Where has the summer gone?

It is hard to believe that it is already the end of August... where the f*ck did my summer go?!  Just yesterday it seems as though I was home for Memorial Day weekend, binge eating hamburgers in the woods around a fire.  It's been a great summer, despite the fact it flew by at lightening speed.  I have made a lot of changes this summer, all for the best.

The foster cats that were formerly the bane of my existence are FINALLY gone... THANK GOD.  They left on August 3rd... and what a glorious day it was.  It is so nice to come home at night and to not have to brace myself as I approach my door in angst, awaiting the foul odors of the litter box that once upon a time, knocked me off my feet.  It's so nice not having to spend $100 a month on cat food and litter.  The nicest thing, is not having to vacuum cat fir off of my furniture every day though.... such a time saver.  I have decided I never want another animal until I have a huge apartment, or a house with a back yard some day.  No more litter boxes... NEVER AGAIN.  I still can't believe I had those cats for EIGHT MONTHS... and they didn't even let me pet them.  So sad. 

I have three job interviews lined up for this next week, which is very exciting...hopefully one of them works out in my favor.  I will try not to get my hopes up, since that is when my hopes get shot down.  I have an interview for a visual merchandiser with Billabong (better bleach my hair and hit up the tanning salon), then I have an interview for a showroom assistant with a european designer, and finally I have an interview for a PAID (yes, you heard me right.... PAID) intern position with a social media/advertising firm that is right next to Highline.  Something has to work out soon right?  I mean I've been here for almost an entire year now and nothing has come along in terms of a better job.  I'm at my fucking wit's end.  I'm still applying like a mad woman on craigslist... it's just so difficult to not be a little bit selective when you've already been through the wringer as I have.  I refuse to work any more service jobs (I'm sorry, I didn't go to school to be someone's cocktail bitch),  I don't really want to work retail anymore, but if there is a chance for promotion or a chance to branch out into a more creative branch within the company, I suppose it is better than nothing (especially if it pays well).  I really just want to do something creative- or at least something that will open up some doors for a paying, creative position.  I'm really hoping that the social media internship works in my favor.  

I'm in a happier place personally than I have been in a while, so now my 'professional' (as professional as it can get anyway ;) ) life needs some tweaking and I will be golden.  I will leave you with some inspirational shit I've come across in the last month.  I have such a love/hate relationship with this city (if you haven't already noticed)... but finding random scrawlings of drunk people or strange stickers is one of the little things I truly love.  I wish so badly I could have gone home this weekend for my friend's birthday, but when I do get a chance to go home... I need to have a major end of summer party to compensate for all of the time I didn't spend home (like I originally intended to do at the beginning of summer). 

"Good dick will imprison you."   Were truer words every spoken? lmao. 

This little gem I spotted while using the facilities at Johnny's Bar (aka 'Bar' Bar) one night after work.  As you know, I went through my first major relationship and subsequent break up and despite the fact the break up was months ago, my ex has been dragging shit out trying to convince me to come back.  There have been a lot of phone arguments, savage words (on my behalf) and some anger and resentment.  However, in my tipsy state, I read this... and it spoke to me.  "I'm ready for a man that's good enough for me or to spend the rest of my life living happily and looking for one."  I don't know what drunk bitch wrote this... but she was spot on.  Cheers to her. 

One of my favorite shops in this city is a home/cookware store called Fish's Eddy, just outside of Union Square.  They always have the coolest stuff... I must own this cheese plate.  How cool would it be to serve cheese to your friends on a ceramic artist's palette?! 

Reality Bites? Only sometimes.

Ohhhhh Myyyyy.  Yes, that is the only way to describe my life as of late.  You know how it goes... it's like an old, rusty set of scales that are never quite in balance.  One area of life goes up and the other goes down.  Well, one area of my life has been rather promising as of late, and then suddenly my hopes and dreams of having secured a new job for August abruptly came crashing down when I was informed the project was pushed back so they were not hiring.  See what I mean?  I was almost 100% sure I would be starting a new job at the end of August and then a quick email severed my precious heartstrings and sent me into a state of emotional distress and mental anguish over my future finances.  Never EVER put too much stock into anything, no matter how assured you are that it will come to fruition... one never knows what tomorrow will bring.  It has been the biggest learning experience of my adult life not getting my hopes and dreams up.  It is very hard for a dreamer like myself who loves to imagine the best scenario in every situation.  Never ever let those fairytales get to your head; whether they are fairytales of romance, fairytales of wealth, or fairytales of a kick-ass career.  At the end of the day, you can only rely on yourself in this world (even though I rely on pretty much everyone at any given time).  It's once again back to the old grind of craigslist job searching for me.  Jesus christ... will I be poor forever?  Not if I can help it...

I was talking with one of my best friends yesterday and we came to the consensus that one of the only expenditures you don't have guilt over when it comes to dropping money (despite the fact that you are broke as a joke) is alcohol and entertainment.  One would think that if you are poor, this is an area of life where you should be spending the least amount of money... WRONG.  When you are living pay check to pay check, you know for a fact that there is no way you can afford a vacation or a large purchase that would make you otherwise happy (like a sick mint-green beach cruiser with a little woven basket in the front, or a new bag, or some new heels... hey, a bitch can dream).  Therefore, despite the fact that your fridge is bare-bones, and you are sad you are a woman because you have added expenditures like boxes of tampons and mascara, you have no problem spending $16 on a bottle of wine or $60 at the bar to forget the fact that you are so poor for a while.  Forgetting you are poor IS the vacation.  Jesus christ that is soooo pathetic.  I can't stop saying "Jesus Christ."  What has my life come to?! OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG (<----- said in manner of blonde valley girl).  sigh.  At least I am young (for the time being).  At least I am smart (in some aspects).  At least I am healthy (aside from my emotional instability... just kidding).  I am thankful for that.

Now for some promising news, my foster cats will be leaving the weekend of August 3rd/4th.  This is a major relief for me since they have been the bane of my existence since they arrived on February 1st.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard right:  I've had these foster cats for approximately EIGHT fucking months now.  I feel bad that I'm so sore over the subject- but the previous fosters I had only stayed with me for one month each.  It has been so taxing taking care of two cats.  Their poo and pizzle is soooo smelly I want to occasionally die when I walk into my apartment if they have relieved them selves while I'm away.  There have actually been a couple of nights when I was so depressed about life that coming home and having to scoop cat shit at 1:30am has been the breaking straw that sent me into uncontrollable sobbing.  Do you know how pathetic it is to come home to an empty apartment and sob uncontrollably as you scoop cat shit at 1:30am?!  It's just wrong on every level.  They only ever let me pet them when it is meal time, and they wake me up in the early hours of the morning knocking shit around and meowing (and possibly having gay, cat sex).  I know it's not their fault that they are the way the are... but for heaven's sake, I can't go on living like this.  I honestly believe they should have been neutered and returned to the streets from whence they came.  I'm sorry, but some cats can't be domesticated, especially after living their entire lives on the streets without human owners.  Agreeing to foster two cats without a set, end-date was possibly one of the most uninformed decisions I have ever made.  I am also OCD about the cleanliness of my apartment and I am CONSTANTLY vacuuming, sweeping up litter, lint-rolling black cat hairs, etc.  I cannot wait until I don't have to do this anymore because it is very time consuming.  I mean, for fuck's sake- I had a two hour break in between shifts at Highline last Sunday, and I spent it running back to Williamsburg to make sure the cats were fed dinner and to scrub my floors.  Furthermore, going home for even a couple of days was a real pain in the ass if my sister was going upstate too,  because then I felt guilty leaving the cats and would always return back to an extra smelly apartment.  NOT COOL.  I hope for their sake they find a good home with a true cat fanatic who doesn't care that her/his apartment smells and gets dirty.  I am not the one.

Last night I went out with another one of my friends and it was so good to have a discussion about life with someone who is in the exact same boat as me (so to speak).  I am happy to know that I am not the only twenty-something who is confused about life, stressed about work/finances, and scared about the future.  It's good to know I'm not the only one who loves going home just for the full fridge of food at my fingertips, or that I'm not the only one who hates having to spend money on necessities like razors, shampoo, dish soap, and paper towels when there are so many better things to spend money on.  If I knew what life in my twenties would have been like 6 years ago, I wonder if I would have prepared differently or made different decisions.  Probably not.   I suppose there is nothing I really could have done differently to prepare myself for the present.  However, It sure as hell would have been nice if the economy/job market hadn't crashed a few years before I graduated.  That really fucked over pretty much everyone in my immediate age group.  Now I'm just getting angry about things I can't control.... changing the subject:

I think I should throw a party and get back to my roots as an entertaining goddess this month.  I need to make the best of my summer while it is still here and I really feel like cooking/baking/decorating (I am such a woman).  Not that I haven't been having a fair amount of fun ;)  I definitely have been having a pretty decent summer in the city.  I recently acquired a small table from a friend that I plan to turn into a sick mini bar.  I am going to paint and lacquer it black (sings: I see a red door and I want it painted black, no colors anymore I want them to turn black... lmao; that's my motto for any piece of furniture I get... everything looks better in either lacquered black or stark white).  But, anyhow, I'm painting it black and then i am going to get a mirrored tray for the top and some sort of little wine rack for the second shelf.  I lovvvvee having physical projects to keep my busy.  It's so therapeutic to keep your hands busy sanding, painting, or sewing... it is like a mental relaxation technique which is great for a person like myself whom never stops thinking.  Goddamn, I love life even if it is a real bitch sometimes.

Laying on the terrace, contemplating the meaning of life one evening.  I'm so fucking deep it kills me... ahahahaha.  JK 

It's a vicious cycle

Now that summer is in full swing, things seem to be looking up.  I'm not planning on getting complacent, because I doubt this high will last (they never do), but I will enjoy every good moment for what it is worth.  I have a job lined up for this fall (99% sure... I'm banking on absolutely nothing 100% until papers are signed), but it definitely gives me something to look forward to and has put part of my mind at ease (the part constantly worrying whether or not I should stay in NYC and renew my lease).  I had a decent week at Highline so I treated myself to some American Apparel trash and new sneakers from Urban.  It's a good thing I purchased them when I did, because I threw out three pairs of shoes in the last week.  My favorite Espadrilles bit the dust one day when the entire sole detached from the wedge.  My suede Vans that were once white, had turned a dingy shade of grey, so they got chucked, and then my pink, cheapo sneakers got the chuck after they tore my feet up for the last time. Just another excuse to go shopping!  Why oh why oh why do I love clothes SO much?   I just wish I could play dress up all day, every day.  This is exactly why a costume shop is where I belong....

I am so excited to go upstate next weekend for my niece's one year birthday party (we're celebrating her birthday in the city this weekend, but next weekend will be family!!!!).  I miss my sweet Bijou and Ceely so much, and am dying for some peach sangria with my friends.  Hopefully I won't regress back into another upstate binge since I just ended a six-week binge and am finally back on track to recovering my body after drowning my sorrows in alcohol and San Loco at 4am.

Finally starting to see my man-V again.  It was missing for a while there.  And no, I don't work out.  I just stopped eating after 8pm, because late night dining was bringing me down. 

I was playing in my closet when I decided that next year for Halloween, I'm going to be a Spanish Seductress.  I bought this from Victoria's Secret two years ago and have yet to wear it.  

I'm surprised that Victoria's secret didn't have to pull this costume because it's offensive to Spaniards... they had to pull the Japanese inspired one from the site last year after too many Asians complained.  

Despite the fact that I've been wearing less clothes than ever now that the weather is warm and treating myself to the highest of heels, I have been on a real feminist kick lately.  I don't know what spurred it; probably the fact that every Saturday night I get hit on by douche bag jersey-shore trash while I do door hostessing at Highline.  It's so sad the way that some dudes think that because they're mildly attractive and compliment you that they think that they'll be able to take you home if they invite you out for drinks.  The new video for that song "Blurred Lines" really pissed me off too, not to mention the song's lyrics.  I know a true feminist strives for equality, but sometimes a violent, suppressed part of me really wants to retaliate by making a music video where I talk about degrading a dude during sex (that he may or may not want in the first place) and making him parade around naked while I sit there taking in the beauty of his naked body while I remain fully-clothed.  It's just that I feel like there is this continual perpetuation of rape culture in today's world, and it is reaffirmed over and over again by simple things like song lyrics or common jokes or things we see on the internet.  Yes the song is catchy, and yes, everyone is welcome to freedom of speech, but as a woman who has been put in situations I did not necessarily condone in the past,  I hate the idea of a guy saying he knows that 'someone wants it.'  

As a woman, I have been in situations time and time again where I was just being myself and someone made assumptions that were incredibly inaccurate.  Just because I am making out with you, doesn't mean I 'want it.'  Just because I invite you in so you can take a piss, doesn't mean 'I asked for it."  I think maybe I just need a chill pill.  Society just infuriates me so much sometimes.  I also hate how it has become normal for guys to refer to girls as bitches amongst the members of my generation.  To me, the term 'bitch,' is like the N-word is for black people.  Like, if a friend calls me a bitch in a joking manner (ex. "where my bitches attttttt"), then it is acceptable.  Or, if I was truly acting like a nasty person and someone was like, "why are you acting like such a bitch?" it'd be one thing; but for guys to openly refer to women as 'bitches'... it's just not ok.  Oh well.  I guess the fact that there are musical artists out there like Lil' Kim and Khia talking about dudes as purely sexual objects, compensates somewhat for all of the songs by male artists where women are made out to be purely sex objects.  

I started getting very nostalgic a few days ago when I was on facebook and looking at photos from Cliff Street.  I miss having my girl friends in the same town so we can hang out nightly.  I also miss throwing outrageous parties.  Being an adult is not all I thought it was going to be when I was young.  I just wish I could go back to acting like a wild child for a few weeks and get it out of my system.  Seeing my former self dancing on a stripper pole in my living room, throwing a white trash themed party, and generally being out of of control makes me think that it is time for me to get a little bit out of control.  It's just so hard to get out of control when you aren't living with your best friends whom will keep you in check if you take it too far.  I'm tempted to post pictures... but there is a reason those tagged photos are private on FB.  Pretty sure my friends would not want there faces splashed about my blog either since they all have fairly respectable jobs. ahahahaha.  Ugh.  Maybe at the end of summer, I will throw a blow out party at home.  There will be tubs of home made sangria, jungle juice, far too much vodka, colored lights, a huge fire, and the resurrection of Jasper (he currently resides in a plastic tub underneath my bed upstate, along with the vintage David Bowie photograph, a few very special wine bottles, and other cliff street mementos).  That is something to look forward to.... :D    I know I should be proud of myself for having not thrown up or cried after drinking in a long time... but part of me misses the time in my life where that was a normal occurrence.  Watch out world... I'm feeling wild.

In a perfect world (for me, anyhow, not for others)

I grew discouraged while searching for jobs and started dreaming about my ideal life.  I don't even know if my ideal life would involve a career anymore... sadly, the reality of my situation means that no job is not an option at this point.  But It didn't stop me from imagining a world of six inch stilettos, a plethora of Motel bodysuits, a hubby who supports my creative endeavors, and weekends entertaining friends at my seaside mansion.

I daydream far more than any person should; I think I do it to give myself hope and something to look forward to that is built into an attainable fantasy of my anticipated future when I have nothing else in my immediate future to look forward to.  I see no harm in it- after all, if I am not hoping for something, I have no hope, and what is a life lived with no hope?  Life is full of surprises- it's hard to plan anything down the road when you don't even know if you will be working tomorrow.  It's hard to know if anyone will get back to you from all of those jobs you applied to.  It is hard to know if you will wake up with a clear face, or three new zits.  I'm not sure where all of this is going; I'm just saying that in moments of life when everything around me seems to be crumbling down, relationships, my bank account, my ego, (yes, I am dramatic like that), I like to look forward to what I anticipate my future will be if I work hard enough.  The following paragraphs will document what I would find to be a perfect future.

I would have a beautiful house in the Hamptons on the water.  It would have a huge backyard and a sun room that had perfect views of the beach.  I'd have a huge kitchen where I would cook awesome meals and bake awesome desserts, and that kitchen would have windows overlooking the water.  I would have lilac trees, and hydrangea bushes, and maybe even rose bushes in the front and back yard.  I would have a pool, and a mint-green vespa to get around town on, with a basket in the front to put my fresh produce when I visited the local farmer's market.  I would also be the proud owner of a vintage jaguar and some other luxury car, like that sick Mercedes SUV that looks like a Range Rover (I'm not a dude, so I don't really pay attention to the specific names of cars... I just know that I want it).

I would have a husband.  He would be a hard worker, but he would know how to have fun- he would be down to earth and far from stuffy or pretentious.  We might do recreational drugs on the weekend... nothing crazy though.  He wouldn't be an addict.  He would have a full head of beautiful hair, a big, warm smile, and beautiful eyes.... oh, and beautiful hands (hands are one of the most important features on a man for me).  He would be sweet and thoughtful and charming.  I could hold an intellectual conversation with him, or just be my crazy-ass self and he would love every minute of it.  He wouldn't be a lumberjack or have huge muscles, but he would know how to fix the faucet or change a tire and build me a fire.  He would enjoy grilling and manly things like fine whisky and soccer matches. But he would also like to go to concerts and be spontaneous (like drinking germ-x or smashing wine bottles on trees... jk... the past is the past).

I would pursue writing and costuming, and hopefully provide some portion of the income doing so.  But I would have a schedule that allowed me to be home for dinner; and I would make awesome meals to relax at the end of the day, while I had a large glass of Rose.  I would also throw many parties in my huge house.  I would string fairy lights in the back yard and have a copper, screened-in fire pit for summer get-togethers.  I would be like Ina Garten and make picnic baskets full of yummy pasta salads and baked goods and bottles of wine for get-togethers with friends on the beach or a romantic date with my husband.  If my creative endeavors did not provide me with much money, my husband would be happy to provide for me.  And I would be happy to be dressed in some sexy little number with dinner ready whenever he got home (yes, I know this goes against what I should stand for as a feminist, but I fucking love heels and tight dresses and lingerie and cooking for others).

I would have enough time and money to travel the world- we would take an annual vacation to some far off location.  But I would also take weekend trips around the East Coast and stay in ideal locations on lakes or the water.  My husband and I would go on weekend get-aways to vineyards or maybe even hiking.  We would go to art galleries and museums and concerts all over and discover new restaurants, stores, and bars along the way.  We would own a sail boat and spend a good portion of the summer on it.  If we were wealthy enough, we would have a yacht.  A girl can dream, right?

How I would spend my days:

Taking "artistic" photos.  I am really good a photographing human subjects, because I know my angles (I spent 12 years of my life taking dance and growing up in front of a mirror, I know what makes a bitch look good).  This is an old photo of my brother... I'm so talented. jk. ahahahahaha

Making my shitty, emo paintings would be another past-time in my fantasy future.  Maybe I would even sell them in local galleries (I doubt anyone would ever want to buy this shit though) haha.  If my future husband was supporting me, I would certainly have more time to paint. 

Refurbishing vintage pieces of furniture and decorating my mansion.  I laquered this little gem.  I'd have the sickest house ever with my great decorating sense. 

Sewing Costumes!  I sewed all of the costumes in this pic.. and they weren't even completely finished here.  Please ignore the blurred out faces- I didn't want to post pics of people without their permission :)  I would sew custom costumes from home.  I'd have an entire room for sewing and painting in my imaginary mansion. 

thoughts

1.  dont drink at work....youll get drunk

2.  dont ever give anyone your number...theyre all douche bags.

3.  stay away from french dudes, theyll scar you so bad you wont even be able to listen to daft punk.

4.  do treat yourself to some jeffrey campbell booties...theyre the comfiest 6 inch heels known to man.

5.  dont eat san loco...your stomach will hate you and youll wake up fat.

6.  do enjoy the smell of the spunk trees in june...they lose their spunk scent and start to smell like lilacs.

7.  do visit your ex boyfriend in the hamptons because life is 1000000x better when youre near the beach.

8.  dont self tan.

9.  embrace your white skin.

10.  never ever ever get your hopes up.  they will always be shot down.  its only when youre least expecting things to go well that they actually dom

11.  dont ever take your health for granted.

One Year, Two Years, Three Years ago

TODAY

Today I am sitting here with a part-time job that doesn't even make ends meet.  I haven't bought myself something nice in a long time because it's all I can do to pay my bills and afford essentials like toilet paper and coffee.  My New York State taxes were filed incorrectly so instead of getting back $400, I now owe $233 (after a three month pending period following my accountant resubmitting forms and New York State dicking around deciding if anything would change).  I hate my job.  It would be one thing if I were making a decent salary and was able to afford some fun in my life, but I bust my ass waiting on assholes who may or may not tip properly, and feel degraded as fuck.  I have a college degree (two degrees, actually), retail management experience, costuming experience, writing experience, and yet night after night, I wait on demanding customers and carry heavy trays of alcoholic beverages through packed audiences who don't have enough empathy to move out of my way.

I live alone.  I come home to an empty apartment and two, smelly-ass foster cats whose poop I'm constantly scooping.  I wake up alone.  I can take time off from my job whenever I would like which is great, except I need money so I can't really take time off without guilt or worrying how I will pay my rent the next month.  My hourly pay is $5 an hour, and thanks to New York City taxes, about 1/3 of my paycheck is taken out, so even when I make awesome credit tips... it doesn't matter.

I spend my days off scrubbing my apartment, which gets surprisingly filthy due to two cats with shedding black hair.  I also scour craigslist.org for better jobs, either in or out of NYC, since I'm not so sure that I even want to live here anymore.  I have really been considering going to Grad school, but I'm not sure where or for what.  Life is more confusing than ever before, and it seems that due to rent, my lease, and bills, my options are pretty limited at the moment.

I am still broken up with my ex-boyfriend, though we now talk on a daily basis (this was after I said we couldn't communicate at all and I slowly realized you can't just cut one of your best friends entirely out of your life without serious consequences).  I have been out with a handful of dudes since breaking up with him about 4 months ago (after we went on numerous breaks and got into numerous fights over the last year of our relationship), and every guy I went out with just didn't do it for me.  I've been out with assholes who only wanted no-strings attached sex, guys who admitted to throwing cats against a wall and might be deported due to DUIs, dudes I met while they were rolling on molly, and I am now throwing in the towel.  If I have to be alone for the rest of my life, it will be better than dating a dick bag.  I have only just recently given up on dating and seeing other guys; I think I was just using it as a distraction from my otherwise stressful and and mundane existence, so now I am back to focusing on just me.  I don't need any distractions- they aren't worth my time, energy, or emotions.


ONE YEAR AGO

One year ago, I was a visual assistant manager at Hollister Co.  I was living at home and driving about 30 minutes to and from work in Binghamton each day.  I hated my job because of the politics of the company and the emphasis on physical appearance, but in retrospect, at least I had a steady pay check every two weeks and worked with a great team of people (not that I don't now- the people I currently work with are also great).  I sometimes had to be into work at 6am, but in retrospect, it's a lot better than my current job of going into work at 10pm and not getting out until 4am.

Living at home didn't always seem like the greatest thing, but now that I live alone, it was awesome to have had someone considerate enough to put a plate of food in the fridge for me when they new I wasn't going to be back from work until midnight.  It was nice to have a built-in friend with my brother also living at home, so I had someone to talk to and watch a movie with at 10pm.  It was really nice to have a car, and not have to rely on someone else's time schedule for transportation as I do these days (the L train is NEVER running the way it should be, and I have spent so much money on cabs as a result that it makes me feel sick thinking of the money I have wasted in the last few months).  I didn't have to pay rent, which saved me a shit ton of money, and I also didn't have to spend money on food... or toilet paper... or coffee.. or fucking foster cats who will shit their brains out if I don't buy top-of-the-line, $40 bags of hard food. Life was pretty fucking good looking back....

I had $10,000 in my bank account.  I was planning on quitting my job with Hollister to move to NYC in the fall, and I was hopeful that finding work in the city would be relatively easy.  I was so full of hope.  I also had grandiose plans to spend a portion of my money on a trip to Barcelona.  I was on a break with my then boyfriend, and had so much time to just focus on me and MY future.  I spent days off making elaborate meals for my family (it was nice to have people to cook for), walking my dogs, taking a raft out in Guilford lake by myself, or just planning my future and applying to jobs in the city.


Two Years Ago

At this time two years ago, I was madly in love with my boyfriend.  We were still doing long-distance after a year and a half of being together, but each time we saw each other, it was like three days in heaven.  I would look forward to visiting him in the Hamptons (where his family lived) and going to the beach and for long bike rides by the bay and out to eat.  I looked forward to nights of star-gazing in his hammock, and cooking awesome meals with him.  He would come visit me upstate, and I would show him around my innocent, sleepy little town.  We would have a fire in the woods, or go for walks, and I would bring him to all the coolest restaurants Binghamton had to offer.  We would hang out with my cousin and brother and cook meals for my family.  We were so happy and in love back then.... it almost makes me sad to think back on these days.

I worked part time at Macy's in the cosmetics department.  I worked with some truly awesome women, and I had so much free time on my hands since I worked about four days a week and the hours were pretty decent (no late-late nights like I am doing now, or super early mornings like I had to do for Hollister).  I was still living at home back then and commuting via car to Binghamton.  My paychecks weren't that big, so it sucked that a large portion had to go towards gas, but it was still better than taking the subway or paying for a cab.

I spent my free time cooking for my family, or catering to the feral cats in my backyard (this was the summer that Bijou and Pot Pie showed up as kittens).  I built tent city for them and would spend hours outside playing with them.  I hung out with my friends for drinks at Jerry's or the occasional bonfire party.  I had just graduated from Oneonta so I was not in any major rush to find an adult job with benefits etc.  Time was on my side back then and I was not stressed about much.  I think the biggest stress in my life was making time to see my boyfriend.



Three Years Ago

Three years ago, I had just had the most tumultuous and amazing year of my young, adult life.  The summer after the year of Cliff Street was an interesting time.  I had a new boyfriend (we had been together for about six months back then), and that summer was the beginning of what would turn into a 3 year long distance relationship.  It was a hard transition since we had seen each other daily while college was in session.  I was so in love back then.  I would bake him cookies and mail them to him, and I looked forward to visiting him in the Hamptons or him visiting me upstate.

I was so sweet, and young, and innocent and hopeful it almost pains me to look back on that time in my life.  I would cry because I missed my boyfriend, but other than that nothing really stressed or upset me.  I was working part-time at Claire's, which was a pretty sweet and innocent job in itself.... selling tiaras and tutus to little girls or piercing an 8 year old's ears.

The highlight of my summer back then was having my Albany friends drive to Oneonta for a night out with the girls, or taking a trip to Albany to visit them and go to my friend's family's restaurant and Crossgates mall.  I went on shopping trips with my mom and grandma that summer- I bought my first $90 bottle of Jean Paul Gaultier perfum, and SO MUCH lingerie... I must have spent about $2,000 on lingerie over the three years I was with my boyfriend.  I fucking miss the excitement of it all.  Now I wonder if I will ever feel those butterflies and that newness ever again.  


Four Years Ago

Four years ago, I was a virgin, I was single, I was having so much fun and acting out doing all sorts of crazy shit.  It was the summer of rage week, and my best friend and I were inseparable.  I'm convinced we hung out pretty much every day, whether it was deciding to drive to binghamton to do drugs and see a movie, or sitting on her mom's deck with the caged in fire lit drinking wine under the stars.  We listened to a lot of Jeff Buckley that summer, and usually ended up quoting his lyrics when we were wasted or emo.  We listened to a lot of shitty and awesome music like Def Leopard and Metallica and other assorted crap we thought was amazing because it fit the mood.  We spray painted the pavilion in a park and had to jump over a bank in the pouring rain to hide from the cops, we got wasted on the football field at night with our group of guy friends and had to run from the cops when they showed up... we did a lot of running from the cops that summer.  We went out in Oneonta a lot- our favorite bars that summer were the Black Oak Tavern (I loved skeevy, hipster types) and the Fox (my friend loved karaoke), and drank a lot of cocktails.  I made out with a lot of boys that summer... it was a fun summer.  I don't even think I had a job that summer... which is probably why it was so awesome.  Oh wait, that's right- I cleaned houses for old ladies. ahahahahaha.  What a great job.  It was only like $120 a week for about 6 hours total work, but it was enough to buy drinks at the bar, since I really had no other expenditures.  I still had my shitty Nissan Altima that summer; that was the summer I drove it into a 4 ft. ditch completely sober.  It was still fine after that.... it was a good car.  The summer of 2009 led into the greatest year of my life, the fall of 2009 and the year I spent at Clif Street.

This was the year that would change me forever.  I met some of my closest friends that fall, drank far more than I should have, did some crazy and stupid shit, which NO, I don't regret at all, and met my boyfriend.  Summer of 2009 was amazing, even though I was in emotional turmoil.  Life was promising and the future was wide open (to quote Tom Petty).

Post from a Bus

I am currently sitting on a greyhound bus back to my shitty, New York existence.  My ipod is dead as disco, I am about 15 lbs heavier than I was just a month ago, I'm having severe anxiety over my future, and I am 100% positive that my apartment will smell heavily of cat shit and piss upon my return.  Furthermore I can't even use proper punctuation without a great degree of difficulty on my outdated Android.  But hey life could be much, much worse.

Despite the fact that I spent the majority of my time home eating and am now 15 lbs fatter, home was most enjoyable...even if it rained 2 out of the 3 days that I was home.  Anyone reading this whom actually knows me will probably think I am insane for thinking that I gained 15 lbs, but the scale at the doctor's office doesn't lie.  Neither does the fact that my belt doesn't fit without having to suck in, or the fact that I have chafed the hell out of my inner thighs and love handles when I wear my black work pants.  I have to take immediate action before this gets out of control.  It reminds me of my freshman year at FIT.  I lost a ton of weight that Fall and then when I went home for Christmas break, I gained all of it back and then some over the course of the six weeks we had for break.  Upon returning to the city that January, my sister took me on a death march across the city to go to the Apple store and my too-tight jeans chafed my love handles and inner thighs so severely, that I had rug-burn like abrasions that lasted for a week.  I can never let that happen again, because then it spurs this vicious cycle where I throw in the towel and start eating cookies out of sadness and failure and make the situation even more devastating and hard to bounce back from.  When I am back in the city I will also have to post a proper blog with photos, since my phone also won't let me post pics.

I have been thinking a lot about grad school these past couple of weeks.  I cannot believe that I have been in NYC for 9 months now and still only have part-time work at Highline.  I will be off my parent's insurance next year, which has really made me start to freak out about the thought of a life without insured doctor/dental/and optometry visits (I refuse to ever live a life without insurance and become one of those people whom have to pay $300 out of pocket for a basic doctor's visit or one of those people who just stop going to the dentist because they have no insurance).   So now, I am REALLY freaking out about an adult job that comes with proper benefits and a 401K.  My health is super important to me since I freak out over little things and visit webmd.com more than any person should.  If I can't find a "proper" job, perhaps my best option at this point would be to immerse myself back into academia.  I do love writing papers and attending classes.... It is definitely something I intend to look into this week on my days off.

Speaking of health, i had my annual lady appointment (the primary reason i went home) and every time I leave that office, I cannot help but think  to myself how lucky my 72 year old OBGYN is.  I mean, the dude is 72 years old and gets to feel up 25 year old breasts all day.  I bet his geriatric friends are all jealous... hahahahhaa.  Ew.

View from the dock at CowFish in Hampton Bays... I think I could have a cocktail sitting on this wrap-around deck every day and life would be good. 

Beach on Dune Road.  

Bouquet of wild flowers I picked while at home... I'm so fucking fancy... NOT. 

The highlight of my trip home.. Bijou, my pride and joy.  He is the best cat in the world.  And the cutest.