It's been awhile since I posted, because I've been kind of numb since my vacation. It wasn't really what I was expecting, and then again, it was exactly how I knew it really would be. Staying in New York was a disappointing and lonely as it was last year, only this time it was warm and humid, which was kind of a pain since I brought a winter coat with me and a bunch of sweaters. My hotel was very cute, which was a win. The first night I got in, I showered, which was a huge relief after the plane ride, then went to McDonald's, got dinner, and watched TV. I felt the East Coast vibe very strong, the autumn, leaves, scents in the air, etc.

I bought my aunt a gift at Bliss Spa for her birthday, and spent most of the next day just doing nothing. Eventually, finally, I took the subway to the West Village, where I met the guy named Steve five years ago. Going back to that locale was very strange. Also, it was hot out and my careful makeup, hair, etc, went to complete hell and I looked bad.

If you're by yourself, New York can be absolute hell in it's lonliness. You feel like the city is a living organism that will swallow you whole if you're not careful. That's how I was feeling, but I made it back to the West Village where I met this man whose name was Steve, 5 years ago. Walking around the neighborhood felt very familiar, and very horrible, too. I felt horrible feelings and the horror of that time: being broke, essentially homeless, sick with decay. I think when I met him I had been wearing the same outfit for 3 days because I had little to no clothes to wear. My hair was growing out from bad homemade cuts and dye jobs, and I remember that I had bobby pinned the sides of it up so it would look longer in the back. I had one green flip flops I bought at a J Crew around the corner from my sister's luxe high right apartment, the one that her and her jerk off husband couldn't really afford. Grifters r' us they were.

I have no sense of direction. It takes a long time for me to learn new places and neighborhoods, so I got somewhat lost, then all of a sudden, ended up on Greenwich Street. I walked down and found Johnny's Bar. It was the strangest moment. Not even surreal, just very, very odd. I felt nervous and hot, so I went to Starbucks, hoping I could find a table, sit, and think. Of course it was packed. I had the old horrible feelings of walking around Manhattan, observing all of the well-dressed people with good jobs, homes, friends, lives. It made me feel like dying. I guess I have come somewhat further than I was at that time.

Eventually, I did go inside, and the place seemed much smaller than I remembered. There was a group of college age people sitting at the end of the table, and a few lonely alcoholics. The place just seemed grungy and sad. I don't drink alcohol anymore, and haven't had any in almost five years. After taking a sip or two of a gin and tonic, I felt the alcohol take small effect, a slight blurring of my vision and a little bit of vertigo. I just ran out of that place and took the subway back to my hotel. New York is a horrible place to me, I'll never go back there. I hope to never go back again. At least I can move on now without the idea of a possibility that is so ridiclous in reality holding me back.

I've still had thoughts of this guy, though. Will they ever go away? Why is it I am still, sometimes, so enamored with a memory of someone I don't know? That sounds horrible because it kind of is. He's a real guy, off someplace, probably in New York, maybe with a family, or kids and an ex-wife, or a girlfriend and no kids, or who knows? I guess you can really fall dangerously in love with strangers. That love at first sight thing is really possible.

Today is just another day, however. A work day, the worst day. Tuesdays are awful. I am coming off of a short weekend, a nice night's sleep, and then I have to languish the day away and rest enough to be sharp for work at 11pm. I get paid Friday though, which is great, and I'm going to get my hair done, maybe get some new glasses or something.

I saw a movie about sex addiction and generally some very fucked up siblings yesterday. It was hard to watch but a good movie. Very kind of like this clinical documentary kind of experience, but when the main character actually felt powerful emotions, you kind of felt them with him or something. I might go see it again.

I've been taking a lot of self-portraits just to be aware of how fully ugly I am. I have some good angles, but mostly am not that attractive. I have messed up teeth. And they're just very prominent, big teeth, too. Crooked and just fucked up. Bad genes from my father's side of the family. My mother had almost perfect teeth, and a perfect face. It's hard as a girl not to feel pretty, or to feel like there's something about me that ruins my looks and should have been fixed but wasn't. Thanks to the asshole bastard orthodintist who put 2 rounds of braces on me and they didn't make a fucking dent. I think when I walked out of his office the last time, they were still fucked up and my overbite hadn't gone anywhere, and the asshole was like, all right, perfect! I looked him up on his website and now he and his son practice together. How cute, right? That man was a mean asshole and my mother took me to him TWICE. THe first time should have been evidence that he wasn't efficient. WHy did she take me to the same guy a second time? I don't think she cared enough. I think she thought, so what. I've raised two kids already. Maybe this kid can stay home with me forever and I won't be alone. Let's leave her ugly so no guy will want to marry her. Or just laziness. Sometimes I think my parents were very irresponsible to have a third child when they knew my father had health problems, and my mother was 40years old. My childhood was not normal and it ruined my chance at a normal adult life. Sometimes I don't understand how I'm even still alive.