Forecast is Foggy

I haven't been into the city around sunset in awhile, as in, deep down into the city around Union Square, etc etc. It's strange to me that I've lived here for five and half years now. California is really my home, but I'm still getting used to it. It always just feels like a place I am crashing at, but am not really meant to be at. I guess that is a sign that I should move elsewhere. If after five years you don't feel comfortable someplace, it's probably time to move on. I'm going to a music festival tomorrow. It's not something I have done in years, maybe even about a decade. So I went out and spent some money on items for a good outfit to wear. I should be saving it for my supposed big move next summer, but June 2013 is still far enough away where I can put enough away from now to then. I sold part of my soul to the yuppie devil and went to Lululemon for yoga pants. I think I will never go there again. That is not by any means, in any terms, a very Kate kind of place. The girl behind the counter suspiciously eyed my tattoo on my hand and then probably remembered she had to act nice and friendly, and began asking me all about my day, blah blah blah. I just wanted to run out of there and not even buy anything, but it was too late. Lululemon is not a very tattoo-friendly place. I should have stopped at one or two big ones, but I just kept on going, like an asshole. I hate them now, I wish I could just scrub them right off forever. Word to the wise: don't get heavily tattooed. So I guess I'm too alternative to shop at chi chi yoga stores, I should probably just order online from now on and save myself the anxiety. Much easier to deal with the UPS guy on your doorstep, anyway. My friend from NJ, old high school friend, has moved to Washington State, Seattle to be exact. We had been talking on and off, and I saw her when I went back to NJ a few weeks ago. It was fun and we had a good time, had some drinks and reminisced. Anyway, now she is in Seattle, and called me last week, then said she'd have to call back. So I texted her but had no response. And then I called her tonight but there was no answer or return call. It's probably not a bad thing, I kind of was getting tired of reconnecting. I dropped out of college partly because of problems related to this person and people I had become friends with through her, and she caused me a lot of drama over the years. So maybe a kind of fading into the sunset isn't so bad. You know what is bad? Crowded coffee houses. It's nice to have space, be on your computer, drink your drink, and do your thing, but not when all of these strangers are all up in your grill and whatnot. I swear, my social anxiety has gotten so bad that I hardly go out anymore. Another five years will go by and I'll be 35 (NOOO!!!) and completely shut in to my apartment. Although, I hope that when I'm 35, I'll be living in a nicer apartment or even a house, having a better job, and that this goddamn laser tattoo removal will have worked. It's not working that well, by the way. The guy who does it has zero personality and hardly says a word, he just looks at me with a blank stare and asks a few questions. A couple times he made comments like, 'it's really working' 'i can see a difference already' and I know he is bullshitting me, and doing it badly. I'll give it another couple of tries, but if this isn't doing anything major by about November, I'm going to stop going to this place. I'm in hell. Yes, I feel like I have died and gone to hell, and am damned forever by a few bad choices I made when I was 22 years old. By a couple asshole people I thought were good friends, and some uncaring relatives. Boo-hoo, right? Well, when it ruins your fucking life you pretty much feel like bawling your eyes out every night before your crawl into your bed/cough in your closet-sized studio apartment. Or every morning since I work nights.

Limbo Land

The past 2 weeks have been somewhat transitory for me, and I've been taking it out on my hair. Petty and unimportant information, yes, but I have nothing else major happening in my life right now. I originally tried to do this ombre thing that didn't happen. It came out orange-ish and one side was higher than the other. I wanted to love this salon I had been going to in the Mission, Pretty Pretty Collective, but the past 2 times were so lackluster and the results were not at all close to what I wanted, so that place is done for me. I think it's hipster element is overshadowing the fact that there are a lot of under-talented people working there or something. I went to another salon and they gave me much better highlights that was much closer to what I had been going for. But the bleach killed part of my hair, and after trying to adopt new ways of styling my hair for about a week, I realized it was better to just cut if off. I'm a little hair-shocked right now, but another 6 months and it will be back to the length I want it at. I'm going to go blonder too, in the next few months. And I found someone cool to do my hair, finally. It's hard to find someone in San Francisco who is non-pretentious and such. In my opinion. I spoke to my sister today, but she sounded so irritated it kind of hurt my feelings. I'm too sensitive sometimes, and I don't think it was me, more likely her job stressing her out. I feel like sometimes she's hoping I move away from California. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. But I can't say I would blame her. She helped me get on my feet out here and has always been there for me if I am in a pickle or need help with some extra money. And she's been very generous with my past few Christmases and birthdays, too. Maybe it would be better to leave and make a clean break. I'm not in love with California, I never have been, really. I find it to be an almost cruel, somewhat vicious place full of a lot of violence and twisted types of people. Let me touch on another topic here. I'm not the prettiest person in the world. Not even close. In fact, if I don't wear makeup and have my hair done, I look pretty fucking ugly. And I have a kind of unique look, maybe. Not like every other girl. That still doesn't make it any easier when I look up and see someone rudely staring at me with this look of question on their face, as if they are witnessing something so ugly they can't believe it, or whatever. I'm not that pretty, but still, don't be a fucking rude asshole, or rude assholes. It happens too much sometimes. I should go back to my anorexic days, at least being too thin detracts from a less than precisely symmetrical beauty. Work is sucking so bad. Sucking the life from my bones!!! I'm starting to hate it. I really hate some of the people I have to talk to, the rude douches, and the awful graveyard shift schedule. That's it for now, I want to go home and rest.

Went to the bank today. Some girl who looked like she is not yet 21 waited on me. So after I leave, I notice on the receipt that part of my deposit was entered massively wrong. I go back in and am given a round of 'we're so sorrys' and 'please wait for a few minutes of the counter' and 'well, we have to recount the cash because we secretly think maybe you're lying'...yada yada yada. This isn't the first time I've had problems with this branch of the Fargo. They fixed that shit up, and rightly so, and I was on my way. But still, how annoying, right? I know you have to account for human error at times, and I've experienced my share of disgruntled and unhappy customers in the land of customer service, so I was nice. I know how it is to be on the other end. But please don't fuck it up next time, Fargo. As of late, I've been trying to save my money in the old savings account that has been collecting dust. It's been working out, so I'm hoping by this time next year I'll have a nice little cushion so that I can move away from the Bay Area. By Summer 2013, I will have been living here for 6 long, sometimes sad, sometimes boring, sometimes peaceful years. Maybe at that point, I will just want to stay and keep doing what I'm doing, but I really miss parts of the East. I think Philadelphia might be a good place to end up. I can take the train up to NYC anytime, maybe on a day off, or for a weekend, instead of a 5 hour plane ride. I could go visit my aunt for the holidays or for a day or two. I could see my other niece occasionally. We'll see. But I'm hoping that I can save at least 7-8 grand by July 2013. To some, that is pathetic and sad. To others, it is their reality. Is my reality. I posted this lovely photo op of a classic hoopty because I'm going to be needing to purchase one soon. Maybe not with the huge rims attached, but I'll need some kind of old car to drive to and from work in. My office is moving out of the city, and most people are kind of annoyed and inconvenienced. I still have yet to take a dress-rehearsal commute over to the new location. I'm hoping I can at least get there via the subway. Working these inhuman hours is a pain in the ass already, without the added grievance of uncertain public transit times. But of course, your employers never really care about any of that. So if I'm really productive I will haul the laundry hamper containing about 50 lbs of laundry down three flights of stairs to the laundromat across the street, then might be bothered by some scary looking dude or dudes, then back home. I'll just save it for tomorrow morning. Today is about relaxation. I did my food shopping and some cleaning yesterday. I'm just going to go home soon, eat lunch, and relax and don't it.

Sunshine Days

I woke up this morning with such purpose...to go shopping and spend more money that I should be saving now that I am 30 years old and officially aging closer to 40. I guess I should just enjoy this year, though, enjoy being simply 30. Not 24, not 36, just 30. 31 might be more of a slap to the face, more of a wake up call, kind of like a huge foghorn in my ear telling me to stop acting like I'm still a teenager and get my shit together! I mean, I have a job. I rent my own (very small) spartment. I pay bills on time, but my credit store is still horrible. Let me say, if anyone thinks that one or two forgotten student loans and a few random unpaid bills forgotten from long ago cannot destroy your credit score almost permanently, then you need to get the memo. It will kill your credit score, and when you're 35 years old and you want to lease a new SUV to fit your expanding family or whatever, and the car dealer says no bueno, then you will figure it out. But I'm single and have no children, no car, not even a bike. They scare me. My life might be a bit easier if I had one, but they're expensive as hell. Like 800 dollars for a brand new, and I don't feel like buying a used bike is smart, either. I don't need a wheel popping off as I'm riding down a busy street. So, purchases. I bought some makeup I don't really need, and some colored pants. I wasn't sure about them at first, but I've come to love brightly colored jeans. And I keep seeing Jessica Alba wearing every color of the rainbow in US Magazine pictures and whatnot, and she's 31, so I guess I'm not looking like a fool. It would help my situation if I was as gorgeous as she is, though, but that will never happen. I've come to peace with being average. Now I'm having very late morning iced coffee at a dingy hipster hangout in the Mission. I'm going to a shoe store to hopefully buy 2 more pairs of moccasins. I have a newfound love for these kind of random shoes. They're not sneakers and therefore a bit more acceptable if you have to go someplace nice. I can't wear dress shoes. Boots and I don't mix. I feel that they're cumbersome and usually add 2 inches which I hate. Dressy flats cut your feet bloody raw, and there's sadly not much need for flip flops or nicer sandals in the Bay Area except for a few days/weeks a year. The weather and sandals don't really mix out here. I'm going to go back home soon and try to do laundry, and clean the bathroom a bit. And then rent a movie or something. That's about all. It's hot out. Warmish. I still don't trust the weather so I wear hoodies constantly.

Sunday Girl

Yeeeeeuhhhh, it's Sunday. Finally. A long week of work is over. My week wasn't that bad, either, just drawn out and kind of stagnant. Last night was pretty much like every other Saturday night/Sunday morning. I always feel so frazzled when I leave work anyway that I have to go home and take a shower, lay down, and recover. I've lost interest in blogging, mainly because I'm sure I'm the only one who reads this, and if by chance someone out there is reading this bunch of blah right now, I'm sorry for this erratic mess you have just read. Today is a day to do things. The weather is warm and the air smells nice. I'm going to try to go home and then come back out to return something at a clothing store and maybe get some sandals. And some fun workout wear for my slow walks around the jogging path close to my home. I like to pretend I'm fitness conscious, but in reality, I still have the same affinity for neon tinged black spandex that I had when I was a chubby 10 year old kid back in the early 90's. All I need is a pair of white leather keds and a really bad oversized t-shirt tied into a knot on the side and I can party like it's 1992 all over again. *shudders* I really don't feel like going back to this yuppie store I went to to buy a coat, but I have to. I'm not going to keep a coat that doesn't fit. Please God send me into the arms of a nice older guy who just wants to hang around and watch good old movies at night. Someone laid back and kind of scary looking, but with a golden heart. Thank you.

Day Off

So today I'm having another round of laser removal done. It's not fun, but whatever. It's not the most horrible thing in the world, either. I bought a new pair of sneakers and am going to do this appointment, then go back home to Oakland and watch TV, and do laundry if I have the energy. It's nice not living in this city anymore.
Work wasn't too bad after the horror of last Tues night/Wed morning. I'm going to try and take a day off in the coming months for a nice little 3 day weekend.

I moved upstairs to #6 and so far, so good. No roaches. However, this morning, I found a very small spider barely able to be seen by the naked eye, as well as some kind of black beetle crawling on the kitchen curtain. NOT FUCKING COOL. Is this building infested? What the fuck? This better not even be a motherfucking bi-weekly occurence, because I will pack up my stuff and move elsewhere. These people need to get it together. Fumigate or exterminate or whatever. I understand that in apartment buildings, especially old ones, there are small bugs that you can't avoid, but come on. I just moved all my things to a new apartment to get away from the cigarette smoke, the noise, and the bugs, and I am still: smelling cigarettes, hearing noise from downstairs, and now have seen more fucking bugs. I think I should start looking for a new place. I don't need this aggravation. It's bogus and the owners of the building need to keep it clean. There's crap all over the back stairs, due to the numerous pigeons outside that I am now hearing all the time, and the building smells musty when you walk in. I guess as long as I don't see anymore bugs, at least for a few months, I'll be ok.

I hope these shoes I bought fit right. I'm standard mens. 8.5 in Onituska Tigers, my favorite sneakers ever. They're the best, comfiest, and fit nice. No surprises. I'm going to go back home and maybe take a walk. It's a very balmy day today, a bit overcast, but warm. People are wearing shorts around.

I'm missing the days of being 21 years old. It seems like you spend so much time waiting for these milestone birthdays, like 16, then 18, then 21, then it's like...hmm.. can I just stay at 21, please? 29 is kind of...not that great. And 30 is a milestone, but if you're alone it's kind of a sad milestone.

I'm really irritated by the bugs. There's more important things to get upset over, but I put all the effort into moving and I AM STILL SEEING BUGS. I don't fucking care if it's one spider or a fucking water beetle or whatever. It's unacceptable.

That's all for now.

Years ago, I used to enjoy writing short fiction and some creative non-fiction stories. It was a big hobby of mine, and a nice way for a shy and awkward teenager to escape to horrible world of the suburbs. Now, years later...I just feel like I can't do it. I can't even write a line or two without getting bored and looking at what I read and seeing a bunch of garbage. I wasted my college years majoring in Literature when I should have majored in Business, Marketing, or Communications. Or Nursing. Or SOMETHING ELSE. I had zero motivation and ambition after my mother died. And after my father died first, I really lost my support system. Dad always said he was my biggest fan, and he really meant it, too. I remember the least concert I sang in at elementary school, in late spring 1994. He was only a few months away from dying, but you never would have known it. He looked healthy and alive.

Anyway, I remember he stood up halfway and waved his arms in the air, and I smiled back and gave him a little wave. He was so geniune and happy, and smiled his big, wonderful smile. I miss him a lot, still, but my memories of him stop at age 12. It's not easy to carry those memories with you into adulthood. They start to fade away and turn into sad recollections.

Wouldn't everyone love to write a book about their fucked up childhoods and adolescence, about all the assholes who wronged them and treated them like shit, and have it published, and turned into a major bestseller? Then all of those same douche mongers could read them and take a metaphorical punch to the solar plexus. I need to push it and create something great, I have a lot of good material, but putting it into a semi-fictional story is tough to do. I'm not good at writing witty dialogue.
It turnes into mish-mash fiddle faddle.

I was going to go into the city today but just couldn't dredge up the energy. I had a slight nightmare last night anyway with too many bugs. I'm sick of it. My landlord never mentioned that there is a slight roach issue in this building. I really want to move, like, now. Out of Oakland, and out of California. Fucking forever, kiss it goodbye for the last time.

Happy New Year 2012.

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.

t


I woke up so early today, at 5am. Maybe it's the daylight savings time holdover or something. I've been paranoid about my health, especially lately. After doing a lot of reasearch about all kind of health problems on the www, I feel a little bit pacified, but not 100%. But I'm going to put that on the backburner for a bit and focus on my trip back to NYC to visit my family/have a few days vacay, in less than 1week.

I've been planning this trip for awhile, but haven't really reached goals I had for myself like: a) lose 40 lbs. (I don't really need to lose 40 lbs. Maybe 10 at the most.) b) buy some new glasses, like DKNY or Versace. (didn't happen. Eye glasses usually cost me about 400 for a good pair. No bueno.) c) Get some great outfits to wear. (also didn't happen. I have a new Old Navy sweaters that have shrunk after 1 washing and jeans that are slightly too big or too small.) d) do all of the above, and still manage to save about 500 dollars for incidentals, like getting my hair done and saving money for cabs, if I need it. Figuring out public transportation in NYC, to me, is like trying to do Calculus. Basically impossible.

SO. I will barely have enough to cover my hostel/hotel situation, and then a gift for my aunt. I guess that's ok. But, see, I am a very anxious type of person. I always have been, since childhood. I stress, stress, stress over little things, big things, things in-between, and things that haven't even happened yet. I hope to have a good time and not stress the fact that I can't afford a Burberry coat, or Frye boots, or highlights at Bumble and Bumble. Maybe next year. I just want to look my best in case something good happens. After yesterday evening/morning, though, I just want to get out of California for a week and away from this cesspool.

Night from Hell

I'm sitting at home, warm, cozy, in sweats, ready for Sunday night TV. There's a lot of good TV on tonight, too. But my night last night, while calm at work, was the commute from HELL. SATAN was in full form last night, busting out his minions in triple time. Ok, not really, but kind of something similar.

Sometimes I'm a little too early for work, which is ok. I hate being late and that drives me to always be a tad too early. Also, I don't want to be standing around waiting for AC transit to show up at 10pm, then have to walk, in the dark, dimly lit
street, to the subway stop. So I leave early, no biggie. I'll get off at another stop in the city and browse the drug store for a bit, get some Red Bull, magazines, etc.

So I do this. I go back out to wait for the bus. Now, I have had a good run for awhile. No street harrassment. No strange men hurling obscenities or insults. None of it. But I think last night/this morning made up for about 8 mths of peaceful commuting, more or less. At the bus stop there's a group of youngish guys. Kind of thuggish, in that fake MTV way. I'm putting on my scarf and one of the group, I guess their little ringleader, tries to talk to me. I was nice and vague, but it was cold, raining, and I'm too old for this shit. Poor little guy's ego couldn't handle rejection from a woman he a) didn't know, who was b) alone, and c) very unassuming, so he started on this insane rant about how women are bitches and he kept screaming about me as 'that bitch over there.' It was vile and horrible. An older guy standing at the stop felt bad for me, I think, and kind of moved over to where I was standing. It was very bad. I hadn't done anything but be nice, then kind of stop talking and go back to MY BUSINESS. This little a-hole's friends looked embarrassed and didn't say anything. Their friend completely clowned himself all over a woman he didn't know, who could have been 35 and married for all he knew. Once again, DON'T HARRASS WOMEN. Even if you think you're being funny or you really just have to say hello, it's not welcome, in a public transit stop, at 10pm in the night. It's just not. If you don't know that, you're either poorly educated or just a complete dumbass.

So I just dust it off, right? I'm like, seasoned to the freaks who come out at night and don't even care. It's my last night, I have my coffee, my power bar, my umbrella. Whatever. Work was fine, kind of long, and being daylight savings time change, I worked at 9 hour night. But will still get paid for only 8 hrs. But I wasn't even really tripping off of this or much eles. Not even the obscene toolbag from the bus stop. Whatever! Right?

This morning, I had another coffee run. I usually go to a sandwich shop that opens early, and the girl working there is always so nice, too. That helps. No weirdos. If I have extra cash, I'll leave 5 $ in the tip jar, and I gave a few dollars to a completely insane homeless crackhead, too, today. I felt so bad. The woman was just about on death's door.

So I drink the coffee, get up, leave, go to the subway. I'm walking down the long hall to the train, and out pops another horrible, dirty, crazy, missing teeth covered in dirt homeless man freak, who screams out, as if on command, fucking goofy bitch! I mean, it was like staccato gunfire. I was almost shocked at how many times I was verbally assaulted and called a bitch for nothing except trying to GO TO WORK AND GO HOME FROM WORK. ALONE. UNASSUMING. Does this happen to other people? Other women? I came home feeling very horrible, and ugly, too. Then I do what I always do when I feel insecure, which is take self portraits with my Blackberry, which, in turn, makes me even more secure because after 9 hours at work, on the graveyard shift, then a long commute home, makeup melted off, hair fucked up, bad early morning sunshine lighting, I look like Gollum. I had to take a long shower to wash away the horrible shame I felt of apparently being a really ugly, goofy bitch who gets attacked by horrible strange men. It was so bad. :(

My NYC trip is in 1 week exactly. I have a lot to do this week. Must confirm my hotel reservation and print out flight and hotel itinerary, go to H&M for some stuff,
borrow a carry on from my sister. Go to the bank when I get paid on Friday morning. I'll be extremely broke when I get back, but whatever. I also must get a birthday present for my aunt. I was thinking about getting her some turquoise jewelry. My mother loved turquoise and it would be a nice memory.

I just want to have a good week. No crazy scenes at the subway. Just calm and fine.
This time next week I'll be at my hotel in Manhattan, and am hoping it's not absolutely freezing. I need to try and have a good time this time. Last year I hibernated in my hotel room and was only there for a little over a night.

My tattoo removal is coming along, slowwwly. It hasn't really made a dent. Being broke sucks bigtime. I wanted to do all of this stuff to get myself a little more glam before going back East, get new boots, new glasses, and my hair done, and can't afford to do any of it. I'm hoping that I actually have a good time and am not wasting my money on this.

Last night was long and I spoke to some very rude and stupid people. And some nice and unfortunate people. Kind of par for the course, I suppose. Now it's over and I'm off, TG. All you can do is try your best.

I'm extremely unhappy w/ having 200 USD taken out of my checking account from MyLife.
I'm smart enough, or was smart enough, not to sign up and pay for shady shiz on the www, but now and again, your curiousity is piqued or you get lonely or whateva, right? So I decided to pay about 13 USD for a 1 month trial and look up some people I haven't seen in years.

Cue to astonishment over them almost immediately, as in, the second I put my card numbers in and hit 'done', taking 200 out of my account. I was flabbergasted. I also had to wait until 6am to get an explanation from customer service. They answered right away, but it seemed a little too easy. The girl asked for my email, zip code, and that was it, and was like, poof, your refund is done. I'm hoping that in 7-10 business days the money is back in my account. My trip is creeping closer and I need to save everything I have. I also need to cancel my debit card soon to avoid further charges from these people. I can't even access the account, they never emailed me my password. But the girl sounded nice, (as in, does that even matter anymore), and seemed very willing to fix the error. I'm really hoping that no other funds are going to be drawn from my account for a completely useless service that I can't even access.

I have my 2nd laser removal session tomorrow: not really looking forward to it. Now that I know what to expect, it's pretty bad. My hand will be pretty swollen for about 4-5 days, w/ blisters. Not
pretty. Takes about 2 weeks to heal.

I'm not sure if I should even bother getting my hair done before going back East. I thought about getting lighter brown highlights. I need to get some boots, though, and a warm coat that doesn't make me look like a penguin.

I don't know why people my age are in a mad race to have children. I guess it's not for everyone.

I just can't imagine doing that to my body. I feel like I've missed the boat sometimes, as if I have a hazy image of how my life would have been if my mother hadn't died 12 years ago. I don't know, really. Probably a lot different. I don't think I would have gone through some phases I went through in my later teens, early twenties. It's really hard to process extreme tragedy for children.
I'm not sure how adults don't understand that. I think I chose not to even try to process it,I ignored it for as long as I could until I felt emotions that were too hard to deal with, too hard to ignore. I guess it was going to happen eventually. You can't live in denial forever.

I'm not really sure when it was in my life that people who came into it were actively trying tohurt me in some kind of way. I suppose after my dad died, then after my mom died, it was like,you're alone. There is no responsible adult who really cares about you, your future, or the decisions you make. It's much more complex to raise children once they are almost legal adults. I feel like my development from adolescent to adult just never really happened sometimes.

Indian Summer

It's pretty hot out today, 84 degrees so far. I accomplished some stuff, new clothes, etc., I was in dire need. My clothing situation was looking very grunge, and not the kind that is on purpose. Being thrifty, I went to Old Navy and spent much less than I would have at another department store.

These people who work the kiosks at the malls need to stop doing cocaine or whatever it is that makes them act like raging psychos. This metrosexual kind of guy with a little ponytail on top of his head chased me down, literally, to try their bogus looking shady-euro makeup. I said no, thanks, and he gave me a card. So then once I walked away, he started yelling at me to give him back his card. I walked back, and was like, dude, what the hell is your problem. He goes, with his eyes wide and crazed, "I just want to show you my makeup!" I considered calling the mall concierge to complain. He was too crazy. Those people are usually annoying, but this guy was like, full on, wild eyed, psycho. Maybe he reached his breaking point being rejected by the passers-by all the time. I avoid that mall if I can help it, unless it's time to go back to Victoria's Secret.

I hate shopping. Truly loathe it. Back in college, when I had more money, I remember loving going to the Willow Brook Mall in Wayne, NJ, and spending probably anywhere from 700-800

at Bloomingdale's, Sephora, and sometimes on shoes. I probably spent about 2000 a month on clothing. For a college student, that's pretty ridiculous. And so naive I was to think that I would be able to find a job to support my habits, plus pay rent and bills, too. I can't even really think back on it without cringing. I could have used that money for a car, a down payment on apartment, medical stuff, dental stuff. I was in a horrible state of denial for so long, probably age

12 to age 22. Ten years of depression, denial, psychological decline. At least I'm still young. Whatever! Right? Who cares? Nervous breakdowns happen all the time! If that's what it even was. I don't like to put labels on things.

Something cute, furry, and happy to look at.

This week went by pretty fast. Still, I'm tired. Very blah right now. I talked to an old friend today; sometimes even though you have grudges, you have to be like, 'so what'. As you get older, you might need to have a few people you can always call. I'm learning that the future is not a faraway thing and time moves so fast. No one is impenetratable or invincible.

Except Mickey Rourke.

Swoon.

I've been looking at pics of Hilary Swank for hair inspiration. I can embrace looking a bit like her on a good day. That's a great thing, actually. I don't see it, but I have the same sort of mouth/teeth/facial situation. Her grooming and style is light years beyond mine, though, being an A-list celeb and all. Oh well.

Vacaciones is creeping closer, evvvver so slowwwwly. My diet plan isn't really coming to fruition as much as I thought it would, though. It's not really even made a dent. I think working nights has hampered what metabolism I do, or did, have. I've stopped eating nights, too, just coffee and water. I don't know. Maybe I'm overreacting to nothing. I've learned to stop wishing for size 2. Just because I'm tall doesn't equal automatic thinness. Supermodels don't eat, they musn't even be able to breathe the scent of cake for fear of gaining half a pound. I'm over trying to kill myself w/ a diet or 'lifestyle change', if you want to call it that. It's all the same. I've been size 2, even a size 0 at Old Navy, where their clothing runs larger. Maybe it really is all about portion control. I don't really feel like I'm very out of control of anything, though. I think I'm ok. Once I get very thin, my period starts to act haywire, and I can't go down that road again.

October Rust

I'm pretty happy that it's October, and also that it's Sunday. Two good things. Last night wasn't too bad. It's never perfect.

Today's a nice day: cold, gray, and dark. The sun is taking longer to come up, daylight savings is coming soon. My trip to NYC is about a month away. I'm realizing I won't have enough money to do all the things I wanted to do, to get myself ready and looking/feeling good before I go. Oh well. At least I'm going.

I still have nervousness about things though. The semipermanence of things. Things now are pretty permanent, but there is the 10 percent part of the little pie that is titled the 'not knowing
part'. I'm just going to leave that alone, though, or try to.

I found a yoga center in Oakland, about 20 minutes from my apartment: it seems pretty great:
they offer therapy, deep tissue massges, acupuncture, and they have a cute boutique where they sell yoga clothes, mats, bags, etc. Plus the classes are fairly cheap and they offer all kinds of specials. I'm going to go soon, one Sunday evening or Monday morning. I really need to do something for myself that is social, but not too social. I want to really get into it and let my life flow in a more peaceful way, w/ less blockage from all sorts of negative people/energy. I just don't need it anymore. I can't dwell on it, I can't think about it, I can't have it in my life. I'm not going into my 30s still wondering or feeling bad over shit that happened when I was 23 years old. I really feel like centering myself with yoga and taking classes will be a big positive. I can't go every day b/c of work, but even one or two a week will be good. I need to do a lot of re-tooling on myself. I've fallen into a slump.

Coffee shops play the worst music sometimes.

Sometimes I think that being alone is a good thing. I really do. It's hassle-free. Burden-free. I guess companionship is what everyone covets, but it just seems to bring a tons of heartache, eventually. Break-ups and fights. Repeat and repeat. I can't handle things like that. I don't care to even deal with the possibility of a situation like that. People get lazy, or scared of being alone, or they want someone to financially depend on. So many people marry or get involved for the wrong reasons. Sometimes I feel a huge disconnect from other people, as humans. It's Sunday morning, and early, and I'm not really into debating things on my blog, but I had to touch on that. California is such a strange place. It's such a magnet for horrible low lifes, horrible yuppies, wannabe gurus, wannabes in general. If you have a lot of success, that's great, but I just feel like there is something so strange and slightly off about people out here. Maybe it's me, maybe it's not me.

I've thought about trying to move to Philadelphia. There's affordable housing and probably more jobs than other places. And it's back East, slightly familiar scenery. I've got to do something. Make some kind of change. I can't just be in California forever. I don't feel like it will be good for me if I wake up in 10 years, still living here. That thought gives me the bad chills, actually. Very bad.

Moving is the worst kind of hassle, and I can't imagine dragging my possessions across the country. Apartments don't fall out of the sky. Landlords are suspicious by nature and most of them check credit. If they don't, they're either extremely cool and understanding about life's difficulties, or the place is kind of bogus on some level. I think there's a chance that I could move
back East and still keep my job, but it probably would be a slim chance. Also, I'm not sure if Philly is very walkable, but I think it might be. I went down there once and it wasn't too bad. Same things every other city has, crime, violence, some shadiness. You can't escape that unless you move back to the suburbs, I guess. If I did move to Philly, I would have to have a cash cushion and a place to go immediately. Maybe it would be good, a good decision, good place to go. Kind of new territory, but close to some familiarity. If I wanted to visit my aunt, I could take a train and be there in an hour, not fly six hours across the GD country. I just don't want to be out here anymore. I feel so disconnected and I just don't like it. It's not my place. I don't love it here.

Found this picture when I was searching for peaceful celestial imagery. Kind of cool. Very
tired today, but how is that different from any other day. Last night was so long and at a few
moments, I was more than exhausted. It's really unpleasant to be feeling exhausted and alternately have adrenaline hit when you have a tense moment at work, all at 2:30am. I'm really starting to just get fed up with commuting, and walking, and commuting again, and the nighttime humidity, then freezing cold in the morning, and the lack of sleep. It's really hard, really, really hard and not a lot of people can understand or sympathize. By the time morning rolls around and the sun begins to come up, I'm hardly able to put a rational thought together, and kind of stumble home. Wish this wasn't the way my life was going, but no other choice right now. I can't complain too much.

I haven't listened to this album in a long time. (Psalm 69 by Ministry) Sometimes you don't really want music that you listened to during a bad time to bring you back, but I think I've moved on enough so that I can listen to it and not feel horror or fear. My coma lifted and now I'm awake, trying to motivate to clean, or watch movies. I also want to stop doing or thinking about things that are counterproductive to even small success.

It's Sunday! So happy, but am very tired. Sat/Sun at work is always very hard. This week just wasn't my week. I had some calls with mistakes, obv. unintentional, but still. I'm usually error free. Seeing those messages in my work acct kind of started my shitty week off and it kept rolling, complete with a case of the hiccups at 2-3 am, and a few moments of extreme fatigue. The good thing is that they go away if you blast loud music or movies for a few minutes. Does the trick every time, I think.

I watched The Walking Dead pilot episode last night (so happy I finally have On Demand) and
holy sheez that was some scary business! At first I thought it was going to be some really standard, been there a million times kind of zombie thing, but it was good. Not really too good watching it in the dark with a candle burning, though. I'm going to try and watch 2 episodes this morning before my coma starts.

Hoping I can get the Pittsburgh train this morning, so that I can catch a cab at 12th st. I can't really handle walking home today, w/ humidity, possible rain, and my fatigue. When there's mistakes at work, it's kind of pointed out to you in a way that is very cut and dry. I guess sometimes there's no other way, but it still stings a bit. I haven't had any CC mistakes in
almost 8 months. I think that's probably good. I hope it is.

I need to get a new coat, b/c this blue fleece I'm wearing is the kind of jacket a soccer and
rugby playing girl who graduated from UNC Chapel Hill would be wearing. I also miss my long hair, but it looked so bad before I cut it. It had to go. I think I'll lighten it before I go back to
NYC. I should go back to black clothing. I'm not in tune with my identity right now, in terms of
the way I look. I also need new glasses in the worst way. Some tortoiseshell frames would be good. My red librarian glasses I wear have taken much abuse.

Almost forgot, today is the big S&M, in your face fest that is the Folsom St. Fair. I've never
gone, and will be sleeping all day, but probably wouldn't check it out. This city is so liberal that
you could probably walk around in leather chaps and a ball gag on Tuesday afternoon and people would just smile. Not in all neighborhoods, but some.

Sometimes I'm not sure I believe in karma. But today, at this moment, I really hope that
it is real.

As much as I love Mickey Rouke, circa 1990's and recent, this is the kind of man I hope to end up with one day. And that completes my daily duties to the Blog Gods b/c I have to rest now. Peace and harmony to you.

I just watched 'Wild Orchid' and had to post a picture of one of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen on film. <3