Archive for June, 2004
Sometimes the level that a person is capable of self-delusion really astounds me.
I like to think that I'm fully aware of my own actions in any disagreement, both from my own point of view and the other party's. That's because, being as my mind is very cinematic, I replay things over and over, and each cycle I reflect differently on how things transpired. I know I have been accused of exactly the same thing (failing to see what I've done wrong and only blaming the other person) by others, but in actuality I feel that why I don't entirely disclose what I feel I've done wrong (what's the point of that; how's that gonna win an arguement), I am still perfectly aware of it.
I dunno, maybe that's the case here. But whenever anyone asks me, "hey, did you realize you were really an asshole for doing so and so" I don't generally argue with them that I never did so and so.
My third roommate, the loveable and illustrious Leelu, is on my fucking nerves. Despite the fact that some time ago we (Jake and I) had a long conversation expressly stating to her that her financial situation was a liabilty for us and if she failed to repair it she would be gone, after only one month of only sortof no problems with the bills and the rent, the landlord storms up to me because she's written him another rubber cheque.
So I have lost my patience. I'm not patient in general, and I certainly don't have the time to be babying a twenty nine year old into making sure she pays her expenses when they're due. By that age, really, if you can't balance a chequebook and can't pay your bills, you're of no asset to humanity and would benefit it better by moving to a leper colony. Poor lepers.
We got into a fight. And now it's passed the point of no return. She seems to think that by saying, "Oh I'm sorry, it won't happen again," I'll believe her and go, "Oh, it's okay, I know you make fifty thousand more a year than I do, and I know that even on my salary I can afford your room, but that new dress was really important and you CERTAINLY should've gotten it instead of paying your 150.00 long distance bill to France." Fuck that.
So we're at war. I want her to leave. She's decided that she wants to make it as difficult as possible, so I have absolutely no problem with that. It's been six months, six months of not a damn thing paid when it was supposed to be paid. While Jake and I pay our rent on the first of the month, she's apparently special and gets to pay hers on the nineteenth or twentith. Fuck that.
Then we got into a fight today because she has two demonic cats– who are beyond evil because she never feeds them and leaves them locked together in one tiny kennel all night instead of having them in her room while she's fucking her abusive ex boyfriend– and the one was terrorizing my cat for an hour while I was getting ready for work. Despite telling her uncountable amounts of time that they aren't allowed outside of her room because they pee on my bed and rip open Jake's cat's ear, the worst of the two was prowling around the apartment. Then finally, as I walk into the kitchen to get the last of my things together, I see her cat vault itself into the air and onto mine with a flurry of teeth and claws and my cat screams and runs away with gigantic tufts of her fur trailing behind, and I lose my mind. I storm into my room to scribble a clear note on a piece of paper for her– Your cats DO NOT BELONG outside your room– and tape it to her door. Then I hear her scurry out and pick up her cat and speak to it like it was the poor thing that had just been attacked.
Jake called me two seconds later and I proceed to recount the morning to him. She's evesdropping in the living room and thinks she's so elvish and I don't notice, so I made sure to speak very clearly so she heard everything I said about her.
"Little boys who evesdrop always hear the truth, and the truth is devistating."
So she got offended by what I said, and I told her to sit on my cock, and a bunch of other words went back and forth– with Jake on the phone and hearing it all– before I left for work and shut the door on all the shit she was screaming. The last thing I remember saying was, "If I wanted to cater to royalty, I'll move to Buckingham Palace," which caused Jake to audibly choke with laughter.
I'm pissed, and I want her to leave. It's my fucking apartment, and I swear to christ.
I am never. NEVER living with a girl again.
29 June 2004 at 10:22 am | No Comments » 
introspection
The cat is pregnant.
But first, lemmie tell you a story.
Back before I saw Wicked, I read the book. Now the fabulous-ness of the book is that it tells the story of Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of Oz acclaim, before Dorothy came and sang about rainbows and birds and just generally annoyed me very much. Glinda (although in the beginning she's Galinda and still has the A.) is off to a boarding-school-ish type university, where she meets Elphaba. In the beginning of the book, she's forced to room with Elphaba, much to her horror (cos she is green and that's SUCH a social disaster), because of various issues involving her chaperonne, lack of preperation on Miss Good's part, and a rusty nail.
You'll understand my point in a second.
So to avoid being forced into a dormitory setting with a bunch of other girls, she convinces the headmistress that her chaperonne (which is a bit like a live-in nanny/nurse/slave thing) can't be expected to look after anybody but Glinda because she has this horrible illness that causes her to speak to inanimate objects and forget about the living ones. It's made up but the principal agrees and sticks her with Elphaba.
Later on something "happened," and the chaperonne is traumatized, and develops this fake disease. Glinda's terrified because she feels she magicked it into existance unwittingly.
I pulled a Glinda. I got the cat pregnant.
Two weeks ago I overslept and didn't feel like going into work on time, so I called my boss and said I had to take my cat to the vet and I'd be in by noon. So ofcourse I come in at noon and my boss, being that kind of person, asks about the cat. So I blurt, "Oh, she's fine, she's just pregnant." So my boss, being that kind of person, gets incredibly excited and starts asking about the kittens, who'll get them, when they're due, what they'll look like, can I have one, can I have one?
So I'm trying now to figure out how to come up with some other lie in order to get out of the tiny detail that there are no kittens. The next day I come to work and in my office on my desk is a card with a kitten baking a loaf of bread and the words, "Congrats on the new arrival."
:|
So then in the following days, my cat becomes bigger and bigger. I notice this but I pay no attention to it, cos she hasn't even gone into heat yet, she couldn't possibly be pregnant. Then I find out that Paco's aunt, who lived with him, had an unneutered male cat living in the house too.
Unneutered male cat + unspayed female cat = denial.
Now she's the size of a small dog, and she wobbles around the house, and when she lies down she lies down half of her body first and with an effort falls onto the rest of herself with a huff.
She looks like my mom. Apparently cats get knocked up early in the Bronx, too.
So the long and short of it is, cos I lied to my boss, I've magicked sperm into my kitty's uterus and now the damn thing is going to lay spawn all over my apartment.
I was so depressed I bought a bird. She's trying to eat it but she knows she doesn't have her gravity-defying skillz anymore. My tiny room is suddenly becoming overrun with live-things.
There's more going on, but I have a headache and I'm tired and this entry somehow got a thousand words bigger than I expected it to. Fuck you. Who wants a kitten?
23 June 2004 at 10:58 am | 4 Comments » the daily things
I'm deleriously tired.
De. Ler. Iously.
Monday I received my very first credit card. It was nothing, a Macys card with a 100.00 limit cos I have absolutely no credit whatsoever, but it's a start and I feel 50x more adult now after having maxed it out on tuesday.
It wasn't difficult to do. For 90.00 I bought two new shirts, three pairs of socks, and a pair of underwear. THIS is why I still own and wear clothes I bought when I was fourteen. Cos they're too fucking expensive.
The shirts are phenominally hot on me however. They're both small and somewhat fitted, and with all the working-out I'm doing to make myself a massive studd they look hothothot. I wore one today and I got checked out like I was supafly walking to work.
Daaaamn baby, shut yo mouth.
One's blue with a black stripe, and the other's black with a grey stripe. Calvin Klein, both. Ooh, Frost in a brand-name. Who'd have known.
In other news, I'm now in charge of the fiasco of what is quickly becoming the biggest thing in my existance. As the executive bitch, it's my job to organise the fund-raiser/soiree that is coming up at the end of the month.
I don't go to parties, much less throw them. And this is an event with three hundred people, all of whom are rich and famous. I've had to call a CATERER.
Yesterday I single-handedly designed and constructed the press-kit that will be given out at the event. It's fucking spectacular. I've gathered together the best press-clippings of my company over the past ten years and made us look much, much more famous than we are.
Apparently my boss was in GQ magazine. He was actually rather hot when he had hair.
All of this is karma for last week, in which my other boss (who's generally the only one ever in my office) was on vacation, and I took the opportunity to display my total reliability by coming in after noon, doing nothing at all, leaving by four, and then mad-dashing to finish all the work she'd left for me on friday.
I can't wait until I get a visa. L a p t o p.
16 June 2004 at 1:39 pm | 1 Comment » the daily things
So, I was looking for an old entry I'd written in my paper journal a few years ago, and in doing so I had to flip through many many entries I've penned, and since it was two in the morning and my thoughts tend to become insightful in a manner only befitting potheads at that hour, things got freaky.
I reflected on how this site's approaching its second birthday. Ofcourse, my baby's been alive much longer than that, but it's the anniversary of two years without losing the entries or wiping everything fully clean. It's a record.
I reflected on how I used to stay up until four in the morning writing poetry that meant things to me, working on music, writing in GENERAL, scribbling into my journal, words, lyrics, songs, crap, shit, stuff, anything, thoughts, nothing, kent, so, so much about kent, and then I'd get up for school at 7 am.
I've become spoiled in my old age.
I think things mattered to me back then. I don't know if they do now. My existence is a plateau, only I haven't quite figured out what the leveled space means. I feel like I'm progressing but I don't know what towards, yet I feel that me as a spiritual being is doing nothing. Fuck Jesus, he isn't what I'm talking about.
Something else.
Some sortof purpose. Where do I fit in on the Cosmic Jigsaw Puzzle that is destiny?
That's why I feel voidless. Cos I've got no clue.
14 June 2004 at 12:28 pm | 1 Comment » introspection
I dunno.
I've tried, over the course of my time in New York and thus far away from you, to figure out a way to forgive you. The fact that you really didn't do anything all that wrong– certainly not anything worse than what I've done since– should be indicative of the state of things, I think.
Maybe it isn't you I've been having a hard time trying to forgive, but me.
I can't say that you used me, because we both know you served a purpose yourself. And I can't say you're a horrible person, but maybe my residual anger is just because you were the first person to ever do what you did, and I never expected it to come from your direction. I doubt I'm still angry at you, but I think I'm angry because every time I talk to you you're a reminder of the mistake I made. And if nothing else I hate to be reminded of my mistakes.
So I don't mean to give the impression that I absolve you of responsibility now, cos I hold grudges far longer than really makes sense, and I still think you're an asshole, but I'm saying maybe I'm willing to release myself from cringing every time a memory of us having sex goes through my head.
If nothing else you gave great handjobs.
6 June 2004 at 11:41 pm | No Comments » introspection
To whom it may concern:
It is my sincere hope that you have received information about this already, but I wanted to take the time to bring your attention– in the unfortunate event someone hasn't already beaten me to it– news that I find horrifying. Perhaps the most disturbing fact of all would be that I have not heard about it at all until now.
If you take a look at the following website, you will find an article about a campaign aimed at reactivating the military draft by the year 2005.
In an effort to avoid soapboxing my own views and opinion, I simply wish to implore you to make notice information about this new legislation that, like the Patriot Act passed some time ago, is being carried out in a blatant attempt to slip past the notice of the public and be passed without our permission or voice. This is not democratic, this is deceit, and I feel the media is obligated to stand up against something like this.
6 June 2004 at 1:05 am | No Comments » proselytizing
So aside from getting alcohol poisoning, this weekend I also got a cat.
She's adorable enough to thaw even my frigid heart, rolls around, sleeps and acts like a dog, and makes little mew noises every time she moves. She was given to me by a friend who I shall pseudonym Paco cos he'll hate it and punch me, whom I've never written about before because until lately his existance has not been worthwhile enough.
That was a joke, don't hurt me.
So now I'm at work, eating a piece of pizza and drinking coffee, missing my cat and wanting a massage. I'm glad this week is short cos I'm already ready for a vacation.
2 June 2004 at 12:13 pm | 2 Comments » shutterbugs
