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March 25, 2001
[i am not very with it...]
I am not very with it right
now; I have a cold. But it's Sunday, and most of the day lies
ahead, and it's sunny for once, and I'm feeling webby. So
here are the first ten things I can think of that I want right
- A brand new car
There are many doors in my hallway.
It would be nice if I could stand in the hallway and say,
"I'll take Door Number 3, Bob," and a brand new
car would be waiting behind it, gleaming. Or a nice new-looking
- Decent headphones
- Digital Camera
- Cooler Apartment
- Vacuum Cleaner
- More Friends
- Increased Ability to Retain/Comprehend Information
I've noticed lately that I am
full of partial information. I know a little about a lot
of stuff, but that amount is not enough. In conversations,
I often end up sounding flaky. Maybe I need to take Ginko
- Desire to Exercise
I have become the stereotypical
American woman: I want to lose 10 pounds.
March 19, 2001
[dumb things i've done...]
Dumb things I've done recently:
1) Accidentally brushed teeth with Equate (Cortizone cream). This happened at Greg's apartment. It was a tiny tube, and it really looked like a travel version of toothpaste. The label wasn't facing me when I picked it up. When I realized that the toothpaste didn't taste or feel like toothpaste, I spat (a lot) and ran out into the living room, calling: "Greggeh Greggeh! I brushed my teeth with Equate! Am I gonna die?" We read the back of the tube. You're not supposed to give Equate to little kids. I called Poison Control and was too giggly to tell the lady what I had brushed my teeth with. I kept saying, "I brushed my teeth with -- " (laughter). Finally, she said, "You brushed your teeth with what?" and I said, "Cortizone," and she said, "Don't worry, we get calls like this all the time."
2) Met Greg at his house 2 hours before a wedding that was an hour and a half away. Realized upon arrival that I'd forgotten my dress. We went to the mall, and somehow, in under 15 minutes, I managed to find a dress that not only fit, but was nearly an exact replica of the one I had planned to wear, though slightly cheaper in both make and price. Thank you, Express. And thank you to the normally overzealous sales girls ("Do you know what Fast Cash is? Do you have an Express Card with us? Do you?") for leaving me alone for once. They probably noticed something was up what with Greg there in a suit and tie. Now I have two of the same dress, essentially. We were only 15 minutes late to the wedding. I changed in the car. Generally not a recommended practice, but Greg seemed to get a kick out of it.
March 17, 2001
[i haven't been very happy...]
I haven't been very happy lately. Disturbingly, I can't really define why I haven't. If I knew what would make me satisfied, I would find some way to enforce the Long Term Satisfaction Plan of Action. Maybe this is chronic; I know there's a pattern to the entries here. Whine whine, I miss college, I'm confused, blah. Maybe I'm leaving behind the confusion and entering a full-blown sadness. Nah - the second sentence reeks too much of confusion.
I have to remind myself that work is work, and life is so much more than work. But work sometimes gets me down. If there were more people around in my post-workday existence, I might not obsess over little things so much.
I keep expecting each week to be better than the last, because they almost have to be. But instead, each week is just the same unmotivated experience over and again. I start with a positive attitude, sing in the car on the way to the office and everything. The days go downhill from there.
March 11, 2001
funeral + apartment break-in
I shouldn't be doing this now, I should be going to the hairdresser.
Here's a review of the weekend, brief, copied from an email to a friend. Sometimes I don't want to forget weird days.
"i was in your area yesterday - went to a funeral in bloomsburg. it was strange. my boyfriend's aunt died after dental work caused an infection that led to cardiac arrest. she was 34. we ate in the basement of the church after the ceremony; it was wholly unappetizing. smelled like a thrift store, too.
"then i helped my boyfriend's brother move into his apartment in allentown. we got there, and the deadbolt had broken so that the key wouldn't open it. they (boyfriend, his brother, and his dad) unhinged the front door but couldn't remove it. finally the maintenance guy was able to break in through the patio door. we had rung the doorbells of everyone in nearby apartments to ask them to borrow their phones, and no one answered, but we saw someone come out from all of the apartments we'd tried at some point during our wait. how rude.
"it was just an odd day."
With some people, I use capitalization. But usually, when someone doesn't capitalize with me, I don't with them. I want to communicate at the same level.
[this is greg's old apartment...]
This is Greg's old
apartment building. The highlighted part is his actual
place; windows from left to right = bathroom, kitchen,
living room, then bedroom. I showered here, the window
open, looking out over Oakland to Carnegie Mellon University,
relishing the cool air as it clashed with the hot stream
of water. I did dishes in the kitchen while Greg was
at class, listening to Dusty Springfield wailing about
love's woes. I played Nintendo, and watched crappy videos
on The Box, and ate numerous meals, and spent many lazy
hours in the living room, Greg next to me, a constant
comfort. And I slept sometimes in the sparsely furnished
bedroom, listening to the sounds of night on Ward Street.
Now someone else does
these things - at least some of them. The building to
the right of this one is my ex-building. Sometimes I
I went back a couple
of weeks ago, and had more fun than I've had in a while.
It's just too easy to be nostalgic.
March 05, 2001
[sometimes, little things can...]
Sometimes, little things can add up to a bad week. Like a promised blizzard that turns out to be an inch of ice on the car windshield and nothing more. Like knowing I have a week full of sales meetings. Like dreading eating dinner at a house with cats, because my brain, along with my nose and eyes, will feel puffy and malfunctional.
But sometimes weeks that should be bad end up just fine, because of internal chemicals that produce a jolly indifferent attitude. Likewise, some weeks that look good on paper suck.
I read today that the effects of external forces on your life tend to last for about six months. The column's example said that if, for instance, you are depressed and win the lottery, you will be happy for about six months, and then you'll go back to being depressed. That's kind of drastic. But I was thinking earlier (before I read this) about how I think I've "gotten over" having my job. I no longer occasionally think about how I can't believe I have the job I have. Now I'm just worried about holding onto it.
Now that I'm more accustomed to life as I'm living it, the thought of losing this job and the money that comes with it is disturbing. But so is the idea of becoming complacent from being an early success. I can almost feel myself becoming increasingly boring (see first paragraph). It's scary. It makes me want to move to the city and practice living like an artist.