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18 July 2002
It occurred to me earlier today that this website is like a bad relationship. I show up for a day or two, and then disappear for weeks, leaving no word and no inkling of where I've been. I'm sure you've all been waiting with bated breath to hear what I've been doing in the last three weeks or so. Yeah right. Anyway, I'm moving again, at the end of the month. I believe tomorrow morning I am going to close a deal on a little house in Glenside, splitting the rent with my two roommates-to-be, Liz and Sara. It's three bedrooms (or actually, two bedrooms and a small room that will be converted to a bedroom), a kitchen, a dining room, an enormous basement, yard and two car garage. It's a sweet little thing, and I can't tell you how eager I am to make house, to settle in, and keep my ass planted in one place for at least a year. Not to mention I already have Trading Spaces-esque interior design ideas dancing in my head. I'm expecting between the three of us, it will be a mellow, peaceful little dwelling. And lord knows, I need mellow. What else. I've been working at Borders. Oops, nameless corporate bookstore that is not Barnes and Noble, sorry. I've been trying to work at my other job, the tile showroom, but my boss there seems extremely deficient when it comes to the skill of returning phone calls. But the usual: broke, but at least I'm eating healthier. I have given up: soda, fast food, red meat. The only thing I drink now is water, soymilk and the occasional Lynchberg Lemonade (and I do mean occasional. VERY occasional). Although I haven't lost any weight, I am still going strong after two weeks, and feeling pretty fab. I am also amazingly together, mentally. I'm trying to figure out if this is a temporary summer reprieve or if I've truly learned to live without SSRIs and a weekly therapy appointment. And I'm looking forward to school. And the work that I'm going to make, have already started to make. I went to the studio yesterday and worked, and then Lindsay and I went out to eat at The Comet. It felt so right, and I missed it so much. I don't know, I just feel relieved. ps. more tomorrow. pps. most of the (what I felt was) superfluous stuff is gone from this site. I finally figured out that, duh, this site was supposed to be about writing.
19 July 2002
The house is ours! Liz and I went to see it yesterday, and she LOVED it. I'm betting Sara will too (she wasn't able to see it because she's in Pittsburgh for the summer and just started a new job). So. Our little piece of suburbia is secure. It's nice, cute, unpretentious surburbia, not the bougeoise trash McMansion suburbia that seems to make up most of Montgomery county. Jo, my landlady-to-be, is such a nice, sweet person, and it seems like we're going to have a good relationship. I have had amazing luck when it comes to landlords (with the exception of the pyscho bitch lawyer lady). And instead of feeling like moving will be a burden, it feel like it's going to a good thing, a good change. Liz told me she wants to stay in the house for two years, and I'm so glad. It's a perfect, central location - not too far from work, school or the city. I'm hoping this is going to be my last move in Philadelphia. Tonight I saw Lauren in The Sound of Music in Hershey. To be perfectly kind, it wasn't the best show she's ever been in. Some of the cast members were very weak. The sound system was a complete disaster, which wasn't helped by the fact that the performance was held in a cavernous high school auditorium. The production had a costumer, though you wouldn't have known it - the period costumes were all wrong. Painfully wrong. All that and I'd forgotten how damn long the show was (though I don't know why I'm surprised, the movie is 3 hours, after all). But anyway, Lauren was good. She had the best voice is the show, and she also had some ballet parts as well. I watched her sing and dance, and she just looked radiant, like she belonged up there. ... Lately, I've become sort of a fashion addict. Since the glasses and the haircut (and the loss of five pounds, whoo) I've been actually been starting to care how I look. Gone are the days of sweatpants and corduroy workshirts (except for, you know, working). I am combing the pages of Vogue and surfing the Style network, looking for inspiration. My latest obsession are my eyebrows. It started when I found a book at work all about sculpting your eyebrows. Yes, an ENTIRE book. I got a little carried away. Obsessive, perhaps. And I was upstairs in the bathroom, attempting to trim my eyebrows. The hairs are very long, much like my eyelashes, and I was trying to tame it. And I went too far. I spent the next few hours freaking out, asking everyone around me if they could notice the bald spot. It was then that I realized that my vanity had bitten me in the ass. And really, it wasn't that bad in the end. My bangs and glasses mostly covered it. But I think I need to have a professional deal with this next time. God. I'm such an idiot. listening: Trading Spaces listening: Silver Lining, Bonnie Raitt 21 July 2002 I just finished watching the season premiere of Sex and the City. I was somewhat disappointed on how much the series has changed in such a short time. I sometimes wonder if the whole "Miranda having a baby" thing was a good idea, or if it's just going to make her character irrelevant in terms of the single girl scene. I hope not, because I think she's one of the most interesting characters in the show, and she's the one I identify with the most - very passionate and success-driven. Despite my earlier misgivings, I really love the show. I've spent the last month or so renting and watching the first three seasons on DVD. The writing of the show is so tight, as good as Will and Grace. Hopefully once we move into the house, we'll be able to get HBO and I won't have rely on my parents to tape all my favorite shows. ... Our family went on a shopping outing today, and amazingly enough, we didn't manage to kill each other. I spent some time at Target trying to figure out what bookcases I want to buy. Whether I want to get some relatively cheap ones now, or wait a bit and invest in some nicer ones at Ikea. God. I'm talking about bookcases. I'm so exciting. My sister and parents also got new cellphones, which ended up being a big deal because my Dad gets pissy every time we spend money. My parents needed a new one, because their current cellphone was circa 1996 or so and a good 2 inches thick. It belonged in a museum somewhere. Lauren needed a new cellphone because of an unforunate accident that involved her being pushed into a pool fully clothed, purse and cellphone in hand. But that's another story. I know I've mentioned my relationship with my sister before. Well, strangely enough, it's been getting better. She seems to have taken me on as her little pet project, giving me tips on how to eat and stay in shape, and she was overjoyed when she heard I had lost five pounds. And I guess I'm seeing her in a different light. She really does have a great innate sense of style and a great personality. A little fashionista. She's taken things that I never thought to wear and make them look fabulous. We went into the Borders in Harrisburg (so my family could utilize my fabulous employee discount), and I led her to the fashion section, because I knew she'd like it. She was browsing the books, when she pulled one out to look at it. It was called "Decades of Beauty", and unknown to her, I had purchased the exact same book from my Borders a couple weeks before. What a weird coincidence. I guess we're not as far apart as I thought. listening: Silver Lining, Bonnie Raitt 23 July 2002 25 years ago today my parents got married! Yay for them. Six songs from Tori Amos' new album are available online, but I can't seem to get them to download. It would take me a good 2 hours to get them all, so I just gave up. Maybe it's meant to be. I'll probably just wait til the album comes out, which is what I did for her last one (not that it made it any better, I still can't stand it). Tomorrow starts the great pack-up. My parents are coming down to help me out a bit. I'm hoping this will be a very much less painful move than the last. I think it will, namely because I won't be going up two flights of stairs and it won't be 30 degrees out (though it will probably be 90). listening: Cabin Fever!, Rasputina 24 July 2002 Drea and I went out tonight. We were going to go to Ikea, to bow to the altar of home furnishings, but by the time we got there, it was closed. So we went to TGI Friday's. I had a giant frozen Cosmopolitan and a salad. I was thirsty, so I drank it quickly, and by the time I was halfway through my salad, I was trashed. But I was sober enough to look at the check and realize that my drink cost more than my entree. Christ. Once in the car, I became incredibly, almost overwhelmingly sleepy. It's always interesting to see how alcohol affects me - it's never the same twice. I didn't trust myself to drive home, so I collapsed on Drea's couch and through a haze watched the Style channel before passing out. I woke up two hours later, and stumbled to my car and drove home, by then more tired than drunk. All this from one drink. listening: White Ladder, David Gray 25 July 2002 I do not think that we can fully understand how one makes a specific mark on a page - at some point one has to trust one's eye, one's intuition. I do not think that that implies a lack of rational thought. I just think that one cannot understand why one makes a specific move, that the creative act is a combination of conscious and subconscious thoughts that cannot or should not be deciphered. (Maya Lin) I finally got this book on Maya Lin that I had wanted for nearly a year - I ordered it for myself for Christmas, but didn't end up buying it because I ran out of money. I wish I hadn't waited that long. She is amazing. The book is mostly composed of essays on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and other pieces she's designed. She is such a gifted writer, and it's such a rare and wonderful thing that a person's thoughts, a person you've never met, should align so perfectly with your own. I wasn't reading something brand new, it was like I was being reminded of something that had always been inside of me, something innate. I actually had a discussion with a couple of other people earlier this week about the function of writing in conjuction with art, and their general consensus was that while it was nice, it certainly wasn't required and besides, we "shouldn't have to explain ourselves, if we wanted to do that, we would've been writers." I've always felt it's so illuminating to write about your art. If not for other people, at least for yourself. I think most people tend to think that the need to write about a piece of your own art is a weakness, that the piece is not strong enough to stand on its own conceptually and has to be "explained". I really think that it can be so much more. Art and writing is generally meant to stand on its own, but why can't they have a symbiotic relationship, one not explaining the other, but completing each other. listening: Under Rug Swept, Alanis Morissette 27 July 2002 5:12 pm. This morning I bought a really nice coffeetable from my landlords. They were having a yardsale down in the front of the house, and I saw it as I was on my way out to do some errands. After some brief consideration, snapped it up. For twenty bucks, you can't go wrong. Now I have to decide whether to strip the stain off, or just sand and paint it. There's two glass inserts in the middle that I'm going to get rid of and inlay some glass tile instead. I love projects, and in the new house, I have a whole basement to pursue them. Speaking of projects, you all know how much I love Trading Spaces. Well, I've actually been thinking of getting my interior design certificate after I finish my BFA. Temple has a program that consists of five classes, and it looks like it would cost me under $1000 to get it. A co-worker of mine, Cindy, gave me the idea. I had assumed it was a two-year associate's degree, which would be a little much (financially) for me to handle all by myself, but a little certification seems doable. It could be fun, and I could use my fine art background to its best advantage. Working in the tile showroom this last year has really given me an insight into the whole interior design business. I like what I see. Just waiting now for John to show up. He's coming here for the weekend, and tonight we are going to the restaurant to end all restaurants. I had to call on Tuesday in order to get reservations in time, that's how uberhip and trendy this place is. And tomorrow he's going to Lebanon with me, and I'm going to show him around my exciting hometown. listening: NPR 29 July 2002 10:30 pm Man, I just spent the entire day packing and moving and sweating off five pounds in the 98 degree heat. I sure know how to pick days to move, don't I? Last time it was like 10 degrees with a strong wind. Mom and I went out to TGI Friday's for dinner, and as soon as we got back to my nearly empty apartment, I lay down and just passed out. I got up later, and I'm a bit cranky that's it's 10 pm and I can't get Skyy Blue anywhere. Fucking Pennsylvania. I miss Missouri, where you can get malt beverages (not to mention hard liquor) at any little hole in the wall grocery store. Ugh. I can't believe I have to go to work tomorrow.
Anyway, for those parties interested, I had a great weekend with John. We did go to the Melting Pot, and while we were waiting for our table, I noticed the suave-looking managerial-type guy hovering behind hostess' desk looked awfully familiar. I checked him out from across the room, trying to confirm it was who I thought it was, and finally had to find out. Maybe the people from school who read this will know who I'm talking about, but it was Josh Miller. We talked briefly, and he remembered my name and even that I was going to Tyler. It was so weird seeing him like that, because the last time I saw him, four or five years ago, he was just a big goofy kid. Looks like he cleaned up quite nicely. The rest of the weekend went well, and I took John to see the (limited) sights of Lebanon. My mom made enough food for all of us to eat for a month. John got a bad headache (though not from the food, I think), and ended up taking a nap on my bed. I thought it would be weird, him being in the house I grew up in, tooling around my hometown, but it wasn't. It just felt right. 30 July 2002 Tonight's the last night in my apartment here. All that's left are a few pieces of furniture, my bed, laptop and my crappy little tv to keep me company. Almost all my stuff is at the new place. I'm looking forward to moving in, though some of my excitement has been dampened by the fact that one of my roommates has decided to freak out about the room she ended up with, and being a tad immature about it all. Ugh. I promised myself I wouldn't talk about this, but it's annoying me quite a bit. My mom and I were commenting yesterday on the fact that my landlords are now charging $500 a month for this little efficiency apartment. It's a ridiculously exorbitant price for what's here - one large room with ugly pink baseboards and ugly spackling all over the walls, a large closet, a tiny bathroom (by tiny I mean I could rest by head on the sink while sitting on the toilet) with filthy grout and deteriorating vinyl walls, a tiny kitchen that couldn't really be called eat-in. All this in Lansdale, PA, which is 30 to 45 minutes away from anything important. I even thought the $450 I was paying was a little steep, but they've rented it, in any event. Took a shower in my new house today, and there's a massage showerhead. Oh, yessss. listening: Rocksteady, No Doubt << back | index | forward >> |
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