a...my name is allison

W…is for what is this thing called love?

2009-09-14T21:03:00.011-04:00

I whipped my Macbook out on the subway - on the subway, yo - to write this. So you’d better be thankful, Lindsey. (No, I'm just kidding about that. No, not about the subway part. I really did write this on the subway. About blaming Lindsey for my imminent mugging. No, really though, she's right...it really has been too long.) But for cereal now, what IS this thing called love? It’s like…the most wonderful, intangible thing in the world. I liken it to electricity. Intangible, you know? You can’t actually see it. You can’t really touch it. Well, you can, but ten times out of ten that decision ends in regret. But you can create it and you certainly can destroy it. Life is infinitely better because of it and kinda' sucks without it. Wait…can you destroy it? Can you destroy energy? Nerdily inclined friends, feel free to chime in here. Anywhoo…what is this crazy, clear-colored thing called love?

I think I got it. I think I know what love is. Well, at least I know what it feels like - like a pleasurable current of electricity. I can feel it sometimes - like when he covers my ears. When the subway releases its air valves at the end of the line Matt covers my ears with his hands because the hiss is so loud it hurts. See, he's lived up here for long enough to be wise to the noise, ya dig? I had scarcely been to his subway stop before meeting him, so I was unaware of the hissing phenomenon. And, lucky for me, I have only rarely been assaulted by the terrible clamor because he covers my ears every time we're together down there. And I am rarely not with him anymore. That’s love.

That’s only one tiny example, but that’s all your gonna’ get in the way of anecdotes because the rest is for us. Besides, I am humble and grateful enough (shut it.) for what I’ve got that I don’t need to flaunt it. I mean. Who wants to hear from someone who gets flowers every single day? I mean, rill-y. Gah.

Matt gives me flowers every time I see him (see previous instruction). No, I mean it. With very few exceptions, I get a flower every time I see him. Sometimes he picks them on his way home from the train, or buys them from the florist or the market. Sometimes it’s a single flower, sometimes a bunch. One time - for an entire week - it was bouquets! My cat got flowers. My friends get flowers. Love literally flows over from us and onto people around us and they get covered in the sticky sweet romantic goo (tastes like Sarabeth's Strawberry Peach jam) (that's what she said) and then they sometimes get a flower, too. That’s love. Or some form of assault. Potato potato.

So, anyway, I don't portend to really know what love is, but I am sure all my readers by now can agree that I do know what love ain't. And this is a whoooooole helluva lot better than anything they got out thare.

We were huddled together under an umbrella rushing to get to the subway in a pouring rain. An old man ambled slowly toward us a little ways ahead of us in our direct path. I began to shift to walk around him, but right at that moment the old man did a side step, removing himself from our course, and stopped where he stood. As we approached, I could see that his gaze was fixed on us. He put his hand on his chest. As we passed, he smiled an old man smile and sang in a gravel-y, bass-y voice, “MmmmMmm! Ain’t love grand?” Stunned silent, we grinned at each other and walked by. A moment later Matt turned, and over his shoulder he shouted, “Yes! Yes, it is.”

T...is for Trouble

2009-08-20T15:17:00.000-04:00

It's odd...I remember so vividly the tiniest details from our walk home. The pink dry cleaning slip on the sidewalk #39560. The lady putting stuff into the trunk of her red car. Penelope Cruz fluffing her long hair and reaffixing her baseball cap while chatting with Javier Bardem at the corner of Central Park. He smoked a cigarette. The severe slant to the sidewalk along the front wall of the park. The echoing tickticktick of the cicadas somewhere high in the trees. I had no desire to swat away the bugs I suspected were landing on my skin. I hung my head and my shoulders as low as they could hang while still continuing to put one foot in front of the other. And I walked. I let Matt lead me wherever he wanted me to go and just kept putting foot to pavement one at a time, over and over again.

And that is how I survived losing my bestest friend.

Rest in peace, Trouble. It's been the most fulfilling fourteen years and I can't wait to meet you again some day, my beautiful little monster. I miss you already.

H...is for honeymoon

2009-07-08T11:35:00.012-04:00

Apologies for my absence of late, dearest reader (if there is even one of you left. Hello!). You will excuse me for our time apart, though - I know - for I have been honeymooning. The last two months have found me wrapped up in the wonderful, googly, gobbledy, cuddly, peapod part of a fabulous new relationship. I am embroiled. Lambasted. En flambe.

It all started with a magnificent Perfect First Date. As per Melina's comment request, I would love to update you on some of the recent ones...and I will. Patience, my pets. They are most certainly worthy of writing about...so much so that I should start an entire new instructional blog about "How To Have the Perfect Date. Every. Time." But then, I shouldn't be the one writing that. My boyfriend (whom you may eventually meet on here someday, my blog friends, because he too is...wait for it...a blogger!!!), should write that one.

EEERRRRRRRR!!!

Oh...I'm sorry? What's that, you say? Boyfriend??? A BOYFRIEND WHO BLOGS???

Yes. 'Tis true.

a...my name is allison and I am in love.

And it is guuuuud. Take note...

All persons who have found themselves at the start of a promising new love affair have uttered The Words: this one is different. Well, folk, prepare yourself for an entirely new and original statement from this here blogger. You ready? Here goes:

This one is different.

TA-DA!!! Pure genius. I should be published. Really. Anywhoo, this one is different. And here's why. Because he's AWESOME. You ever wish you could have an oatmeal raisin cookie right out of the oven right then and there? For free? With natural vanilla ice cream melting slowly on the side? While getting a massage? Also for free? That's what he's like. He's surprising and delicious and perfect and just exactly what I wished for. And totally, absolutely, 100% free.

I am going to eventually write about some of our dates. It's time this here page had some pep in 'er step, dontcha' think? I mean...ho hum boo boo kitty little Miss Connected to the Universe over here lately has had nothing but deep thoughts. Mind you, I am not poopooing the connectedness thing. That there brought me the most wonderful relationship I've ever had - and I can say that with all honesty after ten whole long weeks! (Okay. Look...my last relationship lasted 5 weeks and went out with a spectacularly boring shebang in the line at Taco Bell. I didn't even get any food, either. So www.zipit.com, m'kay?)

In the meantime, I want to introduce you to the New allison, girlfriend to the cutest curly-headed white boy in all of New York City. And I want to say hello to him, as well, if you don't mind. Ahem. Hi, Mr. C. Long time reader, first time mention. Welcome to my blog.

And gobble gobble, people! Cheese and schmaltz! Wine and roses! Love and kittens!

F...is for first date or P...is for Perfect First Date

2009-05-20T17:14:00.004-04:00

I should be doing work. I should be writing for school. I should be learning new music. I should be doing many many other things right now, but I needed to write this down. While it's still fresh in my mind. Cuz I don't know what it leads to or if it will just be one of those awesome snapshots in time that I can think back upon and smile, but it deserves to be written down.

I feel kinda' bad now because I made it into quite a big deal and made the poor guy completely nervous. We eased into our first date by making plans for us all to go the movies. I am not sure really how loudly we actually made that announcement, because in the end it was just me and him. Which is exactly how we wanted it anyway. And then we decided on a night. Tuesday. It was the one night of the week that I knew I was free. I wouldn't find out until later that he actually had plans that night that he blew off to be with me instead. You may already be able to see where this is going and therefore why I think it's so important to get these thoughts down on something concrete. Because I'm not. On concrete. Not really, anyway, I'm kind of floating above it...looking up at the sunshine and smiling. *spoiler alert* What do you mean, too late? Shut up and listen...this is a good story.

Later, after we'd taken it upon ourselves to decide that no one else would be joining us and which night to go, he turns to me and says "we should go to dinner before." Yes! We should! So, dinner and a movie. This sounds like a date.

We'd known each other for a few months and over the course had become friends. We chatted and flirted until one evening all the walls came tumbling down and we...sort of...found each other. And so we went on a date. A first date. And it goes a little something like this...

We met in Bryant Park. He was waiting for me, looking down at his phone, looking very dapper in his mint green shirt and non-prescription sunglasses. There were a few tentative moments before he confidently swept my hand into his, and we settled in for a stroll through Bryant Park. I was suddenly the goofy ingenue in a Nora Ephron movie. I decided to play my part to the hilt (all the while mocking myself ever so coolly because helloooo) and waved to the Empire State Building winking down at us. We wound our way through the people and the traffic to Times Square, crossing right through the middle of where we New Yorkers normally dread to go and usually avoid like a plague. We walked up Broadway while talking about Broadway (I just puked a little tiny bit. I know...you did, too) to Columbus Circle, past the fountains and the horse-drawn carriages to (get 'em ready, folks, seat pocket in front of you. There you go) Central Park. We strolled and talked and walked and held hands and laughed and joked. It was a cool, beautiful evening, too. Go ahead, take a knee...I'll wait.

We exit the park at Tavern on the Green - I'd be willing to bet we were both silently wondering if we'd ever have occasion to dine there together - and through the Brownstone lined streets of the Upper West Side we walk. Plenty of time to kill before the movie, but not enough time for a meal, so we go to one of my favorite places for a drink. And wouldn't you know it, karma ladybugs had just made available a table for two right next to the window. I swear to god, I am not making any of this up. This really happened. *floating*

The thing with the guy is? Conversation never stops. Ever. And it's always smart...and almost always funny. (Give me some credit people. I really do try, and I really like this guy, and he might actually read this, so could you please help me out a little here? Thank you.) So, BECAUSE we're both so funny (*crickets* thank you) we're usually laughing all the time. And kissing. Where we lack in absolutely anything else - Japanese, swordfighting, humor- we MORE than make up for in kissing. Oh. my. god. Chills. Chills, people. So yeah, there's talking and laughing and drinking and kissing and then it's time to go to the movies.

We saw Star Trek in IMAX.

(Stop! Where are you all going? No...wait! I am telling the truth! Don't be like that. You guys stuck with me through the Mexico trip and the Italy thing. Don't give up on me now. I KNOW my life is ridiculously, ethereally fantastic...I fully admit that. But you can't blame me for it. Okay? Okay. Thank you. Better now? You gonna' sit down and let me finish my story? Thank you. Now, where were we...)

Yes, Star Trek in IMAX...(*crickets* cool). In a completely packed theatre, we found a seat at the end of the row - but not like all the way against the wall - and with a handrail in front of us that we used as a footrest to tangled our legs up in. And there was no one on either side of us. Thank yooou, ladybugs. We curled up against each other for the whole movie, he rubbed my arms to keep them warm. Movie great. IMAX fun. So far, we're like 10 for 10.

And now we're hungry, so he gives me his coat (yes yes yes...yes, seriously) and we head the rest of the way uptown to my neighborhood and stop at my favorite pizza place which is yay! still open. Grab some slices, head home. We not watched tv on the couch and ate our pizza and talked and laughed and laughed and kissed and laughed and talked and...

I am not going to go any further because you guys are nosy and tried to leave earlier, so I am cutting you off there. I would just like to say that it was. the. perfect. first. date. Like, ever.

Meg Ryan, eat your heart out.

O...is for the Other Woman

2009-03-27T15:33:00.003-04:00

When in the hell did I become the Other Woman? How did this happen?

AND WHY AM I ENJOYING IT SO MUCH?

Yes, yes...I made a new little friend. And yes, my new little friend had a little girlfriend. And yes, yes...I knew about it. And yes, yes, YES...I did it anyway.

And I don't regret it. I have spent SO much time worrying about my karma that I may have missed out on some really fun earth-bound adventures. I am a good person. My karmic footprint has GOT to be positive for the sheer fact that I work so hard at it. And I'm realizing, after some reflection, that I can not be responsible for other people's karma. If some dude is gonna' step out on his woman, that is his cross to bear. I never want to cause someone pain--but I also can't live my life for other people.

Now I find myself embroiled in this phenomenon where most of the guys I connect with are in a relationship. And I don't care. It happens. It happened to me. It hurt like hell, but it happened.

When it happened to me - when I encountered the Other Woman in my relationship - I was defiant and betrayed. "I would never do that!" I screamed. Wah wah boo kitty. You know what? I have done it. I lied. I have done it and I just did it and I will probably do it again. Everyone does it. It happens. I am not so special that I could prevent it from happening to me. Because look...now I, High and Mighty MaryLou McGee, have done it, too.

Maybe that is why I am enjoying this. Maybe that is why I am able to tuck my conscience away. Maybe being hurt by infidelity is giving me a sense of entitlement. Maybe it's not as bad as I've always thought.

I'll tell you what...this has forever altered my view of - and my desire for - a relationship. I'm having a very difficult time believing that anyone is truly faithful. I don't know if I really even WANT to be in a relationship or get married when it seems inevitable our monogamy will fail. But I also find that I am re-examining how important fidelity really is. Letting go of some of my longest and most-firmly held beliefs about relationships is disappointing, but also liberating in a way. I'm not gonna' choose to be the Other Woman...but fuck all if I'm not gonna' enjoy it if I am.

B...is for balance

2009-02-10T16:40:00.002-05:00

I feel like I am walking a fence. A very thin fence high off the ground. And when I get even slightly off balance, it is a sudden and dramatic fall. Sometimes I fall on the side where the grass is plush and green. (HA...isn't that always the other side?) And sometimes I fall on the side with the razor wire. Just depends on what knocked me off balance in the first place which side I land on, I suppose.

The most important thing is that when I do fall off, I can get myself right back up there again and keep baby steppin' my way along the fence. Or I turn a corner and walk a new fence. That fence might have a super awesome fun ball pit on the one side and a icky smelly pig pen full of slop on the other. Like I said, it all depends on the circumstances.

This is one of my crazy ridiculous metaphors of which I am so very fond. What I am talking about, I believe, is my karma. I feel so utterly balanced in my life that I feel like my karma is instantaneous. No...really. Truly it is. I am experiencing the phenomenon of thinking something into reality.

And its not "coincidence". It happens too often and too clearly to be coincidence. I am speaking directly to the Universe. We even tested the theory with a little Price is Right Wii wager the other night. My friends handed me the remote and told me to spin the big wheel and land on $1.00. So I did. For the third time that night. No one could quite believe when it happened that it had actually happened. Neither could I. But then I stopped being surprised and hopped back up on the fence.

It's kind of intimidating, having a direct convo with Big Blue. But it's also quite astonishing. I am finding moments of grace, here and there, now and then. When I say something or think something and it instantaneously happens, I am no longer shocked. But I always wish I had been thinking bigger. I try as often as I can to think of a better life - a better world. I ask for what I want - I say it right out loud. And quite often I get what I ask for - for better or worse, I always get what I ask for.

The most amazing phenomenon is what I see happening around me. People have begun to notice. I am changed - in a way. I am still the same person I've always been...but I feel an aura about me now. Sometimes I am even able to project the energy. Those who feel it want to be around me and absorb some of it. It's amazing because suddenly people believe. Suddenly I believe. I don't know what they believe in...I don't even know what I believe in...but we all believe that something is happening. People have gathered outside the fence.

So my challenge is to maintain my balance. To stay above it all. To move along. To give those around me a reason to look up. I want to stay on this fence because I have a feeling that someday it will lead me to the gate. And hopefully when I get there it will open for me.

M...is for magic

2009-01-16T12:53:00.006-05:00

I have magical powers. I do. I have always known my entire life that I was special...that I had powers. I just didn't know how that power would manifest itself. Ever since I was little, I have had dreams that I could fly, so I thought for sure that would be it. Invisibility? Superstrength? Maybe I need to become a vampire for my latent gift to be fully exposed.

Or maybe not. I think I may have discovered what it is.

I have magical powers. I do. I manifest chocolate. Dessert, really...any kind you want. I am strangely serious about this.

For my birthday, my friends introduced my taste buds to the wonder that is Ferrero Rocher. For Christmas, everyone who gave me a gift also threw in a box of chocolate. La Maison du chocolat, Godiva, Hershey's Pot of Gold... And then the week back to work, my boss gave me a box of Godiva truffles. He got them for a gift and didn't want them, so...hi to me. I came into work this week to find a cheesecake on my desk chair. Yes. A cheeeeese-CAKE. I put it away, went into the other room, came back, and there was a bag of CHOCOLATE COVERED OREOS and BROWNIES in their place. It was like...MAGIC!!!

See? Magic. Clearly I needed to crank up the creativity level on my childhood imagination. This is better than flying. K...gonna go practice conjuring now. I'm thinking tiramisu...

F...is for eff off 2008 - or - W...is for What I've Learned

2008-12-23T09:35:00.011-05:00

What I've learned in 2008 is that I am human after all. Yes, really.

I've spent the holidays this year in New York City pretty much by myself doing...well, not much of anything. Vegging, if you will. Being still. Laying like broccoli. Reading Twilight (little yaaaaaay). It's what I needed. To rest. To recover. To restore. I'm not quite all the way recharged yet, but 2009 is striding up the front walk confidently, so I must quickly poise myself, mid-stride down the staircase acting mildly surprised when he arrives. 2009. When 2009 arrives. Did you not get that?

2008 was a sonofabitch. I hope that 2009 rolls up its sleeves intimidatingly and knocks it out with one swift punch. I was in a battered relationship with 2008. It kicked my ass. I had my heart broken twice, lost my job in the world's most public forum ever, (lost a lot of money, too), ceilings caved in, sick family, sick city...

What I've learned is that I am very resilient.

I healed a broken heart in the rays of the Costa Rican sun and made some amazing discoveries at the same time. I changed my life's direction and that's when I found my path. I got into grad school. I connected and reconnected with people all over the world. I realized that I have ten lifetime's worth of love in my life. And gained even more! I got a new neice and a new kitty. I made new friends and had so many awesome experiences, I don't even know where to begin. I flew! I sang at Carnegie Hall! I stood in the middle of Times Square shouting "Yes we can!" actually believing what I was saying with all my heart.

I recently finished my first semester of grad school (oh yeah, I'm in grad school. Did I mention?). Getting my Masters in Social Work, I am. And scurvy, apparently. Or I'm also becoming a jedi master. Anywho, grad school is boring and stimulating and interesting and confusing all at the same time...and it is messing. with. my. head. One of the first classes that I took was Human Behavior I. Freud and Mahler and attachment and theory...blah thinkity blah blah blah...

What I've learned in grad school is that there is such a thing as a stupid question.

...and that I'm a pretty messed up girl with a pretty fucked up brain.

I've spent my whole life waiting for my prince to come. I've believed in love. I've believed the movies. I've believed Hallmark Cards and love songs. My blood is singing! I am a girl who was made to be kissed upon the eyes! But I've also known, deep down, in the recesses of my 10-year old little girl brain, that every story has a twist. And a sad ending. There really is no happily ever after. In my story, he leaves. He's goes. He's gone.

But one of the things that I'm beginning to learn is that I can be fixed!!! I can change the story! And I want to be fixed. Dear lord do I want the story to end differently next time. I want to survive - nay, not just survive. I don't want to just end up floating on the open ocean on my homemade coconut raft with raggedy ol' Wilson. No. I want to thrive in a relationship. Which leads me to another thing that I have learned...

What I've learned is that I suck at relationships.

Relationships are nothing like the movies, except for that one second when you think "wow, this is just like a movie." But then if you're thinking it's like a movie, then surely it isn't because people in the movies don't think they're in a movie...they're just deliriously happy. Unless we're talking about Saving Private Ryan. Now that is a decent recounting of my year. I was the sergeant laying on the beach in pieces after being blown off my little raft in TWO count 'em TWO big relationship battles. Bu bye, Wilson. He didn't stand a chance.

Hey...look at me! Little Miss Smarty Farty Pants admitting that she sucks at relationships. *sigh* Yes. I realize that I sabotage them so that my sad, twisted little story can play out the way it is supposed to. He leaves. However it needs to happen. As long as the ending is the same. Hi. I'm allison and I am disfunctional. Pull pin & throw. Cut! But no more. I will learn and grad school educate my way out of this jeremiad. Once and for all.

What I've learned this year is that "I ain't never seen a bird fly so high he didn't have to come down some time." That's a quote from a 2008 highlight, "True Blood". Ooh - which leads me to another quick thing I've discovered this year...

What I've learned is that vampires are ridiculously sexy after all and I would like to be one.

Anyway, back to the quote. It's about duality. For every up, there's a down. For every smile, there's a frown. For every happy child, there's a scary clown. Okay, that one was mean, but you get my drift. Earlier this year, I had to hold myself together when everything fell apart. I was like Bella, literally holding myself at times to keep it all in. I couldn't believe when it didn't stop after a while, so I went searching for a way to make it stop. I went searching for some truths.

I discovered Buddha. Or God. Or that thing that makes me feel connected. Actually, I'm still searching, but at least I got on the path. I discovered balance. And duality. I am discovering the Here and Now. I am discovering the ridiculous pile of fortune that I have been sitting on top of the whole time and just never realized it until my eyes were finally cast down. I've learned humility and grace. I've learned GRATITUDE. I've learned love.

What I've learned is love.

I suppose that was the toughest lesson of all, but the most worthwhile.

I welcome 2009 with all that I've learned and with all the love I've got. Happy New Year to all.

And 2008 can still eff off. ;-)

S...is for squished

2008-10-28T14:35:00.002-04:00

This is a story about delusion. About fantasy. About living in a dream and having to wake up to face reality. This story is pathetic. Oh, what's that? You've read this one? You've been reading my blog for a while, huh? Shut up and listen...this is a new one.

The year is 2002. Picture this...

A warm, balmy evening in Tuscany. A terracota-tiled veranda overlooking the olive trees. The sound of rifle shots far in the distance. (Um...I have no real idea why. There just were.)

There is a table and two chairs. A light breeze. A bottle of Amaretto purchased in town after a delicious italian dinner at the little place atop the windy stairs. No one at the restaurant spoke English, so you really had to immerse yourself in the experience and parli italiano.

As you walk out onto the veranda together, you realize that this could be it! This is the moment! This. is. it. The night and the italian and the wine and the photos and the olives and the moon and the veranda and you are walking out there right now...

Two glasses clinking. Leaning back in chairs. Contentedly. Nervously. Sipping. The amaretto is warm and sweet. Smiling. Looking out over the trees and the vineyard. Trying to remember the phase of the moon on this night for surely it will have to be part of the story you will soon tell all your friends.

He's leaning forward. He is sitting up in his chair. Should I say something? Should I put my drink down, at least? Ohmygod. He's turning in his seat. He's leaning forward. There's a *pop* and then a *squoosh*. And then...and then he's looking at the ground...and he's...shouting??

"Awwwwwww, MAN!" He's picking up his foot with his hand and we are examining the bottom of his shoe and the trail of goo connecting it to a blob on the terracota tile.

"Eeewww! Gross!" That was me.

Wait. Waitaminute. What just happened??

"I stepped on a snail! Where did that come from? That is so weird! Aw man! I squished it!" he says.

What just happened? SERIOUSLY. WHAT JUST HAPPENED???

Oh, wait...let me retrace.

You two dated for 2 years and splurged on a trip to Italy. You got your passports photos taken together. You read four guide books. You made and stuck little english/italian translation stickers all over every surface of your apartment to learn the language by osmosis. Well, so that he would learn by osmosis. You went to the public library and checked out Italian language tapes levels 1 and 2 and listened to those suckers all the way up until you debarked the plane in Rome. You toured and ate and drank and took the train from Rome to Florence. You bought a watercolor of the bridge that you had your photo taken on together. You will later use that photo as your Christmas postcard. Oh yes, you most surely will. You all can go ahead and scoff now.

What happened was...

You let yourself believe that you would be proposed to by the man you loved on a warm fall night on a veranda overlooking a vineyard in Tuscany but instead you squished a snail.

*************************
Now, this is a goofy anecdote - and a true story - and I allow you to laugh at my follies. But please also note that this is the story of my life. I am that snail. My heart is that snail. And it keeps getting squished. It happened to me again - another failed relationship - just a short time ago. The scene is set, everything is perfect, the moment is here, and then *pop* *squoosh*. No mas.

What is the moral here? What terrible metaphor can I devise to describe why this keeps happening to me?

Do I move too slowly, like a snail? HELL no, that is NOT the problem. If anything, the contrary.

Am I slimy? No. I have Normal to Dry skin, actually.

Do I wear a hard outer shell that prevents people from getting near my soft squishy center? Debateable, but doubtful.

Aw crap, perhaps I have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Time sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a snail; but a man is happiest when he does not even notice whether it passes swiftly or slowly." -Ivan Turgenev

...we'll go with that.

S...is for space invaders

2008-10-08T15:40:00.002-04:00

I live in New York City, so space is literally always an issue. Basically, there is none. Storage space, parking space, driving, walking, thinking space...all rare and all at a premium. Me? I'm a tall girl, so I like space.

I will tell you one thing I do in the city to give myself some breathing space. I go to the Park. Central Park, mostly, but any park will do. My cubicle at work is small. The subway is packed body-to-body-to-body (when it bothers to run...another issue entirely its own). The sidewalks are crowded with peoplepeoplepeople. The buildings are close and high. And everything is moving fast.

In this city, there is no space...except in the Park. I go to Central Park almost every day at lunch. Sometimes I take my lunch, sometimes I just lay in the grass and sleep off the night before, sometimes I just sit on a rock in the sun like a lizard and bake. Even though it too is often crowded with people, I can walk one block into the park and lose the noise of the city. I like to wander off the paths and get grass between my toes. You can look up and see trees and blue sky there. It's my happy place.

But now it's getting cold, so my lunches in the park are growing scarce. And I feel the walls of this city closing in on me again.

A friend of mine is vacating this godforsaken mousetrap in a few months and heading back to the Midwest. We spent the day perusing craigslist apartments for her - $590 a month for 2-bedrooms, laundry, and a garage. In the pictures, there are patios. Grass. Shutters. Built-ins. CARPET. Oh my god, is that a dishwasher? And around the edges of each of the houses you can see sky.

Times like these - when the night falls heavy and fast and life squeezes all remaining space out of this city - even I might consider Ohio.

Hell, at least I know my vote would make a difference.

S...is for searching

2008-08-19T21:00:00.000-04:00

I finally get it. “Love, actually IS all around.”

A few months back, I thought my heart had broken. Oh, I knew that I would love again and that I would champion on and that I would be just fine. Fine. But MAN that hurt. I mean…wow. Physical pain. And I couldn’t control it. What the fuck was up with that? That was not acceptable. That needed to stop. I started to look around for a way to make it stop. I searched. I am still searching. I read and read and practiced and tried and believed and breathed and let go.

Now I see. I’ve had it…all along. It just took a flashlight in the dark to bring it to light.

I was hunting for the elusive Unread Message in my Inbox (that stupid little “1” sitting there taunting me was starting to drive me crazy. It kept tricking me into thinking I had a new text when it’s really just an old one buried in there somewhere that I’d probably already read and just didn’t open. Order must be restored), so I was reading my text messages in reverse – starting with the most recent ones first and scrolling backward. I immediately started laughing at the hilariousness of some of my dorky friends and smiling at the memory of getting a particular text. It wasn’t just what the message said, but the memory of where I was and how I felt when I read it. And it started to work on my memory like a slideshow. Like scenes from a movie. All the big things that are a haze to me now. All the fun little memories along the way. All the important and romantic first texts, when it was still a phone number and not a name. The first time he told you that he missed you. The heartwarming text from a faraway friend immediately after parting ways. She could probably still see me when she sent it. The hellos. The goodbyes.

I noticed that reading was having an effect on my heart rate a little. I started getting emotional. I was taken aback by the amount of sincerity and concern in each message…and there were messages from SO many different people. And at different times. There were so many that were just dripping with love. Offers of support. Encouragement. Quotes. Jokes. And love. Oh my god so much it makes me cry. I am so loved. Every minute of every day, these people love me. And they tell me when I need to hear it. They are there for me the minute I need them to be. And they love fiercely. And the sheer number of them is astonishing. My family. My friends. Old loves. New loves.

I can say that once I believed that there was one love for each person. I have been searching for that person my entire life. I am still searching. A lifelong pursuit of love. I certainly welcome more…and when he’s ready he can just come along and find me. But in the meantime, I’ve found it. In the form of a couple handfuls of really amazing people. I’ve found love…and in the infamous words of the eternal Steve Perry “it was with me all the while.”

W...is for woo

2008-08-07T17:12:00.002-04:00

I have been wooed. Many times in my life. It happens during that lovey-dovey, butterfly-ey, getting-to-know-you part at the beginning of a relationship. I happen to like being wooed. A lot. Too much. I am a complete sucker.

I have been very very lucky in love. Been there, done that many times over and have come away relatively unscathed with mostly more good memories than bad. Memories and memorabilia. I have boxes and boxes of photos. I have dog tags and promise rings and ridiculously oversized sweatshirts.

Let me tell you about one memorabilia collection I have. Ticket stubs. Yes, ticket stubs.

Apparently when courting, I put out some vibe that makes men want to take me to the theatre or to concerts. And I get it. You get dressed up. You go out to a fancy dinner. You get to impress your lady with how well you pay attention to what she likes when you surprise her with tickets to see Alice Ripley in concert. You didn't even know who that was before you bought the tickets...and to be honest, you still don't. But the "eek!" of delight and the intense lip lock you get from it is well worth 2 hours of obscure musical theatre tunes. (What??? Yeah, you had noooo idea, didya'?) One boyfriend in college got us tickets to see Mandy Patinkin in concert. His initial reaction when the show began..."Who is that guy and where is Mandy?" Obstructed view tickets to Miss Saigon at the run-down theatre house in downtown Detroit. Jazz at Lincoln Center. NY Philharmonic at Christmastime. I practically toured the country with DMB and one boyfriend. Solo piano concert on Valentine's Day. We met the artist afterward and got autographs.

I will also give a little shoutout to sporting events, too. My football-player high school boyfriend got us tickets to an NFL game for my birthday. We broke up before the game, so I took my sister. I get more than my share of baseball tickets thrown my way. I like my 'dogs with ketchup.

Dinners. Trips. One boyfriend had a CD that he knew I wanted delivered to my apartment that we then made sweet sweet love to for like 12 hours.

I'm a COMPLETE sucker.

So it is no wonder, then, that I have been wooed and won and have loved and been loved many times in my life. It is curious, however, that none of those relationships ever went any further. Like I said, I've come away relatively unscathed. No divorces to speak of, no alimony or custody agreements. There have been amicable divisions of property (mainly books and CD's...though there was a tough split of a bedroom furniture set that one time). I don't know whose fault it is that these things never last for me. I sure would like to figure that out, though.

In the end, the wooing always stops. And then eventually so does the relationship. Perhaps it's me...I get greedy and needy and walk away. (No. That is not it. I can say with certainty that is not it.) Perhaps the wooing stops because he gets bored and doesn't care anymore. (Getting warmer.) I know that it is not just the wooing that keeps a relationship going. Matter of fact, I could totally live with it if there was none to begin with. I almost feel like it would be better that way. No smoke screen. No illusions. No pedastal.

Although I do love that part...and it is one of the best perks of being in a relationship. I suppose, for me, it would be perfect to fall madly in love and hope that when the lights come up and the smoke has cleared, there is someone still standing there.

H...is for home

2008-07-22T17:45:00.002-04:00

Most people have a place they call "home". It's where they go for holidays, weekend, weddings. "Oh, I'm going home this weekend for my cousin's wedding." You know. Me? I don't really have that. Those who know me know that I am something of a nomad. I was raised in one place, moved to another, to another, to another, and now I am where I'm at for an indeterminate amount of time by sheer serendipity.

I don't question or regret it for a second.

But, I don't really have a place to call home. Unless you consider my mom's house. When her kids were grown and gone, my mom said "I am going to live in the Rocky Mountains." And so she did. In a house at about 10,000 feet above sea level, she has made our family a new home in the manner which she has always wanted it to be. And I love it. It's like a retreat. Like a refuge or a camp or a retreat. I come here to rest and heal.

True, I miss my childhood home. The nasty mustard yellow colored carpet. The unfinished master bedroom that served for our entire childhoods as "The Playroom." The squeaky spot on the stairs I was so adept at avoiding in my formative, sneakative teenage years. No air conditioning. My whole entire life. We used box fans and slept on the floor. I saw that house during a nostalgia drive-by a few years ago and it looked so tiny. So so so small compared to when I was growing within it. It was someone else's house, too, with someone else's cars in the driveway and someone else's toys on the lawn. That was weird. But I was cool with it. And I wished that family all the love I got on that same plot of land.

So now that that home is no longer, I wander. And when I need to, I come here. To my mom's retreat on the mountain. And like I said, I love it. I love that it is so high, you could see forever if human eyes were built to such capacity. I love that the air is 15 degrees cooler up here than at the base. I love the aspen leaves blowing on the trees like big pieces of confetti. They make this hushing sound. I love the hummingbirds that battle and talk and hover right at your shoulder. I love watching clouds billow and build far far away and making them into turtles eating chicken wings. (What??? That is what is looked like!)

I love the little glass table with the marble bear figurine that my nephew makes roar at people when he comes here to visit. I love that you can see the airport. (It's 70 miles away.) I love that there is always toilet paper. Always. I love the different scented soaps in every bathroom. I love eating popcorn for dinner because that is what I wanted. I love that my mom told me she left sheets on my bed and I asked her why. "Because there's no sheets on it." Like I expected her to make the bed for me. Like she's my cleaning lady. (Which, if you knew my mom, in a former life she must have been a cleaning lady because dust? wHAT?) I love watching movies with her so way past her normal bed time but she tried real hard to stay awake just because I am here. And I really don't think of her as a cleaning lady. I hope she never has to do another day of hard labor for the rest of her life.

I love my mom's house because the air is fresh and clear (and thin). I love my mom's house for the back deck that looks out onto forever and that we can sit there for hours with glasses of wine and catch up on every thing. I love my mom's house because she is here.

I love my mom's house because whenever I am here...I am home.

T...is for trust

2008-07-19T00:00:00.001-04:00

When you are repelling down a waterfall in a tropical rainforest (whaaa? I know, right??? I giggle even being able to type that. So surreal. That picture over there? That little person at the very top of the waterfall? That's me.) you put your butt in the seat, lean back on that harness, and just trust.

You say to the harness, the guys who tied it, the ropes, the rock, the water, you say "I trust you." You say to fate and God and the Universe - even if just for these few moments - "I trust you and I know that I am going to be okay."

So when that feeling of comfort settles over you, and you trust that you really are gonna' be okay...that's when the real fun begins. There is no fear. There is only fun and adventure.

How can I get THAT all the time so that I can feel that way about my life? Just sit in the seat of my life and trust that I'm gonna' be okay. To hell with fear. To hell with...whatever. I want the adventure.

V...is for vision

2008-07-09T22:17:00.001-04:00

Some time last year, I was focusing on my practice of The Secret (wonh wonh wonh wonh - to how many people did I just totally go Charlie Brown's teacher? Stick with me here, there is a point) to make some shit happen in my life. I know what I want. Not reeeal sure how to get it, but I'm working on it, and I'm pretty solid on what it looks like.

One of the suggestions from The Secret is to make a vision board with pictures of all the things you are asking the Universe for. I didn't exactly go to the drug store for poster board and water colors to decorate a tricked out glittery poster for my cubicle (though that does bring back some very fond late-night, due-the-next-day school project memories). Instead I scoured Google images for the perfect pictures of all the things I want for every aspect of my life - from relationship to career. Just like 4th grade - but without the early morning deadline - I never did anything with those images except to save them on my hard drive. I sought them out, saved them, and left them to gather cyber dust. Until today. Today I unveil one of those images as a vision manifesting into reality.

I auditioned for and was accepted into a choir in New York City. My first concert with this choir is November 3rd...

...at Carnegie Hall.

"Follow your bliss." - Joseph Campbell

G...is for gone

2008-06-29T23:32:00.002-04:00

He's gone.
and all I can think now
is that he wasn't the one
I'm supposed to be with.
if he was
he'd be with me now
but he's not.
he's with someone else
or with some others
he's not with me.
and when you find the person
you're supposed to be with
you are.
and you don't let them go.
you're never supposed to let them go.
so he must not
be the one
I'm supposed to be with.

Because he's gone.

enough now...enough.

C...is for cooling off some more

2008-06-11T01:46:00.001-04:00

It is beginning to cool off outside. And in here, too.

I still stand by my post from last night. I am sick of guys behaving like douchebags. But I also stand by my belief that there are good guys in the world too.

Halfway through our dance class tonight, my friend got a text. It was from her husband and it said "big thunderstorms coming so come straight home after class." Awwwww. Right?

Way to show up for the good guys, husband. Sincerely. Yes, women certainly can take care of themselves. We do it every day. But it is so nice to know that someone cares what happens to you...that someone is always there for you. That is very, very cool.

C...is for cooling off

2008-06-09T22:48:00.004-04:00

It is 95 degrees outside, yo, and I need to cool off...so I'm gonna' vent.

I was walking down 57th Street past a group of men in shirtsleeves. One leaned to his buddy as I passed and said "Aw man...I wish I wasn't married."

You know what, buddy? So does your wife.

Fuck you asshole. Sure, you're on a business trip and out with your buddies and a busty blonde in heels walks by and you wish you could take back your vows so you can take me back to your hotel room instead. What did you think I would say if that had been a real proposition? "Ooh yeah, sales guy from the Midwest. That's awesome. Let's go have wild crazy handcuffed lubed up sweaty sex. I'll leave my heels on and you just sit there like a bad little boy and humiliate yourself...your wife...and probably your kids."

Once, the night before the wedding of one of my best friends, I overheard one of the groomsmen say "Alright, men...let's go out and cheat on our wives."

There was a time not so long ago when I said boo to marriage. Then I met my boyfriend and changed my mind. I wanted to get married to him. Now I am single again and find myself right back where I started. And I have a question...

What the fuck is wrong with you guys???

Who the hell do you think you are? I don't want to hear any any lame ass excuses about DNA hunting-and-gathering bullshit. We've caught up to you. Women are every bit as capable now as you of taking care of ourselves and our families. So evolve already. We are.

I know there are nice guys out there. But the only people who really know that are their wives or their gay lovers. Even homless dudes - who may mean to be complimentary but still manage to come off as sleazy - can't see past a woman's legs. Maybe it's just their vantage point, but still.

So if there are nice guys out there...stand up. Show yourselves. Tell your buddies to fuck off or challenge them to say that shit IN FRONT of their wives. Don't let the assholes win. Because they sully the name of all your species.

And if you are an asshole...grow the eff up already. Stop trying to be cool.

Trust me. It's not working.

I...is for inspiration

2008-05-18T16:49:00.003-04:00

Last night I saw the summer concert of the Riverside Choral Society to see if it is something I want to audition for this summer. And I do. Oh em gee. The moment the music started, I got chills up and down my entire body. Music gets inside me - it fills me up. I felt like I was listening to their souls singing. I hope I get the chance to be a part of it.

There are so many dance shows on tv right now, and I get addicted to watching them. I am in awe of how these people put themselves out there and leave it ALL on the stage. I am taking a hip hop dance class right now and I totally suck, but it feels so good.

I saw a play on Broadway a few months ago and was amazed by how the actors bared their souls on stage. The material was highly charged and very emotional and I believed every. second. of it. I couldn't believe that they could give SO much of themselves eight shows a week. They were rewarded with 7 Tony nominations, so I was not the only one who recognized their brevity. It makes me miss letting-go like that, and it also makes me want to see more theatre.

I love and respect artists who give of themselves. For their passion, their dedication, their effort, and mostly for their inspiration.

T...is for transformation, parte dos

2008-05-15T15:49:00.009-04:00

and...

and... and, most importantly...

T...is for transformation

2008-05-03T15:11:00.010-04:00

I don't know the word for that en español, but whatever it is, that is what is taking place.

The alternate title for this post is "H...is for how allison got her groove back", as you shall see...

I went to Costa Rica. I went by myself for a week. Did you hear that? I went by myself. Me. I booked my trip through a company called Cross Cultural Solutions because I really needed a vacation, and they just happened to have a group leaving for Costa Rica, like, 3 weeks later. And it just happened to be 4-20. Heh. And I just happened to have the money. Woops. Looks like I'm goin' to Costa Rica. I googled "volunteer vacations" and found this company. That is all she wrote.

See those kids up there? See me with them? See how happy and excited we are? We just met, but see how happy we are to meet each other?

This is what I am doing with my life.

Yay. Finally!!! Right???

I DID NOT want to come back. Ugh...to all the drama and all the issues. I did not want to come back. There? I had a purpose. There? I had a plan. THERE? I was needed. Have you ever felt what it feels like to change the world? Even one tiny little inch? Even just for one second? I hope you do. Because it is amazing. It feels wonderful. And it is addictive.

This is what I am doing with my life.

Yay!!

I came out of the subway just the other day and passed by a street vendor selling fresh fruit juice. I stopped because he had a big container of fresh pinapple that looked so delectible that it literally stopped me in my tracks and made me think of my week in Costa Rica. It was then that I suddenly realized - coming out of the subway and into an utterly latin american neighborhood and culture - I am exactly where I want to be.

See...I want to be in Costa Rica. I want to help and teach and learn and practice spanish and eat the food and meet the people and... For now, I guess I can do ALL of that right here. Right where I live. Right now. Just steps away from where I live is a very similar culture that I find myself alive when immersed in. Now.

I am finally figuring out how to be happy right where I am. Right now. Even if it's just for this moment. I am finding my path.

Yay.

F...is for fight or flight

2008-04-20T13:13:00.002-04:00

I fought as hard as I could for my relationship. I would have kept fighting, if I thought I could win. Now I am fighting as hard as I can to get my life back.

WHEN THE FUCK IS SOMEONE GOING TO FIGHT FOR ME?

I am going back to my corner. No...screw that. I'm throwing in the towel. I can't fight anymore...I am thoroughly beaten.

I am sitting on a flight instead on my way to Costa Rica for a much needed break. In the battle of fight or flight, the instinct to fly has won.

R...is for road

2008-04-12T16:11:00.015-04:00

So we'd been going down this road together for two years. We passed all the signposts and mile markers along the way. We met, flirted, hooked up, dated, fell in love. We took a couple of detours and one time got a flat tire which held us up all together. We broke up, got back together and got back on the road again.

Heading down the highway of life, he was looking for an exit sign. Just as we were approaching the next major signpost, we crashed.

But just because he jumped the barrier and veered off the road doesn't mean I have to. I still want what I wanted with him. Even though I feel like I've been hit by a Mac truck and left by the side of the road, I still have my dreams.

I want to live with the man that I love. I want to share a home and a life. I want to get a dog. Eventually, I'd like to get engaged. And married. Yes, I want to get married. There. I admit it. I want to be that cool, fun, newlywed couple. Someday I'd like to leave this godforsaken city and go somewhere where we have friends and family and have some kids. Buy shit. Be happy.

(Universe, this is your mission. Go ahead on now. I'll be waiting.)

I don't know how to do it, but I want to get back on that road.

S...is for seconds

2008-03-22T16:03:00.002-04:00

I just watched a woman and a little girl get hit by a car. Actually, I heard it first. And then by the time I turned around, I saw them sitting in the street. The car took off. Someone yelled. They were helped off the street and sat on the corner and they seemed okay. The woman's ankle had already swelled up to the size of a tomato. Thank god they seemed okay.

But still.

Today actually started out as an okay day, too. I got outside and got fresh air and got my body moving again. I felt sunshine on my cold skin.

But then.

It took seconds. One second I heard it and in the one second that it took me to turn around, they were down and the car was gone. In the space of one breath, lives changed.

Life's too short, man. Life is too fucking short.

Q...is for questions

2008-03-17T09:38:00.003-04:00

I woke up around 4-something this morning, suddenly. After orientating myself for a few seconds, I realized this isn't a bad dream. I wish I could just sleep for 3 weeks and when I woke up everything would be right again.

I heard him say to me "I don't think we are going to go any further" and I just got up and left. As quickly as I could. It was all I could do, because my gut reaction was to fight back. Was that the right thing to do?

I have nothing now but questions.

I am doubting all my decisions.

I am wondering why my instinct and my heart were telling me we were going there while his lips ended up telling me something completely opposite. I am wondering how he can say that he doesn't want to lose me but can't see us going forward in the same breath. Has he just been trying to convince himself all this time? Did I hear the truth from him? Does it matter?

I don't want to hear that this is all for the best. I don't want to hear that I should be with someone who won't make me feel this way. I don't want to hear about fish in the sea or all in the timing or good riddance or better off or any of that crap. I know all of that and right now I just don't want to hear it. Because it doesn't make me feel better. It doesn't get me what I want. It doesn't bring him back.

D...is for devastated

2008-03-17T07:53:00.002-04:00

No longer A-okay. I sit here, now, a broken and sad girl...and no longer anyone's girlfriend.

I fought so hard. I did everything I could. I still want it more than anything else in this world. But in the end, when he said he didn't see our relationship going any further, I knew I had lost.

So here I am, defeated. Devastated.

Because I still love him so much.

A...is for a-okay

2007-12-14T10:48:00.001-05:00

So, even though I have no idea what in the hell I am doing with my life, I am doing a-okay.

Just thought I'd let you know that. To wit...

The boyfriend and I are alive & well. He is changing my life. Change is good. Change is hard. But I am madly in love with him, and we are a-okay.

The job is fine. This isn't what I want to be doing with my life. But this is what I need to do right now (plus it's bonus time and I got a raise), so that, too, is a-okay.

The future is totally unclear. I have a fuzzy picture of what I want for my life. But Santa packs are comin', Santa packs are comin' (the commercial? anybody?) and I have asked for what I need. Sooner or later, I know that I will get some clarity. Until then, I am...you can take it from here...

C...is for clarity

2007-12-09T14:21:00.000-05:00

I am just. not. sure.

'Of what?' you ask.

Everything.

All I want for Christmas is some clarity.

E...is for escape

2007-12-03T10:13:00.000-05:00

In my mind I'm goin' to Carolina. Cant you see the sunshine. Cant you just feel the moonshine.

I was standing on the subway as it wound through the underground tunnels, grasping onto a pole, jerking forwards and back, when suddenly I started to get very hot. Like, inside hot. Thermal hot. The kind of hot I imagine menopausal women must feel. So, I removed my scarf. Then my overcoat. Then my suit jacket. I was damn near ready to unbutton my shirt, too, but thought that might be uncouth, it being 8am and all. Now, a 3am subway ride would've been a whole different story. But I digress.

I was stripped down to what little I could and breathing low and deep into my belly, and I still had to ask some kid doing his math homework if he would give up his seat for me so I wouldn't pass out standing there.

(First - let me issue these caveats: No, I am not pregnant. And no, I am not going through menopause.)

The more people that crowded onto that train, the hotter it became. The smaller it became. The longer the time between stops. I close my eyes, continue breathing deeply, listening to the soothing meditative voice on my ipod reminding me that 'I am not my circumstances', feeling my 'center'. And also the woman's handbag jabbing me in the crotch from behind. Ah yes, there's my center. Thank you, ma'am.

(I mean, she had her full dominican ass pressed full up against me and her bag swinging perilously at her side and, subsequently, between my legs. No me gusta.)

With a holy host of others standing round me, still I'm on the dark side of the moon. And it seems like it goes on like this forever. You must forgive me if I'm up and gone to carolina in my mind.

I feel like I need to escape. I sat down at my desk after my tropical subway trek and was up and out of my office within 10 minutes. I walked out of the building and up the street slowly. I didn't bring a coat because I wanted the chill on my skin to remind me that I was buffetted with fresh(ish) outdoor air. I looked up at the sliver of blue sky between the tall buildings and thought to myself that if those big towers weren't there, it could look just like Colorado. Blue skies and wispy clouds low in the sky. This could be Colorado. This could be Carolina. This could be anywhere but here.

But it's not. It's here. It's New York.

Maybe I could be anywhere but here, instead.

Hey, now there's a thought.

There aint no doubt in no one's mind that love's the finest thing around. Whisper something warm and kind. And hey, babe the sky's on fire. I'm dyin'. Aint I goin' to carolina in my mind.

H...is for Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-21T20:37:00.000-05:00

To you...yours...and ours...and mine...and everyone else...and you.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Bring on the turkey.

E...is for Eazy

2007-11-19T23:48:00.000-05:00

Hi, guys! It's me, Trouble.

Can you guys see me? Is this thing on *woooooohhnnnoouun* Ha. That was the feedback sound. Get it? Ahem.

Anyway, it's been a while, huh? Yeah...been pretty busy around here. New apartment, lots of corners and windowsills to inspect. Gotta' check the slidiness of the hardwood, and the sharpness of each corner for sliding/skidding practices. You know, the usual. Anyway...mom is pretty busy at work and with the big guy lately, but I didn't think she'd mind if I got you up-to-date with what is new in our world.

This.

This is what's new.

Pretty goofy, looking, huh? I mean. Sure...he's cute. Even his name is cute-ish. Eazy E. Get it? It's a play on my name, sort of. Plus, he's a street cat...came up on the streets of Harlem for the first 4 weeks of his life. So I guess he's supposed to be like gansta' or whatever. He so is not, but mom thinks it's witty and I can't talk...so...

I don't know. He doesn't look like the sharpest knife in the drawer, you ask me.

I mean, come on. It's not that hard to figure out. You just step on it. Or use it to rub your face against.

Anyway, meet him. We have a lot of work to do. First of all, he's a little squirt, so I bet I'm gonna' need to show him how to jump off things without splatting all over the ground. And how to claw his way up things, though I think he is already pretty good at that. Um...I'll probably show him how to dash and slide - ooh, and I gotta' warn him about those sharp corners in the dining room. Tough to take that turn and not hit the wall, you know?

Hope everyone is good out there - peace and love to all your kitties. I'll tell my mom to come and say hi sometime, too. *pissshhh* yeah, right. hehehehe.

H...is for hug

2007-11-08T22:07:00.000-05:00

Sometimes we are hugged by the Universe. It might feel like a warm, puffy, down-filled Michael Kors jacket that you got for Christmas from one of your best friends, but I am givin' cred instead to the Uni up there...that it really knows what it's doin'.

Boo boo kitty me went out tonight with a friend. I was glad to have the time alone with my girl so I could moan and whine about how unhappy I am with my life. Boo boo kitty. That's me. I picked a place that had free chips and salsa because I am broke and wanted to be able to fill up with free food and then eat for cheap. And then bitch about our lives. Well, I was going to bitch about my life. She could if she wanted, but that was up to her.

BUT then we were oh so rudely interrupted by a tag-along. Uh! Who are YOU crashing my pity party??? And now I can't openly explain about the $20 I have left to my name and thus the meal-cost-restriction ratio and just look strange when I order my appetizer and water and nice to meet you??? Who are you? Uh!

Until the end of the meal when he slapped down cash on the table to pay the entire bill and left with a wink.

'What is he', I marvel. The Pity Party Dinner Fairy? Awesome.

So, then I went out and met my old college friend who I swear I have not seen in 10 years. I can now afford one drink instead of just that water I had planned on ordering. yay. I sat at the bar, ordered a glass of wine, chatted up the regulars, greeted my long-lost pal, had another glass of wine, finished up and asked for the check and *SCCRREEEEEEEECH* "You're all set." And with a dismissive wave of his handsome hand, my hottie bartender absolved us of any financial obligation.

I went out tonight praying to make it through that $20 bill. Plotting to make it through it. Planning what to eat and what not to drink (cuz come on, let's face it...) and where to go so that I could come away knowing I had not exceeded my limit. Somehow I came away with enough cash for Starbucks tomorrow, bitches. Whoooooo!

When I crawl into bed tonight under the fluffy, cloud-like down comforter that one of my best friends gave me for Christmas (I swear to god, I can't make this shit up. Well, I can...but I'm not) that feels like a giant hug, I will know not to thank the blanket. I am being embraced by something much bigger than that.

W...is for What I'm Feeling

2007-11-08T22:02:00.000-05:00

Power. Warmth. Glow. of the Universe.

Memory. Kinship. Love.

Power is the strongest of these things...simply by its nature.
Power of thought. Power of feelings.
Power of love.
That takes its form in fame, praise, approval, compliment.

Was I good? I've forgotten. I may have been. I can't be sure.

Objectivity is a mystery.

So is love.

And they both have power over me.

D...is for dreams

2007-10-26T11:15:00.000-04:00

I have the craziest dreams. I fly. My teeth fall out. I am always late for class on the first day of school and don't know my schedule. I break up with my boyfriend.

That one is the worst. That one is devastating. The teeth one is really awful, and the school one gives me anxiety, but the break-up one makes me cry out in the middle of the night. The time when it happened for real felt like a nightmare. Looking back at that night, it is a little fuzzy and surreal, just like my dreams become as they fade into the past. I sometimes still have the break-up dream, and it still scares the bejeezus out of me.

Which is why it gave me pause when my boyfriend woke up one morning a few weeks ago and told me that he was glad we were still together. He had a dream in which we broke up, but he said it was no big deal...we were just like "Meh...we're done." "Um...okay." "Later." And that was that.

*pause*

Then I had one where we eloped.

*pause* *pause*

How much stock should we put in dreams?

I once believed that my life would be complete when I was a star on Broadway. And that nothing would ever stop me until I got there. I dreamed of a big house, and someone to clean it. Smiling for photogs, walking the red carpet, champagne.

I don't think I need to explain how those dreams haven't exactly come true. Quite the contrary, I am not even pursuing that dream anymore. I still have dreams, sure. They are just different now.

How important are dreams?

Especially when they are ever-changing?

What we think about, we bring about...and all that. But how much responsibility do we take for our imaginations? How are we supposed to feel when the tales of our subconcious alarm us in waking hours? Are we hiding from the truth? And how much power do we give to our desires? What are we supposed to think when we find our passions and ambitions have changed? Are we giving up? Did we fail?

And the big question I have.

Do dreams really come true?

J...is for journey

2007-10-11T18:54:00.000-04:00

Howdy! I am recently back from a journey. Another one to another new place. Whoo! Get out a new thumbtack!

This time, I ventured to the deep south - Texas and Oklahoma. (I don't know if that actually qualifies as the deep south, but it is as far down as I have ever gone in the good ol' US of A that isn't Florida, so I count it. Yay.) It was my birthday, so you know I had to take a trip. And it was Columbus Day, which meant free vacation day from work. And it was OU - Texas weekend, so...um...we went there. To Texas and Oklahoma.

We? Oui. (HA...I said wee wee.) (Really? I just had a birthday?) Anyway, yes...we went on a trip. Boyfriend and I traveled together and spent the weekend in his past. I got to see his family, friends, pictures, videos, and a side of him that was also entirely new to me. He got to go home. It was quite a journey.

It makes me realize now how far he and I have come. (Hating that I am using this abused metaphor right now, but...) Our road has been bumpy, and we've gotten lost and had a couple of wrecks along the way. But we really have travelled a tremendous distance...and in the end, together.

It was a wonderful trip. We both really needed the break. I mean, how much farther from the urban jungle of NY can you get than the wheat (I have been informed that they don't grow corn) fields of Oklahoma? Cows were like, hanging out (grazing? uh...walking around?) in the fields outside of subdivisions. Like...houses. Where people live and there is a 7-Eleven on the corner and stuff. Cows. Were there. Anyway, I also got to make new friends! I really really like his friends. And I think that they liked me (go ahead, do your best Sally Field now, I will wait. I won't do it anymore because I think she is crazy. I mean, did you see that Emmy speech? Whoa, lady...easy on the bubbly in the champagne 'fore the big red carpet, k?Digressing.) And I got to see a side of my man that I had never seen before. And that was just awesome.

And? We ate a deep fried Snickers bar. I shit you not.

(Pausing again to let you whip out your best "Don't Stop Believin"s now, too)...

(Oh, and one more time for that "it's not the destination, it's the journey" crap, too)...

This particular journey has been one hell of a trip.

R...is for right

2007-09-03T01:01:00.000-04:00

Write something. Wriiiiiiite something. Anything. Just write.

You don't have to tell them about breaking up and then getting back together with the boyfriend. They'll be pissed if you don't explain cuz that's some juicy shit. But don't stress yourself out about it. You can always tell them about it later.

You could mention how you have just moved into a new apartment. Again. And how your body kinda looks like one big bruise.

But, you could tell them that after all the security deposits and the UHauls and the backaches, and two excruciatingly long days of shifting and organizing (the clothes in the closet are hung by color and they look like a rainbow) that you are very happy in your new home.

Work? Nah. Astrologyzone.com's new September horoscope? Been there, done that...go check out your own. Seriously. Umm...whatevs. I got something on the screen here. Oh, and I am happy. :-)

R...is for rehab

2007-07-16T21:58:00.000-04:00

If I could upload music to this page so it starts playing when the page loads like my MySpace page, the song that would play would most definitely be "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse.

I said no no no.

See, I am having this internal debate right now. And it alone is a bit disturbing, considering...

The other day I was so glad I was going to drink or already drunk or something, and I thought to myself, 'man, I am glad I still have a chance to party.' I am gonna' party my ass off for as long as I can. Cuz hopefully I will have a reason to sober up for a little while...and hopefully a couple of times, too. But, for now...fuck yeah.

And then I stopped myself from having a drink with dinner tonight because I wanted to go two full days without drinking. I mean, I would've even gone for just one full day, but the fact that it is two is gravy. This, I am proud of? Oh, but don't you ever for a second get to thinkin' that I am sober. I just didn't drink anything today.

*cue theme music* I said no no no.

L...is for luck

2007-07-14T17:57:00.000-04:00

(The original title to this post had already been brought'n.) But I have something to say about it, and so I post.

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

My boyfriend thinks so, too...that I am a very lucky girl. He is right. I am.

But, I ask 'is it luck'? Or is it Karma, maybe? Have I finally hit my numbers? Lord knows I have paid my dues. I have learned my lesson, had my bell rung, walked/run the line/plank/gauntlet (who else wants me to stop now? Okay, me too.) But surely if I am this lucky, then I deserve to be.

And here I show my gratitude to the Universe. I acknowledge this gift of luck and happiness. I declare happily, loudly, strongly through this little blog o' mine, I'm gonna' let it shine...

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

S...is for stranger

2007-04-14T16:20:00.001-04:00

A quick post to show that I am still around. Hi.

The most important things in my life right now are things I can't write about. Well, I probably can, but I am not.

First, my relationship. I don't want to share too much of him because I am selfish and want him all to myself. Just kidding. But really (while there is an ounce of truth to that) it's because he doesn't know about this and I don't want to talk about him unbeknownst. I will say this...I am in love. It's been a year since we met. We celebrated our milestone over homemade jambalaya in my kitchen. We have become a unit. We share our beds, our friends, our time and our hearts with each other. It's not all sunshine and roses...we have our moments. But we are together and we are in love.

That feels really good to say.

Second, I have a very serious career. I never intended to become Serious Corporate Lady...never wanted to. Alas, here I am. And I can't really talk about that either. The last thing I need is to get "dooced", so I will just say this...my job is going really well, but it has caused a complete shift in thinking. I have had to completely refocus and reprioritize. And get up early. Plllppppt. But every other Friday is payday and we can afford to drink our little faces off, so it's all good.

Once I get my shit together and can spread my focus a little more, I will write more. And not just about the same shit all the time.

S...is for surrounded

2007-03-02T15:35:00.000-05:00

I am surrounded. Guns are drawn, the SWAT team is on the roof - a sniper with his scope aimed right in the middle of my chest.

My lovely friend got engaged yesterday. I got the picture of the engagement ring in a text message. They have been dating for two months.

The Ex sent me a text message last night. He got engaged last week. Oh-kay.

The girl who sits behind me at my NEW desk (as of 4pm yesterday afternoon) got engaged last night.

(Why does it always happen in three's?)

I went clothes shopping with my gorgeous model friend and her boyfriend on Sunday. We ended up in the Diamond District (Mecca for all the single ladies in the hiz-ouse) and she tried on rings. Hi…third wheel much? Actually, it was good because her boyfriend had already asked for my assistance in picking out her engagement ring someday. So now at least I know what she wants. And this upcoming weekend? I get to attend a bridal shower.

I had changed my mind about marriage. Why would I want to be a member of a club that my best friend can't get into? He is engaged to his boyfriend, despite the fact that it probably will not be legally binding. They don't care if it is legal, actually. But still.

I had said boo to a wedding and marriage and divorce for the past three years or so. I am doing that whole Independent Woman bit..."I don't need a man to make me whole." It's true. I don't. And I can't imagine having a huge, crazy, expensive, matching-dresses-and-out-of-town-guests kinda wedding. *shudder to think* But still.

I even told my boyfriend that marriage isn't as important to me anymore as having a family. That is true also. But still.

I surrender.

P...is for payday

2007-02-23T10:18:00.000-05:00

Today is payday.

Need I say more?

But it's also payday in so many other ways, too.

I actually enjoy the little victories I achieve every day in my job. 'Yay! I sent the email to the distribution list with the proper attachments!' 'Fax to Japan...successful!' 'Hey! THERE'S the mail room!' Just because it's my second week and I haven't screwed anything up too badly yet...I'm a happy camper.

Oh, and I got paid today.

And it's not just my life that's seeing a big payoff right now, either. For example, my bff got a new job also making real, adult money. And benefits! My sister got a huge promotion! It's payday all around!

And that makes me happy.

That...and the vase of flowers blooming on my otherwise boring desk. (Thanks, mom!) And being in love. Working on the romantic chain gang for years has finally paid off. And friends. And a good night's sleep. And Barack Obama.

To borrow a phrase that I plan to single-handedly resurrect in this decade...

$ CHA-CHING!!! $

I...is for intense

2007-01-11T01:14:00.001-05:00

I haven't decided yet whether to divulge the existence of this blog to my boyfriend yet...but it was time for a new post. So, here we go.

Tonight, the boyfriend and I met for coffee in the midst of our respective evenings. We talked about our days, our tomorrows, our ups and our downs. The conversation came around to a story about the time I taught my toddler-nephew how to pronounce his S's. It was such a warm memory for me that I got excited all over again. I was so happy to be sharing what was such a wonderful experience with the man sitting across from me. He gets it. What that feels like. To make a difference. Telling him that story reminded me of what I am really good at. I bit my slightly quivering lip as I realized that it reminds me now that I had always been good at - and always wanted to be a teacher.

We parted at the subway. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him goodbye. But it wasn't until the tears welled up in my eyes as I walked down the subway platform that I realized I had completely missed that moment. I hadn't really looked at him when I said goodbye...as I stood there in our quick embrace. I was looking right past him. Through him, maybe. But I can't remember looking into his eyes or seeing his face as we said goodbye. I was a million miles away.

Walking to the end of the subway platform was like walking to the gallows. Away from him - finally concious of the fact that it will be days before I see him again and I just missed my last chance until then to really connect with him. My own fault for being so distracted that I missed something - someone - so wonderful right in front of me. He might not have noticed. He may have no clue to my distraction. But I do. I did. So I kept walking, to the spot on the platform that I know lines up with the closest exit at my stop. And the cold reality of my situation seeped right through my heavy winter clothes.

I had to go home to take a test. A proficiency test for a job interview that I have tomorrow. For an interview that I am dreading. For a job that I don't want. At a company that I don't want to work for. Doing something I don't want to be doing.

I want to be a teacher. But I can't, because they don't make enough money. Mired in debt as I am, I just don't think it is practical at this moment in my life. Tonight, I found myself overwhelmingly sad at that fact. I want to make a difference. I want to change a life. Many lives. My own, to start. But, instead, I have to prove I know how to make a sentence bold and squirm my way into another suit and shake another hand with another insincere smile. Another security desk and elevator bank and nameless receptionist who is secretly IM'ing her girlfriend one floor up.

I. can't.

This is a time for reflection. This is a time for change. This is a time to open my eyes and see the wonderful things that are RIGHT in front of me. This is a time to end the distraction. This is a time to MAKE A DIFFERENCE. No more Debbie Downer. No more Sad Sue.

It's time.

G...is for good question

2007-01-06T11:32:00.000-05:00

A comment on recent post has triggered some introspection.

"Congrats! How does he feel about you writing about him on your blog?"
commented by Sex & Moxie

The answer is...I don't know. But I have been thinking about it a lot lately, so this comment is apropos. I don't know how he would feel. I don't think he knows I have a blog. I certainly haven't told him about it. Not for any other reason than it hasn't come up. One could also ask "do you want him to know?" And again, I really don't know.

For one, I have never revealed any personal information about him here. Nor do I plan to. So, in that respect, I have nothing to apologize for...nothing to fear from him reading.

What is of concern to me are the archives. The past. We are learning about each other as we go along...learning to open up and trust each other. He certainly would learn everything he needs to know about my past relationships and state of mind by reading this blog. And I make no apologies for that, either. But I do fear that it may be too much, or too soon.

And. There's that whole "I want a boyfriend" thing that kicked off and has been the subject of this blog since its inception two years ago. I would never want him to think - by reading this blog and that post - that our relationship is the result of some kind of project - that he is just a "goal". He is very special. He has become very important to me. It just-so happens that he fulfilled the wish that I made all those posts ago.

Should I tell him? Should I stop writing about him? Should I stop writing, period?

For now, the answer to all of the above is "No." I write for me...people just happen to read. I don't need to tell him. I'll also not hide it from him. He is a big part of my life now, so inevitably he will come up in my writings. And I am not ready to stop writing yet. So, here we are. Wassup?

And if my boyfriend is reading this...hey handsome. (And this whole post is moot. Ah well.)

O...is for on-time

2006-12-15T20:46:00.000-05:00

This post was originally to be titled "E...is for early", but imagine my surprise to learn that I already HAVE a post with that same title. How is that possible? That would mean that I would actually have to have been early for something before, and I was quite sure that this is the first time. Alas, no.

Brilliant!

The reason this is blog-worthy (apparently, again) is because I am never - I repeat - never early. I am very very rarely ever on-time. So this early stuff bears mentioning. And rewards. Yay! Oh...just me? Boo. Oh well, anyway. I am going out tonight and have had about an hour to kill before I have to leave. I mean, I am ready-to-go. Boots on, purse filled...hell, I even have my lipgloss on. That NEVER happens shy of 145th Street on the A train.

So, I am liking this. Time to chill. Time to blog. Listen to some Christmas music. Know what? I am going to make myself a drink. Relax. So that's what relaxing feels like. Huh. Who knew?

It is plain to see that I am a late person. There are early birds. They plan everything so that they arrive at their destined locale 15 minutes early. This person is never late. Never. Late. This person is barely ever even on time. They usually wait in the Starbucks or the book store across the street while they wait for your late ass to frickin' show up already. Good thing they are always early, cuz they already got tickets for the about-to-be-sold-out movie that would have surely been missed had it been up to you to be there on-time. These are good people. Conscientious. Polite. Weird. I don't get it.

Then there are the on-timer's. They show up exactly where they are meant to be on. the. dot. They dally elsewhere or dash out at the precise instant they need to. These people I find to be lucky. The trains aren't delayed and it is not raining. Their hair never seems to be mussed either. I find these people confusing as well. How? How do they do this? What is this strange magic they possess over time? I would like to learn.

And this is the paragraph that you see little ol' me sitting atop of, waving and grinning guiltily. Late. Always late. Chronically, perpetually, annoyingly late. My window has always been an almost perfect 15 minutes late. Lately, since moving to the boondocks of Manhattan, that has stretched to 20-30 minutes late. The best laid plans and all that...I just can't get out the door in the time that I am alotted. The train is always facocked as I stand there on the platform, bouncing anxiously from heel to heel, trying to remember if these are the ones I can run in. (I have a mental inventory of which of my dress shoes are race-worthy.) I am one of the people who apologizes profusely, and means it sincerely, but just can't seem to get my ass anywhere when I am supposed to be there. I don't want to be on this paragraph anymore. I want to chutes and ladders my way up to the one above. And, with practice and effort, maybe even all the way up there with the Earlies.

I have never missed a show, a curtain, a reservation, or hell...even the opening credits to a movie. But I have learned that I can run faster than a city bus when I need to. This is not good. This is stressful. This is annoying. My boyfriend knows to trick me by telling me to show a half hour before I need to. And then I am a half hour late and I am on-time. So, in a convoluted sort of way, I am an On-timer. He says it is not that bad, and he doesn't mind it that much. But I don't quite want to test his patience this much yet. At least not until he's held my hair while I puke or washed my underwear or we've been through some eternally and embarassingly bonding experiences like that. And on top of showing a bit more respect for his patience, I am SO annoyed at feeling like I constantly have to rush to get everywhere.

So I have made an early (hehehe) New Year's resolution:

I am going to be on-time.

I am using the rest of this month as a ramping-up period. It's gonna' take a gameplan and some serious tactical positioning to make this happen. But, by gum, if I can do anything, I can do this. Got lots of opportunitys to practice this month. Flights, shows, etc. Wish me luck.

Aw shit...now I've been writing so long, I am gonna' be late!!! Ha ha. Just kidding. But, if I leave now...I just might be on-time.

F...is for For the Boys

2006-12-10T11:45:00.000-05:00

Over 14 dozen cookies, 3 huge bags of candy, and one ginormous Christmas card are on their way to the Middle East. My little brother, J, and his buddies are stuck there again for the holidays this year (is this fuckin war over yet???). Doesn't that just suck? Yeah, I agree. So in an effort to make it suck just a TINY bit less, I baked.

Hey hey hey...that will NOT make it worse.

Besides, I didn't do it alone. Wednesday night found me and my nearest and dearest at my apartment- faces covered with flour, fingers stained with sugar, bellies full of spiked mulled cider and cookie dough. My roomates were there, my bff, my neighbor, even my adorable boyfriend got elbow-deep in the floury mess. Each person that came into our apartment also had to hang an ornament on our beautiful (real, thankyouverymuch) Christmas tree.

I weilded an actual rolling pin. *bows to audience* We rolled and cut and decorated and baked and ate and listened to Christmas music and drank peppermint (schnapps) hot chocolate. It was heaven. And in the end, we had an entire countertop-and-now-corrugated-cardboard-box-full of lovingly baked holiday goods to send to the guys over there. who could really use a little piece of home.

Happy Holidays, y'all.

If you want to do something to help get our deployed troops through this holiday season, here are some organizations that can help:

Linny has already adopted half of them herself, but I am sure there are still some soldier's out there that would love a letter from home:

Soldier's Angels

There are many ways to send some love:

Operation USO Care Package

Cards for Troops

Operation Gratitude

L...is for lost and found

2006-12-04T23:48:00.000-05:00

You know how sometimes you get caught up in something? And you can't really see the forest for the trees? (Yeah, I know, I've always hated that saying, but it seemed to be fitting.) Okay, so stodgy metaphor aside, that is how I have felt. Aside from being busy, I have been embroiled. Engrossed. Preoccupied, if you will. Swallowed by life.

At least I'm still dramatic. Tee hee.

The fog has cleared. Lady and gentleman...(I assume that is how many readers have actually stuck through this sabbatical) ring the bells! Ring them bells, you gotta' ring them bells! (obscure musical theatre points: 3 - that's a biggie).

I think what it all boiled down to was that I forgot my worth. L'il ol' me got lost in the proverbial shuffle.

I am working these jobs that pretty much anyone would be lucky and happy to have. (See how grateful I am for that which I already have? heh.) But you know? I can do better than this. I should be making about twice as much money as I currently am. Bottom line.

So, I'm gonna' get it. Looking (again? still?) for a new job.

I have an awesome boyfriend. He's...well...awesome (air sickness bags in your seat back pockets). I can imagine that everyone who sees him and meets him and knows him would want to be his girlfriend. Yes, even you, sir. But they can't have him. Cuz he's mine. Nah nah. Uh oh. Jealous much? Uh...yeah. I mean me. And? *sheepishly biting lip* We've had our first fights. In uncharacteristic fashion, the last few weeks have found me waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yes. I know. Wha???

No more. The last "fight" (and I call it that but really it was just me being mad, and him having to take it and then apologize - heh) resulted in what I can sum up as an epiphany. He's. with. me.

: D

Oh, and I have been eating the broccoli (anemics unite!).

I had been wandering around in a fog for a while. I got busy, then distracted, and somehow lost. But guess what? I'm back! I am found. You see, this is my life! It always will be! Nothing else! Just us, the cameras, and those wonderful people out there in the dark! Hello, my wonderful people. Hello.

T...is for Thanksgiving

2006-11-22T16:29:00.000-05:00

This Thanksgiving, rather than make a list of things that I am thankful for, I am going to name the people that I am thankful for. As far as I am concerned, that's much more important anyway. So, thanks...

Mom, for paying for my braces...and everything else.
Sister, for not telling mom about that one time in high school when I fell and dislocated my elbow at a party I wasn't supposed to be at.
J, my brother, for being so brave and producing two of the world's most amazing little people.
Roommates, for always having coffee ready.
Boyfriend, for the omellette and for making me smile pretty much all the time.
Alex Trebek, for knowing how to pronounce every single word.
Juan Mann, for all the hugs.

And to each and every one of you...Happy Thanksgiving.

"There is a calmness to a life lived in gratitude, a quiet joy."
Ralph H. Blum

P...is for preoccupied

2006-11-09T10:21:00.000-05:00

pre‧oc‧cu‧pied [pree-ok-yuh-pahyd]; adj. - completely engrossed in thought, absorbed; previously occupied, taken, filled.

So...

The shit has hit the fan at work. All hell has broken loose. Two full-time jobs. Two AAA personality bosses. Too much.

A sick kitty. Trouble says "mwow." She's doing okay, but it's been a rough week.

Oh, and I think I have pneumonia or something. Okay, perhaps that is a wee bit dramatic...but this (hacking, whooping, juicy, nasty) cough has lasted over two weeks now. Boo.

My boyfriend was out of the country and completely out of contact for a week.

One or the other of my friends calls me, upset or crying, almost daily. Seems as though everyone around me is running an emotional gauntlet for some reason.

I'm broke.

It's cold.

Houseguests.

...

So how is it that I'm still walking around with a shit-eating perma-grin on my face? *wink wink*

B...is for boyfriend

2006-10-22T23:30:00.000-04:00

I have a boyfriend.

This is the post we have all been waiting for. allison has a boyfriend. Oh my god.

A slow lumber through the dating process. Figuring each other out. Testing one another. Putting up walls. Slowly taking them down. Opening up. Showing vulnerability. Getting to know each other. Intimacy. Talking every night. Making plans. This is how far we've already come. And now...we're both ready.

We're in a relationship.

Usually when something monumental happens to me like this, I liken it to starting a new chapter. And this certainly is one. We will have many stories to share, my Blog friends, from this fairy tale. Rest assured that I am still the same person that started this blog - this journey - almost two years ago. Even though I have fufilled my quest, and I have a new nickname (for one particularly handsome bloke, at least), I am, as always...

happily yours, allison

T...is for taxes

2006-10-18T15:17:00.000-04:00

"In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." - Ben Franklin

I am still alive and kicking (though you wouldn't know it from the regularity of my posts lately), but I did get paid a visit from the reaper. The tax reaper. The IRS. I see very little difference between him and his buddy, Grim, though. I mean, they both come to take your soul.

No me gusta.

For someone who has been blissfully happy for months now, I guess it was my due to have the pendulum swing. And BOY did it ever swing...in spectacular fashion.

Imagine, if you will, a girl. About 5'10", blonde hair, blue eyes, a contented grin. Now picture a shoe. A size 11. No, a 12...and a half. Black. Leather. Boot. A combat boot. Laced tightly up to the knee. Uncle Sam's knee. And this boot is buried right up to Sammy's knee IN MY ASS. Taxes. I'm proud to be an American. This is the price I pay.

Goddammit.

M...is for Mexico

2006-10-12T00:46:00.000-04:00

SO. busy. Must. Post. Breathe first. Slap up some pictures to distract and then write as soon as possible.

I like the way you move.

Under the Mexican sun. The sunset from our Villa patio.

feliz cumpleaños!

I. swam. with. dolphins.

tan.

Indeed.

Puerto Vallarta. Out.

L...is for love

2006-10-02T13:26:00.000-04:00

I love my life.

I turn 30 tomorrow.

I am here...

I love my life.

B...is for bud

2006-09-21T13:07:00.000-04:00

I did not hook up with Painter. I am trying to see this not as an opportunity missed, but rather the pursuit of another opportunity...

The bud. The budding relationship. I think it's time I explain that, no?

Hottie Bartender.

There...most of you are already caught up. We met 6 months ago and had fun for a couple of months. At any point during our dating, it could have ended and I think I would have been okay with it...I think me may have even been able to still be friends. In the last couple of months, things have changed. Nay...things have grown.

I get a text message from him on Friday..."wanna go see a play tonight? I got your ticket." It was a terrible play, but wonderful fodder for our conversation as we strolled arm-in-arm to meet my roommates at a bar nearby. An awesome, fun night, the long overdue "Talk", and a warm, cuddly morning.

He had already asked me to join him to watch his college team play football the following afternoon. I met him at his work, where he tossed his favorite baseball hat on the bar for me to wear. "Twice as hot" was apparently how it looked on me - which could have been true as I was melting into a mushy pool while he aimed that gorgeous smile at me. "Oh yeah, and we have plans tonight" he says as he tosses two Red Sox v. Yankees tickets on the bar in front of me.

Seriously.

So after our wonderful night at the theatre, we spent the entire next day together watching college football. And then went to the Yankees game where we sat in our nosebleed seats eating Nathan's hot dogs (his with mustard, mine with ketchup) and drinking giant beers. Even the weather was perfect. And then he looked over at me and flashed that smile again.

He wins.

We met with some friends at a coffee shop Monday night, and I am sick as a dog. He made me sit down while he got me peppermint tea. He sent me a text message and in it addressed me as "darlin". (Yes. I find that charming and affectionate.) I don't need to go on, do I?

We are still undefined. He's not my boyfriend, I'm not his girlfriend. But we're together. And we're perfect this way. I had many doubts and troubles with the lack of definition in our relationship. Realizing I was falling for someone and not knowing if he was falling or just standing still. I still don't know these things, but I do know how I am feeling.

So, I shall not nip this bud. Rather, I will nourish it and see how it grows.

B...is for better

2006-09-19T03:28:00.000-04:00

You know how things can go from bad to worse? Or from good to better to best? Today, I am better.

*Pause in the program to thank Trouble for stepping in for me in the previous post. It was kind of a weird, rough week, but I think it is safe now to say we have put that behind us.*

I am better. Life is good. (Even though today, I am sick. *sniff* *cough*)

I am getting over the gun thing. We met our three next door neighbors who are absolutely delightful. They had us over for dinner and drinks twice last week. The day of the gun, I told them the story - hell, this is their corner, too. The next day, Brazilian neighbor decided to call the police and report it for me, just to be safe. Good people.

Gets better.

Sunday was hung-over-apartment-shit day, and my neighbors miraculously showed up at my door at the VERY moment I had begun to paint my ginormous-sized bedroom. "Hmm, funny...we have nothing to do tonight" and, "oh, wait...he works for a painting company - this is what he does for a living" and, "yeah, sure...we have a ladder. As a matter of fact, why don't you just finish taping and he'll paint the line up to the ceiling by hand and I will roll and then we'll hang out, have dinner, smoke some pot and have a FUCKING AMAMZING TIME and get the whole room painted in about 2 hours." Fuck. yeah.

Did I mention that Painter was a 6'4" handsome son of a dimplomat with one of the cutest smiles and quirkiest senses of humor who also happens to be moving back to Croatia for good in 10 days and asked when we were going to marry? I forgot to mention?

The Universe conspired on Sunday night to bring this almost unbelievable man to my door at this moment in my life. We flirted...and I suspect that I could have gone there very easily.

But I had a very serious decision to make about that.

Next week on "allison". Hehehe. I am just getting you all ready for Grey's Anatomy n' shit. Really, there is a more to tell, but I'm just gonna' post this - put it out there so y'all don't think I got shot or some shit and start on the next episode...

T...is for troubled

2006-09-12T03:23:00.000-04:00

Hi. This is Trouble, the cow kitty. Mom's been busy, so I thought I would pound something out on the ol' laptop to let you all know what's going on with her lately.

She's been troubled. (Pun intended. What can I say? She raised me.)

Yesterday was 9/11. All the terrorist crap made all the humans around here very edgy. The energy in this city was tense. I could see it all from my windowsill. I have that cool sixth sense thing, too. I don't really get it, but mom stayed home from work cuz I guess she works directly across the street from all the stuff that was on the news, and I got to hang out with her all day.

Oh...so mom was in the living room doin' something (I don't pay that close attention when I am in nap-mode) when she heard this ruccus on the street outside. The escalated voices and suddent shouting woke me up, and I noticed she had moved to the window to check it out. That was when allison saw her first gun. A group of men confronting each other on a New York city sidewalk, one with an unleashed pit bull that scared one of my lives right out of me. What really rattled mom's cage was the man aiming a gun at another man. Holding a gun. Aimed at a man. Finger on the trigger. Everyone seemed to pause in mid-air, waiting to see what was going to happen.

She's drinking that smelly brown stuff (she calls it "scott" or something like that) right now. I haven't seen her this shaken up in a while. That's why I decided to chime in here for a spell and bring you up to speed - in case she doesn't get around to it right away.

So there was this tension to the day, topped off by potential homicide, and then the whole thing that is going on with this big guy. I should explain that, too, since mom doesn't really no how to describe the whole thing anyway.

Every once in a while, there is this big guy who comes over and sleeps in my spot. Pisses me off, really...but he seems nice enough, so I usually just let it go. When mom was gone for all that time, he took pretty good care of me and so I got used to cuddling up with him every night. Hey...I'm a girl, too, after all. He plays with me sometimes, too and I guess - for a human - he's pretty cute.

Anyway, when mom and I are asleep at night, sometimes that little metal thing will shake and wake us up. And then the light comes on it and she pushes all these little buttons, and she usually smiles and then we go back to sleep. And then when he comes over, I know to stay off the bed while they move around a lot and make all the crazy noises, cuz I always end up getting smooshed. But then they make plenty of room for me, especially in the morning cuz they end up all on one side. I guess I like him because mom smiles a whole lot when he is over. And he does, too. I like when his hair gets real messy in the morning (it's getting long like mom told him to do) cuz then I can make fun of him without him even knowing it. heheheh.

But last night was weird cuz he didn't come over or anything. I kinda' thought he would cuz mom left and she was wearing the clicky shoes. I don't like those as much cuz 1) their noisy and I need my beauty sleep, and 2) they make her stay away from home later than other nights. But she came home normal time and he didn't come over, so I thought that was weird. And she seemed crabby. And the little box with the light didn't shake or anything. So...I don't know what's going on there, but mom wasn't happy last night or this morning either.

And then she did laundry all day and then saw a gun. And then when the little box thing did light up, she didn't seem to happy when it went against her ear and she held it there for a minute, cuz she didn't say anything, she just frowned.

I bet she will be back tomorrow to tell you more about all of this. I just wanted to give you the d.l. and say hi. Meow, everyhuman! Me-ow.

A...is for AWOL

2006-09-11T11:49:00.000-04:00

I am fine. Thank you for asking. I have been AWOL lately. Yes, this is true. And I think I have a good excuse...

...moved into my new Manhattan apartment on September 1st.

...courting a budding relationship.

...thinking about nipping new relationship in the bud.

...working at Wall Street law firm and hating every second of it except for that brief moment at the very end of the month when they hand me my paycheck.

...drinking A LOT of coffee.

...planning my trip to Mexico in THREE EFFING WEEKS.

...unpacking boxes. Unpacking boxes. Unpacking boxes. Unpacking boxes.

...drinking A LOT of wine.

...running a 5K yesterday and kicking some Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure breast cancer ASS!

Yes, there are a lot of holes in my excuse theory, and I intend to fill them in due time. And read up on your lives, your trips, your relationships. I am not gone, and I hope not forgotten.

2006-08-29T13:07:00.000-04:00

The Fear You Won't Fall
by Joshua Radin

Digging a hole and the walls are caving in
Behind me air's getting thin but I'm trying
I'm breathing in
Come find me
It hasn't felt like this before
It hasn't felt like home before you
And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel
This way
And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you

I know you're scared that I'll soon be over it
That's part of it all
Part of the beauty of falling in love with you is the fear you won't fall
It hasn't felt like this before
It hasn't felt like home before you
And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel
This way
And I miss you more than I should than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you

And I hate the phone
But I wish you'd call
Thought being alone
Was better than was better than
And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel this way
And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you
Can't get my mind off of you

And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel
This way
And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you

Couldn't have said it better myself.

A...is for aloha

2006-08-14T15:39:00.000-04:00

Lanikai Beach, O'ahu, Hawaii.

This place is paradise, no? This morning, I stepped out onto the patio overlooking the golf course and took in the prism of colors in a huge arcing rainbow. (Like...come on. A rainbow? Seriously? Seriously.) I know I do not dictate the weather, but my chakras are balanced.

(These are pictures I took with my cell phone, btw. Not bad, huh? Still better to come when I get home this weekend and upload the photos I have been taking all week).

I am SuperNanny this week - hence the seemingly random trip to Hawaii. I am helping my boss's wife take care of her three kids upon their return home to Hawaii. Not a bad gig, huh? I am exhausted. Kids? Work. Furreals. There must be some huge payoff when they are your own, because otherwise? I'm not so sure about the whole children thing. They have really been taking up most of my time and energy here on the island, but I have also had a chance to see and do some amazing things.

Hanauma Bay, O'ahu, Hawaii.

I took the oldest to Hanauma Bay to snorkel. Crystal clear blue water. Huge, colorful tropical fish. We couldn't find any sea turtles (which sadly find themselves on the endangered species list and therefore a very special sight to see).

We just got back from the North Shore, where we spent the weekend at the family's beach house. Swimming in the ocean in what the locals call "Bathtub Beach". Touring the Polynesian Cultural Center where we watched people do native dances, bang on drums, and sit on fire. Yes. They actually sat on fire. Fascinating stuff, really. We bought fresh cut pineapple, coconut, and mango at a roadside stand. I have sand in places that I can't describe here without this becoming one of "those" blogs.

Every day finds me with a flower in my hair. Fresh plumeria blossoms fall in piles from trees along the side of the road. I was greeted at the airport with a gorgeous and fragrant yellow plumeria lei. Orchids and birds of paradise and every tropical flower you've ever seen grow in people's yards. This is where they invented the term "sky blue". And the water is turquoise. And warm. Oh...and GECKOS! There are little tiny lizards running around like bugs! There was one running around in my condo the other day! Not a bug (though there are a few of those, too), a fucking lizard. Cu-ray-zee.

Until Friday, I will soak in as much of the sun and sky as I possibly can without contracting a third degree burn (spf 30, y'all). And whence I return, another update. Until then, hang loose!

Aloha!

C...is for clicking

2006-08-08T11:45:00.000-04:00

Steffie-poo...

That's me this morning. I am clicking on all cylinders. Finally.

Is it because of the great sex last night?

Could it be the unbelievable conversation I had with High School Sweetheart last night right before you called?

Is it because I managed to pull my accounts together to cover the ginormous check we are about to write? Because I heard from Roomie and she is wiring me her money?

Perhaps it is because we are going to be able to sign our lease today...and I get to go to Hawaii in the morning knowing that everything is taken care of?

The amazing release I got from running last night?

Surrendering to the Universe and letting things unfold the way they were meant to?

Or is it the coffee? The magic of caffeine? And really good music on a speedy morning subway train?

Not sure, but whatever it is...it's working.

*click*

(I am turning this email into a blog post - so don't be surprised when you see it on there later).

I...is for it's gettin' hot in here

2006-08-02T22:47:00.000-04:00

So take off all your clothes.

WHOO! I mean it! Do it. Go ' head on now.

Okay, whatever. BUT, if you are in New York - or anywhere on the East Coast for that matter - take. them. off. IT'S HOTTTTT. 102 degrees in Central Park today. That shit ain't right, yo.

But things other than the fucking hellish air are heating up right now, too.

The apartment situation has finally come to a head. I am moving out on Aug. 31. Poobags. I fought the rent hike but there was no way to make it work. WHO can afford having their already goddamn ridiculously overextended budget jacked up by an extra...oh, I don't know...say...THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH. Yes, it is better than the almost six hundred dollar hike my lovely lovely landlords originally proposed, but. whatever.

I have since found a HOT new apartment and got the "Approved!" call this afternoon. Four bedrooms, two full baths, gi-frickin-normous, and brand spankin' new. Did I mention I will be saving over $200 a month in rent? And splitting utilities. And socializing. With people. Hot people - my roomies are delish, lemme tell you. It's all good. I can't fucking wait. I am getting a big girl bed! Say adios to the love nest, y'all...allison is graduating!

The ol' love life is pretty hot right now, too. The competition has fallen by the wayside as Hottie Bartender has dashed his way into the lead. He's staying with me. Every night. He had to move out of his apartment. His new apartment is not ready yet. He needed a place to stay. I have a place to stay. Simple math. We're figuring it out. We're figuring each other out. I'll tell you what...it sure is nice waking up next to someone every morning.

And, last but not least, work is heating up to the point of boiling over. I acquired a new client - a Wall Street law firm. It might be too harsh to say that I hate it, but I hate it. It's not a nine-to-five gig (or I wouldn't be doing it...hello?), but it is a four-day-a-week-and-a-forty-minute-subway-ride gig. And for someone who has been working from home for the last three years, the adjustment is...well, let's just say I hate it. I'm sticking my tongue out right now. You can't see it, but be assured that I am.

Oh, I sued someone today. At least, I think I did. Did I mention that I have NO idea what I am doing at this law firm, really? Anyway, they got served. And that's kinda' hot.

A...is for and they're off

2006-07-30T14:00:00.000-04:00

My love life of late has been compared to the Kentucky Derby. Seriously...someone else called it that. Not even me. But I have to agree. This shit's crazy up in here. And now with the call...

They're they go...

Sportfolio 2006 and the $1,000,000 Santa Anita handicap is off and running with 5 top thoroughbreds streaking past the grand stands. The famous Hottie Bartender jams his way through the bunch as he starts his drive toward the leaders. But Two Night Stand plods along steadily on the outside getting positioned for one of the greatest stretch duels in handicap history. Hottie Bartender and Two Night Stand hook the pace together...

Here on the outside comes Perfect On Paper in a good position...

Hottie Bartender is now moving up...

Perfect On Paper has got the lead with a drunken make-out session and the battle's on and it's anybody's race right til the end...

Sports-loving fans have found an idol and backed Hottie Bartender to the limit...

But there's not a man today can catch High School Sweetheart's flying heels...

All turfdom wants to know if Hottie Bartender can beat the mythical High School Sweetheart...

College Bartender is in the back with only one email in three weeks, and Perfect on Paper has now fallen way back...

OH! Two Night Stand pulls up lame and is out of the race with an unanswered phone call...

Hottie Bartender going to the front...

They're coming around the final turn...

WHO WILL GRAB THE BRASS RING AND END UP IN THE WINNER'S CIRCLE???
Damn, y'all...I wanna' know too! Stay tuned and we'll find out together. (Don't be callin' PETA or NOW or anything. It's all in fun and I don't really consider them horses. Not reeeeally. hehe.)

N...is for NEXT!

2006-07-26T21:17:00.000-04:00

Komen New York City Race for the Cure 5K

September 10, 2006

It's ON.

G...is for GO!

2006-07-23T14:12:00.000-04:00

I did it!

Official time - 51:23.

There were almost 4,000 people running this race, including me and my lovely Steffie (who kicked some royal ass, btw). It was hard. It was exhausting. It was exhilarating.

I think I want to do it again.

G...is for Get Set

2006-07-21T20:49:00.001-04:00

Race tomorrow.

Oh shit.

O...is for On Your Marks

2006-07-19T00:36:00.000-04:00

Race is Saturday.

Four days and counting.

One run training run left.

Thank President Bush's microphone, it couldn't be close enough to over.

*****
Updates? You want updates? And Buffy wants pictures.

Let me get through this week, my preciouses, and you shall have all that you ask for. And cookies. (That'll bring 'em back).

P...is for progress

2006-07-10T17:53:00.000-04:00

No more baby steps. I am a runner now, people.

Today, I ran about 2 miles. Remember a few weeks ago when I fought for those six blocks? Pish, I say. The new shoes have broken themselves in. The fatigue and resistance lessened. The hips and knees still replaceable, but functioning. And I have almost two more weeks to kick it up even more. I will cross that finish line. I might not do it very fast, but I will get there. And that is more than I could have said a few weeks ago, so there is definite progress.

Things with hottie bartender are progressing beautifully. I have learned that he is a really talented actor. He's adorable and fun and weird. He nicknamed me Sparky (and those who have been reading for a while know just how eerily significant that is). He now has a toothbrush...right next to mine in my bathroom. The more I go away, the more he seems to like me. So, I will see him in a week and we will go from there. As for now, and as I said before, things are progressing beautifully.

And new steps have been taken in the search for high school sweetheart. Actually, leaps and bounds more accurately describe how this situation is progressing.

We spoke. To each other. On the phone. Last night.

We had been trading voicemails over the weekend (his the initial outgoing call) and finally connected telephonically last night. It was surreal and so familiar all at the same time. High school sweetheart has the same voice, the same giggle. He talked excitedlyand endlessly, rehashing all that has transpired in the 8 years since last we spoke (10 years since we last saw each other). We tried to stick to the Reader's Digest versions of our personal histories so we could get through it all, and almost immediately decided that we needed more time, more contact. We will talk again this week. We've already exchanged photo-laden emails. We will see each other. Soon. Maybe even in the next few weeks.

This isn't just progress...this is a fucking time warp.

B...is for blaze of glory

2006-07-06T14:27:00.000-04:00

Jon. O' Jon. I'm-a comin', Jon. I can see the light...

What? He's not dead yet? Hm. Well, that's good, at least. I always liked him.

But, I am about one ketel and soda away from lights out. I should be wearing elastic waisted pants for the size of my liver right now. My eyes are bloodshot and the bags beneath are bigger than my overstuffed suitcase. I kinda' look like a well-dressed junkie.

And I'm still in Chicago.

Confused? I am sorry. I will not bore you with the mundane details, but my blog-absence can be explained thusly: I am on a major boozer. Drinking my way through the Midwest - one highball at a time. Started the trip a week ago in Detroit for a couple of family functions - weddings and whatnot. Transported the party to Chicago on Sunday, where I have been drinking my face off for four days straight. I have been drunk or some reasonable facsimile thereof for 7 nights. in. a. row.

Go ahead. Make the call.

Anyway, tonight marks my triumphant return to New York City after one of the best goddamn weeks of my life. And I am going out in a blaze of glory.

Hung over as shit.

Why was it such a kick ass week? I spent time with my amazing family in Detroit. They are crazy, and that is a good thing as I am, too. I reconnected with a friend from high school who I have not seen or spoken to in...oh...12 years or so. Met his lovely wife. Through them, found my high school sweethear t. He is still single. *gulp* This is huge, people. Third party contact has been established. *gulp*

Chicago has been a blast. I have spent time with my friends, met new ones, and once again reconnected with old friends I haven't seen in more than one hand's worth of years. And by "reconnected" I mean "made out with". Woops! Hehe. Nothing major for anyone to tsk tsk at, just a good cuddle session and a little liplocking. Good times.

Oh, and did I mention I got drunk? Yeah. I had the most fantastic 4th of July ever. We got all sorts of trashed, and then went to the middle of the lawn in a park to watch fireworks. It was 360 degrees and over two hours worth of lights and sparkles. People everywhere were blowing shit up. It was exhilarating. Some other cool kids in the park played freeze tag with us. Only lasted a few minutes cuz we're old and got tired immediately. Plus, I never had a clue who was "it", so I just ran away from everybody. Anyway, good frickin' times, y'all.

And last night my lunatic sidekick, Laura, and I hoppped to about 7 different bars. Then rolled out of bed this morning and into work. In an office. With people. Looking, I am sure, like a couple of crack whores after a long, hard night. And again I say...good. times. As we were driving into work today, Bon Jovi "Blaze of Glory" came on the radio. We looked at each other, high fived, and cranked that shit up.

I wake up in the morning
And I raise my weary head
I got an old coat for a pillow
And the earth was last night's bed
I don't know where I'm going
Only God knows where I've been
I'm a devil on the run
A six gun lover

A candle in the wind

S...is for start

2006-06-28T00:05:00.000-04:00

Today was the START of training for my very first race ever - a 4-mile run in Central Park on July 22.

I must be fuckin' crazy.

I went to the running store last night and dropped a hunnerd fitty on stuff. To run. Apparently, you can't just put foot to pavement. You need stuff, too. Then today, I strapped on my shiny new turquoise shoes and hit the Park for my first go at the 4-mile loop.

In addition to the necessary accesories, there are many other things I did not realize about running. I got new shoes, and some new shorts, too. And soon I will also be getting two shiny new hips. Them new, highfalutin plastic numbers that they can put in ya' now and last forever and ever. Possibly a new knee, too. Because, y'all...

Running is fucking hard, yo! I knew it was challenging and tiring and all, but I didn't realize that I would be cursing the very ground I was pounding on within a mere 6 blocks.

Another thing I realized today is that I am one gangly motherfucker. My arms and my legs are uncomfortably long for the practice of running. Oh, and you have to have abs, man. Like, a steel core. When running, things tend to wobble about, and it takes an exorbanent amount of energy to try to keep it all together. And my fingers, normally much like the rest of my apendages, become little sausages. Ew. Did I mention that I have huge breasts? Oh god, we won't even go there.

I am following the lead of some of my very best chick friends who have all found of late a passion for running. I have been working out for months now, but gotta' admit, it's gotten boring. I have hit that dreaded plateau. So, to kickstart the ol' routine and see just how far I can push this body of mine, I signed up for this race.

I must be fuckin' crazy.

Yes, I already said that.

One of those friends who has inspired me to start running has also been giving me invaluable advice on the how-to's. She is a wonderful friend, because she is not afraid to tell me how it is sometimes, and other times she acts as a mirror so I can see it for myself. Today, she reflected some of my own words back to me and I called upon them while I was running walking. "Be gentle with yourself." This is my very first race, and she told me that the goal she set for herself for her very first race was just to finish. So I am taking all of her sage advice and setting this goal for my race on July 22...

Just FINISH the fucking thing.

T...is for tonight

2006-06-27T12:51:00.000-04:00

"Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel." - Smashing Pumpkins

And while I feel that last line might be a bit dramatic, the rest of it rings so true.

I am not quite sure where to begin.

Tonight [okay, so now it was the other night because I didn't post this right away, but what is that but semantic. Moving on...] was a mellow one...to start. Me and my girlfriend hanging out, reconnecting and spending time together after what feels like a long time (which, for people who feed off of each other socially in New York City, can actually be just a very short time), visited one of our old haunts.

We. got. trashed. Like, shots-of-Jameson trashed.

And then we went to hear an old friend (who also happens to be one of our favorite artists) play an acoustic set at a bar in the East Village. Tonight, for the first time, he had accompaniment. A truly talented musician, singer, and violinist all rolled into one petite little body (who also happens to be his significant other) - played his set with him tonight and blew us all away. They were magnificent toghether. Enviable. Beautiful.

...to the point where I had to excuse myself from their set momentarily and call my best girl in Chicago to talk me off the ledge and convince me not to call all those people with whom I have had any semblence of connection with in recent history and just go on with my night. Have you ever seen two people truly in love? Have you ever seen the way they look at each other? The words unspoken? I have. I did, tonight. However, I have good Single-girl coaches, and so was able to return to the show.

It was awesome...lighthearted and fun.

Until the final song of their set. The encore. "In the key of G...just follow me" he said. She nodded...violin and bow posed, at the ready. In a slight to me, her, and the rest of his entire audience, he set down his guitar, got down on one knee, and asked her to marry him.

Just like that.

Of course every woman in the room bawled her eyes out. I am not an exception. But, I had never seen it before. True...I have heard the stories. I know people who have been there. This is nothing new to me or mine. But to BE THERE? To have been a part of it? To be as surprised as she was while it was actually happening? It was amazing...overwhelming...and surprisingly emotional.

So my ideas about engagements and marriage and all that crap have changed alot in recent years. I am the tough, single city girl who thinks she already has everything that she needs. And then... *sigh* ...along come a night like tonight. Emails arrive from girlfriends showing off their ginormous pregnant bellies. My nephew graduated from preschool - I admire the picture of him in his little cap and gown and everything.

Tonight was an important one for more than just my newly finaced friends. Tonight I was reminded that I still believe in love.

C...is for cloudy

2006-06-12T23:14:00.000-04:00

I was walking up the street with Stef today, trying to pick a restaurant for us to have dinner, and it became clear that I am having some clarity issues (haha! no pun intended). I couldn't pick a restaurant. I just couldn't choose. There was what I wanted, but then there was what she wanted, and then he might come and meet us for dinner and I just can't be responsible for this kind of decision. Eventually, we had walked far enough and Stef said "Here."

We were having coffee this morning and I sat there, staring at nothing, unsure of when to leave. I had somewhere to be. There were alot of things to be done. But I just sat there until the clock clicked to the next hour, decided that that was the time, and I left.

I was supposed to meet him for a drink, but he was with his friends and didn't say "Please come." So I couldn't decide whether I should go or not. I wish-washed until the check was paid and the purses were gathered, the flip-flops hit the sidewalk, and I didn't go.

I don't know where I will be living or what I will be doing by the end of this summer. I have no idea. I have to admit that, right now, I am confused. Tonight's forecast is mostly cloudy.

Ken said that this is actually exciting - to have the world open to me. He is right...and I am hoping that the clouds will part and my next post will be titled P...is for possibilities.

K...is for kvetch

2006-06-10T21:32:00.000-04:00

"Well, you know what they say: if you don't have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me!" - Clairee, Steel Magnolias

Yes, I do use a lot of movie quotes. Hesh. But if someone else has already said it better, then I'm stealin' their shit. And...scene.

Anyway, I am Clairee. Nice ta' meetcha. I have been very moody, tending more toward crabby. I was going to title/write this post like "don't you hate it when...and then they all...and I don't know how to deal with...fucking bullshit." Even I hate reading those posts, though, so I tabled it temporarily to throw in this preface first.

And now to the kvetching.

Actually, no. I won't bitch entirely. I will share my ephiphanous moments arrived at from moments of dissatisfaction. Uh...epiphany may be a bit strong. Actually, the wrong word entirely. (Can anyone say stream-of-consciousness? Two more glasses of wine and I won't either). Aw, fuck it. I have been wading in bullshit. It's a sunny day on a beautiful beach, but I have happened to sit in the one spot near where a dog recently pooped and the smell occasionally wafts through the air, all pungent and nasty.

And the award for The Most Obscure and Uncomfortable Metaphor Ever goes to...

I am easily blown off. Whaaa??? How did this happen? No me gusta. Apparently, I need to be more certain or confirmative ('tis a word when one decides 'tis a word) when it comes to making plans with people, cuz it seems to be a frequent occurrence that they don't come through. I find this highly annoying. But, it keeps happening. So, who is to blame here? At a certain point, I kinda' feel like the fault is mine, since it keeps happening. But how does one isolate the reason...the "why"? And, even more importantly, what does one do to make it fucking stop?

Sadly, two of my best girlfriends are buggin' out of NYC and heading to LA LAland. One gone already, the other on her way. Others of my friends have bugged out in other ways. The blowing-off, as I have previously mentioned, being one example. New relationships. Work. Whatever. Something else is always more important. Maybe because I don't have a "someone special" I hold my friends in that stead. It sucks to learn that I am not held in the same esteem.

My recently-expatriated friends are convinced I belong in L.A. Others think I belong back in Chicago. As Carrie annoyingly pondered in every episode,"I couldn't help but wonder..." I don't know why I am still struggling to live in New York. The short answer is "cuz the party hasn't ended yet." But do I really want to be that girl? The last one at the party scraping the chiplets out of the bottom of the bowl, head tilted back, pouring them into my mouth, holding two glasses of watered-down somethin'-or-other mixed drink that didn't have cigarette butts in them but the liquor ran out a while ago so there ain't no more fresh drinks to be had, clutching at people's sleeves as they try to exit, proclaiming the party as having just begun and a wild game of beer pong about to ensue and...guys? Guys??? Hey, where'd everybody go?

No. Thanks.

But I'm still here. So, there's that.

I have had conversations with some people lately that have made me feel wrong. Like what I think or feel is wrong, or the choices I have made with my life aren't the choices they would have made. I shouldn't care, shouldn't let it bother me. I should be strong in my convictions, should maintain the balance I have strived all my life to achieve. But, it still gets to me. I guess I answered my own question about how to avoid this situation, so...never mind, I guess.

I haven't really learned anything about myself through this crap, really. Or this post. Sorry. Just that my life isn't perfect. And I guess that is okay. I was going to make reference to flinging the stinky beach poo onto someone else's blanket...

...but then I remembered how much I still hate that metaphor.

HA. You thought I was going to say "because that isn't nice." Suckers.

P...is for push

2006-06-08T03:11:00.000-04:00

You push me when I think I know it all.
You push me when I stumble and I fall.

The people who I have chosen to share my life with have made me who I am today.

I have felt recently as though I might pushing away some of my friends.

Not on purpose...but simply because I am more free and willing to speak my mind than ever before in my life. Even when I am wrong.

You push me when I don't appreciate.
You push me not to lie and not to hate.

Up until about a week ago, my mother never knew my religious persuasions. And apparently was shocked to learn of them.

And so are some of my friends.

But I can't be someone I'm not. I never could be. I never will be. I hope to hope neither will they.

Every move I make [To see the other point of view]
Every step I take [When there's nothing else to do]
Everything I know [When I think I know it all]
It's all because you push me.

I know who I am.

And I know what I want out of life.

I do not judge, and so I ask not to be judged. This is where I stand. And sometimes I push.

I hope that none of us have been pushed so far so that we can not see where the other is coming from.

A...is for Armageddon It

2006-06-06T15:44:00.000-04:00

Check your calendars, yo. Today is...

06 . 06 . 06

C'mon, Steve, get it.

S...is for sponsored

2006-06-02T16:52:00.000-04:00

Today's post is sponsored by the letter
S...is for severe. Last night, I turned off my tv and watched the sky darken as a thunderstorm rolled across my little window-shaped portion of the sky. I love thunderstorms. I find them to be very romantic.

But this storm was tight. The lightning struck in stunning bolts and constant flashes. The thunder cracked loudly and shook the room. The sky was an eerie shade of brown. This severe storm was anything but romantic...it was the battered wife of weather patterns.

S...is for scaredy cat. A bright bolt of lightning, and suddenly I am eight years old again. My fingers shoved in my ears, eyes squeezed shut, holding my breath waiting for the deafening crack of thunder. I may act grown up, but, apparently, I am still partly that scared little kid.

And when I mean scared, I mean grab-a-radio, a-blanket, and-a-sibling-and-go-into-the-basement, allison when a severe thunderstorm or tornado warning would beeeeeeeeep into our radio or tv programs. 'Oh shit,' I would think. 'Today is the day. I am going to lose everything today.' Yes, I have always had a flare for the dramatic. But, it was sincere. I was phobic about storms. Thought I was over it. But I have a twinge of that scaredy cat in me still.

S...is for Stef. Today marks the landing of The Croation Sensation in the big crater we know as New York City. I have a temporary roommate. And while most of you just cringed - as I normally do at the thought of sharing my love nest with another body - I am looking at this as an extended slumber party. She will be living with me until she finds a place of her own, and we will be those two wild and crazy gals, wearing madras and golf caps, bumping hips with whichever unlucky fella gets in our ways. Drunk posts will abound.

Well, that's not really new, but whatever. Hush you. S...is for shhhh.

B...is for blurb

2006-05-31T22:30:00.000-04:00

A thought for today. And to move last week's post down the page a bit.

"Hallmark doesn't make a 'Congratulations, you didn't marry the wrong guy' card." - Carrie, Sex and the City

Can I get a hells yeah?

S...is for sparks

2006-05-25T14:18:00.000-04:00

Lately, I am like a wet matchbook. All this potential energy, but no ability to light. A friend told me today that I need to light a fire under my ass. And I agree with her. Problem is, whenever there is a spark, it just fizzles out, because the wick is damp.

All my life, I have had to fight and work really hard for everything I have wanted. I have always had a fire burning deep inside me that pushed my little steam engine forward, even up the steepest climes. And, you know what? I have gotten everything I have ever wanted. For the most part. I always achieve. I always receive. And when I don't, it's usually because something better was in store for me.

So, when my fire has gone dim, or feels like it has gone out, it throws me into this dark place. I feel like I am kind of blindly groping about. I crossed an intersection against the light today and barely noticed as a taxi barrelled through the intersection toward me. I hadn't even looked up to see it coming, but luckily had reached the curb before it reached me. I don't get this way purposefully, or naturally, but I allow circumstances to darken my world and leave me blind.

I might be losing my apartment. I LOVE my apartment. I got really really lucky in finding this place and being able to live here for three years - alone and in one of the greatest city's greatest neighborhoods. And someone told me I might not be able to live here anymore (it's a rent$$$ thing). They splashed cold water on the coals of my hearth, and left me to smolder in the ashes.

I've given up on my dream...for the most part. I wanted to move to New York and be an actress. Well, I am here, but that's about it. For years now, I have been talking about rekindling my career by doing a solo cabaret show, and I have ALL the support under the sun. But, I haven't taken one solitary step in the direction of making it come to light.

There are no romantic sparks in my life right now. I've had a few, but they never caught. The torch I once carried for "He"WhomWeNoLongerSpeakOf has died out. A few weeks ago, I stirred up the embers of another old flame for one night. That one burned really hot and really fast and burned out as quickly as it flared up...all in one night. I am still seeing Hottie Bartender, but there is no real flame there. Unless I drop a match down his shirt. Which I would never do, cuz burning flesh ain't what I would describe as fragrant. And, it's mean. I have a friend with whom I have genuine chemistry, but he has this drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend so...plllppptt. And here I stand, with my taper to the unity candle and hot wax dripping on my hand waiting for the other one to be lit. At this rate, I'm gonna' need a box of these. Or the Olympic torch.

But, like a good ol' reliable Kenmore from way back when, my pilot light never goes out. I may be cold and wet and feel lost in the dark (dramatic much?), but I've been here before, and I'll probably be here again, and I know I can make it through. I can stoke up a bonfire and fight my landlords for the right to stay in this apartment. I can dry off those matches, or buy a frickin' lighter...hell, douse a pile of paper with lighter fluid and set that shit off with a lighted cigarette, but I can make something of my career yet. And I should. And I will. As for that romantic spark? I guess I just need to fan my inner flame and get out of the dark - so that they can see me and I can see them.

And someday - I still have hope - the spark will ignite.

R...is for redneck

2006-05-24T17:54:00.000-04:00

I went to North Carolina and all I got was a red neck. Oh, and food poisoning or a stomach virus or something else equally excrutiating. And a new digital camera. All in all, it was a successful trip. (And that is where I have been and thus absent here. But, I am back now. Hi.)

Before Hof and A* get all fired up at the redneck thing, let me say that I literally DID get a red neck. A lovely t-shirt sunburn. But, wait 'til you hear how. I was out on a lake...on a boat...

...fishing.

Seriously.

I spent last weekend in North Carolina with my nephews---MYBABIESohIcouldjusteatthemalive. We kicked the weekend off by golfing. Well, for me that would be defined as "swinging furiously at a small white ball, occassionally making contact while swearing profusely and dislocating shoulder from socket". That, right there, is the expression of success.

The next day, we back-roaded it to a campsite on a huge lake somewhere in the middle of nowhere and camped...yes, camped...for 2 days. I slept in a tent. I CHOPPED WOOD (yes, somebody actually gave me an ax). I baited a fish hook. WITH A WORM. THAT I CUT IN HALF WITH MY FINGERNAIL. AAH! I am tainted! Dirty! UNCLEAN! I didn't shower. I wiped my hands on my shirt. Big City Girl turned Backwoods Bumpkin'. It was actually some fun, too. I got to spend some quality time with my bro 'round the campfire. I taught my nephews how to roast marshmallows and (ew) ate (ew) all (ew) their (ew) s'mores (ew).

We spent a couple of days at my brother's house, playing and eating and shopping. I got an early birthday present (feel free, y'all...it's never too early to share the love). Me likey. That is where the subsequent sickening happened and I ended up spending an extra day on my little vaca. I have to say, though, all the cold sweats and ginger ale was worth the extra lubbin' time with my buddies.

E...is for early

2006-05-16T21:59:00.000-04:00

So, it is 9:43pm and I am early. For the first time - probably in history - I am ready early. See, I am going out tonight. And I had a lot of time. So I got ready and now I am ready and I have all this time to kill. So I am blogging.

Drunk.

Hi.

[Typo corrections in this post to date = 36, so far]

I am bored with my writing. Lately. I am bored with my thoughts. Lately. However, I am not bored with my life. Lately. My life is fascinating and exciting. Well, to me. Although I kind of sacrificed my anonymity a while back and personally know alot of my readers, I am still remiss to post the intimate details of my life. Probably for the same reason.

I know a lot of my readers.

I don't typically kiss and tell. Many of my friends would argue this and they would win the point, but they don't count. To them, I live my life in the open. As Iyanla coaches, I "live out loud". My life is an open book. Umm...I wear my heart on my sleeve. (Coming soon, allison's memoirs with one of these shnappily cliched titles). But still, not quite here. There is alot going on in the world that is allison that I have not written about. And might not.

I know, by reading, how much most of you divulge of your personal lives. I have seen some of my regular reads meet, I have met some, some fall in love, some fall apart, seen some come and go, some come back again. But those of you who stuck around long enough to get to this point in this blatantly pointless post, answer me this...

How much do you leave out? How private have you managed to remain while maintaining some semblance of self in your blog?

2 minutes to go...and I have to pick out shoes. Guess I will have to save the uber-personal and private gobbledygook for another drunken post to come. Don't worry, y'all...I don't think it will be long.

M...is for mom, Part Two

2006-05-14T22:11:00.000-04:00

Remember how I said in my last post that my mom is the best?

SHE sent ME a Mother's Day gift and a card saying thank you for making her the mother that she is today...

...and for the wonderful mother she thinks I will someday become.

*sniff*

I wasn't lyin' 'bout her. : ) Happy Mother's Day!

D...is for detour

2006-05-09T17:23:00.000-04:00

I have not been writing well. Blame the ADD, new Oprah episodes, the slow, gradual murder of my very own brain cells (ooh...a martini sounds good ri--DAMMIT, see???)...whatever. My posts of late have been short, blurby, and boring. I started writing an emotionally and socially charged post today, and semi-recalled writing something about this in the past.

I checked the archives. Curiously, not there. Perchance I did not post it.

I checked my drafts and I was stunned to find no less than five completely written and edited posts that never saw the light of blog. I can see why I didn't post some of them. But, others? Weird. Maybe I was drunk. I blame Oprah! Ha. Anyway...my lazy, bad-writing ass is going back to the Cave of Unpublished Posts and chiseling out a tablet of wisdom from days of yore. And here is the first (appropriately timed for the upcoming celebration of all things Mom - send flowers, y'all)...

*****
M...is for mom
originally written on 9/6/2005

I am one.

Blank stares. *blink* *blink blink*

Okay, not really (man, nothin' phases you guys, does it?). I have not nor am I currently harboring any potential punkin-heads. Yet. Unless you count my friends. But we are talking fruit-of-my-womb (can the underwear jokes, y'all) (Hehe...I said underwear), and of those I have none. Children, not underwear. I have plenty of intimate apparel. (And I said underwear again.)

So, let's talk about my friends instead, otherwise this post would have stopped a sentence ago.

You wish it had? Well, stop reading then. Thank you.

HA! You're still reading! 'Ohmygod, whatinthefuckissheTALKINGabooooouut...'

My friends called me "Soccer Mom" in college. I didn't drive a minivan or have permed hair or frosted tips or anything like that. I was as big of a pot smoking slut as the next co-ed. Alas, the name was there, and oddly enough, fitting. I love taking care of people. It's what I do. I'm a nurturer, people. Goddammit. Now put this cigarette out and git yer purty little bee-hind over here. *scratch scratch*

The weekend spent on Long Island had everyone there calling me "Mom". Almost inadvertantly, to begin. But by the end of the weekend, the name had once again stuck. And, once again, it fit.

Let me just say, for the record and karmic progeny, my mom is the best and I had a really good example.

And I like to boss people around.

I guess I am thankful for being a good mom so far (peanuts and cotton candy and gold for the peanut gallery! And, no! You don't have to brush your teeth afterward!) and hopefully my kids someday won't hate me and tell their friends I suck. Or not. I mean, they can. Whatever. Won't matter to me, I'll be drunk anyway.

S...is for sweeps

2006-05-07T22:16:00.000-04:00

It's sweeps, y'all. Watch the networks pull out all the stops. It's kind of incredible. (I am going to attempt to avoid spoilers, but some things simply can not go without saying. So consider yourself warned.)

Medium. Molly Ringwald played a blind woman. It was kind of terrible. But, I watched. So, there's that. Actually, I don't think there was anything else on at the time. But still.

Grey's Anatomy. Meredith gets some. Bring it. And when did Chris O'Donnell get hot again? Cuz da-yum.

America's Next Top Model. Nnenna? NNENNA? Really??? You're kidding me, right? America's Next Top Confused, more like.

David Blaine. Um...does anybody care? I hope he drowns. Now THAT would be great television. First step to televised executions. *cue banjo picking*

Ellen. Tom Cruise. Armchair. Friday. 'Nuff said. We need some more "Cruis-azy" (copyright A*) fodder.

AND...

LOST. Just. I can't. WHAT??? I was screaming at my television. Screaming. Like it was hurting me. Seriously. What the fuck? The sex and the killing-off and the traitor. Ohmygod. Is it Wednesday yet? IS IT WEDNESDAY YET???

S...is for stretched

2006-05-03T23:59:00.000-04:00

Try not to get confused here. Cuz I am about to yank you around a bit in this post. Y'all are bright, attractive people, though, so I have faith that you can keep up.

I am stretched. Tight. And not in a good way. I have a full-time job, but I am not on salary. See, I am a Freelancer, which means I bill hours worked and that be it. I send my hours at the end of each month and my company sends me my Benjis. Well, theoretically. Somewhere in the middle of the transaction, however, things go amiss and I never seem to get paid on time.

Like right now.

And, thus, I am stretched. Like a malefactor on the rack, my joints are a-poppin' under the strain. I spent my last $5 on a 6" turkey Subway sub today - thank Trouble it were delish. For dinner tonight, I was nearly going to resort to frozen creamed spinach, Kashi Strawberry Fields cereal with water (or Sprite Zero, the bubbles might be fun), and applesauce. Someone needs to do some grocery shopping, but someone's paycheck did not show up yet. Hence.

I DID have $9 left on my credit card. That had possibilities written all over it. I took my little plastic meal ticket to my local grocery store (the one up the street with the yogurt that I like) and strolled the aisles, questing for the perfect $9-or-less meal. And I succeeded.

I came home with my foodstuffs and prepared myself a delectable meal you would all be absolutely shocked about. Chicken Alfredo with penne pasta and vegetables, italian bread brushed with pepperoncini infused olive oil then grilled, rubbed with garlic, and sprinkled with italian seasoning, roasted garlic and basil olive oil/raspberry balsamic vinegar dip, and a perfectly paired glass of Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.

The Lean Cuisine Chicken Alfredo Skillets, italian bread, and clove of garlic purchased this evening for exactly $8.53.

And she's got $.47 to spare, folks. Say it with me now...and I want hand gestures, too. *Cha-ching*

She can cook like Giada (hehe...one partially pre-made meal and I've created a monster) and knows how to stretch a buck. Now if only I could get my hamstrings to stretch as far, we'd be money. Pun totally intended.

W...is for why my life is awesome, part III

2006-05-01T12:41:00.000-04:00

Chillin' in the CPK.

W...is for waste

2006-04-29T17:15:00.000-04:00

Me. Last night. Wasted. It involved wine, vodka, then more wine and then macaroni-n-cheese.

And therefore today was a wasted day. My hungover ass didn't get out of bed until post-brunch time. Beautiful weather? Much-needed housekeeping? Any semblance of cultural or social activity? Wasted.

I did take out the trash. So, the day wasn't a total waste.

G...is for groceries

2006-04-28T11:59:00.000-04:00

There once was a time when I would go to a grocery store - nay, a Supermarket - wrangle free a cart, and cruise up and down the aisles, quietly air-guitarting along to the piped-in Journey ballad, painstakingly selecting just the right toilet paper and chicken breast patties. 'Twas a happy time, indeed. O' the elbow room.

Now, I need to go to no less than three different grocery stores and a produce cart just to get a handful of foodstuffs. Furreal, it's infuriating. Gristede's on the corner is the only store that carries my cat's food. But, the other Gristede's up the block has the organic food section with the yogurt and milk that I like. But, the produce there sucks, so I stop at the little produce man's cart to get avocados and grapes and the like. Whenever I get my groceries delivered, they come from Food Emporium, cuz they got the easy website to order from. My prescriptions come from CVS, which is also the only sensible place to get toiletries and air freshener refills.

Whoo! As far as posts go...this one is a real barnburner! Aren't you glad you finally got some piss-n'-vinegar outta' me after all this time?! Groceries. Hoo-yah! (sorry.)

Anyway, it'sa ree-dick-you-luss trying to gather one's sustainable items in this land we call New York. We have two Whole Foods in Manhattan, but I would have to take a cab with all my groceries and really? it's already hard enough to shell out all that hard-earned cash for shit that is going to disappear in short order anyway. And, after all that effort, I end up getting delivery or eating out more than half my meals in an average week.

So, don't be at all surprised if you ever find me wandering in a Supermarket *choirs of angels sing* near you someday flailing my elbows around in my vast personal space and wailing Journey at the top of my lungs. It'll be a brand new day.

2006-04-27T11:21:00.000-04:00

"If there's an empty space, just fill it with a line, that's what I like to do. Even if it's from another show." - Ron Albertson, Waiting for Guffman

E...is for endorsed by allison

2006-04-24T16:35:00.000-04:00

Elizabeth I on HBO. I caught the Premiere episode about halfway through last night and was immediately hooked. I can not wait to see next week's.

Walk the Line. I finally saw it. Brilliant. A million people have said a million things about this movie already, so I will just say "yeah. I agree."

Rain. I didn't want to leave my apartment all weekend anyway.

allison. Endorsed by my doctor...cuz I went for a checkup today and got a perfect bill of health. : )

C...is for Chapter Two

2006-04-18T14:12:00.000-04:00

When I started this blog, I was in love with a guy. He's not in love with me. Knowing this, I have done everything I can to move on from "Him". Somewhere in my heart was a secret. A wish. A tiny thread of hope. Secretly still in love with him. Wishing that he would love me back. Hope that we would eventually be together.

Those are all gone.

LIE. Big fat lie. I'm a liar. Sorry. They're not completely gone. I have tried to move on from him for a long time now. And I haven't done too good, y'all. I've been stuck like Band-aid brand. Mama always said you gotta' rip 'em off fast or it hurts more. Bright woman, my mom. Note to self - always listen to mom. Oh, and Oprah. Anyway, I am happy to report to you all that, even though it seems to have taken fucking forever, my hopes and wishes for a future with Him are fading. Vanishing. Disappearing. Though he will always occupy a little table in the back corner of my heart, someday the feelings will be gone completely. Starting now.

I am ready to turn the page. To start the next chapter...

Chapter Two

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined.
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned.

What does this mean? Oh! so! many things. It means moving on...for real this time. It means dating. I am dating! *the crowd gasps* (Just wait, people, it gets better). I have been open to dating and looking for someone to date all this time, but I haven't actually engaged in the activity in a while. But now I am. Engaging. In dating. A lot.

Staring at the blank page before you.
Open up the dirty window.
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find.

I went out with hottie bartender twice last week. And that's all there is to it. No labels. No expectations. Just dates. I am going with the flow - living in the moment (as cliche as that sounds). And, I am enjoying myself immensely.

Reaching for something in the distance, so close you can almost taste it.
Release your inhibitions, feel the rain on your skin.

I love having a man in my life again. The other morning, I woke up to find a strange arm sticking out from under my pillow. A fleeting moment of panic. A mental replay of the scene from The Evening Star when Shirley MacLaine fixes her hair and makeup in bed before Bill Paxton wakes up. A bashful grin when he rolled over and cuddled up behind me. He snored. We giggled at our messy hair. I made us coffee. We kissed goodbye.

Drench yourself in words unspoken.
Live your life with arms wide open.

It feels good to open up to someone new - without agenda or presumption. And I am staying open to new people that may come into my life, too. I had to close that last chapter so that Chapter Two could begin. I am thoroughly enjoying how this one is starting so far.

Today is when your book begins.
The rest is still unwritten...

H...is for Happy Easter

2006-04-11T17:57:00.000-04:00

I came home from the grocery store, opened my mailbox, and found an envelope inside. I love getting mail. I especially loved this piece of mail. It was from my nephew.

He made me a spongy, blue Easter cross. He also made me a crayon drawing of a flower and Pac-man. Not just any old Pac-man. No. He is action Pac-man - rolling in a ball, spinning in a circle. Awesome. And, I also got a picture of him in his soccer uniform. Such a handsome boy. I couldn't be more proud to be his Tia.

I don't celebrate Easter, but if I did, this one would be Happy.

T...is for Tasti D-Lite

2006-04-04T21:55:00.000-04:00

What self-respecting New York woman has not written a post about or including reference to this mecca of diet delishness. Really? None? Ah! One! Anywhoo...

I don't care if it is all-natural, organic, vegan, kosher, afghani, artificial hooha or what-the-fuck-ever. People are all "that shit is just nasty" and I'm all "Fuck the bullshit" because...

Cake Batter. With cookie dough topping.

...and a hush falls over the crowd. Yeah. Bu-ring it. Right to my mouth.

Tasti D-Lite? Deeelight, indeed.

A...is for anonymity

2006-04-03T15:00:00.000-04:00

When I started this blog, I wanted to remain anonymous. Not sure why it seemed so important, but I couldn't fathom publishing personal information, let alone pictures, of myself.

Bah.

And there, by the way, went my anonymity.

And this *pllllpppppttt* is how much I care.

Now.

I have met some of the people that read this blog. I don't write for them (hi, guys!), but I know that they read. They know what I look like. And what I sound like, for that matter. I sound exactly like I do on this blog, by the way. So, anonymity...plllppppt.

Now, peeps, before you fet any goofy idears, I ain't gonna' be puttin' my contact info up here er anything. Stalkers.

C...is for call

2006-03-30T13:45:00.000-05:00

And then, he calls.

And then, she feels like a complete ass for making such an effin' fuss.

And then, she freaks out completely while rehashing the entire conversation in her mind and realizing she must've sounded like a total lunatic on the phone with him.

And then, and takes half a Xanax to calm the fuck down already.

And giggles. Out loud. A lot.

And then, she calls her friends to tell them the news that HeCalledHeActuallyCalled and to beg them to talk her off the ledge with comfort and praises of sanity.

And then, she looks in the mirror and sees a confident woman smiling back at her. Well, hello there, little lady. Where ya' been hiding?

And then, she realizes she is totally talking to herself.

There may be some truth to that lunatic thing.

C...is for confidence

2006-03-29T12:28:00.000-05:00

I know some women. They are beautiful, smart, and kind. Awesome, awesome women with every reason to be confident.

And, yet, they never believe that "The Guy" is gonna' call.

Come on. You know what I am talking about. Any woman who has met or slept with a man and left with a "call me" or a "see ya" knows whereof I speak.

She meets The Guy at a bar or a party and they just click. Or, a friend thought The Guy would be perfect for her, so she sets them up. Things are great. There is chemistry. They do it (insert euphamism here). It's fun. It's sexy. Why shouldn't we do this again? Why wouldn't he call?

And then, he leaves.

And then, the million reasons why he wouldn't call come flooding in.

And then, the confidence rushes out like a sucker punch to the stomach. All the warm fuzzies from the night before are expelled in a wheeze.

Why do women torment themselves wondering if The Guy is going to call? The agony is in the NOT-knowing. It is said that sex is power, but I believe that knowledge is power. And without that, some women I know feel powerless.

And the other side to that question is - why don't men call, or why does it take them so long? The answer is unique to each situation and each guy, IknowIknow*pllpppt*. But, there must be some Universal truths amongst males (whosleepwithwomen, that is) about calling after sex. I have a theory that a man won't call a woman he is newly sleeping with just to chat, or just to say hi. I think that he waits until he has a reason to call her - a specific event to invite her to, etc. If he is interested at all that is.

Women are not powerless. No no no. *wagging finger ala Supremes* I think it would be ideal if the woman got The Guy's number and called him when she was ready. I think that men send very obvious signals and women would be well served to pay attention to them (i.e., NOT CALLING). I think that a woman should decide before sleeping with a man that she just met whether she is comfortable being a one-night stand.

Isn't it funny? Confidence is sexy. But sex can strip one's confidence. Now there's a catch 22 I can live without.

B...is for back in the saddle, again

2006-03-25T16:11:00.000-05:00

I am not one to kiss and tell (shut. it.), so the rest of this post is going to look something like this.

: )

W...is also for woops

2006-03-24T11:59:00.000-05:00

Guess I was a wee bit drunky-poo last night. And then I blogged. Woops.

It won't happen again.

Today.

W...is for wasted

2006-03-24T02:37:00.000-05:00

Meaning drunk. Which - lucky you - you get to perceive right now, and - lucky me - is a perfectably acceptable coping mechanism now-a-days.

Meaning time. Which was wasted wishing and hoping for something that was never to be. And which I spent thinking about Him and you had to read. For which I am sorry.

It won't happen again.

M...is for must love dogs, Part Two

2006-03-20T22:06:00.000-05:00

Okay, okay, okay. You want details? I will just say that my friend, Kristin, brought her hottie bartender out with us on Saturday night and I played kissy face with him. Because I am smooth like that. And that is pretty much the entire story. Did I just meet the father of my children? Probly not...but Oh Lawd! if I did my chirrens are gonna' be gigiddy-gorgeous.

If he be that hottt (and he IS), you are asking "why isn't he Future Ex-Husband #1?" Hm. Good question. Because I am kinda' psychIC (not "o", people) and I just know these things. Yell at me later. I will make out, etc. with him again and again, howevs. If for no other reason than to give you peeps something interesting to read.

*****
Did you see this movie? I did. And I...ahem...Ilikedit *ducks to avoid flying pastries* Dude, you just wasted perfectly decent baked goods. Don't think I won't eat that. Anyway, I have been in a major dating drought lately. On purpose. And I have really enjoyed being alone. Isolated. Cloistered. Like Diane Lane in Must Love Dogs. I can relate to this cheesy-online-dating-John-Cusack-en-pathetique-non-teen-chick flick. And like our hero and heroine - having nothing to do with capes or needles sticking out of our arms - it's time for me to get back in the saddle.

Saturday night was a great opening round. I spent 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu. Okay, really, it was more like 10 minutes with a bartender named Steven, but you get the point. I am ready to get back out there and find me some mens to date. Or just have fun. I don't exactly have a plan, but it feels like it's time.

*****
To start, social events are starting to pick up with the advent of Spring. My wingman, Stef, was here last weekend and we hit the town hard. Gave it a fat lip. She's moving here in May, at which time we will continue tearing this shit up. It was so nice to have a single girlfriend to go out with, for a change. We made the acquaintance of many Sirs, and each conveniently disappeared when necessary. She's hot and fun and single and she is one swell Sue.

Oh, and San Diego has the hottest firemen in the United States of ANYWHERE - per the entire bar full of them that she and I waded into on St. Patty's Day.

*****
Today, I thought it would be fun to peruse some online dating sites. Yahoo Personals, to be precise. Okay, either there are a plethora of Mr. Wrongs out there, or I am uber-picky. Probably both. But. Really. Really? Or, as Dan would say...Seriously. Seriously? Seriously.

Anyway, anyone who has ever searched on a personals site knows what I am speaking of. "Discerning Gentleman seeks Charming Lady." Bullshit - neither of those actually exist. "Teddy bear looking to cuddle." Which really means fatty looking for NSA hook-up. "Insert witty headline here." Enough said. "Clearance Item." Obviously.

*ding* I actually found an intriguing one. Hmm...not psycho-y sounding. That's a plus. Funny. Very good. No children. Step in the right direction. 5' 8"???

*scroll down* "What I'm looking for...Height: 5'2" - 5'7"."

Crap. I am 5'10".

*back to search results*

This happened to me two times. The only two guys even remotely interesting to me were both shortys. Now, I have no problem with shortys (obviously, given the incredibly demeaning nickname I have given unto them). I just can't date 'em. Sorry, guys, but I can't look down to kiss you. Put your head on my shoulder? It's just not natural.

Oh my god. Is this why men don't approach me/date me? Am I too tall? It would make sense, I suppose. I don't approach shortys. Aw, crap. I think I have a lot going for me...like big boobs. (Well? It's true.) But I am a sasquatch in comparison to most women. Someone tell me this isn't the big ugly mole of my dating attributes. Shit.

Y'all get back to me on that, and in the meantime I am going to avoid the Personals like the plague until I get tipsy and want a good laugh. Just FYI.

*****
So...anyway. Me. Tall. And dating. Or just makin' out. Whatevs. Won't this be fun!?!

B...is for back in the saddle

2006-03-19T18:13:00.000-05:00

I

made

out

with

a

very

very

hot

man

last

night.

Giddyup.

M...is for must love dogs, Part One

2006-03-14T08:09:00.000-05:00

PART ONE

To live in my apartment / building / neighborhood, you MUST LOVE DOGS. Must. Or be heavily medicated. Or move. Because, the dogs? Run this neighborhood. They rule. And I don't even have a dog.

At 9:00 am every morning (and we all know what a delightful morning person I am) Yippee the WonderPup winds up and lets loose his particular ear-piercing, constant, battery-operated YIP! and does. not. stop. EVAR. Today, I clocked 12 minutes of constant, uninterrupted barking. That would make it 9:12am. You can imagine how chipper I musta' been, hm? I will find a way to make this life livable once again, and thus, I am afraid Blade the Dog Silencer must surface from her lair and spring to action.

See, I have had dog problems in the past. Twice now, I have confronted my neighbors - first Howler Gigantor in the backyard was driving some little Polish woman across the way to yelp herself, and the rest of us, to death. I wished she would fall out her fucking window, but she just yelled - wait. That really isn't the right word for it. Okay. Pinch your nose, drink a half a bottle of vodka, spend 16 years in either Venezuela or Poland, and then yell as shrilly as you possibly can "Shod oppa you dog!" a million and four times.

Gigantor's owners were very nice and apologetic. Thank goddess, because they are Russian and could easily make me gone. Me no likey trunk space.

Then, I had to bitch at the new girl who lives downstairs with Squealer the Amazing RatDog. She was also really cool about it, and apologized profusely. Flashbacks of when Poundy used to live below me led me to redact my complaint, and I wrote her a note of apology myself. She can't control her fucking dog any more than I can. But, something has worked because Squealy has been muted as of late.

Two for two. *fist pump*

And now, there is Yelpy. *makes slicing gesture across throat* Something. must. be. done. What am I? Fucking neighborhood community servant? Alas, I must do my duty to my and silence this menace. My sister suggested slipping a Benadryl into a dog treat and throwing it in the window. Hehe. She's awesome. But, I fear litigation. So, instead I will slip myself into my Blade armor once more, and serve those motherfucking doggie doters with notice.

Here ye, here ye! Shut your f'n dog up or I will call your f'n landlord! *thrusts elbow into air, shoots menacing glare through hair-shrouded laser-beam eyes, and backs away stealthily*

This'll be the hat trick, folks. Or puppicide. Anybody wanna' make odds?

A...is for any given Sunday

2006-03-13T00:40:00.000-05:00

On this given Sunday, I took.

I took the libery of lazing in bed all morning, listening to and watching the rain outside.

I can eat anything I want on Sunday, so I chanced to partake in a cappucino (not skim, thankyouverymuch) and croissant.

Took the liberty of spending my week's allowance on alcohol and then the freedom to drink it. A lot of it.

Took the time to make myself a boatload of queso dip and plenty more to eat it. A lot of it.

On this given Sunday, I took. Selfish bastard.

Indeed.

Every day should be Sunday.