Do you ever have one of those really sappy days where every song on the radio seems to be singing straight to your heart? that's me everyday. i've always been a big fan of good music and good lyrics as a way to cope with real life. Lately however, my office has been listening to a lite rock station-- that's right, not even LIGHT rock, but lite. and you all know what i'm talking about. its been bad. real bad. plus its probably 'that time of the month' but who's counting.
i've been a roller coaster of emotions as all of these songs seem to have some kind of personal connection to my life.
"don't want to be all by myself..." no. as a matter of fact celine, i don't.
"HOW DO I GET YOU ALONE?" Heart, I don't know either. but if i find out, i'll tell you and vice versa.
"Well you're a real tough cookie with a long history. of breaking little hearts like the one in me." so fuck you. *note to self. try to learn this song for karaoke. (this note is actually written on a prescription pad on my desk)
"Cus when you're fifteen and someone tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them." Taylor. how do i tell you that the next 10 years aren't gonna get any easier.
"He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich." Ok. this one i don't really understand let alone relate to, but i sure do like it. and every time i hear it i hope the next song played is "she don't eat meat but she sure likes the bone." it very rarely is.
Its gotten so bad that there have been times that i've thought "that would be the PERFECT song to sing to 'him' and win him over!!! I'll just learn it on the piano, its right in my range blah blah blah..." Ok. Now, i'm not really sure what my problem is when it comes to making boys date me, but i'm pretty sure its not a lack of making them listen to me play Alicia Keys or Mariah Carey on my keyboard as they sit on my bed and listen. And i'm pretty sure my biggest problem when it comes to my current romantic relationships (or lack there of) is getting boys to my bed in the first place. *Note to self, if a boy is interested in you, don't fuck it up with REO Speedwagon. will somebody text me that tomorrow? I'm away from my desk.
this is all sappy, emotional bull shit that is hopefully at least somewhat amusing, possibly even a little relatable. I hope you're laughing at me a little. the next part may not be funny. I know its not to me. All this stupid sappy romance shit has me in a funk. again. still?... off and on for the past 25 years. This next part is probably a little too sappy for even me to share on my blog. but i've had a couple beers and i've been thinking about it all day (see! more lyric association Sara Bareillis "One too many drinks tonight and i miss you like you were mine). Plus its my blog, i can write whatever i want. if you don't like it you can stop following.
don't stop following i love every single one of you. If you wanna come over some time i have some peter cetara songs i want to play for you on my keyboard.
(maybe... maybe... i'll post song lyrics of actual good songs that i like, too. I think i have good taste in music, as i'm sure most people do, but for real, i think i do. not that men at work isn't a noteworthy, reputable musical group.)
Serious. Do you know what song repeatedly breaks my heart? and gives me hope all at the same time? its been my number one favorite song for about 10 years now. ok enough with the clues, i'm sick of this game. i'm just gonna tell you. 'Anna Begins' by the Counting Crows. Fucking love that song. I think it is the most honest view on falling in love ever. cus its not all pots of gold at the end of the rainbow and unicorns and female orgasms and other mythological ideals. it sucks sometimes. and its scary as hell. This is possibly the only piece of evidence that makes me believe that men fall in love. Like, really FALL IN LOVE the way a young girl always dreams of. This and probably my sister's husband Adam. he seems pretty wonderful. (ok and a few conversations lately with Drew and Chris... but very recently. for 9 of the past 10 years this was all i had). Let's take a look at some of the lyrics. in no particular order. but mostly the order they appear in the song.
"If it's love," she said, "then we're gonna have to think about the consequences." But she can't stop shaking and I can't stop touching her
everyone has had that dreaded/desired moment.
every hates/loves it.
It does not bother me to say this isn't love.
Because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love.
And I guess I'm gonna have to live with that.
But I'm sure there's something in a shade of grey,
Or something in between
I think that is true.
It seems like I should say, "As long as this is love..."
But it's not all that easy
No, Adam Duritz. No it is not. there's a fuckload to think about.
This time when kindness falls like rain
It washes me away. And Anna begins to change my mind.
it'll happen to the best of us.
She's talking in her sleep.
It's keeping me awake. And Anna begins to toss and turn.
And every word is nonsense but I understand
ugh. yeah. so romantic in an honest way. (i don't even know what that means but i'm standing by it).
Oh lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing.
I KNOW, RIGHT!?!?! Fuck That Shit I Don't Need I t/Its All I Ever Really Want In Life. What i like about his use of this lyric (its repeated for those of you who don't know the song) is sometimes it sounds like he's talking about being scared about being in love with her, but at the end it sounds like he's scared of losing her. ugh. beautiful.
If you don't know this song, download it. now. i'll give you the $.99.
My second favorite song is "Just Like Heaven" by The Cure. You can download that one on your own dime.
Alright. I'm done being sappy. My next entry will be much more cheerful i promise (i have some good stories about some rando's on the train). Right now i need to retire to my bedroom. I've got some Whitney Houston and Ryan Adams jams that could use a little work.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Is it just me or does my bed room smell like animal carcus?
I don't know if i'm just being paranoid. but i think it does. on Friday, while getting ready for work, i found a dead mouse on my floor. In my head, the mouse was never in our apartment until its last moments on earth when it decided to come inside and curl up next to my slipper for a comfortable transition into mouse heaven. Who can blame it? as much as i would prefer to not have a dead mouse in my room, the humanitarian in me is willing to honor its last wishes.
the boys, on the other hand, are pretty sure stella killed it and brought it into my room as a gift. i am completely aware that this is a natural, normal thing for cats to do, and have been nervous about the idea of this happening since i brought her into this apartment (we had a pretty severe problem with the mice last winter). I've even called my dad to ask what to do if she brings me a dead mouse. "i don't know Case, you'll probably have to clean it up, or get one of your roommates to help you." I guess that's a pretty reasonable answer. I do want to say if this is true, if she did kill a mouse as a gift for me, i'm at least glad she put it on my floor and not in my bed. i don't know if i would have been able to recover from that. I would also like to say to stella... i prefer chocolate and jewelry. but i guess its the thought that counts.
Anyway... i found this mouse, and i was so scared and freaked out about what to do that i literally just stared at it for a good 7 minutes, making me late to work. I knew i couldn't pick it up myself, but i also knew i was too nice of a roommate to wake the boys up at 8:30 to pick up a dead mouse. BUT i didn't want stella to find it (still under the assumption that it died of natural causes). Hence the 7 minute freak out... thats a lot to think about. I ended up just puttin my slipper over the mouse and sending the boys a text informing them that if they took care of this mouse before i got home from work i would do anything for them. I meant it. i can't think of a single thing i wouldn't in order to NOT pick up a dead mouse. yes... even that.
I got home from work, quickly got changed for an evening out. then hyperventilated for a quick second when i remembered about the mouse... but it wasn't there. thank god. I went into the kitchen, and Roger even double checked with me, "Did someone take care of that mouse for you?" "YES. thank god. i'm just a little nervous about what i'm gonna have to do in return."
HOWEVER. the next day, there was a sudden twist of fate. Jared Matt and I were setting up to paint, and Jared said "hey did you clean that mouse out of your room?" I said "no i thought you did" he informed me that he had not. He couldn't find it. Matt told me he had checked my room when he got home and there wasn't a mouse so he assumed someone else took care of it. I thought jared was just trying to fuck with me. But after enough "don't fuck with me jared, for real. i might cry"s he eventually convinced me that he in fact looked under the green slipper, looked around my room, couldn't find any dead animals. so this means no one picked it up. The only conclusion was that stella ate it. my world pretty much crumbled at this thought. I hate mice. i love stella. how was i supposed to still cuddle with her if i knew she ate one? i reverted into a five year old asking a million questions trying my best to wrap my head around just HOW this could happen. Luckily, the boys were there to help me out.
"did she eat the bones?" yes. Jared told me that she would eventually cough up the bones and fur in a little pellet like an owl. and that it would probably in my bed. i'm gonna assume this isn't true. sometimes its really hard to tell with him. For the record, he didn't have to fuck with me at all. i was verge of tears this entire time. and i stood motionless in the living room with my shoulders to my ears and my arms wrapped around my stomach for the entire conversation.
"is she gonna get sick? if it just died naturally it was probably toxic" Apparently cats have an amazing immune system and she'll be fine. plus she probably killed it in the first place.
"no, i dont think she did. it wasn't bloody at all" apparently, yes, she killed it, then licked its wounds to clean it. is that true? i still don't know. seems more probable then owl pellets. but its so gross.
"what if she tries to lick my face?" I was reminded that she also licks her own asshole, so i shouldn't have a problem with a little mouse blood. and again with the immune system, her mouth is cleaner than my mouth, multiple inappropriate jokes about where my mouth had been, etc etc.
"What if she gets mouse aids. there's already a chance she has feline aids from her promiscuous alley cat days this summer." they informed me that there's no such thing as mouse aids. admittedly, i knew that. but still. the question needed to be asked.
"most importantly, do you think there's more mice?" I've learned that there's a pretty good chance of this. We do live on the first floor in an older building in brooklyn. and we had mice last year around this time. I was really hoping that stella's presence in the apartment alone would be enough to keep the mice away. I thought it was working. I haven't seen or heard a single mouse thus far. We also sealed the hole under my heating vent that we think they were getting through and still have mouse traps in prime mouse spots in the apt. And we have an exterminator come to our apt once a month... but he was pretty much useless last year.
"but... i don't want her to have eaten a mouse." the boys apologized, but there was really nothing we could do about that at this point. not a very satisfying answer.
"Am i a bad mom for not taking care of it that morning? what do i even do if i find a mouse in the future so she doesn't eat it? i don't think i would even know where to start. do i use a paper towel? where do i put it? it seems too big to flush, do i just throw it away? what is it going to feel like in my hand? can you feel its bones and stuff?" I can use a plastic bag to pick it up. i throw it in the trash. it will feel gross. its more squishy and gooey than bony, depending on how long its been dead. You've got to be fucking kidding me.
I was constantly reminded to settle down because it was a part of nature. but i don't care. its gross. I was also reminded that it wasn't a big deal and that everything was going to be fine. but i wasn't so sure of that.
Anyway, the 'good' news is that stella did not eat the mouse. she buried it in a pile of laundry on my floor. i found it today...monday...3 days after the initial mouse siting... cleaning my room. Luckily, Matt was home and could help me out... but was on the phone so i had to hyperventilate in the living room for about 5 minutes til he was done. Matt, wandering around the living room when he was done on the phone, asked "Wait... what was i doing?" Mouse. are you kidding? how could you forget. mouse. there's a dead mouse on my floor. its a big deal. "where is it?" On my floor right next to my bed... when you walk in its on the right kinda by my book shelf in the middle of the floor. you'll see it. its a dead mouse. "... are you not going in your room until its gone?" absolutely not. "is that why you've been sitting awkwardly on the couch staring at me for ten minutes?" that is correct.
He took care of it. i closed my eyes as he walked into the living room with the bag... i don't know why, i had already seen the mouse multiple times, its not like seeing the plastic bag it was in would have been any worse.
Now i know i will never be able to live alone. yes, i did live alone my senior of college, but that was before i knew just how terrified of mice i am... no that's not true... i've always known. My boyfriend at the time had a mouse in his apartment that year. one time i was over there and he ran his hand up my arm and i started crying. real tears. "Casey! we just saw the mouse run into the bathroom. how could you possibly think that was real?" "I just really don't like mice." that's not an answer, for the record. but again... i'm 5. From then on I made him check the bedroom and shove towels under the crack of his door before i slept over.
Seriously. i don't know what i would do without my roommates. picking up dead animals, putting up with me crying and asking way too many questions about the circle of life. Props to you, boys.
now i'm sitting in my bedroom convinced that my room still smells like dead animal. i cleaned. and fabreezed. i'm probably, hopefully just paranoid. is it asking too much to wake the boys up at 3am to come smell my room? yes. i'm fine. just paranoid. right? and whatever it is that i keep seeing out of the corner of my eye that looks like its running across my room, but disappears when i turn my head... thats probably my imagination. as is whatever i keep feeling running up my leg.
well... real live mouse or not... i work in the morning and need to find a way to get some sleep. writing about mice is not gonna help.
stella just jumped on my lap. she better keep her filthy mouse paws away from my face tonight. thats all i'm sayin.
the boys, on the other hand, are pretty sure stella killed it and brought it into my room as a gift. i am completely aware that this is a natural, normal thing for cats to do, and have been nervous about the idea of this happening since i brought her into this apartment (we had a pretty severe problem with the mice last winter). I've even called my dad to ask what to do if she brings me a dead mouse. "i don't know Case, you'll probably have to clean it up, or get one of your roommates to help you." I guess that's a pretty reasonable answer. I do want to say if this is true, if she did kill a mouse as a gift for me, i'm at least glad she put it on my floor and not in my bed. i don't know if i would have been able to recover from that. I would also like to say to stella... i prefer chocolate and jewelry. but i guess its the thought that counts.
Anyway... i found this mouse, and i was so scared and freaked out about what to do that i literally just stared at it for a good 7 minutes, making me late to work. I knew i couldn't pick it up myself, but i also knew i was too nice of a roommate to wake the boys up at 8:30 to pick up a dead mouse. BUT i didn't want stella to find it (still under the assumption that it died of natural causes). Hence the 7 minute freak out... thats a lot to think about. I ended up just puttin my slipper over the mouse and sending the boys a text informing them that if they took care of this mouse before i got home from work i would do anything for them. I meant it. i can't think of a single thing i wouldn't in order to NOT pick up a dead mouse. yes... even that.
I got home from work, quickly got changed for an evening out. then hyperventilated for a quick second when i remembered about the mouse... but it wasn't there. thank god. I went into the kitchen, and Roger even double checked with me, "Did someone take care of that mouse for you?" "YES. thank god. i'm just a little nervous about what i'm gonna have to do in return."
HOWEVER. the next day, there was a sudden twist of fate. Jared Matt and I were setting up to paint, and Jared said "hey did you clean that mouse out of your room?" I said "no i thought you did" he informed me that he had not. He couldn't find it. Matt told me he had checked my room when he got home and there wasn't a mouse so he assumed someone else took care of it. I thought jared was just trying to fuck with me. But after enough "don't fuck with me jared, for real. i might cry"s he eventually convinced me that he in fact looked under the green slipper, looked around my room, couldn't find any dead animals. so this means no one picked it up. The only conclusion was that stella ate it. my world pretty much crumbled at this thought. I hate mice. i love stella. how was i supposed to still cuddle with her if i knew she ate one? i reverted into a five year old asking a million questions trying my best to wrap my head around just HOW this could happen. Luckily, the boys were there to help me out.
"did she eat the bones?" yes. Jared told me that she would eventually cough up the bones and fur in a little pellet like an owl. and that it would probably in my bed. i'm gonna assume this isn't true. sometimes its really hard to tell with him. For the record, he didn't have to fuck with me at all. i was verge of tears this entire time. and i stood motionless in the living room with my shoulders to my ears and my arms wrapped around my stomach for the entire conversation.
"is she gonna get sick? if it just died naturally it was probably toxic" Apparently cats have an amazing immune system and she'll be fine. plus she probably killed it in the first place.
"no, i dont think she did. it wasn't bloody at all" apparently, yes, she killed it, then licked its wounds to clean it. is that true? i still don't know. seems more probable then owl pellets. but its so gross.
"what if she tries to lick my face?" I was reminded that she also licks her own asshole, so i shouldn't have a problem with a little mouse blood. and again with the immune system, her mouth is cleaner than my mouth, multiple inappropriate jokes about where my mouth had been, etc etc.
"What if she gets mouse aids. there's already a chance she has feline aids from her promiscuous alley cat days this summer." they informed me that there's no such thing as mouse aids. admittedly, i knew that. but still. the question needed to be asked.
"most importantly, do you think there's more mice?" I've learned that there's a pretty good chance of this. We do live on the first floor in an older building in brooklyn. and we had mice last year around this time. I was really hoping that stella's presence in the apartment alone would be enough to keep the mice away. I thought it was working. I haven't seen or heard a single mouse thus far. We also sealed the hole under my heating vent that we think they were getting through and still have mouse traps in prime mouse spots in the apt. And we have an exterminator come to our apt once a month... but he was pretty much useless last year.
"but... i don't want her to have eaten a mouse." the boys apologized, but there was really nothing we could do about that at this point. not a very satisfying answer.
"Am i a bad mom for not taking care of it that morning? what do i even do if i find a mouse in the future so she doesn't eat it? i don't think i would even know where to start. do i use a paper towel? where do i put it? it seems too big to flush, do i just throw it away? what is it going to feel like in my hand? can you feel its bones and stuff?" I can use a plastic bag to pick it up. i throw it in the trash. it will feel gross. its more squishy and gooey than bony, depending on how long its been dead. You've got to be fucking kidding me.
I was constantly reminded to settle down because it was a part of nature. but i don't care. its gross. I was also reminded that it wasn't a big deal and that everything was going to be fine. but i wasn't so sure of that.
Anyway, the 'good' news is that stella did not eat the mouse. she buried it in a pile of laundry on my floor. i found it today...monday...3 days after the initial mouse siting... cleaning my room. Luckily, Matt was home and could help me out... but was on the phone so i had to hyperventilate in the living room for about 5 minutes til he was done. Matt, wandering around the living room when he was done on the phone, asked "Wait... what was i doing?" Mouse. are you kidding? how could you forget. mouse. there's a dead mouse on my floor. its a big deal. "where is it?" On my floor right next to my bed... when you walk in its on the right kinda by my book shelf in the middle of the floor. you'll see it. its a dead mouse. "... are you not going in your room until its gone?" absolutely not. "is that why you've been sitting awkwardly on the couch staring at me for ten minutes?" that is correct.
He took care of it. i closed my eyes as he walked into the living room with the bag... i don't know why, i had already seen the mouse multiple times, its not like seeing the plastic bag it was in would have been any worse.
Now i know i will never be able to live alone. yes, i did live alone my senior of college, but that was before i knew just how terrified of mice i am... no that's not true... i've always known. My boyfriend at the time had a mouse in his apartment that year. one time i was over there and he ran his hand up my arm and i started crying. real tears. "Casey! we just saw the mouse run into the bathroom. how could you possibly think that was real?" "I just really don't like mice." that's not an answer, for the record. but again... i'm 5. From then on I made him check the bedroom and shove towels under the crack of his door before i slept over.
Seriously. i don't know what i would do without my roommates. picking up dead animals, putting up with me crying and asking way too many questions about the circle of life. Props to you, boys.
now i'm sitting in my bedroom convinced that my room still smells like dead animal. i cleaned. and fabreezed. i'm probably, hopefully just paranoid. is it asking too much to wake the boys up at 3am to come smell my room? yes. i'm fine. just paranoid. right? and whatever it is that i keep seeing out of the corner of my eye that looks like its running across my room, but disappears when i turn my head... thats probably my imagination. as is whatever i keep feeling running up my leg.
well... real live mouse or not... i work in the morning and need to find a way to get some sleep. writing about mice is not gonna help.
stella just jumped on my lap. she better keep her filthy mouse paws away from my face tonight. thats all i'm sayin.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Emily Part duex
I know... part 2 SO soon after part one?!?! but I thought since kelly kind of spoiled the next TWO stories on my "emily" list... i may as well just pound those out right now.
But first of all, an addition to this segment. Emily invented a game called "subtle ugly" where you take pictures of yourself being... well... subtly ugly. A great game to play with family and friends. Especially when the family and friends are too polite to call you out on fucking up their pictures on purpose. She also loves to take pictures on my camera that aren't so subtle. I will start every Segment of my Emily stories with one of these pictures.
Emily, who is notably NOT following my blog even though I've told her about it multiple times, was once taking a summer class at I think Oakland Community College or Oakland University. It was a relatively small class, and on the first day, the professor was doing the cheesy 'get to know your classmates' games college professors should really never do. One of the questions asked was "Is anyone here not from Michigan?" Emily raised her hand. When asked where she was from, she said "The United States of America." for absolutely no reason. She did live in Michigan, and although she was born in Wisconsin has never been one of those "oh.. i'm not FROM michigan" people. She just got confused by the question.
During a sign language class, everyone had to sign their name in front of the class on the first day. She signed her name as Emma. She came home and was kinda laughing as she told me that. I asked her why she would do that and tried to tell her that Emma wasn't really a nick name for Emily... its a completely different name. She said that she knew that, but wanted to go by Emma for a while. what?
Speaking of Emily not knowing her name... Once as we were driving through Colorado, i want to say possibly up Pike's Peak, the air was getting a little thin, we were all feeling a little loopy, and Emily said "Wow, i'm like Amelia Delirious up here" we asked who Amelia Delirious was, and she said it was her. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about naming your delirious alter ego, but I'm not sure if she knows her name is EMILY.
**side note** My alter ego is called Sunglasses Casey. Basically i have a couple drinks, i put on my sunglasses and i think i'm invincible and hilarious. A risky combination. She actually hasn't been around too much lately. i might have to invite her out sometime soon.
Back to Emily and the Rocky Mountains. Our older sister Kelly lived in Denver, and Em and I of course visited her as often as possible because Denver is amazing. on one of our first trips, kelly being the amazing host that she is took us EVERYWHERE. We camped in Crested Butte (aka crusty butt), drove through Vail even though none of us ski, went to Red Rocks Amphitheater, Garden of the Gods, the Continental divide, we even saw a Rockies game. Emily, on one of our last days there, informed us that everything we had done that week had been a lot of fun and was really pretty, but wanted to know when we were gonna go see the Rocky Mountains. we asked her what she meant. She said "well, as long as we're all the way out in Colorado, I'd like to see the Rocky Mountains." We informed her that we had been in the Rocky Mountains for the entire visit. This is it... look around you, sweetheart. "OH! its like... all of these mountains?" did she think it was just one? had she never seen a map of the United States? "Yes. Why do you think we've been listening to 'Rocky Mountian High' everytime we get in the car?" to which she replied "ah... thats what he's saying. i thought it was 'Like a Mountain High.'"
Also on that trip, one of my all time favorite Emily moments occurred. We were in Kelly's car. I was sitting shot gun. 17 year old Emily in the back seat says "Guys... do ever think about elephants and just (voice cracks a little) get (voice quivering even more) so sad?!?" I look back and Emily is balling. She never really explained why elephants make her sad. Andy got her a black and white picture for Christmas of an elephant sitting down and a little kid sitting next to it with his arm around the elephant. Emily had to excuse herself from the room, which she later told us was because she was crying.
I would pay anything to have any of these things on tape so you could see how just how innocent and earnest she is in these moments. I feel like in writing she may just come off as a dumb blond, but i can't stress enough that she is not. I would settle a picture of my face as these moments occur. I'm sure its priceless.
Alright.. that's enough for one night. don't want to give too much away at once... gots to keep you hungry for more :)
But first of all, an addition to this segment. Emily invented a game called "subtle ugly" where you take pictures of yourself being... well... subtly ugly. A great game to play with family and friends. Especially when the family and friends are too polite to call you out on fucking up their pictures on purpose. She also loves to take pictures on my camera that aren't so subtle. I will start every Segment of my Emily stories with one of these pictures.
 |
| From HI emily! |
Emily, who is notably NOT following my blog even though I've told her about it multiple times, was once taking a summer class at I think Oakland Community College or Oakland University. It was a relatively small class, and on the first day, the professor was doing the cheesy 'get to know your classmates' games college professors should really never do. One of the questions asked was "Is anyone here not from Michigan?" Emily raised her hand. When asked where she was from, she said "The United States of America." for absolutely no reason. She did live in Michigan, and although she was born in Wisconsin has never been one of those "oh.. i'm not FROM michigan" people. She just got confused by the question.
During a sign language class, everyone had to sign their name in front of the class on the first day. She signed her name as Emma. She came home and was kinda laughing as she told me that. I asked her why she would do that and tried to tell her that Emma wasn't really a nick name for Emily... its a completely different name. She said that she knew that, but wanted to go by Emma for a while. what?
Speaking of Emily not knowing her name... Once as we were driving through Colorado, i want to say possibly up Pike's Peak, the air was getting a little thin, we were all feeling a little loopy, and Emily said "Wow, i'm like Amelia Delirious up here" we asked who Amelia Delirious was, and she said it was her. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about naming your delirious alter ego, but I'm not sure if she knows her name is EMILY.
**side note** My alter ego is called Sunglasses Casey. Basically i have a couple drinks, i put on my sunglasses and i think i'm invincible and hilarious. A risky combination. She actually hasn't been around too much lately. i might have to invite her out sometime soon.
Back to Emily and the Rocky Mountains. Our older sister Kelly lived in Denver, and Em and I of course visited her as often as possible because Denver is amazing. on one of our first trips, kelly being the amazing host that she is took us EVERYWHERE. We camped in Crested Butte (aka crusty butt), drove through Vail even though none of us ski, went to Red Rocks Amphitheater, Garden of the Gods, the Continental divide, we even saw a Rockies game. Emily, on one of our last days there, informed us that everything we had done that week had been a lot of fun and was really pretty, but wanted to know when we were gonna go see the Rocky Mountains. we asked her what she meant. She said "well, as long as we're all the way out in Colorado, I'd like to see the Rocky Mountains." We informed her that we had been in the Rocky Mountains for the entire visit. This is it... look around you, sweetheart. "OH! its like... all of these mountains?" did she think it was just one? had she never seen a map of the United States? "Yes. Why do you think we've been listening to 'Rocky Mountian High' everytime we get in the car?" to which she replied "ah... thats what he's saying. i thought it was 'Like a Mountain High.'"
Also on that trip, one of my all time favorite Emily moments occurred. We were in Kelly's car. I was sitting shot gun. 17 year old Emily in the back seat says "Guys... do ever think about elephants and just (voice cracks a little) get (voice quivering even more) so sad?!?" I look back and Emily is balling. She never really explained why elephants make her sad. Andy got her a black and white picture for Christmas of an elephant sitting down and a little kid sitting next to it with his arm around the elephant. Emily had to excuse herself from the room, which she later told us was because she was crying.
I would pay anything to have any of these things on tape so you could see how just how innocent and earnest she is in these moments. I feel like in writing she may just come off as a dumb blond, but i can't stress enough that she is not. I would settle a picture of my face as these moments occur. I'm sure its priceless.
Alright.. that's enough for one night. don't want to give too much away at once... gots to keep you hungry for more :)
New Headshots
Photographer Roger Wingfield
OK... everyone vote!
(note: these have not been photoshopped at all, so disregard the zit between my eyebrows and the fact that in the blue turtleneck it looks like my head is floating. those things will be fixed).
OK... everyone vote!
(note: these have not been photoshopped at all, so disregard the zit between my eyebrows and the fact that in the blue turtleneck it looks like my head is floating. those things will be fixed).
do you brush your teeth before you kiss
I chipped my tooth this weekend drinking a bottle of bud light. just trying to keep it classy. now i have to go to the dentist. which i hate. i wish i could go drunk, but multiple people have told me that's not allowed. shit.
Not only does the dentist specifically make me VERY anxious, but in general i don't like going to any doctor's office alone. I become a clingy little baby when i have to go to the doctor. Even in college i made a friend go with me to every doctor's appointment i had. I even had bridget come with me to the gyno once (I made her wait in the waiting room... i'm not a total freak). thanks for that bridge. Sharriese has taken me to the urgent care center on 2 separate occasions. Ashley and Jen took me to the ER once... which wasn't so much me being a baby, but me being physically unable to walk down the stairs because i was so dehydrated from the flu. Jen also watched the laser surgery i had on my foot. Jimmy dealt with me being a whiny little baby in the waiting room, and during the examination, and during the X-rays for what turned out to be a bruised rib (a classical acting injury). Wow. i guess i'm kind of a high maintenance friend. Thanks to everyone for putting up with me. I suppose now that i'm 25 and i live in a city with public transportation up the wazoo, and am not SICK, it would be silly to ask someone to go sit at the dentist while i get my tooth fixed. but if someone would just so happen to offer.....
Yesterday we spent the entire day (well... starting at 4pm) painting our apartment. it looks soooooo good. even with our furniture in the middle of our floor and painting supplies all over the place, it somehow looked cleaner. also, clearly, the four of us staying up til god knows when to paint was a blast. Especially when jared and i got a little high from the chalkboard spray paint fumes. those boys never cease to surprise me. and they always know how to make me laugh. I'm so lucky to have them :). By the way... BIG things are in the works for the new and improved 86.3 The Groove. The apartment renovation is the first of many exciting things for the next few months. you should all be very excited.
I just googled "how to clean a hardwood floor" and the article i clicked on had this picture...
Call me crazy, but if i were going to be writing an article about hardwood floors, and were going to make an effort to post a picture, i might take that extra step and find a picture of a hardwood floor.
Our cable is out. I wanted to watch the Jets game (a little) and the Golden Globes (a lot). I'll probably write a few more blog posts tonight because i have nothing else today. well... i could clean my room. but that doesn't sound like fun. Will you judge me if i write multiple blog entries in one day? Should i be spending my weekends doing something other than blogging all day? I should actually be working on my screen play. I think writing this blog has actually made me a less productive writer. Now i just think of funny little short stories and may never be able to write a feature length film ever again. plus my screenplay is a drama about a doomed relationship, and i'm just not in the mood to think about that for more than 5 minutes at a time. I guess i should also be working on the LISTS of short films in have ideas for but nothing written yet... but i'll probably just write my blog.
Tim, this blog post title reminds me of your segment "do you ever feel self conscious eating a banana." Remember when i thought the picture you use for that was me? and was so confused as to how you had it? I'm so smart. Its actually a Damien Rice lyric. props to him.
Not only does the dentist specifically make me VERY anxious, but in general i don't like going to any doctor's office alone. I become a clingy little baby when i have to go to the doctor. Even in college i made a friend go with me to every doctor's appointment i had. I even had bridget come with me to the gyno once (I made her wait in the waiting room... i'm not a total freak). thanks for that bridge. Sharriese has taken me to the urgent care center on 2 separate occasions. Ashley and Jen took me to the ER once... which wasn't so much me being a baby, but me being physically unable to walk down the stairs because i was so dehydrated from the flu. Jen also watched the laser surgery i had on my foot. Jimmy dealt with me being a whiny little baby in the waiting room, and during the examination, and during the X-rays for what turned out to be a bruised rib (a classical acting injury). Wow. i guess i'm kind of a high maintenance friend. Thanks to everyone for putting up with me. I suppose now that i'm 25 and i live in a city with public transportation up the wazoo, and am not SICK, it would be silly to ask someone to go sit at the dentist while i get my tooth fixed. but if someone would just so happen to offer.....
Yesterday we spent the entire day (well... starting at 4pm) painting our apartment. it looks soooooo good. even with our furniture in the middle of our floor and painting supplies all over the place, it somehow looked cleaner. also, clearly, the four of us staying up til god knows when to paint was a blast. Especially when jared and i got a little high from the chalkboard spray paint fumes. those boys never cease to surprise me. and they always know how to make me laugh. I'm so lucky to have them :). By the way... BIG things are in the works for the new and improved 86.3 The Groove. The apartment renovation is the first of many exciting things for the next few months. you should all be very excited.
I just googled "how to clean a hardwood floor" and the article i clicked on had this picture...
Call me crazy, but if i were going to be writing an article about hardwood floors, and were going to make an effort to post a picture, i might take that extra step and find a picture of a hardwood floor.
Our cable is out. I wanted to watch the Jets game (a little) and the Golden Globes (a lot). I'll probably write a few more blog posts tonight because i have nothing else today. well... i could clean my room. but that doesn't sound like fun. Will you judge me if i write multiple blog entries in one day? Should i be spending my weekends doing something other than blogging all day? I should actually be working on my screen play. I think writing this blog has actually made me a less productive writer. Now i just think of funny little short stories and may never be able to write a feature length film ever again. plus my screenplay is a drama about a doomed relationship, and i'm just not in the mood to think about that for more than 5 minutes at a time. I guess i should also be working on the LISTS of short films in have ideas for but nothing written yet... but i'll probably just write my blog.
Tim, this blog post title reminds me of your segment "do you ever feel self conscious eating a banana." Remember when i thought the picture you use for that was me? and was so confused as to how you had it? I'm so smart. Its actually a Damien Rice lyric. props to him.
Friday, January 15, 2010
whats my age again
apparently i'm not the only one who seems to be caught in this weird middle ground of going back and forth between feeling too old and too young. Society in general can't seem to grasp my age.
I'm 25. but i understand i look like a 12 year old boy. however, i'm relatively mature and well spoken in a lot of ways. and i have a pseudo real job. i drink a lot of coffee and vodka, but would be just as excited about an orange soda as i would a martini. My two favorite foods are Filet Mignon and hot dogs with cheese in the middle. i get it. i'm sending a lot of mixed signals into the universe.
last week i walked into my midtown Manhattan office building, greeted our maintenance guy/super/landlord?/sometimes doorman, Oscar, as I do every morning. As i walked to hit the elevator button, Oscar said "I'm going up. Would you like me to take you up in the maintenance elevator?!?" as if i was 8 years old and this would be new and exciting and fun. it is only about 2 feet closer than the real elevator, and not at all faster-- so there's no real practical reason why i would want to ride in it ever. but... of course i said yes. because he was right. i'm an 8 year old child and the maintenance elevator was new and exciting and fun.
i accidentally typed 'envelop' instead of 'elevator' when writing that story. weird.
Also last week, a 57-year-old patient was waiting for his appointment, and i was chatting with him a bit as do with all of our patients. or at least most. This particular 57-year-old is one of my favorites because he's so soft spoken and considerate and he's very dad-ish. not like my father in particular, but dad-ish in general. He casually asked me if i was going to any of the XXXXXXXXX shows this weekend (the name has been omitted to save me a little bit of pride. trying to hold on dearly to all that's left of it. it was a pop band. lets leave it at that). I said "i don't even know what that means." he said "XXXXXXXX. they're playing at webster hall. i'm trying to get tickets on craigslist." webster hall. he must be talking about a band and not a play or a movie. i can continue the conversation with a little bit of grace. context clues. thanks 9th grade English! also, assuming since he's 57, me not going to the same concert as him probably isn't that big of a shocker. "i've never even heard of them." brace yourselves, folks. this is about to sting. the 57-year-old patient looks at me and says, "Oh... well... I guess you've probably been out of college for too long." excuse me!?!?! i've been out of school for 2 (quickly coming up on 3) years and i know less about pop music than my 57-year-old dad of a patient. shit.fuck.damn.balls. He then said "if you have some headphones i have their album on my blackberry if you'd like to listen to it. i think you'd like them." yes. i did have headphones. yes. i did like them. and actually i had heard of the some of their songs, just didn't know the name of the band. i don't know if that's better or worse. gross.
this has nothing to do with my age, but probably more my IQ. Classy moment of the weekend. I got all dressed up on saturday to see a play with jared (we ended up playing catch phrase instead...). I was making ramen noodes for dinner, so classy points start adding up already, and when i went to get it out of the microwave, the bowl was SUPER hot. I couldn't find a kitchen towel, and we are out of paper towel, so naturally, i use my skirt to pick up the bowl. Don't worry, i'm wearing leggings. i'm a fool, but not a slut. As i'm carrying it to the counter, i start YELLING cus its soooo hot and burning my hand thru my thin little skirt and say "OH SHIT i'm gonna drop it i'm gonna drop it i'm gonna drop it.." and as i put it on the counter i tip the bowl back toward my body and pour soup all over my dress. Roger and Jared gave me the ever so familiar "this is why we can't have nice things" look. Potholders. Potholders was the right answer.
alright. 7pm. time for me to get out of this 'ell 'ole.
I'm 25. but i understand i look like a 12 year old boy. however, i'm relatively mature and well spoken in a lot of ways. and i have a pseudo real job. i drink a lot of coffee and vodka, but would be just as excited about an orange soda as i would a martini. My two favorite foods are Filet Mignon and hot dogs with cheese in the middle. i get it. i'm sending a lot of mixed signals into the universe.
last week i walked into my midtown Manhattan office building, greeted our maintenance guy/super/landlord?/sometimes doorman, Oscar, as I do every morning. As i walked to hit the elevator button, Oscar said "I'm going up. Would you like me to take you up in the maintenance elevator?!?" as if i was 8 years old and this would be new and exciting and fun. it is only about 2 feet closer than the real elevator, and not at all faster-- so there's no real practical reason why i would want to ride in it ever. but... of course i said yes. because he was right. i'm an 8 year old child and the maintenance elevator was new and exciting and fun.
i accidentally typed 'envelop' instead of 'elevator' when writing that story. weird.
Also last week, a 57-year-old patient was waiting for his appointment, and i was chatting with him a bit as do with all of our patients. or at least most. This particular 57-year-old is one of my favorites because he's so soft spoken and considerate and he's very dad-ish. not like my father in particular, but dad-ish in general. He casually asked me if i was going to any of the XXXXXXXXX shows this weekend (the name has been omitted to save me a little bit of pride. trying to hold on dearly to all that's left of it. it was a pop band. lets leave it at that). I said "i don't even know what that means." he said "XXXXXXXX. they're playing at webster hall. i'm trying to get tickets on craigslist." webster hall. he must be talking about a band and not a play or a movie. i can continue the conversation with a little bit of grace. context clues. thanks 9th grade English! also, assuming since he's 57, me not going to the same concert as him probably isn't that big of a shocker. "i've never even heard of them." brace yourselves, folks. this is about to sting. the 57-year-old patient looks at me and says, "Oh... well... I guess you've probably been out of college for too long." excuse me!?!?! i've been out of school for 2 (quickly coming up on 3) years and i know less about pop music than my 57-year-old dad of a patient. shit.fuck.damn.balls. He then said "if you have some headphones i have their album on my blackberry if you'd like to listen to it. i think you'd like them." yes. i did have headphones. yes. i did like them. and actually i had heard of the some of their songs, just didn't know the name of the band. i don't know if that's better or worse. gross.
this has nothing to do with my age, but probably more my IQ. Classy moment of the weekend. I got all dressed up on saturday to see a play with jared (we ended up playing catch phrase instead...). I was making ramen noodes for dinner, so classy points start adding up already, and when i went to get it out of the microwave, the bowl was SUPER hot. I couldn't find a kitchen towel, and we are out of paper towel, so naturally, i use my skirt to pick up the bowl. Don't worry, i'm wearing leggings. i'm a fool, but not a slut. As i'm carrying it to the counter, i start YELLING cus its soooo hot and burning my hand thru my thin little skirt and say "OH SHIT i'm gonna drop it i'm gonna drop it i'm gonna drop it.." and as i put it on the counter i tip the bowl back toward my body and pour soup all over my dress. Roger and Jared gave me the ever so familiar "this is why we can't have nice things" look. Potholders. Potholders was the right answer.
alright. 7pm. time for me to get out of this 'ell 'ole.
fake crush
I try to have as many fake crushes as possible. it makes my day so much more fun. My current fake crush is a guy at the bank. I'm at the bank at least 3 times a week for work. pretty much everyone there recognizes me and smiles or whatever. its actually becoming kind of annoying. who would of have thought they would ever hear me saying that after only living in NYC for a year and a half, being a total midwest gal and not even (that) famous yet?
anyway. things you need to know about the chase bank on 48th and Madison. 1. it is under construction. 2. they are obsessed with trying to get people to sit down at a desk with an actual banker even though i'm just making a deposit for my boss. they then try to review my personal chase account to try to enroll me in whatever program they have at the time. i don't make a lot of money. and i've already been up-sold on anything i could possibly need from chase bank. unless one of them is able to completely erase my credit card debt or some how put lots of money in my checking account for no good reason. 3. it looks like the united nations every time i go in there. there is seriously an employee of every background imaginable. this actually has nothing to do with the story, but i find it interesting.
So one of the guys who works there is really really hot. Ok well he's not that hot. if i met him at a bar i probably wouldn't even be interested. but that's why he's my fake crush. he's attractive enough to make going to the bank a little more enjoyable. So FINALLY after months of smiling at him at the bank as i walk thru, he's standing at the front and asks if he can help me. YAY. So we walk back to his desk, and as I sit down in the chair i TRIP and fall. Luckily i caught myself before i face-planted on his desk, but it was noticeable enough for him and the banker dude walking by to ask me if i was ok. The non-cute guy said "they're new chairs and they kind of stick out a little at the bottom sorry about that" which is true. and should be illegal. chair legs should be at a 90* angle. especially if i'm wearing heels. so i said lightheartedly "oh good, so i'll get to do that every time i come in!" then fake bank crush guy said "yeah with all the construction, you never really know what to expect. the floors are all uneven, people are falling all over the place" i appreciated him trying to comfort me. but we all knew me tripping on a chair leg had nothing to do with the construction. embarrassing.
so... that's pretty much it for my bank crush. i mean i still smile at him, because i'm a polite young lady from the midwest, but i can no longer give him the extra special smile he had been receiving for the first 7 months of my time as a regular at Chase bank. boo.
sorry for SO much exposition that wasn't really vital for what should have been a relatively short, simple story. i'm bored at work. and by bored i mean there's a shit ton for me to do, but its friday at 5:32 and i don't really want to do any of it. Thanks for listening y'all.
anyway. things you need to know about the chase bank on 48th and Madison. 1. it is under construction. 2. they are obsessed with trying to get people to sit down at a desk with an actual banker even though i'm just making a deposit for my boss. they then try to review my personal chase account to try to enroll me in whatever program they have at the time. i don't make a lot of money. and i've already been up-sold on anything i could possibly need from chase bank. unless one of them is able to completely erase my credit card debt or some how put lots of money in my checking account for no good reason. 3. it looks like the united nations every time i go in there. there is seriously an employee of every background imaginable. this actually has nothing to do with the story, but i find it interesting.
So one of the guys who works there is really really hot. Ok well he's not that hot. if i met him at a bar i probably wouldn't even be interested. but that's why he's my fake crush. he's attractive enough to make going to the bank a little more enjoyable. So FINALLY after months of smiling at him at the bank as i walk thru, he's standing at the front and asks if he can help me. YAY. So we walk back to his desk, and as I sit down in the chair i TRIP and fall. Luckily i caught myself before i face-planted on his desk, but it was noticeable enough for him and the banker dude walking by to ask me if i was ok. The non-cute guy said "they're new chairs and they kind of stick out a little at the bottom sorry about that" which is true. and should be illegal. chair legs should be at a 90* angle. especially if i'm wearing heels. so i said lightheartedly "oh good, so i'll get to do that every time i come in!" then fake bank crush guy said "yeah with all the construction, you never really know what to expect. the floors are all uneven, people are falling all over the place" i appreciated him trying to comfort me. but we all knew me tripping on a chair leg had nothing to do with the construction. embarrassing.
so... that's pretty much it for my bank crush. i mean i still smile at him, because i'm a polite young lady from the midwest, but i can no longer give him the extra special smile he had been receiving for the first 7 months of my time as a regular at Chase bank. boo.
sorry for SO much exposition that wasn't really vital for what should have been a relatively short, simple story. i'm bored at work. and by bored i mean there's a shit ton for me to do, but its friday at 5:32 and i don't really want to do any of it. Thanks for listening y'all.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Why I love Emily
My little sister, Emily, is one of my favorite people for oh so many reasons. That’s why I'm going to start a new segment of my blog called "why i love emily"
Today’s story is called "America." This story takes place in our parent’s lovely home in Lake Orion, Michigan. Emily, approximately 20, and myself age 21 or 22 are both visiting on a random weekend home from college (Emily was an honor roll student at the University of Michigan). We shared a conversation which is as follows:
E: Case, I don't understand how South America is AMERICA.
C: What do you mean?
E: I mean, it’s not really America.
C: Well, it’s not the country of The United States of America. It’s the Continent of South America.
E: No, I know it’s a continent. [yet is somehow still unsatisfied and confused. And a little peeved as if I had insulted her intelligence]
C: Like how Mexico is part of North America the Continent, but not part of the United States of America the country. [Still really nothing from Emily] our country is also called "America" but it’s the United States OF America. It’s not THE America.
E: But do they say "God Bless America." [note. period. not even question mark.]
C: [Laughing] Umm... I would assume not. But I don't think they say that in Mexico either.
E: Yeah... but that’s different.
I don't think I even asked how that was different. I just accepted the fact that because they don't say "God bless America," to her, South America was not America.
NOTE about this segment as a whole. I have 3 Siblings and 45 foster siblings all of whom I love dearly. And will share random stories about periodically (in accordance with HIPPA guidelines of course). And, even though there are a lot of stories about Emily being "misinformed" I in no way am insulting her intelligence. She's SO smart... Graduated top of her class at UofM and is starting her Master's in the fall- and i couldn't be prouder. ALSO, I can’t wait for my older sister Kelly’s Video Blog to be up and running, which you should all follow as well because it will be hilarious. However. I have Way more stories about Emily being… Emily, and will probably share those more often with no sense of favoritism, but rather marketability.
Today’s story is called "America." This story takes place in our parent’s lovely home in Lake Orion, Michigan. Emily, approximately 20, and myself age 21 or 22 are both visiting on a random weekend home from college (Emily was an honor roll student at the University of Michigan). We shared a conversation which is as follows:
E: Case, I don't understand how South America is AMERICA.
C: What do you mean?
E: I mean, it’s not really America.
C: Well, it’s not the country of The United States of America. It’s the Continent of South America.
E: No, I know it’s a continent. [yet is somehow still unsatisfied and confused. And a little peeved as if I had insulted her intelligence]
C: Like how Mexico is part of North America the Continent, but not part of the United States of America the country. [Still really nothing from Emily] our country is also called "America" but it’s the United States OF America. It’s not THE America.
E: But do they say "God Bless America." [note. period. not even question mark.]
C: [Laughing] Umm... I would assume not. But I don't think they say that in Mexico either.
E: Yeah... but that’s different.
I don't think I even asked how that was different. I just accepted the fact that because they don't say "God bless America," to her, South America was not America.
NOTE about this segment as a whole. I have 3 Siblings and 45 foster siblings all of whom I love dearly. And will share random stories about periodically (in accordance with HIPPA guidelines of course). And, even though there are a lot of stories about Emily being "misinformed" I in no way am insulting her intelligence. She's SO smart... Graduated top of her class at UofM and is starting her Master's in the fall- and i couldn't be prouder. ALSO, I can’t wait for my older sister Kelly’s Video Blog to be up and running, which you should all follow as well because it will be hilarious. However. I have Way more stories about Emily being… Emily, and will probably share those more often with no sense of favoritism, but rather marketability.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Reasons I must work for the MTA
there is one reason and one reason only that I need to work for the MTA. I just don't understand what being an employee of something like the MTA would be like. no comprehension.
Questions I have.
Are there certain train lines that are better to work for than others? (yes) Do you need to work your way up to them? do you start out on a shitty train like the G or the 7, or even worse, the S and work your way up to the ACE or 456?
Do you need to work your way up to being the one that announces what stop you're at? is that considered a big promotion? how long does it take to work your way up to something like that. Since i have a degree in theatre and 10+ years of experience in public speaking, do you think they'd start me off there? even if it is just on a shitty train
Would it be better to be a train announcer on a shitty train, or a regular train operator on a good train?
Where do you go TO work? do you sign in somewhere? are the shift times starting in 7-9 minute increments? do just show up to west 4th at 3:57 everyday? if the train is late picking you up for your shift, do you not get paid for the time you spend waiting on the platform? what if you're late to work (inevitably the train you ride to work is sometimes late) does the person you're relieving have to stay on the train for another round until they're back at west 4th? god forbid its an uptown train and you were stuck riding up the the bronx and back down to west 4th because some asshole was 3 minutes late getting to work that day. speaking of relief, how do you take a bathroom break?
How is it that they all seem like they're friends? you're pretty much in that booth thing alone. do they have headsets so they can chat? (like i inappropriately do with my crew when i'm stage managing a show. "cue light cue 34. light cue 34 go. so.... you. spot light operator. any good sex dreams lately???")
How do your supervisors know if you're doing a good job? are there "secret riders" checking in on you?
Is there a script, or at least some sort of list with the order of the stops? and transfers. hey-sues. can you imagine learning all of the transfers? there are some really tricky ones where you have to go above ground and walk a block and reswipe your card for a free transfer. how much leeway do you get with that script? i've heard some pretty creative train announcements. i wonder if that sort of thing is encouraged or frowned upon.
Who makes more money, train conductors or bus drivers?
most of all. i just want to understand the tunnels. its so crazy down there! I don't understand how you can be on the f train, look to your left across the platform and see the b train, then at the next stop, the platform and the b train are on your right. HOW DID THEY SWITCH SIDES???? Weekend services with all of the switches... why and how is the E train showing up at essex delancey? why isn't it just an F train. that just seems stupid. But until i see some sort of map of the tunnels, i really can't judge. I want to see a picture of NYC but a cross section like you see of huge ships with all of the subway tunnels and their depth into the city and the way that they intersect and the mole people.
There are just too many questions. too much i may never understand. most of the time when i have this many questions about something and really no way to find out the answers, i just assume it doesn't exist. like the stock market or the universe or unconditional love. But there's a chance i could one day learn at least some of this. and the only way to do that is to get a job there. so that is what i must do. i wonder if they have health insurance.
Questions I have.
Are there certain train lines that are better to work for than others? (yes) Do you need to work your way up to them? do you start out on a shitty train like the G or the 7, or even worse, the S and work your way up to the ACE or 456?
Do you need to work your way up to being the one that announces what stop you're at? is that considered a big promotion? how long does it take to work your way up to something like that. Since i have a degree in theatre and 10+ years of experience in public speaking, do you think they'd start me off there? even if it is just on a shitty train
Would it be better to be a train announcer on a shitty train, or a regular train operator on a good train?
Where do you go TO work? do you sign in somewhere? are the shift times starting in 7-9 minute increments? do just show up to west 4th at 3:57 everyday? if the train is late picking you up for your shift, do you not get paid for the time you spend waiting on the platform? what if you're late to work (inevitably the train you ride to work is sometimes late) does the person you're relieving have to stay on the train for another round until they're back at west 4th? god forbid its an uptown train and you were stuck riding up the the bronx and back down to west 4th because some asshole was 3 minutes late getting to work that day. speaking of relief, how do you take a bathroom break?
How is it that they all seem like they're friends? you're pretty much in that booth thing alone. do they have headsets so they can chat? (like i inappropriately do with my crew when i'm stage managing a show. "cue light cue 34. light cue 34 go. so.... you. spot light operator. any good sex dreams lately???")
How do your supervisors know if you're doing a good job? are there "secret riders" checking in on you?
Is there a script, or at least some sort of list with the order of the stops? and transfers. hey-sues. can you imagine learning all of the transfers? there are some really tricky ones where you have to go above ground and walk a block and reswipe your card for a free transfer. how much leeway do you get with that script? i've heard some pretty creative train announcements. i wonder if that sort of thing is encouraged or frowned upon.
Who makes more money, train conductors or bus drivers?
most of all. i just want to understand the tunnels. its so crazy down there! I don't understand how you can be on the f train, look to your left across the platform and see the b train, then at the next stop, the platform and the b train are on your right. HOW DID THEY SWITCH SIDES???? Weekend services with all of the switches... why and how is the E train showing up at essex delancey? why isn't it just an F train. that just seems stupid. But until i see some sort of map of the tunnels, i really can't judge. I want to see a picture of NYC but a cross section like you see of huge ships with all of the subway tunnels and their depth into the city and the way that they intersect and the mole people.
There are just too many questions. too much i may never understand. most of the time when i have this many questions about something and really no way to find out the answers, i just assume it doesn't exist. like the stock market or the universe or unconditional love. But there's a chance i could one day learn at least some of this. and the only way to do that is to get a job there. so that is what i must do. i wonder if they have health insurance.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
day late and dollar short. but what else is new.
Wow. I've been terrible at this blog thing for quite some time now. My apologies. I know how much you all look forward to reading my quirky witty narrative stylings and have little else going on in your lives. well i've been busy so BACK OFF.
stylings isn't a word.
I feel like i should make some sort of effort to recap 2009. make a top ten list. share my favorite songs. list my favorite movies. However, I don't really like doing any of those things. I always feel too much pressure. How am i supposed to pick just 10 moments? What if i forget a really good song that came out in February of 2009? What if I Accidentally pick a movie that came out in December 2008? plus lets be honest... I just can't be held responsible for those types of decisions. I'm seriously having a bit of an anxiety attack just thinking about it.
BUT what i will say is that in 2009 i made a LOT of really good friends, developed friendships with a lot of old friends, learned a thing or two about myself, became much stronger (not so much physically) and better at standing up for myself, made a lot of really important steps in my career, probably drank a little too much but had a lot of fun doing it, and my boobs got a little bigger. All together, not too shabby.
I know i say this a lot, but i really do love my friends. so. freaking. grateful.
I don't know why, but somehow i have an easier time picking a best/worst "insert category here" of all time rather than just in a year.
I had the Worst Cab ride of my life on new years eve. the cab driver yelled at me the ENTIRE time for ruining his new years. I'm sorry. i live in brooklyn. i have to go home. I'm know you'd rather stay in manhattan, but trust me, its not the end of the world. he also said, and i quote (hence the quotation marks) "i don't understand how your boyfriend (referring to a friend who helped me catch a cab) is so nice and you're such a bitch." Really? did you just call me a BITCH to my face? and I'm single. thanks for that painful reminder on new years. Are you expecting a tip? (yes. i still gave him a tip. it was new years eve and i made him drive to brooklyn).
Also, my roommates planned the best birthday party I've ever had. i have literally never been so flattered or felt so loved and special. they really went all out. the entire apt was decorated, matt made a huge poster of my face, roger called my mom and got pictures of me 'thru the years' and made a slide show, bunches of friends showed up despite the worst blizzard in the history of NYC, and i put in pretty much zero effort in any of it. thanks to everyone for that. it made turning old a little more bearable.
Honorable mention must go to my 6th birthday when i had a surprise birthday party at pizza hut where we got to make our own personal pan pizzas in the actual pizza hut kitchen. how sweet is that? its a close, close second.
looking forward. goals. 2010. I have to be honest, for some reason i'm not THAT optimistic. I'm not pessimistic either. I guess saying things like "this is gonna be my year" seems a bit overwhelming. I do much better with short term goals. maybe this is why i never actually get anything done. maybe its also just that i started the year in kind of a funky mood. I turned 25, and all of a sudden its 2010, and i feel a little behind in a lot of what i wanted for my life. So I decided to just not care at all about anything. So what? its a new year. big whoop. I'm 25 and haven't really done anything with my life, who gives a shit? Yeah i'm single, but I wouldn't date you anyway. so there. I'm giving myself 2 more days of this attitude then i'll be done with it. i promise.
In the mean time, i'm going to set some goals that maybe will pull me out of this funk. 1. get an agent 2. find a way to start meeting new people 3. meet said new people 4. be a little healthier 5. save more money so i can travel and move into a prettier apartment 6. stop being lazy 7. get my act together. I think this is a pretty decent list. realistic. productive. obtainable.
thats pretty much all i have to say about new years. 11 days late.
stylings isn't a word.
I feel like i should make some sort of effort to recap 2009. make a top ten list. share my favorite songs. list my favorite movies. However, I don't really like doing any of those things. I always feel too much pressure. How am i supposed to pick just 10 moments? What if i forget a really good song that came out in February of 2009? What if I Accidentally pick a movie that came out in December 2008? plus lets be honest... I just can't be held responsible for those types of decisions. I'm seriously having a bit of an anxiety attack just thinking about it.
BUT what i will say is that in 2009 i made a LOT of really good friends, developed friendships with a lot of old friends, learned a thing or two about myself, became much stronger (not so much physically) and better at standing up for myself, made a lot of really important steps in my career, probably drank a little too much but had a lot of fun doing it, and my boobs got a little bigger. All together, not too shabby.
I know i say this a lot, but i really do love my friends. so. freaking. grateful.
I don't know why, but somehow i have an easier time picking a best/worst "insert category here" of all time rather than just in a year.
I had the Worst Cab ride of my life on new years eve. the cab driver yelled at me the ENTIRE time for ruining his new years. I'm sorry. i live in brooklyn. i have to go home. I'm know you'd rather stay in manhattan, but trust me, its not the end of the world. he also said, and i quote (hence the quotation marks) "i don't understand how your boyfriend (referring to a friend who helped me catch a cab) is so nice and you're such a bitch." Really? did you just call me a BITCH to my face? and I'm single. thanks for that painful reminder on new years. Are you expecting a tip? (yes. i still gave him a tip. it was new years eve and i made him drive to brooklyn).
Also, my roommates planned the best birthday party I've ever had. i have literally never been so flattered or felt so loved and special. they really went all out. the entire apt was decorated, matt made a huge poster of my face, roger called my mom and got pictures of me 'thru the years' and made a slide show, bunches of friends showed up despite the worst blizzard in the history of NYC, and i put in pretty much zero effort in any of it. thanks to everyone for that. it made turning old a little more bearable.
Honorable mention must go to my 6th birthday when i had a surprise birthday party at pizza hut where we got to make our own personal pan pizzas in the actual pizza hut kitchen. how sweet is that? its a close, close second.
looking forward. goals. 2010. I have to be honest, for some reason i'm not THAT optimistic. I'm not pessimistic either. I guess saying things like "this is gonna be my year" seems a bit overwhelming. I do much better with short term goals. maybe this is why i never actually get anything done. maybe its also just that i started the year in kind of a funky mood. I turned 25, and all of a sudden its 2010, and i feel a little behind in a lot of what i wanted for my life. So I decided to just not care at all about anything. So what? its a new year. big whoop. I'm 25 and haven't really done anything with my life, who gives a shit? Yeah i'm single, but I wouldn't date you anyway. so there. I'm giving myself 2 more days of this attitude then i'll be done with it. i promise.
In the mean time, i'm going to set some goals that maybe will pull me out of this funk. 1. get an agent 2. find a way to start meeting new people 3. meet said new people 4. be a little healthier 5. save more money so i can travel and move into a prettier apartment 6. stop being lazy 7. get my act together. I think this is a pretty decent list. realistic. productive. obtainable.
thats pretty much all i have to say about new years. 11 days late.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
