I have made decisions. I have grown and learned lessons. I have matured. I am intelligent and motivated. I am Mommy and sister and friend. I care. I give. I love.

I am frightened. I am unsure and unsteady. I am hurt and am the cause of others’ hurt. I am broken. I am damaged. I need help. I need love. I am optimistic and terrified.

I am alive and I am going!


A selfish promotional piece!!

I’m posting this to enter a contest offered by Buy More Contacts at Uppercase Woman! I want to win the iPad 2!  Enter to win HERE!

Thanks for loving me.

Apologies for the selfishness, but I will promise to the, what, 2 people who read my blog that I’ll come back soon and post all sorts of grisly, gossipy stuff. Oh, I KNOW.

I really don’t ever blog here, despite my intentions to do so. i still have dreams about writing awe-inspiring delicate prose that would enmesh myself among the highest caliber of bloggers in today’s society, with ad revenue to boot. alas, it is what it is. and what it is doesn’t leave a lot of mental white space that i could fill with my writing.

so, i might switch to Tumblr. Unfortunately I’m aware of some wrinkles that Tumblr’s been going through, and I don’t even really know where that leaves the site and its network of thoughtful authors. I think I’d be better suited to a Tumblr-like situation, nonetheless. My thoughts and experiences come in drips and drops, like inkblots and spaghetti sauce splatters. I don’t have the time to devote to creating banners or making phone calls and begging for sales and behind-the-scenes codes and scripts and shit. I rarely have the inspiration to write anything at all – sometimes I just want to share a funny YouTube video or song that’s been running through my head. I really wanted to be something BIG, but I never gave this desire enough effort. In my defense, I really don’t have the time or energy to. Two children are essentially all-consuming, so whatever hours are left over for “me” are spent trying not to think or do much of anything. Quiet time for the gray matter, if you will. Dreaming about blogging was fun, and the hope for creating a masterpiece was real. Obviously WordPress was the simple way to do it, and from what i have here already it was an enjoyable and easy little journal of sorts to play around with. Perhaps there’s a better avenue, though, for the subordinate like me… one where I won’t feel sad if I leave it alone for weeks on end. I want to be okay with not posting often. I want to know that the design I participate in doesn’t offer me a myriad of templates and add-ons, of domains and virtually unlimited media potential to cast away and leave out to rust, like the plaster-molds of trophies that never had the chance to build something golden. I want the remedial version of blogging. I’m just not in the same class as the valedictorians that I read and follow on twitter, whom I secretly wish I was more like (at least I wish my blog was more like theirs with all the clanging bells and melodic whistles). Part of me really wants to be able to brag about getting 400,000 page hits an hour and have upwards of millions of twitter followers. I want to be funny and anticipated. I want to be worth the attention. I want a life I don’t have.

I am me, and I’m not sure I belong in the big, bad vast society of privately-owned domains and fan mail.

So do I keep this up, however overlooked and delusive? Do I give Tumblr a go? Or do I continue to act dejected over an enterprise that has always rested on the back burner? It’s time I find something to fire up, I just don’t know what that is… yet.

here i am, not apologizing.  hello again, interwebs, how’s your father? so let’s see, i should begin with an update, i suppose.

i still like typing in lowercase.  something about the shift-key interfering with my stream of consciousness upsets me, so i can’t being myself to use it.. unless there is really something i need to emphasize, like how i am PREGNANT! but i cheated and just used the caps lock key for that.  so yeah… after a bad 2008 in the baby-realm, hubby and i have once again joined our little morsels of DNA and my body has become host to my angel parasite baby.  yes, i am truly happy, but it has felt very much like a parasite because i have been SO.  VERY.  SICK.  (caps lock again!)  nausea and cookie-tossing and all of that.  of course, being ever paradoxical, my body has eschewed morning sickness in favor of night sickness… meaning that 5pm is about my cut-off for anything solid.  i’ve lost weight, which my doc was not too thrilled about, but it makes it easier for me since i haven’t told work yet and i can get away with it, as i’m not quite showing (strange for me since i popped around 9 weeks with the last ones).  unfortunately night sickness makes it hard on hubby and child, since i can’t bear to cook dinner for any of us.  my son has also been on a fish stick binge lately which is reeeeally not pleasant to the olfactory senses.  the good news is that i am getting better in the pukey department… almost 11 weeks along now.  my little thumper is due august 9th, but being that i’m doomed for another cesarean, he or she will be arriving about a week before the due date.  being 9-10 months pregnant in the blistering heat of the southern carolina sunshine will be SO MUCH FUCKING FUN I CAN BARELY CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT.  so yeah, there’s that.

anyone who follows me on facebook will also know that we recently adopted a little doggy from a rescue operation in SC.  he was meant to be ours, for sure… one of those truly tangible kismet moments where i was browsing Petfinder without much thought, then BAM!  There was Milton’s fabulous furry face staring back at me.  A few emails and phone calls later and he showed up at our doorstep.  we kept his name, because really, it’s hard to top Milton (he keeps asking me for his stapler, though, what’s that about?).  he’s a 22 pound mutt, but the vet thinks he is mainly corgi and golden retreiver.  in other words, so cute he will melt your retinas.  Milton has the patience of a saint and doesn’t seem to mind when my 3 year old steps on his ass/head/tail/face.  not that we encourage that behavior.  overall he is a perfect little doggy.  sure he is annoying at times, like having a penchant for seeing how many times he can trip me in 3 minutes, or how he will bark at anyone walking past the house (i’m trying to train him to only bark at republicans), or how anytime i am eating anything at all, he is all “WOWTHATLOOKSSOGOODOHMYGOSHIMUSTHAVESOMERIGHTAWAYNOWFEEDME!”  Milton rocks.  Here is Milton.

In other news, work sucks.  wait, is that news?  More so for the other half who is dealing with the bank nonsense.  we’ve got a side project in the works, though… look out, people, it’s gonna be big!  we’re in the baby steps phase, which is why i am being so cryptic, but suffice it to say when there is news, i will report it.  and for those of you who know me well, it has to do with where we went on our honeymoon.  that’s the only hint i can drop right now.  but damn we are excited.  fuck this corporate shit.  wow i really love using foul language… is it part of my new yorker-ness?  probably.  fuckingshitassdammitcuntwhore!  ahhh, sweet catharsis.

alright that should be enough for now, i’m going to try to get back to a normal posting schedule with dream recaps (which have been soooo weird lately, you guys have been missing out!), video clips, song lyrics and other nonsensical nonsense.  thanks for reading and sticking with me.

i don’t want this job anymore.  for those of you who know me personally, this doesn’t come as a surprise.  i’ve felt the same way about my “career” for years now, only the sentiment ebbs and flows depending on how busy i am and how much money i’m bringing home.  but the fact of the matter is that i’ve been wrestling with this beast for too many years of my short life.  i do not want to be doing this, or anything remotely similar to this, in 10 or even 5 years.  the world has GOT to have more in store for me than spending 8+ hours behind a computer screen without any glimpse of sunlight or fresh air. but what do i do?  i want to go home. my body and my soul misses the north.  new york, of course, but i’d be happy with jersey, connecticut, or even “upstate” ny (which everyone knows is not really new york anyway).  the south has afforded me and my family some great financial opportunities, but there’s been quite a heavy load of shit as well, and i just frankly need to get back to my roots.  it’s a quandary, given that i don’t want to work anymore, and also want to move back to one of the most expensive areas to live in the country.  bit of a pickle, wouldn’t ye say?  nonetheless, it’s what my heart’s been reverberating at length, and the volume’s seem to gone up dramatically in the past few weeks.  i’ve got to make it work.

there are times when i am not at work during normal M-F office hours, and i look around at the people who are doing grocery shopping in their sweats or walking their dogs in shorts and flip flops, and i have to wonder if they’re lucky enough to not have to work, or just have unusual business hours.  to say that i am intensely jealous of those people is an understatement.  Target and Harris Teeter seem like completely different places at 1:30pm on a Tuesday versus the immutable weekend crowds that I am sadly accustomed to.  The simple things in life take on a whole new meaning when you don’t have a routine to adhere to.

there is a small percentage of my brain that wants to type up my resignation letter as soon as i’m done with this blog post.  i want to leave corporate america and kick it in its lily-white elitist ass on the way out.  shoot, if they knew how much time i spent on the internet they’d probably fire me anyway.

but, i dont want to be a unemployed, either.  i just want to do something fun and interactive (and PART-TIME!), like working at a florist or bookstore.  some where that doesnt’ make my ass go numb from sitting all day.  something where i dont have to feel bad for pushing our business dress code to its limits (hey, pink corduroys arent jeans!).  seriously.  fuck high heels and skirts and cosmetics.  i want to wear those things when i have a reason to look my best, not because the walls of my cubicle demand that i spend my paycheck at Bare Escentuals and Ann Taylor Loft.   i am so done.  i want out.  i am so much better than this corner i have painted myself into.  i have no desire to be a successful career woman.  i am a mommy and an artist and a tree hugger and the time i spend away from those deeply ingrained facets of my being are causing me pain that i can no longer ignore.

another problem is ego.  do i allow myself to be the wife that relies on her husband’s salary?  i truly believe that my husband wants to be able to provide for us all, and if he did i would be thrilled to keep the house clean and make dinner every night.  seriously.  i wouldn’t ask for anything, for my freedom would be more than enough of a gift.  but i don’t know if i would feel right going out and buying myself a new pair of shoes if i didnt contribute to the family’s finances.  i suppose that’s why i would like to work part-time, not only for the activity, but for the small confirmation that the little bit of money i bring home would negate any dependence i might otherwise feel.

something’s gotta give before i end up sabotaging my current situation.  i am fed up.  logic will always keep me from making any hasty decisions, but… well, will it?  who knows.  maybe what i need is to just do something rash.  trust that everything will work out.

how much longer will it be if i don’t?

I’ve been searching for this poem for years.  I had it handwritten in an old journal of mine from college, and I remember copying it from a book that my roommate had at the time.  I stopped looking for it eventually, but just a few minutes ago something told me to google it again (curiously, i found a few different translations as the original was written in French).  I’m happy to say it doesn’t literally translate as perfectly for me anymore, but the words you’re about to read completely defined me for a very long, very sad time. I’m glad those days are over but I still see the beauty in this poem:

I’ve dreamed of you so much that you’re losing your reality.
Is it already too late for me to embrace your literal, living and breathing
physical body and to kiss that mouth which is the birthplace of that voice which is
so dear to me?
I’ve dreamed of you so much that my arms–which have become accustomed to
lying crossed upon my own chest after attempting to encircle your
shadow–might not be able to unfold again to embrace the contours of your
literal form, perhaps
So that coming face-to-face with the actual incarnation of what has haunted me
and ruled me and dominated my life for so many days and years
Might very well turn me into a shadow.
Oh equilibriums of the emotional scales!
I’ve dreamed of you so much that it might be too late for me to ever wake up
I sleep on my feet, body confronting all the usual phenomena of life and love
and yet when it comes to you–you, the only being on the planet who matters to me
now– I can no more touch your face and lips than I can those of the next random
I’ve dreamed of you so much, have walked and talked and slept so much with
your phantom presence that perhaps the only thing left for me to do now
Is to become a phantom among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadowy
than that shifting shape which moves and which will go on moving,
stepping lightly and happily across the sundial of your life.

I gained about 5 pounds over the past few weeks. I guess stress makes me eat more (shocker!) but I’ve also only been able to make it to about 1 kung fu class a week which is totally lame. I really love going, and I need to make an effort to go more often… even though The Husband makes me feel guilty for leaving him with The Child. He’ll never verbalize that, though, heavens no… but after 9 years I can read his passive aggressive undertones like a dictionary. Anyhoo, lose this blubber I must. No more salted caramels, peach cake, or Utz potato chips. At least not often.

My dreams have taken a very boring turn lately. It’s often the case during summer, but there really hasn’t been a whole lot of excitement in Slumberland. The oddest dream I could muster came earlier in the week when I dreamt of flat ironing my hair with Zac Efron as my audience. He was complaining about how Vanessa Hudgens broke his heart when she ran off with an older guy, but I wasn’t really paying attention to him because my hair was too wet to flat iron properly. He showed me where I could find a hair dryer, only whenever I turned it on, it also activated the internet and dialed 911. So I had to be careful. Yeah. WTF. I’m looking forward to Fall and Winter when my dreams tend to be more lucid and impactful. Maybe it’s the endless weeks of 90+ degree weather that shrivel my creative subconscious.

The Husband sent me flowers today. Lilies. They’re going to smell so strong once they fully open and I’ll probably have to move them off of my desk because they’ll give me an allergy attack. Funny, during all of the charades we’ve struggled through lately, one of my silent wishes was, “Fight for me, do something, send me flowers, anything!” and now that they’re here, I’m all…. meh. Achoo! Oh, there was that box of chocolates from Asheville, too. A fat chick with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose will be SO hot to potential suitors!

Yeah… I need to work out more.