Archive for November, 2007

Departure

November 13, 2007 | Filed under: Planes trains and automobiles, Va-cay-cay-cay

“To get away from one’s working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one’s self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change.” ~Charles Horton Cooley

About seven minutes before stepping on the Airtrain to JFK, I decided to check the crackberry for any last minute work email that I might need to respond to. This would probably give one the impression that I am highly important with my office and window and excessive travel and what not, but that’s actually a load of bullshit. The real problem is that I spent several years with a boss who took great pleasure in forcing my first crackberry into my hands and then making me respond to emails at 7 PM on a Saturday night while he was out club hopping in Atlanta and I was sitting in my apartment crying because I knew that by Monday, I’d want to toss myself off the balcony once again. Rinse and repeat for 19 months. Even though my current boss isn’t anywhere close to Stalin-esque I still felt compelled to quickly check one last time even though I am fully aware that nothing good ever comes from checking work email while not at work or about to get on an international flight.

And wouldn’t you know, I checked my email and their blaring, with a little red “read this or else you’ll be unemployed” envelope was a message that forced my blood pressure to sky rocket and my heart to feel as if it were beating out of my chest. An email that sent me reeling into the depths of “Ohmygodi’mgoingtoprisonandtherewillbeorangejumpsuits” type panic and so I replied as calmly as possible after my very well imagined possible threat of handcuffs and Federal prison for not filling out a form and then called my mother breathless because I do NOT look good in orange. And the material the handcuffs would be made from would cause me to break out. My mother told me to calm the fuck down but with gentler language because her tongue would fall out of her mouth if she ever dared use the word ‘fuck’. She soothed me and told me that I was on my way out to France and maybe a xanax or some vodka or throwing my crackberry onto the train tracks would do me some good. I checked my email one more time and noticed a response and was told by my coworker that “it” would be taken care of, not to worry, and why the hell are you checking your email you psychotic bitch? So I turned it off and went to France.

There are a million things I could say about Paris and will need to process over the next few days. Because even though I was only there for five days, it feels like I was a world away and it doesn’t help that I was sick on the way there and that I now am going to the West coast for six days. It will be really great to see my internal clockwork spontaneously combust. At any rate, I always feel this way when I return to Europe for I’m going from a very chill and zen-like while lolling around drinking coffee in the middle of the day and purchasing the softest tights known to woman to being thrust back into the cold cruel world and the soft vibrations of electronic devices every ten minutes.

The plane ride there was superb, I am so very blessed to be one of those people who plops her ass right at her window seat and then falls asleep for seven hours. I’ve seen those people, once or twice, the ones who don’t sleep. Walking up and down the aisles of the main cabin with sunken eyes, staring at the monitor that counts down the miles and hours left until arrival. Their skin gray and slacking and why, God, why are they not wearing shoes? I stare at them and shake my head and fall back into blissful slumber after a double dose of Moet and Cotes du Rhone. That’s what they give you on the way to France, champagne, wine, a baguette and Camembert. It’s like a little foreplay for what you’ll be getting upon touchdown. Like “Oh yeah, you think this is good baby? Wait until you see how I can make you feel once you try the chevre and a crepe with nutella. I’ll have you eating out of the palm of my hand.” Well then, consider me wooed.

Carpe diem

November 5, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, NaBloPoMo

“Success is due less to ability than to zeal.” ~Charles Buxton

I don’t know what’s with me lately but I’m suddenly optimistic and energized. It could be that I’ve just discovered Newcastle and now I’m wondering what else I’ve been missing. Or it could be that constant cynicism gets boring pretty quickly. Or perhaps, knowing that I’ll be spending exactly nine days in the office this month. Or that the eight pounds that mysteriously found its way to my ass has finally departed. Whatever it is I’m giddy. Instead of feeling completely powerless and waiting for the other shoe to drop, I feel this surge of awesomeness. People always have more to say when things are going poorly. When things are complete shit we look to find others to commiserate with. What if instead of being annoyingly pessimistic I was annoyingly really happy? About nothing at really, but I guess these things just happen. Now, I shall skip off and look at rainbows. Ho hum.

Avoidance tactic

November 4, 2007 | Filed under: Humdrum, NaBloPoMo

“I like the word “indolence.” It makes my laziness seem classy.” ~Bern Williams

I was asked the other day why it seems that I avoided speaking about Halloween all together. It’s because in my mind Halloween doesn’t exist. I enjoy Columbus Day and a rousing dose of European History more than I enjoy Halloween. The only good part about Halloween is that all candy comes in miniature sizes so when I enjoy six pull and peel twizzlers I feel like less of a fat ass. Yet despite my deep hatred of this so- called holiday, I will graciously accept invites to parties because not only do I like candy that comes in wee sizes but I also like free alcohol. Last night was no exception as I was treated to this exchange:

Him: “Where are you from?”
Me: “Sommervale”
Him: “Oh. Are you sure you’re from Sommervale?”
Me: [setting up cups for beer pong] “Yes. Why?”
Him: “Because I dated a few girls from Sommervale and you don’t seem like someone from there. They were all white trash and kind of slutty. They weren’t very classy looking”
Me: “Is that your round about way of saying that I don’t look like a slut?”
Him: “Um, yes”
Me: “Ok then. Thank you”

I really have nothing else except I’m mustering up the courage to clean up the world’s largest pile of cat puke ever. I don’t even know how one gets cat puke out of the carpet. Also, it’s not MY fucking cat and I’m thisclose to leaving it until tomorrow afternoon when The Roommate gets back. I’ll even put up a sign and streamers around it “Congratulations on completing the marathon! Here’s some cat vomit with remnants of cocoa puffs in it. Don’t forget to put your arms into it and really scrub! Love, Heather”

The awakening

November 3, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, NaBloPoMo

“A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.” ~Herm Albright

I woke up this morning not in a particularly excellent mood, but that’s what having something called a red-headed slut will do to a person. The name isn’t as disturbing as the fact that I thought it would be a super fantastic idea to drink anything with a main ingredient of Jaeger. The last time I ‘enjoyed’ – a word I use very, very loosely here – Jaeger, I ended up dry heaving at the sight of French fries. I think that wine and French fries (Pomme Frites – I’m learning!) are proof that God loves us so that I wanted to dump a plate of them down a garbage disposal, is mildly upsetting.

Anyway, I woke up and found myself full of wonder on two things 1) Whether or not there should be an age limit on the, gulp, enjoyment of Jaeger and 2) What’s with my piss poor demeanor lately? PMS can’t be an excuse for the other 24-ish days of the month.

The answers were fairly simple 1) There probably isn’t an age limit. I’m just a giant pussy who doesn’t like to feel the contents of her stomach burning. Other people are far stronger than I and can handle the taste and the smell while I’m busy trying to think of the best way to describe it other than “Smells like dying”. 2) No more piss poor attitude and petulance. Or at least no public piss poor attitude and petulance. I woke up determined to do shots of Patron only and to make the second half of my twenties a little more enjoyable than the first half. It’s like my own version of “The Secret” and here’s to hoping that it works.

One-track mind

November 2, 2007 | Filed under: NaBloPoMo, Va-cay-cay-cay, Whoopdie Doo

“Let’s not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it.” ~Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

It takes a lot to get me excited. When most people are feeling that awesomeness of anticipation and can do nothing but wiggle around in their seats or stare at the ceiling all night long smiling, I’m curled up in the fetal position, thumb in mouth staring all night long at the ceiling muttering “Jesus, take me now.” I don’t know when I became so completely pessimistic and cynical about most every situation but I am. Instead of it being a cute quirk, it’s sad that I’m so rarely genuinely excited to the point where I can feel my heart beating whenever I think about an upcoming event. If I could put a finger on when this started happening I would probably say it became an incurable problem when I started feeling those bubbly feelings of excitement only to fall hard due to letdown later. So now I tend to go into most situations sullen and then getting warmed up to my new surroundings and adventures.

I woke up this morning at 5:10 AM for a 6:30 AM flight. I got yelled at by an 80 year old TSA attendee. It was freezing this morning and there were no spots at the airport. I kept thinking about a pair of pants I bought the other day that make me look stumpy and I busted a heel. But this morning, while waiting on the tarmac, I took out my Lonely Planet Guide to Paris. I haven’t had time to sit down and really think about next week because there were so many other things happening prior to that and all of my attention went to minor work crises and not thinking about how the Eiffel Tower lights up at night. Yet this morning, when I took out my book to find out the hours for the Lourve and yesterday when I went to look at the 10-day outlook for the weather in Paris, my heart did that thing. That thing where I can feel it beating and my body tenses up not in nervousness but with the giddy anticipation of an eight year old going to Disney World for the first time. I keep squeezing my hands into fists while bouncing up and down. I want to cover things in exclamation points and call people just to scream, “I’m going to Europe, bitches” I am so motherfucking excited right now. And it feels AWESOME.