A letter to my sister

I just can't thank you enough for helping me train and using your resources to get me through this.  Nobody has ever been so nice to me or helped me so much with anything ever. A marathon is an important goal for anyone, but for me I'm sure you know it's the biggest most important thing I've ever done in my life, and even though training is difficult for me and my lifestyle I fully intend to continue for future races.

Training has changed who I am and who I want to be. It's shaped this whole new person that I always wished and never thought I could become. I still struggle every day with feeling that I'm somehow broken or can't have a normal happy life, but becoming an athlete--not just a runner, not just someone who will run a marathon once, but a real athlete--has taught me that I am not broken, I am strong. It's irrefutable proof that my strength of will can carry me through anything, even if it's sometimes hard, even if I sometimes don't want to do it, even if other people tell me I can't or shouldn't or I'm no good.  Even if I am broken and even if my life is never normal, I really can get through anything and there is no reason for me to give up hope, ever.

I thank you every time I run for giving me that gift. Every time someone tells me how great I look I thank you. Every time I sheepishly decline a drink because I have to run 15 miles the next day and someone looks at me in awe I thank you. Every time I "matter-of-factly" tell someone I'm in training I thank you. Every time I look in a mirror and see a woman I am proud and happy to be--a woman who was once hidden by fat and anger and shame--I thank you.

Whether I make it through the finish at 3:59:59 or if I break my foot and can't finish at all, coming this far is a great achievement.  I'm doing it for me, but I am inspired and motivated to do it because of you. I am proud to be your sister and so excited to be following in your tracks. I love you!

It's Lime Backwards

My grandfather taught me the importance of being able to build and fix things yourself. He taught me that catching a fish is not the only reason to go fishing. He taught me that living simply can be relaxing and rewarding. He was so often joyful. He loved his big family, he loved having kids around, he loved serious conversation and light chatting and silly joking. He made the best of everything he was given.

And he died today. Easter Sunday, the day Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. A day meant for sunshine and daffodils and sweet treats and children playing and celebrating with loved ones. I can't think of a more appropriate day for him to go.

creep

"I can't promise you anything," he murmured to me between kisses.

"No one can promise anyone anything," I said into his neck through the haze of the long, crazy night.

My meaning didn't register with him. "I'm not a good guy..."

I buried my face in the pillow, struggling to remember what I had wanted to tell him all week. "I just don't want you to think I'm the type of girl who'd be here with just anybody...because it's not like that. I'M not like that."

"I know you're not. That's why I'm telling you I can't promise you anything." There was genuine urgency in his voice. He likes me...but he was more concerned for himself than for me. He's the kind of person who'd throw fists first and ask questions later if someone hurt a friend, and he can't hit himself really. But I guess at least I can say we're friends.

I turned away from him and rolled my eyes, glad he couldn't see my face as I glowered at the movie poster on the wall. "I didn't ASK you for anything. I can take care of myself." I noticed his words weren't stinging me the way they once might have. I'm getting used to this.

I just know that when he touches me, or even comes close, it's like an electric current separates my skin from my body. That's it. That's all I've got.

Well...that and tonight. What's wrong with that?

At least he's man enough to tell me...I think that helps a lot with my feelings. At least I know he respects me enough to tell me instead of clamming up until I put out and then dodging my phone calls later. But that's not really his style, the same way it isn't mine, and it's one of the reasons he's so attractive to me.

But it's the same old story. He's putting words into my mouth. He's assuming that, because I'm a woman, I want to club him on the head and claim him as my own. He's assuming I consider myself the least bit ready to be more than just a friend to anyone. Or that I think about him as more than what he is to me. He assumes I'm not using him the same way he's using me. They ALL do this. It's a form of narcissistic thoughtlessness that really pisses me off.

Don't assume that women are all the same, and don't think for one second that you know what's going on in my brain unless I tell you outright. And above all don't assume I can't take care of myself where men are concerned. I'm not as innocent as I like to look.

Cardiac Arrest

It seems like I'm always losing things...keys, papers, money, friends...I've put in place rather efficient systems for keeping keys and papers and money in their proper places where I can find them, but friends aren't that easy. You can't keep a friend in the same pocket and expect it to be there every time you reach in. Friends are people, with lives and issues and obligations to third parties. And it hurts worse when you lose your friends than it does when you lose your keys.

To avoid the hurting I've put in place an efficient system; when friends suddenly aren't in the place I've made up for them in my life I give up. I sew up the pocket so that it doesn't seem so empty. I pretend to be blithely irked, or slightly disinterested, or in cases of great hurt I may even grow haughtily angry. But really I'm just clutching the pocket closed with all my might, as if all the warm happy friendliness I have will spill out onto the sidewalk, never to be recovered. The clutching gives me a similar false sense of security to the one I experience when friends do stay in the right pocket.

I don't know what to do when things change suddenly. I usually freeze, unable to move, terrified and quite positive that I am about to experience another loss. So many friends have come and gone...but it's still hard every time. I mean, it's hard for me when I lose a t-shirt at the cleaner's, so of course I hold my friends dear and clutch desperately for their hands in the dark.

What if one day they're not there anymore?

Hearts, stars, unicorns, rainbows, snuggles, kittens, love, friendlies and brick ovens!

I'm in a really good mood today! I think this is not unwholly due to the opportunity to make a buttload more money on the next job, even if it isn't my dream job, even if it's only a few weeks. And I've been working out ideas to help with my goal, and I have a really big lead on making this goal happen. My lead is moving to Austin, Texas this weekend, but he fully plans on coming back this fall to make the movie he wrote, and I'm doing my damnedest to figure out the rest.

Mama Squirrel has this 'manifesting' thing she talks about all the time, and it really works for her. Basically she has an idea of something she wants and then she jabbers about it for a while and then she lets it stew. She's into witchy spiritual stuff so I think there's some of that involved. In my imagination, she makes or finds some little object that represents the thing she wants and then puts it in a little metal box to let it come about. Like baking. I'm not much for spiritual stuff but I like the idea of letting your goals brown in an oven until you're ready for them. So I think I'm gonna find a little box to put stuff in and set it on my windowsill.

kyle the girl
(on iPhone)

Binary Orbit

I feel good today--no, GREAT today. I mostly attribute this to the rearranging of furniture, which is taking place in my bedroom at a glacial pace, but is allowing me to feel rather accomplished when I complete small steps of the project like, say, filing things I should have filed months ago, or putting away laundry or moving a few items from one end of the room to the other.

The next greatest factor in my improved state of being is the microvacation that marked the end of working on Long Movie Job, but with the promise of Quick Unit Shoot around the corner. After a nice weekend hanging out with Cheshire Cat and his friends, spending a little time with Thinky Face and revisiting my roommates I spent a couple days upstate with Helicopter and then a day at home to dick around and do nothing. Now that I'm all rested and recharged I feel like a million bucks! I'm ready to take on the world...or at least my new job, which starts tomorrow and (bonus) pays a living wage.

While upstate, Helicopter's fiancé and his father and brother were re-siding her cute little suburban home, and they spent a lot of talk time telling me about all the other "improvements" they plan on making to their house; stuff like moving walls and additions and roofing and renovating the bathroom. Hardly just cosmetic repairs. The sight of the dumpster in the front yard and the good-natured but high-volume din of power tools was enough to make me never want to buy a home again. I can't wait to get rid of the one I have.

As part of the overhaul the front door had been replaced, but without a latch so the fellas were pretty much land-locked at the house. I quickly noticed Helicopter's role took on the very traditional female role of gatherer/chef, and we were often sent on errands to pick up things like fried chicken (lunch), or plastic bottles of sugary lemonade beverages, which seems to be what people drink instead of water in that part of the country.

Admittedly I'm no fried chicken expert or even enthusiast, but after standing in the chicken shack for five minutes I could feel the grease seeping into my pores and knew it would be a cold day in hell before I ate anything from that place. When we returned to the house I said I wasn't hungry, I'd only eaten breakfast a few hours before (which was true), so I opted for a midday run instead. Four miles of gorgeous mountain views beats a bucket of fat-dipped chicken and mayonnaise-drenched cabbage any day, as far as I'm concerned.

On my return I spent some one-on-one time with Heli, basking in the sheer joy of being with my best friend after a long absence. Coupled with the relief of her returning safely from combat it caused a great wave of calm and comfort to pass over me. There she was, right in front of me, MY Helicopter. We've been apart too much over the last few years and now, finally, she's just a short train ride away and she's gonna stick around for a while.

It's amazing how the lives of two people will converge and then suddenly shoot away from each other in opposite directions. When she left for basic training my brain went on leave while I developed and honed my drug habit. When I finally came back to reality we reconvened with no love lost, all forgiven. Then I fell in love, dropped out of school and moved across the country. She lived the college life, went on spring break in Jamaica, and graduated with honors as a lieutenant in the US Army. She moved to L.A. on her own while I was getting engaged in Louisiana. While I was grounding myself in France and realizing my need for independence she was learning to fly in Alabama and falling for a fellow pilot. I realized domestic life wasn't for me and took off my ring within weeks of her committing for the first time in her life. For a brief hiccup she was there to catch me when I fell, terrified and excited, into the waiting hum of New York, and then she was gone to war, her man at her side, living in what she calls a dreamlike state while I was flung facefirst into the harsh reality of the City.

Now that she's back I wonder if our lives will ever be in the same place at the same time again. She's so happy with her little house and her big man with red state politics and her spoiled dog and brand-new cars and pickup truck and meat and potatoes diet and market-stimulating consumerism and TiVo and quaint little rural town. Just a few days with it all and I'm reminded that it's just not for me, that I don't even want to want it. The trees are nice.

At first glance, nobody would realize this is the same woman I once kissed passionately in a baby pool before an audience of hundreds, slathered head to toe with the chocolate pudding in which, moments before, we had wrestled one-another to a draw. But maybe they wouldn't recognize me either. We've both come a long way.

kyle the girl
(via BlogPress)

El Presidente

Hi!

I'm drunk. Drunky drunk drunk. Yay!

Went out to dinner with some work folks and there was so much wine of a type that I do not remember, but it was very very good. Dinner was super awesome at the Spice Market. Sooo awesome. I recommend the red curry duck and also the mango salad. Yummm. Go with a party of 12 or more so that it's family style, because family style is so much more fun. Especially when production is paying. Try the lychee raspberry bellini or (OOH!) the ginger margarita!

The President (my boss) is...well...awesome. We shared a cab. There was bonding. She reminded me in her silly drunky drunkerson talk that I gotta keep on pushing for the things I want and toward being what I want to be. She reminded me I don't need to care about what other people are doing to get where I want, just about what I'm doing. She reminded me that my life is mine and that I gotta take good care of it because nobody else will take care of it for me. There is no deus ex machina ending for me. There is no magic wand to wave to make it all perfect. (Oh yeah...now I remember...)

It was super cute because it was in her silly little drunky voice, but also because I didn't realize that she noticed I've been sad lately. It's nice that she noticed. It's nice that she cares and that she wants me to be better. I need to move up in the world so we can be friendlier and less bossy/employeeish. I'm nervous to be too friendly with her because of that boss thing. But then again I would do anything for her, which is (along with bird-in-the-hand factor) why I took another job with her that will carry me through the summer, even though I so so so want to move on to a different department.

"Don't worry, dear," she slurred. "We'll get through it."

The bus

The bus is all blue. Smile at the driver and say hello. Fall to the back. Nestle into the single seat by the door. Dangle my legs like a little girl, happily thinking of you, my friend. Listen to music and enjoy how it makes me feel connected. For a moment I am out of the water, warm and dry, able to breathe. The sun shines through the window. I wonder when I'll see you again, when you can come out and play. I cross my ankles and swing my feet. I would like to go to the park and feel grass under my toes and make daisy chains out of dandelions. Can you come out and play? The world seems big. I feel so little. The sun is kissing my cheek.

kyle the girl
(on iPhone)

Resolute

Over the holidays I got to be closer friends with Philosophy. She's a super gal; we've had similar experiences and we just kind of get each other.

Anyway, Phil is one of the few friends I've made that doesn't think I'm crazy for running. In fact, she's training for a marathon next July in San Francisco. I wanna play!

So yesterday I woke up at 5 am, a good two hours before dawn. I groggily tugged on my tights and sport bra and layers of t-shirts. I tied my shoes. I drank a glass of water. I pinned keys inside my clothes and quietly made my way downstairs. 5:30 on a Saturday...barely anyone on the street except some kids coming home from a night out and a few people unlucky enough to have to leave for work. I jogged down to Grand Army Plaza, met up with Phil, and together we trotted into the park.

It was like being in another world, just the two of us an a precious few other brave pioneers in the dark. We kept the pace light, chatting a bit. It was freezing. It was like the rest of the world didn't exist. For the first time since I lost my job I felt like everything is going to be okay. I felt like I could breathe.

At the end as we raced back out of the park, tents were being set up for the green market and the Christmas Cone lit up in all different colors. Grand Army Plaza felt like a finish line. I felt strong and happy and glad to be alive. We crossed the edge of the park and gave each other a sweaty, breathless hug.

Hopefully it was the first of many.

A very sticky phoenix

When I was a little kid my mom used to play this little game with me nearly every time she sat or laid down on the floor. When it was time to get up she would claim she was "stuck in the glue" so that I would pull her up by her arms and help her off the floor. The game was always more fun when she resisted as much as possible!

I feel like I really have been stuck in some glue lately. The glue is attached to another person. I like the person very much in that way that I like my most awesome and special of friends. It is in that way that I like my crazy helicopter-pilot-ballerina and PDF and Kelley from New Orleans. I don't just like these people, I absolutely love them. Any of them will tell you I place a very high value on relationships, and that I can be very intense with my friendship. They can also tell you it's because I have a hard time relating to most people that they in particular are so very extra special to me.

The glue went sour with PDF many many years ago. He isn't good at handling my intensity the way Helicopter and Banana are. He's narcissistic, and often forgets the fine line between placating and patronizing, which brings out the down side of my intensity...I get fussy when the objects of my affection disappoint me with things like disregard for my feelings. I don't love him any less but I've definitely learned a lesson or two about pedestals and how I should not put people on them, and I certainly no longer expect him to be anything other than the most generous selfish person I know.

Anyway, back to the present day.

I can see the glue getting sour now. I can see myself putting my new friend on a pedestal and expecting to see greatness shining down on me in the form of respect and understanding. I am expecting that the intensity of my feelings of friendship will be seen for what they are. I am expecting to find returned intensity. And I can also see that I am setting myself up for disappointment!

I fear that my new friend is afraid of my intensity. I fear that my new friend thinks it is something it is assuredly not. I fear that I have allowed myself to feel comforted in the presence of my new friend, as if I can stop my pursuit of new adventures and new friends and new places because I have found one of the things I was looking for. I told myself it was because I started working again. Well if that's not a big pile of garbage, I don't know what is.

It's not like I'm going to detach myself. It's not like I'm going to love my new friend any less. I'm just going to keep on diving down those rabbit holes and living like there's no tomorrow and looking for the next adventure, because that's who I am, and even though I wish that all my best friends were the same way, they just aren't. And that's okay.

In fact, it probably makes me look even cooler. Alright!

The Prospect Park Brunch Club

About a month ago my roommates and the Sound Scientist and I started the Prospect Park Brunch Club. We had our fourth meeting today and it just keeps getting better and better! I'm really glad to be building some community in the neighborhood and it's a great forum to bring friends to meet other friends! Anyone is welcome, even aunties if they'd like. :) We usually post up the next week's location sometime mid-week.

Cheers, assholes.

So a few months ago at this awesome party, Banana Payroll and The Art Shrew and I were approached by some nice enough lady. We talked to her for a while, but as the evening wore on she got progressively more and more drunk and more and more obnoxious. We tried to walk away from her, but she just kept following us around, sloppily raising her wine glass and slurring, "Cheersssh, assholeshh." Try as we might to just leave the situation with some dignity and do our own thing our own way, she was just so lame and pathetic that she could not let us go and she kept making the situation worse for everyone. I don't know, maybe she was fascinated by our ability to just move on with our lives.

I feel like this is the perfect metaphor for today.

So.

Yeah, I write down my feelings--sometimes those are hard to deal with and I write things out of anger or frustration... But I give myself this outlet so that I can keep the anger and frustration out of my life. After all, I would hate to become so lame and pathetic that I can't let someone walk away from a bad situation without making it worse for them. Right?

"Cheers, assholes!" has become a sort of rallying cry for Payroll and Art Shrew and I. Life got you down? "Cheers, assholes!" In a dating slump? "Cheers, assholes!" Stressed out? "Cheers, assholes!" Lost your job? "Cheers, assholes!"

We own it now; it's ours. We have taken her attempt at insulting us and completely subverted it.

The three of us have danced with Rock Bottom, so when someone treats us like crap it just rolls off our backs now. We're used to it, and we're prepared to laugh in its face. We have nothing to lose because we expect nothing. It's like walking into battle with no armor, just a body full of scars...you're not afraid of one more. So by all means, raise your glass of wine with me, give a "Woo!" and sing it out to the world at large, to each other, to anyone who will listen. Say it with love. Say it with irony. Say it just because it sounds good.

"CHEERS, ASSHOLES!"

Peanut Shell

That's Salty's baby bump! It moves and wiggles!


I'm helping put on her baby shower tomorrow and hopefully everything will go off without a hitch! It's become much more of a big deal than I ever thought it would be, but I guess that's good. I have some mixed feelings about it though.

It's wonderful that my sister gets big, beautiful parties for her life choices (like wedding showers and baby showers and stuff). Really, it's wonderful. I would throw parties for Salty three times a month just because she's the best sister ever. But sometimes I feel like I get the shaft because my life choices involved turning tail and running away from the man I was about to marry. I don't ever want to have children. I take on New York City instead of staying close to home. God forbid I should start dating another woman...I'd lose any inkling of hope for parties and stuff.

Auntie R (Aunt J's wife, for all intents and purposes) was really touched that I introduced her to people with the moniker of "Aunt R--" but why wouldn't I? Aren't all my uncles' wives my aunts? Aren't all my Aunts' husbands my uncles?

It made me think about my life choices. I know these things are better for me. I know they are my choices. But I can't help feel like it isn't fair that our culture would have encouraged me to get married to JH instead of leaving him. It would have encouraged me to have his children even though I don't want to procreate. That culture is the reason I stayed with him as long as I did. I thought I had to try...I thought that making a home and a family was going to make me happy.

God, I was such an idiot.

I've been incredibly busy at work. All my other spare time of late has been wrapped up trying to move, which is at least a part-time job. I live an eight hours' drive away, for heaven's sake! I have great excuses for not putting much effort into this baby shower, but I still feel like I've been dragging my feet on it because I feel a little offended by the whole cultural-encouragement-of-marriage-and-family thing.

I regret it. I do. It's not fair to Salty or to Mom--both of whom put in a ton of work on this party--and somehow I'm still going to get a lot of the credit. And two not-fairs don't make an are-fair. Or something.


Wow, that does not make much sense. But hey, at least I wrote a real post about something really real! And at least I wrote it not a week after it happened!

"It's weird," said Mom about the music. "It sounds like a horror movie or something."

I've been chatting a little with the Sound Scientist, and the more I talk to him the more interesting he gets. He's an experimental musician, which kind of falls into my "Uh-huh, sure, whatever" category of art appreciation, but I found some of his music online (stalky stalky now) and it's actually really interesting and soothing. It sounds kind of like his voice.

He worked on a piece about the bridges in Cleveland. He knows more about them than I do, which is kind of cool since they've always fascinated me. I've always wanted to do a color photography set about them and I've wondered for a long time when I'm ever going to get the chance.

Now that my job on the film is over (and yes, it's absolutely over) I'm casually scoping out the work scene for on-location jobs in or around Cleveland. It would be great to find a temporary gig here and be able to spend some time with Mom and Salty (and Peanut!).

Working out with Arnold on the roo-oo-oof

How weird was my roof party?

Well! Last Thursday the film I'm working on got shut down, so a bunch of people from work went out and drank and I cabbed it home with my boss at 1:30 a.m. Then on Friday we were told there was still hope--to stop packing up and hold on until mid-week--so a bunch of people from work went out and drank and I cabbed it home at 2:45 a.m. I had planned and advertised a party for Saturday and guess what? Nobody from work came! No surprise there--if it hadn't been my party I probably wouldn't have gone either.

Nonetheless it turned out to be a hit. Thinky Face came, and so did a bunch of Roommate #1's friends. Aunt J and Auntie R came out and brought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers to congratulate on the new pad. It actually wound up being a very relaxed, laid back evening (but deep down I'm pretty pissed about so many people saying they'd come and then not showing--if you aren't gonna come it's okay, just say so).

Anyway, much of the evening was spent in awareness of another roof party across the back yards. These people were, apparently, insane. They were all dancing...really badly. There appeared to be rhythm, but the moves were all just so strange we weren't sure what to make of it. Aunt J was pretty convinced they were on some kind of upper. Some time around 1:30 someone suggested we ask them. Being "a little tipsy," I shouted across the courtyard at them! "Hey... HEY!!" Finally I got someone's attention. He ran to the edge of the roof and strained to hear as I yelled, "What are y'all DOING?"

"Working out with Arnold!" came the reply. I didn't understand until later what he meant, so my next question was, "What are you guys on!?"

He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his palms in incredulity. "Uh... Beer?"

Someone else in my party shouted, "Do you have any more beer?"

"No! I think we're out!"

"Well come on over!"

A few minutes later Thinky Face and I were teaching Roommate #1's friend to bellydance when someone said, "Uh, [Miss A]? We have a visitor from across the way. This is [the Sound Scientist]!" As hostess I greeted him and his friends, gave him a drink and chatted a bit, when suddenly he asked, "This might sound kind of weird but are you on Twitter?"

As it turns out, I had responded to a tweet of his once--I probably saw it using the "Nearby" feature of the Twinkle iPhone app, which shows me tweets in my local area--and ever since he has followed my updates. Weird! Crazy weird!

We sat up talking like ALL night. As it turns out, we not only tweet at each other, we also have similar tastes and interests. So yay, I have a brand new friend to go with my brand new neighborhood! And it's all thanks to being a nerd. I knew I would find more of my kind eventually.

In other news, subway cars are perpetually too hot, but the one I'm in now is f-f-frrreeeeeeezing! Also I travel to Cleveland tonight for Salty's baby shower! Go Peanut!

Me and the Art Shrew in The Frying Pan

The Port O' Call came to Brooklyn!

My friends Alabama Slamma and Uptown Girl came to visit New York this weekend to see Radiohead at the All Points West festival and to take in the sights a bit. It was so good to have a little slice of my old NOLA scene come see me here in the King of Boroughs.

Uptown Girl and I share a best friend in New Orleans and have always gotten along almost better than we do with her, since of takes a particular kind of person to put up with her idiosynchrasies. Shortly before I left my old life behind I spent two magical days on the beach in Gulf Shores, Alabama with said best friend and the two dear ones who are now staying a stone's throw away in Queens.

Short as it was, that vacation was the most fun I had had in years. The three of them had gone on a whim and invited me, but I declined in deference to my work ethic. The same Sunday night they left I had one of a series of massive fights with JH. I had to get the hell out of there, so I hopped in my car without telling him where I was going and drove until I got there, leaving a voice mail with my boss to say I was taking a personal day.

Four hours later I pulled my little Nissan into the parking lot of a shady little hotel across the street from the beach, my cheeks still stained from salty tears. I was welcomed by the girls with open arms and no questions asked. Uptown Girl poured some combination of liquor and juice into an impossibly tall plastic cup and we retired to the beach.

For the next day and a half we spoke almost exclusively in ridiculous Alabama Twang. We bitched about the men in our lives, played drinking games like it was going out of style and flirted with teenaged boys on the beach. We barely swam, much preferring the sun to the surf. Although I never really talked about it with the other girls, I decided then that it was over between me and JH. I realized that I would be far better off without him. I knew I had to follow my dream and come to New York.

Uptown doesn't know it (and may never) but it was her example of inependence and self assuredness that made me realize I could do it. And for her to be here now and see me thriving and happy.... Well I can't think of one person from my old life that I'd rather see!

The little picture is dark, but it's all I got, and I'm okay with that. The night was so dark and drizzly, it captures the mood pretty well.

I refuse to admit defeat!

I called the Hipster Socialite at 12:34 am. "Hey I'm almost there!" "Great! We're on the roof. The door is open so come on up!"

After we met HS and I had been talking for weeks and just never made it out together. From the appearance of things he's kind of a mess, but something told me he's worth the trouble. He reminded me of JH a little, but light years more sure of himself, and with the promise of something more. He's cute. He's nice. He's Salty's age. He calls me because he feels like it and we have fun talking to each other.

Sooo I met him at a party at 12:50 a.m., already tipsy from wine and dinner. He was cuter than I remembered and he introduced me to his friends. He's silly and friendly and a little shy. His friends were sweet and funny. They reminded me of my New Orleans friends but less married. They reminded me of my college friends all grown up.

He was sober. If his inhibitions had been looser I think he might have kissed me. If I had been less drunk I might have kissed him. I wanted to kiss him but I was intimidated by his friends. I didn't want to be that drunk girl who was kissing HS. And besides, there's always drama when you kiss someone for the first time at a party with their friends around...I have not-dated enough to know that quite well. The piñata broke. We sucked on lollipops and made eyes at each other while talking in groups.

Suddenly it became time to go. I didn't want to leave him though--there hadn't been enough time to talk to him. I felt like I could sit up talking to him all night long. He squeezed my hand as I followed him down the stairs with his two drunken friends. We (I) hailed a cab. The drunk girls hurried him and I said, "I'm going toward Prospect Park." He looked at me for a long minute apologetically and then hugged me. "I have to take care of them," he said. "Call me tomorrow?" he got in to the taxi and suddenly I was alone on the street.

I was alone, drunk, and confused. I thought we were having fun... I thought his friends seemed to like me. I thought he would at least put me in a cab!

I'd had a rough couple of days with money (went and got my petty cash wallet stolen) and my poor judgment told me it was a good idea to take the subway home. While strolling (weaving probably) home in the early morning light I noticed I was walking on 10th street. (Oh come on!)

I got a series of text messages from the Hipster Socialite; the theme was, "I'm sorry but I have to take care of my friends first and you said you were fine to get a cab." That last part is true; I did say I was fine. I did hail the cab for them. I did hear myself say "go go go!" as his friends climbed over each other and into the taxi. He'd asked me again, I'd reassured him I was fine before that long "I want to kiss you" look he gave me.

There's that I don't need help thing again. Why did I do that when what I wanted was some help (and sure, maybe a kiss or two)? Did I not trust him to help me? Do I feel like I have to take all responsibility on myself? Was I sympathizing with his bros before hos behavior? Was it the alcohol that made me say I was okay by myself even though I knew I wasn't?

Potentially lame but free Sobieski Vodka party

OMG! Me too!!

I am totally going to this party. I am totally going because Rebecca is going to be there. I am totally leaving relatively early to go to some swanky bar, where I fully plan to make out with the Hipster Socialite, who is my new favorite New Yorker. Oh, I didn't mention him?

Well look for that coming up. Meanwhile, I'll be drinking free vodka with other cool New York bloggers and kissing a resident of Williamsburg. He told me on the phone about twenty minutes ago that that's exactly what will happen the very next time I see him. And I'm kind of thrilled!

And thrilled to meet Rebecca's husband for the first time...It's like we're real friends, not just friends from blogland! :)

HI! J/K. LMNOP!

LMNOP stopped in to NYC for a few days on her way to Amsterdam for a rendez-vous with an ex BF's BFf, who may or may not become her FWB. We had bunches of fun! Some of her other New Yorker friends met up with us; Adjunct went with us to the Top of the Rock, which was sadly not that impressive, since it had been raining all day. We amused
ourselves with the funky light show going on in one of the foyers (brought to you by some sponsors) though, and seeing the Empire State and Chrysler buildings shooting up through the fog was really cool. They reminded me of the funky quartz pillars embedded in the walls around the escalators.

The next night we met up on 7th Avenue and cruised around the West Village for a while before heading to Cowgirl for dinner. (LMNOP had requested a good salad, and their "all chopped up" is consistently hailed to me as one of the best in town.) A few watermelon martinis and other, tequilaful beverages later, we were giggling into the night, wandering around in circles looking for a good rocks margarita. We settled on Agave; a friend of a friend works there, and I suspected they would do well by us. They most certainly did for L-, but as per usual, a bottle of rum caught my eye and I ordered a mojito instead.

We chatted and slurped up our lime-y drinks, talking about how well I fit in New York and how L- wants so badly to follow her dreams. I tried to convince her to just not come back from her England/Amsterdam trip.

Speaking of Amsterdam, L- admitted that she was a bit nervous about smoking the dope for the first time. She's 26, and never puffed on a joint in her life! I told her she'd be fine. "You've smoked a cigarette before, right?" She looked up at me like a deer in the headlights. Before I knew it, we were standing on the corner with a pack of Marlboro Lights, tearing through nearly an entire box of matches trying to get a light despite the summer breeze and our tipsy giggles. "This is gross!" she coughed. All I could do was laugh. "You're not doing it right! Actually, it's not good for you anyway. It's probably better if you don't do it right!"

I wasn't a very good teacher, but I was at least appreciative of her company. She's such a sweet, awesome gal and she's working as hard to figure out this life thing as I am--she's just really scared, the way I used to be. She's got it. She knows what she has to do, and she'll get there with the right nudge. At dinner I looked straight at her and said, "Tearing my life up by the roots and moving to New York was the greatest thing I have ever done to advance my personal happiness. I would love nothing more than to hear that you got on that plane, flew to England, and never came back." I know she'll be back in New Orleans in a couple of weeks and that's okay. These things take time.

Thanks so much for visiting, LMNOP! I had so much fun and I miss you already!