Waiting

Closet optimist though I may be, it seems quite often that I find myself in this position--waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I've been back in NYC for roughly 4 days now.  The first was spent feverishly cleaning my apartment--which was absolutely filthy--and taking care of various other lovely chores such as buying a pair of clippers to shave off half of my cat's coat, which was so incredibly matted that it rendered all other options impossible.  Late that evening, Froggy-Clause dropped off "I'm Sorry" presents on the doorsteps on my landlord and my downstairs neighbors, hoping to smooth things over.

The second two days were spent with my parents--respectively getting drunk (after buying me a new vacuum--mine committed suicide in spectacular fashion whilst trying to rescue my rugs from the aftermath of Hurricane CFL) and recovering from the resultant hangover.

At the tail end of day 2 of Parental Visitation, while I was ushering them into a car service car to get them back to their hotel, I ran into my landlords on the steps.  They were rushing inside with some sort of food, and the wife--with whom all of my communication while abroad took place--said simply "Hi, welcome back, we'll talk later," while the husband added "Hi, happy holiday weekend!" before following her inside.  That was the extent of our communication since my return.

And now I sit here, awaiting that very "later" like the Sword of Damocles, or Edgar Allan Poe's Pendulum.  I have no idea what this conversation will entail--will she simply fill me in on the remainder of CFL's outrageous behavior?  Raise my rent as a penalty?  Inform me that they're now kicking me out as well?  I cannot keep these fears from racing through my head with such rapidity that my strongest instinct is simply to hide.  Hey, if she can't find me, she can't kick me out... right?

I wish I could just calm down, but each time I discover a new piece of debris from this train wreck--all of my towels put away in the bathroom and absolutely filthy... like with stuff crusted on them--my fear of the final windfall increases ten-fold.

I have the distinct feeling that life is hiding behind a corner, just waiting to chew me up and spit me out.  I guess there's nothing for it except simply to wait and see...

Because really, what´s one more straw?

Greetings Campers.

Yes, yes, I know that I told you I wouldn´t be writing again until I was State-side, but I truly feel the need to share with you the newest straw that has been added to the back of this very pissed off camel (aka, yours truly).

I believe I mentioned at some point that Slater was originally to accompany me on this grand voyage, but that unexpected career opportunities required him to return to the States instead.  Well, apparently when he cancelled his flight home from Peru, the geniuses at STA Travel also deigned to cancel MY flight home as well!  Because really, that makes SO much sense!

So here I am at the Lima airport, nice and early for my 12:00 flight, only to be told that my reservation has been cancelled and the flight is now full.  I ask if there are any seats available in the other classes--willing to suck it up and pay so long as it gets me home--but apparently my student-rate ticket is not elligible for upgrade.  In the end, they found a seat for me on another flight, which leaves at 3:00pm (oh joy, 5 hours to kill in the Lima airport), and doesn´t get me back to the States until sometime around 3:00am.  Fucking JOY!!

And with that, my darlings, this camel is officially DONE with travel.  Someone just teleport my ass home already.

Also, at the moment when I am perhaps least prepared to deal with it, I get a long, apologetic email from CFL.  Seriously, what more could the universe possibly have in store for me??

Wait.  It's probably best that you don't answer that.

Some Final Thoughts on Travel

In the world of hosteling, a hot shower can totally make your day.

Wearing the same pair of pants nearly every day for 2 weeks sounds far worse than it actually is.

Same goes for wearing the same outfit three days in a row.  It beats uprooting your entire backpack for the sake of a different t-shirt (just keep the clean underwear close to the top), and remember: the only person who knows what you were wearing yesterday, is you.

I am a freaking packing genius.  TIP: plastic bags and a roll of masking tape work wonders toward fitting more in your luggage than you ever thought possible.  Particularly if, um, you can´t stop purchasing alpaca sweaters, hats, socks, etc.

Just because I am alone does not mean I am in search of company.  Sometimes, sure, it's nice to have someone to talk to, but other times I am simply basking in my complete and utter anonymity.

Which, of course, doesn't stop me from being utterly convinced that a guy I knew in college is sitting at the computer next to me in a net cafe in Aguas Calientes... yet I say nothing, instead emailing another friend to say "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know if So-And-So is in Peru... would you?"

(For the record, I'm now fairly certain that it wasn't him--when he stood up he looked too short. However, if there were any person in the world that I could randomly run into in Peru, it would be him.)

There is never enough time to do and see all that you want.  However, the knowledge that you've done and seen more than you had when you started is an awfully sweet consolation prize.

___________________
Heading back to the States tomorrow, and back online on Friday after the 'rents deliver my computer (which made it to their house from Ireland intact, hoorah!).  It's been a long and somewhat crazy ride, and it's going to take me some time to get my feet back on the ground... but my thoughts are already flying ahead of me, back to New York and all that awaits me there: the aftermath of CFL (did I mention that bitch somehow managed to TRIPLE my motherclucking electric bill??  At this point I'm almost prepared to just let karma have its way with her, because her come-uppance?  Is gonna be massive); my ginormous culminating project for grad school; the Spanish conversation group I signed up for after realizing how much I've forgotten; job auditions; prepping lesson plans for a job Í'm applying for in Japan; my 10 year HS reunion (which one of the cool kids has personally asked if I will be attending); a baby shower for Evil Ex Roommate... the list goes on.

Real life never waits... but every now and then we have to put her on hold for awhile and deal with the aftermath as it comes.

Happy Trails Friends!  See you State-side!

Magnetic Poetry Mondays

In honor of the last Magnetic Poetry Monday, it's a haiku!



Back in the States in two days! Thanks for sticking around kids!!

Fuzzy Brained and Fancy Free

My brain... is not working properly at all.  I blame the altitude (3400 meters above sea level is no joke!) and the travel cold that descended upon me while in Arequipa.  My sinuses are completely blocked and it does not feel good.  However, despite my dopey-headed condition, I am totally in love with Cusco.  I wish I had more time to spend here, 5 days is simply not enough--particularly when one of them will be spent getting to and exploring Macchu Pichu, and another exploring some of the surrounding towns.

My hostal--recommended to me by a couple of Austrian cyclists I met in Lima--is lovely, albeit the water in the shower is a bit on the chilly side.  And for the past few days I´ve been the only English speaker in the entire place, so my Spanish skills have certainly been put to the test (and, I must admit, found to be a bit lacking).  This morning as I was having breakfast a British man showed up, and it actually felt weird to be speaking English to somebody.  Granted, there are a ton of tourists in Cusco, and many of them are English-speaking, but hearing it and actually speaking it are two different things entirely.  Does that make sense?  Please, forgive my congestion-addled brain. 

However, the Brit did suggest a medication to alleviate altitude issues, so I went and picked some up in a pharmacy this morning.  Sitting here in the net cafe hoping it kicks in before I head up to Sacsayhuaman, which is even higher than where I am now.  I plan to take a taxi to the top and then walk back down--being that I´ve been getting winded on very short up-hill climbs within the city, I figured that attemping a steep 2km climb to the fortress probably wasn´t the best idea.  Also, my guidebook says there are horseback tours around Sacsayhuaman and the surrounding sites, so hopefully I´ll be able to find one when I get up there.  If not, I´ll do my best with walking.

That´s about it for now.  Headed up to Macchu Pichu tomorrow, so I have to get my arse up quite early to make it to Ollantaytambo to catch my train (there were no trains available from Cusco, even booking a month in advance!).  I´ll be spending the night in Ollantaytambo and then the next day exploring that town, and also the town of Pisac, which is supposed to have any amazing market.  Not sure yet how I´m getting from one to the other, but I´ll figure it out.

Right, off to use the scary restroom here at the net cafe one more time, then find a taxi up to the fortress.

Oh, and the two guys sitting across from me have been checking me out constantly since they came in.  Honestly, it´s a bit distracting.  Flattering though, considering I haven´t been wearing make-up at all while I´ve been here.  Ah well, eye of the beholder and all that.

Peace!

Magnetic Poetry Mondays

Bright Sides and Space Men

I heard from the landlord today and apparently CFL and her friends (yes, plural, apparently bitch had an entire posse crashing in my fucking house) have vacated the premises.  She says that she thinks they cleaned up, as they put out some trash bags, but I've asked my darling A to please let me know if the place is completely trashed when she goes to check on the cat, so that I can mentally prepare myself before returning home.  Bet your ass I will be calling on some of my hippie friends to perform a cleansing ceremony in that apartment when I get back.

And if anything is damaged or missing, bitch is being taken to Small Claims Court.  Damn Skippy.

On the bright side, my landlord has accepted my multitudinous and profuse apologies, so hopefully this means I will not be getting evicted upon my return.  Knock wood.

So, in cheerier news, Greetings from Nasca!  I arrived this morning after a very early departure from the desert oasis of Huacachina, with two Canadian girls I met while sharing a taxi from the bus station and have been bumming around with.  We got to the Nasca airport around 10:30, and even though we had made a reservation, we still waited around for 4 hours before finally boarding a plane to see the Nasca lines.

First let me say that this ride is definitely not for anyone who gets motion sick.  The plane was tiny--seating six people, including the pilot--and there is lots of swerving and turning and flying at angles so as to get the best views of the lines.

That being said, the view itself?  Was AWESOME!  They route the flight in such a way that the lines you fly over first are the ones that are much harder to see and less impressive, but by the end they are freaking amazing.  I definitely think that the Spider is my favourite, and so I bought a pendant in the shape of it from one of the outrageously overpriced vendors at the airport who refuse to haggle.  Granted, "outrageously overpriced" in Peru is still fairly cheap by American standards, but being ripped off is still annoying, cheaply or otherwise.  However, I've decided that I must purchase something, no matter how small, in every town I visit... so overpriced Spider necklace it was.

The real question is: just how many alpaca sweaters will be in my posession by the time I leave Peru?  I already bought one on the first day in Lima, and there's still Arequipa (for which I am boarding an overnight bus in approximately 2 hours) and Cusco to go!

And then there's also alpaca hats, and gloves, and scarves, and dolls, and...

(Hey, if I can't bring an actual llama home with me, I'm going for the next best thing!)

In conclusion, for anyone considering a trip to Peru, I've got two hostel recommendations thus far:

Lima - Lex Luthor's House (Miraflores).  I was originally drawn in by the silly name, but the hostel itself is nice, has an extremely friendly cat (btw-Peruvian cats freakin love me... I've been using them to send vicarious love to my poor, neglected kitty), and a very helpful owner.  When I told him where I was headed, he gave me fliers for cheap hostels in nearly every town.  I'll be checking out his Arequipa recommendation tomorrow.  Either way, a friendly and inexpensive hostel that gives you free water!  Who could argue with that?

Huacachina - Desert Nights.  First of all, regardless of where you stay, just go to Huacachina.  It is awesome.  That being said, this is also a friendly and extremely cheap hostel.  Most of the staff speak Spanish but the owner is American and very helpful.  The hostel is also an adventure center and through them we booked a cheap trip in a dune buggy out in the desert to go sandboarding, as well as a trip to some of the local bodegas (wineries specializing in sweet wines and Pisco, a type of liquor).  She also booked our flight over the Nasca lines.  Plus the hostel is in the middle of an oasis, right by the lagoon, and has an inexpensive restaurant that is quite busy in the evenings.

Okay that's it for travel recommendations.  I'm sure there will be more to come.

And so, while I prepare for an overnight bus journey with visions of space men carved into the sides of mountains dancing in my head, I ask you: what is your most memorable travel experience?

Clusterf*ck Extraordinaire

So originally this was going to be a post all about how much I love Peru, and to make you all drool with jealousy as I wax poetic about sandboarding in the Peruvian desert... but instead, I feel the need to share with you life's inexplicable drive to temper every amazing experience with a little bit of dog shit.

You see, it seems that, despite all appearances, my subletter has turned out to be batshit crazy.

Oh, and an alocholic and a drug addict to boot.

I received this mind-blowing news around midnight of my last night in Brazil--when I was slightly drunk from our last-night-out festivities--and proceeded to have a complete and total mental breakdown to which Slater was witness and caretaker.  I am doing better with it now, but there is still a little part of me that is in shock.

Today I finally received a response to my two highly-apologetic emails to my landlord, first saying that she felt I intentionally mislead them about subletting (I didn't!!) and second detailing just some of the lunacy that has unfolded over the past several weeks, including:

• Crazy Fucking Subletter (CFL) wandering around the street barefoot and without underwear, completely disoriented and unaware of her surroundings, so that one of the landlords had to collect her and return her to the apartment, subsequently missing a day of work.  At this point he noticed that the apartment was filthy and my poor kitty apparently not well-cared-for.
• CFL and friends on the roof, and CFL later being out on the fire escape knocking on windows of other apartments, discombobulated, while her friends were still in my apartment.
• Perhaps as a result of the above, or perhaps due to some other incident, the neighbors have called the police on CFL, so the cops have been in the building taking her of her.

CFL has now been removed from my apartment by the landlords, and for the next week and a half of my absense my lovely friends will be stopping by to look after my poor neglected kitty so that hopefully she doesn't hate me when I get back.

I am somewhat terrified as to what, exactly, I am going to return to.  Are my landlords going to kick me out for this?  Has my apartment been completely trashed?  Are things missing, broken, or stolen?  Is my cat malnourished and miserable?  These are all of the thoughts cycling in the back of my head as I am off on this great adventure.  I am sitting here in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, but part of my brain is back in New York, wondering what sort of shit storm awaits me when I get back, and wondering why it is that whenever something in my life is going so wonderfully, something else has to go straight down the shitter alongside it?

Clusterf*ck Extraordinaire

So originally this was going to be a post all about how much I love Peru, and to make you all drool with jealousy as I wax poetic about sandboarding in the Peruvian desert... but instead, I feel the need to share with you life's inexplicable drive to temper every amazing experience with a little bit of dog shit.

You see, it seems that, despite all appearances, my subletter has turned out to be batshit crazy.

Oh, and an alocholic and a drug addict to boot.

I received this mind-blowing news around midnight of my last night in Brazil--when I was slightly drunk from our last-night-out festivities--and proceeded to have a complete and total mental breakdown to which Slater was witness and caretaker.  I am doing better with it now, but there is still a little part of me that is in shock.

Today I finally received a response to my two highly-apologetic emails to my landlord, first saying that she felt I intentionally mislead them about subletting (I didn't!!) and second detailing just some of the lunacy that has unfolded over the past several weeks, including:

• Crazy Fucking Subletter (CFL) wandering around the street barefoot and without underwear, completely disoriented and unaware of her surroundings, so that one of the landlords had to collect her and return her to the apartment, subsequently missing a day of work.  At this point he noticed that the apartment was filthy and my poor kitty apparently not well-cared-for.
• CFL and friends on the roof, and CFL later being out on the fire escape knocking on windows of other apartments, discombobulated, while her friends were still in my apartment.
• Perhaps as a result of the above, or perhaps due to some other incident, the neighbors have called the police on CFL, so the cops have been in the building taking her of her.

CFL has now been removed from my apartment by the landlords, and for the next week and a half of my absense my lovely friends will be stopping by to look after my poor neglected kitty so that hopefully she doesn't hate me when I get back.

I am somewhat terrified as to what, exactly, I am going to return to.  Are my landlords going to kick me out for this?  Has my apartment been completely trashed?  Are things missing, broken, or stolen?  Is my cat malnourished and miserable?  These are all of the thoughts cycling in the back of my head as I am off on this great adventure.  I am sitting here in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, but part of my brain is back in New York, wondering what sort of shit storm awaits me when I get back, and wondering why it is that whenever something in my life is going so wonderfully, something else has to go straight down the shitter alongside it?

Magnetic Poetry Mondays

Her name was Lola...

It's our weekend off in Rio and it freaking won't stop raining!  Yesterday we abandoned plans to take the Sugarloaf cable car (what's the point in challenging my gut-wrenching fear of heights when the entire city is shrouded in fog?) in favor of a hike through the rainforest in Tijuca National Park...which was positively lovely, but I still resent the foiling of my plans to spend the morning roasting on the beach. 

I had intended to rectify yesterday's thwarting by spending this morning sprawled on the Copacabana beach in my itty-bitty Brazilian Bikini (which will never see the light of day in any country other than this one), before heading to the hippy market in Ipanema this afternoon, but alas the weather had other ideas.  Hopefully the sun will make an appearance later today and we'll be able to get a few hours of beach time in before sunset.  My super-pasty-self needs a TAN!!

Also we drove past the Ipanema beach yesterday on our way back from the rainforest, and the men there were significantly hotter than in Copacabana.

Icky weekend weather aside, I absolutely love Rio.  The sprawl is intense--flying over on the way in I could hardly fathom the vastness of this place.  Wedged between enormous green, rocky mountains, every inch of flat land is positively covered.  In some places the sprawl continues up the sides of the mountains until the cliff faces become too sheer and the buildings appear as if they could simply slide off.  Even the favelas mimic the mountainous landscape, teetering asymetrically on top of one another in colourfully haphazard clusters.

I wish that our professors hadn't begun this experince by instilling us with a far-from-healthy level of paranoia about crime.  Thus far I have never felt threatened or unsafe, and I resent being made to feel that I must leave my  camera in the hotel or else... The result is that I have very few photos of this experience, and thus am doing my best to keep a mental record of what I love about Rio.

I especially love the beaches, which are beautiful, and the women, who come in all shapes and sizes, and who all wear the tiniest of bikinis, cellulite and stretch-marks be-damned.  Never in my life (or at least since puberty) have I felt less self-conscious on the beach--hence the purchasing of a nearly-non-existent bikini which now may never see the light of day.

I wish I had more time here--or more time outside the classroom. 

I have a sneaking suspicion that this will not be my last visit.

Magnetic Poetry Mondays

Seemed appropriate for the first full day in Rio.

Ah, Paris!

(title to be pronounced in uber-snooty French accent)

Greetings from Paris!

Well, from the airport and the surrounding area at any rate.  Slater and I are en route to Brazil and are here awaiting our flight, having spent the evening in a fairly wretched Comfort Inn, eating stale junk food for dinner as the vending machine was the only option by the time we reached the hotel... excellent!  Not exactly the Paris holiday of a Hollywood blockbuster, but at least we were able to sleep in a real bed as opposed to a bank of chairs at the airport.

Though there are some uber-modern chairs down the way that actually look pretty comfy... and the departure lounge smells much better than the hotel.  But I digress...

The wrap-up of Dublin was lovely.  Went out with some of the girls for "a drink" and proceeded to get schnackered and make friends with a bunch of Irish & English boys... the cutest of which is now my Facebook friend!  Woohoo!!

Really, that's about it.  I've got 2 minutes of overpriced internet left and our flight boards in 8 minutes, so... Farewell until Brazil!

Also, Round 2 of Postcards went out shortly before I left Dublin, so keep your eyes peeled!!

xoxo
-FP-

Endings and Beginnings

Well Campers, the Dublin leg of The Big Adventure is nearly complete... and I have WAY TOO MUCH TO DO this afternoon!  EEP!

I wanted to write something poignant, but I've realized that a.) I'm a little too hungover, and b.) I really just don't have time.  So, that being said, Ireland has been lovely and while I'm ready to head off on the next phase of my adventure, I'm definitely going to miss this place.

I bought a Clauddagh ring from a lovely man on Grafton Street this morning, and he told me that if you're wearing one when you leave Ireland, it means you'll come back.

You can bet this baby's not leaving my finger until somewhere over the Atlantic.

uhh...

Um, entertaining last-night-out in Dublin, to say the least.  Met some cute boys, one of which I just friended on Facebook with a very cheeky message.

Also, yesterday a friend of mine on the program came back from lunch break and had bought me a chocolate frog... because it made her think of me.  She doesn't know about the blog.

Weird.

Okay, drunk and it's crazy late and I have a breakfast meeting at 10am.  Yipe!!

xoxo

Magnetic Poetry Mondays

The one with no title.

Greetings, from the slowest computer on the planet!

I am on the verge of caving and actually spending €15 to get a week's worth of wireless access, even though I'd have to sit on the stoop of my building to use it... because as much as I love the Post Graduate Reading Room, the insane slowness of these computers is driving me mad!  Mad I say!!

In other news, Dublin is still lovely.  We've had the entire weekend off to recoup our sanity after the 2 day whirlwind tour of Belfast, which left more than a few of us feeling a bit raw for one reason or another.  One thing I'm finding personally difficult about this experience is that unlike the majority of my fellow students, I've been here before.  Particularly in dealing with a place like Belfast, which has such a mottled history, it seems that most of my compatriots are still processing this information on a very emotional level... which I've done already.  I'm approaching much of this work from a very different place, mentally, and that can be alienating.

I had my little emotional breakdown on Friday night, and Slater walked me around campus in the drizzle as I chainsmoked and vented my issues, and I'm feeling much better for it.  Yesterday I spent most of the day wandering aimlessly around Temple Bar on my own, which was lovely--though I wish I'd chosen my footwear more wisely... my arse muscles are killing me today!  I bought some pretty jewelry at the Designer's Market, watched some hot breakdancers, and got all my hair chopped off--hooray!  So much easier to manage now!!  Now I just have to figure out what "normal" colour I'm going to dye it before I hit South America.  I don't need to wave my tourist flag for all the Brazilians to see.

Last night we got very drunk.  Snippets of the evening--like sprawling across the cobblestones at Trinity, speaking in Scottish accents while waiting for friends who were buying cheeseburgers, and one of our group nearly getting run over by an ambulance--keep flitting back to me throughout the day.  Hi-lar-i-ous.

Today a few of us wandered over to Marion Square, where artists line the sidewalks on Sundays to sell... well.. art.  Some of it was positively astounding (and positively out of my price range) and some of it was less impressive.  I ended up buying myself a cute little ink drawing of two men hunkering down behind pints of Guiness, and I also found a pretty watercolour to give to my parents.

For the record, I've spent a lot of money this weekend.  A lot.  But by the same token I've barely spent any during the days when we're in class, so I'm thinking it balances out.

And now I should probably repair back to my room and try to work on my Grant Narrative which is due in a few days.  We'll see how productive I'm feeling by the time I get back there.

Oh!  And Round One of postcards went out last week... from the looks of things at least one has found its mark!  I just bought another stack this afternoon, so keep your eyes peeled, and thanks for playing!

Slainte!*

_________
*That's "cheers!" in Irish

Part Four

(It's Fiction Friday! Previous installments can be found here.)


Peter was hungover.

Truth be told, he’d been waking up hungover quite often recently-—and not only since an ill-timed bar bet had landed him sleeping in a trailer with this crew of derelicts and misfits.

Nice boys do not run off and join the circus. Peter used to think he was a nice boy.

Lately, he was not so certain.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, watching the fireworks that exploded there, and wondered how much it would take to bribe Harry into cleaning up the grounds this morning so the he could catch an extra hour of sleep.

Judging from the snores echoing above him, more than he could afford.

He looked at his watch. 6:30. Don would be banging down the door any minute now, best to beat the other guys out of this dump and avoid the verbal lashing that always came with oversleeping.

“Ouch! Shit!” He stumbled over an empty bottle of Jack Daniels as he climbed out of his bunk.

“Well, that explains the headache…”

He stumbled out into the blazing daylight and wondered for what felt like the millionth time just how exactly he had landed himself in this mess. His reverie was interrupted by Don’s deep baritone voice echoing over the lot.

“Hey! Walker!”

Peter groaned.

“What is it boss? I’m awake, aren’t I?”

“Walker it’s your lucky day.”

Peter groaned again. He had learned very quickly that Don’s idea of “luck” differed quite greatly from that of normal human beings. Visions of the underside of the tilt-o-whirl caused his already-unsettled stomach to churn as Don approached.

“Okay Don, what is it this time?”

“Big Man just bought a coupl’a animals off an outfit that went under ‘cross the valley. Need you to take the trailer and pick ‘em up.”

Peter waited. That didn’t sound so bad at all.

“Okay… that it?”

“Yep.”

“When do I go?”

“Jakes is still out in the truck, checking fliers. Go grab some breakfast, you leave as soon as he gets back.”

“Right. Sure. Okay.”

Don shuffled off with his usual air of indifference and menace, banging on trailer doors and cursing under his breath. Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

Pick up animals? How hard could that be?

Looked like today might not be so bad after all.

[to be continued]

The Dream

My feet are bare and bleeding.  Fucking pinecones.  How can something so perfect cause so much discomfort?  I feel like I've been walking for hours, I don't remember when I lost my shoes.  It's dark ahead, and getting light behind.  I'm running faster, chasing the night, and still these fucking pinecones!  They're everywhere!  A neverending sea of fractals.  Sharp fucking fractals.  And I'm running faster, toward god knows what.  I don't even know why I'm running, but my legs have taken control, pumping under me like the pistons of a steam engine, hurtling me toward an unknown destination.

And suddenly it's snowing.  The pinecones are gone and I'm standing on the edge of the ocean.  My footprints in the sand are dark--whether it's blood or water I couldn't say.  My breathing slows as the waves wash over my ruined feet, salt stinging in the open wounds.  The air smells like pitch.  Dark and dangerous.

I'm still looking for pinecones.  I can swear I see them in the crashing waves, seeking out the rest of me.  My shins, maybe, and then my knees.  Searching out every inch of flesh until I've been shredded away into nothing.

But they are only waves.  Washing calmly onto shore in the midst of my confusion.


*from a writing exercise we did in a workshop today.

Magnetic Poetry Mondays

In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty...

Greetings from the Post Graduate Reading Room of Trinity College, where I was moderately consumed by guilt while logging onto Facebook--the atmosphere indicating a level of studiousness not accomplished by status messages and wall posts.

This was an impromptu visit on the way home from dinner or I would have brought my jump drive, on which I have saved a few posts written on my laptop--no internet access in the rooms unfortunately.

I've been in Dublin since Sunday, and thus far I have not been disappointed.  The program is proving to be quite interesting, though the days have been long and we've had an incredible amount of information thrown at us in each session.  However, in the grand scheme of things a little mental fatigue is entirely worth it, as I have a feeling that this experience will be--and indeed, has already been--incredibly rewarding.

I wish I had more to say, but I'm a bit frayed and frazzled at the moment.  Also, I need to go back to my room and catch up on my journaling for the past three days--and if I write about them here, I won't want to do it when I get back!

(Oh my good grief... the girl who I came with just whispered the most riduculous story to me and I nearly burst out laughing... and this is not the environment for raucous laughter.  The serious academics sitting below would probably have lynched us...)

Where was I?  Oh who am I kidding... I have no idea.  I need to go journal so that the events of the past few days aren't lost in the blur that I'm certain this trip will become.  Our first week is drawing to a close, yet it feels as though we've just arrived.

Photos (and potentially coherent posts) to come soon!  Well, as soon as scheduling allows...

Stay tuned.

Magnetic Poetry Mondays

Blogging via Mobile Phone

No, I'm not dead. Just a bad blogger... But all things considered, I
think I can be forgiven :).

Anyhoo, it is the ass crack of dawn here in the UK, and I am on my way
to Gatwick to catch a flight to Dublin. The London leg of my journey
has been lovely--albeit a bit damp. Violet and Jeff took great care
of me, and on Friday I had lunch with the English Ex, who is sexy as
ever. No, I did not sleep with him.

I'd promise a proper update soon, but there really are no guaruntees.
I will, however, do my best.

I think my stop is coming up soon so I'd best bring this to a close.

Happy Trails!

Part Three

(It's Fiction Friday! Previous installments can be found here.)


“Ouch! Damnit!” Gina hopped gingerly up and down on one foot, casting a scowl at the offending rollerblades that were the cause of her early morning outburst.

“Christ… MARK!!” She shouted, to no avail. The house was empty.

It wasn’t necessarily that she minded her brother staying with her for a few months while pulling himself together after a nasty break-up, but she did mind his uncanny ability to leave sporting equipment lying around in inconvenient locations. In the middle of her poorly-lit, upstairs hallway for example.

She examined the damage. Contrary to the throbbing sensation in her big toe, nothing appeared to be broken. She sighed.

“Well, at least he’s getting out of the house. It’s a significant improvement over last week…” She wasn’t certain that the smell of Chinese take-out would ever be entirely eradicated from her living room, but Mark was family. Her brother’s emotional well-being was worth the lingering scent of Kung Pao lurking around her Crate & Barrel curtains.

“I hate those curtains anyway,” she muttered as she made her way to the kitchen, stopping to grab her cell phone charger which Mark had conveniently left in the middle of the living room floor. Her battery had apparently died at the same time as the power had gone out, which seemed serendipitous in a pain-in-the-ass kind of way. She plugged in the phone as she poured a cup of coffee.

Mark may be a slob, but he always made coffee.

Replacing the milk, however, did not appear to be his forte.

Her cell phone chimed—Three New Messages.

“Oh shit…”

She dialed her voicemail.

“Oh… SHIT!”

She dashed from the kitchen, the still-plugged-in-phone flying from her hand and clattering to the floor, her boss’s last message still droning from the ear piece.

The meeting with Arveson. She had completely forgotten.

As she frantically began searching for her shoes, she stumbled, spilling coffee on her white blouse.

This was simply not shaping up to be a good day.

[to be continued…]

Greetings from London

Well, Twickenham really, but it's all one and the same really.

I would have updated before now, but the past few days have been a whirlwind of jet lag and reunions. In the past few days I have inhaled more (not-just-tobacco) smoke and consumed more tea than I normally do in a month. And this afternoon in the vicinity of Covent Garden I rapidly became wetter than I have been in quite some time.

All in all, however, it's lovely. I'm staying with my dear friend whom I shall call Lady Violet (her friends purchased her a title for her birthday), and her boyfriend/fiance whom I shall call Jeff.

I love this girl to the ends of the earth. I met her less than 2 months before I left England when I was studying here, and after a 13 hour "first date," we were inseparable for the remainder of my stay. It's been nearly 8 years since I saw her last, yet nothing has changed. This afternoon two different people asked if we were sisters, and when we said No they all said "Oh, but you're related, right?"

I never have to pretend with LV, nor she with me. She's straightforward and honest and silly and a bit of a geek and the perkiest goth (or semi-retired goth) you will ever meet.

It's so rare in our lives that we meet people that we connect with so easily and so instantly. It's nice to learn that these connections aren't fleeting.

Pardon the somewhat clunky attempt at sentimentality, but truth be told I'm a bit bombed [See: smoking comment, above. -Ed]. Jeff got my laptop set up for their wireless earlier this evening and I wanted to grab a free moment to simply say "Hello! I made it across the ocean alive and I am, indeed, having a fabulous time!"

In other news, I feel my accent scrambling itself further with each passing day.

I have a tendency to be a bit of an accent chameleon--I inadvertently begin adopting the speech patterns of the people around me. Yesterday I started noticing vowels coming out of my mouth differently than they usually do, and I've started using words like "jumper" and "bloke," and saying "toilet" instead of "bathroom," (as in "Excuse me, where is the Ladies' Toilet?").

I'm sure it doesn't help that LV has a habit of slipping in and out of various dialects of the British Isles, paired with a fairly smashing American accent as well. As a result of her contant shifting, I've been slipping in and out of my own assorted British accents with increasing frequency.

Just do me a favour. If I come back talking like Madonna, smack me.

Hard.

And now I'm off to bed, for LV and I are attempting to haul ourselves out of bed and get an early(ish) on the day, for--here was my surprise when I arrived--she's taken the whole week off work to play out with me! This sort of alters my plan to be Uber Tourist Girl, as LV can't afford to shell out hundreds of pounds for some of the exhorbitant entry fees (nor would even consider asking her to!); but really, London isn't going anywhere, nor will I leave it another 8 years before I come back. Time with my friend is ultimately more valuable than a bunch of photographs.

LV is being a sport, however, about showing me around the areas she knows. She's well up for coming with me to the dozens of free museums all over London--being, like myself, a bit of a geek--and if there's something I'm really dying to get into that costs money--like the Tower of London or Hampton Court Palace--I'll pay for her to get in. After all, she's giving me not only a roof over my head, but my own bloody bedroom! And Jeff has been proving himself to be an excellent cook.

As yet we really haven't managed anything touristy other than shopping at Camden Market and visiting Covent Garden (we were headed to Trafalgar Square afterwards so I could take touristy photos in front of the lions, but it began to piss down rain so heavily that we said "fuck it" and went home).

I will attempt a more coherent update sometime soon, replete with the (fairly minimal) travel woes, my observations on the similarities and differences of New York and London, and other fascinating(?) tidbits.

'Night!*

_________________
*Hey, cut a girl some slack. It's nearly 1am over here!

Magnetic Poetry Mondays!

Welcome to the first in a series of attempts to maintain your interest whilst I gallivant around the world.

Enjoy!

Almost There

Well, I just trudged back from my third and final trip to the laundromat this week. My subletter will have clean sheets, oh yes!

Now all that remains to be done is clean the litterbox, clean out the fridge, take out the trash, take a shower, do some last minute paring-down of the travel wardrobe, squash everything into my bag, call Slater to hear about his big date because I was way too drunk when he called last night to process anything he was saying, drop my last (unwatched) Netflix movie in the mailbox, get cash at the ATM, and call a car to take me to JFK.

All in the next 2 1/2 hours.

I can totally do this.

See you on the flip side!

ENTP

I feel like ass today--a continuation of yesterday's afternoon burnout--and I sound appropriately frog-like having completely lost my voice.

So here, in an effort to remind myself how awesome I am in the throes of feeling wretched 2 days prior to leaving the country and having a million things to do in the meantime, is an explanation of my Myers-Briggs Personality Type, with highlights and commentary to keep it from feeling like a total cop-out...

ENTP - Extrovert Intuitive Thinker Perceiver

ENTPs are nothing if not unique. A rare personality type, they comprise approx. 3-5% of the total (American) population. They have an enthusiastic interest in everything and are always sensitive to possibilities. Known as the "inventor", they are non-conformist and innovative, self-confident and competitive. [Mio? -Ed.]

ENTPs are known to be verbally as well as cerebrally quick, and generally love to argue--both for its own sake, and to show off their often-impressive skills. They tend to have a perverse sense of humor as well, and enjoy playing devil's advocate. They sometimes confuse, even inadvertently hurt, those who don't understand or accept the concept of argument as a sport. [Substitute "often" for "sometimes" and you'll have an accurate summary of 1994-2003. -Ed.] They get pleasure and intellectual stimulation from arguing both sides of a subject, or from doing something unusual or unexpected just to get a reaction.

ENTPs are as innovative and ingenious at problem-solving as they are at verbal gymnastics; on occasion, however, they manage to outsmart themselves. This can take the form of getting found out at "sharp practice"--ENTPs have been known to cut corners without regard to the rules if it's expedient -- or simply in the collapse of an over-ambitious juggling act. Both at work and at home, ENTPs are very fond of "toys"--physical or intellectual, the more sophisticated the better. They tend to tire of these quickly [or immediately, take your pick. -Ed.], however, and move on to new ones.

Like most Extraverted-Perceivers, they are more excited about pursuing a new idea than about following through on an existing one, which can be a cause for frustration and anxiety--both for themselves and those around them. To the ENTP, all the world is a chessboard whose places must be moved in such a way--by the ENTP--that all the players will get the best and most out of life.

ENTPs are basically optimists, but in spite of this (perhaps because of it?), they tend to become extremely petulant about small setbacks and inconveniences. [See Monday's post. -Ed.] (Major setbacks they tend to regard as challenges, and tackle with determin- ation.) ENTPs have little patience with those they consider wrongheaded or unintelligent [See Also, I hate stupid people. -Ed.], and show little restraint in demonstrating this. However, they do tend to be extremely genial, if not charming, when not being harassed by life in general. [Wish I'd come up with that phrase. -Ed.]

In terms of their relationships with others, ENTPs are capable of bonding very closely and, initially, suddenly, with their loved ones. Some appear to be deceptively offhand with their nearest and dearest ["Wow, really? I had no idea you cared so much!" Direct quote from The English Ex when I explained that he had trampled my heart. -Ed.]; others are so demonstrative that they succeed in shocking co-workers who've only seen their professional side. ENTPs are also good at acquiring friends who are as clever and entertaining as they are. Aside from those two areas, ENTPs tend to be oblivious of the rest of humanity [Guilty. -Ed.], except as an audience -- good, bad, or potential.

Even though they are extroverts, ENTPs may demonstrate a subtle tendency towards reservation. Those who have had problems establishing friendships may manifest a quiet nature and a lack of general outgoingness, one day appearing social and friendly only to be indifferent or avoidant the next. Over a period of time specific social patterns may develop, appearing unfriendly and reserved to some and friendly and open to others. With their sporadic nature, they may unwittingly convince others of a general dislike and social discontentment, even though it is not their intention.

ENTPs do not readily follow social norms. They do not like to have their independence threatened by unnecessary rules, and they can appear expedient and out-of-place in a society that values any various forms of unnecessary subjugation. While ENTPs may have a healthy respect for rules when they are necessary as a guideline or are necessary and good for the well being of people, they do not readily tolerate intentional subjugation to any type of rule or method that they consider to be out-dated or harmful to the well-being of individuals. ENTPs tend to look down on people who do so, considering them to be childish and lacking of confidence.

The main peculiarity of ENTps behaviour is an incredible absent-mindedness [I'm sorry, what were we talking about? -Ed.]. They usually leave items where they used them and have a tendency to constantly lose smaller objects. [This was the cause of many wars between myself and Evil Ex Roommate. -Ed.] ENTps work place and personal belongings are often kept in disarray. [That's putting it mildly. -Ed.] They invariably forget what they have already done and what they need to do. However, they are quick and shrewd in day to day matters, taking advantage of every opportunity that arises. Because of this others may consider them to be crafty or shifty.

ENTPs are actually pretty positive people, who enjoy life greatly. Unless circumstances prove it necessary, they rarely find reason to think negatively about people. [Possibly the truest of everything said so far, which totally pisses people off sometimes. -Ed.] They seek to accept and to understand people for who they are inside. They do not like to condemn people for their personhood, and they can often be sought out by others for matter of practical solutions to common every day problems. People typically have respect for the intuitive understanding of ENTps towards them and appreciate their loyalty in personal matters. [Until "circumstances prove it necessary" to boot your ass to the curb, of course. See also, Evil Ex Roommate. -Ed.] It is not like an ENTp to betray a friend in need.

Old F***ing C**ts, and Other Dangers of Driving in New Jersey

We sat outside a Starbucks in Secaucus, sipping our green tea Frappuccinos and talking about nothing in particular.

During a lull in conversation, he looks across the table and says, very simply, "I love you."

I smile.

"I love you too."

Too bad he's fucking gay.

Today was my Great Zipcar Adventure, and Slater--with whom, after yesterday morning's bout of pissiness, I am no longer annoyed--and I made the trek to Secaucus in search of a PetSmart that would allow me to place a 40lb tub of cat litter into a cart and roll it right out to my car.

First of all, I would just like to say that Google Maps? Has NO idea how to estimate driving time. 36 minutes, up to 46 in traffic? Puh-lease! Traffic in New York City takes on a dimension far beyond that of, say, Bumblefuck, Wisconsin. NYC Traffic simultaneously adds hours to your journey while it removes years from your life. NYC traffic is, essentially, the work of Satan.

Or maybe George Bush. But I digress.

It should be noted that, when behind the wheel of a moving vehicle, the foulness of my language obtains epic proportions previously unknown to the universe. The title of this post was Slater's favourite epithet of the day, which I spat at an old man driving a Saab who cut me off somewhere in New Jersey, at which time I had fucking had it with people. Specifically people behind the wheels of all motor vehicles in the tristate area.

I'm not entirely sure what portion of NJ saw the birth of this particular gem because, again, Google Maps? Like the majority of the population, has NO idea how to drive in Jersey. (Apologies to DS, I'm sure you're just a super driver... but the rest of your state? Well, there's a special circle of hell reserved just for them).

At any rate, we drove around in circles for a good 20 minutes before actually finding the shopping center--in the exact opposite direction from the one in which GM told us to drive--and another 20 driving around a megalithic complex of shopping malls and cheap, chain hotels, looking for the shopping center that housed the PetSmart.

All was not in vain however, and between cooing over kitties and bemoaning a depressed chinchilla, I managed to purchase 2 months worth of cat litter and cat food for the nominal fee of $40.

We drove back via Manhattan--where traffic was once again atrocious anywhere south of 14th Street--and into Williamsburg so I could sell some old clothes at a hipster-infested consignment shop there. Ever since PetSmart I had been feeling kinda shitty, but by this point I felt like death and was starting to lose my voice. Slater rode back with me to my apartment--and lugged the 40lb tub of cat litter up the stairs for me, bless him--and then took off so I could take a much needed nap.

I didn't nap, so much as rolled around and sweated profusely with my eyes closed for 2 hours, but am feeling somewhat better. After I drive back up to Williamsburg to pick up the 43lbs of laundry I dropped off this afternoon (because same-day service apparently doesn't exist in my neighborhood), I plan on going straight back to bed.

Only 2 more full days in New York before I leave!! Yikes!!

Hope your Monday was equally eventful... and free of Fucking Old Cunts.

Pet Peeve

More than anything else I can possibly think of, I absolutely fucking hate being canceled on.

Slater and I were supposed to go to the Pride march today. It's been planned for nearly a month. I scheduled my entire last week in New York--in the freaking USA--around this day being dedicated to Slater and his friends.

He was supposed to call me last night to let me know where/when we were meeting. Or early this morning, at the latest.

By 11:00am I had heard nothing, but was completely ready to go--showered, make-up applied, bag packed. The march started at noon so I knew that I would have to fly out of the house as soon as he finally called.

At 11:11am, after two texts and a voicemail, I receive the following: "in bed. sick."

Now, on one hand, I know I should feel bad that my friend is not feeling well. On the other... WTF? How did this just suddenly come on when yesterday he was totally fine? Is he actually sick or is it just some lame excuse? Why did it take until after 11:00 for him to finally let me know? I could have been sleeping! Instead I got up at 9:00am so that I'd be ready to go whenever he finally called with details.

And now I have absolutely no fucking idea what to do with myself.

In case you hadn't figured it out by now, I can be a little bit of a control freak. And when I've already planned to dedicate an entire freaking day to something, and that something is then yanked out from under me, I find it difficult to recover. I was so focused on what was supposed to happen, that now I cannot comprehend a change in plans.

To be honest, I had a bad feeling when I hadn't heard from Slater by the time I went to bed at 1:00am. I think it all hearkens back to a particular ex, whom I shall call The Flake, because he was infamous for making plans and then just never showing up. Supposed to come visit me in Maryland for the weekend? Oh, sorry, I won't bother showing up or calling, but I'll text you sometime on Wednesday of the following week to say that something better came along, and attempt to casually name-drop the semi-famous people that I chose to hang around and do coke with instead of visit you, in hopes that you'll probe further and I can brag. Meanwhile guess who sat around her apartment all weekend wondering where the hell you were?

I know that Slater is not my ex. But whenever something like this happens, all the old frustration comes boiling back to the surface and I'm not sure how to cope.

I fucking hate being canceled on.

Now me and my newly purple hair need to find something to do for the next 12 hours.

Any suggestions?

5 Days and Counting

I am afraid to open my Google Reader. Mainly because I haven't done so in about a week and I fear the number at the top of the page will give me a heart attack. Please don't think that I've stopped loving you all, but as the title of this post would suggest, I've got quite a bit going on these days!

For the moment, however, I am not feeling particularly stressed. Perhaps that's just the numbing effect of the obscene amount of alcohol I consumed last night with school folks, but I'll take what I can get.

I'm trying to figure out how much it would cost to ship my laptop back to the States if I were to take it to Ireland. I was going over the syllabus the other day and there's quite a bit of written work required for this course, plus a journal which our tutors can ask to see (which means that I actually have to DO one, damnit!), and since my handwriting is particularly wretched, having a computer would be a plus.

However, I do NOT want to take it to Brazil or lug it around Peru, so it would have to make its way back to the States... which means either EXPENSIVE shipping costs (so far the cheapest I've found is around $80 through the Irish postal service), or finding someone who is not traveling afterwards to take it back to New York and hang onto it for me. Either way it's a pain in the arse. But I'll figure it out.

I have a feeling the next few days are going to pass in a blur. I've got some more school work to deal with--particularly a writing assignment for the Ireland course--and plenty of small details to take care of around the city. Sunday is New York's PRIDE parade, which I will be attending with Slater and Ophelia (his uber-hot lesbian best friend) and a slew of other folks that I've never met. Should make for an interesting day! And Monday is Froggy's Rental Car Adventure, though I'm not quite sure yet what the fun part of the adventure is going to be. Perhaps the beach, or a cute little town in PA that's only about 90 minutes away. We'll see.

I'm babbling, I realize, and I do hope I'm not boring y'all to tears.

Bear with me, I'll have plenty of interesting things to talk about soon enough :)

Phew - Part 2

It's official... as of 11:00pm this evening, the short film is WRAPPED!! Done! Finito!

Well, the shooting part anyway. I need to drop by my director's office and do a quick voice record of my lines to aid in sound design, and pick up the check reimbursing me for the money I've spent on the process. But still. No more filming!! That's a big ole' check-mark on my "To Do" list!

And it also means I can get a manicure!! And a haircut!! Some extreme haircolouring is planned in celebration--stay tuned.

In other news, I can't believe I forgot to mention... I finally heard from The Russian. It was a mass text-blast for some party he was promoting.

So, yes. Completely written off. Granted, I generally don't expect much from guys I sleep with on the first "date," but it's still somewhat irksome.

My brain is completely fried from lack of sleep--we had shoots at 6:00am and 8:00pm today, and I only got a 2 hour nap in between. Thus I shall abandon all further efforts at coherence and bid you all a fond adieu for the evening.

Sweet dreams!

Phew

Irreverent Internal Dialogue Moment of the Day
"Jesus... I'm sweating more than a pedophile in a day care center..."

That more or less sums up the majority of my day. It hasn't actually been exceptionally hot in NYC, but the humidity has been brutal. For me, at least. I'm sure that wearing my polyester grunge-goddess sweater for 5 hours for a film shoot didn't help either.

However, the short film is now one shoot closer to completion, the staged reading was a ton of fun and went very well, and... I FOUND A SUBLETTER!! PRAISE JEEBUZ!!

She's a bit of a spazz, but a very nice spazz. And The Princess (aka, my cat) loved her... and anyone who's ever met my cat can attest that this is a rare occurrence indeed.

Actually, I've got to give the furball credit, she really worked this girl over. Rolling around on her back and acting all cute. Clearly, she understood that mommy's sanity was at stake and it was best to behave. Smart kitty.

So that's one ginormous weight lifted from my already-slumping shoulders. Don't get me wrong, there's still plenty to do--errands to run, cat supplies to buy, hair to cut, nether-regions to wax, contact lenses to order... but things are coming together nicely (knock wood).

My mom is coming up from PA tomorrow, ostensibly to have lunch and go shopping, but really to smother me with affection before I leave on my adventures. I'm sure I will be hard-pressed to keep her from crying when I leave her at Penn Station, but it should still be a pleasant afternoon. We're going to hit up Century 21, and I may introduce her to the mecca that is Sephora (*insert heavenly choir here*).

That's about all I've got at the moment. I'm trying not to be an absentee blogger, but really it's been tough. However, two of my pre-scheduled absentee-posts are already written and waiting on my Blogger Dashboard... try not to die of suspense. I know it's tempting.

Right, this little froggy needs some sleep. Between an afternoon of motherly affection--and shopping--and another evening film shoot, methinks I'll be needing my strength.

Goodnight my lovelies!

Today...

...wasn't any better than yesterday. I am still a walking time bomb of stress, so much so that I totally snapped at my mom on the phone earlier when she was just trying to be nice and find time to come up for an afternoon to see me before I leave.

I just wrote her an apologetic email, so hopefully all is well in that department.

The short film project is reaching a point where it has ceased to be fun and just. needs. to. be. OVER. Had another pre-dawn shoot this morning, threw my first ever diva-fit with the director about scheduling of another shoot, and am on the verge of throwing another one about a certain scene that we apparently have different visions for... his involves graphic vomiting on my part. Mine does, er, not.

But enough about that. I'll spare you the epic details of my crabbiness.

On a good note, tomorrow is the first performance day for the staged reading I've been working on all week, and I'm really excited. The process has been a lot of fun, and I've learned quite a lot about developing a script. I think we're going to have a great time tomorrow. So that will be good.

And I may go buy shoes on the way there. I was going to go this afternoon, but I got sidetracked by bitching at my mom.

Shoes definitely would have been better for the psyche.

Also, I am rambling.

And so, the experiment of the evening: I know Ambien helps me fall asleep... but does it also prevent crazy stress-induced nightmares? I haven't passed a night without them all week, so we'll see how it goes.

Wish me luck!

And while you're at it: tell me something happy. I need to climb the hell out of this funk before it eats me alive.

Moderate Panic

It dawned on me today, as I sat on the phone with a nice lady from AT&T trying to figure out how to avoid paying my cell phone bill while I am out of the country, that I am leaving in exactly TWO WEEKS! HOLY SHIT!!

The sense of panic that had been lurking in the shadows the evening prior, preventing my exhausted body from falling asleep, chose that moment to pounce, claws extended, and sink its teeth into my jugular.

TWO FREAKING WEEKS!

And I still have so much to do.

The subletter-search is becoming an increasing pain in the ass. Some girl who has been giving me the run-around for the past few days and had FINALLY settled on a day/time to come see the place just emailed me this morning saying she and her boyfriend didn't get the jobs they wanted so aren't moving to NYC after all. FABULOUS! I still have someone coming Sunday evening, so hopefully she isn't a complete freakshow and I can just sign her up and be done with it.

Oh, and before she comes I need to find time to clean this place. I did a precursory straightening the other day, so I could get away with a quick dust-and-vacuum in the major rooms, but the kitchen and bathroom are a disgrace.

Not to mention the MASSIVE cleaning that needs to happen before I leave--gotta hide the irreplaceable booze (Absinthe and Ugandan Gin) and figure out how to give the subletter a few drawers in my dresser and maybe an inch or two in the closet.

I realized that I have done NOTHING about the red-tape surrounding my Fall project, and I really need to get on that--Pronto.

I also need renter's insurance. And travel insurance.

I joined ZipCar so that I could go out and pick up 2 months worth of cat-care supplies (kitty litter is HEAVY), but that won't happen until, oh, a week and a half from now. And I think my $50 of free driving time expires while I'm away, so in addition to running errands I need to make use of that. How does one go about scheduling mandated fun-time, anyway?

Shit. I still need to get another memory card for my camera. I've decided that 3 gigs of photos simply won't be enough.

Yet this looming cloud of doom has a silver lining of sorts. You know, aside from the obvious which is that hi! I'm traveling for two months!

The rehearsals for the staged reading are going really well. It's been a great experience--definitely useful for my project next Fall--and the cast is a lot of fun to work with. Also, working with a Newberry-Award-Winning author and a giant in the field of Ed. Theatre is also pretty awesome.

Short film is--universe willing--coming up the home stretch. Which means I can get a haircut! And a manicure! Hoorah!

I booked my hostel for my first day/night in London--yay! Now I just need to find one for the first night in Lima. I should get on that.

I ordered the awesomest pair of shoes from Zappos.com yesterday, and they upgraded me to overnight shipping for nothing extra! Unfortunately, that's where the good news ends. When the shoes got here they were a.) a little too big, and b.) had a really tight elastic strap that dug into my high instep, which I know would be killing my foot after a long day of walking. So they are gong back. But the shoe itself, aside from the evil strap, was insanely comfortable and I'm planning to buy another pair from the company sometime after I get back from traveling. (All the others that I like are suede, and I can't see wearing suede shoes in rainy countries.)

*sigh*

I am trying to escape this overwhelming sense of, well, ACK!!! that is hanging over my head... but I'm not sure how.

What do you do when you're so stressed you feel like your head is going to explode?

Love(?) Letters to New York

Dear Guy Who Muttered "Fuck You" Under His Breath As I Passed This Morning,

Seriously, what gives? You wanted the veritable foot of sidewalk space I was occupying? Didn't like that I was laden down with bags to help me survive errands, the gym, and a rehearsal? Perhaps you somehow sensed that I was on my way to the post office to pick up the insured package containing my new Marc Jacobs bauble watch, and couldn't help seething with jealousy?

Do us both a favor next time: man-up and say it out loud. Then I won't be the only one to know what an ass you are.

Love,
The Frog Princess

--------------------

Dear Guys Walking Behind Me On Atlantic Ave,

Although I couldn't help but find your conversation riveting, might I suggest that alternating between comments on the fineness of a woman's body and the story of a girl who was murdered and apparently disemboweled might be considered more than a little bit creepy by the girl whose ass you've been ogling.

Just a heads-up.

Yours In Christ,
F-to-the-P

--------------------

Dear M14 Bus,

You may save me the trouble of walking 5 avenue-blocks, but you will never, ever be faster.

Let's work on that, m'kay?

All the Best,
FP

--------------------

Dear Every Consumer in the HM on 5th and 42nd,

Oh my god would you fucking MOVE YOUR ASS ALREADY!?!? Christ! I have seen tortoises move faster than you people! You've already paid for your damned purchases, now get the fuck out of the store! Or at least get out of my way so I can escape the recycled air and cheesy pop music.

Cheers,
Froggy

--------------------

Dear Clearly-Non-New-York Teenagers in Line in Front of Me,

Your shorts are too short.

Also they are white.

This should not be legal.

-F-

--------------------

Dear Woman on The G Train,

Fuschia eye shadow = hot

Fuschia hair = edgy, but questionable in anyone over the age of 30 which you so very clearly are.

Both of the above paired with matching lipstick and nail polish? I'm pretty sure that was outlawed in 1984.

Hugs,
FP

--------------------

Dear Guy On The Bus Who Said "Bless You" When I Sneezed,

Thank you.

No, really. Thank you.

<3,
Froggy

--------------------

Dear Trader Joes,

Holy Crap your frozen nuggets actually taste like chicken. I think I have died and gone to Okay Sue Me But I've Barely Eaten All Day And At Least The Ketchup Was Homemade Late Night Snack HEAVEN!

Thanks!
FP

(Okay, so that's not really a New York thing, but cut a girl some slack..)

--------------------

Dear Guy On The A Train Planning to "Drink From the Carton" and "Not Do Dishes,"

I hope you like roaches.

And backwash.

Ick.

-FP-

--------------------

Dear G Train,

Thank you for arriving promptly the last two evenings on my journey home. If you could kindly continue this trend tomorrow at 4:00am when I'm en route to my pre-dawn film shoot, I would be exceptionally grateful.

Many Thanks,
Froggerino

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Dear Readers With Readers (Ha! I Made a Funny!) Who Received A Blank Post,

My sincerest apologies. I, your humble author, take full responsibility for shifting the blame elsewhere.

Blogger had a spazz. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Love and Hugs,
Froggy

An Apology, and Other Random Nonsense

I was just looking over my posts from the past few weeks, and really? Kids, I am sorry.

Other than the diatribe on my all-consuming-fear of love, I have written nothing of substance in quite some time, and I genuinely do apologize.

I want to. Indeed, I have had several ideas stewing in the back of my brain for the past several weeks--yet when I land in front of my computer all I can think to do is gripe about weight gain and the weather.

So I apologize. I do hope you forgive me and we can ride out this dry spell together... I'll get my mojo back one of these days!

In other news, if I make it through this week alive, it will be a damned miracle. Aside from being in rehearsal every night from 6pm-10pm for a staged reading, I also have three early morning shoots for the short film--4am on Wed and Thurs, and 5am on Fri. I do get to come home and sleep between shooting and rehearsal, but really... we NEVER finish shooting on time, so those imagined 3 hour naps will probably turn out to be more like 45 minutes. Add in finding time to show my apartment to potential subletters, and trying to get to the gym so as not to undo all the good work of the past few weeks, and I am going to be one frazzled frog come next Monday!

It will be worth it though. This staged reading looks to be a fun and worthwhile experience, and I really do think the short film is going to be great when it's done--and I never say that about myself on film, because I think I look kinda like a heroin addict on camera. Or, in this case, a frumpy heroin addict.

But I digress.

I still need to find suitable pants for traveling (i.e., versatile, lightweight, dry quickly, and don't make me look like a golf-playing soccer mom from the mid-west). The ones I ordered from Old Navy arrived today and... well... didn't look so good. Damnit. Any suggestions as to where I should look next?

Still no word from the Russian, making it officially a week. Yes, I am perfectly aware that I could call him, but a.) I've been so busy that I wouldn't actually be able to make plans anyway, and b.) honestly? I want a man who fucking calls. If I am not worth the effort of picking up the phone and shooting off a text message? I don't need to go chasing that down with a tranquilizer gun. There are other fish in the sea. Fish who call.

If you figure out where they've been hiding, let me know, 'kay?

I positively abused my body with alcohol this past weekend. Yes, I may be insanely busy, but I still find time to drink. The few braincells that survived the massacre are struggling to pick up the slack. Wish them luck.

Big, internet hugs to DS and Ashley. I promise I will stick around for more than an hour next time. And I am totally not kidding about going Speed Dating when I get back!!

POSTCARDS PEOPLE!! I don't think y'all realize how serious I am here! I actually want to send y'all postcards from my travels, so drop me a line with your address at das-frog @ optonline.net if you want to get in on the action!

Trying to figure out if I have time for the gym today. I walked almost 2 miles to get coffee creamer this afternoon... I think that qualifies as exercise. My potential subletters canceled our appointment tomorrow, so I'll go then. Yes, that works. Aren't you glad I let you in on that little bit of self-persuasion?

What can I say? I'm easy.

Just ask The Russian.

Miscellaneous

Today while at the gym I saw the words "Unenthusiastic Penis" splayed across CNN. Somewhere, Edward R. Murrow is rolling over in his grave.

Why would a cleaning lady give me a weird look when I threw a paper towel... in a trashcan? And not even the trash can she had just emptied... the big rolly bin she emptied in into? I don't get it.

Yesterday I had a minor heart attack when I stepped on the scale at the gym. My mother and I are now officially on a mission to lose 10 lbs by the end of the month. Deutlich is also in. Any other takers?

Old gay men get cranky when they are around other old gay men. I told Slater that if he ever starts behaving like that, I'll have to stop hanging out with him.

Speaking of Slater... we bought our train tickets for Macchu Pichu! It's official! On August 23, 2008, I will be 8,000 feet above sea level, standing amongst Inca Ruins. There are no words...

But there will be pictures.

The retail therapy has got. to. STOP. Yesterday I had a stress fit that resulted in a Marc Jacobs watch. I've got a bit of buyer's remorse today, but I'm sure I will change my mind when it gets here.

The short film is stressing me out. If we are wrapped by the date named, it will be a god damned miracle.

Cranberry & Goat Cheese Crusted Chicken = Divinity on a Plate. Also, raspberry vinaigrette made from ACTUAL RASPBERRIES?? I totally heart The City Grill.

It is so wrong that I want The Russian to be the one to call me? I'll be honest, I'm not going to have a meltdown if he doesn't--I'm so busy right now that I can't even imagine when I would find time to see him. But that doesn't mean that I don't want him to want to see me. Gah, I am such a girl.

OMG MACCHU PICHU. Sorry, just had to say that again.

DS's birthday tomorrow!! And another friend's birthday as well! Party-hopping makes me feel totally popular, in a 90210 kinda way.

I have to keep reminding myself that calories are not the enemy. Over-processed, empty calories are the enemy. So technically a smoothie made with organic fresh and frozen fruit, organic no-sugar-added peanut butter, and organic yogurt should be okay... right? Just maybe not at 11:00 at night.

I cannot wait for that plane to leave the ground on July 3. Once the adventure starts, I can batten down the hatches and full steam ahead. Until then? Basket case, party of one, your table is ready.

Love and Consequences

The fabulous DS wrote a lovely post yesterday about, well, love. Bone-jarring, soul-encompassing, all-electrifying (really, just go read her post, she says it much better than I do) love. The kind of love she desires, the kind she won't settle for less than...

The kind that absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, scares me to death.

Bone-jarring, soul-crushing, cowering-under-the-bed-in-abject-terror FEAR.

I don't want to care for someone that deeply, because then he could hurt me doubly so. I have never had love without suffering.

I'm afraid to be the first thing a man thinks of in the morning, and the last thing he thinks of at night... because the last (and truthfully only) man who ever loved me like that later ended up showing up under my porch at 2:00 in the morning and scaring me shitless. I do not know love without suffocation.

In my injured psyche, the two are inseparable--love and obsession, want and need. I'm terrified of being the object of someone else's insurmountable desire.

Me? I'm in search of a Sunday kind of love. A comfortable love. A love that means quiet evenings on the couch and bottles of wine. Long, lazy drives and naps in the sun. But can I have one without the other? Can I have that love without the all-consuming passion?

I worry that I can't. That one grows from the other.

That I must pass Go before I can collect my $200.

So here I sit, lounging in Jail, waiting to roll doubles instead of simply paying the jailer and going on my way.

As my last, admittedly-enigmatic post suggested, I have met a man. He's a friend of a friend and we quickly hit it off. Live music and mojitos followed their natural course to the Horizontal Mambo and a slightly hungover breakfast. He's nice. He appears to like me. If he calls within the week--and doesn't give me some schtick about "not being able to do this," whatever this is--I would consider it a home run.

And for once, I'm not running scared.

No, not because I think he's "The One" or any poetic nonsense like that--you should know me well enough by now to understand that, closet romantic though I might be, I think the concept of love at first sight is bullshit, and phrases like "The One" make me cringe.

No, I'm actually okay with this for one very simple reason: In less than a month I leave the country for 8 weeks, and I have absolutely NO plans to jump into anything serious before my departure.

No hassle. No expectations. No fear of impending emotional annihilation.

True, love is not exactly around the corner, but perhaps I've found a way to dip my toes back in those waters... check out the temperature and see if maybe I feel like going for a swim... you know, sometime after lunch, after I've had reasonable time to digest.

Perhaps. (See: "If He Calls" clause, above.)

Who knows? Maybe my Get Out of Jail Free card has finally arrived.

And it's Russian.

...

Ugh, we are having a heat wave and it is too hot to think.

However, I didn't sleep at home last night, so the news isn't all bad :)

Happy Monday!

Tidbits

• The call for Postcards has only garnered three responses! Come on... humor my ego and act like you'll miss me! Email me at das-frog at optonline.net if you would like to receive a postcard from my travels!


• I am an idiot. When I was published on IB a few days ago, I submitted the wrong email/web address (used an underscore instead of a dash), so even if somebody liked my post... they would be unable to tell me. D'oh! I'd like to say comments don't matter, but really... sometimes... they do. Yeah.


• Test-drove the Ambien last night. It seemed like it did, in fact, help me fall asleep, and I stayed asleep (unlike things like NyQuil where I wake up exactly every 2 hours) until a very noisy garbage truck woke me up at 4:30am. However, when my alarm went off at 9:30 I really didn't want to get out of bed. Whether that was the result of the Ambien or the 4:30am interruption, I'm not sure.


• Starting to stress a little less about travel. I went over to Slater's the other night and we talked about Peru. We are basically going to take it one day at a time and aside from booking the hostel for our first night in Lima (since we land at 10pm), we're just going to figure it out when we get there. I've been doing some more research and I'm starting to think we should book our Machu Picchu train NOW, because they fill up quickly, which would mean committing to arrive in Cusco by a certain date. But other than that, we'll play it by ear.


• So You Think You Can Dance is back! HOORAH!


• My refrigerator is going through some sort of identity crisis--it thinks it is a freezer. A few weeks ago I noticed that it didn't seem cold enough, things were going bad too quickly, so I bumped up the temperature a notch... with the result that it FROZE EVERYTHING! Now I've moved the temperature setting back to where it was, but everything is still frozen solid.
  
  Exhibit A:
  
  
  
  Exhibit B:
  
  
  
  It's ruined lots of vegetables and an overpriced (but so tasty!) bag of pre-cut apple slices from Trader Joe's. Really... can't we find a happy medium?



• Despite the refrigerator difficulties, dinner was still fabulous. Yes, I plate my food nicely even when I dine alone.
  
  Pressed wrap with blackened chicken, sriracha sauce, onion, red pepper, black olives, and some unnamed French cheese; chopped salad with most of the above, plus green olives, and homemade smoky tomato vinniagrette.



• And let's not forget dessert! Even though I'm years from procreating, I'll take my Best Mom Ever trophy now, thank you...
  
  Giant Cookie recipe courtesy of Definitely RA, with a giant THANK YOU to whomever linked that recipe last week, I forget who! Ice cream = organic french vanilla from Whole Foods.



• I've already been to the gym TWICE this week! 45 minutes on the elliptical each time, and I'm jumping in right at my usual 10-minute-mile pace. I feel kinda awesome--though my knees most definitely did not after the second day. Took yesterday off and I'm jumping back in today, hopefully with time to add in some weight training as well.



• I need to lose 7 lbs. The giant cookies are SO not helping.



• Will be shooting for short film project alllll weeked. I really hope we wrap this puppy soon because I am desperate for a hair cut! This mop is turning into the Carol Brady Shag... and that didn't even look good on Carol Brady.



• I am hungry. Time to dig up lunch and sort out the rest of my day--like exactly how much stuff I need to lug to the gym into order to frumpify myself for this evening's film shoot without having to make a trek back to Brooklyn... wish me luck!

Etc.

Good Morning Campers!

I may have been sucking at life on my own blog lately, but today I'm published over at Indie Bloggers so at least I'm not a total waste of space...

I am starting to get stressed about my upcoming travels. I mean, come on... this is me we're talking about. A stress-fit is pretty much inevitable.

There's still just so much to do... I went to the travel doc yesterday and got my malaria pills and travel diarrhea meds (fun!), and I was amazed that she agreed to my request to give me Ambien to help with the jet lag! OTC sleep-aids actually keep me awake, and the melatonin I used in Africa may or may not have been useful, so I thought I'd try the prescription route and see if it was any more effective.

She gave me a full prescription too, so that Ambien may also be helping with the pre-travel stress that's keeping me up at night... we shall see.

Also I haven't found a subletter yet. I've been trying to find one through friends, rather than go the Craigslist route, because it feels safer, but it does not appear to be panning out. Also I have yet to a.) tell my landlords that I am leaving for 2 months, or b.) talk about re-signing my lease before I go. Not that I think they'll pose a fuss, I just... I don't know. I have absolutely NO idea why I keep putting it off.

I'll do it tomorrow.

(How's that for not procrastinating?)

I also still have a LOT of reading to do, and I haven't finished my review board application to cut through the 8billion miles of red tape surrounding my research project next semester.

I am extensively glad that I am unemployed. If I had to deal with a job on top of all of this, I think my head might explode.

In the mean time I need to just calm down and remind myself that everything is going to work out just fine.

This is me. It always does.

Knock Wood.

Pass the Kleenex

As my Facebook status will attest, I just burst into tears at the end of 27 Dresses.

Turns out I'm a girl after all. Who knew?

Despite the fact that I have a hard time accepting little sis's complete 180 from self-centered and shallow to self-aware and wise, it was better than I expected. Hence, you know, the tear-fest.

And while I am not generally a James Marsden fan, JM + scruffy + cynical = tasty.

Oh, and the "favourite part of the wedding" so oft discussed? Is absolutely my favourite part of a wedding as well. I may not have been to 27, but I've been to my fair share, and I have a feeling that the chick who wrote this (because who are we kidding? it was definitely a chick) is a kindred spirit of a sort.

I also have a feeling that further ranting on the subject would cause some retroactive embarrassment tomorrow, so me and my tissues and my red wine are gonna go see if Deadliest Catch is on Discovery and try to regain some level of cynicism composure.

Right.

Escaping the Past

I'm not sure where to begin this one.

I've mentioned the Evil Ex Roommate on here in the past, but I've never gone so far as to air our dirty laundry to the blog world. The drama was so immense and so long-lived that I've done enough bitching about it to last two lifetimes, and I don't want to do any more. I have taken the high road, so to speak.

You know, aside from dubbing her The Evil Ex Roommate on my blog.

But lately, you see, she is trying.

We see each other from time to time at social events--we were friends for years and have a fairly large number of mutual friends. When I see her, she is generally nice to me... at times going so far as to actually instigate conversation.

She recently Facebook-friended me, and is now sending me cute little applications on a fairly regular basis. So I send them back... that's what 'book etiquette demands, right?

She's trying, so I'm trying.

I don't think we will ever regain the level of closeness we once had. When the final nail was hammered into the coffin of our friendship, it was like a bad break-up. One of those ugly, nasty, whole body starts shaking just thinking about it break-ups. One of those break-ups from which you never quite manage to recover.

But she's trying. And part of me... the part of me that gave her more second chances than Sami on Days of Our Lives... wants to let her. Wants to think that perhaps she's coming around and realized just how horribly she treated me.

But the other part of me knows... knows... that this is not the case.

First of all, she has not apologized. EVER. Oh sure, the words "I'm sorry" have crossed her lips or issued from her keyboard, but they are always immediately followed by three little letters...

B. U. T.

"I'm sorry, but you should have..."

"I'm sorry, but you said..."

"I'm sorry, but I was having a really bad day and even though there's no way in hell you could have known that, you still shouldn't have said that innocuous thing you said that set me off into a homicidal rage..."

She is and always has been incapable of understanding the impact her actions can have on other people, or that my reactions to her behavior were, in fact, perfectly reasonable. Therefore, when I simply cut off contact because I couldn't handle it anymore, I'm sure she felt unjustly slighted.

When I stopped speaking to her for several months while we still lived together, that was certainly the case. Mutual friends make excellent informants.

So on one hand I suppose I should be flattered that she is seeking to reconnect even though she believes herself to be the only injured party in this train wreck that was our friendship.

But a few minutes ago she popped up on my Google Chat and my immediate reaction was, "Oh god, I haven't seen her since _______, what could she possibly have to be angry about!??!"

It turns out she just wanted to let me know that I got a random piece of mail at our old apartment and wanted to know if she could open it to see if it was junk, yet this encounter illustrates that I am literally afraid to talk to her. Afraid to open up that gate and let her back into my life because as things stand right now, that could only lead to a repetition of the past.

Unless she actually manages to genuinely apologize; to admit that she was, at times, in the wrong; to recognize that her behavior was hurtful and that, as such, I had a right to be hurt; there is no way for this friendship to be resurrected.

Hell, to simply admit that I have a right to my emotions, justified or otherwise, would be a start.

And I know this will never happen.

So part of me wishes she would just go away, stop rubbing salt in this long-suffering wound and let me be. She cannot give me what I need, and offering less is like a taunt (god, the break-up imagery here is simply staggering).

But I can't help wondering if trying is the first step.

Putting effort into someone other than herself is a fairly recent development. Perhaps there is hope for her yet...