tourniquitfit

it just took me roughly 10 minutes to figure out how to update this. for someone who has spent way too much time on the internet, that is just sad.

i need a nap.

i woke up at 7:30 AM in the west village, ny.

my friend haley is 21, a monmouth university dropout, and recently got fired from starbucks for dating a customer her boss liked. she then got a d.w.i, making life in the suburbs even more insufferable. so, her sister, the president of an advertising company and the epitome of yuppie lifestyle (i saw more self-improvement books in her tiny apartment, than i have in the self-help section of B&N), offered haley a change of scenery by moving in.

the sister is going through a sticky divorce, which involves joint custody of their pug (booda... i think, from the prevalence of oriental thought books in the house that they were aiming for "buddha", but the dog's bed was embroidered with "booda.")

so the sister is having haley as company in the mean time. her sister though, was in london for the weekend with her new boy toy/client.

so haley invited me over.

we were supposed to see todd barry. i got free tickets for a comedy central presents... thing he was doing. but i drove in, figuring i would probably leave at a crazy late hour of the night, far past the hour nj transit is willing to run, and was subsequently punished for ever so selfishly using up scarce/expensive gas, by not being able to find a spot for 45 minutes.

it's hard for me to describle haley adequately.

haley is going to end up one of those thin, old women, with shimmery tops, smeared lipstick, a bad back, a scantily clad outfit and sagging skin. her personality is like that now kind of. she gets confused so easily. "haley, can i pour myself a glass of soda?" will be responded to with "what? i don't get it. what's going on?"

ok....

i like her though. she's calming to hang out with. i can't get all deep into thought with her. but when i do make observations that come out organically, she appreciates them. she's someone who's perfectly fine with being boring. it takes a lot of pressure off, allowing for a natural sort of rapport to develop. i like it.

anyway, with her taking forever, and me being late, we decided we couldn't make the show, which we could have if we hustled, but we didn't.

instead, we went to joe's end of the semester, graduate school party @ cuny. he's getting his phd in poli sci.

poli sci theorists have weird ass ways of hitting on women. "do you think theorists have better or worse sex?", this disheveled looking kid asked me. i said worse, because they're disconnected.

chiraag and undead were there. it was pretty fun. free beer and vodka. can't go wrong with that.

we ate, drank, talked and bullshat.

i hit on men, in that boisterous manner i have, that acts to ward them off more than intice. it's more entertaining for me though, and i'm impatient. i've waited my whole life to be approached, and i'm sick of it. i feel like i have to make stuff happen if anything is going to happen. but then i get too obnoxious for my own good and nothing happens.

anyway, we ended up going to some bar, after going back to haley's apartment to walk booda for all of 5 minutes.

chiraag made me spot out a guy i thought was hot. he then ever so indiscreetly went up to him (not knowing him at all), saying "you're cool on beer?" the guy, kind of confused, said "ummm, yea." chiraag then looked at his drink and goes, "oh shit, i'm not. this is my friend becky by the way. i'll be right back." he left.

i talked. and talked. and talked. i talk too much. i truly, truly do. i hate it. i start to get nervous, and thus talk even more. when sober, i'll stop, when drunk, the problem gets heightened. people are so polite and pretend not to mind.

so, nothing happened, and my crew took a cab back to the village, which took forever. joe kissed these two girls who were in a cab at a red light, while we were trying to hail one. undead did that drunken flirtation he does with every specimen with a sexual organ. the men get wrestled with. the women get fondled.

i passed out with chiraag on a couch, woke up @ 7:30 AM, drove home, listening to willie nelson, and futzed around for a few hours, til i went to work.

i made my myspace profile declare my sexual orientation as bisexual, given i am. i think it's unfair to be queer, and reap the benefits of it, yet not deal with the stigma and shit that goes along with it. cowardly really. my mom would always say it's none of their business, but honestly, sometimes i feel so deceptive.

so two co-workers befriended me on myspace, and they must know, unless they think i'm joking. one of them jokingly calls me a lesbian because of my birks.

i used to care, but honestly, my family and friends know and don't mind. why should i keep a part of me hidden because carly, my supervisor, who is 21, engaged, takes her retail job @ platypus far too seriously and spends most of her energy maintaining her image as the all american girl via shopping, self-involved stories that would be suicide inducing coming from the mouth of an ugly person, and ensuring her fianc continues to climb the corporate latter, might give a shit?

i won't consider my image really at all, considering these types of people would be my main detractors. fuck that.

i came into work today, surprised to find out that dan and i were expected to pick everett up from the airport. this came as a shock to me, given everett said it was a possibility, not a definite obligation, during our last conversation.

two nights ago we were both drunk on the phone; me in a bar in long branch, nj and he at his apartment in rome, when he asked me if i could drive him home from the airport, if his parents couldn't. i said he'd have to give me a heads up, because i needed to get coverage at work. by 6 PM last night, i heard no word, and thus didn't think about it.

i would have loved to pick him up from the airport, and catch up on the ride home, but i have a job, bills and a life.

his dad called dan and i at work, in a presumptuous tone, expecting us to pick up his son. i'm not a mom or a chauffer... thanks, pick up your own son, given you haven't seen him since august.

i had a breakdown this morning.

i am articulate, and can write at a decent level, but don't know nearly as much as i would like about history, current events, literature, etc. i went through this ignorant time of my life, that lasted far too long, where i equated learning with being a tool. instead i hung out with perpetual hanger-outers; pool halls, bowling alleys, diners, basements, living rooms, this is where i spent my time.

now i find myself out of many intellectual loops. i read a decent amount, but don't retain as much as i would like. i need more discipline to just sustain a kind of rigorous level of inquiry regarding my culture and world. when i start getting psycho though, i feel like "fitter, happier" from ok computer and hate my life.

i regret not having cultivated my brain, like my sister, mom and dad do. my house is like a library. my parents bought their house solely because of the bookshelves in the walls.

my dad is a high school drop out though, and spent much of his youth in pool halls. now he's known in my town as being one of the smartest men around. he's on the board of the secular humanists of monmouth county, reads constantly, and engages every morning in political debate against the rather red-tainted beliefs of my town's inhabitants, over coffee at the corner store.

my mom, who graduated 2nd in her high school class, went to college on scholarship, edited magazines, did labor work, non-profit fundraising and tons of other stuff, spends her days watching HGTV, cutting coupons and talking to our cats. she reads an okay amount, but it just goes to show, that what ends up in the long-haul is important.

so i try to tell myself that, and not dwell on my retarded past.

i just get down on myself for being so unwolrdly though. it's like i want to know it all a.s.a.p., and thus devise this horribly impractical strategy for doing so, consequently fail, and then condemn myself for being a stupid piece of shit.

it reminds of that quote in eternal sunshine for the spotless mind when clementine brings joel to her apartment the first night, and she says how she always is scared she isnt seizing life. i feel that way intellectually and experientially too. i'm too extreme.

i talk to myself in the car as if i'm being interviewed.

i answer questions that no one really ever asks, although i wish they would, to some imaginary person who gets it. i get really detailed about my responses. i bought a microphone with the intention of recording them. i left it in philadelphia. i need to start recording them. it's like my innermost thoughts articulated. instead of taxi cab confessions, it's like lonely solitude exposing itself.

this morning i cried. i did method acting for like 3 years in high school. fast foward to the year 2005, and i have few close ties with people who are on the same level as me. not that they're above or below me, but they just wouldn't get IT. so, i make theatre in my bathroom. that sounded weird. but i lock the door, and just ball out crying, stuff i would have confessed in an acting class.

today i did a scene before work in which i'm in a relationship with a guy. i used this guy i barely know, and who doesn't know me.

it was like 4 years into our relationship, and he wanted a baby.

i was telling him i didn't. and the thing is, i don't.

my parents are wonderful in great ways. i still think though, that my mom should not have had kids. she lived an unhealthy lifestyle, allowed her anger to get the best of her, wasn't home often, and when she finally was home, it was because she was on disability, requiring her be on an oxygen machine and sleep the day away. she spends her nights watching television and playing freecell.

i hate her so much sometimes.

she gave me so much grief. i don't want to do that to anyone else. ever. i mean it too. i'm too self-involved, selfish and fucked up to want to take care of someone else, as much as i like kids.

i can barely maintain a stable relationship with my parents, who would do anything for me. why pass on such dysfunction? my parents never grew up, and i see the same immaturity in myself. i like being immature. i don't plan on changing soon. i also don't plan on having kids. most people shouldn't be parents. so many are negligant, self-involved, unhealthy mentally & physically, and immature. i don't want to sound like i'm endorsing some sort of eugenics or anything, but not everyone should procreate. not for the sake of the race, but for the sake of kids.

i'll be content pursuing my pleasures in life. theatre, reading, friends, travel, books, movies. there's so much more to life than just passing on your dna.

i should just be a lesbian, take care of my own shit, befriend a lover, have best of both worlds in one person, and escape this homogenized landscape of heterosexuality.

this is what i say and think often. but when i do meet a guy i like, i can't help but admit that i do indeed like guys.

i like girls too though.

this girl who i work with, invited dan and i to go to barnacle bills, her uncle's restaurant, tomorrow for a closed off to the public (but open bar) party.

i love this restaurant.

they give you peanuts while you wait at the table, and you can throw the shells on the floor. the novelty of this was astounding at age 5, and has not worn off since. i love it. it's great for food fights. the bar is really nice. it's right on the water, in rumson i think.

so, we're going to that tomorrow after work.

there's this one guy i work with, who i flirt with a little bit. i don't try to, but i'm just so bubbly (when not totally bitchy and quiet) and he's so friendly. he gives hugs, but says jokes all the time too.

the thing is though, he's a born again christian.

i already told him that "jesus will probably never be a part of my life." he was shocked, but cool with it. he doesn't shove it down anyone's throat, which i like. he's also a born again virgin, waiting til marriage. but he still has that streak in him from before he was christian. he was so rad. he still is. he bikes, listens to good music (other than the christian rap he loves), rock climbs, can be funny, artistic, and a good listener.

but alas, he has a girlfriend from his youth group and is a born again christian for christ's sake. that's a bit much. i actually had the thought of "would i convert...?" for like 2 seconds, until i realized how fucking toolish that would be, along with wish-washy and against what i believe. i'm not fucking george costanza, willing to enter some weird, orthodox church, for the sake of a relationship (which i don't even possess with the guy anyway).

he said something so fucking funny today. richard, our manager, is gay. gregg, (the b.a.c.), was being obnoxious toward richard. richard goes "that's not very christian of you." gregg, in this tone that was obviously playful, but also obviously about richard being gay, goes "you're not very christian." i fucking DIED. i lost it.

but yea, this entry is long. i doubt anyone read it all. other than me. i'll read it again quite a few times, in that self-obsessed way i have with my writing. if i read as much as i wrote, i'd be well-read, as opposed to inarticulately expressed.