I did not find this on my own. It was on my newsfeed, posted from a wise woman, who I'm proud to say is a fellow New Paltz alum. Thank you Kay Kerimian, for always putting things into perspective.
Monday, December 27, 2010
As Long as You Love Me So, Let is Snow...
It is December 27th...soon to be December 28th....and I have yet to go home and celebrate Christmas with my family. First, work has prevented me from getting home, and now the effects of this blizzard. Normally I would be in that, "Let it snow," state, where I'd be enjoying the flakes while sitting around a toasty fire with my family, having an extra-chocolately helping of hot cocoa. However, the-since-we-have-no-place-to-go line couldn't be farther from the truth. I do have somewhere to go, or did...
It's been quite frustrating staying home in the apartment, when I had other plans that needed to be fulfilled! But I read, exercised, and watched a movie.
I mentioned in my last blog that I have been watching a lot of movies lately. They have all pertained to Christmas and the Christmas spirit! And just now I saw Hook, that interestingly enough took place right around Christmas time. It is a truly marvelous tale that had my heart pounding with childlike anticipation. I remember liking the movie for its cleverness and fantastical storyline, but I couldn't remember the details, which is ironically similar to Peter Pan forgetting his childhood and all of Never Never Land. However, like Pan, I soon remembered, as I watched Robin Williams find his happy thought, which was being a father and having a family. Immediately after discovering this thought, he regained his flying capabilities, defeated the infamous Captain James Hook, and returned home to the ones he loved.
Unfortunately, after finishing this feel-good movie, I found out some horrible news. A girl whom I went to college with has past away. Her name was Noelle Lucivero. I couldn't claim to have known her very well, but regardless, having known someone at all who died at such a young age, is always a land-quaking experience. We were in Dance and Movement class together, and I remember her always being late or not showing to class. But she shouldn't be remembered for that. Dance was obviously her passion; she was even a dance teacher. During school, I remember her participating in Fresh Dance and represented the Dance Team. She seemed to wear leg warmers, all year round, which actually suited her nicely. I remember her in one Freshdance number where they had to do many high kicks and splits. She was the smallest girl (height wise) and the last one in their Rockette-like line. She apparently sprained her ankle during the number, but nonetheless, did the final split when her turn waved in. She was a trooper, to say the least. That was FreshDance 07, my sophomore year of college. As I recall, it was also termed, "The Freshdance from Hell," due to countless people getting hurt or sick during the performance!
Apparently, Noelle was hit by a car. I know this due to Facebook. On facebook everyone is writing on her wall, stating what a beautifully talented, kind person she was, and how she will be sorely missed. These statements are addressed to her, as if she'll ever be able to log on and read them. They are all heart-felt and written with sincerity, but perhaps it's more of a cathartic ritual, to type out one's thoughts than to say them to oneself or in personal prayers. I suppose they feel like they are really talking to her, and one day she will be able to read these sentiments. I'm unsure, but I guess I'm writing my own rest in peace statement via blog rather than social network. Perhaps, then, it is not much different.
We think we're so young; so immortal! But this could happen to any of us, at any time. I'm not saying to live a life of fear, but do live a life worth living. Live a life that makes you happy, because our days are numbered, if we realize it or not. Despite materialistic gifts, high marks, and financial success, those are not the events we will remember when looking back on our happiest, most cherished moments of our lives.
I am lucky to even be alive, especially with caring friends and family. And although I wasn't able to see them as early as I would have liked, at least I will be able to actually spend time with them, AT ALL. Tomorrow, in fact, if this wind finally ceases.
Sometimes, I feel we don't get what we want in order to make us realize what really matters in our lives. Maybe, I needed this storm, to truly appreciate how much I love my family and how much I desperately wanted to get home to see them. I am guilty of taking their love and kindness for granted. It's not intentional, of course, but it definitely does happen. I have a terrible tendency of getting swept up in the little problems, that truly are exactly that: little. And similar to when I saw the Rockefeller Christmas tree, to now, after seeing Hook, I remember how amazing it is to have a family that loves me and supports me; who will wait 3 whole freakin' days to celebrate the best time of the year with me. Perhaps, it is a necessity to have occasions like these, in order to snap us back into the here and now, and remember the reasons why we live this life in the first place. Because without hope, without love, without friends and without family, life wouldn't really be much of a life at all, now would it?
Happy holidays everyone. Take in the New Year with open arms, and remember how you can make this world not only a better place for yourself, but for others as well.
As Peter Pan says, "To live would be an awfully big adventure."
x0x0
It's been quite frustrating staying home in the apartment, when I had other plans that needed to be fulfilled! But I read, exercised, and watched a movie.
I mentioned in my last blog that I have been watching a lot of movies lately. They have all pertained to Christmas and the Christmas spirit! And just now I saw Hook, that interestingly enough took place right around Christmas time. It is a truly marvelous tale that had my heart pounding with childlike anticipation. I remember liking the movie for its cleverness and fantastical storyline, but I couldn't remember the details, which is ironically similar to Peter Pan forgetting his childhood and all of Never Never Land. However, like Pan, I soon remembered, as I watched Robin Williams find his happy thought, which was being a father and having a family. Immediately after discovering this thought, he regained his flying capabilities, defeated the infamous Captain James Hook, and returned home to the ones he loved.
Unfortunately, after finishing this feel-good movie, I found out some horrible news. A girl whom I went to college with has past away. Her name was Noelle Lucivero. I couldn't claim to have known her very well, but regardless, having known someone at all who died at such a young age, is always a land-quaking experience. We were in Dance and Movement class together, and I remember her always being late or not showing to class. But she shouldn't be remembered for that. Dance was obviously her passion; she was even a dance teacher. During school, I remember her participating in Fresh Dance and represented the Dance Team. She seemed to wear leg warmers, all year round, which actually suited her nicely. I remember her in one Freshdance number where they had to do many high kicks and splits. She was the smallest girl (height wise) and the last one in their Rockette-like line. She apparently sprained her ankle during the number, but nonetheless, did the final split when her turn waved in. She was a trooper, to say the least. That was FreshDance 07, my sophomore year of college. As I recall, it was also termed, "The Freshdance from Hell," due to countless people getting hurt or sick during the performance!
Apparently, Noelle was hit by a car. I know this due to Facebook. On facebook everyone is writing on her wall, stating what a beautifully talented, kind person she was, and how she will be sorely missed. These statements are addressed to her, as if she'll ever be able to log on and read them. They are all heart-felt and written with sincerity, but perhaps it's more of a cathartic ritual, to type out one's thoughts than to say them to oneself or in personal prayers. I suppose they feel like they are really talking to her, and one day she will be able to read these sentiments. I'm unsure, but I guess I'm writing my own rest in peace statement via blog rather than social network. Perhaps, then, it is not much different.
We think we're so young; so immortal! But this could happen to any of us, at any time. I'm not saying to live a life of fear, but do live a life worth living. Live a life that makes you happy, because our days are numbered, if we realize it or not. Despite materialistic gifts, high marks, and financial success, those are not the events we will remember when looking back on our happiest, most cherished moments of our lives.
I am lucky to even be alive, especially with caring friends and family. And although I wasn't able to see them as early as I would have liked, at least I will be able to actually spend time with them, AT ALL. Tomorrow, in fact, if this wind finally ceases.
Sometimes, I feel we don't get what we want in order to make us realize what really matters in our lives. Maybe, I needed this storm, to truly appreciate how much I love my family and how much I desperately wanted to get home to see them. I am guilty of taking their love and kindness for granted. It's not intentional, of course, but it definitely does happen. I have a terrible tendency of getting swept up in the little problems, that truly are exactly that: little. And similar to when I saw the Rockefeller Christmas tree, to now, after seeing Hook, I remember how amazing it is to have a family that loves me and supports me; who will wait 3 whole freakin' days to celebrate the best time of the year with me. Perhaps, it is a necessity to have occasions like these, in order to snap us back into the here and now, and remember the reasons why we live this life in the first place. Because without hope, without love, without friends and without family, life wouldn't really be much of a life at all, now would it?
Happy holidays everyone. Take in the New Year with open arms, and remember how you can make this world not only a better place for yourself, but for others as well.
As Peter Pan says, "To live would be an awfully big adventure."
x0x0
Saturday, December 25, 2010
It's True Wherever You Find Love, it Feels Like Christmas!
Today is Christmas Eve. Well, since it's almost 1:30AM I guess it really is Christmas day, technically. Like Thanksgiving, I was quite depressed by being scheduled to work on a family holiday. I've never been from my family during these important times of the year, and originally it was somewhat hard to cope; especially for Christmas. I was trying to scheme all kinds of ways to get around it. At first, I was planning on leaving after my shift ended at eight pm on Christmas Eve, and going home on the train late that night. I'd wake up early on Christmas day, open gifts, and head back to the city for work by noon. Although I'd be able to spend family time on the official day, I would be as exhausted as a gerbil stuck in a plastic ball. Then I'd be cranky and probably feel gypped due to lack of time spent home on, "Th most wonderful day of the year!" NO ONE wants those feelings to creep in around Christmas time. Besides, my shifts changed before I had time to devise a proper plan.
People were let go or moving on to bigger and better jobs this season, and so, schedules had to be rearranged for everyone. It was a somewhat upsetting surprise, but we all bounced back. Well, most of us. When I told my mom I wasn't off until the 27th of December instead of the 26th, I saw her eyes droop and brows furrow in concern. Eventually, she became a good sport about the idea, comforting me that her and the family would wait to exchange gifts and celebrate until I came home. I feel really blessed that they'd do that for me. If my brother was the one to delay my Christmas by 2 days I'd probably be miffed at him. However, I'd rather have it with him 2 days late than not have it with him at all....
Well, since I've been pretty much alone this Christmas season, I've been doing things to get myself into the spirit! I don't mean to sound sad, because even though I have been on my own this December, it's been a pretty wonderful time. Now that I'm out of school, I've actually had TIME to get into the holiday spirit. I've watched a plethora of Christmas movies that I love. I'm not kidding...I'm going to rattle off as many as I can remember.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, The Santa Clause, A Christmas Carol (2001), Charlie Brown's Christmas, Pluto's Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol, Babes in Toyland, All Dogs Christmas Carol, Frosty the Snowman, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and A Muppets Christmas Carol (2x.)
I'd NEVER get to watch all of these movies when I was still trying to piece together papers for my English classes! I've been lucky to find some of these on YouTube in sections or on instant NetFlix or Hulu. I was unsuccessful at finding The Grinch, which still makes me feel unsatisfied. That movie is a real staple in my prep for Christmas. I guess I'll have to dust off the VHS I have in one of the forgotten cabinets at home.
Another spirit booster really is living within the city itself. It's unavoidable. Decorations and lights are lit from within the stores lining Times Square, luring customers in with their soft glow, illuminating signs of so-called great sales.
One thing that truly made me miss home was not having a Christmas tree in my apartment. At home, there'd be nights I'd sit on my couch in the living room, the house lights off, reveling in the ever-changing colors intertwined within our hand-picked evergreen. The angel atop, protecting our tree and everything it stands for, over-shadowed the ornaments, with it's soft on-again-off-again light. I think it's one of the most beautiful mixtures of man and nature ever created, and for some reason, it always makes my limbs, my chest, and my shoulders, all feel lighter. At any rate, my mom, having the mom-sense tingling, gave me a small, fake Christmas tree that has been within her family for 30 years. It was soon NYC bound, a lovely sight to see. Across the street from me is a department store that literally has everything I could have imagined. I bought some decorations to spruce up my Charlie Brown tree. It's just what I needed to make it really feel like Christmas. Here, take a gander!
Isn't it nice? I even added some little, shiny presents that were one buck in total. Right now I have my wrapped gifts for my family under that small circular table, so it does feel like there are actual gifts that came from Santa.
Although I did work today, on Christmas Eve, in actuality it was a very rewarding day. I only had to work from 12-5 and I was a Greeter. I feel it was the best job I could have asked for, because the whole day I was able to wish people a Merry Christmas! I mean, there were some technicalities thrown in there, where some people were rejected admission because we were no longer accepting walk-ins, but hey- it's Christmas! There's no reason to be unhappy, even if you can't get a table! But in all seriousness, it was nice to spread some holiday cheer where...it was...spread...able? My cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much. And I get to do it all day tomorrow, on actual Christmas. I should probably buy a Santa Hat. I mean, they sell em all over the street. They probably aren't more than 5 bucks...
***
Well, today, since I had some time to kill, I figured I'd see the tree. You know what I'm talkin' about when I say THE tree right? Only the biggest Christmas Tree in the nation? It's in Rockefeller Center and I have yet to see it first hand. Although it was getting windier, my smile never ceased as I trekked along to see the beacon of light. I bought myself some hot chocolate and headed over to 50th street. I took some pictures along the way, capturing the giant, red christmas ornaments and the small trees, lit with gold and silver bulbs covering every inch of bark. I finally turned a bend, and there it was. I tried to count the stories its branches reached, and I believe it was 12. It was a beautiful sight to behold. I snapped a couple of shots of it's majestic size and then just sat on a bench and watched it. I felt like I was back in my living room, except it was colder, the surface was harder, and there were a lot of bundled up strangers, some speaking in tongues.
I observed those strangers. All were with family. Some of the families were taking pictures, hugging and smiling with one another. Other families, like the family sitting next to me, seemed to be frustrated, unsure what to do next. A complete humbug is the proper term. A boy around my age was whining to his mom and complaining that he didn't want to be there. I wanted to give that boy a look of havoc. You're with your family, bud, and you're looking upon the largest Christmas Tree you've ever seen with your naked eye, and instead of enjoying it you're being a little sour-puss? Grow-the-heck UP! But of course, I didn't even acknowledge their presence. Instead I wrote in my journal and just sat, enjoying my hot chocolate and watching the tree. I felt like Kevin McCallister from Home Alone 2, where on Christmas Eve he is looking up at that same tree, wishing he could see his family one last time. It was then I felt myself wishing my mom or brother or dad were there on that bench with me. Although we can sometimes lose patience with one another, it would have been nice to share this experience with one of them.
Next thing I know, this boy comes up to me and asks if there are any reasonably priced ice skating rinks around the area. I told him of the one 50ft away from him and the one in Bryant Park, but neither were considered cheap. I was being friendly and my guard was down. It's Christmas after all.
That's when he introduced himself and said to me, "Wow, you're really cute. We would have some pretty hot babies."
And my moment of solitude, watching the lights glimmer while I reflected on all that I should be thankful for? Gone. He wasn't a bad kid, but he sat down next to me while I was writing. I felt like he intruded upon my Christmas Eve without an invitation. He's a fitness trainer, so he felt my "guns," asked if I partied, smoked pot, drank a lot, if I've ever dated a younger guy (like himself) and if I've ever cheated on a boyfriend. Then he preceded to tell me how he's hooked up with a lot of girls and then afterwards they'd tell him they're in a relationship. "It's not that I'm saying all girls cheat," apparently he's just experienced a lot of them cheating, with him. Then he went on how he liked the older, mature girls, like myself. He thought I was at least 24, and when I corrected him at my actual age, a prime 22, he seemed shocked.
At any rate, personal questions were being asked and information was being volunteered that I didn't want to deal with on Christmas Eve. I felt myself getting more and more distant. My answers became shorter and I began to notice every small break between our sentences. Instead of listening to him, I found myself pondering an excuse to leave. I wanted to get to back to my apartment where I could heat up some left overs and watch another round of Muppets Christmas Carol before I crashed into sleepy land. At the end of it, he said we should hang some time. My response was a, "Maybe." That word didn't sit too well with him. He asked for my number, and I told him that I wasn't looking to get involved with anyone right now. He insisted, claiming he didn't want to either. He suggested we could go ice-skating or go for a drink, nothing fancy. I gave in, not wanting to argue on Christmas. I went to leave, sticking out my hand, but he grabbed my shoulders and gave me a hug. I tell ya...when you want to be alone, you can't! And when you can't bare to be alone no one is around! Ya just can't win!
I'm sorry for the length of this. I realize it's unnecessarily long, but I did want to end on a positive, thought-provoking note. While at work, I was getting a drink from the soda holster by the bar. The bartender, whose name escapes me at the moment, was there, and so I asked him if he was off tomorrow for Christmas. His response was no, he was not off, so he wouldn't be celebrating it this year. My face frowned automatically, feeling sorry for him. He shook off my sympathy, telling me that in this business, you can't be so hooked up on specific days. He said, everyday should be like Christmas, where you appreciate the ones you love, show kindness to others, and extend a helping hand to those in need. It shouldn't be solely one day of the year. He told me, that when one DOES have off, then you should try to see family and friends, spending those days with loved ones. Those days you have off should be well spent, and appreciated. And, in all honesty, that really hit home. Although I really am an enthusiast for celebrating holidays on the given day, these were enlightening words. I guess, even though I am working, I will have to find the holiday spirit and spread it with those I'm working with and with those I'm greeting tomorrow. The day is going to happen if I'm with my family or not, so I might as well enjoy it to the best of my ability!
Now, these words coincide with a song from the one and only, MUPPETS CHRISTMAS CAROL!
The song doesn't actually start until around 1:55. However, I would strongly suggest you watch the clip from beginning to end, because I truly love this movie in its entirety, from the bottom of my heart. I hope it makes you smile, and reminds you that the spirit of Christmas should be in your hearts all year round!
xoxo
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
People were let go or moving on to bigger and better jobs this season, and so, schedules had to be rearranged for everyone. It was a somewhat upsetting surprise, but we all bounced back. Well, most of us. When I told my mom I wasn't off until the 27th of December instead of the 26th, I saw her eyes droop and brows furrow in concern. Eventually, she became a good sport about the idea, comforting me that her and the family would wait to exchange gifts and celebrate until I came home. I feel really blessed that they'd do that for me. If my brother was the one to delay my Christmas by 2 days I'd probably be miffed at him. However, I'd rather have it with him 2 days late than not have it with him at all....
Well, since I've been pretty much alone this Christmas season, I've been doing things to get myself into the spirit! I don't mean to sound sad, because even though I have been on my own this December, it's been a pretty wonderful time. Now that I'm out of school, I've actually had TIME to get into the holiday spirit. I've watched a plethora of Christmas movies that I love. I'm not kidding...I'm going to rattle off as many as I can remember.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, The Santa Clause, A Christmas Carol (2001), Charlie Brown's Christmas, Pluto's Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol, Babes in Toyland, All Dogs Christmas Carol, Frosty the Snowman, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and A Muppets Christmas Carol (2x.)
I'd NEVER get to watch all of these movies when I was still trying to piece together papers for my English classes! I've been lucky to find some of these on YouTube in sections or on instant NetFlix or Hulu. I was unsuccessful at finding The Grinch, which still makes me feel unsatisfied. That movie is a real staple in my prep for Christmas. I guess I'll have to dust off the VHS I have in one of the forgotten cabinets at home.
Another spirit booster really is living within the city itself. It's unavoidable. Decorations and lights are lit from within the stores lining Times Square, luring customers in with their soft glow, illuminating signs of so-called great sales.
One thing that truly made me miss home was not having a Christmas tree in my apartment. At home, there'd be nights I'd sit on my couch in the living room, the house lights off, reveling in the ever-changing colors intertwined within our hand-picked evergreen. The angel atop, protecting our tree and everything it stands for, over-shadowed the ornaments, with it's soft on-again-off-again light. I think it's one of the most beautiful mixtures of man and nature ever created, and for some reason, it always makes my limbs, my chest, and my shoulders, all feel lighter. At any rate, my mom, having the mom-sense tingling, gave me a small, fake Christmas tree that has been within her family for 30 years. It was soon NYC bound, a lovely sight to see. Across the street from me is a department store that literally has everything I could have imagined. I bought some decorations to spruce up my Charlie Brown tree. It's just what I needed to make it really feel like Christmas. Here, take a gander!
Although I did work today, on Christmas Eve, in actuality it was a very rewarding day. I only had to work from 12-5 and I was a Greeter. I feel it was the best job I could have asked for, because the whole day I was able to wish people a Merry Christmas! I mean, there were some technicalities thrown in there, where some people were rejected admission because we were no longer accepting walk-ins, but hey- it's Christmas! There's no reason to be unhappy, even if you can't get a table! But in all seriousness, it was nice to spread some holiday cheer where...it was...spread...able? My cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much. And I get to do it all day tomorrow, on actual Christmas. I should probably buy a Santa Hat. I mean, they sell em all over the street. They probably aren't more than 5 bucks...
***
Well, today, since I had some time to kill, I figured I'd see the tree. You know what I'm talkin' about when I say THE tree right? Only the biggest Christmas Tree in the nation? It's in Rockefeller Center and I have yet to see it first hand. Although it was getting windier, my smile never ceased as I trekked along to see the beacon of light. I bought myself some hot chocolate and headed over to 50th street. I took some pictures along the way, capturing the giant, red christmas ornaments and the small trees, lit with gold and silver bulbs covering every inch of bark. I finally turned a bend, and there it was. I tried to count the stories its branches reached, and I believe it was 12. It was a beautiful sight to behold. I snapped a couple of shots of it's majestic size and then just sat on a bench and watched it. I felt like I was back in my living room, except it was colder, the surface was harder, and there were a lot of bundled up strangers, some speaking in tongues.
I observed those strangers. All were with family. Some of the families were taking pictures, hugging and smiling with one another. Other families, like the family sitting next to me, seemed to be frustrated, unsure what to do next. A complete humbug is the proper term. A boy around my age was whining to his mom and complaining that he didn't want to be there. I wanted to give that boy a look of havoc. You're with your family, bud, and you're looking upon the largest Christmas Tree you've ever seen with your naked eye, and instead of enjoying it you're being a little sour-puss? Grow-the-heck UP! But of course, I didn't even acknowledge their presence. Instead I wrote in my journal and just sat, enjoying my hot chocolate and watching the tree. I felt like Kevin McCallister from Home Alone 2, where on Christmas Eve he is looking up at that same tree, wishing he could see his family one last time. It was then I felt myself wishing my mom or brother or dad were there on that bench with me. Although we can sometimes lose patience with one another, it would have been nice to share this experience with one of them.
Next thing I know, this boy comes up to me and asks if there are any reasonably priced ice skating rinks around the area. I told him of the one 50ft away from him and the one in Bryant Park, but neither were considered cheap. I was being friendly and my guard was down. It's Christmas after all.
That's when he introduced himself and said to me, "Wow, you're really cute. We would have some pretty hot babies."
And my moment of solitude, watching the lights glimmer while I reflected on all that I should be thankful for? Gone. He wasn't a bad kid, but he sat down next to me while I was writing. I felt like he intruded upon my Christmas Eve without an invitation. He's a fitness trainer, so he felt my "guns," asked if I partied, smoked pot, drank a lot, if I've ever dated a younger guy (like himself) and if I've ever cheated on a boyfriend. Then he preceded to tell me how he's hooked up with a lot of girls and then afterwards they'd tell him they're in a relationship. "It's not that I'm saying all girls cheat," apparently he's just experienced a lot of them cheating, with him. Then he went on how he liked the older, mature girls, like myself. He thought I was at least 24, and when I corrected him at my actual age, a prime 22, he seemed shocked.
At any rate, personal questions were being asked and information was being volunteered that I didn't want to deal with on Christmas Eve. I felt myself getting more and more distant. My answers became shorter and I began to notice every small break between our sentences. Instead of listening to him, I found myself pondering an excuse to leave. I wanted to get to back to my apartment where I could heat up some left overs and watch another round of Muppets Christmas Carol before I crashed into sleepy land. At the end of it, he said we should hang some time. My response was a, "Maybe." That word didn't sit too well with him. He asked for my number, and I told him that I wasn't looking to get involved with anyone right now. He insisted, claiming he didn't want to either. He suggested we could go ice-skating or go for a drink, nothing fancy. I gave in, not wanting to argue on Christmas. I went to leave, sticking out my hand, but he grabbed my shoulders and gave me a hug. I tell ya...when you want to be alone, you can't! And when you can't bare to be alone no one is around! Ya just can't win!
I'm sorry for the length of this. I realize it's unnecessarily long, but I did want to end on a positive, thought-provoking note. While at work, I was getting a drink from the soda holster by the bar. The bartender, whose name escapes me at the moment, was there, and so I asked him if he was off tomorrow for Christmas. His response was no, he was not off, so he wouldn't be celebrating it this year. My face frowned automatically, feeling sorry for him. He shook off my sympathy, telling me that in this business, you can't be so hooked up on specific days. He said, everyday should be like Christmas, where you appreciate the ones you love, show kindness to others, and extend a helping hand to those in need. It shouldn't be solely one day of the year. He told me, that when one DOES have off, then you should try to see family and friends, spending those days with loved ones. Those days you have off should be well spent, and appreciated. And, in all honesty, that really hit home. Although I really am an enthusiast for celebrating holidays on the given day, these were enlightening words. I guess, even though I am working, I will have to find the holiday spirit and spread it with those I'm working with and with those I'm greeting tomorrow. The day is going to happen if I'm with my family or not, so I might as well enjoy it to the best of my ability!
Now, these words coincide with a song from the one and only, MUPPETS CHRISTMAS CAROL!
xoxo
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Spin-Cycle Success!
Ok, I know I will sound absolutely batty, but since I've moved here, and that's been since the middle of October mind you, I have not used a laundry mat. Laundromat? Laundrymat? Ok I just looked it up, and it is Laundromat. My whole life I've totally pronounced it Laun-dree-mat. I don't even know how to say it properly. Well, that makes me look competent.
Anyway, yeeeees I have been washing my clothes. Every time I travel home via LIRR, which seems to be weekly, I take a black, rolly suitcase full of my dirty clothes. Mom's always thrilled. However, I haven't been there in a while and it was time for me to take the icy, cold plunge into the foreign waters of Laundromat Land.
I guess the reason I dreaded it so, was not because of the places itself or because I had to pay, but because I knew I'd have NO idea what I was doing. Sure I used the school laundry rooms all the time. Well, when I say all the time, I mean when laundry became so highly piled in my closet, I knew I could could no longer ignore its presence. However, those machines were easy peasy, and they were located in my building! This is completely different and foreign! I decided to go to the Laundromat across the street, which has been warned by my roommate and his girlfriend. I guess there were some machines there that didn't work when they had a go at the facilities. However, I just couldn't resist the brightly yellow painted interior, nor the white Christmas lights hanging inside from all its corners.
I felt I had good laundry-day attire on, as odd as that sounds. I had striped leggins, a striped thermal covered by a some-what large button up sweater and my cable knit cap. The color sequence was mostly blues, grays and dark purples. I felt subdued and somewhat city-bum, which strangely enough, was comforting. My look also seemed effortless, and you guessed it, like I ran out of clothes to wear.
Well, I entered with my brave face on, carrying my turquoise laundry bag over my shoulder like St. Nicholas. It was pretty much abandoned except for two ladies washing their clothes, and one woman sweeping the floor. There were signs everywhere, in both English and Spanish, describing how there are no refunds if you over-soap your load, how they aren't responsible for lost clothes, etc. I guess you really just have to cover your ass, in every business. Everything was yellow though, which I loved. The golden, somewhat dark yellow color tried to over-compensate for the poor condition of the walls, lined with smudges and marks from people and large apparatuses alike. Even the signs were this color. The only thing that contrasted was the blaring silver machines staring at each other from across the building.
Now the fun started; washing. I pretty much looked like a lost child in a mall from the very start. There's no denying that. I only brought my work clothes over, so if I messed up in some unforgiving way, I would be totally screwed and have nothing to wear five days of the week. Perfect. I studied the washing machines, and figured I would try the medium sized washer, however, these didn't have a price blinking on them. The smaller ones were $1.75 a load, the largest one was $6.50 a load, and the middle ones were somewhere in between, but where, exactly, I couldn't tell you. So I had to shuffle on over to the sweeping lady and ask her. She drew out $4.50 with her fingers while slowly saying, "four, five, zero," in a heavy Spanish accent. Since I had nothing to compare it to, I decided that must be a decent price. As I headed back to my chosen machine, I realized there was only a slot for quarters. Now I had some quarters in my possession, but not four dollars and fifty cents worth. So I apologetically asked the woman again, mid-sweep, where I could get quarters. I explained with a lot of hand motions that I saw the ATM and I had cash, but not enough in cents. Apparently the machine was right behind her. That was another "Doiy," moment. I was about to insert one paper honest Abe, when I realized another woman wanted to use the change machine too. I gestured for her to use it first, but she insisted I go. Secretly, I would have rather she gone. Then I could quietly observe her tricks of the trade, and in turn obviously look like a laundromat pro!
This woman's kindness didn't cease, however! After I let the machine eat my cash, she made sure to place her hand in front of lip where the quarters were falling into. That way, none splashed onto the floor and out of sight. Later on she suggested I use the smaller machines because, "they best." I asked her if they fit large loads, but she pointed to her decent sized pile and nodded. I'll take advice from nice, local ladies anytime! The woman I am renting from was completely right when she told me some of these Dominican and Spanish families really do take you under your wing. Here I was almost fearful that these ladies would laugh at me and call me "estupida," but one of them gave me advice without me even asking for it! She can just see the question marks in my eyes. Those are pretty apparent in any language, I suppose.
Anyway, I sat and did my laundry, like a true ADD-ULT. At that moment, I could almost be in an indie movie, and as I was writing in my journal with my laundry on spin cycle, a handsome young man would enter. He would be as clueless as I was moments earlier, since this would be his first time here, and he'd ask me if there was a change machine. I'd bring him to it, and then I'd be the one holding my hand in front to save his quarters from clanging into crevasses unknown. He'd laugh and then I'd laugh and then we'd both be laughing...and then we'd tell our children how we met one cold December night.
It felt I said. Obviously there was no man. But there was plenty of soap operas in spanish! From time to time I'd take breaks from writing to watching the screen above, which depicted women in pounds of lavishly displayed cosmetics, crying in every clip, without, mind you, mascara running down their cheeks. Their skill for instant-cry mode is envy-worthy and their make-up is as perfect as if done by drag queens themselves. Those are two things I've learned thus far from the spanish soap genre.
At any rate, I'm proud nothing shrunk, over-soaped, became stuck, tore, molded or stained in this process. I still have one more load, at least, chilling on my floor...in the laundry bag, MA! They are not just on my floor scattered about. So I will have to go to the "Yellow Room," once more. It will give me a chance to imagine my own laundromat soap opera, in English, as I sit and wait on the sun-beam colored bench. Or I could just watch more Soy Tu Duena.
Until more clothes need a'washin'.....
x0x0
Kristen
Anyway, yeeeees I have been washing my clothes. Every time I travel home via LIRR, which seems to be weekly, I take a black, rolly suitcase full of my dirty clothes. Mom's always thrilled. However, I haven't been there in a while and it was time for me to take the icy, cold plunge into the foreign waters of Laundromat Land.
I guess the reason I dreaded it so, was not because of the places itself or because I had to pay, but because I knew I'd have NO idea what I was doing. Sure I used the school laundry rooms all the time. Well, when I say all the time, I mean when laundry became so highly piled in my closet, I knew I could could no longer ignore its presence. However, those machines were easy peasy, and they were located in my building! This is completely different and foreign! I decided to go to the Laundromat across the street, which has been warned by my roommate and his girlfriend. I guess there were some machines there that didn't work when they had a go at the facilities. However, I just couldn't resist the brightly yellow painted interior, nor the white Christmas lights hanging inside from all its corners.
I felt I had good laundry-day attire on, as odd as that sounds. I had striped leggins, a striped thermal covered by a some-what large button up sweater and my cable knit cap. The color sequence was mostly blues, grays and dark purples. I felt subdued and somewhat city-bum, which strangely enough, was comforting. My look also seemed effortless, and you guessed it, like I ran out of clothes to wear.
Well, I entered with my brave face on, carrying my turquoise laundry bag over my shoulder like St. Nicholas. It was pretty much abandoned except for two ladies washing their clothes, and one woman sweeping the floor. There were signs everywhere, in both English and Spanish, describing how there are no refunds if you over-soap your load, how they aren't responsible for lost clothes, etc. I guess you really just have to cover your ass, in every business. Everything was yellow though, which I loved. The golden, somewhat dark yellow color tried to over-compensate for the poor condition of the walls, lined with smudges and marks from people and large apparatuses alike. Even the signs were this color. The only thing that contrasted was the blaring silver machines staring at each other from across the building.
Now the fun started; washing. I pretty much looked like a lost child in a mall from the very start. There's no denying that. I only brought my work clothes over, so if I messed up in some unforgiving way, I would be totally screwed and have nothing to wear five days of the week. Perfect. I studied the washing machines, and figured I would try the medium sized washer, however, these didn't have a price blinking on them. The smaller ones were $1.75 a load, the largest one was $6.50 a load, and the middle ones were somewhere in between, but where, exactly, I couldn't tell you. So I had to shuffle on over to the sweeping lady and ask her. She drew out $4.50 with her fingers while slowly saying, "four, five, zero," in a heavy Spanish accent. Since I had nothing to compare it to, I decided that must be a decent price. As I headed back to my chosen machine, I realized there was only a slot for quarters. Now I had some quarters in my possession, but not four dollars and fifty cents worth. So I apologetically asked the woman again, mid-sweep, where I could get quarters. I explained with a lot of hand motions that I saw the ATM and I had cash, but not enough in cents. Apparently the machine was right behind her. That was another "Doiy," moment. I was about to insert one paper honest Abe, when I realized another woman wanted to use the change machine too. I gestured for her to use it first, but she insisted I go. Secretly, I would have rather she gone. Then I could quietly observe her tricks of the trade, and in turn obviously look like a laundromat pro!
This woman's kindness didn't cease, however! After I let the machine eat my cash, she made sure to place her hand in front of lip where the quarters were falling into. That way, none splashed onto the floor and out of sight. Later on she suggested I use the smaller machines because, "they best." I asked her if they fit large loads, but she pointed to her decent sized pile and nodded. I'll take advice from nice, local ladies anytime! The woman I am renting from was completely right when she told me some of these Dominican and Spanish families really do take you under your wing. Here I was almost fearful that these ladies would laugh at me and call me "estupida," but one of them gave me advice without me even asking for it! She can just see the question marks in my eyes. Those are pretty apparent in any language, I suppose.
Anyway, I sat and did my laundry, like a true ADD-ULT. At that moment, I could almost be in an indie movie, and as I was writing in my journal with my laundry on spin cycle, a handsome young man would enter. He would be as clueless as I was moments earlier, since this would be his first time here, and he'd ask me if there was a change machine. I'd bring him to it, and then I'd be the one holding my hand in front to save his quarters from clanging into crevasses unknown. He'd laugh and then I'd laugh and then we'd both be laughing...and then we'd tell our children how we met one cold December night.
It felt I said. Obviously there was no man. But there was plenty of soap operas in spanish! From time to time I'd take breaks from writing to watching the screen above, which depicted women in pounds of lavishly displayed cosmetics, crying in every clip, without, mind you, mascara running down their cheeks. Their skill for instant-cry mode is envy-worthy and their make-up is as perfect as if done by drag queens themselves. Those are two things I've learned thus far from the spanish soap genre.
At any rate, I'm proud nothing shrunk, over-soaped, became stuck, tore, molded or stained in this process. I still have one more load, at least, chilling on my floor...in the laundry bag, MA! They are not just on my floor scattered about. So I will have to go to the "Yellow Room," once more. It will give me a chance to imagine my own laundromat soap opera, in English, as I sit and wait on the sun-beam colored bench. Or I could just watch more Soy Tu Duena.
Until more clothes need a'washin'.....
x0x0
Kristen
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Remember the Reason Why
I'm a little disgruntled. In retrospect, work tonight wasn't so bad, but much to my fault, I was letting the little things bubble into a bothersome brew.
While I was walking around work, a man named Joe C wanted me to seat him. He was very intent on getting my attention. Every time I walked by it was the same smile and compliment. I'm sorry I'm not here to try and flirt with you in front of your family, thanks. Plus, your fuzzy rudolph sweater and adidas, neon-lined jogging pants do not sweeten the deal, if there ever was a deal to sweeten. At any rate, their name was finally ready to be called. One of the other hostesses who was originally assigned to call him, resisted, complaining how creepy he was. I sighed and decided to just do it for her. I went over, and the family jumped up for joy, quite literally. The infamous Joe C practically took me in his arms and bear hugged me. It was a tad awkward to say the least. As I showed them to their table he gave me a wink, which I returned with an uncomfortable, shaky smile. Later, upon passing the table, I get a, "Ey." I looked up to Joe C nodding at me. He again states, "Ey," with, "You," to clarify, followed by, "I like you, lady. I like you." Do men really think this is polite? Never mind polite, but even affective?
Another example of today: I was walking through the ever-so-crowded bar, just like every other host does two-hundred times a night. I was guiding a family to their table, stating the usual, "Pardon me." "Excuse me," as I walked by. Apparently, I brushed up behind some man in order to squeeze my party through, who then retorted, "Oh it's OK, baby. I like it." What? Really? Do you think that's going to get you a table faster, because it's not. Also, do you think I am going to respond in ANY other way besides a disgusted look as I quicken my pace away from you? Most women I know do NOT like being talked to like that. How these men have wives really puzzles me to no end. Were they just as sleezy when the whole dating process was going on, or did they go through a detox for six months before the wedding? Or were they just desperate? Or dare I say it...these women are in love...with them...somehow?
While we're on the subject of love, I want to elucidate that I do believe in it. I can be a romantic, with strong underlying tones of realism. Love is what makes this world go round, regardless what level we're talking about here. It could be a more generalized love towards all humanity or a passionate, intensified love for a significant other, or it could be smack dab in the middle, without a real rating in sight. I really couldn't care less what kind of love you visualize when the word is used. What I do care about, is its existence, in all forms. Don't get me wrong. There is evil. There is hate, but love as trite as it sounds, has, "The power to heal," and, "To open doors." Perhaps the reason these sayings are deemed trite pertains to the conclusion that they are true, and therefore shouldn't be disregarded so hastily.
At any rate, I believe in love and dating and all that jazz, but the words baby, honey, sweetheart, and darlin' should not be used unless you are my boyfriend or my gay boyfriend. That is it. (Well, family can use those terms too. I like it when my grandma calls me sweetheart.) As far as the touching goes, it comes along with trust. Your friends can lay a hand on your shoulder or hug the stuffing out of ya because they've earned your trust. If I don't know you, at all, then why do you feel the need to touch me? Of course the exception is when theatre is involved: auditions, rehearsals and performances.
And let's get one thing clear as crystal. I moved to the city for me. I did not move here to find love, to find fame, to have sex, or to discover glory. I came here to help shape myself. I want to be open. I want different ideas, different cultures, different styles, different books, different places, different experiences, different theatre, all stemming from different people, infiltrated into my life. If money comes along with that, so be it. If, from one of those people, love is created, either through passion or through friendship, that is absolutely wonderful. Nevertheless, I did not come here to find myself. I came here to create myself, and for me, I'm just starting to discover the difference.
xoxo
While I was walking around work, a man named Joe C wanted me to seat him. He was very intent on getting my attention. Every time I walked by it was the same smile and compliment. I'm sorry I'm not here to try and flirt with you in front of your family, thanks. Plus, your fuzzy rudolph sweater and adidas, neon-lined jogging pants do not sweeten the deal, if there ever was a deal to sweeten. At any rate, their name was finally ready to be called. One of the other hostesses who was originally assigned to call him, resisted, complaining how creepy he was. I sighed and decided to just do it for her. I went over, and the family jumped up for joy, quite literally. The infamous Joe C practically took me in his arms and bear hugged me. It was a tad awkward to say the least. As I showed them to their table he gave me a wink, which I returned with an uncomfortable, shaky smile. Later, upon passing the table, I get a, "Ey." I looked up to Joe C nodding at me. He again states, "Ey," with, "You," to clarify, followed by, "I like you, lady. I like you." Do men really think this is polite? Never mind polite, but even affective?
Another example of today: I was walking through the ever-so-crowded bar, just like every other host does two-hundred times a night. I was guiding a family to their table, stating the usual, "Pardon me." "Excuse me," as I walked by. Apparently, I brushed up behind some man in order to squeeze my party through, who then retorted, "Oh it's OK, baby. I like it." What? Really? Do you think that's going to get you a table faster, because it's not. Also, do you think I am going to respond in ANY other way besides a disgusted look as I quicken my pace away from you? Most women I know do NOT like being talked to like that. How these men have wives really puzzles me to no end. Were they just as sleezy when the whole dating process was going on, or did they go through a detox for six months before the wedding? Or were they just desperate? Or dare I say it...these women are in love...with them...somehow?
While we're on the subject of love, I want to elucidate that I do believe in it. I can be a romantic, with strong underlying tones of realism. Love is what makes this world go round, regardless what level we're talking about here. It could be a more generalized love towards all humanity or a passionate, intensified love for a significant other, or it could be smack dab in the middle, without a real rating in sight. I really couldn't care less what kind of love you visualize when the word is used. What I do care about, is its existence, in all forms. Don't get me wrong. There is evil. There is hate, but love as trite as it sounds, has, "The power to heal," and, "To open doors." Perhaps the reason these sayings are deemed trite pertains to the conclusion that they are true, and therefore shouldn't be disregarded so hastily.
At any rate, I believe in love and dating and all that jazz, but the words baby, honey, sweetheart, and darlin' should not be used unless you are my boyfriend or my gay boyfriend. That is it. (Well, family can use those terms too. I like it when my grandma calls me sweetheart.) As far as the touching goes, it comes along with trust. Your friends can lay a hand on your shoulder or hug the stuffing out of ya because they've earned your trust. If I don't know you, at all, then why do you feel the need to touch me? Of course the exception is when theatre is involved: auditions, rehearsals and performances.
And let's get one thing clear as crystal. I moved to the city for me. I did not move here to find love, to find fame, to have sex, or to discover glory. I came here to help shape myself. I want to be open. I want different ideas, different cultures, different styles, different books, different places, different experiences, different theatre, all stemming from different people, infiltrated into my life. If money comes along with that, so be it. If, from one of those people, love is created, either through passion or through friendship, that is absolutely wonderful. Nevertheless, I did not come here to find myself. I came here to create myself, and for me, I'm just starting to discover the difference.
xoxo
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A Day to be Truly Thankful For.
My Thanksgiving was different from any Thanksgiving past. I didn't actually get to see any family...at all. Instead, I was able to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade up close and personal, work (oh joy) and then jet to Long Island to share desserts and laughs with a friend.
My first thoughts of this upcoming Turkey Day were as follows: "This is gonna be the pits." I was completely bummed, dreading my scheduled work from 12-8pm. Since my shift was smack in the middle of the celebratory day, getting to my aunt's home on Long Island before work or after work would both be ungodly; no one would be around! I was sad, but I thought I'd be able to at least spend the day with friends from work, presuming my schedule would follow the same pattern. All of us crazies from the night shift would go to my friend Jen's place in BK for a brunch of sorts, where we'd share a tastey meal and then grudgingly head to work together. However, that expectation fell through when my schedule was changed. So here I was- planless for Thanksgiving.
It was then that I preceded to whine like an emo baby on my facebook's status, writing something along the lines of: "I just want to be with people I love on Thanksgiving." I actually received some comments of sentiment, and one invite from a New Paltz friend to come over her house in Nassau, no matter how late! I wasn't going to take her up on the offer, feeling I would be intruding on her family, but she insisted. I talked to my mom about it and she told me that my friend Angela was my Thanksgiving Angel ;) and I should go. So I did!
But before I get into that, I'm sure you want to hear about my parade experience. Well, I woke up early, dressed and packed for later, and then went to my work. I arrived a little before 9am. It was there that a police officer was going to escort me over to a section on 7th Avenue right outside the NYPD office. I felt so odd that I somehow had a connection of sorts in the city, but here I was, walking past barricades and onto 7th Ave. I could feel many eyes either grazing past me or sticking onto me as I followed the officer in the middle of the street. I tried to suppress a smile and compose a-nonchalant-like-appearance as hundreds of bundled faces watched me walk from behind their sidewalk limitations. I can't help but admit that I felt important, even though I was doing nothing of importance.
I then entered a section with several other people who must be friends or friends of friends or family of the NYPD. I felt totally out of place, but that feeling quickly subsided once the floats started coming down! I really had such a great view! I felt myself smiling sporadically throughout the entire parade. I could only describe it as the trite expression goes: I felt like a kid in a candy store. Everything was so close and so humungo! I even took some pictures of some stars (oo la la!) Here, I guess this is the point of the blog where I show you some of those snapshots! (I tried to condense them as best as I could...)
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| Opening of the parade! |
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| Tom the Turkey |
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| Snoopy! |
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| My favorite picture of the day. |
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| Blocks in sync. |
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| Miranda Cosgrove from the TV show iCarly. |
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| The United States Pizza Team. |
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| Who knew Macy's had their own cheerleaders? |
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| Spongebob was quite the kiddy crowd pleaser! |
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| Looks like "shady" dealings. |
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| OH NO! |
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| Big Time Rush...a band that's taken over Disney. They're all pretty enough... |
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| Kanye West showing off how truly unfriendly he is. This man sucks. |
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| My spidey senses are tingling. |
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| Gladys Knight all smily. |
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| Jessica Simpson...this coat is too tight and just NOT flattering! She has so much money...she couldn't find another coat? |
Alrighty! So the Parade was a big success and one of the most thrilling, heart-warming experiences I've ever had! It really was miraculous. I wanted to leave around 11:15 or so. In no way did I want to be late for my shift. However, I found a slight dilemma....how was I going to cross the street and get back to work?! I went up to a lady officer and told her my concerns. She then escorted me over to a Traffic Controller, and once there was a lull in the parade, he escorted me across to the street I needed. Amazing! I entered work in an ecstatic mood!
And as soon as work was over, I jetted over to Penn station, bought an Oreo cake that looked quite scrumptious and headed to Nassau County via LIRR! I was greeted by my friend Angela with many hugs and exclamations. I couldn't believe I was with her on Thanksgiving! I haven't seen her since the early summer time. We both graduated from New Paltz with our undgrad in 2010.
I entered their humble abode to a plate of all the Thanksgiving food heated up in the microwave! I felt so blessed and happy that I was able to enjoy the food one waits all year long for, while getting to catch up with Angela and her sister. It was a ton of laughs. Look for yourself!
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| A nice shot of Angela and I during our Apples to Apples game. |
Well, although my Thanksgiving was out of the norm, it truly was something to be thankful for.
Hope your Thanksgiving holiday was a special one too.
x0x0
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Kristen and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
Everyone has bad days- even terrible, horrible, no good ones. They creep up on us while we are caught off guard in our "happy-place." Here we are enjoying life like a giant bowl of candy, full of Snickers and Three Musketeers, and somehow we let a piece of black licorice enter our mouths and that just ruins the whole palate! And then, to our dismay, we realize we ate all the yummy chocolate bars and are left with the said detested licorise and un-chewable Milk Duds. So yesterday was my black-licorice-kind-of-day.
It started off ok enough. I didn't do aaaanything I needed to get done before work at noon, so that left me somewhat frazzled and distraught. However, the trains were working out in my favor and despite my late start I had five minutes to spare once getting to work! A plus. As the day went on, nothing of importance happened. I answered phones and let down the usual number of costumers looking for a reservation on Saturday, telling them the earliest we had available was truthfully 11:30PM. I even had a nice fifteen minute break that allowed me to have a zesty mouthful of chicken! Say yes to the protein! But alas, the day was about to make a rapid change for the worst.
It was about a half an hour before I was about to leave for work, when a server approached me, asking to call downstairs and find out if his table could have a different one; they didn't like being in the back. I made the call, and my friend in charge answered, telling me something to the affect of, "They're a freakin' walk in. They can go down to the bar and wait for another 10 -15 minutes if they don't like that table." So I turned to the server, thinking he would get a real kick out of it, especially since he is such a comical and sassy man. That was when I directly quoted her, word for word, "freakin'" and all. Of course, as soon as I said this, the server turned to three gentlemen that somehow crowded near unobserved by MOI and he rapidly apologized to them. He then basically rephrased what I said, but in kinder, more rhetorical terms. It wasn't until the server left with the gentlemen that the horror crept into my face and I realized, that yes, I practically said that to a customer, since they most definitely overheard me. Not only was I rude, but I quoted someone else whom I respect and admire, and the possibility of getting her in trouble made my heart beat like a rat's- like a fat, dirty, rat's. I felt like the biggest, stupidest loser on the planet! Stupidest, idiotic-ist, dumbest dumb...person.
The server apparently sat them right away at a different table to cease an upset and appease the gentleman whom I indirectly told off. Afterwards, he reprimanded me with intervals of laughter, saying things like: "You should have seen your face," and "Don't worry. I've done worse. Much worse." Maybe he had, but that still didn't make me feel any better. I didn't realize it was THAT table approximately two feet from my mouth until AFTER the server turned 60 degrees and spoke to their faces. Oh my GOSH this put me in a real distorted funk! I wanted to crawl in a hole and rot there.
Ok, so after that fiasco, I jet out of there at 8pm. As I'm walking, I realized I made a Dr's appointment for myself on Long Island, thinking I would be free today. But of course, I had work, so I missed and forgot about that appointment entirely! I had to call and apologize for, again, being a dumbass. Now I'm waiting for the subway, writing down all my obsessive thoughts of the last forty-five minutes. I feel like I have to. I'm consumed by them and will be ruled by them until I flesh them out on paper. By the time the subway came, I saw an available non-crowded row of orange seats and sat down to finish my writing. "It's wet," I hear a girl state next to me. I sit up, and the entire butt-area of my coat is covered in a sticky and sweet frappachino of sorts. I wanted to cry right then and there. Some woman in bizzaro large, black glasses hands me a crumpled kleenex that I accepted like it was The Body of Christ. I thank her, blinking back water from my mascara-ed lashes, as I wipe ferociously at my jacket.
As I finally arrive to my stop, I'm walking up the stairs and hear my text-message alarm ring. I look and see a friend of mine, whom I haven't seen in a long time, sent me a text. She's waiting for me near the movie theatre. I want to pound my head against the brick wall. You don't understand: take my head, and physically break the adjacent brick layers solely with the hardness of my cranium. How could I forget that we agreed on meeting each other in the village tonight? HOW!? I had to respond saying a plethora of sorries and "I somehow forgot's." All of these are true, but it doesn't make the situation less lame. I could tell through her one response that she wasn't happy with me. And what killed me even more was that I wasn't in the least bit happy with me either. I just felt incompetent and like a complete screw up.
By the time I arrived alone in my apartment, various upsetting events were swimming through my bloodstream. My shoulders felt permanently plastered by my ear lobes. My heart, lungs, biceps and gut were all being crowded into small boxes, making me feel uneasily tight and unable to escape. I was trapped in my own sorrow of unfortunate events. Of course it was then that I remembered I offered to cover someone on Christmas Eve, forcing me to do a double. I figured I might as well help someone else out for the holiday, since I wouldn't be able to see my family until late Christmas night, regardless. Now I was really in a state of ultimate HUM-BUG. It wasn't until I looked online at a bus schedule that I realized this evening could indeed get worse. I was planning on attending my brothers 2nd to last a cappella show since he's a senior in college. Even though I miraculously swapped my shift with the earliest one possible specifically to see my brother, I realized I still wouldn't make it in time. There was no way I could get to Albany by 6pm when I'd be let out at 4pm. That was the final straw that broke the camel's back. I let all the negative thoughts and actions of the day pile on my chest and crack my ribs one at a time with their weight.
It couldn't be delayed any longer. I had to call my momma. It was at that stage where everything seemed to be going wrong and all positives had dissipated.
Nevertheless all was actually resolved and my mood lightened after some time. I talked to zee mom, got a good hard cry out of the deal and felt like tomorrow would be a better day. It could only go up...right?
And today was better...
I did find out that my family would wait to celebrate Christmas with me until the 26th of December. I have off the 26th and the 27th in a row, so that way, my mom told me, "You won't miss Christmas. Besides, it wouldn't be Christmas without you." So at least I'll be "Home for Christmas," after all. I'm usually a big stickler for celebrating any holiday on the actual day, but I am extremely touched and relieved that my immediate family is allowing this to happen. It just wouldn't be Christmas without THEM.
So as they say, it can always be worse. And luckily, it hasn't gotten worse...(knock on wood.)
ONWARDS AND UPWARDS!
X0X0
It started off ok enough. I didn't do aaaanything I needed to get done before work at noon, so that left me somewhat frazzled and distraught. However, the trains were working out in my favor and despite my late start I had five minutes to spare once getting to work! A plus. As the day went on, nothing of importance happened. I answered phones and let down the usual number of costumers looking for a reservation on Saturday, telling them the earliest we had available was truthfully 11:30PM. I even had a nice fifteen minute break that allowed me to have a zesty mouthful of chicken! Say yes to the protein! But alas, the day was about to make a rapid change for the worst.
It was about a half an hour before I was about to leave for work, when a server approached me, asking to call downstairs and find out if his table could have a different one; they didn't like being in the back. I made the call, and my friend in charge answered, telling me something to the affect of, "They're a freakin' walk in. They can go down to the bar and wait for another 10 -15 minutes if they don't like that table." So I turned to the server, thinking he would get a real kick out of it, especially since he is such a comical and sassy man. That was when I directly quoted her, word for word, "freakin'" and all. Of course, as soon as I said this, the server turned to three gentlemen that somehow crowded near unobserved by MOI and he rapidly apologized to them. He then basically rephrased what I said, but in kinder, more rhetorical terms. It wasn't until the server left with the gentlemen that the horror crept into my face and I realized, that yes, I practically said that to a customer, since they most definitely overheard me. Not only was I rude, but I quoted someone else whom I respect and admire, and the possibility of getting her in trouble made my heart beat like a rat's- like a fat, dirty, rat's. I felt like the biggest, stupidest loser on the planet! Stupidest, idiotic-ist, dumbest dumb...person.
The server apparently sat them right away at a different table to cease an upset and appease the gentleman whom I indirectly told off. Afterwards, he reprimanded me with intervals of laughter, saying things like: "You should have seen your face," and "Don't worry. I've done worse. Much worse." Maybe he had, but that still didn't make me feel any better. I didn't realize it was THAT table approximately two feet from my mouth until AFTER the server turned 60 degrees and spoke to their faces. Oh my GOSH this put me in a real distorted funk! I wanted to crawl in a hole and rot there.
Ok, so after that fiasco, I jet out of there at 8pm. As I'm walking, I realized I made a Dr's appointment for myself on Long Island, thinking I would be free today. But of course, I had work, so I missed and forgot about that appointment entirely! I had to call and apologize for, again, being a dumbass. Now I'm waiting for the subway, writing down all my obsessive thoughts of the last forty-five minutes. I feel like I have to. I'm consumed by them and will be ruled by them until I flesh them out on paper. By the time the subway came, I saw an available non-crowded row of orange seats and sat down to finish my writing. "It's wet," I hear a girl state next to me. I sit up, and the entire butt-area of my coat is covered in a sticky and sweet frappachino of sorts. I wanted to cry right then and there. Some woman in bizzaro large, black glasses hands me a crumpled kleenex that I accepted like it was The Body of Christ. I thank her, blinking back water from my mascara-ed lashes, as I wipe ferociously at my jacket.
As I finally arrive to my stop, I'm walking up the stairs and hear my text-message alarm ring. I look and see a friend of mine, whom I haven't seen in a long time, sent me a text. She's waiting for me near the movie theatre. I want to pound my head against the brick wall. You don't understand: take my head, and physically break the adjacent brick layers solely with the hardness of my cranium. How could I forget that we agreed on meeting each other in the village tonight? HOW!? I had to respond saying a plethora of sorries and "I somehow forgot's." All of these are true, but it doesn't make the situation less lame. I could tell through her one response that she wasn't happy with me. And what killed me even more was that I wasn't in the least bit happy with me either. I just felt incompetent and like a complete screw up.
By the time I arrived alone in my apartment, various upsetting events were swimming through my bloodstream. My shoulders felt permanently plastered by my ear lobes. My heart, lungs, biceps and gut were all being crowded into small boxes, making me feel uneasily tight and unable to escape. I was trapped in my own sorrow of unfortunate events. Of course it was then that I remembered I offered to cover someone on Christmas Eve, forcing me to do a double. I figured I might as well help someone else out for the holiday, since I wouldn't be able to see my family until late Christmas night, regardless. Now I was really in a state of ultimate HUM-BUG. It wasn't until I looked online at a bus schedule that I realized this evening could indeed get worse. I was planning on attending my brothers 2nd to last a cappella show since he's a senior in college. Even though I miraculously swapped my shift with the earliest one possible specifically to see my brother, I realized I still wouldn't make it in time. There was no way I could get to Albany by 6pm when I'd be let out at 4pm. That was the final straw that broke the camel's back. I let all the negative thoughts and actions of the day pile on my chest and crack my ribs one at a time with their weight.
It couldn't be delayed any longer. I had to call my momma. It was at that stage where everything seemed to be going wrong and all positives had dissipated.
Nevertheless all was actually resolved and my mood lightened after some time. I talked to zee mom, got a good hard cry out of the deal and felt like tomorrow would be a better day. It could only go up...right?
And today was better...
I did find out that my family would wait to celebrate Christmas with me until the 26th of December. I have off the 26th and the 27th in a row, so that way, my mom told me, "You won't miss Christmas. Besides, it wouldn't be Christmas without you." So at least I'll be "Home for Christmas," after all. I'm usually a big stickler for celebrating any holiday on the actual day, but I am extremely touched and relieved that my immediate family is allowing this to happen. It just wouldn't be Christmas without THEM.
So as they say, it can always be worse. And luckily, it hasn't gotten worse...(knock on wood.)
ONWARDS AND UPWARDS!
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