Overdrawn...

When I first went out on my own, I really had no clue how to take care of my own expenses. I was not yet 18 the first time I got my own apartment with a room mate and then 19 when I got my own apartment by myself. It was overwhelming. I had bills to pay, a full time job and a car to take care of. It felt wonderful to have no one to answer to, but in return I had a ton of stress at a very early age. I remember the first time I went to check my bank account and saw a very mean, red negative number staring at me. I think my heart stopped....

I hadn't been paying attention to what I was taking away from my account versus what I had to spend. I called my Mom...who rescued me, but it's still something that stands out in my mind 6 years later. I got used to using my check register and checking my account balance frequently. I got used to pulling out cash versus using my ATM card constantly. But even though I've rarely overdrawn my account since, I'm still VERY good at giving out what I don't have to give.

Figuratively speaking, of course...

I've done it a few times before...let the rush of something new kind of make me forget where I am. Forget that I'm not as sensible as I'd like to believe and that I have a wonderfully inconvenient habit of completely ignoring signs I don't want to pay attention to. Like the light on my gas tank level gage. The blinking battery on my cell phone. The tight pull of frustration I felt while trying desperately to make my relationship with D work. Then I look up and I realize that I've completely overdrawn myself. Extended my abilities beyond what I should have...

I try to find a balance between being like the jaded, emotionally withdrawn ass holes that I try to avoid in my own life and being that mindless fool that runs out into traffic getting hit and then wondering why. If you invest too much into some idiotic idea, you tend to end up the idiot...and you tend to end up alone. I'm actually considering becoming that closed person who keeps people at bay. Steers clear of any kind of commitment, measures people only by their driest potential...their ability to provide a mutually satisfying outcome...rather than by their ability to make my heart jump for joy.

This barely makes any sense to me, so I'm assuming it won't to anyone else either. Especially since I'm not being specific about what exactly I'm talking about....

Let's just say I've gotten to a point where I can't afford overdraft fees.

Confession of an Urban Nomad....

When I was a kid and there wasn't much to smile about, I tended to find relief in my own imagination. I suppose it's what contributed to me wanting to write. If I had a pen and a paper, then I could create my own reality. I could be anyone, and anywhere and whatever I felt was the ultimate dream could be my truth for that moment.

Now, since then, I've learned to curve my imagination. I learned that living in your own head can really end up hurting the reality you have to actually live in. Like seeing the perfect life with someone and later realizing that you actually over looked a few hundred details because those details weren't pretty enough to fit into your ideal.

Right now, with my imagination slightly stuffed into my pocket, I am wondering where all of this is going. I'm thinking about my future and realizing that I'm actually in a pretty awesome position. I have no ties. To anything, anyone or anywhere. I'm totally perceptive to what might happen and totally willing to follow a new path. I think I used to feel imprisoned by freedom and freedom in prison. I was comforted by limited options, because that meant decisions where made for me. But over the last few years, I've slowly come to the conclusion that I'm just not one of those people. I don't need permanence right now, and I don't even really want it. I want to continue getting my life together; school, money all the things your supposed to get together when your in your twenties. But I also want to see where this whole thing is taking me. I want to see the world, and live there and take it in and absorb whatever strangeness I find. As long as there is a voice in the back of my head saying, "Maybe there is something else..." I'm going to allow myself to follow it. I know that sounds kind of movie-of-the week (cue Greatest American Hero theme song, "Believe it or Not"...), but that is a definite truth.

I will, however, say it's nice to have an equally nomadic friend...

John & Kate Plus 8...PLEASE STOP THE MADNESS

OK, so I'm not a TV person at all, really. I find it pretty silly to sit down and watch the latest TV obsessions which are ONLY designed so that you can sit through 10 to 20 minutes of advertising. If the show is that hot, I'll catch it on DVD...

But for the last few months, the magazines I grab for while waiting in line at the grocery store or waiting for a flight have been focused on John and Kate and their divorce.

Question....who the fuck are these people???

Another question....who does this woman's hair, it looks like she's wearing a blond tarantula..

Third question....WHO THE FUCK ARE THESE PEOPLE???


It's annoying enough when has-been actors and singers get a reality show. Although, at least then you can see how the other half lives. But when some dorky ass interracial couple who over did it on the fertility drugs invades magazine headlines and news because they are (gasp) getting a divorce??!! Now I'm just ashamed to be American.

But today takes the cake. I wanted to check out some of the pictures from the tributes done for Michael Jackson at the BET awards. A show I never tune in for, but don't mind checking out the...uhhh...fashion(?) and today seeing how the black folks honored King MJ over the weekend. However, I couldn't help but notice before I clicked on the hilarious picture of Beyonce dressed as a bride that in the corner underneath the latest Jackson news was this headline "INSIDE STORY: Gosselin Divorce Papers Explained"...

The strangest thing I find about this John & Kate headline (if you can even see it) is the caption underneath it: "WHAT DO YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE COUPLES DIVORCE FILINGS- AND WHAT TO IGNORE".

You can't make this stuff up.

Not that I'm taking the side of anyone who exploits their lives and the lives of their kids for "fame" and fortune, but seriously....WHY do people need to know ANYTHING about someone else divorce? How does this impact the lives of anyone outside of their family? What moron is actually clicking on this link and reading up on the bullet points relating to these two people's personal lives?? If you are in any way invested emotionally in the lives of John & Kate...go get a knife and end it, cause you have nothing else to live for.

Seriously...END IT.

The Ultimate Vegetarian Nachos...

I told Oz today while balancing my cell between my face and shoulder, and grabbing bags of supplies from the front seat of the car, that I had woke up this morning thinking about making some awesome vegetarian nachos.

"You must be an empty-headed person..." he said.

Touche.

The reality of it is I woke up this morning with SO MUCH more than just making nachos on my mind. Between my family, school, work, moving, D, my friends, my money, my writing and the intense pain I've had in my back for weeks now, I was completely drowning in thought. The sun was blazing through my window but the air had been on all night and the temperature was perfect. My bed felt inviting and soft and it tempted me to sleep in even later than I already had (11:30 am). Instead, I decided to push all those nasty "grown up" thoughts out of my head, wake the hell up and just make some awesome nachos.

The problem is whenever you get nachos your left at the mercy of the venue. Limited to their ideals and preference. Some people consider nachos to be some crusty tortilla chips smothered in melted American cheese (you'll find this strain mostly in bowling alleys and ballparks). Some places make awesome nachos....cheese, jalapenos, guacamole...the works. However in my experience, the people who make the best nachos usually top it all of with chicken, pig or cow. Three things I don't consume. So today instead of sitting and write angrily in my journal about the desperation I feel inside or the admission I made last night which I swore I'd never tell anyone or the fact that I have to move (again) although it's dreaded and sometimes feels like a bad decision; I simply made nachos. I made them with a big goofy smile on my face. And I made them with soy beef.

They were so delicious that D, who had already eaten decided to help me finish them off. They were so good, that I forgot to snap a picture of them before they were completely devoured.

Mmmmm....denial tastes like happiness.

So I Came Home Late Last Night...

I tried my damnedest to get home by the agreed-upon 2:30am... Some may call this a curfew, I call it an AGREED UPON time to be home respectively. Regardless of the verbal spin...I tried to adhere to it....(well I needed some convincing, but I digress..).

So I'm laying on my bed halfway out of my clothes, one foot over the edge one foot propped up on my comforter occasionally glaring at the clock....it was 2:50 AM and D wasn't home yet. Now, I'm caught halfway between angry and worried. A) Because D is very rarely late to anything.... B) Because don't give me an agreed upon time to be home respectively and then fuck it off. So I wait...catching myself as my eyes are forcing themselves closed.

Next thing I know, D shows up in his plaid shirt (a purchase I totally influenced) worn-in jeans and one of his millions of pairs of shoes in his hands.

"Hey Boogs..."

"You know I can now come home whenever I feel like it right?" I say, bypassing a greeting altogether.

He smirks, and kind of stares at me. Drunk, much? Of course I don't CARE that he's been out later than me. I just don't want to be the only one rushing home for no good reason. However I was curious as to what kept him out so late....perhaps something I could use to display an example of encouragement and support...then he wouldn't feel so obliged to keep me on this agreed-upon time to be home respectively.

Some party...blah blah...with his friends..who cares...Rosemary...ERRRR???

I let a wide smile spread across my face. I mean as long as D and I have the strangest most WHACKED out situation of all time in our hands, why not make it even more awkward and tease him about running into some girl he knows while he was out.

"Did you get her number..?"

"I always had her number.." (fuck you too)

"Well I imagine you didn't do very well, since you suck at flirting.."

This is the new-age friendly banter that has evolved out of our broken relationship between the walls of our broken home.

When I woke up this morning he was laying on my bed snoring like an injured whale. My mom called, "Did you just wake up? Are you alone?" (a question she started asking me after I turned 20 and realized I had frequent male visitors.

"No, I'm not alone...but it's just D."

Said with love, satisfaction and emotional distance.

The divorce is final.

Yesterday Just SUCKED In General...

June 25th...boy what a fuck up. First there are protesters downstairs at work...which honestly was probably the weakest display of protest I've seen in my life...(where were the bull horns, chants, marching....??) Still it was a reminder of how corrupt Iran's government was and my heart went out to everyone standing down there in the heat trying to make a statement that no one really wanted to hear.

Then Farrah Fawcett died. Although it was expected, what with her loosing battle to cancer, it was still a shock. So beautiful and such an iconic figure in American pop culture. Sad when someone so influential dies, especially before their time. Of course that wasn't even the tip of yesterday's ice burg...

Then Michael Jackson died. The King of Pop...Mr. Invincible...gone. Just like that. No warning, no final statement, no goodbye to his family, friends, children and loyal fans. Gone as quick as he came. What a shock. Most people I know still haven't processed it. I still can't listen to his music without crying. Such a talent, such an awesome human being. It's like loosing Princess Diana, Aalliyah, Tupac and MLK Jr....their sudden absence from the world as shocking as the huge affect it had on the people who admired them.

Later, my friend, Oz was flying home from Denver when the pilot announced there were several things wrong with the plane. MID FLIGHT.... This is not something you wish to hear when your 34,000 feet off the ground. They made an emergency landing in Oklahoma City. He tells me this nonchalantly while waiting at the gate, as if it were a story about loosing his house keys. "I would have flipped out." I told him. Which is an understatement. I imagine I would have probably passed out. I almost passed out on my flight to NYC earlier this month when the wings started making noise before we took off then flew through 3 hours of turbulence into a city that just announced they were having a problem controlling their bird population.

My evening was then topped off by a huge diss from D, which I won't even go into. But it was the perfect night cap to a nightmare day. Now I'm at work feeling solemn for several reasons. Sporting my big gold microphone earrings as my small tribute to Michael, trying to figure out a way to completely avoid D until Sunday.

She Wanted Him to Love Her...

At the end of the day, even though I'm totally fine with myself and my life and the choices I've decided to make recently; I can't help but be a little sad.

Sometimes I crack jokes about it, or talk about it nonchalantly, but the fact remains, I don't think it's entirely fair that I came all this way for love, with the fire of passion and devotion on my heels and was greeted by a luke-warm version of the person who told me I should come. I'm not into mincing words tonight. It's late and my music idol died today...I'm pissed that D is just a jack ass.

Every ounce of emotion that I craved so much from him felt like squeezing juice from a rock. Trying to wiggle my way inside and understand his inner workings. After 4 years...I still have no idea.

Every time, even now, that I reach out in some profound way....I snatch back a nub. What's so wrong with loosing yourself in love? What are people so afraid of that they chose to over think something as organic as LOVE?

I know it's a tad tasteless to be this specific about the details of my personal relationship on a blog that gets read by total strangers. But it doesn't matter...because the person it's about has never found it necessary to read any of this.

I guess this is my 'Waiting to Exhale' moment...the one I should have had months ago when we broke up. Instead I'm having it now. It's taking all of my power not to get up from this chair, walk down the hall and put a pillow over D's gaping mouth and suffocate him the way he's suffocated me.

Fuck this place and everything in it.

Inventor of the Featherd Bang...R.I.P.

And lest we forget the other legend that passed today...
Farrah Fawcett..

February 2nd, 1947-June 25th, 2009

The hair was banging.

The King is Gone

As soon as I got in the car with D, he asked me if I'd heard the news.

"Did you hear about Michael?" He said. Funny..I didn't even need to ask 'Michael who?' ...I automatically assumed he meant THE Michael.

"He died.." He said.

"Fuck you" I replied.

Ever since I was old enough to spit, Michael Jackson has been a part of my life. My father was totally obsessed...my mother was only slightly obsessed. I remember waking up on Saturday mornings to the tune of, "...Do you rememba...AH!...when we...fell in love.."

The hoards of people who grew up with him since he was a little kid, through his trials in the public eye and scrutiny he endured as the biggest legend and running joke all seems to boil down to one simple thing. No one has impacted music so intensely as Michael Jackson did.

I know soon, his face will suddenly be on t-shirts and his image splashed across every magazine racing for the highest sales. He'll become frozen in time, forever iconic. My kids will probably watch the 3 hour epic movie about his life and times, and ask me if I remember him. I'm not even ashamed to say I cried a bit when I heard. He was a part of my childhood. For every occasion...there is a Michael Jackson song...

Even though he never got even close to as much respect form the world as he should have, at least he's leaving behind one hell of a legacy. He'll forever be the King of Pop.

Michael Joseph Jackson
August 29th, 1958-June 25th, 2009
"The foremost art of Kings is to endure hatred" -Seneca

This is Happening in Front of My Job...

I work in the same building as the Russian Consulate..so there are like a few hundred people outside protesting. The Russians support the Iran election, and since the election is believed to be corrupted, the protesters are here to show their anger. They are peaceful and they are 100% right to be angry.

If I had a few hundred Popsicles I'd take them down to them...cause it's like MAD HOT today...

Randomness: Harsher Punishment for Over Eating...

I was chatting with my big sister tonight and as usual our two hour conversation which started out profound, ended in silliness, uncontrollable giggling and extreme immaturity. We covered everything from the DEEP and WONDROUS concepts of spirituality and the existence of God to what to say when people sneeze... Love my sis.

So basically this is what should come to pass...

There is all this buzz in the world, mainly America, about how huge everyone is. The kids are ballooning up worse than Violet in the Willy Wonka movie, and everyone blames McDonald's for their slow but steady demise. Well, with all that is being invented everyday....with the millions of hoards of people who sit around and think of new UNNECESSARY but addictive applications to download onto your Blackberry or iPhone...there should at least be a final and absolute solution to the problem of obesity. But there isn't.

Obesity is the leading killer of Americans. This tiny little concept of feeding yourself has become deadly, all because most people ignore that voice inside their heads that's screaming, "Put down the fork!" Screaming with vigor and desperation....

If only that voice were not so subtle...if only that voice instead were a harsh physical push...like falling from grace after sipping on too many cocktails, as everything listlessly fades to black.

My sister and I discussed the concept of a harsher consequence to over eating. Like if you were out to eat with your friends; people you have no shame in front of and can eat to your fill instead of delicately pushing your food around while trying to keep your lip gloss in tact. Say you ordered baked ziti and a big slice of tirimisu. However instead of that casual thought that creeps into your mind between sips of wine and table banter that tells you to push the plate away...you slowly start to loose consciousness. Things get blurry, hot and you suddenly feel like your swaying from side to side. So you ask, "Am I swaying from side to side?" and your friends look at you with squinted eyes...

"No.." they say. Still, everything goes blurry.

I mean why should this "feeling" of fullness be a feeling...why not have an immediate consequence like suddenly passing out and waking up days later..with your family standing over you, hands clasped, biting their lips as you finally blink your eyes and come to.

"You've been out for three days...you should have put down the baked ziti..." they say.

I imagine that if this were the consequence to over eating instead of just a painfully full stomach or a case of the "Itis"...people would be less inclined to Super Size their fries or order 2000 calorie meals. People would think twice about what they eat, the same way most people think twice about what they drink on a Wednesday night...."I should stop now, I have work in the morning..."

Everything is simplified these days....I can easily transfer funds, update my Twitter status, email my mother and call in sick to work all with a few clicks of my phone...but when it comes to people watching what they eat..oh that's a big guessing game. A huge struggle.

This randomness has been brought to you by the large glass of Cranberry vodka I've been sipping (I have work in the morning...) and the silliness introduced by a very long phone call with my big sis.

Thanks for "listening"....

Miles, Me and a Bath Full of Gratitude

Done with homework...waiting for the bathtub to fill up so I can soak my sore back. I feel like an old lady. I also feel totally self involved. I can only think about my own problems right now. Meanwhile there are a million things going on that are so much more important. I got an email this morning from Team Darfur about how the rain season is going to effect Darfur. Washing out their roads and keeping the people there away from much needed assistance....food..medical supplies. My biggest problem this week is that I have to wait till pay day to buy my over priced moisturizer...

I think I'm done wallowing in my own self pity. Monday blues are over. Tomorrow I'm getting a grande triple latte and wearing my most girlie dress and heels to work. Done feeling sorry, too much to be thankful for.

Happy bath-time....

Monday Gives Me Shingles

I'm basically speechless, or whatever the equivalent of "speechless" is in relation to not knowing what to write. Wordless, blog-content-less...

If my life were a fruit right now, it would be a watermelon. With awkward seeds to spit out and that inconsistent grainy taste.

Between a Rock and Hard Place

So it's Wednesday and yes, I'm back in Houston. For now. The sun is beating down on me as if it has some kind of vendetta, and again...the silence is killing me. My first day back in NY I walked around Manhattan near 34th street where my old job was. I wanted to smack myself for getting down there so late, too late to go up and say hi to anyone. But I went into the stores and into my old Starbucks. My favorite Batista wasn't there, but it still felt good to ask for my "grande triple soy latte". The noise, the cabby that screamed at me because Atlantic avenue was closed (and apparently this was my fault).

The drunk guys at Toastie's who kept asking to bum one of my American Spirits (yes I smoke occasionally in NY...fuck off), the women in their awesome outfits, the metro-sexual men with gorgeous accents and leather scuffed boots leaning casually against train poles reading books no one has ever heard of. The drop dead gorgeous Black British man sitting across from me on the Q who asked me about the tattoo on my foot then showed me his (boy did he). Then he pulled back his dirty bandanna revealing a head of lustrous brown hair that fell around his shoulders. I would have thrown my vagina at him, if not for his next comment, "I just got done doing my community service..." I didn't hear the rest...I decided not to involve myself with one of Riker Island's newest "graduates".

The trip was fabulous, the shopping divine, but more than anything, I was swimming in my own peace of mind. Waking up with the city at my fingertips, being around millions of people who generally take life in stride. People who don't have to "live for the weekend", people who take pride in taking pride. So it was definitely a vacation in every sense of the word.

Now that I'm back it feels like I've been sucking on a sugar cube for 6 days and now have to eat an onion. Not that it's awful here, but it just made me realize how much of myself is...not here. When I got in on Monday I looked around the house. Pictures had been moved, the couch was scooted closer to the TV. Things that represented D's lifestyle. Minor, I know, but when your walking into a house that is not yours, in a neighborhood that has no personality in a city that you have nothing in common with...little things like that tend to make you grip your arms, rub the back of your neck and submit yourself to tears. I was just thankful to be alone at the moment.

Neither Here Nor There (Sunday's Reflections...

What do you do when you have no idea, anymore, of where you belong? Not just mentally, but physically...geographically. How do you figure that out? Keep searching? Go back to the beginning? Give in?

I know that's an intense idea. A little deep for a Sunday. Or maybe not. This is the day of reflection, no? Everyone does their unwindings on Sunday, so I did a few. I guess when I really think about it, I don't know much about where I belong. The only insight I have is that I know where I don't belong. I don't belong somewhere quiet. I don't belong somewhere apprehensive or passive. I don't belong anywhere that bares more clouds than sun. Take that how you will.

I miss my family. I will admit to that. There has been something pulling at me to go back.