Nothing, Nevermind.

I know I can be pretty vague when it comes to blog posts...usually it's because I'm trying to spare some one's (or several people's) feelings... But the question as of late seems to be "Are you going to NYC?"

New York was never a question. Ever since my room mate from hell conjured up the idea of leaving my California life behind and starting anew in the big city...New York has become a part of my salvation. Almost like a safety blanket. When I left CA, I was also running away from D...the man I could never understand...and who could never really understand me. Then New York became the thing that took me from my family and this man I gave up on too fast. I returned to him...but somewhere along the way realized that I had left out of fear. Fear of loosing him, fear of taking on more than I could handle...fear of being broke. I looked around Houston and it hit me like a ton of bricks... "Hell no.." it said, "wrong city, bitch."

So I made my plans of escape. Back to New York...back to my BFF...back to Brooklyn and crazy weather and incredible nights out and snow boots and subways. I had absolutely nothing distracting me as I piled my things onto a truck and moved into my temporary apartment in Houston. All I had to do was wait it out.

Nothing is ever that simple. Between falling back in love with my ex (Valentine- who lives in California), recently loosing my Grams and missing the crap out of my family...suddenly I wondered if New York was the right choice after all. Career-wise it was the smartest move I could pull. But what about my heart? Asking Valentine to come with me seemed like the best thing to do. But what if he doesn't go? As he teeters on the edge of yes or no...I'm stuck in limbo. Do I put New York on hold and soak up family and love...possibly (and finally) having my own little world with someone who really understands me? Or do I stay the nomadic girl I've always seemed to be...shrugging off my feelings and keeping my tires pointed East?

It's because of this dilemma that I say "Meh" when people ask me when or where I'm moving. It's because of this that once again I feel like an old CD that keeps skipping right before the outro. I'm torn between love of self and love of others. Between needing this man in my life and needing to stick to my plan... Either way I'm leaving Houston in 28 days.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

So Long, Farewell

It was a nice (and kind of adorable) little run we had.

But now it's over.

I've calculated in my mind that I've broken up with 27 men in the last 13 years of my dating life. Sometimes they're the ones who pull the plug, sometimes I am. I think either way it's usually me doing it somehow.

Most recently, it was someone I actually had a lot of fun with. Someone I thought I had enough in common with to actually be intrigued on a pretty constant basis. He made the break up with D seem less like a terrorist attack on my heart and more like life just slowly changing. He wasn't a rebound, just a good guy.

But that's all behind us now, and we decided to end it last night. Which is fine. It was going to end anyway come January. I already started to get used to that one. In a way it was silly of us to indulge in the whole thing as long as we did. But this sort of thing has a way of just making sense until it doesn't anymore.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

4 Gentlemen & A Lady

It's quite possible, that I am more single now than I have ever been. It feels like there is no one, not even anyone who is just genuinely my friend within a 2,000 mile radius. Ironically...my ex-boyfriend is moving to Houston next week. Oz and I have grown a bit distant but are still friends, D and I have settled into ex-friendship (a hybrid of rebounding with your ex on a platonic level), and someone I've known nearly a decade (which feels like my entire life), whom I never really dated but have always thought the world of is coming to town next week as well. In a sense...I will be a totally single woman surrounded by 4 ex's starting next week. FOUR.

Does that seem fair?

I relayed this fact to my sister over the phone the other day and for a second she wreaked of jealousy. She, who is happily married to my brother (in-law) whom everyone adores, and who adores her to no end. The two of them are in the "process" of attempting procreation and embarking on the next glorious phase of life where you start to truly become an adult for the sake of a new little life. As she envied me, I was envying her in return.

Of course, I'm more than aware that I'm in no position to have what she has. For the most obvious reason, which is that I have absolutely no permanent prospects. Not that I want any, but I can allow my mind to wander on the subject a bit....at least for the purpose of this blog post.

It's not a secret that I'm in the very least NEARING that part of my life. After all I was perfectly prepared to marry D, have his children and start a real life with him. If it weren't for the un-ignorable components of our relationship that were tragically missing, we would probably be planning a wedding right now. I was ready... just not ready to settle and make someone else settle for something that wasn't right. I refuse to commit to someone that I have to squint at in order to see them as perfect and who does the same of me. Smearing all the jagged lines, and pretending a blurry version of each other is good enough. No thank you. I'm not looking for perfection, but I would like perfection's half brother. Distant cousin, perhaps.

So from time to time, and as the "Engaged" announcements continue to fill up my Facebook page, I do feel that pang in the depths of my stomach. It reminds me that I'm at a very exciting place in my life. I'm single. Single in that REALLY single way. Where I am not obligated to anyone or anything but myself. On the other hand, I know I CAN be in a relationship. I'm capable of being with one person, if he's the right one, and making something work and possibly building up to what me and D almost had and beyond what it should have been.

In the mean time, I kind of get to just be me again. Sure, these last few months in Houston will be kind of a bore. But once I get back to New York, I'll have school to look forward to. Setting up the new website with Tia, partying and meeting new people, writing, kissing the air in Brooklyn and whatever else might come my way. I'm looking forward to FINALLY, after a long time of holding my feet in the air...planting some roots that I might want to share with someone one day.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

This Is It

Last night after coming home from work, I changed quickly into my favorite jeans, patchwork faux python sandals and my favorite purple sweater and waited for D to pick me up. We were on our way to go see This Is It , the proclaimed last performance of Michael Jackson. I had my doubts, assuming it would be nothing more than cheaply done, rushed footage of things Michael probably didn't even want anyone to see. But our mood was pretty light as we caught up with each other's lives in the car on the way over, found a parking spot and headed into the theater.

I'll admit that I wasn't overly surprised that the theater was only two-thirds full, and that some woman with a bad weave job fell asleep half way through the movie, making me feel really bad for her poor date who brought the most boring woman in the world to dinner theater. I have been to maybe 10 or so clubs in Houston, 5 or 6 lounges and countless movies....there never really is a crowed in very many places from what I've seen.

The beginning of the movie was Micheal's dancers talking into the camera about how grateful they were to have the opportunity to work with Jackson. I could tell it was filmed after he died, because most of them couldn't hold it together enough to finish their sentences and it was also very delicately scripted. My expectations for the movie suddenly fell towards the floor.

But then Micheal got on stage. I never realized how extensive rehearsal was for live concerts. Micheal was singing in his flawlessly vibrato voice, and dancing across the stage as if his shoes were dipped in oil. 50 years old, months away from his final breath and he was just a kid again putting on a show.

Going to see this movie, you have to take it for what it is; a marketing scheme. Jackson left a large amount of debt, and in that way I wonder if he'd even be upset about the footage being put in theaters. After all, I'm sure he didn't want to leave his family with that much debt. But aside from all that, the movie is also a tribute to his fans. Its proof that Micheal lit up when he was on stage, that he was a big kid at heart, that he loved nature and the world and that music meant everything to him. He knew every beat of every song, every chord, every rip, every note. He seemed to be taken back to his childhood when he performed a few Jackson 5 numbers, loosing his voice suddenly and looking as if he could barely make it through the song. But he knew every step of the dances and performed them as if his legs were on strings and his body was transported to the hay-day of his childhood career.

Bottom line, don't see this movie if you don't want to support the exploitation of Micheal's fame in order to pay off his enormous debt. But...see this movie if you just want to walk away from Micheal Jackson's legacy knowing that he was in fact an entertainer and, still could wipe the floor with any of the so-called "pop stars" of today.

Good for him.




(©2009 Lotus B.)

The Most Awkward Conversation in the World

A few days ago D and I made it official.

That's right folks, after much deliberation we are in fact totally and 100% EX's.

What made our "divorce" official?

That awkward conversation you have with someone you recently broke up with where there is more than just a hint passed between the two of you that you have both definitely slept with other people since the separation.

And it's OK!

I mean hey....he's perfectly entitled.  As am I.

I mean...heh...that's what BREAKIN up is about, right?

Sewing the, uh..wild oats an' shit.

Good for him.

Good for me.

Boy..... this feels GREAAT.



(©2009 Lotus B.)

Theory of Evolution

I know that if I step back from the canvas and take in the entire scope of the story, I am only at the beginning. There is so much that is hard to see right now. I know that "this too shall pass" and before I know it I'll be painting the walls of my new apartment in Brooklyn, and taking bitter cold walks to Tia's house for wine and chit chat like before. I know I'll look back on this and think of how grateful I am that I was such a hanger-on-er. But right now, for this moment and for the few days immediately surrounding me, I am miserable. From the cockroach invasions to some of the country-ass social retards I deal with at work, to the bittersweet awfulness of living so close to Desman and so far from my family. It's times like these a girl like me needs to make a few simple lists:

Things That Make Me Miserable:

1. The girl at work who thinks I'm an idiot and doesn't realize I'm just more polite than she.
2. When D acts like we're strangers.
3. The fact that we actually ARE strangers.
4. My hair…I never should have straightened it.
5. Those disgusting cockroaches that crawl around all over the fucking place.
6. How being "different" isn't considered a commodity here (in this city).
7. The girl at work who is painfully afflicted with diarrhea of the mouth (different girl).
8. Hurricane Season.
9. Not having a car or access to a convenient transportation system anymore.
10. Weather that feels like living inside a whore's vagina.  

Things That I'm Grateful For:

1. The ability to write about any and everything that is on my mind (publically or privately).
2. An amazing best friend who keeps me sane.
3. An apartment in Brooklyn that is mine for the taking. 
4. A pretty face. 
5. A mother who (and I've checked into this) is the BEST kind of mother to have. 
6. The learned ability to give things a try before I dismiss them. 
7. My blackberry. 
8. A place to rest my head, cook my meals and read my books. 
9. Ossie's return home this Sunday. 
10. My guts…which will allow me the nerve to chop my hair off again (coming soon!). 
11. A job that pays me well enough to live, save, and occasionally enjoy myself. 
12. A detachment with the shitty worldly things that turn people into animals. 
13. My confidence in my personal belief system; there is a God and she is everywhere. 
14. Vegetarianism; we live longer and apparently taste better… 
15. The 50% off coupon I got in the mail for Adam & Eve dot com…. (Google it if you don't know). 
16. The left over Chinese take out I plan on murdering when I get home today…Lo Mein is my boyfriend. 

So I guess, as long as my list of crummy shit is shorter than my list of fab shit, I'll be ok. True, at this moment…I kind of half want to quit my job and run out into the street screaming "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!"….but I also half want to close my eyes for a second and tell myself how strong I am and tell myself I've been through worse and hope that my mother is right about all this; that all the miserable crap is really just to shape us into better people.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

How to Boil Water

D and I never had a mountain of things in common. The bulk of it centered on entertainment. We both liked dancing our asses off at Luca's, a lounge/club in downtown Oakland. We both liked eating new types of food. We both liked to shop, and we both liked The Office. For some reason that crazy little hour long NBC show brought us together every week, even in the midst of trouble.

When we broke up the first time and I moved to Brooklyn, we both stopped watching. Maybe he stopped because the introduction music reminded him of my "Office Dance". Maybe I stopped watching because I missed his overly-boisterous laugh that tromboned out causing us to miss major plot points. Things fall apart.

So we ended up being about a season and a half behind, and mutually decided this month to rectify that with a running Office marathon (via Netflix). Season 4, disc one came yesterday.

D picked me up after I'd had time to come home from work and change. For a while everything felt normal. Everything felt untouched and aside from his new car, nothing seemed different at all.

"You hungry?" he said.

"I could eat."

"Thai Cottage?"

"Hell yea."

Without words we both already knew what the other wanted to order (tofu chili basil for me, spicy wings of paradise for him). We started towards Pearland and as I saw the traffic speckled horizon my stomach began to drop. Oh yea I thought, we're going to our house...his house...The House.

The house where truth was rudely shown down on every single existing flaw in our relationship like over head lighting on a room full of trannies. The house I left incomplete and half empty while our nosey neighbors watched...surely whispering to one another.

"I should tell you right now," he mumbled, "The grass looks like shit."

I laughed.

I can only say that walking back into that house after 2 months felt like walking through an old neighborhood. I felt the same way when my mother and I went back to 68th avenue in East Oakland to the house both of us grew up in and realized someone else now lived there. I looked around and saw the small touches he had added, the gross addition of bottles of alcohol at the bar in the dining room, his collection of vintage 70's TV show and movie posters he'd hung in the game room and of course he had inched the red leather sofa we'd picked out together closer to his plasma TV. I hated when he'd done that before. "This room doesn't have to center around the dummy box, ya know." I'd say. He'd nod.

We watched a few episodes of the Office, although I didn't do my Office Dance. He still laughed boisterously and I still forced him to rewind it and "shhhh, so we can hear." Some things were very much the same.

Still, I can't help but feel nostalgic and a little left out, as I'm sure he does every time he notices small changes in my life take place without him. It very much felt like a pot of water I'd walked away from and revisited to finally find a few tiny bubbles making their way to the top.

A Giant Cock...

Short story, won't take long:

I woke up this morning feeling pretty refreshed. I had a nice long 8 hours, and before that an awesome dinner consisting of all my favorite vegetables and a new kind of lemon tofu I was trying out. I already knew what I was going to wear; the whisper blue slacks I hadn't worn in months and my favorite puff sleeve black sweater (its cold in my office). All was right with the world.

I walked into my bathroom and turned on the shower. As I waited for the water to turn hot, I pulled out my new clay face wash and mask that I'd gotten from Organics and smeared it all over my cheeks laughing at my crisp white face in the mirror. Ahhhhh, Wednesdays, I thought to myself.

I turned to step into the shower when all of the sudden a giant cockroach the size of two conjoined black olives scattered from the drain pipe and started bolting up the tile in my shower.

Blood curdling screech.

More screeching.

Running out of the bathroom screeching.

Then into the kitchen, clutching my boobs as if they could save me.

There was not a man in sight. All I had in my defense was an extra large can of Ant & Roach spray that I bought when D accidentally brought me over a baby roach infested bag of rice (which I forced him to drive all the way back and dispose of).

I held that can of Raid as if it were my only hope of infinite life in the face of Armageddon. I doused the criminal with the Raid and screeched as it fell to it's doom in the half water-filled tub. I watched as it struggled and twitched in the water, then gave up and let death rescue him from his misery. I was triumphant.

"You know roaches can hold their breath under water." Tim said this morning after I replayed my horrific bathroom battle to him while we stepped into the elevator.

"I know.....
........like....for how long?"

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.

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.

Love, Happiness and Other Lies We Tell Ourselves...

Ironically, the things we all love to much, run to and look forward to are often fleeting and scattered. Maybe it's the hunt that makes them so appealing or maybe too much of it would just be....too much?

I often wonder when the heroine addition to happiness began. When the carrot fell in front of our faces and we decided that our mission in life would be to chase it at all costs. Was it the first kiss from our mothers? The first toy we played with? Something that introduced the affects of love, comfort and happiness. That feeling in your gut that makes gravity feel stronger and the air feel lighter. Suddenly we're hooked.

If you look back on your life, it's very easy to see what you want to see. The one who got away, the major you should have taken, the job you should have quit, so on. It's easier because it's clearer...but never that clear.

All I could see when I thought about being here with D was his smile, his laugh, his arms and every little thing he does that makes me feel at home. It was harder to think of the things, the big things that make us fundamentally different. Having a million inside jokes won't make up for everything. And YES it is ok to walk away from a good man and from a good thing.

This is when I'm supposed to say, "Its with great regret...." but I'm done with that. Regret has been an emotion I've run from since I was a little girl. I'll be 25 this month. And I can say is that I hope this year I end up somewhere good.

*On to the Next*

Gonna Start Doin Crack....

Over the past few years, I've been in total awe of the new developments in technology. The economically kind cars, the websites that make your life easier (Thank you Fresh Direct..!) the advancements in medicine, even the flying car passing it's safty test recently. One thing, however, that I've steered clear of is the Blackberry.

Why you ask?

Well aside from the fact that I thought it looked strange to have a laptop-sized mobile device planted at the side of your face, and the fact that I never needed that much information to be at my finger tips at any given moment, I was also just plain intimidated by the thing. The small buttons, the thousands of features, the mandatory data pack...it all wisked over my head...WHHOOOSH.

Anyway, with all of the things I'm trying to balence here in Houston; social clubs, stylist business, doctor appointments, school, work, D, I figured getting electronically organized would be a good move.

So I am here by going to be a Blackberry user. Ugh....I'm already browsing eBay like a zombie searching for the perfect SwarovskiCrystal Hello Kitty hard case...

Living in Suburbia...

So I've heard some recent remarks (mainly from my mother) about being to harsh on Houston. Granted, my reaction hasn't been all that...er...fair. However, it's not far from the reaction I had to my last culture shock, NYC. I hated it at first. Hated the smell, hated the people, hated the weather. Although I loved the shopping, music, buildings, and men....there was still a lot of initial hate...

...Where was I....?


...Ok, so anyway, I'm beginning to see why people who are ready to settle down and start a family move to the suburbs. Why they go to a place so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city life, so secluded and comfortable and well maintained....basically it's because here in suburbia it's a lot harder to escape.

I'll admit to the void and to whatever audience this poor blog might still have that in my deepest heart of hearts, I know I don't belong here.

The question is...can something that doesn't belong somewhere remain for other reasons. Can I be unselfish...and see beyond the sharp change in environment?

Time will tell...

Love Drains my Veins

I'm so strung out on my boyfriend. I can't even remember what alone feels like these days. I wake up next to him, we drive to work together, our weekends are all about each other. I'm starting to feel like a crack head. Like I have this habit that I know I need to kick, but no matter how hard I try I reach for the pipe every chance I can get. The pipe!!! The pipe is calling me!!!

By the time I get back to CA I'll look like this:

The Lizard Has Departeth...

About a week ago while I was basking in the light of unemployment, watching a few pre-recorded episodes of my guilty pleasure (which I shall never reveal), I gazed casually toward the corner of our the room to admire the new ficus D and I bought from Home Depot to accent our living room...

So this lizard ran down the trunk of the tree which caused me to jump, then squeal, then run upstairs while grabbing the phone to call D at work. After he got done chuckling and re-regulated his breathing he told me not to panic and just get out of the house for a while.

A while? Ha..! I threw on some clothes and hit up the closest mall determined to kill the 4 remaining hours before I had to pick D up from work.

Long story short the ficus stayed outside for a week.

Finally, yesterday morning I asked D to bring the tree back in since I didn't think there could possibly be a lizard that would be so determined to hang on to a ficus that it would endure a rough shaking, a lengthy hosing and my shrieking screams. But as soon as the tree came back inside and I turned on the dining room light (and a very high powered flashlight) I saw a tiny and VERY still little head. Again, of course I began screaming.

D drug the tree back outside and shook the tree and hit it with the broom stick until the lizard finally jumped out and onto the back patio (again i screamed from the other side of the door).

After D hosed the lizard away and convinced me that it was gone I was finally able to relax.

The lizard had left the building.

Also, my emergency mall trip resulted in a silk blouse and a new dress, so who can really complain?