oh those feelings

sometimes i miss you so much it hurts...like a real physical "oh my God my stomach hurts, my throat is closing up, i need to lie down" kind of hurt.

Then I realize, I just got my period and the stomach ache was cramps, the throat closing is me holding back yet another tiresome tide of tears, and the thoughts in my head were due to PMS and crazed hormones.

still though, i miss you so much it hurts...only sometimes though.

If I ever get the chance to love like that again, I promise I won't take it so lightly - I don't care what race or religion he might be - love is love and everyone else will just have to deal.

please let me have another chance like that.

thanks God.

Love, 

J

L.A. - is it lust or love?

Los Angeles, the City of Angels and easy access to the best brownie ingredient ever.  

I love L.A.  - and I know, that as a 3-year old New Yorker, I should not be allowed to utter such an exclamation. With it's easy going, no cloud-in-the-sky beach vibe and Hollywood Glamour core, I can't help but wonder...is my interest in L.A. just a passing affair?  Is it the air or the way the warm sand sinks in between the crevices of my toes that makes me daydream about my very own Santa Monica beach-side apartment?  Maybe it's the fact that L.A. means never having to say 'I'm freezing!' or 'Why is the snow black?'

But aren't these all just superficial reasons for my adoration of this West Coast city?  L.A. is beautiful on the surface, yes - but where is the heart of the city?  Where are the street fairs, those NY-only events which causes an entire avenue to be blocked off for a vendor-happy day filled with cheap sunglass knock-offs, gyros, and plantains?  Where's the hole-in-the-wall falafel joint or the bright lights and gorgeous skyline that still, 3 years later, makes me grin like the tourist I still am at heart? Where are the screaming crazies  on the subways?  Hell, where are the subways?  Where are the pedestrians?  If you walk in L.A., it is you who is considered a 'crazy'.

And yet, I have a lust for the city - an indescribable desire to simply pack up my $1800/month studio apt and move cross-country to live a life of water sports, celebrity sightings, and 12 months/year of golden tanned skin.

To live in a place where I know absolutely no one - a frightening feat, and yet a turn-on all the same.

L.A. is like that random sexy guy you meet who you want things to work out with, except your convos scream 'awkward pauses'... it's exciting and thrilling and you want to jump into it b/c it makes you hot - but you're still left wondering - - where's the substance?  where's the soul?

Still though, there's something to be said for exciting, hot, and thrilling - even though it may not last forever...

I'd love to plunge head (and heart) first into the L.A. culture - to get the taste of living there, to embrace the vibe, and honestly...to run away from my present...if only just for a little while.

New York will always be my First True Love - but let's be serious, how many people actually end up with their First True Love's?

the gym

there was a time when i lived for it, the hum of the treadmills, the camaraderie of the lifters, everyone there looking to get in better shape, to maintain, to expose those abs hidden under a layer or 2 of skin.

and now...i honestly am not that into it.  the tiresome treadmill, mundane weights, blah blah blah.

i spend thousands of dollars on celebrity personal trainers to entertain me and keep me interested.

i wish i could eat and eat and eat and stay stick stick thin.

woe to my mediocre metabolism.

but you're my asshole

"i'm an asshole."

"but you're my asshole."

she smiles sheepishly as he states the obvious and finally he's in.

i'm an asshole - but don't come in.  i'm not ready to feel the warmth just yet.

cigarettes and garlic powder

I woke up today with the taste of last night's garlic powdered covered pizza in my mouth.  Curling up under the covers, not wanting to start the day, the smell of his cigarette lingered on me as well.  As I got up, desperate to rub this taste and these memories off of me, I glanced at my smudged mascara and flushed cheeks.  In the haze of my hung-over state, I had to smile. An interesting night with a random hot kiss, ending with a pizza and friends - all too reminiscent of my college days.

The only differences?  This isn't college and I have a boy who loves me waiting at home.

Never would have thought I would be 'that girl'.

Thanks to the ex-es for making me the commitment-phobe that I am.