mental or physical

i don't know if its mental or physical, but I feel so much better when I stay away from meat-products.

yesterday, I had some green tea pannacotta and chocolate pudding - both were made with eggs and at least one was made with cream.  I also had a salmon maki roll.  The rest of the day my stomach was decidedly in knots.

This morning, I woke up craving a juicy green drink or a salad or something with vitamins, minerals, and water-filled greens.

I purchased a green raw greek salad with avocado and felt alive.  Afterwards, I bought a raw chocolate bar - truth be told, I prefer non-raw chocolate, but I do not prefer the stomachache I get after eating it - so the raw chocolate bar provided me with the antioxidants, nut-protein, and cocoa I needed to quell my craving.

It's really hard for me to save money when there is so much good good food to devour.  I am trying really hard - I think I'm doing a decent job of it.

anyways - back to raw.  I don't know if it's a mental thing, and I'm just getting 'pretend' aches from meat products, but I just feel so good and awake eating 'live' foods.

Plus its hot now, so salads are back in style.

I will attempt the rest of the week in a raw/vegan lifestyle (vegan meaning, maybe some cooked veggies, and possibly veggie sushi rolls, and definitely alcohol of the vino-variety)

will post my thoughts on this next week.

moppy hair and freckles

in route to hoboken, standing on the path, I look down and see below me a short person about 22 years younger than me discussing submarines, bridges, and sunglasses with his father.

This person has a mop of curls covering his head, piercing blue eyes, and possibly freckles.

Dad: So the subway is like the bridge but underwater

little person: like a submarine?

Dad: exactly - it's like we're in a submarine

little person: oo that's weird

Dad: haha true it is kinda weird

other conversations ensued - as I eavesdropped.  

At one point, this wobbly, fairly new to walking, person's head grazed against my forearm and the softest hair i'd ever felt brushed against me.  4 year old product-less and innocent curly moppy hair.

At that moment, I wanted a little person of my own with soft hair to discuss submarines with...my eyes teared up, the subway stopped, and i hurried off to reach my other kid-free 20-somethings and forget about my random urge to procreate.   

i'm probably ovulating, hence the urge.

i need someone new to kiss

I need someone new to kiss.

I'm tired of the same mouth, the same taste, the same hands pulling at my clothes, the same body resting next to mine.

Some say familiarity is comforting - I say its boring.

I'm bored.

Isn't it sad - once you're married or in a long relationship, where does the initial fire go?  That 'got to have you now' feeing only remains for a bit I think...after that I'd think things get too comfortable and boring.  Then again, what do I know?  

All I know is

I need someone new to kiss - I'm getting bored.

i love being busy

i love being busy doing stuff i enjoy doing.

6 months ago i was doing work that, while not horrible, was not exactly what i wanted.

now - the work is plentiful, the hours are unstructured, and the management, while nice, is a bit crazy - - yet i LOVE it. i LOVE it, i LOVE it.  Even when it gets to be too much, even when everything I do doesn't get accolades, I love it b/c it's so me.  

The perfect blend of computer science with art and writing - who would've thought?

It is 1256 - and I am working - I do not get overtime - and I do not care. 

In other news, a well-known magazine read my online articles and wants me to write for them.  

Is this career heaven?  I think so.

fafsa

fafsa and saving $ is like an adventure - saving money and noticing prices ...interesting.

i sound like a brat.

but that's because i am.

well, was.

now i'm a grad-school impending adult.

ya!

scary faced dreams

you look mean in my dreams

like a mean man with bad intentions, your face in my dreams has the scowl i remember and shudder away from

sometimes my dreams show you as kind, like i remember you to be years ago

then i miss you

but the mean looking you in my most recent dream scares me away

i run away in these dreams, i keep running and running till you leave, my subconscious taking another turn in my REM state of mind

i keep running but you keep coming up 

randomly

everywhere

from city to city to dream to dream to email to picture, i see you. 

i just want to feel. Apathy.

an oxymoron indeed.

londonians

London males are just like American males except their accents make everything they say sound dignified and gentlemanly.

If a guy from london wants to kiss you he asks, in perfectly Prince William-esque articulation, "Would it be quite alright if we were to kiss now?"

When a londonian male wants to say a certain group of girls from a certain location are hot, he might say something like, "Girls from Essex are really nice."

Londonian males get away with a lot because the accent is hard to get mad at.

Except when a londonian says the following: Are you going to take my friend home with you, because I do think you should, he quite fancies you.

This is when Londonian males turn into typical boys and it's time for me to go home.

But not before they hail me a cab and I divert from the commonplace cheek kiss.

I'm an American and not just anyone gets to kiss these cheeks, cultural norms be damned.

rum and pineapple juice

rum and rum and juice and juice, makes me dizzy.  The room is spinning and the music is too loud and I think I see you around every corner.  But it's not you, it's some random male who looks like you in my drunken daze.  And if I scrunch up my nose right when I'm about to cry, I can stop the tears  - I've been doing this for months..it's an art I've perfected.  No one sees me cry, they just see the scrunched up nose, as if I'm smelling something foul.

Too much rum and juice makes me dizzy.  I think I see you and actually have a friend in this world.  But then I realize you chose to leave my life - and the dizziness gets sickly, and I need to sit before I puke from the sadness of it all.

Mr. X

Last night Mr. X surprised me with flowers, perfect white daisies, which are my favorite type.  Roses are nice, but for some reasons daisies really make me swoon.

During dinner, Mr. X discusses the economy and politics for a bit and educates me on the info I missed since I replaced CNN with E! news a long time ago.  He doesn't mind my interest in pop-culture and things work well because he is patient and explains everything in a way a really good professor might.  The only issue with Mr. X on this front is that he is very persuasive, so his liberal democratic ideals rub off on me, but I'm fairly liberal and democratic anyways so it's fine.

After dinner, Mr. X and I walk home.  We go upstairs and I begin to read the stack of magazines Conde Nast sends me. They attach each magazine with a press release, hoping I will write a blurb about them in one of my articles.  I like this.  Conde Nast respects me as a journalist, and this appeals to me greatly.  I peruse these articles for the upcoming trends of the season, with the comforting sound of Mr. X's tick-tick-ticking on the laptop.  Mr. X wears glasses when he works, and I find him cutest then.  I kiss him and the edges of the frame pinch me as our faces touch.  I am happy.

After working, we lie in bed together talking about random odds and ends, I fall asleep to his humming as he plays with my hair.

I love Mr. X.

430 pm vs. 300 am

My male of the moment (M.O.T.M.) is interesting.

I have been seeing said male since December now - and by seeing I mean meeting at parties, hanging out at my apartment, and having countless sleepovers which most likely leave him frustrated and me feigning oblivion and naivety toward his frustrations.  I'm a jerk, what can I say?

Recently I decided to make a break from my MOTM because our meetings were beginning to happen later and later in the evening, and by later and later i mean earlier and earlier in the morning.

After my proclamation of 'No more 3 Am calls' was understood, MOTM was a bit shocked at the change of pace.

Today I received a text - 'Want to hang out around 430 after work?'

Meeting a boy at 430 whom you've never seen any earlier than 10pm is a bit nerve-wracking, or maybe I'm just anxiety-prone due to PMS.

Could this MOTM turn into a RWBF?  (i'll let you figure out that abbreviation)

Perhaps I'll respond to his next text msg and let the chips lay as they may.  

All in the span of a day

I find repetitive insensitivity interesting...I also find it to be absolute BS.

I find it interesting.

I find it disgusting that there are people who are so insecure in their own abilities that they have to rain on others' parades to make themselves feel better.

I find it disgusting.

I find it stupid to lie about important things, the truth always comes out and with it comes a storm.

I find it stupid.

I find it sad in a way, that I am growing up and realizing that the world for the most part is full of people who won't stick up for you or be on your side because being diplomatic is much more politically correct than choosing a side and making a statement.

I find it sad...but only in a way, because these too, are lessons that must be learned.

I'm a lioness - we are loyal - we choose the sides of those we care for - political correctness be damned.

Sheeps are diplomatic - too scared to pick a side, they follow the herd, their head to the ground grazing the grass.

A lioness will attack if an animal so much as looks at her cubs in the wrong way - fangs glaring, growls erupting, and the instinct to protect in full motion.

A sheep will run away if an attack is made, hoping to save herself - blaming her disloyalty on her Darwinian concept of survival.

A sheep is a sheep is a sheep.  

I am a lioness and I'm ready to roar.

About a Boy

and by boy - i mean 28 year old man.

This boy-man, we'll call him Greg - proceeds to act as if he is in highschool.  We have had mild to moderate flirtations since the summer of 2005.  In '05 I resisted his advances because I was in love and happy, but in '06 I allowed his flirtatious commentary b/c I was out of love, sad, horny, and hey! - Greg was a cutie.

Cut to '09 - and Greg has finally gathered himself up enough to ask me out to dinner.  Dinner is lovely and he walks me home and that is that.

On-line flirtation ensues as if we are 16 year olds stealthily on 'AOL' while in class.  I get more and more agitated.

Compliments are fed to me and yet actions speak louder than words.

I grow bored and discard him - yet, he seems to keep popping back in - perhaps b/c there are few 'Gregs' around and I would like to end up with a 'Greg'-type - due to our similarities in culture and religion.

I've never dated a 'Greg' - I've dated every other name under the moon...perhaps it's a sign that I should stick to what I know...direct men who call a girl when they like her and take the plunge to be with her.

Time will tell I hope.

pain

 i see pictures of you and i get the qualities of a fever.  I'm hot and cold at the same time, sweating and shivering simultaneously, my stomach twists and turns, and i get dizzy and nauseous.

the pictures are peculiar, because the person in them is someone I don't even know anymore...so then why the fever?  Perhaps it is a fever of memories past. 

Isn't it strange how a person can give you such a violent physical reaction?  I think its crazy~!  I hope I've never given anyone anything close to that.  Perhaps I've broken a few hearts... but I think I've always done it in a pretty good way, so as not to leave a scar so deep its never really healed.

In times like these I like to think - 'If Jennifer Anniston can take it, then so can I!'

what's in a name? a lot.

Today I discovered a missing piece of jewelry.

Deep in the pocket of my comforter-like coat, I found 1 lone diamond encrusted earring with the familiar logo by the 'always a classic' Coco Chanel.  Digging deeper into the pockets I uncovered old movie tickets, gum wrappers, apartment keys, a grocery list, and a folded 20-dollar-bill, but no Chanel.  Scrounging on the floor, separating the fibers of the carpet bit by bit, I aimlessly searched for the proverbial 'needle in a haystack' - yet my conquest led to nothing but a sweater coated with dust bunnies.

Oh Chanel!!  I miss those sparkling diamond-encrusted cc's on my 2nd hole!   The quintessential double C's, how I miss thee.

While I plan to have more Chanel in my future, you know what they say - 

You never forget your first.