Saturday, August 29, 2009

I can see that you're a bouncing ball

So, this will be quick as I have people coming over tonight.

I got the information from Baruch today which makes me very happy, now all I have to do is read it. Before I bother to apply though I have to take the GRE's and then get certified to teach.

I wish, and I know that this sort of beginning to a sentence always sounds flimsy and possibly naive, that I could be a full time writer. That I had the discpline to sit down and friggin' finish a chapter in one night. I can't, I know that, so let me amend that particular component to the wish and say that I wish I had the ability to finish at least a page a night.

Maybe it's the 'lazy genes' that I have, maybe it's just pure abject fear. Fear that I will accomplish something and face the consequences - i.e. being rejected, being bribed, lowering my standard and possibly having to sell my book as an e-book (which frankly grosses me out a little). Or maybe I'm just scared that I don't have it in me and I prolong the writing process so that I can hold on a little longer to a pipe dream.

Either way lies fear.

On another front - I'm writing this in my "office"! Pictures are forthcoming.

Monday, August 24, 2009

I had a post but ZING when the heartstrings of that idea

I had approximately two ideas in which to write about tonight and for some reason my brain shorted out and now I have no idea.

I was going to post my honeymoon pictures, but let's face it. I'm pretty lazy right now. I was going to talk about this amazing book that I just finished reading by this French author called "The Most Beautiful Book in the World". Go read it.

I will conclude this meager post with the thought that I should never be allowed to watch reality show competitions in which the victims - urm, the contestants have to sing, dance or act. I get choked up. I do. It's true - this cold cold heart gets warmed up and swells with pride for those that have the balls to get on up there...and somehow this only applies to people with real talent.

It's one of the reasons I don't watch award shows.

If you tell anyone I'll deny it.

Music: Mating Game - Bitter:Sweet
Mood : ugh

Monday, August 17, 2009

Old Men and Sweden...viva la vida

I have this weird thing where little old men that 1. wear little cabbie hats 2. bermuda type shorts 3. tall black socks and 4. walk hunched over, are, in my mind, the cutest thing in the world. Some people have puppies. Some have kittens, I have little old men . They look like tiny little boys as if they are somehow de-aging. Not only are they becoming smaller but they are becoming wrinkled, hunched over, crotchety and cheap old men. So adorable. I just want to pinch their cheeks.

I believe I'm one of like ten people in the world who think that. My husband thinks I'm insane (but really, what else is new?) and one of my co-workers just doesn't understand (she doesn't like old people).

Now Old People in general (not the capital O and the capital P) are very weird creatures. When you lump them into one giant category, you wonder to yourself, holy shit - that'll be me in a few decades and 'God, I hope I don't think it's fashionable to wear pantyhose and sandals'. Also, what's up with the whole talking to yourself thing? I hope that when I'm old enough to not remember if I'm talking out loud, I'm at least entertaining. I mean, I have a lot of respect for old people (and I wish America did) but I do have a limit and that is muttering to yourself about a fight that you got into thirty years before with someone who is most likely dead OR muttering to yourself about why the new young sales associate at Key Food gyped you on twenty cents when you know that liver is really 1.99 a pound and not 2.19.

However - Old People. Keep. on. Trucking.

Now, on to Sweden.

Oh Sweden, how I forgot how wonderful you are. Or rather, how amazing you are. You give us crazy Americans a plentitude of things that are great and which humble us.

Have you ever watched a man from Brooklyn who is an art major try to put together a table from Ikea? Watch as he grunts, swears, bleeds and and curses your great land. How you humble him so.

Have you ever seen a bunch of college kids drunk off their asses from Svedka (the cheaper, but just as delicious, alternative to Absolut) and orange juice? Knowing that the amount of acid in OJ is just begging their stomachs to halt parastalsis and head the other way?

Perhaps you've seen a group of people in their mid-twenties and up getting a little drunk off your Absolut? Oh, how you make our mouths water with the vast options of flavors. Mango, Pear, Peach, VANIL! But, seriously, if you could step over here a minute, yeah thanks, no, watch out for the Billy bookcase, ok. Now, just one question. Which jagoff decided it was a good idea to make a fucking pepper vodka? Seriously that shit is really only good for the young, the stupid and the chefs. Oh. Southern women. Bloody Mary's? Oh. *cough* ok. Well, see, I feel chagrined. That's gotta be close to humble, right?

Oh Sweden. You have lit up our lives here in dreary America. For that. I salute you. I have to. I just finished my absolut vanil and pineapple.

Mood: relaxed: Photobucket

It's a man's world

There is something so incredibly sexy about the song "It's a Man's World" by Seal (a cover obviously) that though I am at work - this song is playing on Frequence 3 and I got a small shiver up my arm and this urge to sway.

If only Hubby danced!

Anyhoo - Hubby built me an office! It's made of Ikea Billy bookcases and I'm going to get a desk and rearrange it - it's 8x8 and I'm so super excited. I'll take pics and post them. I can't wait to actually use it. :D

Had a sort of heart-to-heart with my mother and while that was a bit uncomfortable (because I have trouble with discussing emotions) I was exceptionally proud of us for being able to discuss certain things. It also proved that certain pockets of my family carry more crazy crackers than others.

Tried to do some writing and succeeded. Oh and by succeed I mean that I wrote a paragraph - nothing to be excited about and sort of lame. I'm lame.

I want another vacation but a mini-break will suffice. I'm starting to feel a little restless here in NYC. I think I need another breath of someone else's air.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Martini's, Reading and Mary Ford

By the by, Les Paul passed away. He was amazing and he created a style that is hands down amazing. Without him, we might be stuck with banjos.

Anyway, I came home from work today sweating and glistening like a rabid pig and decided to make myself a drink - yes drink, just pretend that the word is italicized and you'll know what I mean. Instead I decided to shower. Now Hubby works later than I do so i got to enjoy my shower - and no, not like that. Just taking a luxurious shower and taking your own sweet time conditioning your hair, shaving your legs and lathering up is enough for me. And let me tell you how sweet it is. I smell great, feel great and am currently sitting here typing this in tacky shamrock shorts and a Blow Pop shirt.

After the shower I made a martini because it's been a while since I've had a decent one. I don't have any coconut rum so I couldn't make my signature Pineapple Upside Down Cake. What came out was essentially pineapple juice and vanilla vodka with a splash of banana rum. So, I'm cozy and feeling good and enjoying myself quite nicely in my quiet home.

I pick up my book that I've been reading, Luanne Rice's "Light of the Moon" - it's sort of a hokey read but it's essentially a quick beach read and though it's a bit predictable, it's a nice culmination of drama and romance. Sort of like Alice Hoffman without any of the darkness. Anyway, I find myself actually making facial expressions that match my inside emotions and I realize that I need to stop reading just so I don't end up freezing my face in a shocked expression.

And on that note...there's nothing going on here. Radio Charice is broadcasting busted weekend plans, a trip to the bar tonight and possible a tattoo within the next few weeks.

Keep tuning in.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Manic Mondays and Rainy Days

So, I was expressing earlier my discontent with the schedulization (yes, I made this word up. Deal with it) of my life and how I would be happier if I could just get out of this rut.

Well, Tuesday started with a slight hangover due to the de-schedulization of Monday. I picked my hubby up and we went to a bar where we had about three drinks and then cabbed it home.

Was there anything particularly exciting about this bar?
No. The bartender was actually sort of annoying and had that personality that relied on corny jokes, timing and the incessant need to hear the sound of his own voice.

Did I set out to go?
Again, no. It just sort of happened. I was starving and would have been content at my local neighborhood bar. I didn't need to drink but I did need to eat and since I'm no posh-upper west side kind of gal, all I know to eat on a Monday after work is bar/grill.

What this action did do was allow to me to break free from the constraints of Monday. That shackling, brutal beating of a Monday and allowed me to substitute that day for a Thursday night. Sans obliteration.

It felt good. And I did have enough vitamin water that night to enjoy the fact that Tuesday was just another groggy sort of morning.

Now, I might have done something slightly heroic in my opinion - for who dares to defy the mundane brain-washing tactics of Monday, the God of the work week - but I may have pissed off the weather Gods because the next day was unbearably hot, yesterday was heavy with the the threat of rain and today looks like the beginning of the Apocalypse. The first sign of a frog and I'm outta here.

Mood: Indifferent : Photobucket

Music: Bell X1 (in my head)

Monday, August 10, 2009

a la Peanut Butter Sandwiches - or a Book Review

Forgot to mention. I had an author read my review of her story on Goodreads and she asked me to put it up on Amazon. I did her one better and put it up on BN.com as well.

The author is Patrice Sarath and it was for her sequel to "Gordath Wood" this book was entitled "Red Gold Bridge". Here's my review.


This book actually gets a 4.67 from me. It was nearly perfect, yes, I said that.

It had the right mix of intrigue, thrills (not the cheap kind), suspense and wonder. The second book also got the POV's right, weaving them all together almost seamlessly and allowing every character to develop yet go further with the plot culminating back to the beginning to Joe. Joe started this book off and he ended the book, much like Lynne started the last book off.

I was afraid I was going to be left with the same feeling I had toward the romance of Aerin and Tor and the magic guy from "The Hero and The Crown" - but I wasn't. It was a good ending told realistically enough with Lynne, Joe and Crae and gave them enough of a good ending to believe anything else that followed.

Crae really grew on me in this book and I kept hoping for him to succeed and to be comfortable in his own skin as well as in his own lot. I didn't see him as an interloper between Joe and Lynne like the last book and I really felt he was coming into his own.

We learned more about Joe in this book. Between his own narration and the stories that his mother told, I got a better idea of just who Joe was and why he was so special.

Lynne took a bit of a backseat in this one and was more or less coming to terms with her own emotions and actions that occurred in the last book. Her choices have an effect on both men.

Kate Mossland is the object of a crazy man's affections and she grows up further in this book. She has an idea of what she wants to do and who she wants to be but it takes her a little while to get there. Her sacrifice is enormous and you can feel her loss, blunted only a little by the presence of Colar, and get a sense that maybe this sequel could lead to a third book.

The Importance of Being Idle

I am suffering from what I like to call "OMG I'm tired" syndrome.

This means that I'm physically tired and lifestyle tired; I need a nap and about a million bucks so that I can travel.

"Lifestyle tired? That sounds pathetic, alarming and a little scary. You just got married! How can you be lifestyle tired?!" you cry, concerned and confused.

I did just get married, I just came back from my honeymoon actually. Saint Martin is beautiful. I'm not tired of marriage or my husband. I'm tired of living in my apartment and being in NY and having to deal with waking up every morning to go to work.

It's not a reflection of my work in this case, either.

It's simply that I don't want to be a "slave to tomorrow's demands" as my husband so poignantly put it. I want to be able to sleep in, wake up when I want and then work. I want to have time to work on my novel, travel and hang out with friends. I want to create something with my own hands and spirit and be proud of it and still be able to get in at least ten hours of sleep. I want to be able to watch Adult Swim during the weekdays and not have to worry about waking up the next morning to catch a train.


I want to see the world. I want to live somewhere else other than New York (again). I want to eat different foods prepared in the region/countries they originated in. I want to read by the beach or at a cafe in an European city.

This is most likely just a case of wanderlust and idealism brought on by excessive sun and sand and Coors lights. I just have to adjust my wheels back on the rails lest I shall fall off and achieve something that could make or break me.

I like my apartment, I love love love my husband and I'm at peace with my job right now.

I think I just need another vacation with my husband.