No offense, but it's a little bugger of a month and I'll be happy to say goodbye to it in an hour and a half or so. I'm only hitting 8 posts this month in light of how packed the past four weeks have been and I fear March is going to bode similarly, but c'est la vie.
Have been meaning to write about a couple things: 1 being the classical music they play in the waiting terminal at Penn Station for the New Jersey Transit Line and the way I think that misleads people who are from NJ. They hear that music and totally forget that they are in fact going home to the armpit of America.
2 being the tendency I have to tense up whenever I am entering or exiting a subway terminal in the vicinity of a woman pushing a baby stroller.
Because I get so worried there won't be any one else around to offer to help her carry the child and carriage up or down the stairs, and I OBVIOUSLY want to help but I'm paranoid of falling up & down those stairwells when I'm walking on my own two feet and carrying my purse or Trader Joe's grocery bags, can you imagine the anxiety I would feel over lifting a CHILD at the same time.
It's dire.
The 3rd and final piece I'll share is that everytime I hear from my college roomie, Dr. Fife, I think she's getting in touch to tell me she's engaged, because the proposal is definitely impending. I hope impending has positive enough connotations to use in that sentence.
There's literally nothing I am more excited about currently - and that is really saying something because I've got the transformation going on, a new sisterband demo completed and ready to promote, a potential offer to go back to full time Agent-ing being put on the table, a half marathon to run in a month, the next draft of the book nearing completion, but seriously, nothing's got my hear more aflutter than knowing two people who are totally wonderfully perfect for each other and in SO much love are about to start a year and a half or so long walk to the aisle.
Yep - palpable excitement :)
Fortunately, Fife just assured me she'll call with the news when it's fit to print, so I don't have to worry about 60% of our conversations (gchat, texting, emails) coming through with the announcement, I just have to nearly have a heart attack any time the phone rings and it's her in the next month.
Fairwell February!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
My heart will go on and on
I just laughed out loud reading that title to myself. Mostly because I can hear Celine Dion's voice singing the second "and on" in particular.
My sorelline were in town this weekend to record a second set of demo tracks for our Sisterband. If I were tech savvy, I'd find a way to link to our renditions of Katy Perry's "Pearl," Lady Antebellum's "American Honey," The Dixie Chicks' "Wide Open Spaces," and Jane Naugler's "Step Up," but alas, I mostly only know how to include pics like the ones below and hyperlinks like this one for Analogue Muse the studio where we recorded in Chelsea. (Bad Ass right?) Our sound guy, who I value for his uber sweetness and seemingly genuine honesty says he really likes the "contemporary folk" thing we're rocking, this April we're doing a photo shoot, and then later this Spring we'll shop around our act to some record companies I have acquired contacts at through my dayjob role as Agent Extraordinaire and that my bambina sorella's researched in her free / procrastinating while doing hellish Junior year of high school homework time.
We're pretty stoked about the process in general and pretty psyched with how this second round of recording went.
Anyway, wiped from our session, we layed low last night here at my apartment and had a good old fashioned slumber party, complete with a viewing of "Titanic" on ABC Family. Which brings me to my latest realization of "no wonder I wound up delusional..."
Two months ago, you may remember, I wrote about seeing the infamous Peter at a BC networking/holiday party here in the city. And how when I'd first met Peter as 19-year-old-not-really-ready-for-the-responsibilities-she-had-as-an-RA-to-35-Keyes-South-Freshmen-sister-to-a-pot-addicted-brother-daughter-to-a-woman-dealing-with-her-mother's-stage-4-lung-cancer-and-college-girlfriend-to-an-only-child-Naugs I was tempted to throw caution to the wind, and claim that this boy was basically worth throwing anything and everything away for.
I mean, I'm exaggerating here, as a simple kiss at a ND tailgate in an Indiana corn field would hardly have equated to "throwing anything and everything away," but it's more the idea I had at the time, the romantic notion that not having known anything about this boy, who'd done well enough at BC to land himself a job earning 6 figures by the time he was 24, other than that he'd had his heart broken at one point in Anchorage and that he kept calling me his sweetheart, I was confident I had grounds to fall hard for him on.
It's Kate Winslet as Rose jumping off the rescue boat as she's being lowered down towards the water and reading in Leo / Jack's eyes the truth that Billy Zane's not going to let him benefit from the arrangement he's made with the pursor on the other side of the ship who's allowing some men in before women & children.
She's so rash and impassioned, "you jump, I jump, right!?!?"
And I was like 11 when I first saw "Titanic" 3 times in the theaters that winter break when it was released and raking in a billion gajillion dollars to pay back James Cameron's bankruptcy ten to a hundredfold times.
SO FREAKING IMPRESSIONABLE.
They're love lasted all of 24 hours, or something ridiculous like that, but while that old woman who was robbed of the oscar for Best Actress that year (if I remember correctly) seemed to have no trouble loosening her grip on the Heart of the Ocean and sending the big blue diamond to the bottom of the big blue sea, she "never let go" of Jack.
UGH.
And I'll have you know I didn't cry at last night's viewing (not even when the Irish mum's telling her twins the fairy tale as the water fills the 3rd class cabins, because really, at this point in my life, I think I've shed an ample amount of tears for the fictional characters in that mega-blockbuster), but I did learn a little something and decide I can cut myself some slack for being such a sap and for getting so wrapped up in the Peter saga when I did.
I was misconstruing my urge to have a pseudo fling with my need to break free from the repression I'd seen female characters face in classic films from the time I was 11. "Who doesn't know what I'm talking about?"
Silly sister-singer-so-wishes-she-were-in-fact-a-princess-Naugs.
Seriously, guys, email me if you want me to send you the songs we recorded this weekend - they came out great :)
My sorelline were in town this weekend to record a second set of demo tracks for our Sisterband. If I were tech savvy, I'd find a way to link to our renditions of Katy Perry's "Pearl," Lady Antebellum's "American Honey," The Dixie Chicks' "Wide Open Spaces," and Jane Naugler's "Step Up," but alas, I mostly only know how to include pics like the ones below and hyperlinks like this one for Analogue Muse the studio where we recorded in Chelsea. (Bad Ass right?) Our sound guy, who I value for his uber sweetness and seemingly genuine honesty says he really likes the "contemporary folk" thing we're rocking, this April we're doing a photo shoot, and then later this Spring we'll shop around our act to some record companies I have acquired contacts at through my dayjob role as Agent Extraordinaire and that my bambina sorella's researched in her free / procrastinating while doing hellish Junior year of high school homework time.
We're pretty stoked about the process in general and pretty psyched with how this second round of recording went.
Anyway, wiped from our session, we layed low last night here at my apartment and had a good old fashioned slumber party, complete with a viewing of "Titanic" on ABC Family. Which brings me to my latest realization of "no wonder I wound up delusional..."
Two months ago, you may remember, I wrote about seeing the infamous Peter at a BC networking/holiday party here in the city. And how when I'd first met Peter as 19-year-old-not-really-ready-for-the-responsibilities-she-had-as-an-RA-to-35-Keyes-South-Freshmen-sister-to-a-pot-addicted-brother-daughter-to-a-woman-dealing-with-her-mother's-stage-4-lung-cancer-and-college-girlfriend-to-an-only-child-Naugs I was tempted to throw caution to the wind, and claim that this boy was basically worth throwing anything and everything away for.
I mean, I'm exaggerating here, as a simple kiss at a ND tailgate in an Indiana corn field would hardly have equated to "throwing anything and everything away," but it's more the idea I had at the time, the romantic notion that not having known anything about this boy, who'd done well enough at BC to land himself a job earning 6 figures by the time he was 24, other than that he'd had his heart broken at one point in Anchorage and that he kept calling me his sweetheart, I was confident I had grounds to fall hard for him on.
It's Kate Winslet as Rose jumping off the rescue boat as she's being lowered down towards the water and reading in Leo / Jack's eyes the truth that Billy Zane's not going to let him benefit from the arrangement he's made with the pursor on the other side of the ship who's allowing some men in before women & children.
She's so rash and impassioned, "you jump, I jump, right!?!?"
And I was like 11 when I first saw "Titanic" 3 times in the theaters that winter break when it was released and raking in a billion gajillion dollars to pay back James Cameron's bankruptcy ten to a hundredfold times.
SO FREAKING IMPRESSIONABLE.
They're love lasted all of 24 hours, or something ridiculous like that, but while that old woman who was robbed of the oscar for Best Actress that year (if I remember correctly) seemed to have no trouble loosening her grip on the Heart of the Ocean and sending the big blue diamond to the bottom of the big blue sea, she "never let go" of Jack.
UGH.
And I'll have you know I didn't cry at last night's viewing (not even when the Irish mum's telling her twins the fairy tale as the water fills the 3rd class cabins, because really, at this point in my life, I think I've shed an ample amount of tears for the fictional characters in that mega-blockbuster), but I did learn a little something and decide I can cut myself some slack for being such a sap and for getting so wrapped up in the Peter saga when I did.
I was misconstruing my urge to have a pseudo fling with my need to break free from the repression I'd seen female characters face in classic films from the time I was 11. "Who doesn't know what I'm talking about?"
Silly sister-singer-so-wishes-she-were-in-fact-a-princess-Naugs.
Seriously, guys, email me if you want me to send you the songs we recorded this weekend - they came out great :)
Friday, February 18, 2011
Dear Universe,
I received your two latest signs.
My question is: why don't you want me to see "Blue Valentine" alone? Twice this week I've planned little "me time" excursions to the sole movie theaters still showing the film in either Boston or New York, and twice you've kept me from being able to do so.
What's that about?
Are you afraid it will make me cry?
Of course it will make me cry.
Every movie makes me cry.
Do you think it will stop me from believing in relationships and love?
I promise it won't. I promise I will primarily be there to see the acting prowesses of Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosseling.
I promise it won't replace "The Notebook" / "Lars and the Real Girl" as my favorite Ryan Gosseling movies.
I'm curious as to whether the third time I try to catch it will be a charm.
And I'm most curious as to whether or not I should chance it.
Thanks in advance for what I'm hoping will be a better night's sleep tonight than last night's as a result of not having had cash on me tonight OR my ATM card in my wallet when I went to see the 8:15 at The Lincoln Plaza Cinema.
Sweet dreams.
Sincerely,
My question is: why don't you want me to see "Blue Valentine" alone? Twice this week I've planned little "me time" excursions to the sole movie theaters still showing the film in either Boston or New York, and twice you've kept me from being able to do so.
What's that about?
Are you afraid it will make me cry?
Of course it will make me cry.
Every movie makes me cry.
Do you think it will stop me from believing in relationships and love?
I promise it won't. I promise I will primarily be there to see the acting prowesses of Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosseling.
I promise it won't replace "The Notebook" / "Lars and the Real Girl" as my favorite Ryan Gosseling movies.
I'm curious as to whether the third time I try to catch it will be a charm.
And I'm most curious as to whether or not I should chance it.
Thanks in advance for what I'm hoping will be a better night's sleep tonight than last night's as a result of not having had cash on me tonight OR my ATM card in my wallet when I went to see the 8:15 at The Lincoln Plaza Cinema.
Sweet dreams.
Sincerely,
Clearly someone placed a pea under my mattress
Last night I had the WORST sleep I've had in ages.
AGES.
Angst ridden, uncomfortable, and bombarded by unpleasant dreams where my bosslady hounded me, my old beaus re-broke my heart, and my hectic travel schedule caused me to miss a deadline for the "Transformation Project" I'm treating (in real life) as the part time job it effectively will be countable as once I've results to show and money in hand for having accomplished the task I'm charged to complete in the next 14 weeks.
UGH. Woe is the life of the wistful (after finding out that yet another one of the good guys out there's gone gay at the 106 Days to Reunion party) Upper Upper West Side Princess, and I woke throughout the night feeling all "something is wrotten in the state of Denmark"-like.
Luckily I think we're looking at a possible high of 60 degrees out in NYC today or by sometime this weekend, and what could be better than being able to run outside without the wind whipping one's face?
It's the little things.
AGES.
Angst ridden, uncomfortable, and bombarded by unpleasant dreams where my bosslady hounded me, my old beaus re-broke my heart, and my hectic travel schedule caused me to miss a deadline for the "Transformation Project" I'm treating (in real life) as the part time job it effectively will be countable as once I've results to show and money in hand for having accomplished the task I'm charged to complete in the next 14 weeks.
UGH. Woe is the life of the wistful (after finding out that yet another one of the good guys out there's gone gay at the 106 Days to Reunion party) Upper Upper West Side Princess, and I woke throughout the night feeling all "something is wrotten in the state of Denmark"-like.
Luckily I think we're looking at a possible high of 60 degrees out in NYC today or by sometime this weekend, and what could be better than being able to run outside without the wind whipping one's face?
It's the little things.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
"Yeah, you gotta go"
Okay, not to turn this into a blog about "How I Met Your Mother," but I'm trying to finish Season 5 within the week, because I'm heading home to 02465 for the weekend and will have to return the box set to my bro & his fiance.
And the closing line from this last episode I watched is classic.
I'm starting to see how dating evolves as we age. We as in mankind, and 20somethings alike, that is.
And my opinion on having hoes in different area codes was requested by everyone's favorite Beantown based graphic designer who came to NYC last weekend initially to see my new palace on the UUWS and shop Spring trends with me at the mega-H&Ms and Forever 21s of the World with the gift cards she'd gotten for Christmas.
But then you see, she'd met a musician that struck her fancy the week before out in 01061 and as it turned out the drummer boy was based in 11214 so he met up with us at a celebration in Boerum Hill Friday and then we went and checked out one of his kickarse bands at The Flea the following night.
She's not actually interested in dating said drummer boy, but would there be any harm in having him here to see casually whenever she's in town?
"Not in the least," I said, assuring her that it was like me having my DCboy to go out with when I'm visiting the lovebird friends (who I take pride in having successfully set up with one another) in our Nation's Capital.
And the closing line from this last episode I watched is classic.
I'm starting to see how dating evolves as we age. We as in mankind, and 20somethings alike, that is.
And my opinion on having hoes in different area codes was requested by everyone's favorite Beantown based graphic designer who came to NYC last weekend initially to see my new palace on the UUWS and shop Spring trends with me at the mega-H&Ms and Forever 21s of the World with the gift cards she'd gotten for Christmas.
But then you see, she'd met a musician that struck her fancy the week before out in 01061 and as it turned out the drummer boy was based in 11214 so he met up with us at a celebration in Boerum Hill Friday and then we went and checked out one of his kickarse bands at The Flea the following night.
She's not actually interested in dating said drummer boy, but would there be any harm in having him here to see casually whenever she's in town?
"Not in the least," I said, assuring her that it was like me having my DCboy to go out with when I'm visiting the lovebird friends (who I take pride in having successfully set up with one another) in our Nation's Capital.
When you're mobile (and who isn't in this day and age of blackberry & remote offices, in flight wi-fi and farewatcher deals that abound?) you're likely to run into way more "what could have beens" than people ever have before, and now thanks to facebook it's easy breezy to loosely stay in touch with even quasi connections. The possibilities are endless, so stack up your hoes.
Why not? Am I wrong?
(Errr...I think I'm going to write a gushy post Monday in Valentine's Day's honor to counter that last sentiment. But I digress).
Here's how Ted Mosby's line to his girl-toy in the 2nd to last episode of season 5 fits in / prompted me to finish my hos in different area codes post.
You get to this point where you know when someone's got potential or not. (A suitor, that is). It's not that you're not open to being pleasantly surprised or willing to get to know people, but your benchmarks are set in stone. You know where you're going more or less and who you ultimately want with you for the ride, and you gotta let anyone who doesn't fit the bill off the hook.
"Yeah, you gotta go''s basically what I told the boy I kiss of deathed with the viewing of The Green Hornet on our first date... 11756 is simply not an area code I feel the need to have a hoe in.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Hoes in different area codes
That last post was SO freaking lame. Like, la-dee-dah-dee-oh-lame.
Fear not though - the fodder (which I just realized works because it's a synonym for food - so fodder for thought - YES - I love the English language) I covered with my dear friend the dynamic graphic designer who was visiting this weekend is quite fun. And I'll be sharing it shortly.
Fear not though - the fodder (which I just realized works because it's a synonym for food - so fodder for thought - YES - I love the English language) I covered with my dear friend the dynamic graphic designer who was visiting this weekend is quite fun. And I'll be sharing it shortly.
the hudson
I'm catching up on Season 5 of How I Met Your Mother - one of the best shows ever.
And the episode "Of Course" (guest starring Jennifer Lopez) just made me cry.
Like, really cry. Ha. Which is great because that means it really must be one of the best shows ever. Situational comedy, with heart, at its finest. And all set, amusingly enough, right here in my own neighborhood on the UWS. Where NPH's character is supposed to have jumped into the Hudson is right by the boat basin about a mile from my apt - how cool is it that I caught that?
Anyway - the good news is I'm able to remedy my little surprise Sunday afternoon cry with a run.
The sun's finally shining enough to warm NYC up to a toasty 35 degrees or so, and I've recently realized that I've actually trained myself in the last two and a half years to love running.
How sweet it is.
And the episode "Of Course" (guest starring Jennifer Lopez) just made me cry.
Like, really cry. Ha. Which is great because that means it really must be one of the best shows ever. Situational comedy, with heart, at its finest. And all set, amusingly enough, right here in my own neighborhood on the UWS. Where NPH's character is supposed to have jumped into the Hudson is right by the boat basin about a mile from my apt - how cool is it that I caught that?
Anyway - the good news is I'm able to remedy my little surprise Sunday afternoon cry with a run.
The sun's finally shining enough to warm NYC up to a toasty 35 degrees or so, and I've recently realized that I've actually trained myself in the last two and a half years to love running.
How sweet it is.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Rabbit Rabbit
Great news...
It's February 1st and miraculously enough for the 2nd time in my life the first words out of my mouth this morning were "rabbit rabbit" which means I'm in for a luck-filled month!!
And what's more - MY ROOMMATE SAID "RABBIT RABBIT" THIS MORNING TOO!! For, like the 5th time in her life.
What are the odds?!?!?!
And what exciting lucky occurences are we going to happen upon here on the Upper Upper West Side this month!?
Are you all familiar with this superstition? My favorite teacher (in 3rd grade, at Franklin Elementary School, Mrs. Shekarchi) taught our class the ritual of saying "rabbit rabbit" before anything else on the first day of any month to insure that it will be a lucky one.
And I swear, I think July of 1993 is the last time I remembered to do so before uttering some utterly insignificant something or other over breakfast or at the office or on the way to the gym on the 1st of every month since.
So without further ado, I am charging forth excitedly into the month to come, and since I'm feeling extra positive and generous upon finishing the fun subway read my modmate and Milan travel buddy passed on to me with my housewarming goody bag last month, I am going to go ahead and share my good fortune with you :)
It's February 1st and miraculously enough for the 2nd time in my life the first words out of my mouth this morning were "rabbit rabbit" which means I'm in for a luck-filled month!!
And what's more - MY ROOMMATE SAID "RABBIT RABBIT" THIS MORNING TOO!! For, like the 5th time in her life.
What are the odds?!?!?!
And what exciting lucky occurences are we going to happen upon here on the Upper Upper West Side this month!?
Are you all familiar with this superstition? My favorite teacher (in 3rd grade, at Franklin Elementary School, Mrs. Shekarchi) taught our class the ritual of saying "rabbit rabbit" before anything else on the first day of any month to insure that it will be a lucky one.
And I swear, I think July of 1993 is the last time I remembered to do so before uttering some utterly insignificant something or other over breakfast or at the office or on the way to the gym on the 1st of every month since.
So without further ado, I am charging forth excitedly into the month to come, and since I'm feeling extra positive and generous upon finishing the fun subway read my modmate and Milan travel buddy passed on to me with my housewarming goody bag last month, I am going to go ahead and share my good fortune with you :)
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