cellular

overhearing arguments always makes me uncomfortable. the onset of that sick feeling in my stomach is almost immediate as soon as I realize that people are arguing and that I am intruding by being within reach of their voices. I am not the type of person to actually argue about an important or personal issue with anyone. will I argue about the virtues of one reality tv show over another? yes. will I actually raise my voice and tell someone that they are being a real (expletive)? probably not. when faced with a real live confrontation about something important I suddenly find myself suffering from lock-jaw. it becomes physically difficult to utter distinguishable words. the man in the hall next to me who is arguing with someone on the phone at this very moment is not having any difficulty saying things like 'you are being completely unreasonable' and 'well it's a good thing that is not your decision' and 'that has nothing to do with you'. so uncomfortable.

that's amore

things I will miss about New York:

performers in the subway
Central Park
laundromat lady
late night dinners
the couch
cupcakes
the Met
friendly middle aged New Yorkers
taxis
hearing Russian every day
the dogs
Sephora on every corner
my homegirls (Kristine, Catherine, and Brooke)
doing things by myself and it not being weird

42nd street

tonight on my way home i ate an entire bag of gummy worms. i just couldn't stop. i didn't even try to stop. i kept chewing and chewing and chewing and before i knew it i was home and they were gone.

gray matter

My subconscious hates me and is torturing me with dreams. And let me tell you, the ol' subconscious must have been working on the dream from last night for a while cause it was a real doozy. Gone are the happy dreams of impossible situations that I long for with all my little heart. The happy dreams that can't and wont come true were hard, but reality is harder. Instead of being forced to face my own latent hope for a past that can't come back, I'm forced to face my present reality. Sleeping and dreaming should be an escape from your real life where you ride unicorns and eat ice cream without getting fat, not a reminder of sad truths. This is a formal request for my subconscious to have a heart and leave me alone. Couldn't it pick up a new hobby? Instead of making up dreams it could write poetry or remember grocery lists or take a smoke break or something for a few hours.