[clever title]

Overheard at Work, vol. XXXIII

2012-01-28T10:38:00.004-05:00

This was a rough week at work, which somehow translated into me not collecting very many quotes.

Sometimes my job is putting out fires and NOT keeping aware of the hilarity around me.

Me, re. some garlic fries: Wow! These are stinky!
Colleague: Yeah, I'm planning on losing some friends today.
Me: Who are you gonna lose? That weird kid? (names have been redacted)
Colleague: That would be awesome, but he's got the curry. It would be an aroma battle!

"There was a cute boy up there!": an 11-year-old's reasoning for running upstairs when she shouldn't have been.
(I couldn't really argue with her.)

"Those pineapple are looking at me. They want me to eat them.": a teenage boy. (I know that look.)

Me to one of my favorite kids, after I tapped him on his arm in affection and he asked why: It's out of love. I'd punch you in the face if I could!

Overheard at Work, vol. XXXII

2012-01-20T22:43:00.003-05:00

I am going to have to start looking up Roman numerals soon.

Short week felt long. I am ready for bed.

"[gasp] You have a Jewish buddy!"--9-year-old to her friend after realizing a volunteer college student was also Jewish.

I covered girls' homework this week while my colleague was on vacation, and during homework on Wednesday, I realized that one tween was reading a magazine called "Teen Voices." Eventually, she called out, "What does it mean if he says 'she was so hot for me'?"

Later, she and her friends were poring over the magazine and stuck their heads out to ask, "What is heterosexual?"

14-year-old girl, as she attempted to braid my hair: "Your hair is so...white girl that it's not staying!"

The Season is Upon Us...

2012-01-15T22:56:00.002-05:00

Awards season, that is, of course!

Are you guys as excited as I am that it's this time again?

I am cozied up with my computer and my space heater as it is currently 13 degrees outside here in Boston, and my living room does not heat up sufficiently. I’m full of Chinese food and mulled wine and excited about this evening’s Golden Globes!

Best Dressed:
Reese Witherspoon (it looked amazing on stage)
I was also intrigued by Helen Mirren, Viola Davis, Claire Danes, Ariel Winter, and Angelina Jolie.

Worst Dressed:
Lea Michele
There were way more times that I said “ugh” to the dresses than “ooh.” I’m looking at you Glenn Close, Missi Pyle, and Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Best Sport:
Jodie Foster’s reaction to the Gervais’s beaver joke.

Worst Transition:
Ricky Gervais’s bit into Johnny Depp’s introduction of Hugo

Biggest Upset(s):
Meryl Streep beating Viola Davis (though I should have predicted it), followed by Kelsey Grammer beating Bryan Cranston

Most Annoying Presenter:
Paula Patton

Most Charming Accent(s):
Ludevic Bource, the French award-winning composer of The Artist score and Sofia Vergara (I like her better in her native language than in English)

Best Blink-and-You-Missed It Moment(s):
Dominic West congratulating his previous and dashing The Wire co-star Idris Elba for his win for Luther, followed by WHY DIDN’T DAVID FINCHER GIVE MERYL STREEP HER GLASSES?

My Vote for Next Year’s Host:
Seth Rogen, who got the biggest laugh of the night mentioning his erection for Kate Beckinsale (even she laughed!)

Most Charming Presenter(s):
Antonio Banderas and Salma Hayek, Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy(!), and George Clooney

Most Satisfying Win (IMHO):
Jessica Lange for her ridiculous and amazing, scenery-chewing turn on American Horror Story, though I’m glad Claire Danes and Modern Family won too.

Most Poised:
Claire Danes, as always

Foxiest Silver Fox:
Matt LeBlanc (he was totally dyeing his hair during Friends, right?)

Foxiest Non-Silver Fox:
Jean Dujardin (HE IS SO DREAMY!)

Best Host Bit:
Introducing Colin Firth: “He’s very racist…I’ve seen him punch a little, blind kitten.”

Best Speech:
Meryl Streep, unparalleled. (Honoring great female performances of the year, asking for her glasses, thanking her agent and God, Harvey Weinstein. She is the best.)

Most Accurate Inappropriate Joke:
George Clooney on Michael Fassbender’s…golf club…(Come to think of it, this was a very penis-centric telecast.)

Moments that Made Me Cry:
Kate Winslet’s speech (also, she is SO BEAUTIFUL. Jesus.), Michelle Williams’ speech, Octavia Spencer’s win, and Morgan Freeman

It will be interesting to see how this is all reflected in the Oscars.

All in all, a fine way to pass an evening. And I didn’t even freeze!

Overheard at Work, vol. XXXI

2012-01-14T00:19:00.002-05:00

Kid: Hey, Stephanie, did you do the homework?
Me: Yo, Steph, did you get that homework done, yo?...What if you really talked like that?
Kid: I'd be embarrassed.
(Yes.)

Colleague: Hi, what are you up to today?
Kid: You know, bein a boy.

Kid: 2 things I want to tell you. 1) You need to redye your hair.
(Obviously, I didn't care what the second thing was.)

Kid (trying to get her friends' attention): OK, listen up, my little poopcracks!

Teenaged boy: Yo, my sister has an eazy-bake oven. I need to make mad stuff with it...I need an apron, though.

Colleague: What are you doing now?
Me: I'm sort of just supposed to be around the building, but it's pretty quiet out there.
Colleague: How do you know what's happening on the 2nd or 3rd floor?
Me: I was just up there!
Colleague: I hear fights!

Kid: My hoodie is my best friend.
(She also said science class was her best friend. She needs more friends, methinks.)

Kid: A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead are trying to get on a flight but they aren't allowed on. So they sneak into sacks, without the pilot knowing. When the baggage people come to check out what's in the sacks, they kick each one. When the brunette is kicked, she says, "meow!" When the redhead is kicked, she says "Ruff! Ruff!" When the blonde's sack is kicked, she says "Potatoes!"
(I liked it.)

To My Blog, on Its Fifth Birthday

2012-01-10T08:55:00.001-05:00

Dear [clever title],

What a long, strange journey this has been.

You know, five years is a long time.

It’s longer than I’ve lived anywhere, except my childhood home.

It’s longer than I’ve had most of the clothes in my closet.

But not all of them.

It’s longer than any relationship I’ve had.

BY. YEARS. (But you knew that.)

Let’s take a moment to compare my world today with the world in which I was living when I started you.

January 2007:
I was 23.
I lived in Park Slope (again) in a small two-bedroom apartment with my friend, S.
I was working as an office assistant at a laboratory developing microbicides.
I was single.
I had lots of debt from using my credit card because I didn’t make any money and I lived in an expensive city.
I was listening to Justin Timberlake, Kelly Clarkson, Green Day, Gnarls Barkley, and Fall Out Boy, among others.
I was watching The Hills, American Idol and American Idol Rewind, Scrubs, Sex and the City, Extreme Makeover, Family Guy, Supernanny, Beauty and the Geek, and Miami Ink, among others.
I spent evenings either hiding from the city or spending too much money at bars and trying to meet men and being consistently sorely disappointed by them.

January 2012:
I am 28.
I live in Boston in a large three-bedroom apartment with two lovely ladies and down the street from my cousin and her daughter.
I am working with kids every day at a fantastic organization.
I am single.
I have lots of debt from paying for a Master’s degree myself.
I am listening to Adele, Florence + the Machine, Kelly Clarkson, Cee-Lo, Pink, Lady GaGa, and Beyonce, among others.
I am watching How I Met Your Mother, Glee, Modern Family, 30 Rock, Community, Dexter, Mad Men, and So You Think You Can Dance, among others.
I spend most of my evenings lying in my bed, watching NetFlix.

Upon reflection, it doesn’t seem like my life has changed all that much. Or maybe that my WORLD hasn’t changed that much.

But you know better than anyone that if we read you from the beginning and then fast-forwarded to more recent posts, the drastic change is evident.

I’m pretty much an entirely different person from who I was when I started you.

And it’s the years between 2007 and 2012 that changed everything.

And, I suppose, you have changed as I’ve changed, from a place to vent and process things to a place where I wrote down observations about the world around me that didn’t seem to include me to an outlet for all my insecurities and frustrations around moving and figuring out what the hell to do with my life to a catalog of all the work I’ve done in the field I discovered to a place to write about all the important pop culture events that I have paid attention to and finally to a silly retelling of how the job I’m doing now is affecting and changing me, daily and swiftly.

Who knows what my world will be like in the next five years?

(Got any predictions?)

Happy 5th birthday, dear [clever title]!

Thanks for being exactly what I’ve needed for five years.

You’ve kept me sane, you’ve made me more confident, you’ve introduced me to new people, you’ve reconnected me with people I knew in a past life, you’ve been a kind, gentle place to cry and a fun, always willing place to have a laugh.

You are and have always been wholly accepting of who I am and who I’ve become.

I wish you many more years of full, creative life, and here’s to the commemorative post I’ll write in 2017, when we’re 10!

Love your faithful friend,

Annie

Overheard at Work, vol. XXX

2012-01-07T10:02:00.002-05:00

Not sure why I don't have very many quotes from this week. It was kind of a strange few days, with two days that we were open all day long and then a short day yesterday because of our staff holiday party...

"Fringe is back? The world is ending."--my co-worker on inspecting a teen's new purse, featuring leather fringe. I agree wholeheartedly.

Kid: Hi, Annie. Ugh, what happened to your chin?
Me: That's a pimple. What can I say?
Kid: That is a weird pimple. Looks like a zit.
Me: Thanks.

"Baby food is wicked good."--my co-worker who had included a baby food packet in his lunch. We agreed about this fact, as well.

Best of 2011

2011-12-31T10:28:00.004-05:00

BOOKS
Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg
Room by Emma Donoghue
Bossypants by Tina Fey
A Game Plan for Life by John Wooden
Eating the Dinosaur by Chuck Klosterman
I am embarrassed that I haven't read a good book since that last one. Maybe the fact that my aunt gifted me her old Kindle(!) will change that! Eep.

MOVIES
Black Swan
Blue Valentine
The King’s Speech
Mother and Child
Only When I Dance
Kick-Ass
Mary and Max
Planet B-Boy
See What I’m Saying
Bridesmaids
Crazy, Stupid Love
Tangled
50/50
Martha Marcy May Marlene
Shame

MUSIC
“Grenade” by Bruno Mars
“Raise Your Glass” and “F*ckin Perfect” from P!nk’s Greatest Hits…So Far!
21 by ADELE, especially Someone Like You
“Edge of Glory” from Born This Way by Lady Gaga
The Archandroid by Janelle Monae, especially ”Cold War”
The Suburbs by Arcade Fire
Sigh No More by Mumford & Sons
4 by Beyonce
“Tighten Up” from Brother by The Black Keys
“Dark Side” from Stronger by Kelly Clarkson
Ceremonials by Florence + the Machine

THEATRE
Psy at Arts Emerson
Porgy and Bess at A.R.T.
I need more theater in my life, dammit!

Thank you, as always for reading! My blog turns 5 in 10 days, so look for a big celebratory post then, if not before.

I have no idea what 2012 will bring, but hopefully, it's not the end of the world.

Happy New Year!

Kids are the Funniest!!

2011-12-30T23:15:00.002-05:00

I literally just got home after my trip to LA, where I did MANY MANY fun things with my family including, but not limited to:
Celebrating Christmas AND Hanukkah,
Eating LOTS of tasty food,
Seeing Mario Lopez in person, who is shorter than he seems on TV,
Seeing The Muppets, which I almost cried twice at,
Riding two rollercoasters and a drop ride (the latter for the first time),
Drinking tasty wine and reconnecting with my cousins,
Playing imagination games with their 5-year-old son,
Squeezing their eight-month-old son,
AND
Collecting the following quotes.

CGW, age 5: When I am a dad and I have kids, I will only wash my body on Mondays.

CGW's mom: Mommy loves CGW and Mommy loves DGW and Mommy loves Annie and Mommy loves Momma!
CGW: And Mommy loves butt and Mommy loves penis.

CGW: I don't want you to be the guy for this game because one of the guy's name is Woody but the OTHER guy's name is STINKY PETE!

CGW: I love you more than Pluto.

CGW: You can take this paper home. And maybe EWE (his cousin) will come to your house and draw.

CGW: Knock knock!
Me: Who's there?
CGW: Alligator!
Me: Alligator who?
(this repeats several times)
CGW: Knock knock!
Me: Who's there?
CGW: Monkey!
Me: Monkey who?
CGW: Monkey is swinging on your hair!
(In his defense, he explained that hair is like vines. Pretty amazing, if you think about it that way.)

CGW's mom: H, can I see your boots?
CGW: Can I see your BOOBS??

Overheard at Work, vol. XXIX

2011-12-23T19:48:00.002-05:00

So.

That was a crazy week/month/year of work.

Yes, it is true. When we all return to work in JANUARY(!), it will have been a whole year that I have been there.

My brain is fried, my body is thrashed, my sinuses are clogged, my chest is burning, and I am HOPING that I do not end up feeling sicker with my vacation mere hours away.

And, now, for the last time in 2011:

"You can't eat in here."--me, to a kid, while eating a pear. WHOOPS!

"I want some facial hair. That's all I want for Christmas."--a 15-year-old, and may all his Christmas wishes come true.

Same 15-year-old: Where can I find more tape?
Me: Upstairs in the copy room.
[minutes later, he returns with tape.]
Me: See? I told you you'd find some in there!
Him: You didn't help me at all. I had to ask Wendy!
Me: What do you mean? I said, it would be in the copy room!
Him: But you didn't tell me where!
Me: You mean, you walked into the room and didn't see tape? So you asked someone else? You expected to see, like, a pile of tape in the corner?

"Santa's creepy."--a 10-year-old during our holiday party

"WHERE'S SANTA?!?! SHOW YOURSELF!!!!"--Lateral Lisp Kid

"How come last year Santa was white and this year he's black?"--8-year-old
"Maybe there's a team of Santas!"--Me
"Maybe he got a dark tan!"--8-year-old

I am taking a wee blogging break this week, as I'm traveling to LA to be with family.

Depending on how eventful that is, you might not hear from me until the very end of the year.

Happy holidays!

Overheard at Work, vol. XXVIII

2011-12-16T22:35:00.004-05:00

I do not understand time.

How is it possible for a week to seem endless and SUPERSHORT at the same time?

This week, I:
Had my last two rehearsals for the work event I led Thursday,
Led a work event Thursday that included the FIRST-EVER play presentation,
Had super crazy anxiety about getting the stomach virus that is floating around,
Walked around the building, herding the kids, for about 5 1/2 hours today.

I am beat.

An 11-year-old processing through his homework assignment to find the correct word to fill in the blank: Dislogical? Unlogical? Fartlogical?

A 9-year-old, commenting on how she'd be able to play a game where you improvise ways to "please the queen" if a boy was sitting in as "King": How do you make a boy happy?
I laughed and told her I HAD NO IDEA!

Another 9-year-old's offerings to said "King": I will give you Beyonce, Shakira, and belly dancers.
Oy.

Me to a 12-year-old: I need you to be in the next play!
Him: I think I already get enough publicity.

Colleague: I wish I was a soccer ball so I could hit kids in the face and not get in trouble.
I promise, she loves her job.

Overheard at Work, vol. XXVII

2011-12-09T20:33:00.004-05:00

Dude.

Where is the month going? Two more weeks of work left and then I'm on my first vacation in months AND looking ahead to my YEAR ANNIVERSARY of starting my job.

WHAT??

11-year-old girl improvising ice cream flavors for a scene: Raspberry, strawberry, coconut, pumpkin, ..., sedimentary rock...

12-year-old: You're dumb nice.
Teen: What?
12-year-old: It means mad nice!

9-year-old girl singing (to the tune of "It's Raining Men"): Thank God it's Friday! Hallelujah, thank God it's Friday!

While playing a story-telling game prompted by images on cards, the first card revealed a woman in a car. The girl playing started the story, "A woman sat in traffic." The second card revealed movie seats and a screen that said "The End."
And, thus, the game ended.

P.S. This is my 600th post. [insert victory music here]

Overheard at Work, vol. XXVI

2011-12-02T21:41:00.002-05:00

Well, THIS week flew by! By the time it was Wednesday, I was so thrown off that I thought it was still Tuesday. I am very happy it's the weekend, but I have a feeling the rest of this year is going to go by in a flash.

"Swongdong. It means pickled brain in Chinese."--11-year-old boy. Except I'm pretty sure that word doesn't mean anything in Chinese.

Later that afternoon, the same kid asked outloud, "Where's my bag?" and when he noticed it next to him, he said, "There you are, you little scamp!"

Me [helping a kid with his homework]: I don't know the answer.
9-year-old boy: Me neither! Oh my god! It's like we're sisters!

"My dad lives in a single-family home, but he acts very, very homeless."--a 12-year-old girl, after explaining that we didn't want to know where her father had found her beanie.

Overheard at Work, vol. XXV

2011-11-23T20:19:00.002-05:00

A short week means not as many quotes. So THANKFUL for a few days' break!

"Tinsel would be a good safety word."--a co-worker's random inappropriateness at a staff check-in.

"I'm ELMO! Minus the L. I'm EMO!"--8-year-old, showing his cleverness AND spelling skills.

"He helped me once and I got the whole paper wrong."--a 12-year-old describing the risks of having a teenager help her.

"Is there chorus today?"--an 8-year-old, inquiring about drama class. They never seem to remember what it is actually called.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Overheard at Work, vol. XXIV

2011-11-18T22:29:00.003-05:00

I swear there was something in the air this week. Maybe it's the days leading up to a holiday break or the holidays in general or the weather changing or the fact that yesterday two people were out and, today, three people were.

BUT THIS WEEK WAS BANANAS!!

As I have said only a handful of times since being hired, these were some "double shot of vodka on ice at the end of the day" days.

8-year-old brat: Is that your phone?
Me: Yep.
8-year-old brat(regarding it): You know. I have a better phone than you. And it's $400.

10-year-old girl, attempting to help her friend with her homework: Usually a sad story means someone dies at the end.

I was talking to a senior in HS about how I was about to swear because I was so frustrated, and that I was in fact, a potty mouth. When he couldn't fathom it, I reminded him I was from New York, and he said: "Mother Annie turns into New York Pirate."

Me to a teen getting some data entry done at a desk near mine: You can turn on the iTunes radio, since you'll be here for a while.
Him: I could just sing slave songs instead.

Other highlights of the week included:
Spontaneously performing a slow-motion hug with an 8-year-old upon her arrival;
My new mentee calling me a "freak." But, like. In a good way.

Overheard at Work, vol. XXIII

2011-11-11T19:36:00.002-05:00

This is an abbreviated post because I spent Wednesday at home sick in bed and Thursday and Friday at a community arts educators conference which finishes up tomorrow afternoon...

"Can you tell Nicholas to stop chasing us? He's trying to hump us!"--an unexpected plea from an 8-year-old boy.

Me to our intern: Do you listen to music while you work?
Him: Not usually.
Me: Nothing lyric-heavy...
Him: Like jazz?
Me: Yeah, or Enya.
Him: Oh, that's in the movie Gladiator, right?
Me: [laughing] I was about to tell you I did my math teacher to that music.
[Disclaimer: I MEANT MATH HOMEWORK!]

"I bet you looked like Chips and Poncho!"--my colleague, imagining our art teacher blowing his hair out. I died. She meant Ponch.

"Grinding is nothing new."--a guest hip-hop artist, after his amazing keynote speech about teenagers, answering a question from the audience of community educators, "What is grinding all about anyway?"

Overheard at Work, vol. XXII

2011-11-05T10:36:00.002-04:00

During scenework on bullying, in which a girl is teased for the food she's eating, a 7th grader asked, "What if she's eating, like, a nose?"

"The chicks dig it."--a HS senior, about his teeny tiny phone.

Me: So, what's new?
Sophomore boy: I'm pregnant.
Me: Wow! That really would be news! Are you a lady?
Sophomore boy: Sometimes.

12-year-old Chinese girl, working on her Civics HW, for which she had to write 10 facts she knew about USA: In New York, they have that thing. [puts her hand up]
Me: I have no idea.
Girl: The woman. In the ocean.
Me: Oh! The Statue of Liberty!

Co-worker A: [clenching his teeth before the kids arrived] Grant me the serenity!

Co-worker B: When I was little, I used to think Bill Clinton was Jesus. He would come on the TV and my mom would get really excited, and I was like, "Is that Jesus?"

Girl A: I need to go ask him something.
Me: [letting her in to the closed Ed Center and keeping her friends out]
Girl B: Annie!
Me: She had a question!
Girl B: But I'm with her all the time!

I am a Pop Culture Genius, vol. XVII: a Very Special Music Video Edition

2011-10-30T19:50:00.003-04:00

For your information, this is all Netflix's fault.

I discovered that Felicity is on Instant Watch.

This is a show that I wasn't only devoted to while it was actually airing (it was really a one-two punch with Dawson's Creek) but that I became obsessed with again during the summer before I moved to New York, when S and I would watch it at her parents' house every afternoon.

So, yesterday, I watched a couple episodes, and then did some research on Keri Russell.

Turns out, she was in the Bon Jovi music video for their song "Always," which was a little factoid I did not recall.

Let's investigate.

Wait.

What?

I do not remember that video being like that at all.

Keri Russell, Carla Gugino, that guy with the feminine jawline and broken nose, AND Colin from 90210??

So, let me get this straight.

The video opens in Mexico(?) where Girly Jawline is mooning over a photo. He fondly remembers taking dirty pictures and videos of his GF Carla Gugino, which her roommate, Felicity, discovers. Then, he makes bedroom eyes at FELICITY and Carla discovers them making their own homemade porn. (And, you KNOW that Felicity is wearing a green push-up bra because that girl's boobies are TINY in real life.)

Carla is discovered, crying, in an alley by Colin, who whisks her away to his artist's loft and paints her shirtless.

But the painting only makes Carla miss Girly Jawline, so she CALLS him and invites him over to Colin's house, shows him the painting of her, and he throws audio-visual equipment around and stabs the painting to shreds, at which point, Carla is DUNZO!

She exits, crying, in her red lacy nighty and black bra.

And Girly Jawline BLOWS UP THE JOINT and is deported to Mexico?

But, wait! Is Carla THERE?

Alas, no, it is just Girly Jawline's fantasy.

Meanwhile, Jon Bon Jovi sings his little heart out showing off some SERIOUS heavage.

I bet all those actors are mortified that this exists (except for the jawline guy and Colin--they haven't been doing much of note lately), but I think it exemplifies precisely everything that is important to understand about 1994.

Overheard at Work, vol. XXI

2011-10-29T09:38:00.003-04:00

During acting class, in which the kids were tasked with presenting "as ifs" for established scenes, the girls were acting out a scene on an airplane during which a customer needs peanuts and tea from her British flight attendant: "Now, do the scene as if you are at a circus party with hot dudes with no shirts."

The rest of the quotes came last night, during our Halloween Family Night.

This is what I was wearing: Old Chuck Taylor sneakers, two pairs of striped socks scrunched down, bright blue tights, a denim skirt and turquoise belt, a stretchy black long sleeve shirt tucked into my skirt (a la bodysuits), a bright red poncho, ONE blue circle earring, and my hair in a sideways ponytail with a gold scrunchy.

Exactly two young people figured out I was from the 80s.

Here were the other guesses:
Three votes for "schoolgirl,"
Two votes for Punky Brewster,
Two votes for Red Riding Hood,
One vote for Exercise Barbie,
and one vote for a Smurf.

Also, one kid just straight up asked what I would say if she said I looked ugly.

I am a Pop Culture Genius, vol. XVI

2011-10-24T22:20:00.004-04:00

I don't really recall watching The Wonder Years when it was airing, although now that I kill time once in a while by watching it on Netflix, every episode seems familiar.

I don't know if that's because it's so ingrained in my generation's pop culture knowledge or because I actually watched the show from when I was 5 until I was 10 and I just don't have any super clear memories of those times.

In either case, it's a brand new experience to watch these episodes now. With my own experiences of puberty and struggles with my parents and figuring out dating. And my vague understanding of the 60's and 70's.

And my brain just exploded because, in one episode, Karen's boyfriend, Louis, is played by him.

IMDB informs me that this was only his second credit AND that, on the show, he is credited as "Jack Corbett."

BUT. THAT. IS. AIDAN!

Dude has made a long career out of kissing woman on the small screen.

And what lucky women they are.

Overheard at Work, vol. XX

2011-10-22T08:16:00.002-04:00

Girl: Annie, your face is pink.
Me: Like I'm allergic? Am I hot?
Girl: No, it's nice. Like Santa Claus.--an exchange over homework with one of my favorite 11-year-olds. I proceeded to utterly fail at helping her with her math homework.

Me: Do you ladies go to dance class?
Girl: No, they go to gymnastics. I stay home, being lonely.

Girl: I just want you to know that I don't celebrate Halloween.
Me: That's OK.
Girl: Halloween is the Devil's holiday, and God hates it his whole life.
...errrr, OK...

Senior in HS: I like poetry.
This was after I helped him analyze ancient Chinese poems for an hour. Before the hour started, he said something along the lines of, "I hate this, this doesn't make any sense." The next day, he wrote incredibly poetic aphorisms and even taught me what aphorisms are.

"Get your funny on!"--an 11-year-old's encouraging words to his classmates in the 6th grade drama class I observed this week.

"Stupid and retarded/Oops, I farted."--a 12-year-old's HILARIOUS and inappropriate couplet, I heard just as I was leaving work yesterday.

Kids are so funny.

I am a Pop Culture Genius: vol. XV

2011-10-17T21:42:00.002-04:00

I find Michael C. Hall strangely sexy, despite his Cro-Magnon brow.

He is a super awesome song-and-dance man, for those of you who didn't know.

And on Dexter he wears the hell out of both pastel polos and Henleys.

ANYWAY.

I got into Dexter during my unemployment and have been watching fairly loyally since then.

I knew the big shocker at the end of season 4 before I watched it. Was as bored as everyone else with Julia Stiles' performance last season. And, so far, am satisfied with this season.

Last night's episode featured Tobey from Dawson's Creek.

On Dawson's Creek, he played Jack McPhee's abrasive boyfriend. The one he shared network television kisses with.

On Dexter, he played the random victim of creepy Colin Hanks and creepier Edward James Olmos's Doomsday Killers, whose (SPOILER) head gets chopped off and put on mannequin bodies sent through the city on horses.

I suppose a man's got to pay the bills.

Overheard at Work, vol. XIX

2011-10-15T08:44:00.003-04:00

This is my attempt to get back in the groove.

My job is still SUPER AWESOME, but let's just say the honeymoon is over.

Sometimes it's draining and frustrating and hard.

And then funny things happen and I realize I'm getting paid to help kids with homework and play Mancala.

"She may be small! But she's got a big brain!"--a 9-year-old girl about a friend she was doing homework with.

Me: Are you being rude?
Kid: No. What?
Me: I hear a disrespectful tone. You're all attitude-y.
(Pause)
Kid: I always sound like that.

Late yesterday, my lateral lisp kid stopped me on the stairs because he wanted to be interviewed to be a Peer Leader. Our Peer Leaders are teens who get hired as Junior Staff to help around the building. He is eight. But I agreed to help my colleague give him an interview. It went something like this. (Keep in mind that all his s's are sh's):

Us: Tell us about yourself.
Him: I like swimming, ship rides, and snowboarding. I'm a video gamer.
Us: What are your strengths?
Him: Technology. Confidence and strength.
Us: What would you like to be better at?
Him: Technology. I don't know everything.
Us: When is a time you have had to solve a problem?
Him: My baby cousin raised my hand once and my teacher yelled at me.
Us: What did you learn from that?
Him: Discipline.
Us: Where would you like to work?
Him: In the tech lab, gamesroom, or music room.
Us: What do you think it would be like to work with older kids?
Him: I think it would be great for me.
Us: Why?
Him: Meeting new people is fun.

I'd totally hire him. That was honestly a better, more thoughtful interview than some of the teen ones.

Dude.

2011-10-05T21:10:00.000-04:00

I AM SO SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I POSTED LAST.

LOTS OF THINGS HAVE BEEN HAPPENING, BUT MOSTLY

1. I GOT THE FLU and
2. MY HARD DRIVE CRASHED.

FIVE DAYS IN BED SOLVED THE FIRST PROBLEM, AND BEST BUY SAVED ALL MY SHIT AND NOW I AM RECONNECTED TO THE WORLD.SO THAT SOLVES THE SECOND PROBLEM.

I'M BACK NOW.

AND WRITING IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I MISSED YOU SO!

I will try to be better about posting regularly. I think it keeps me sane.

To My Cousin's Baby, on Her First Birthday

2011-09-13T21:09:00.000-04:00

Dear E.W.E.,

It was exactly a year ago that your mom’s water broke while she was sitting next to me on the couch and your folks rushed to the hospital.

I held you when you were 12 hours old. And I cried the whole time.

I couldn’t believe you were here. That you were mewing and that I could comfort you so you’d stop.

I couldn’t believe when you stopped being kind of blobby, when you could hold your head up, and began to grab for things.

Or when you started reaching for me because you knew who I was.

I couldn’t believe it when you started really smiling and laughing.

Or when you started eating real food.

Or when your red hair started coming in. Or your long, striking eye lashes.

I couldn’t believe it when you started making lots of noise, which turned into words. When you clearly said “ball” or learned to say “bubble.”

I couldn’t believe it when you started to wave and blow kisses and push with strength and shrug.

I cannot believe what an amazing dancer you are.

Or how fast you learn.

I can’t believe how fast a year has gone. How much my life has changed since you were born. How fast you have grown. How MUCH you have grown.

I can’t wait until you start calling me by name. And when you start hugging me back.

I can’t wait to have conversations with you about your doggy and your mommy and your favorite book and your homework and boys and college and your career.

You are JUST about to start walking and talking.

Which means you are about to take over the world.

It is yours.

I love you.

Happy birthday.

Love,
Auntie Pretzel

It was just another Tuesday.

2011-09-10T21:40:00.001-04:00

It was the beginning of my first semester as a freshman at UC Berkeley.

I had an 8 AM class, so I got up early, got ready, ate breakfast, and walked the four or five blocks to campus.

I did notice it was eerily quiet out but chalked that up to it being early.

I passed a young woman talking on her cell phone, saying something like, “I can’t believe they flew into the buildings!” And I thought, “Wow, that sounds serious.”

My class that morning was in a relatively large lecture hall, and everyone was chattering, though I don’t think it was a full class.

I stayed fairly blissfully ignorant, getting my books and notes out, until my professor, an older Japanese man, came into the hall.

He told us that planes had hit the World Trade Center and that he had been unable to reach anyone in New York City. In fact, he said there weren’t even busy signals on the other end when he called.

I thought I was going to pass out, picturing a large gaping hole where the city that had been the only home I knew used to be.

At that point, my father, stepmother, and two cousins all lived there.

As far as I knew, the city had gone down in an explosion and my family had gone with it.

I quickly exited the classroom and returned to my dorm room, determined to find out what had happened to my family members in New York.

I reached my cousins first, who were living in Brooklyn and could not see across the street for all the ash that was floating from across the water.

I found my dad online. He had decided in the early morning that day not to go do to a meeting downtown.

My aunt in Oakland called me, reminding me that her husband, my dad’s brother, was in New York for a gig with his band. Staying at the WTC Marriott.

She couldn’t reach him, he had left her a message saying that something had happened to the hotel and she’d “probably hear about it on the news.” She told me that she was OK but that if she was too freaked out, she would come and get me to be with her.

I got off the phone and sobbed so hard people could hear me downstairs.

I stayed on the internet with my dad most of the day, checking in, hearing updates about the city, wondering where my uncle was.

Feeling like this place that had been my home for most of my life was a place I didn’t know anymore. Was a place I might never know again.

I missed it.

I felt more like a New Yorker and less like a New Yorker than I had ever felt.

Late in the afternoon, I got a message from my dad that my uncle had just walked in to his apartment.

He had evacuated the hotel and spent the day walking all the way from downtown to West 82nd and Central Park.

I cannot tell my uncle’s story of that, of course, though I have asked him many things and he has told me many things that I find unfathomable.

I called my aunt immediately and was the one who told her her husband was OK.

***
I lived in New York City again several years later, and I gained an adult perspective of the city, late in its healing phase.

The train creaking past and never stopping at Cortlandt Street station, the barricades around Ground Zero, the phantom lights that went up every year, in tribute.

Of my twenty-eight years, I have spent seventeen of them as a New Yorker.

It is absolutely my hometown, a part of my identity I cannot deny, a part I cherish, even.

I love it and I hate it.

But I do miss it.

And I will never forget how far away and how intensely close I felt to it on September 11, 2001.

Good thing we crack ourselves up.

2011-09-06T21:48:00.002-04:00

C: did you listen to those songs

me: yes

C: nothing?

me: eh

C: I'm going through an R&B phase

me: i bought the beyonce album
speaking of r&b

C: no
I mean good R&B
hey ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh
zginnnnnnnnnnngggggggg

me: HA
yeah
it's pop
but it's also interesting
this album's all african and shit

C: like you

me: LOL
no

C: Africannie

me: ooh
i like it
africannie: the new musical by the makers of ANNIE and THE LION KING

C: hahahahaha
lolzy mclolz

me: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh zi BEN YA baba deeee seee babaaaaaaa
sitty boooom wen ya baaaaa wen ya baaaaaaa

C: I just searched the internet for an image of a black Annie Warbucks

Things That Have Happened Since I Posted Last

2011-08-26T20:05:00.004-04:00

1. I survived a particularly exhausting week of work right before an awesome vacation.

2. I traveled across the country where I

a. ate tasty taco truck food at 2 AM (5 AM my time) after a 9-hour day and 6-hour flight

b. had a super tasty picnic in the park by Lake Merritt where geese began to encircle us like a Hitchcock film

c. helped the bride with important last minute tasks like seating lists and copies of directions

d. saw friends I've known for 10 years, drank wine, and giggled late into the night

e. got an updo that took 2 hours to make

f. donned a superfabulous purple one-shouldered dress

g. literally hiked through the woods to get to the stunning redwood photo site

h. read part of a poem in one of the most beautiful weddings at one of the most beautiful locales on one of the most beautiful days of weather ever

i. made a speech that made the bride and party cry and laugh at the just the right times

j. did NOT get drunk and danced for about 3 1/2 hours until late into the evening (seriously, first on the dance floor)

k. traveled to Los Angeles where I played for three days with a 5 year old, his 4 month old brother, and his two amazing mommies.

3. I returned to work after my vacation and began a serious search for a new visual art instructor, which has required several 1/2 hour phone interviews and, so far, three over-two-hour long interviews and demos.

4. At the same time, I put up the first play ever to be performed at work, with 10 weeks of sporadic attendance from the kids and three hours in this last week of rehearsal/costume making/set dressing.

5. I survived our end-of-summer event, which involved running a Spelling Bee activity in the morning, organizing the afternoon, two showings of the play, a flash mob dance to this song, and the summer award winners throwing pies of whipped cream into staff members' faces (not mine).

Now I am bracing myself for Hurricane Irene, which really means I am going to sleep early with no plans of leaving my bed this weekend except to play games with my cousin and maybe do my laundry.

Maybe.

Emma Stone and Christina Hendricks aren't natural redheads either.

2011-08-06T18:41:00.006-04:00

Before

Even the expression says, "Something is afoot here. I hope it isn't lice."

After

3 1/2 hours later, I am a new woman.

And newly addicted to getting my hair professionally dyed.

Because I'm worth it!

Overheard at Work, vol. XVIII

2011-08-05T19:48:00.004-04:00

Thisjobishard.

Five weeks into summer and I am so tired and ready for my vacation next week.

Some days, it literally feels like the walls of the place are going to come crumbling down.

Good thing these kids are so fucking funny.

It means I can leave on a Friday night, after a rough week, and remember exactly how much I love my job.

"I have hard thingies."--a nine-year-old boy, referring to the resilience of his testicles, as his friend shot Bay Blades(?) at them.

"I'm bringing Sesame Street swag back."--a fourteen-year-old peer leader, commenting on his trendsetting Elmo shirt.

"You look ugly without your glasses!"--an eight-year-old boy, being brutally honest as I rubbed my eyes one day. When I protested, he said, "I'm sorry. I just had to say that!"

"She called me stinks!"--a peer leader, pouting after I told her she stunk at Hangman.

"What's your favorite thing to draw?"--an eight-year-old girl to an eight-year old boy, who was uninspired in Creative Writing and Drawing.
"Nothing...GUNS!"--his response.

I am a Pop Culture Genius: vol. XIV

2011-07-31T08:47:00.002-04:00

You'd think I have a lot of time on my hands, what with the insistent Netflix watching. Part of it is that it's summer, and I'm really not watching a ton of network television.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I watched most of the first season of Gene Simmons's Family Jewels last weekend.

I was looking for another mindless half-hour reality show to watch but happened upon Ally McBeal this weekend.

Remember Season 4? When Robert Downey, Jr. starred in his most delicious role ever, as Larry Paul? Remember how he was a season regular but then got fired mid-season because he got arrested? Yeah.

It's funny to be watching a show that I forgot is totally based in Boston, now that I live in Boston.

Also, interesting to be watching Portia de Rossi on the show, now that I know she was really suffering from anorexia at the time. (I totally ordered her book last night, after watching a few episodes.)

Now, it's the part of the season when Peter MacNichol's silly little character, John Cage, is dating the Anne Heche character that has Tourette's. I remember (10 years ago, gulp!) watching these episodes with my folks.

But now, during a scene that happens at the school Heche's character works at, I recognize a little boy and immediately know him as Shane from Weeds. He was probably 6 at the time of filming, but the big eyes totally gave him away.

By the way, I intend on only watching the rest of the episodes in the season with Downey, Jr. in them.

This show's kind of annoying aside from him.

A Litany of Insecurities This Outbreak Hath Wrought

2011-07-29T22:34:00.003-04:00

1. My hair is so gray!

I used to dye my hair to rebel. It was the one thing my mom OK'd when I was in middle school, and when she told me it was OK to dye my hair, I went a little further than I imagined she was comfortable with: bright red, blonde, pink! At about 20, I stopped. And then, at 25, started again because, dude, there were so many grays. Before the Incident That Shall Not Be Named last week, I was planning on cutting and dyeing it (many months overdue) with several days to go before the big wedding in August, to let the hair shock subside. Now, almost a week later, I have been forced to stare at my locks in dismay and realize, if I stop dyeing my hair now, my whole head will be dark brown with a large side of gray.

2. I feel like an oily adolescent.

Full disclosure, I have oily skin and hair to begin with. I'm one of those, if I don't wash my hair within two to three days, it looks like I've been sweating, or that I've just stepped out of a brief rainshower. Except grosser. The women who treated me recommended that EVERYONE only wash their hair about twice a week. I feel like I would have to do some serious updo research before being able to do that without looking like I'm just dirty.

On top of that, part of my aftercare treatment is oiling my scalp (to suffocate any microscopic eggs (gag!)) and, because of my schedule, I've been showering, shampooing, conditioning, and oiling every night, which means a good 24 hours of an oily scalp on an already oily scalp. (Not to mention that, even though my scalp is still sore, I'm pulling my hair back to sleep at night because the oil from my hair will make my back break out.)

It has taken me four days of this to perfect the oily-scalp hairdo: tight bun with a clip to hold the bangs back. Otherwise, by the time I get to work, I'm already feeling hideous. And then, of course, I work with brutally honest kids who ask me questions like, "Why is your hair wet?" as I walk in the door.

Sigh.

3. I am not as over my obsessive compulsive disorder as I might have liked.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesdays nights, I barely slept. I could not turn my brain off: how much laundry did I have to do? What had my hair touched? Which things did I have to boil versus dry? How many staff shirts do I have that aren't contaminated? When can I put the laundry I've hung to dry back in my drawers? When can I start using my hamper again? When can I use the dryer? What time do I need to get home to have time to do all of this? How long will my shower routine take me?

Happy to have tomorrow completely off, even though I still have probably three loads of laundry and my hair routine to perform.

I'll be done with aftercare on Thursday.

Maybe then, I'll feel like myself again.

Do I have a story for you!

2011-07-25T22:40:00.002-04:00

It all started when I sauntered into my hair salon, aching and ready for a haircut. I haven't gotten one since probably March, and my bangs are no longer bangs and my ends are FRIED. Not to mention that my hair is way past my shoulders.

I was tended to about 20 minutes after my appointment time, chatted up the woman who washed my dirty hair, and sat in the chair, ready for sweepy, sexy bangs I can rock at the wedding I'm in in August.

My stylist combed my hair and suddenly leaned down next to me.

"You work with kids, right?" she asked.

"Yep!" I responded, proudly. She looked closely at my hair. "Why? Because I have so much gray hair?"

"No," she said. "Don't freak out."

"Uh oh."

"Don't freak out. You have lice."

My heart dropped, mostly out of embarrassment. Panic set in, and I apologized profusely as my stylist gave me advice on shampooing my head and calling a nitpicker (gag). She explained that she couldn't cut my hair, as she left me with my limp, wet, infested locks and shuffled me out the door. But she assured me that after I called a nitpicker (gag!), I'd be able to return to get sexy, sweepy bangs.

I threw my hair up into a tight, wet bun and nearly ran to CVS, feeling dirty, embarrassed, and annoyed.

I spent the rest of Saturday hiding, trying to figure out how to tell everyone I needed to tell, and researching lice.

I know that they actually love clean, dry hair. That they can't cling to African American hair because the hair shaft is different. That they have three stages of life and go through them every 10-40 days.

I felt like I had just seen blood coming from a cut I didn't even know was there and now was throbbing in pain.

I slept in infested sheets for two days, paralyzed by not knowing what to do first.

Everything I read on the internet assured me that the pesticide shampoos don't work anymore, so I didn't do one.

I called several nitpicking services, hoping to get things handled as soon as possible, but the fastest they could get me someone was a tentative evening slot on Sunday.

By Sunday morning, the embarrassment had subsided and I was just kind of pissed and feeling gross. I realized my job couldn't be mad at me since I definitely got it there. I didn't know how bad my case was, and I didn't really want to know. Ignorance felt like itchy, scabby bliss.

Now that I sort of knew what I was looking for, I began to see the small nits when I scratched and even saw a live louse or two. (Gag.)

I spent most of Sunday watching Gene Simmons' Family Jewels (gag) on Netflix and feeling dirty. Counting down the minutes until the technicians would come to take care of me. Told my bosses who were both awesome about it and tried to forget my state, scratching all the while.

4 PM and 5 PM came and went, and I got a call from the owner of the treatment center who told me that the woman who was coming to take care of me had had car trouble and wouldn't be able to make it. The soonest they'd be able to send someone would be 3 PM Monday.

Today, I got a call at 10 to 3 saying they'd make it by 4. It crossed my mind a couple times that the whole company was a hoax, but a little after 4, two women came armed with a magnifying light, special shampoos, clips, baking soda, conditioners, and oils.

Here's how the process went:

1. I sat in my chair as they inspected me and deciphered that I had probably had lice for weeks. They oohed and aahed over the amount of nits at the base of my head.

2. They dosed my head with lice treatment shampoo that smelled like peppermint and soothed my itchy scalp, and I kept it on for 30 minutes, while I offered the women take-out menus because they had not eaten all day, having come straight from a screening at a camp in Weston.

3. Got my shampoo rinsed and then was doused with a concoction of baking soda and conditioner, which they combed through my head 1/8-inch sections at a time, removing tons of eggs and many lice in various stages of life. I was both horrified and fascinated. This process started at 5:30 PM and ended at 9:30 PM. (This proves not only their thoroughness but also that I had a fairly bad case.) By 8:45, I was starving and ready to burst into tears, my scalp screaming from the constant pulling on it. After downing a PB&J, I got my second wind and made it through the last 1/4 of my head. We spent the four hours watching Food Network and VH1. Highlights included most of the Mary J. Blige: Behind the Music and a couple episodes of Sex and the City.

4. The baking soda and conditioner were thoroughly rinsed and they took another inspection of my head, exclaiming at the way my scalp shined.

5. The final step was the application of some oil treatment to the scalp, to suffocate any microscopic eggs.

6. They were out of the house by 10 PM, at which point, I sprayed down my mattress, couch, and rugs, swept my house, scrubbed my desk and tables, took all the trash out, and stripped and remade my bed.

I have a 10-day aftercare program, which will still give me a full week to get a haircut before I go to California in August.

I cannot imagine dealing with this alone. Nitpickers are the only way to go these days, it seems.

I am thoroughly physically and emotionally exhausted and vow to keep my hair up and to keep my hugs from being too tight at work.

Who gets lice these days?

Serves me right for loving my job so much.

Overheard at Work, vol. XVII

2011-07-22T19:34:00.003-04:00

I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR AIR CONDITIONING AT WORK!

It was over 80 degrees before 8:00 AM today and, now, after 7:30 PM, it's still 100 degrees out. (And 86 degrees in my house.)

"Wow. I've never seen a grown woman do a cartwheel."--an 8-year-old, after I proved I've still got it.

Me, to a teen: How's the internship going?
Teen: Good.
Me: Working hard?
Teen: Yes!
Me: When I did administrative work, my hands used to be covered in papercuts.
Teen: Oh. Well, I'm not working THAT hard!

"Prepare to DIE!"--an 8-year-old, playing Hospital Tag, where you have to tag people on each arm and leg before they "die" and are out.

"You have the feet of a goddess."--my peer leader, to the 8-year-old boy who was walking on his back.

"I'm related to him."--with weary disappointment, a 10-year-old girl, in response to her 8-year-old brother completely ignoring my greeting.

Overheard at Work, vol. XVI

2011-07-15T19:04:00.003-04:00

ZOMG, it's been SO LONG since my last "Overheard" post!

We are two weeks into our summer program. I am teaching three hours each morning with the (sporadic) assistance of a 14-year-old peer leader who was assigned to me slightly begrudgingly. I do everything from Boalian Image Theatre with 11-year-old girls to playing tag games for over an hour with 9-year-old boys and lots of things in between. In the afternoons, I monitor the building and try to get administrative work done...I feel like I've been at work pretty much non-stop since the 4th of July.

BUTIMNOTCOMPLAINING!

"I'm tired of seeing the same water bottle since 1964!"--a teen, noting and putting down my sweet water bottle that I am never without.

[While playing Categories, a teen kept blathering and commenting and refusing to listen and gloating. I suggested the final category.]
Me: OK, the category is states!
Teen: Canada!

[As I patted my peer leader affectionately on the arm]
PL: Patting me on the back makes me fart!
Me: I'm not patting you on the back!
PL: Yeah, but it's still going to make me fart.
[As I crossed the room away from him, he let a big one rip.]

8th Annual "Birthday Extravaganza"

2011-07-10T11:34:00.010-04:00

S and I have been celebrating our birthdays together since 2004, when we threw a three-day 21st birthday bash that broke records in alcohol consumption and sleep deprivation. When I was apartment hunting between my sophomore and junior years in college, I sent out probably 12 Craigslist inquiries. The only person who responded was S, whom I had met several times because she was involved in the student-theatre group I worked with.

I guess you could say Craigslist brought us together.

We've celebrated together every June 21-23 since.

This year, however, with my work schedule and her moving mid-June, we couldn't be together on our birthdays proper.

I had the idea that, since we were both so busy and couldn't venture either North or South, to be together, that we should figure out the geographical midway point.

Turns out, it's basically Hartford, CT.

So, we agreed to meet there for the day. We'd have a boozy lunch, spend some time in a park, and see some sights, then head back to our respective homes.

I woke up around 7:30 to make some breakfast and head to South Station for my 9:30 bus ride. Peter Pan to Hartford on a random Saturday in July is totally the way to travel. There were probably 15 people on my bus, both ways, and everything ran exactly on time to the minute.

I got there a few minutes before S and went searching for a restroom in Union Station. I followed a long line of men to a corner and figured the women's room was somewhere else, so I entered the lobby:

Empty. No benches.

I was confused but headed back to the bus terminal and finally found the bathroom.

When S got off her bus, I showed her how odd the lobby was and then we stood on a corner to figure out our destination for lunch.

Agave Grill ended up being a pretty OK spot. Tasty if too-sweet drinks, OK salad, and actually really good nachos.

Full of drink and food, we headed toward Bushnell Park, where we sat here for about 2 1/2 hours:

That's the State Capitol, fyi.

It was perfect weather for sitting under a tree and we chatted and laughed off our drunkenness until it was time to try to track down some more food before our buses departed.

The walk was eerie. We couldn't figure out why the park wasn't packed. It was a gorgeous day, the grass was bright green and soft, there was a playground and pretty statues and historical buildings to look at:

It was like something from I Am Legend, and it just kept getting weirder.

As we walked further into downtown, we were confronted by groups of people in strange costumes and wigs. They were mixed with lots of crazy, street people, who called out to us as we wandered, hoping to find another spot to have a drink or some food.

Nothing was open.

Anywhere.

This is the food court in State House Square:

The only place open in the food court was Szechuan Express, randomly.

We turned a corner and found a crappy restaurant where S had a beer and I had a homemade rootbeer but we refused to order anything on the sticky menu.

Finally, we happened upon a small market where we got some snacks and parted once again at the bus station.

When I got back to Boston, I was unnerved by how many stands at the food court were open in South Station.

It was probably the strangest place we've ever been together, and that list includes a place called Hunk-o-Mania AND the Las Vegas Strip in June.

Also, this is what they eat in Worcester, one of my stops on the way home:

America is weird.

It is My Birthday for One More Hour

2011-06-23T22:59:00.005-04:00

I am 28.

I really like the sound of it.

This has been one of the best birthday celebrations I've had in a long while.

It started with a super chill, lovely, alcohol-filled Saturday night with some close friends (complete with devil's food and peanut butter butter creme cupcakes) and continued through the weekend with a boozy brunch and then a long evening of sushi and sake with a super close friend.

Tuesday, I was treated to dinner at my cousin's house and even got time with the baby.

I collected birthday cards from my kiddoes all week, intent on keeping them sealed until today. I also wore a dress and tiara to work because I could. When I got to work, I opened all of the cards and put them on display. There were more than this by the end of the day, plus a couple paintings.

Most touching message: Thank you Annie for all youve done. Love you!
Funniest message: Happy birthday annie write below whatever you want

My job is the best place ever to work if you're celebrating a birthday, except when the kids started telling me I was older than their mothers. Hrmm.

My coworkers got me a card and baked me cupcakes, and one of my art teachers made me this. I almost sobbed.

(I just realized you can see my tiara in this pic!)

Tonight, my friend took me out to dinner, and I came home to hundreds of email and Facebook messages.

This is the first birthday in a long time that I feel like I'm celebrating at home. I've dragged weeks-worth of luggage to New York City before heading to New Haven for the summer for what feels like years (really, it was only 2). But before that, for years and years, I was either unhappy or away from home.

Celebrating in Boston has been really nice, and I have a feeling my 28th year is going to be pretty amazing.

A List of Things I am Distracted By Even Though (or Maybe Because) I'm Exhausted

2011-06-13T20:50:00.006-04:00

1. My schedule this week.

(Which really isn't all that different except it FEELS different because I have a couple early meetings and extra things and Friday is a school holiday, which means I have a super early day.)

2. My birthday party.

(Which really isn't all that stressful because I have literally invited my closest friends and we are literally going to meet down my street AND I've already figured out what I'm wearing AND how I'm wearing my hair. I do still have to get a pedicure and call the places to tell them to expect me and my party. But really.)

3. The need to clean my room.

(I was so scattered today at work that I spent the last 45 minutes of my day cleaning my desk. I haven't really had a spare moment to do the same thing in my room, though I know it would make me feel better.)

4. Summer wardrobe.

(I spent two Sundays in a row shopping and made a few excellent purchases, but I still need summery things to wear below the waist. I have not, for the life of me, been able to find shorts or capris that don't make me look like either a sausage or a whore.)

5. The wedding I'll be in in August.

(One of my best friends is getting married this summer. Hers will be the first wedding I've been to of my friends, the first wedding I'll be IN since I was a three-year-old flower girl. And it is distracting me because I need shoes and jewelry to go with the hot purple dress I bought and I need to figure out where I'm staying when I'm in California for it and I need to write an amazing, hilarious, and touching speech befitting what I'm sure will be a ridiculously magical day.)

6. The fact that June is already almost over.

(I know it's only the 13th, but this is also the second-to-last week of afterschool programming for the year at work. Every afternoon, 350 kids show up, squirrely as fuck and ready to tear the walls down because they are so done with school. They never have homework these days and they are just as ready for a vacation as I am. The summer program starts the first week of July and we are all ready.

Not to mention that, as noted above, June ending means I am about to have a birthday. Which brings me to my last point...)

7. Turning 28.

(I learned a long time ago that the body completely regenerates every seven years. When I learned that, I looked back at my life in multiples of 7:

At 7, my mother met my stepfather. An incredibly significant moment in all of our lives. To say the least.

At 14, we moved from Brooklyn to Cambria, CA. Yet another earth-shattering, life-altering moment.

At 21, I spent the craziest, most transformative, heart-wrenching, and eye-opening summer of my life with friends in college.

All this to say, 28 is bound to be...something.)

Tips on Throwing a Successful Bachelorette Weekend in Atlantic City

2011-05-31T21:07:00.003-04:00

1. Do not take Jet Blue to New York City. There is a 100% chance your flight will be delayed.

2. On the Greyhound bus to Atlantic City with your friends, do not make eye contact with the older lady in black basketball shorts. She may eat tuna out of a can with her hands and get dangerously close to touching you with them. She may spill soda near or on you. She may come back to the seat you are sharing with her with a long trail of toilet paper in her shorts.

3. Do not underestimate the utter importance of and satisfaction provided by an ocean view from a 12th floor hotel room. Or a swiveling television set.

4. While your bachelorette friend is showering, decorate the room with streamers and caution tape that you smuggled on the bus without her noticing. Be sure not to make too much noise or she may suspect that you're up to something.

5. Drink Jameson and ginger ale out of penis straws while listening to Bachelorette playlists.

6. Wear your bridesmaid and bride-to-be tiaras all weekend, including at the beach. Be prepared for half the people who see you to wish your bachelorette a happy birthday.

7. If you plan on seeing a strip show at Hunkomania, be prepared for some crazy shit. Shit that will make you cringe and confused. Shit that may even offend you. The Flying Wallenda move is pretty impressive though.

8. Plan to go dancing at the Casbah, but make your friend do her bachelorette party scavenger hunt there. If she tells people she's about to get married, they will eagerly do everything from fake walk her down the aisle, to handing over their condoms, to escorting her into the men's room.

9. Eat brunch at My Friends Diner, just because the name is so cute.

10. Be sure to take a walk on the boardwalk and take a couple rides at the carnival. The beach stroll from the pier to Caesars is also lovely. Drinks at Continental are highly recommended, followed by hotdogs at Nathan's and salt water taffy and fudge at Fralinger's.

11. Don't forget to surprise the bachelorette with a rousing game of Pin the Macho on the Man, preferably while drinking champagne and vodka. (Note: do not spin after each sip.)

12. The Believe drag show at Resorts is amazing. Liza and Patti LaBelle are the standouts.

13. Enjoy a three-hour-long late dinner at Buddakan.

14. Don't forget to wear your tiaras on the bus ride home.

15. End the weekend at a gay-friendly establishment like Vynl in New York City, where the waiters will announce that you're "getting married in the mornin'" and may even give you free shots at lunch.

Overheard at Work, vol. XV

2011-05-26T20:48:00.003-04:00

Dude. Sorry.

I was really busy, getting through several weekends of intense work events.

And I'm writing TODAY because I'm going to Atlantic City with mah girlz this weekend for the first bachelorette party I have ever been to.

Yes, let the insanity ensue.

12-year-old asking for peppermints from me: One more?
Me: NO!
12-year-old, noting the packaging: Why? It's only 99 cents!

Me, providing clues as to what character I was playing, during a Hot Seat activity: I live on a street with lots of other characters just like me!
Kids: HOBO!
Me: I have two names!
Kid: Poopy Boy!

As we put up paintings in the gallery, we were instructed by one of my supervisors to put two T pins at the bottom of each piece, to avoid curling.
Colleague A: Two in the bottom?
Me: That sounds crowded!
Supervisor: Are you sure you don't need a hammer?
Colleague A: Two in the bottom!
Supervisor: I just didn't know you could use your thumbs that way!
Colleague A: Using my thumbs to get two in the bottom!

8-year-old: Are you a teenager, Annie?
Me: No! I'm much older than that!
8-year-old: You look like a teenager.
Me: Thanks!
8-year-old: You have pimples.

Talking to a kid about how he needs to manage his own money because his mother doesn't use the money he makes to pay his bills on time.
Me: Put it under your mattress.
Kid: I'm not a drug dealer. Or an old Jewish lady.

Overheard at Work, vol. XIV

2011-05-14T20:15:00.002-04:00

Sometimes, my job requires me to wake up before 8 AM on a Saturday, put on fancy clothes, and take a band of kids to perform at a recital hall at the Berklee College of Music, where the bassist from Aerosmith is in the audience and gives the band a standing ovation.

NBD.

"I've got a brain for smartness."--an 8-year-old with a shit-eating grin.

Colleague A, while we were putting things away in storage that was once a women's locker room: What is THAT? (pointing to the feminine products dispenser, on the side with the female symbol)
Me: A PAD!
Colleague A: OH! I thought it was like a Prince album or something!

Colleagues B and C are discussing books they like.
Colleague B: You like sci-fi?
Colleague C: I'm a HUGE fantasy dork!
Colleague B: Sea Dork? What's that?

While the band discussed that they should have all grown beards for the performance and that none of them COULD actually grow beards, the 17-year-old guitarist said, proudly, "I could grow a really thick fuzz!"

Overheard at Work, vol. XIII

2011-05-06T21:14:00.002-04:00

Um.

Hi.

So, it's really odd to be going through a similar experience at the end of this school year as I did every year I actually was IN school, but the next seven weeks are going to be very intense, and I keep thinking, "Oh, after May 21, when the music showcase and the big work fundraiser are over, I'll feel so relaxed," but I neglect to remember that I will then be committed to working every Saturday in June for RM AND apartment-hunting with all the spare time I have on the weekends.

HA!

I am so tired.

But I did just see my name on the walls of the Museum of Fine Arts, so maybe I shouldn't complain too much.

"Crystal Oceanista."--the name of a kid's stuffed seal. "She's a fashionista."

Me to a work study student on his last day: I know you'll miss ME! You'll miss the shot of estrogen I bring to this room.
17-year-old: Isn't estrogen illegal?
Kid: Estrogen is the female hormone.
17-year-old: Oh!
Kid: THIS is a high school senior.

Peer leader, referring to the rather inappropriate abbreviation "DTF": In hip-hop, it would be wrong. But in life, it would be right.

Me, to a very tall and lanky 14-year-old who had just knocked over some chairs in the art room: You are SUCH a clumsy kid!
Kid (with true exasperation): I'm just SO BIG!

Holy F, See You in June

2011-04-30T21:59:00.003-04:00

This week at work was insane. I can't even really tell you how, except that I went from grantor site visits to partnership meetings to covering core areas to finding out I'd have to cover field trips in two days that felt like ten.

We are gearing up for our annual event, and I am still working Saturdays.

All to say that I'll pretty much be zooming through the next eight weeks until the end of June, when I'll stop working my Saturday job, have gotten through the event, and will be able to breathe with a 9:30 to 5:30 schedule over the summer.

Not to mention that my roommates and I are trying to find an apartment for August.

I covered a field trip today that was actually kind of fun and easy, and I have some quotes at work from the week, but my favorite came today, courtesy of a very unique 17-year-old boy.

Kid: I am so excited to have bunk beds next year!
Me: You are EXCITED to have BUNK BEDS?
Kid: Yes, there will be so much room for activities!
Me: ...What KIND of ACTIVITIES?
Kid: [without missing a beat] Like karate! And board games!

I died.

Overheard at Work, vol. XII

2011-04-23T16:13:00.004-04:00

I decided, while watching the 100th episode of 30 Rock this week, that my job is kind of like an episode of the show: so many hilarious and absurd things happen in such a short amount of time that, by the end of the day, it's really hard to distinguish any of them...

"Excuse me! Can I get a guitar in my size?"--a 10-year-old girl beginning a week of diva-like demands. No, we do not have small guitars just for you.

"You're a Celebrity Incarceration Expert!"--a teen, after I got all 24 questions right in the "Celebrity Mugshot" on sporcle.com. (You're welcome.)

"You made Skittles juice."--a 12-year-old, after looking through my phone photos. Yes, kid, that is exactly what that is.

Kid A: Which church do you go to? What kind of music did they play? Do you know this song? [Plays a blues riff on the keyboard]
Kid B: No, it was more like Kumbaya.

"You have to connect to your vagina."--a co-worker's friend diagnosing how we could all dance like another co-worker's friend, who seemed to disconnect her hips from her body, but in an amazing way. This is the best dance advice I've ever gotten.

Bi-Monthly Update?

2011-04-16T16:43:00.006-04:00

Sorry for the radio...er...blog silence.

Here is what's been going on the last two weeks:

1. Day of previous post being just the beginning of the shittiest week I've had at work yet.

2. Boston spring taking its sweet time to get here. Today, it is 43 degrees out.

3. Me coming down with a bad cold that is STILL lingering.

4. My cousin having a baby boy on the same day that my mother celebrated her 60th birthday.

5. This past week at work being taken over by the annual singing competition we have with the kids, which went off yesterday with only a few catastrophes mid-show:

a. 12-year-old dropped out at the last minute, despite my best youth development convincing that she deserved to compete and would do great.

b. Grandmother of 10-year-old girl (whom we had cut in the 2nd round) sneak attacked me mid-show to complain that her granddaughter was a good singer and we only had 8 competitors anyway--could she perform?

c. Friends of 12-year-old girl in section A bumrushed the stage while I was making announcements, declaring that she was ready to sing now but only if she could sing with all of them. No.

6. Having a fancy dinner with an old friend while he was here on business and reminiscing about how things have changed and stayed the same.

7. An epic evening making Skittles vodka with the roommates, which we will be consuming tonight.

(Update: It is so tasty and strong. And looks really pretty in a glass mixed with 7-Up.)

I've barely had time at my desk to write quotes down, even though I'm amused by my kids and coworkers every day.

Also, there's a long, rambling, witty nostalgic post brewing in me and I just need to figure out time and space to write it.

Thanks for your patience!

Texts After a Shitty Monday

2011-04-04T23:06:00.004-04:00

SGN: You'll have time to let out a big sigh of relief soon.

me: June??

SGN: Yes. What's the worst thing that can happen. You'll go thru exhaustion, get hospitalized, take some percoset? And try again. Lather, rinse, repeat, yo.

Overheard at Work, vol. XI

2011-04-01T20:30:00.002-04:00

[At the staff meeting, as we discuss the staff fitness challenge and our personal goals.]
Colleague A: My personal goal is to lose 2 pounds.
Colleague B: I lose 5 pounds when I go to the bathroom!

Colleague 1: You told me I had the best computer here!
Colleague 2: You DID, until you downloaded all that porn!
1: That is MY personal business!

"You guys need to go to Dr. Phil!"--a teen's assessment of his friends' bickering relationship.

"Soccer and women."--a 12-year-old's assertion of what his priorities will be this year.

"I smiled so hard, I couldn't see my page."--a student in the leadership program, after she finished delivering her persuasive speech. I want some of whatever she's having.

Mr. Miyagi would be so proud.

2011-03-30T23:44:00.013-04:00

So, we all know that I'm a fan of TV.

Lately, I've been rewatching the entire series of Scrubs and it's seriously reigniting my Zach Braff crush.

I'm also a fan of reality TV but not a ridiculous, obsessive fan.

Like, I don't watch Jersey Shore, for example.

I have, however, become newly fascinated by the horrible schlock show Celebrity Apprentice but mostly because Marlee Matlin's on it and I am totally in love with her. Also, I didn't know who Lil Jon or Nene Leakes were before the show, and now I love them both.

And Dionne Warwick is a horrible person who thinks that teaching 4- and 5-year-olds about deaf people is bringing them too much diversity.

Anyway, I like to be kept informed about the other significant reality phenomena around me. So I read and occasionally watch clips of this season's Dancing with the Stars.

And it features Ralph Macchio.

You know, this guy!

Except, today, he looks like this.

Which is to say, EXACTLY THE SAME AS HE DID IN THE KARATE KID!

Like, it is freaky.

And he does this:

But, my absolute favorite part of that clip is that he named his son--WAIT FOR IT!--Daniel.

As in, Daniel-san.

SOB!

Escape

2011-03-28T22:57:00.004-04:00

I had a dream on Sunday night about two guys I once had crushes on. In my dream, they knew each other, were fighting over me, even.

It took me gradually waking up to remember that they've never met, had, in fact, been parts of entirely different eras of my life, though only a couple years apart, one at the end of middle school and one my last two years of high school.

As I remembered this, I was suddenly wide awake, trying to figure out if I was doing the math right and that it has really been ten whole years since I graduated from high school.

I still can't really believe it.

But 2011 minus 10 is, in fact, 2001, the year I graduated from high school.

I thought about this most of Sunday morning, trying to figure out where the time had gone.

Yes, I spent four years in college and two years in graduate school, but that only accounts for six years.

The other years, I sometimes feel like I lost. Mostly, I was busy being unhappy or trying to figure out where to find happiness and actively pursuing it.

So, in honor of these ten years that have passed, the last few of which have revealed certain happiness to me, I am reposting something I wrote five years ago.

I always hear that time flies even faster as we get older. If I'm already so disoriented by this passing of time, I'll be 90 before I know it!

September 2006

For some reason, I’m thinking a lot about my childhood these days. About a childhood that I sometimes look back on with regret because it was overshadowed by adult matters that left me self-reliant at an early age. I remember high school as the epitome of this contradiction. A time when I was supposed to be experimenting with booze and boys, cutting classes, rebelling against my parents but which, in reality, was a time when I took school too seriously because I knew that would be my way to escape.

I didn’t really smoke anything or drink until I was 19 and 21, respectively. In high school, I never crammed and I never cut class. I was mortified to find out that I had gotten a B in an art class once because I thought that meant I’d have no chance at getting to be the valedictorian and I felt that made my entire four years at high school a 1460 day long waste of time. I had entered high school as the “smart girl from New York,” the one who left high school with the same reading and writing skills as she had when she had entered. I knew at the end of my freshman year that I could make it to valedictorian and that B was the one chink in my academic armor. (I ended up making valedictorian, after taking one more honors class than the person who was salutatorian.)

The point is, when my mother and step-father moved us from Brooklyn, NY to Cambria, CA and I left a school of 1100 to attend a school of 400, I knew the first few days that I needed to get out as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Once I had graduated and finally moved away from Cambria, I knew I was off the hook, and I stopped being so rigid with myself. I took classes I wanted to take, and ended up deciding to major in theater, which was the first “rebellious,” independent decision I had ever made. I lived with a male roommate (we shared one room, two beds); I started smoking cigarettes, pot, and drinking (all recreationally, of course). I partied. A lot. Hosted costume balls and spontaneous dance parties in my apartment. Sometimes even sacrificed my homework for a night out with friends. And even cut classes now and then, to catch up on sleep. Or homework that hadn’t gotten done the nights before. It was a time of intense self-awareness and transformation.

Five years after graduating from high school, I try to look back at those years without too much regret. I had to make the best of it at the time because, otherwise, I probably would have killed myself. Or gotten pregnant and really been stuck there. Who knows what might have been if I had actually fallen victim to the closed mindedness of the tiny, white-washed town? But I do know that the way I saw it, as a gateway to what ended up being the most wonderful times of my life, helped me get through each day and not resent four years of my life. I can chalk it up as just a long, torturous transition. And maybe that is actually what high school means to everyone.

But Cambria has a way of swallowing people up. I always called it a black hole, and I knew that if I caved in college at some point and crawled back to Cambria with my tail between my legs, as I saw and heard many of my high school classmates do, I might never leave. And some of those kids still haven’t.

I’m not sure if it was because it was their hometown. Or because the town itself seemed to breed a certain type of non-thinking and unmoving young person. But there seems to be a particular phenomenon of people I knew moving back, after various times at colleges or not, and subsequently never leaving.

I can understand if your hometown is a big city, like San Francisco or New York, that you might move back after college. Or even go to college in the city. And maybe that’s because I did grew up in a big city, and even though I was never really an adult in New York until a year and half ago, I knew that a rural town was not where I belonged. I just don’t understand what opportunities exist for young people in a town of 6000, a town with one streetlight (actually, the second got installed my last year in college), a town where not only do you never pass anyone on the street who isn’t white but you probably know the names of everyone of those white people. And their kids.

Sometimes I imagine the scene at my ten-year high school reunion. I know some of the people there will be fatter and that those who aren’t are the ones who got some plastic surgery, and a lot of people will be married and even more will have kids (since they started in high school or right after). I even know of one of my high school classmates who has come out of the closet. (I somehow doubt she’ll make an appearance at the reunion.) I imagine sitting and drinking with the one or two people I still keep in contact with and judging all the others while I stuff my face with buffet food and congratulate myself on the 10th anniversary of my escape.

This is My Story. What's Yours?

2011-03-21T22:17:00.002-04:00

Created on youtube.com/search stories

Made even funnier/truer/sadder by the fact that even Google maps thinks Silvertone is a good place for first dates.

Also, the related videos at the end of mine include "Gay Speed Dating in Boston" and "Depression--Cooking for One."

Sigh.

Overheard at Work, vol. X

2011-03-18T20:42:00.003-04:00

Technically, this is two weeks' worth of quotes. What I'm finding is that my day passes so quickly and I see so many kids that, by the end of the week, or even the day, I don't remember what ANYONE said.

I keep threatening to keep a tally of how many people I talk to in a day of work.

I swear it would be at least 100.

"Look at you in your skinny jeans!"--my colleague
"They're JEGGINGS!"--her 10-year-old mentee

Colleague A: You want to eat this for me?
Colleague B: What? Yes!

Colleague B is also the one who suggested "Cake. Or a big hunk of cheese" as incentive for our staff fitness challenge winners.

"What's a Nate Dogg?"--our HR person, showing her age.
(May he rest.)

My Brother is a Support System Unto Himself

2011-03-14T22:26:00.001-04:00

me: i reported to the board of directors tonight
it was kinder scary

C: was it like the council in superman
GUILTY
GUILTY
GUILTY

me: um
no

C: oh
it's on netflix
you should watch it

me: it was like
hi
i'm new

C: GUILTY

me: these are my goals for the programs i'm managing
k bye

C: phantom zone!
oh
nice
how many programs do you manage?
what are they called?

me: music, art, dance, drama
eventually 5 people, including me

C: whoaaaaaaaaaaa
that's huge
each of those categories had its own god in ancient greece
that's serious

Carrie Got Dumped on a Post-It, But...

2011-03-13T23:47:00.005-04:00

That's just fiction.

In reality, getting rejected via email doesn't sting any less.

I could spin a funny, witty, cutting yarn about my recent foray into online dating.

It involves contacting someone on the stupid site, right after my PREVIOUS rejection, emailing him for less than a week, being impressed with his wit via email, meeting him at one of my favorite restaurants (his pick), being pleasantly surprised by what he looked like, feeling very awkward at paying for my own food and drink on our first meeting, spending almost 4 hours with him that night, having him walk me to my train station (out of his way), assessing the date as a solid B, while being concerned at his apparent lack of warmth, worrying about hearing from him for two days, hearing from him, making a second date, shaving and dressing up for it, deciding that I actually liked him while spending another almost 5 hours with him, walking in the rain, being totally impressed with his candor, getting kissed good night, thinking about making plans this week, sending him a text because I knew he knows people in Japan, and, basically, having him write me back that he didn't want to see me anymore.

It's not actually a funny story.

And, while I'm totally sitting here, shocked and confused, trying to make sense of whatever is going on his head, and, at the same time, understanding that I WILL NEVER KNOW, I'm also thinking...

Dude. That was a big mistake.

You are missing out.

Because I am fucking amazing.

Good luck finding whatever it is you're looking for...*cough* at 32 and after six years of online dating *cough*

In this case, I know, it's not me.

It's you.

Work, vol. X

2011-03-11T20:42:00.003-05:00

So, I collected exactly two quotes this week.

Partly, that is because I spent a fair amount of Wednesday and Thursday not really with kids. I'm running interviews, calling references, giving tours, meeting funders, and generally getting thrown to the proverbial wolves (but in a good way).

Doing lots of extra things around the Club.

Because I can.

As my job gets crazier and busier, I will collect quotes until I get a fair amount. THEN, I will share them.

I hope you don't mind.

Also, I survived my first day at this job hungover.

So there's that.

Overheard at Work, vol. IX

2011-03-04T21:22:00.002-05:00

Lots of great things happening at work. I am finally settling into what my day-to-day really looks like; I have been given a couple more responsibilities; I am feeling good about my management; I am happy about how my programming is going.

My 90-day evaluation is coming up at the beginning of April. I am both terrified and confident about it. HA!

It was a very, very busy week, so quotes are scarcer.

"They allowed me to a beer bar."--an eight-year-old announced this to me, in a whisper. She followed that with, "I didn't drink or anything. I'm not an alcoholic!"

Discussing my colleague's affinity for Justin Bieber, an eight-year-old said: "You're obsessed!" Then he urged her, "Don't be so picky!" I don't remember why, but his emphasis was hilarious. Later that day, he very confidently asked me, "Can I have a 20?"

"Maback Obama"--an eight-year-old's total mispronunciation of our President's name.

Um. Yeah, So That Happened.

2011-02-27T23:41:00.002-05:00

We should all come to terms with the fact that this will be an odd, weepy post.

I traveled to and from Raleigh, North Carolina and slept about 10 hours in the last 30. I am tired and anticipate the task of staying up to watch the Oscars telecast to be difficult this year.

This means, I’ll probably cry every few minutes.

Shit, I saw a clip of Kate Winslet’s acceptance speech in a promo for the Oscars on the plane and could hardly contain my sobs.

Last year, I got teary twelve times. Let’s see if we can top that.

And Franco and Hathaway, y’all better bring it. And by that, I mean that Anne Hathaway has to somehow convince me that she is NOT, in fact, totally overexposed these days. And she better not sing too much.

(Frankly, I’m not confident either of these will occur.)

Without further ado, some highlights and lowlights of the night, IMHO.

Classiest Pre-Show Moment:
Mark Wahlberg giving his costars and colleagues in The Fighter their due credit. What a guy!

Best Pre-Show Red Carpet Moment(s):
Natalie Portman, a vision in that incredible purple, actually made me teary. And, damn, Justin Timberlake looks good in a tux.
Hailee Steinfeld might be my best dressed of the night, though. Marisa Tomei is up there too.

Best Host Moment(s):
Franco: “You’re looking very beautiful and hip.”
Hathaway: “Thank you! You look very appealing to a younger demographic as well.”
Franco, dressed as Marilyn Monroe, saying he’d gotten a text from Charlie Sheen. BURN!
“Winter’s Bone. Rabbit Hole…How to Train Your Dragon; that’s disgusting.”

Worst Host Moment(s):
Annie, honey, remember you’re miked. No hollering at your actor friends.
Also, girl’s got fake-itude. As in, she comes across as totally disingenuous.
The bags under Franco’s eyes. That man needs a vacation.
No, really. Stop hollering.

Best Presenter Moment(s):
Kirk Douglas keeping the Supporting Actress nominees on their toes.
Justin Timberlake announcing he is Banksy.
Russell Brand and Helen Mirren. Favorites.
Cate Blanchett: “That’s gross.”
Billy Crystal. I missed him tonight, frankly. BRING. BILLY. BACK.
I love Sandra Bullock: “Javier. Hola…Jeff! Dude!”

Least Surprising Moment(s):
Aaron Sorkin winning for Adapted Screenplay of The Social Network (and what a classy, eloquent speech!)
All of the sound/effects awards Inception won.
Colin Firth as Best Actor in The King’s Speech.

Least Likely to Have Been Predicted in 1994:
Trent Reznor, winning for Best Score of The Social Network.

Most Surprising Moment(s):
No applause during the In Memoriam montage. It did always seem like a popularity contest.
Tom Hooper (The King’s Speech) winning over David Fincher (The Social Network) for Best Director.

Best Speech(es):
David Seidler, the 74-year-old winner of the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay of The King's Speech: “My father always said I would be a late bloomer.”
Academy Award winner Christian Bale(!) of The Fighter shouting out Dicky Eklund’s website. And then choking up for his wife and daughter. We knew you could do it back when you were just a Newsie.
Tom Hooper: “The moral of the story is…listen to your mother.”
Natalie Portman, winning Best Actress for Black Swan, is the most incredibly eloquent young woman. I am seriously honored to be in the same generation as her. Oof.

These are the moments that made me teary: Pretty much any time any actors watched their clips and then reacted like they couldn’t believe they where they were (probably upwards of 6); Kirk Douglas’s standing ovation; David Seidler’s shout-out to stutterers; the Score medley; ummm, Zachary Levi and Mandy Moore singing (shhhh); the commercials for Secret Millionaires (all of them); Kathryn Bigelow’s appearance (don’t ask me why; I’m tired); the clip of Francis Ford Coppola saying he was proud of “the generation that did so much”; anything Natalie Portman did or said; the finale (duh). That’s a whopping 15.

Overall? Zzzzzzzz.

Goodnight!

Overheard at Work, vol. VIII

2011-02-27T12:31:00.002-05:00

"I poo! I pee!"--lateral lisp kid, making some serious announcements.

"Why did the chicken die in the frying pan?"--mostly, I was amused because the girl telling this joke was singing it woefully.

"Behave, please!"--Art Teacher
"Shut up!"--12-year-old, clearly heeding his words.

"If a skeleton needs a drink, what do you need?...A mop!"--a 9-year-old's pretty clever joke, IMHO.

"I eat cookies and milk every night before bed."--the teen coordinator's confession to the office. Enlightening.

Colleague #1: Can I jump on that computer real fast?
Colleague #2: (in jest) No!
#1: Whatever, cuz I'm gonna do it anyway.

"It looks like I jizzed myself!"--a 12-year-old's description of himself after walking to the club in the rain. I was totally shocked and called him out on it, when he asserted he had meant the synonym for "peed." Sigh.

"It was in my way!"--a 14-year-old's assertion of why he tends to knock things over.

"Tommy! Play the drums!"--an 8-year-old, banned from the music room because he's too young, standing just outside it, directing his older brother to use the room to its fullest. Funniest thing I'd seen all week.

Just So's You Know

2011-02-23T20:54:00.002-05:00

I'll be traveling to Chapel Hill, North Carolina for the weekend, primarily to see my friend Jeff play Louis in Angels in America(!).

I'm leaving straight from work on Friday and getting home Sunday afternoon, when I will throw my clothes in the laundry, wait for groceries for the week to arrive, and write my Overheard post.

Also, expect my impressions of the Oscars that night.

I'm fighting some nasty strain of kid-spread disease, so I'm sure I'll be pretty exhausted when I get home, but you'll hear from me then, regardless.

I'll try to type through the snot I will inevitably be dripping on my keyboard.

You Know What's Hard? Dating.

2011-02-20T18:35:00.004-05:00

I got an email from someone on [the site that rhymes with Schmoe Schmay Schmupid] early last week, saying that there was a good chance we'd get along and asking if I wanted to get a drink that week.

In the interest of pursuing one of my New Year's resolutions, I decided to be a little impulsive, checked out his profile, asserting that our profiles actually looked an awful lot alike, and told him my schedule.

(My previous MO on this site has been to email until the spark between us fizzles, before we even meet. I thought I'd try something new.)

I had a very full week, as they all are these days, and found out late in the week that I'd have a late day on Friday. Changed plans with the (very flexible) aforementioned date and, eventually, found myself waiting for a train at 8:30 on a Friday night in the hurricane that had spontaneously hit Boston.

Then, the B line only took me four stops because of a previous accident, and I ended up stranded in Packard's Corner, talking to the guy on the phone, and trying to figure out where the hell I was and how I was going to get downtown.

The wind broke my umbrella, and I sloshed through melted snow to hail a cab.

The first one I flagged down pulled over, and my Jamaican cabbie asked me what I was up to that night. What I drank. Whiskey? When I needed to be picked up. And told me I was beautiful about four times.

I figured the evening had taken a turn for the better and went into the bar frazzled but optimistic, which didn't change when I sat down, told the dude the tale of my journey and ordered a glass of white wine.

Still, first dates are awkward, especially in circumstances like ours.

I tried to have a sense of humor about the whole thing but could sense I wasn't making the best first impression.

However, I left the date having made the decision that I liked him enough to want to hang out again, told him to call me and was home by 11 PM.

(His story was that he had plans to see his friends' band and had to leave my 1030. Likely.)

I woke up yesterday and, again, unlike me, emailed him to apologize for my frazzledness and to assert that I would totally hang out again.

He emailed me mere hours later to tell me that, in the interest of being straightforward, he didn't feel a connection strong enough to warrant another meeting...

I know at some point I'll appreciate his candor.

But, in the moment, it stung.

I've talked to a lot of my friends about my foray into online dating.

Most of the ones who know me the best don't think it's a good idea.

They think I'm looking for something more serious than this site will provide.

I even write in my online profile that online dating makes me a little uneasy.

Maybe I just need an attitude adjustment.

But, these guys should take the time to get to know me before they decide they don't like me!

I'd be totally fine with that.

Overheard at Work, vol. VII

2011-02-18T23:21:00.002-05:00

Kid with lateral lisp, during a theatre game, where he was playing "confused": I don't get it.
Me: What don't you get?
Kid (thinking off the top of his head, and admirably, at that): Why do people wear socks on V Day?

"He's a cute little Guinea!"--our Director of Support Services, being a (slightly racist) old-town girl about the man who shovels our parking lot. He's Italian.

"Men are better."--the Music Coordinator, assuring a teen that he need not worry about getting into a relationship. And, no, he's not gay.

Drummer Kid: I'm starvin' Marvin.
Music Coordinator: Are you also single and ready to mingle?
Kid: Yeah.
MC: Do you find yourself in a perpetual state of singlehood?
Me: What's wrong with that? I find myself in a perpetual state of singlehood.
MC: No, that's the way to go. Why would you bring chicken to the buffet?

"I know how to make decisions! Chicken or fried rice?! Chicken!"--an 11-year-old, asserting her ability to vote.

"Don't go crazy this weekend! You look like you go crazy on the weekends."--the Fitness Program Assistant, giving me advice, as I left tonight. I thought it was the funniest thing.

Little does he know I'll spend tomorrow in my bed, watching Bones on Netflix and doing my laundry.

To the Dark Side...

2011-02-13T13:18:00.004-05:00

When I was in college, I spent one very scary night walking from Rockridge BART station in Oakland in the exact opposite direction of the Berkeley campus.

I was with my friend Bonnie and, ultimately, we had the wherewithal to jump in a cab and have him take us safely back to our dorms.

It was 2001, and the only cellphone I'd ever seen was about the size of a small clutch and had a huge, plastic antenna. My family kept it plugged into a wall socket at home, unless we were in the car.

After the night of walking through Oakland, I decided getting a cellphone was probably a good idea.

My first cell phone had a bright green screen and black text. It was far heavier than it needed to be, and I kept it off when I wasn't home, insistent that phone etiquette meant I didn't answer it unless I was available. I would only use it for emergencies.

I am pretty technologically easy to please.

I'm not a gadget-centric person.

When I got a cell phone with a colored background, I was thrilled. When I finally got one that flipped open, I thought I'd made it. Next was getting a phone with a camera (this was only a couple years ago).

Finally, this year I upgraded to a phone with a full keyboard.

But again, I decided I didn't want the data plan, just the texting capabilities. T9 had gotten cumbersome and annoying.

Why would I need to be connected 24/7? I'm too available as it is, what with succumbing to Facebook (also only a couple years ago) and my blog, I'm pretty exposed and visible.

Then, I got a job that is more then 50 minutes away, by commute, either on two buses, a train and a bus, or two trains.

Last Friday, it took me 93 minutes to get to work. And 103 minutes to get home, on a Friday night, after a very long week. I waited for a bus for 40 minutes...

I can justify the extra $15 a month for the data plan I just signed up for in minutes sliced off my commute.

I'm sure it will totally be worth it.

But the ability to update my Facebook status by text message is just an added bonus.

(What have I become?)

Overheard at Work, vol. VI

2011-02-11T23:05:00.003-05:00

First full week of work since I started, I think = lots of quotes.

"She needs Jesus."--my coworker's word vomit about a teen.

"Farts Director."--a volunteer/donor's suggestion of my title, assuming I'd heard it before. Surprisingly, I hadn't.

"He's on acid. He probably thought it was a demon and didn't answer."--a teen's justification for why the work study candidate hadn't answered the music coordinator's call saying he'd been hired to teach drums. Apparently, there are lots of pictures on the internet of him in a dashiki.

"How about that? I want that."--a 10-year-old, who had received a $25 gift card to Amazon who was told that she could order anything she wanted. She tasted my trail mix from Trader Joe's and promptly wanted to buy some for herself.

"My claps are too thunderous."--a teen's justification for why he couldn't hear the metronome while working on a rhythm exercise.

"When you pick your butt, do you do it in public?"--a 10-year-old girl, who also wondered aloud, "Is it normal for a 10-year-old to have hair under her armpits?"
Ah, youth!

"I'm dead cereal!"--a 9-year-old girl's exclamation, making a joke she didn't realize she was making.

Me: Did you do your homework?
Kid with lateral lisp: Yep.
Me: How did that go?
Kid: (world-weary sigh) Not so great.

"My birthday's coming in three months! I expect a present!"--an 8-year-old boy's exclamation as he left the office. I love kids' concepts of time.

"When you are here with me, I fell the hugs and kisses from you. Happ Happy Valinteis Day."--my first Valentine of the year, given to me by a hilarious 8-year-old. I told my coworker who told me I shouldn't tell anyone in Child Services.

"You look like a mom!"--a tween's assessment of me. I figured it's because of the glasses.

But maybe it's the wrinkles and gray hair.

Overheard at Work, vol. V

2011-02-04T21:48:00.002-05:00

I have to preface this post by apologizing for its brevity. Sometimes my job is so intense and the days go by so fast and I talk to so many kids that I don't actually remember anything they said.

That is, nothing stands out.

On top of that, this was ANOTHER terrible week of weather with us having a short day Tuesday and a snow day Wednesday.

AND, it took me one hour and fifty minutes to get home tonight, so I am fried.

"Show the giant pencil to [the music teacher]. For some reason, I think he would appreciate it!"--me
"I know! His hands are huge! He could hold it and it'd be a normal pencil!"--10-year-old girl

"Sportsmanship!"--the 13-year-old's defense for swatting his friend on the butt.

"Are you OK? Are you traumatized?"--the music teacher's hilarious and inadequate response to the swat-ee's state.

"I just don't understand!"--9-year-old's lament.
"What?"--me
"Everything!"

"Kick his butt! Kick his butt!"--my demand to an 11-year-old boy's beating a volunteer in the drum-off they were going to have.
"I'll go easy."--his super-confident and perfect response

If I Were a Betting Woman, I Would Have Lost

2011-02-02T13:16:00.008-05:00

You may remember that in 1998, a little show called Dawson's Creek premiered.

I was 15, the prime age for this show about smart, articulate, neurotic teens to totally sweep me away.

To be honest, I didn't get into it until mid-first season, but I was HOOKED and would meet my friend Liza the day after the show was on to watch the VHS she and her mom had made, so we could rewind and swoon to our hearts' delight.

People in my life understand that Pacey Witter is STILL my dream man.

I must admit that I haven't seen every single episode.

In 2001, I started college and tried to continue my religious following but school took over, as it should.

Still, my friend Bonnie and I would make special "Dawson's" dates, and I'll never forget watching the series finale, crying my eyes out when Grams told Jen she'd "see her soon."

Ugh.

Plus, dude, Pacey and Joey were so meant to be.

After Dawson's Creek ended, I would have bet that Katie Holmes and James Van Der Beek were going to explode.

That football classic Varsity Blues came out and suddenly, with his lower voice and brown hair, I thought Van Der Beek was hot and charismatic.

Maybe he was a better actor than I had realized while watching him whine and cry and bemoan his lack of charm with the ladies on the Creek.

Katie Holmes was in Go, basically playing Joey Potter except on a 24-hour madcap adventure through drugs and Timothy Olyphant.

My darling Joshua Jackson sort of fell off the planet.

And THEN, Michelle Williams, who had always been my least favorite, playing Jen with a scrunched up face and precociousness I found off-putting, appeared in Brokeback Mountain.

And showed up at the Academy Awards, where she'd been nominated, like this:

Win. On so many levels.

I remember, around this time, realizing that Holmes and Williams were suddenly SUPER famous, what with their famous spouses, and that the guys from the Creek had been lost in obscurity.

I was surprised.

What was the world without Dawson and Pacey?

So, here's how I rank them today, from most to least relevant, almost 13 (gulp) years after the premiere of a show that will always have a place in my heart (P+J 4eva).

1.
With another Academy Award nomination under her belt for her INCREDIBLE performance in Blue Valentine, Williams is still winning. I mean, that's Ryan Gosling. So yeah, no contest.

2.
I love him so much. In fact, I watch Fringe because I love him so much. It's also a good show, but I wouldn't haven't started watching if my boyfriend wasn't on it.

3. James Van Der Beek
Two months ago, I would have put him last, but these videos are hilarious, and it shows that he has a sense of humor about himself and his lack of acting skills. Plus, his wife just had a baby, so that's pretty exciting.

4.
A poor showing by a once-promising Holmes, who gets the distinction of being Mrs. Tom Cruise, but hey, at least her new miniseries The Kennedys will be out soon. On that distinguished network, ReelzChannel.

Wait.

Um. Yes, please.

2011-02-01T18:17:00.003-05:00

I think this is a dream come true that I didn't even know I had.

You know it's something exciting when it's called "Interpretive Dance."

How do I get on?

Overheard at Work, vol. IV

2011-01-28T21:04:00.004-05:00

"I like that wintertime look you've got going. You could be an author in a book."--a teen to one of my colleagues who has grown a full beard.

"I won't yuck your yum."--my new philosophy, courtesy of a 10-year-old girl, determined not to offend my colleague, after she was offered dried cranberries to try but didn't like them.

"We're going to get together and share our core areas...that sounds dirty."--me, describing a Thai food lunch date I had with the Athletics Director. His core area is athletics. Get it?

"Why is Mariah Carey on your desk?"--me,again. She wasn't really. It was just her perfume and lotion set.

"Having intercourse."--a 10-year-old girl's answer to my question "What are you doing?" during the game of the same name, in which the first person starts miming an action, the second enters the space and asks the first "What are you doing?" and has to begin miming the action that is stated. I didn't oblige.

"You remind me of my grandfather."--my supervisor to a colleague, after he insisted she check the weather again.

"She really needs it because you can really tell when she's acting."--a 11-year-old's statement about why her friend should attend drama.

"My socks matter."--same 11-year-old, stating what she tells her mom when her clothes get picked out.

"I call him Picky-picky. His name's really Tom."--a girl talking to me about her cat. (This one's for Chuckee D.)

It Made Sense at the Time

2011-01-26T22:35:00.004-05:00

I'm a light sleeper.

If I don't have a fan or sound soother on, I usually sleep with ear plugs in. I use the large soft silicone ones that people use for swimming.

They sometimes make my ears itchy and sweaty, but they block out ambient noise (like roommates caterwauling in the kitchen or the sounds of shoveling outside my window or traffic on the corner).

When I wasn't working, I fell into the habit of making myself go to sleep finally by 2 AM.

Sometimes, I wasn't tired then but told myself that 2 AM is super late and that it was civilized of me to go to sleep then.

I'd usually sleep to about 9 AM, wake up because I felt like I had to, and be tired all day, until late at night again.

Now that I'm on a regular work/sleep schedule, I wake up around 8:30 every day and go to sleep between 10:30 and midnight every night.

This has reactivated my dream life, like WHOA.

I am having SUPER weird, vivid dreams and they seem to last all night long.

Last night, I had a very clear dream about eating rice pilaf.

You know how rice pilaf kind of sticks to the pan and clumps up?

I woke up, scratching my ear, with my ear plug in my mouth, convinced it was food.

Once I was slightly more awake, the whole thing cracked me up, until I stuffed the plug back in my ear and totally passed out again.

According to online dream dictionaries, dreaming about rice is supposed to indicate prosperity.

Nothing on rice pilaf, specifically.

Prosperity and pine nuts?

Probably, I was just hungry.

Somebody Explain to Me Why This Made Me Cry

2011-01-25T21:00:00.002-05:00

I think it was the dogs and the baby taking the stairs that did it.

Overheard at Work, vol. III

2011-01-21T23:59:00.004-05:00

Another weird week because Boston is having the shittiest weather ever.

The kids had a snow day today, plus we had Monday off. Still, I'm getting paid to watch The Wizard of Oz synched up with Dark Side of the Moon, so I can't complain.

"Brown on brown."--my colleague's mildly inappropriate response to people's compliments on his lovely brown shirt. Yes, he is dark-skinned Haitian Creole (is there a more PC way of saying that?)

"OK, which is better? Cranberry + raisin = Craisin OR raisin + cranberry = RANBERRY!??!"--a kid, musing on the daily snack.

Kid: Is there DESIGN SQUAD today?!
Me: Design Squad?
Kid: Yeah!
Me: You mean, Drama Club?
Kid: Whatever. Yeah.

"I am so in love with...Emilio Estevez!"--a tween, on her recent crush. The art teacher and I were very surprised. Turns out, her mom has introduced her to the movie The Outsiders.

"Food fight!!!!"--lateral lisp kid, after dropping a huge box of erasers, and sending them flying.

Me: Can you take those cups to the sink and pour the water out?
Kid (the one who is obsessed with ribs): Don't be lazy!
(He also calls the art teacher "hobo." I find it rude.)

"When I'm home, I'm bored. I just watch TV and my eyes burn."--a young lady, basically commenting on why we all do our jobs.

Published.

2011-01-19T21:45:00.002-05:00

This post will be published in the upcoming Community Issue of the Printed Blog.

I have just been sent the draft for the issue, and it is GORGEOUS!

Keep clicking that badge to your right, and support/subscribe/like on Facebook/tweet, etc., The Printed Blog.

Their goal is 3,000 subscribers, so if you've scrounged any change from between your couch cushions, this seems like a great place to send it!

Texts With My Brother, the Wordplay Edition (what other kind would there be?)

2011-01-15T17:55:00.003-05:00

C: Conan wants to get the word THRICE into the OED. I think we should help.

Me: Duhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I often use it in regards to defecation. As in, "I've pooped thrice today."

C: I've been to jail thrice. I don't want to go back.

Me: She's once, twice, thrice...a lady.

C: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, shame on you again. Don't call me no more.

Me: Excuse me, I've already warned you thrice. Go to the principal's office now.

C: Once bitten, twice shy, thrice less shy.

Me: Knock thrice on the ceiling if you want me! Twice on the pipes, if the answer is nooooooo!

C: Honestly, it was an honor just to be nominated...thrice.

Me: Lefty loosey, righty thricey.

C: If I've told you thrice, I've told you thrice-thousand times.

Me: If at first you don't succeed, try thrice.

C: You're thrice the woman I'll ever be.

Me: The tacos come with thrice and beans.

C: No, ANNIE!

Me: IWINNNNNNNNN!

C: Fine. You're thrice as good at this as me.

Overheard at Work, vol. II

2011-01-14T22:10:00.004-05:00

Week 2 is IN THE BAG!

This was a weird week because Boston Public Schools were closed for TWO days--we had a huge storm on Wednesday--and so we had our own snow day and then were open all day on Thursday, with no structured time.

I ran a few theatre demos to get the kids interested/inquiring/excited about the developing theatre program. Tuesday, I had nine kids show up. Today, just one. But that's OK. It's only the second week.

Kid (with a lateral lisp): I hate haircuts.
Me: Why?
Kid: Maybe your mom accidentally shaved your head.

"That's his Go Phone. It's the kind of phone where you can only call 911 and your mom."--one of the music students making fun of the music teacher's non-Smart Phone.

This was the same day that the music students were working on some theory and the music teacher was demanding that they do it "in time." When I said it sounded pretty good to me, the kids said "She says it's in time, and she's your boss" to the music teacher.

I walked in the art room and saw that one of the girls had bogarted the glitter and was making "grog." The concoction was a clear brown color, with clumps of glitter floating at the top. I asked her what was in her grog, and without hesitation, she rattled off, "Glitter, barf, poison, spaghetti." I almost peed my pants laughing.

"That's gonna cause a lot of injury. Especially among myself."--one of my bosses, hurling herself over the new hurtles bought for the fitness program.

Kid: They got Turbo Yahtzee?! (examining the game on my desk) How you gonna make Yahtzee more turbo? That looks mad gangsta!...I got the original.
Me: With the little cup?
Kid: Yeah, I didn't know what to do with it. So I use it to put my cologne in.

"It's The Wiz, made illustrated by Michael Jackson."--a girl explaining the play she was in at school.

"Can you turn the lights off now? My molecules hurt!"--a girl playing Rock Band. We figured out she meant "pupils."

The odd kid singing, "Jingle ribs, jingle ribs. Jingle all the ribs!" He also called me "Boss Lady" last week.

(Can you tell I love my job?)

One Thousand Four-Hundred and Sixty Days Ago...

2011-01-10T08:41:00.001-05:00

After I graduated from college, I filled the miserable hours during that first summer back in New York with writing. I continued this writing for about a year and a half, and I started talking about it.

I remember telling a good friend about the things I had written when I visited her over the holidays at the end of 2006. We were sitting at a restaurant on Shattuck Avenue or somewhere thereabouts and she suggested I start a blog.

I went home and wrote my first entry on January 10, 2007. I spent that year chronicling my “thoughts of the moment,” stories of my commutes to and from the work I hated, being back in my hometown, grasping at any creative outlet I could reach, and ended up racking up nearly 200 posts that first year (still the most I've ever written).

Four years later (which I realized tonight is as long as a person spends at a university!), this is what it’s become.

A place where I write desperately about my attempts at dating.

Where I share successes and failures in school and work.

Where I write about food. A lot.

Or Taylor Lautner. And the other guys I’m a little ashamed to admit I think are hot.

It has become something I am very proud of, something that continues to evolve, something that keeps me grounded and sane.

And I want to thank all of you for your continued interest, support, and comments.

And, thanks, Mel. For the great idea.

I owe you one.

Overheard at Work, vol. I

2011-01-07T20:30:00.002-05:00

I survived my first week of work! Yay for me!

It's pretty great.

I haven't quite figured out how to eat during the day in a way that keeps me from coming home around 8 PM and feeling like sticking my head in the refrigerator and eating everything in sight.

And yet, I feel like I eat all day long. My hours are 11 AM to 7 PM, with about a 50 minute commute, so I eat a good breakfast, snack when I get to work, eat lunch around 2 PM, snack around 4 PM, and then come home starving.

Ahem.

Anyway, obviously being around kids all day and the equally hilarious staff I work with has provided some great comic relief, and, lucky you, I'm sharing it with all of you!

So, welcome to another incarnation of "Overheard."

"Who's your favorite singer? I know mine. Me!"--I'm glad this 11-year-old has so much confidence. May she never lose it.

"I do like a tight jean."--My supervisor, as we discussed the appropriate staff dress code.

The pre-teens I sat with one day used the word "ninja" instead of the n-word, referring to their friends, and called kissing "french fries." Kids are weird.

Kid: Can you please tell me why hiccups are mysterious?
Me: Do you know what causes hiccups?
Kid: No.
Me: That's why they're mysterious!
--an exchange during a Girls' Game of Apples to Apples

"My godbrother is 21. He wears his jeans all the way down to here, so we can still call him a teenager."--one of the girls I bonded with while observing the art class. Speaking truths.

"I don't have ribs. Boys don't."--this came out of the mouth of one of the oddest kids I've ever met. His answer to everything is "Ribs." From 6-7 every day, he makes paper airplanes in art and throws them around. He calls people "jerk" without knowing what it means, and he screams out, "Girls, do some squats" at random and inopportune times.

"And now we have a spicy, new neighbor."--the bookkeeper, referring to me, as he left for the week. He probably called me spicy because about three minutes after I met him I told him he had a fantastic head of hair.

"I did buy some really cute lingerie, so when we learn how to cut each other out of our clothes..."--a staff member, as she prepared for Wilderness Training, which is required for her to run the Girls' Summer Camp.

"I've got metaphors for days."--a teenaged boy, urging a staff member to help him with a rap he was writing.

If this is any indication, this year is going to be weird.

2011-01-02T11:23:00.015-05:00

My friend, KL, has been in town since Wednesday, to celebrate the new year and to do important things like hat- and boot-shopping, and lots of cooking and eating.

After staying up for New Year's until about 4 AM and watching When Harry Met Sally on lots of wine and champagne, we had a very lazy day yesterday, the first of the year.

We stayed in our pajamas all day, ate at weird hours, and KL cooked a large meal for the house, which we consumed over about three hours.

By the time we were lolling about at the end of the day, it was already very late.

But she and I ended up playing an hours-long game of "Marry, Bury, Screw," where each player identifies three people (that you know or that you know of) and the players have to decide who they would marry, bury, and screw among them.

KL and I played a version where we were presenting three people to the other person, sort of as a challenge.

We had benign combinations (Martha Stewart, Oprah Winfrey, Michelle Obama) and mean ones (George W. Bush, George Bush, Barbara Bush). Totally silly ones (Nemo, Woody, Shrek) and totally sick ones (your sister, your father, your mother).

By almost 2 AM, we were throwing out totally stream-of-consciousness trios.

and

And another,

and

Finally, KL said, "Telephone pole, water bucket, stairs."

Without another thought, I said, "It's time for bed.

But I'd totally marry stairs."

*No disrespect intended to either Brian Dennehy or Jane Goodall.

Um, Since When is 2010 Over?

2010-12-28T23:33:00.009-05:00

I have said many times that 2010 was probably the most personally and professionally significant year of my life, so far.

I student-taught.
I graduated from grad school.
I spent another great summer in Connecticut, where I figured out what the hell I wanted to do next.
My cousin had a baby.
I wrote a book.
I was unemployed for four and a half months.
I got a great job. (Yes, the PERFECT job I was up for in September is MINE, starting Monday.)

How do you top that?

But, the thing is, I think 2011 will be even better.

Because even though I experienced all those things, this is the year I feel like I will really settle into life in Boston.

I'm not just "going to school" here anymore. Now, I work here too.

There's a security and permanence (whoa) to my life here now.

I made a resolution last year to write more, and it's probably the only resolution I've ever kept in my whole life.

So, in the spirit of this year ending and a new, exciting year just around the corner, here are some things I resolve to do in 2011:

1. Do more yoga. (Damn, it's hard to stay consistent with exercise around the holidays. I never knew it until this year, when I took a few days off for Thanksgiving, then tried to get back in the habit, then got really sick for two weeks, then celebrated Christmas. With my workday hours of 11-7, I think I'll be able to fit in a morning routine including yoga.)

2. Revise my novel. (This terrifies me. It took me more than 3 weeks to even read the entire thing, but I was happy to discover I actually liked about 1/3 of it. I need to buckle down, print it out, and start cutting, like whoa. Maybe, it will end up being a short story.)

3. Travel more. (I like the idea of this, but I'm pretty sure I won't be able to afford it. Still, at the beginning of the fall, I was so restless, I thought about teaching English in Japan for a year. I don't really think that's something I want to do, but it would be nice to explore New England, and even more of Boston.)

4. DATE. (Seriously, feel free to have eligible bachelors get in touch with me. And make sure they know how much I like bagels. And chocolate chip cookies.)

Interestingly enough, I started this blog as a New Year's resolution. And [clever title] turns FOUR on January 10th.

Which one of you is buying it its first erector set?

*snicker* Erector.

Thanks so much for another year of support and reading!

Tell your friends about me.

And how foxy I am.

And that I'm single.

OK, I'll stop now.

Best of 2010

2010-12-22T11:01:00.007-05:00

I know you've been eagerly anticipating this list ALL YEAR LONG.

I did something smart this year and actually kept track of all these things as I read or saw them.

(Keep in mind that not all of these were actually produced this year. This just happens to be the year I discovered them.)

BOOKS

The Hours by Michael Cunningham
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott
Couldn’t Keep it to Myself by Wally Lamb and the Women of York Correctional Institute
How Did You Get This Number by Sloane Crosley
The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins

MOVIES

Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire
Up in the Air
Fantastic Mr. Fox
Crazy Heart
Rachel Getting Married
Every Little Step
Inception
Peter and Vandy
The Cove
The Social Network
Beautiful Daughters

MUSIC

Lungs by Florence + the Machine, especially “Cosmic Love”
For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert
Recovery by Eminem, especially "Love the Way You Lie"
The Suburbs by Arcade Fire, especially “Ready to Start”
“Breakeven” by The Script
“Uncharted” by Sara Bareilles
The Lady Killer by Cee Lo Green, especially “Wildflower”

THEATER

In the Heights National Tour
The Adding Machine at BCA
August: Osage County National Tour
Endgame at Steppenwolf
Circle Mirror Transformation at BCA
This is How and The Golden Lasso at Perishable Theatre

Happy holidays, everyone!!! Thanks for reading!

Groceries, Nails, Boning, and Other Stuff

2010-12-20T09:07:00.009-05:00

Meet Lara at cLARAfications. She is my Blog Swap Partner for Blog Swap #8, and I knew I would like her when the post she had up last week included the word "poop" in her title.

Plus, she recognized that I'm pretty much Liz Lemon(!)

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Read on to discover other reasons why I like her. And make sure you make it to the end to read my post on her blog!

I like to think of myself as a go-getter. I’m a big doer—I do things. Except for when I procrastinate and turn into a lazy sack o’ something. (Censorship is unbecoming, I know, but I don’t want to potty-mouth all over someone else’s blog.)

Coming off a super productive year that included such major accomplishments as “buying 2 pairs of black boots” and “kind of becoming a real person,” it was pretty hard to think of things that I’ve put off, so I got drunk and procrastinated for a few days, and here we are.

But luckily for you, I got my ish figured out and you will soon know what this little lady will be doing after taking midnight shots with her teddy bear on January 1, 2011. (Did anybody else just realize that New Year’s Day is going to be 1/1/11 this year? Whaaa!?)

So here’s THE LIST:
1. Go to the grocery store.

You’re probably thinking, “Really Lara? That’s the thing you’re going to do next year?”

Yep, because along with Jon Hamm, there are some things that a lady needs to survive, and food is one of those things. The problem is, while I will happily spend money on a Jon Hamm fix in the form of Mad Men or a movie ticket to go see The Town, I like to challenge myself to see how long I can go without grocery shopping in order to “save money.”

You’re probably also thinking that I probably don’t save money because I end up eating out so much, and I’m not quite sure that’s the case. I do, after all, work across the street from Costco and am a-ok with eating hot dogs every day.
But yeah, so I haven’t gone to the grocery store in 3 weeks. I think I’ll do that next year…

2. Buy a nail file.

I keep breaking my GD nails and I’m always like, “Balls, I need a file!” and I can never find one. It’s a major buzzkill.

3. Become famous.

I really need to get on this if I’m going to achieve my life goal of being roasted on Comedy Central. In the process I might also achieve other life goals of writing a feature-length script and being a stand-up comedian, so basically if I can pull all of this together next year, I’ll basically have done everything ever and will be totally chill if I accidentally die because hey, I’ll be one accomplished little lady.

4. Defriend people I don’t know on Facebook.

I’ve kind of already started doing this because I can’t handle any more event invitations from every privileged Asian who killed his parents’ dreams of him becoming a doctor and is instead using his $200,000 college education to be a DJ. (In my geometry class in middle school, there was this chart on the wall of the kinds of math needed to pursue different careers. The chart said that DJs needed to know algebra, which is absolute horse doodie, but it definitely didn’t say college degree.)

5. Bone Rodrigo Santoro.

I’m watching that movie Post Grad right now (which is as terrible as I expected) and was reminded that Rodrigo Santoro is a hot piece of man meat, and I would like to take that man meat home and keep it in my freezer along with the chicken that I’ll buy at the grocery store. Then I’ll ration it out over the course of the year—again, just like the chicken. That was a really weird analogy, but the point is, I really want to bone that Brazilian.

***
Now check out my post here!

Blog Swap #8

2010-12-17T11:13:00.003-05:00

20-Something Bloggers' 8th Blog Swap is happening on Monday.

Initially, I was stressed about writing a post in the five days they gave us, once we'd received information about our partners.

But now that I've been bed-ridden for a week (first by self-imposition and now by the fact that I had food poisoning(?) last night), I'm pretty sure I'll get something written today.

I'll be featured, here, on Monday, and I'll feature Lara's post right here.

Send me lots of ginger-aley vibes as I recover from not only my relapsed cold but my angry GI tract.

Thanks.

Irony and Whine

2010-12-15T17:07:00.004-05:00

Late last weekend, I started feeling that unmistakable fog that always means I am about to get sick.

I Emergen-C'd and Zicamed the hell out of myself and felt much better right away, though, when I entered the bitter cold later in the week, my body was not happy.

And I stayed pretty congested all week.

I ignored it, blaming the change in weather and the dry heat of my house.

Since, Saturday, I have had absolutely no plans.

I've been rewatching episodes of The Hills and counting down the minutes until I'm due an offer from a great organization.

I didn't even leave the house until I finally took myself on a walk yesterday afternoon, in 27 degree weather, wearing two pairs of sweat pants, a tank top, long sleeved-shirt, jacket, and hat.

Then, I stayed up past 2:30 AM (my schedule is all off with nothing to do all day long), despite my worsening congestion and itchy nose, and I woke up feeling worse than I did at any point last week.

And I'm looking ahead to a busy end of week and weekend.

Because, of course I am.

My body couldn't decide to be sick when I was already literally in bed all day.

No, it had to revolt just as I look ahead to seeing friends I haven't seen in ages, working, and finally crossing seeing Black Swan off my list.

How rude.

Brrrr, It's Cold In Here...There Must Be a Cynical, Independent Woman in the Atmosphere

2010-12-10T16:48:00.005-05:00

Today is cold.

I left my house this morning and it was 18 out.

And, because of that and the fact that I knew I was finishing putting RM's filing cabinet together today and then would go grocery shopping on the way home, I wore jeans, running shoes, a t-shirt under a hoodie, under a scarf, hat, and long winter coat.

My hair was, in fact, clean but it was hidden under the hat and hood.

After triumphing over the cabinet, heading to Trader Joe's, and carrying my two bags of groceries to the train, I was sitting, reading the Metro, and my purse slipped onto the train floor.

Aside from immediately ruing the E. Coli and urine that was now inevitably on my new bag, I was pretty unperturbed and leaned down to grab it, when I saw a man's hand come into my view, to pick it up for me.

I "Lemoned" the situation, royally, (as in Liz Lemon), and went to grab it myself, thwarting the nice young man's efforts, once, twice, and finally surrendered to him and let him pick it up for me, smiling at him and thanking him with a laugh.

I'm sure he was just being nice, but it reminded me of the time I got catcalled from a car while walking down the street in New York, totally bundled in, like, a six-foot long scarf, hood over hat, long coat, and I thought to myself,

"What are you even looking at? It's like 12 degrees out, and besides that, for all you know, I'm a neuter."

And Now for Something Completely Different...

2010-12-09T23:17:00.002-05:00

I just stared at my computer for almost 20 minutes, realizing that it had been a week since I last posted and trying to think about what I could write.

Really, nothing much is going on.

So, I thought, I'll write about that--give you lots of lists of all the Netflix I've been watching, or how I've cried at several holiday episodes this week, or that the St. Jude's Children's Hospital commercials with Jennifer Aniston and Morgan Freeman in them always make me cry. Or how I didn't really leave my bed for two days this week, partly because I've been fighting a cold and partly because I've been watching a steady stream of episodes of Say Yes to the Dress.

Ahem.

Instead, I'm going to tell you about the six hours of work a week I'm actually doing.

When I graduated, all I wanted was for RM to hire me as her personal assistant, and in October, that's precisely what she asked me to do.

Dude, now, I have keys to her apartment. And for those of you who know her, you realize that this is like...having the keys to Oprah's house. (And no, it's not because she's black.)

It's like I get to go to a celebrity's house every week.

Mostly, of course, what I'm doing, is organizing her life. She has piles of paper that haven't been looked at since she moved to Boston in 2001. (True story, she taught her first class on 9/11.) So I have spent the last six weeks, rifling through papers, filing them in corresponding folders and making piles of shit that she has to go through eventually.

Of course, the biggest pile is full of things I have no idea what to do with.

Sometimes, I sit in the office chair, she sits on the couch, and we just go through mail. Marking what is priority, what can be thrown out (four bags full, so far) and what she can't identify. I tease her by saying that if she can't tell what something is in 15 seconds, we're throwing it out.

We talk about men a lot, swap stories of getting catcalled on the street, or tell tales about our respective crazy families.

Last week, we purchased her a large wooden filing cabinet, so these piles of paper could live somewhere, so this week, I'm getting paid to put furniture together. HA! (I'm really good at putting furniture together. All that training with IKEA pieces has paid off.)

The first couple of days I worked with her, I said that we needed to make lists of things we "must do," "should do," and "wanted to do" in the time I'd be helping her out.

Doctors' appointments and important phone calls to be made went on the first list.

Organizing files and books and clothes went on the second.

The third, she had to think about, eventually deciding that things she "wanted to do" are join Facebook and create an online dating profile.

Yes, she is that awesome.

A Rather Ordinary Post (but if you like stories about shopping, read on)

2010-12-02T21:52:00.008-05:00

Shopping during the holidays takes a certain strength.

And I'm not even talking about surviving the crowds.

I'm referring specifically to listening to bad holiday music as you try to figure out which of the 900 bags you've been looking at for 45 minutes is the right one.

I decided early this week that I was due a shopping trip.

I don't exactly have the means right now, but I knew that getting a few new things would actually improve my mood, and honestly, I was down to exactly two pairs of jeans.

I also desperately needed a new "grown-ass woman" bag. My purse was near and dear to my heart, but it was a going-away gift from S from when I moved out of New York City, which made it almost three years old.

I had a very important interview yesterday, so I was determined to find the perfect bag.

Something that screamed "professional," but it had to be affordable, sit comfortably on my shoulder, have compartments, and be a certain size.

Since I insist on carrying food and water with me wherever I go and have been known to carry up to three books at any given time.

My purses get USED.

I hadn't been to Back Bay to shop in months, so I started at Filene's Basement.

The handbag section there was fairly uninspiring. Every single bag I picked up was either uncomfortable, too small, or too expensive.

Also, the music they play at Boston's Filene's Basement is so bad. It's distracting and deterring to making good purchases.

Like, imagine the WORST, most poorly sung elevator muzak you can think of.

Filene's was a fail, so I headed across the street to Marshall's, and spent about 45 minutes just walking up and down the aisles, trying on bags, putting them down, trying on bags, putting them down.

After staring at so many bags for so long, I couldn't tell which ones were ugly anymore and almost bought a Steve Madden bag that was brown shiny leather in the shape of a large leathery flower.

I spent so long at the store, I heard their cycle of Christmas music twice. "Mele Kalikimaka" played twice, and several versions of "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve" also assaulted me, while I was trying to concentrate on handbags.

No matter how charming or moving you think those songs are, after hearing them in heavy rotation, you start to feel a little Scrooge-like.

I refused to walk out empty-handed for all the work I'd done, bought two pairs of skinny jeans and a ruffled shirt, and headed back to Filene's Basement, with the Marshall's bag ideas in my mind.

By now, Filene's was also playing Christmas music, so it was a very slight improvement from the previous music that had been playing. Still, none of the bags were quite right.

Determined to succeed, I decided to head further downtown and figured I'd just buy a purse at Macy's. But first checked out DSW, where I actually got in line to buy a large gray bag that was in my budget and was large enough. When I realized it didn't have compartments, I decided not to buy it, at the last minute.

T.J. Maxx was where I found the bag I bought, feet sore, having ridden two subways, and visited four stores.

It's a tan tote with a colorful, patterned lining, and it served me very well on my interview.

Now that I've gotten all the way to the end, I realize this isn't really a good story.

The point is, now I'm a skinny jean convert.

NaNoWriMo 2010: Final Update

2010-11-29T21:51:00.009-05:00

Now that I'm a NOVELIST (ha!), I want to share with you my tell-tale strategy for writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days (or 29, in my case because I am so awesome, finishing last night before 10 PM):

1. Be sure you do not have a full-time job.

I believe my unemployment status helped me not only have the time to do this but that doing this WHILE unemployed kept me from going even crazier than I would have otherwise. (Honestly, I probably would have done this if I had a job too, but I would have had to SERIOUSLY sacrifice my TV time and that would have ultimately been the hardest part.) (Also, it feels good to have this finished as I look ahead tomorrow to a promising job interview. (Cross your fingers.))

2. Be harder on yourself than anyone else is.

I don't think I'm going to end up being a novelist, but I punished and scolded myself into doing this project and writing every day because I did not want to fall behind on my word count and have to struggle more than I already was.

3. When taking up writing each day, do not fret over what is already on the page.

Actually, I was impressed with my ability to do this. I am the kind of writer who writes and then reads and tweaks and continues to write and then reads and tweaks again. Not big revisions ever but rereading and small tweaks as I go. This project was too big to do that, so I was able to take up from just the previous sentence. It kept me moving.

4. Take judgment out of it.

I often wrote just stream-of-consciousness, which upped the word count and did little else. I don't think I could have done this a couple years ago because I would have been paralyzed by self-criticism. Writing crap is part of this. Who cares?

5. Ignoring its slightly obnoxious abbreviation, sign up on the NaNoWriMo site and read all the pep talks and watch all the videos.

Dave Eggers wrote to us yesterday, first of all, which made me gasp as I opened my email. But, also, I think this is a great, fun, positive and encouraging organization, and you might as well get as much support from other people who are doing it as you can. I promise it helps. Especially since I was the only one who survived the month in the Facebook group I created. My friends were no help. (Love you guys!)

6. Get out of your house to write as much as you can.

My bedroom is so distracting. I don't know what it is, but I sit on my bed, with my computer on my lap and play games and watch YouTube videos instead of what I'm supposed to be doing. This is probably why, by the end of the month, I was waiting until at least 10:30 at night to write and felt, then, that I was racing against the day to get my word quota in. Every time I met a friend at a cafe to write, I would write quicker and with more focus. On second thought, maybe that was because of the wine.

7. Tell everyone you know you're doing this.

I'm sure everyone found it obnoxious, but I kept track of my word count on Facebook. It was partly for bragging rights and partly to keep me honest. I couldn't let down my hundreds of Facebook friends by not completing the task! Plus, when I told them I was almost finished and then that I WAS finished, they gave me lots of love and support.

8. Do it your way.

Mess up. Write a bunch of words you hate. Skip ahead in the plot to the really juicy part or the part that you were inspired to write about by seeing that creepy guy on the train. Write a full day's work on just describing the hallway. Do whatever works for you. And keep going because 30 days isn't really very long, and this will forever change not only your perception of what you can do but also how much time you thought writing 1667 words would take.

The first draft of Bright and Gray is 156 pages, 50,050 words.

NaNoWriMo 2010: Week 4 Update

2010-11-28T23:07:00.005-05:00

I had a realization this week that, while I appreciate having a time frame to write and this project has given me a structure, I'm not really sure how I feel about NaNoWriMo.

I'm writing and am pretty sure I'll reach 50,000 words tomorrow, but I don't like it. The writing is not good, and I'm not sure about my motivation level to make it better, once I've got a first draft.

On the other hand, I'm really terrible at looking at the task itself and going, HOLY ESS, I JUST WROTE A NOVEL.

At the same time, I did write twice the daily quota two days this week. Once, to get ahead so I had Thanksgiving off, and once to get ahead, so I'd be done TOMORROW instead of Tuesday, when I'm sure the NaNoWriMo site will be swamped. Plus, everyone is freaking out about the word validation program not working right, so I want to leave time for any last minute writing I may have to do.

This is a boring post. Maybe I'm just destined to write boring writing forever now.

At least I'm almost done.

150 pages, 48,421 words.

UPDATE: I have to admit, though, that it is particularly exciting to see my word count bar fill up on the NaNoWriMo site. Only 1579 words til 50,000. That's just a tiny bit of bar left.

Happy Holidays! (Don't Cry!)

2010-11-22T18:00:00.006-05:00

I have to admit to being a little...curmudgeonly about this video.

I watched it and thought, "That CAN'T be live!" Even though I'd cried for the last minute of it.

But then I actually read about it and became a believer.

Is that Amber Tamblyn at 2:55?

Hope you all travel safe this week and have a great Thanksgiving!

I will spending it with the cousins, their good friends (lots of chefs among them), and the baby! (All very exciting.)

NaNoWriMo 2010: Week 3 Update

2010-11-21T20:39:00.003-05:00

I am procrastinating writing tonight by writing a post about my writing this week.

How meta of me.

Actually, I've gotten into a bit of a weird schedule this week, starting my writing at or around 10:30 PM and furiously writing for an hour, just staring at the increasing word count.

When November 30 comes, I hope this daily procrastination subsides, so that it is not a mad rush to midnight. I've never been a procrastinator, so this all feels kind of strange.

I almost didn't write at all Thursday night, after drinking most of a bottle of red wine between the hours of 6:30 and 9 and watching Thursday night NBC shows, but then I made myself. Wrote through the commercials of The Office, the end of Grey's Anatomy, and Private Practice.

I woke up with a hangover on Friday morning (the morning of a phone interview, oops), so I'm sure the 1667 words I wrote while inebriated aren't my finest. Haven't taken the time to revisit what they were yet.

I'm sure that will be good for a laugh.

Aside from that, this week wasn't as hard as last week, but I know for sure now that this novel isn't good.

I write and think about all the revisions I will have to do to make it more than an indulgent psychoanalytical fest. (I may as well call the book, Exorcising My Demons, but I won't.)

In fact, I have a couple titles in mind: one is A Girl, Unguarded and the other is Bright and Gray. We'll see if either sticks.

Current word count: 33,467 (should be past 35,000 by tonight...at some point).

Update: It took me three hours, but I ended up at 35,043.

There are just ENDLESS ways to distract myself on Facebook, dammit.

The Wedding of Our Generation (in which I try not to sound too bitter)

2010-11-16T13:03:00.004-05:00

So.

Prince William and Kate Middleton are engaged.

And, for some reason, I've been affected by this news.

It might be because I'm a little bit too young to remember Diana's wedding to Prince Charles, but when she died and there were all those documentaries about her on VH1, I remember seeing footage of that huge dress. It's like emblazoned in my mind.

So, I figure her oldest son's wedding to a statuesque brunette will pretty much be the news of the year, if not the decade. (If you don't count that Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey are also probably getting married next year...to OTHER people.)

Remember when everyone called him Wills in the late 90s, when he still had a full head of hair and looked like this?

(I swear I didn't, like, Google "Prince William hair loss." This was the first picture that he looked super hot in when I image searched.)

Anyway, he's exactly one year (to the day) older than S.

So, maybe part of what I'm feeling is old and lonely.

Anyway, I'm excited for them, I swear.

NaNoWriMo 2010: Week 2 Update

2010-11-14T19:33:00.004-05:00

This has been a tough week for my novel.

NaNoWriMo calls it the Week 2 Doldrums, and I definitely felt it.

It didn't really help that I had a particularly discouraging week in terms of my unemployment, coming to terms with the fact that I don't think I'll get a job until the holidays are over, which means pinching my pennies REALLY REALLY hard for another few weeks.

Scary.

It took me three hours to write my daily quota a few days in a row, which was a little upsetting considering that when I'm not at home and distracted by everything going on on the internet, I can bust it out in an hour and a half or less.

I become aware just of the little word counter in the corner, barely even thinking about what words are coming out or if they sound at all good together.

Quantity, not quality, indeed!

Friday night, I met up with my friend to attend a regional write-in at the Prudential Center Food Court. Armed with a Starbucks chai latte and orange chicken from Panda Express, I was ready to surround myself with and be inspired by other WriMos, but when we sat near the window in the mall and saw that the WriMos were all old and female and that they were putting up charts to keep track of word count and moving tables so that we could all be together, we hightailed it out of there.

Give me a roomy booth and a glass of wine, please.

And I busted out the quota in under two hours.

Yesterday, I did it in an HOUR, which is a record, so far.

It helps that I'm nearing the halfway point and thinking about the emotional climax.

Certainly, I'm barreling along: 74 pages and 23,349 words!

NaNoWriMo 2010: Week 1 Update

2010-11-07T19:13:00.003-05:00

So.

All evidence points to the fact that I'm writing a novel.

For someone who has never in her entire life had to write anything longer than about 15 pages, this is rather remarkable. (Although, I guess the 35-page play I wrote counts...)

I've been through a lot this first week, in my novel-writing endeavor.

The first few days, the words just kind of poured out of me.

I was way ahead of the daily word count of 1667 words a day, for days in a row. I'd write in the morning and then, I'd write at night too. Anticipating what I had to do the next day, so using my writing time very effectively.

A couple days in a row, I even wrote with my favorite writer ever, Suzan-Lori Parks. As part of her Watch Me Work project, she is holing up in the lobby of the Public Theater with her (orange)typewriter, a timer, and a camera. She invites people to join her there to write for an hour every weekday.

She's also live-streaming it on the web, so I spent my writing time on Wednesday and Thursday with her. I kept her visible on my minimized word document screen, typing away, compulsively sipping and eating mints and chewing gum.

At the end of the hour, she takes questions about process from the people there and on the internet.

So, I sent in a question. And she answered it.

Told me something like, if Taylor Swift can write about her personal experiences, then so can you. Then she made a heart with her hands.

It was pretty much perfect.

Friday, I spent the day writing with a friend at a cafe that served great food, great tea, AND alcohol. We spent about five hours there, chatting, catching up, and then struggling through our daily word quota. It took me about three hours to write what had previously taken me about an hour and a half.

It's been just as hard ever since, even having had a great breakthrough to include a long section of the book set in the past.

I am actually pretty amazed at how uncensored I've been. I'm not micromanaging myself, I don't reread what I've written each day and start revising. I just read from the previous sentence and continue. Watch the little word count in the bottom left corner of my screen.

37 pages and 11,676 words later, and I don't even hate it yet!

Post-Election News (Blues?)

2010-11-03T10:14:00.003-04:00

You would think it's kind of funny and ironic of America to have recently elected Sean Duffy into the House Seat in Wisconsin.

He of Real World: Boston fame and married to Rachel Campos, she of Real World: San Francisco fame. (It sometimes still freaks me out that these people have last names, and that their lives continued after the notoriety of their reality TV appearances.)

You'd think, oh! America has a sense of humor! And, wow, those Gen-Xers must have really come out in spades to vote and make a statement about the political importance of mid-90s MTV.

Because Sean was on a season of The Real World famous for introducing the world to the term "lipstick lesbian" and for that one hostile red-head (as if I don't really know her name: MONTANA!) being fired and almost kicked out of the house for offering the students they were volunteering with some alcohol.

Except, Sean is like, SUPER conservative, and just keeps knocking Rachel up. (They have six kids.)

So, mostly, this just makes me nervous.

(Leave it to me to make even a political post about TV.)

(In other Real World-related news, Matt from the New Orleans cast apparently delivered his new baby daughter on the side of the highway.

Why do I know these things?)

Gulp.

2010-10-30T17:36:00.004-04:00

I have an announcement.

It's kind of big. And kind of scary.

Thanks to my friend, who reminded me about this event, and to my mom, who did it last year, I am going to attempt to write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days, during the month of November.

I just know that as soon as I announce this, I'll get a full-time job, be working 50-hour weeks and be scrambling to meet the deadline at midnight on the 30th.

BUT.

I really wanted to do it last year, just had zero time, while adapting and directing a play for my independent project.

So, we're going with NaNoWriMo 2010, instead!

This is going to be a GREAT challenge for me, who has, through the process of blogging, become fairly good at writing short, conclusive points with little buttons at the end of each post.

Fumbling through writing MUCH more than I'm used to is going to be a great exercise in patience and letting go creatively...(I think I'm going to have to get used to being OK with writing a lot of crap.)

Also, prepare for me to become totally obsessed with the number of words I produce a day and perhaps write about it here...

That's 1,667 words a day, by the way, if I want to make it to 50,000 by the 30th.

But, who's counting?

Ha.

On Unemployment and TV (Like Every Other Post...)

2010-10-27T17:58:00.003-04:00

Wednesdays are hard.

I have all this TV from Tuesday night that I have to catch up on because I watch Glee and then I'm always so worn out from the emotion of it that I stop watching TV for the night.

And by then, I've missed the first half of The Biggest Loser anyway and for some reason I've started watching the ABC Family show Melissa and Joey.

What has my life become?

This Wednesday was particularly hard because I had a two and a half hour interview for a Program Manager job. Mind you, I met three people in that time frame, but by about 11:30, I was visibly fading and needed a snack.

(I think things went well though, and I just spent some time crafting good thank you notes, so we'll just stay cautiously optimistic for the moment. Also, RM wants to hire me part time as her personal assistant--HURRAH!--and I start tomorrow, so things are maybe, possibly starting to shift. Good thing too, since I can pay November rent and then I'm...how you say...fucked.)

And I came home to all this TV to watch.

Seriously.

The Biggest Loser alone took almost two hours.

And there were two episodes of Raising Hope I needed to watch.

Plus, that aforementioned insult to sitcoms, Melissa and Joey.

The thing is, though, it's kind of charming.

It's like the new Who's the Boss? with Melissa Joan Hart playing a city councilwoman who has taken in her estranged sister's teenaged kids and needs help. Joey Lawrence (yes, he's going by Joey again, not the more adult Joseph. Performing on Dancing with the Stars probably killed any credit he had for being a serious actor) plays a businessman who lost a lot of money in a bad deal and takes on the "manny" role.

And I just watch, waiting for the inevitable steps the characters will take to romance. And confused as to how Melissa Joan Hart became so famous, when all she seems to do is make a lot of faces (all the while, wearing clothes that make me think of S because they would all look SO GOOD on her).

Joey Lawrence is totally a good actor, though.

Reunion Recap (Mostly, It's a Post about Kiddoes)

2010-10-22T18:10:00.006-04:00

I barely remember the actual reunion.

(No, not because I was drunk the whole time...although that might be PART of it. How else do we get through family reunions?)

I remember surviving the four TEENY TINY planes that took me from Boston to Ithaca and back.

I remember eating good food: chicken marsala, baked ziti, and chocolate bread pudding at the big dinner Friday night, squash fritters, frittata, and wraps at brunch on Sunday morning, freshly made waffles at the hotel breakfast room.

I remember crying in front of lots of people, as I read what I wrote for my grandmother, who seemed to recognize me only when my mom prompted her.

I remember bursting into tears at a sudden outpouring of unflinching support in my job search and unemployment.

I remember having strange dreams on the pullout couch in my cousins' suite.

Mostly, though, what I did was play with kids all weekend and through this week.

I taught my cousins' four-year-old son how to play I Spy, and we played it every chance we got.

We swam in the pool with his mommies, my aunt, and his uncle and cousin.

I pretended to be at a carnival with a 2 1/2 year old. We rode the rollercoaster.

I looked for pretend and real worms with my cousin's two-year-old daughter. And we traced our hands with pens.

We jumped in a huge pile of leaves at my uncle's house.

And then, this week, the four-year-old and his mommies visited Boston, and we played Hide and Seek and Sneaky Statues and Hopscotch, walked through the cemetery, led by our furry guide dog, Huck.

We practiced counting and rhyming and opposites and spelling.

He woke up, asking for me to take him to my house.

We slid down a big slide at the zoo together and rode the trains and drove the tractors.

I squeezed him and distracted him while he tried to watch TV and when he whined and squirmed, I said, "Just tell me not to." So, he said, "Not to."

We played walking tag in my apartment and I went behind the fridge to guard myself from him. He hid behind it, sure that I couldn't see him and said, "When I'm 10, I'll be tall, so you'll be able to see me! How many are you?" When I answered, he said, "YOU'RE OLD!"

(Too true.)

And when he was a pain in the ass, I would shrug my shoulders and think to myself, "You go cry it out and I'll be here with a funny face when you're ready to be with me again."

And, even though I know he won't want to play with me like this forever, I hope he knows that I'll always be here when he's ready to be with me.

Family Reunion Time!

2010-10-13T15:57:00.008-04:00

On September 5, my grandmother turned 90 years old.

Doesn't she look AMAZING?

This weekend, I will travel to Ithaca, NY, for a family reunion disguised as a concert for her. (Incidentally, Boston is REALLY far away from Ithaca, and I have to take two TEENY TINY planes to get there.)

I plan on reading a version of this.

I'm also organizing a SURPRISE FINALE, performing one of my grandparents' standards, "When I'm Sixty-Four." (He'd play the bassoon; she'd play the clarinet. Too cute, right?)

All of my aunts and uncles will be there, looking really no different than they do here.

Click to enlarge.

I predict lots of music-playing, game-playing, and wine drinking.

That's how we do.

And, just for good measure, here's a pic of four of the five of my mom's generation. My youngest aunt hadn't been born yet.

(I will save my family some face and not reveal the year this was taken.)

Click to enlarge.

You Guys! I'm SO Famous!

2010-10-10T10:21:00.004-04:00

Guest post is up at one of my favorite blogs!

Una and I share a love of karaoke, red wine, and pop culture.

Also, we grew up together but then she went to college with a totally different old friend of mine and we re-met at his birthday party. Small world.

I think if we were ever properly reunited, we would have a long, ridiculous, rambly conversation about the virtues of the original 90210 and how famous our elementary school friend is, now that he's on Mad Men, playing Peggy's love interest.

Let's make this happen, LaMarche!!

Her blog is hilarious and amazing. Read it.

And enjoy my post!

The Bullied Girl Grows Up to Write a Blog

2010-10-05T17:54:00.009-04:00

Remember that time in your life when you were just figuring out how to, like, be a human in the world? And you were stuck with the same friends you’d had since kindergarten?

So they had the freedom and power to treat you like shit?

And you didn’t know enough about how to make other friends, so you just didn’t?

I remember the girls I was friends with in elementary school were merciless to me.

(And I’m sure all of you are reading this and saying, oh my god, same exact thing happened to me!)

I would go to school one day and feel bolstered by their loyalty. We had a strong pact, made stronger by sleepovers where we’d choreograph dances to “Like a Prayer,” and make cheese eggs in the mornings. (Except, I didn’t like the cheese eggs, so I’d make them make me regular eggs.)

The next day, it’d be like everyone had discussed my status before I’d gotten to school and decided that I wasn’t in the group anymore.

I distinctly remember showing up on a school day and sitting down at a cafeteria table where my friends were already sitting. I said something I’m sure I thought was cheeky and cute and laughed at myself a little bit.

Silence.

Cold, staring, haunting silence.

My face dropped.

What had I done? Why the sudden shut out?

That silence still haunts me.

It’s amazing how these little moments in our childhoods can brand us for life.

And how often we remember them.

Take this interaction, this first indication that the people around me just weren’t as smart as I was.

My erstwhile “best friend” and I are waiting in a line before we’re let back into the school after recess, and my long hair is blowing in the breeze.

She snaps at me, “Get your hair out of my face!” And I reply back, “It’s just blowing in the breeze!”

She didn’t believe me.

Really? You think my hair is magically standing on end and whipping into your face, unprompted?

Idiot.

Needless to say, our friendship didn’t last past the 5th grade.

And yet, I think about that moment, like, once a month.

The four of us in the group would make little charts that we’d pass around our table in class.

The chart was for rating how much we liked the other members in the group.

“How much do you like me? From 1-10.”

Often, we’d mark 1,000,000 or -1,000,000 just to be clever, squishing the zeroes into the tiny boxes on the note to make our point clear.

My existence on this planet seemed to rely on these rankings: who would mark me high today? Who was going to be typical and mark a negative ranking? And which two had paired up for the day, a seemingly indestructible force?

I look back on those days, aided by the earned perspective of age and years of therapy, and think, how does any of us survive being a girl?

I’ve learned, in contrast, that there’s no gray area with the typical boy: they’re either happy or they’re mad. Either friends or fighting.

And if there’s a conflict, there’s no emotional manipulation, no social customs to try to make sense of, no teenage language to interpret.

Just a couple shoves or swings, and then they’re done.

Now that I’m working with students, I just gravitate to the boys.

I’d honestly rather they try to punch me than risk they might rank me negative 1,000,000 on their Facebook page dedicated to my lameness or whatever this generation’s version of a “How much do you like me?” chart might be.

**UPDATE: I didn't write this post in response to the recent teen suicides or even with them in mind, necessarily. Still, having worked with young people for the last few years and having just recently survived student-teaching at a high school (not to mention my own lonely adolescence), I want to assert to you and to anyone you may share my blog with that finding people who really support and nurture EXACTLY who you are isn't easy but it is worth the work. Luckily, I've begun to figure it out...And, if I can, you can.**

Once a Theatre Girl...

2010-10-03T12:07:00.004-04:00

I've been trying to pinpoint exactly what it feels like to be waiting to hear about this job.

It's not exactly like waiting for Christmas Day. Because the anticipation isn't just positive.

It's not exactly like waiting to go on vacation, although I think that's pretty close, with the sense of anticipation and unknown and potential adventure.

It's not exactly like anticipating a blind date, but it does have that potential dread factor, the sense of not knowing at all what I'm getting myself into.

Mostly, I realize, it's like waiting to see if I've gotten a really good part.

In fact, the whole process of looking for a job is a lot like auditioning.

I dress up in something really flattering.

I try to seem relaxed and confident, like I know what I'm doing and they can trust me to do what they anticipate I'll need to do.

I hope to hear about them wanting to see me again, when I try to seem even more relaxed and confident. I'm bolstered by their interest in me and try to bring that to the meeting.

And, then, I wait, convincing myself I've done my absolute best.

And knock on wood every time I ever mention the situation.

And try not to jinx myself by anticipating actually getting it.

And try not to imagine getting rejected and spending three days in bed out of the disappointment.

And try not to worry about the imminent inability to pay my rent.

OK, it's way worse than auditioning.

And, also, this is why I haven't auditioned for anything in like years.

A Fractured Exercise Tale

2010-10-01T17:51:00.002-04:00

Around the time that I was hitting puberty, I was taking dancing class three times a week.

Little known fact: I spent my last year of dancing ballet en pointe. Oh, yeah, I did.

I figured I wasn’t going to be a ballerina when I developed boobs and thighs and, ultimately, the body I have now. I haven’t grown at all since I got my period when I was 12. And my weight has totally stagnated within a range of ten pounds since then.

Granted, I’m 5’4”, so ten pounds is noticeable on me.

And I tend to get fat when I’m unhappy.

Or at least, feel fat. Which I’m sure isn’t a unique experience.

So, basically, from the ages of 14-20 and 22-25, I felt, and sometimes was, fat.

In high school, my physical activity was limited to the pacing I did in my room, strategizing how to escape my unhappiness.

Just kidding, sometimes I took begrudging walks too.

Or would go on jags of weight-loss determination and dance feverishly around my room to ABBA.

The point is, even when I was inspired to join a gym after watching The Biggest Loser in 2008, I didn’t lose significant amounts of weight.

I think this is just what my body looks like.

At my most unhappy, while living in New York City, I started going to yoga class once a week.

My instructor was a big, drag-queen-looking female opera singer who made us do sun salutations to the Christina Aguilera song “Walk Away.”

Yoga classes in NYC are expensive, so I could only afford to go once a week, but I loved it.

I loved the rubbery feeling my body had after being all flex-bendy for an hour.

I hated the cardio part of yoga (I sweat…) but loved the strength-training part and remember being particularly good at the L-stand, where you use your feet on the wall to make your body into an upside-down, inverted, L-shape.

Eventually, winter weather hindered my trip to Union Square for class, and I fell out of the habit, although my epic walk twice a day from the F train to my job on the East River continued to be a consistent part of my exercise routine.

The last few months I lived in New York City were the hardest, as I started to realize I didn’t really have a life there.

The shopping trip I took while sick with a mild digestive issue didn’t help. The cashier looked at me and my distended belly, as I purchased new sweaters or some shit, and said, “Is it a girl or a boy?”

S still asserts that he was confused and talking about how she was helping me pick out clothes, but that just doesn’t make any sense.

During my brief break between my summer job and the beginning of the semester last year, I started doing some pretty regular power-walking, while I had the time and nothing else to do.

Once school started again, I promptly stopped because my schedule became full of more important things, like trying to graduate and drinking lots of wine.

So, I’m a little wary to announce that I’ve been doing regular yoga (in my room, far from the probing eyes of more experienced yogis, on a yoga mat I bought, following Instant Watch Netflix videos) for almost six weeks.

I don’t think I’m on the road to significantly changing what my body looks like, although my biceps are definitely more defined after all those low planks.

But it feels good.

And they say a habit is formed in six weeks, so let’s hope I’m addicted soon. And that this time, it sticks.

I Didn't Want This to End

2010-09-28T18:54:00.002-04:00

Homemade Spacecraft from Luke Geissbuhler on Vimeo.

Half-way through, I realized my hands were clenched in anticipation, and then, I almost cried.

How amazing.

As My Brother Would Say, Gimme Job!

2010-09-27T21:22:00.003-04:00

What I'm finding, in drastic contrast to my job hunting experience after graduating from undergrad, which seriously gave me PTSD, is that...sometimes interviews are fun.

I keep surprising myself with all the experiences from which I draw evocative anecdotes and thoughtful answers.

I just get to sit in a room with someone in my field, who understands the importance of arts in education, and talk about why I'm so passionate about it and why I think it's so essential.

It's not really any less nerve-racking but it's certainly more satisfying.

And, if I sit back and think about how much experience I really have in this field, it adds up to almost ten years.

Crazy.

Also, sometimes what I'm asked to do is play games with eight-year-olds and run around dance studios, pretending to be popcorn and trash cans.

So, you know, that's pretty cool too, I guess.