One of the things which is stressing me out and consuming much of my time right now is moving; I find moving more stressful than break-ups. I hate-hate-hate doing it and have put it off for months now.
NB: I know many of you thought I was moving to SF this past March, but that obviously didn't happen and it's for the best. When I say I have put moving off for months, I'm not referring to THAT cross-country-clusterfuck. Rather, I'm referring to the fact that my gemutlich Kalorama studio started falling apart...and the fantastic building manager who would've prevented and/or immediately addressed such issues was promoted and moved down the street to a different building because, well, she's fantastic.
Good for her, not so good for me. I needed to move, but I felt trapped, both by my reluctance to deal with the hassle and the fact that everything I was looking at was $$$. Despite the crumbling, bubbling ceilings, the broken heater and the occasional roach-spotting, I found the lesser of two shitty evils to be staying where I was...and being miserable. If I had received a magic 20% raise, I would've sucked it up and left, especially after all those nights spent freezing in March and April, but nothing I looked at in my price range was that much better OR as close to a metro. So I was stuck.
And then, a good friend got a different job, relocated to the West Coast and offered me dibs on his beautiful apartment, which is in a much posher building than mine-- and yet, $300 cheaper (utilities included). Did I mention the rooftop pool and the one-block proximity to the metro? No? I was probably too busy gloating gleefully. ;) I hurriedly said, "HELL YES" and then thanked the Lord that I'd be moving somewhere where there were no roaches, the ceilings were intact, the heater worked-- and the rent was less than what I paid for my Kalorama crib in 2006 (which was already a steal).
I'd rather parade down M Street on October 31st wearing one of those skanky halloween costumes ("naughty nurse!"..."pervy policewoman!"..."frisky french maid!") from The Pleasure Place with my abs in their current shameful state and my upper arm fat flapping in the wind than pack everything I own in to boxes and move them-- and if you've seen those costumes, my bikinis are more conservative.
So yeah. I think you realize how much I hate moving. I almost had an anxiety attack about it yesterday.
I am leaving one apartment for another, and I've been trying to figure out what I want to do with this "fresh start", decor wise. I thought a wall of shelves might be wise (and cheap-- they are on sale at Tarzhay this week) but I wasn't sure...until I saw this. Isn't it lovely?
I certainly wouldn't mind having so many books that I could arrange them like this, by color (!), but I also wouldn't mind that cutie-patootie pug, either...oh, hell, I wouldn't mind any dog. I just miss my dog, period.
The photo is striking and inspirational. Over a thousand people have favorited it on Flickr, which is a testament to how cool it is. It put a smile on my face, I thought I'd make your mouth move that way, too.
...it's my favorite finalist from Project Runway. Oh, snap. I didn't THINK he could get more fabulous.
Sharp shooter into breakin’ hearts A baby gigolo, a sex pistol Hollerin’ at everything that walks No substance, just small talk Know why you’re feelin’ on that girl’s behind, You got a sleazy, one track mind Workin’ your work until you find Who’s goin’ home with you tonight.
I am having an awful morning. Like, appalling. Despair-inducing. Panda-had-to-stop-me-from-pitching-myself-out-the-window-level bad.
In his haste to both get to work and before doing so, reassure me that
a)The rodents in the kitchen weren’t going to attack me b)The roaches outside weren’t going to attack me c)Nothing is worth pitching oneself out the window
…he forgot his watch. His very special, so attached-to-it he sleeps with it on (which is something I only thought my strange little sister did) watch.
After I resigned myself to the fact that ill winds were going to come my way, whether I freaked out about them or not, I emerged from my comforter/pillow fort, put on a deceptively cheery (mustard yellow and peacock blue) outfit and went in to the bathroom, to splash water on my face. And there it was. Heavy metal, out of place. Forgotten.
Several months ago, when I was reeling from loss and disappointment, I met a new friend at Mate in Georgetown, for happy hour, even though I was anything but. As I ordered Pomegranate margaritas two-at-a-time, I became concomitantly bitter at my shitty luck and trashed with tequila. Slurring my words like a champion, I blathered something at poor Panda about how when I was small, I liked to wear my Dad’s watch. Then, though he had known me for all of two hours at that point, I grabbed his hand and started to maul it.
It’s fair to point out, however, that even if I had been sober, I wouldn’t have been able to unlatch the clasp, because it was different from those I was used to. Panda very patiently took off his beloved graduation gift and handed it over, and I immediately put it on, while exclaiming about how “effing heavy thith thing ith!”. After my fifth margarita and the end of my tale of woe, he gently suggested that I might want to consume something besides triple sec and he escorted me out of the lounge. I blurted, “Amma!” and since anyone who has read me at all knows exactly what and where that is, he dutifully walked me there and ordered me lemon rice. I don’t remember much of the evening, beyond that. I think I gave the watch back, but kept wearing his beautiful, pastel, silk twill tie. Oh yeah, I forgot about that bit—when trashed I like to take off peoples’ ties and demonstrate how “awethome I am at, like, tying a winthor.”
Anyway, that was almost six months ago and I haven’t worn this watch (or that tie!) since then. Not until today, when it seemed like some sort of omen, some confirmation that I was doing the right thing by facing my demons vs the pretty aqua duvet fabric.
So I put it on. And today is rough, but my aching left wrist (thith thing ith heavy!) is a constant, weighty reminder that even if I lose all of this, the hand which normally wears this watch will always be there to help me up, when I fall.
Surprising as it may seem, out of my (then) five blogs and fotologs, this was once the *most popular* site of them all; no other website generated as many impatient emails for me to "Update, already!". Shocker, I know.
Clockwise from the top:
1) My straw purse (floral lining, bamboo handles) 2) Sanrio "pirate" Hello Kitty wallet* 3) dead Canon SD :( 4) Smith Sunglasses 5) Tide pen 6) CVS anti-bacterial hand spray, in "pen-like" formation 7) WaPo magazine Sunday crossword puzzle 8) half of Coach key fob 9) green mechanical pencil 10) hot pink micro-point rollerball pen 11) Cadbury Milk miniatures (x 3) 12) atomizer filled with Creed perfume 13) CVS anti-bac individual wipe 14) Goody anti-slip hair elastics (partially under #13) 15) SmartTrip card for the DC metro 16) Red Palm Centro from Sprint 17) Orbit Cinnamon (cinnamint?) gum 18) non-stick lip gloss in "lotus" 19) facial tissue (allergies...ugh)
*Since it's "pirate-themed", it's covered in anchors, my sorority's symbol...wish I had bought two of them, this one is falling apart, out of overuse and love
I haven't played tennis regularly in about...15 years, but I'm always happy to attend actual sporting events (it's the only way ill watch baseball for ex). When Panda decided to take me to see Andy Roddick, I was mildly excited. Unfortunately, I had a strssful few hours before all the excitement AND I neglected to consume solid food, so by the time I got here I was a wee bit frazzled. One nutella and strawberry crepe later, I'm feeling a bit more in the mood for 140 mph serves. If only my camera weren't broken... :(
Yet another reason to be grateful that I live in Washington, D.C., and that fate intervened and allowed me to stay here. San Francisco will always be home, there, waiting...but right now, this is where I'm meant to be, this is where I truly belong.
Smithsonian's International Gallery, Washington
July 12, 2008-October 5, 2008
Organized by the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service with The Jim Henson Legacy, Jim Henson's Fantastic World
offers audiences a rare peek into the imagination of this brilliant
innovator and creator of Kermit, Big Bird, and other beloved
characters. The exhibition documents Henson’s process of “visual
thinking” through works of art, photographs, documents, puppets and
other 3-D objects, and film and video clips. Museums may create a
separate activity center with the educational and interactive resources