12-09-05 | 12:10

This entry is going to be very selfish. You are now warned.
I feel slightly above crestfallen. I feel so twisted, and so far away from what it is I want, and at times I do not even know what I want.
OK now for the petty bullshit: Oh Jesus I almost cannot even write it because it is such garbage. But I write the truth here.
When I was first here, posting and writing all the time I felt recognized, supported and appreciated. Now all I do is go through past entries and re-live all the dope stories and loneliness. I feel that there is so little I do well, and writing is one of them, but now I just feel scared and flat.
I feel like all people whose diaries I've read for a while have grown, and broken out from the supportive little circle that I felt existed years ago. And now I am writing again and still the same.
I just feel out of touch in a group that I used to feel close to.
OK end of my selfish garbage.
I have a bath running. I just wanted to proudly display the dinner that PB made for me Wednesday night, yum yum sushi. He ate the tuna, I had the cucumber and avacado rolls.

4 comments so far

For vla
12-06-05 | 19:52

For you,darling:

Autumn 2004:
Here I am living in my studio apartment. Wheee. I sure do like it here - even still. PB is spending an inordinate amount of time with me here, although sadly he has to sleep on the sofa, as my bed is a twin. I probably ought to do something about this. I think I will buy a queen-size bed so we can actually sleep together.
Oh Lord! My evil bitch neighbor has just bought my apartment. I have until the end of my lease, July 2005 to move out. I think I am going to call my broker this week and have her show me what kind of apartments are out there right now. I know that my next apartment will be a one bedroom as each apartment is like a step up for me until I purchase my own place. PB sure is telling me what I ought to look for in this next apartment, I already know exactly what I want - why is he butting in?
Oh Lord again! I just found the cutest, most enchanting lovely apartment in the west village. It is a corner one bedroom apartment with enormous closet space, exposed brick and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the very large kitchen. I totally have to rent this apartment, screw my evil neighbor and her lease. I can no longer live in my studio sanctuary knowing that my time is running out.
This is such a big step, a whole new apartment, a whole new lifestyle, even a new neighborhood albeit two avenues over from my old place, but new nonetheless, and it seems that PB is right here with me along for the ride. I think in order for our relationship to progress we have to be closer. This move thing is one of those things that can bring us together or drift us apart. In all honesty, he has been itching to move in with me for a while, but for all the wrong reasons. The boy cannot afford to pay what I pay for rent. If we do move in together and the entire thing is split down the middle we would not be able to live in a nice apartment, as he has little money. I just don't see the support from him that I need to see. I do not think he is yet mature enough to move in with me, and what about all his stuff? I want him to want to move in with me because he can't stand to be away from my side for just one night. I want him to want to live with me because he cannot sleep with me next to him. His reasons seem to be a little more practical. I am just not into that. Although to give him credit, he is so unhappy with his current job and he longs to be a photographer, but in order to do that he needs a studio and proper equipment, but he cannot afford these things without working, and he cannot do what he wishes because he is working. He is kind of stuck in a bind. And he is staying with me all the time and I am paying for all the things he uses, like toothpaste, soap, shampoo, soymilk etc..
Winter 2004:
Well, so I am moving in! Lovely more than perfect apartment, I am so in love. PB sure is helping me, every step of the way. But he is forgetting so many little things and at times he is such a child! Although he is spending every night with me, in fact in two months he has not spent one night in his apartment away from me. I am starting to think that his apartment is a waste of money and that if he moves in with me I can help him through his rough patch. He can stay with me - under the pretense that he is just staying with me and everything is still mine and not his - and only pay the bills, without paying rent and that way I will have someone help me out with bills and groceries and toothpaste, soap, shampoo and soymilk etc. And I will help him save money so that one day he can quit his job and afford to be without employment for a short time while he gets his photography shit together. And we can sleep together every night and it will be just great!
Winter/Spring 2005:
OK this bloody stinks. PB is frustrated because he doesn't feel at home here, because he doesn't have a space that is all his own. I am upset because there is a boy in my apartment all-the-time! Of course he feels frustrated, it is not his space to begin with, he is just staying with me, in my space and we do not agree on design, art, and social situations. I have a feeling that this will be a constant battle for, oh, about most of the Spring and Summer of 2005.
Spring/Early Summer 2005:
Yep, my prediction is right. And it is still hard to sleep with someone else in bed. Although we are having so much fun sex and I adore spending nights with him playing video games, or watching trashy television, or reading together. I also enjoy going out with him and knowing that we will go home together. He goes out with his friends much more than I do, which is great because I have time to myself. Living together is still a constant learning experience and we are both very selfish people so it gets rough at times, even more so because of our special situation. He is still acting like a boy though! He forgets minor things, like taking out the trash and washing the dishes. And at times I feel too familiar with him and familiarity breeds contempt and I don't want to feel that way toward PB. I have to remember that no matter how close we are to each other and no matter how much I adore and love him I will not allow myself to get 'use to him'.
Summer/Late Summer 2005:
Jesus. PB's parents are going through a crises, I am in recovery from major surgery. But PB is here for me, day and night by my side. He makes me cereal, washes the bowl, gives me water, washes my hair, helps me get dressed, reads to me, gives me my medicine, makes sure I am comfortable, puts me to bed. He is really coming along. I have never seen anyone this dedicated and interested in my well-being.
I had my surgery three weeks ago. I am still recovering PB is back at work and just came home from work all the way from midtown to kill a bug for me, give me a kiss, and now he is back on his way to work. He is taking out the trash and even remembering to do the dishes once in a while.
Autumn 2005:
Gee, we have had some major fights in this past year, but most of them are about my doubt of his feelings for me - which are totally contrived on my part and just stem out of my insecurities and need/desire to be the center of his attention all the time, living together and not being the same person - he has different sleep patterns, he likes to listen to weird music that I despise and how can he stand to leave dirty dishes in the sink overnight!? This is war, him getting sad and frustrated about not having an outlet for creativity because the apartment and space is mine, me feeling bad for him and making it up to him in different unhealthy ways. "I'll buy you dinner tonight!" And every single argument has been met and talked through and our lines of communication are very clear and open. We can also read the other person very well so that helps things too.
Late Autumn 2005:
PB just started renting his first studio space. He now has his own creative space. He is also working at his crappy day job just three days a week, which gives him four days a week to peruse his photography. His studio costs him as much as renting an actual apartment, so I guess we are back to square one in support and finances. I am a little upset about this and I cannot help but feel a little stepped on when it comes to my generosity toward him. But every time I bring it up he replies with how generous he is to me and he is correct, he is generous, although I still feel a little taken advantage of. Which is why I dislike his studio. And at times I wish he were a little more thoughtful of me. Although PB is remembering now more than ever to take out the trash, put away his clothes, make the bed, wash his dishes and the like. That doesn't mean he never forgets, because he forgets a lot, but now he is much more proactive about the relationship.

The above is a short, short compilation of the past year with PB, otherwise known as how we ended up living together under the current circumstances. The above is in no way a through description of our relationship, but rather a quick one layered play-by-play of the emotions that dominated my thoughts and our relationship over the past year.
By the way, if you’ve endured all of this and have read this far, please make a comment. I am feeling a little low as a result of being out of the online writing swing for so long.

2 comments so far

Just All Over The Place
12-05-05 | 15:20

I am feeling back in the swing of writing again. Although I may not yet be good at it (was I ever?) I am thoroughly enjoying it again. I hope this lasts and frustration does not set in.
Saturday was spent being sad in Queens. Saturday evening was spent fighting with PB, but everything is alright now. He is so wonderful. I do not wish to discuss the argument in depth, but it started when I was upset that he didn't phone me all day. I knew he was working at his studio, of course I got all jealous and sad. When he came home I took this out on him, I took my insecurity and self loathe out on PB, as a result we never got to see a movie. OK, maybe I will go in depth -It is so difficult to describe when I am not in the moment, and almost embarrassing because I act like a five year old on the verge of a temper tantrum most of the time. It is all about attention and I wasn't receiving it from PB, and that was the cause of the whole argument. Then I deny this and stick him with little disrespectful comments that really sting and at times I am almost aghast at the words that come from my mouth. Some of the words that flew between the both of us was that our relationship is 'weird' and ridiculous'. That opened up my anger at the financial situation that we are in, because it is bloody weird. The boy lives with me for free. He pays only two bills and some drug store items. At times I am mad that I take care of him and I wish it were the other way or at least mutual. I get angry like this when my insecurities crop up. My insecurities pop up when PB is busy with his lovely ladies (see? Awful hurtful insults just come out!) and his pictures. This financial situation and my unhappiness with it was going to be the cause of our breakup a few months ago, but I am so happy with him for so many other things, and I want him to be happy that it is a non-issue most of the time. In a perfect situation PB would have health insurance, a mutual fund, and enough money to split the bill evenly with me and to take me out once in a while. I am making myself sick with the petty-ness of this paragraph. Of course we resolved the dispute and after heartfelt apologies from both of us we were both soft and cuddly and close again.
I met with my trainer on Sunday. I will be working out with her twice a week, and plan to go to the gym independently once a week. So that would make three days in the gym, and one day a week of Pilates with my instructor. I can even try and do my Pilates video on my off days. I am a bit triggered (I hate that fucking word I will now say potato in lieu of stupid word) potatoed by my trainer because after describing to her my fitness goals she blurted out: "You don't want to lose any weight?" "Yes! I do!" It made me uncomfortable that she even asked the question af-ter I specified what I wanted from my sessions, but that whole potato thing revved up my energy of making this really work for me.
Sunday evening did not fare so well either, although not nearly as bad as Saturday evening. I futilely tried to make this dish - this dish that I have attempted three times before and failed - and was very upset when the whole thing went up in smoke - not literally. I have this perfect image in my mind of how I ought to look, how my apartment should look, how my cooking should be, and when something happens, either out of my control or as a result of a mistake on my part I lose all control and flip out and berate myself and feel compelled to just give up and fuck-all. That is what happened with my pan grilled Columbian corn cakes last night. The mix was just all wrong too much water and the masa hana was not sifted and was all clumpy. The shredded gouda was too coarse and stuck to the pan. Of course all this was my fault and I am a failure as a cook and an all around loser. When the prefect image folds, even a little at the corners I just ball it up and throw it out the window. I become so frustrated with myself that I toss everything and cry. PB can handle me like no other and tried, but every time he came near me I would snarl and snap at him. So he pretty much stayed out of the kitchen.
My dish was supposed to be braised pinto bean and delicata squash with giant corn cakes. Thinly slice one onion, three cloves of garlic, one chipotle pepper in its adobo sauce, and chop up some sage, and one squash. In a pan with medium heat warm some olive oil and add the onion and sauté for five minutes. Add three fourths cup of red wine – some of the Colin-Deléger Burgundy from last night – and a can of pinto beans, a can of chopped tomatoes and its juice, and add the sage, chipotle, garlic and squash. Bring to a boil then simmer covered for fifteen minutes.
I didn’t even have that down because I could not find a delicata squash anywhere, so I used butternut squash instead. So I guess from the start of the dish I was discouraged because – say it with me – If It Is Not Perfect It Is As Good As Garbage. Yaaaay! Then the corn cakes did me in and I absolutely just lost everything. PB saved the day by running out to Gourmet Garage and getting us corn chips. The dish is served by ladling the bean and squash mixture on to the corn cakes, adding on a spoonful of sour cream and some fresh cilantro for garnish. We improvised by using the corn chips PB bought in lieu of the failed corn cakes. I didn’t even enjoy the dish and ended up eating just the squash and mixing around my ugly sour creamy bean mixture and picking out the sage because I don’t even like sage.
When I arrive home after work this evening:

  1. Put away clothes

  2. Wash face

  3. Do Pilates

  4. Take Shower

  5. read updated buddies’ diaries

  6. Finish book Talk To The Hand, by Lynn Truss

  7. Sleep
I like lists. They soothe me. OK! PB just e-mailed me. I think we may see a movie tonight. How is that for following my 'list'?

1 comments so far

A Visit
12-03-05 | 11:52

After work I am stopping over at Saks. I desperately need to get some more work clothes and camisoles for my suits.
I phoned A2 Wednesday afternoon. I left her a message on the machine. And on Wednesday night after getting into bed with my book I decided that I ought to take some action and ring my friend A. I did, as it was only seven o'clock in L.A., and we chatted for a few minutes. It is very difficult because she will be away until May, and if the show she is on gets picked up for a second season she will be in New York for only the summer and then move back to L.A.. I took active steps to reconnect myself to the people I miss.
I was still feeling apprehensive about phoning A2, but then yesterday evening she phoned me back and oh my it was like we never lost touch. She said several real sweet things to me: "It feels like it's only been two weeks since we last spoke." (It has been two years) and "Oh, it is so good to hear your voice." I do not know why, but I still feel - I don't know anxious I guess about this re-connection. I think a large part of me is incredulous about the fact that she cares for me, and that she actually really likes me and enjoyed my friendship. She was always the 'perfect' girl in my eyes, and still is. Beyond gorgeous, perfect figure, wealthy, absolutely wicked smart - fluent in three languages and in an Ivy League school, witty, funny, kind, and wholly intimidating. Why would someone like she be friends with me? Her life is like a Sex and The City episode, and I am a fumbling, lazy, selfish wannabe? But it felt so good to talk to her, and I am so excited to call her back this evening and chat some more and meet her for a drink sometime next week. And the most bizarre thing is that this rekindling has me thinking ever so much more about my size and what I can do to make it smaller, how bloody childish and freaky.
I am at work now - the day is almost over. I think I am going to do my Pilates video when I get home as opposed to dragging my ass to the gym, I don't know yet. I did Pilates yesterday evening whilst waiting for L to finish her psychic reading. And when she was finished we ate pizza together so - fuck.
I am glad it is Friday evening. Esther is coming over tomorrow morning to do my nails and after that I am going to do laundry and go to the gym. Let's see how it goes.
The above was written yesterday afternoon at work.
It is now Saturday morning and Esther is here and I am feeling a little better.
I bought a lipstick at Saks! Laura Mercier Champagne Pink, I was also looking for a cloche hat, one in particular a Burberry gray velvet cloche hat. Alas, the store did not have it and when I looked just now on the website the only size available was a large. I am kind of compelled to buy it. I do not have a particularly large head – my head is more medium sized, but I really want the bloody hate! I ought to have bought it online when I had the chance, and now I am stuck with a large hat.
When I came home I lost all energy. By my door was this huge flat box. I knew right away what was – my birthday gift from Brother. I really adore Pierre Bonnard and my absolute favorite lithograph of his is the Little Laundress. It is hanging in MoMa and I’ve viewed it so many times. However the ‘print’ (ahem, poster) I was given was not so nice. He put little to no thought whatsoever in my gift. He e-mailed me in October and asked what I would like, I replied with three or four suggestions and the series of events that lead to last nights one month late ‘birthday’ gift was as follows: he went to g00gle, typed in Pierre Bonnard, and barewa11s.com was the first site to pop up (it is, I checked) and he then typed in the artists name in the search field and on the first page of poster results was The Red Bodice, he clicked the “frame it” option and done! The whole process cost him $26.50, had absolutely no personal connotation and arrived a month late. I am not a stingy bitch. The cost does not bother me, it was the utter thoughtlessness in him getting me something I would actually like and care for. The poster looks so crappy in its frame and the whole thing makes me sad. My co-workers, with whom I’ve been working with only since September gave me a cake, and a gift certificate to a cooking class – because it is common knowledge in my group that I enjoy cooking. If four people who have only known me for two months can offer me a thoughtful kind and lovely gift then Brother who has known me for twenty-four years can put at least some concern in what he gets for his little sister. On that note I sent Sister-in-law a recipe of mine via e-mail and asked for the recipe of the soup she made on Thanksgiving. Did I get any response? Uhh, no.
Hello!? Do I exist?
On a much brighter note, PB is doing now what he has wanted to do ever since I met him. He is working part-time in his day job and now has four days a week to tinker about in his studio and perhaps intern or do an apprenticeship with a photographer. My friend Gianni’s reaction when I told him the good news about PB’s life: “An artist with a business sense? Damn, you’re lucky.” I guess. PB is nervous because he is doing something new but I am so happy for him. He is going after his desires and he is doing so methodically and maturely.
He is there now. Doing an ‘all day photo’ shoot.
He went out last night to work in his studio and I was so exhausted that after having a glass of Colin-Deléger 1999 Santenay 1er Cru Les Gravières with PB (I adore Burgundy) I went straight to bed, sans shower, and make-up removal. I had a long and deep sleep. I woke up feeling like ass though. I countered that by taking a hot, steamy bubble bath this morning. To me, there is almost nothing as luxurious as taking a long hot bubble bath in the morning. Except maybe adding a mimosa to the mix.
Esther is all finished and is about to leave, I feel better now that my nails are polished, and later I am going to see my folks in Queens. This is something I haven’t done in a year or so; see my parents for no reason other than a visit.

1 comments so far

12-02-05 | 16:25

In lieu of a 'real' entry I will take this entry from Vivo.

Reply to this entry, and I'll tell you one reason why I like/love/adore you. Then, if you're so inclined, put this in your own diary and spread the love.

1 comments so far

11-30-05 | 15:25

I’m back again.
I just came from Pilates with a stop at Sacred Chow for some lunch. I feel worse, sad even, after realizing what has been troubling me it seems to have grown and evolved into sadness. Not wretched sadness, so it could be worse. I could have been hit by a car, or be on fire, so that too is good.
OK, it’s been a couple of hours since I wrote the above paragraph. And I am listening to The Smiths. Uhh, so two years ago Ecstasia. My longing for dope and nostalgia of Christopher Street are symptoms of my loneliness. Why would I long to go back to an even lonelier place in my life? Probably because I had less responsibility in that time of my life; my goals were to smoke cigarettes, stay thin, do heroin, and shop. Now I am twenty-four. I have my first real job that is real and important. I have school, and that is even realer and more important than work, I have PB and we are in a real and solid relationship. I stopped doing drugs of any kind, I stopped smoking with a cigarette about once a month and I rarely drink.
I sure am using the word ‘real’ a whole bunch. I used to have issues with ‘reality’ sometimes I thought I was slipping into nonexistence and nothing felt real and it seemed that everything was melting. PB was (and still) is the only person who was able to shake me out of my melting state. I haven’t had an episode like that in a long time now.
My therapist – whom I’m seeing in twenty minutes – suggested that I used heroin as a coping mechanism for my sadness regarding my family, but I think it ran deeper than that. I think it was my one last time to be irresponsible, reckless, and young with absolutely no consequences. Now one might think that a drug addiction is consequence enough, and it was murder, and a nightmare, but I got over it – myself – with only PB’s knowledge of the whole event. I believe the whole sickness was a way of testing my limits and punishing myself. I punished myself for being so sad for no good reasons. I thought to myself: ‘Who the fuck are you to feel sadness, or worthlessness? I’ll show you what those emotions really feel like.”. Well then why do I miss that? Am I sad again, for the same reasons that I was sad about three years ago? Do I want to hurt myself again? Well, I cannot even find her phone number, so I cannot.
I think responsibility of life scares me, and also the fact that I truly don’t know the responsibility of life – that quote by Pulp above this entry is up there for a reason. I have always been taken care of, and who the fuck is a ‘trust fund baby’ to complain or be sad about anything?
PB used to tell me that I had ‘rich person guilt”
“But I’m not rich!” I would shout.
I am just very loved by my Mother.
Gahh, I need to go to therapy now. I’ve never felt less like going.
I was going to go to the gym after, but I do not think I have the energy.
By the way, read the previous entry if you have yet to, I guess it it the pre-cursor to this one.

1 comments so far

11-30-05 | 14:51

I am lonely.?That was the first thought I had this morning. I was waking up, and specifically thought to myself; I am lonely.?I never had a large group of friends. I was always very private with my time and space I had three close friends: R is away at school, A is in La doing a hit network television show, L (my cousin) is here and still close but I do not get to see her as often as I wish, I guess that is my fault I mean I can stop being so lazy and sensitive and go out every once in a while, and A2 is here, she is the one who recently got in touch with me, but I haven’t the balls to phone her back yet. R was the friend who I would have over and we’d bake cookies and drink wine and then go see a crappy movie and have the best time. She also had a huge group of friends who I considered my casual acquaintances and who were always around for the impromptu house party. A was the chick who I’d party with and have a great time with. L is just a good soul who is a joy to have fancy dinners with and, A2 was the lady who would take me to the posh spots around town and who I’d go shopping with and feel over my head about. Just four girls, four girls who didn’t know or particularly care for each other outside of me, but it was enough for me and kept me happy.?Now I have PB, which is the world, but he has his friends, most of them I refuse to like as I am a judgmental bitch and see any and all women talking to my man as competition. But I think – as a result of my loneliness – that my judgment is dissipating, and I just want to be out and smile and have a good time. And I know that being with PB would make me smile?I also feel that having the new furniture in the apartment (hey I spelled furniture correctly! Twice!) will open me up in terms of hosting mini get togethers or cocktail parties with four or six other people, or having two people over for dinner, because the apartment as it stands is a shitload of junk and crappy stuff in this beautiful high ceiling, arch doorway, cherrywood floor built in 1920 apartment. I mean this is my dream apartment. The kitchen has a chandelier and all the original cabinetry with little gold fixtures and a modern Kohler double kitchen sink, the kitchen tile is this Spanish tile in mustard yellow, pale blue and slate white. The bathroom is hand tiled in these little blue luminescent tiles, and when it is properly furnished (three times!) I will feel much better, and perhaps will remove the stick that is in my ass and be social.?But in the meantime – I am lonely. I know what this means. I ought to give A2 a ring and meet her for coffee next week.?On another note, PB is in the midst of a major life change, his career as a photographer is officially starting soon. He had this big meeting at work yesterday and he received exactly what he asked for; three day workweek with a day rate increase. With his two free days he is looking to intern or assist a photographer and spend time doing proper photo shoots in his studio. I am very proud of him, as this is something he wanted to do ever since I met him, but I have this irrational fear that he will set off in his career and spend all his time in his studio and I will never see him again, and then of course he will fall in love with on of the models and they will run away to France or something and live happily ever after making beautiful French model babies and he will take photographs of too. ?It is now 9:30 and I have to brush my teeth and start my morning and wake up my man.

1 comments so far

05-05-12 - Smooches!
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