My morning latte was literally skinny. A small defined by the nearby coffee establishment was more akin to a toddler’s sippy cup. I am reminded of a quote from “Mr.Woodcock” when Amy Poehler says to the stewardess that she “would like a real bottle this time. I’m a human not a Barbie doll”. I feel your pain, Amy. If I’m going to fork over $3 (which I have figured out amounts to how much I make in 15 min. at my lackluster job) I would very much like to be served with enough caffeine to feel a buzz.
Oh these troubled economic times. Suddenly there’s never enough in the proverbial Land of Plenty. I’m not the only one suffering from an ever-dwindling bank account. My relationship with my bi-weekly paycheck is not a good one. We never spend any time together anymore. We used to go the mall and vacation together. Now, the only time we spend together is when I have to buy socks at Target. Our feelings have changed and we don’t go out as much as we used to. And I’m afraid to say we have lost that lovin’ feeling. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve never had good relationships with money. Or more so, my credit card, which I am truly surprised still works as it’s been run through the card machine so much that the silver strip is now a dirty gray color. Instant gratification was my burden. I want it all and I want it now, high yield interest rates be damned! If I’m going to be indebted to the credit card company $100 I may as well be in debt to them $200. And so this is the life I lead, paycheck to paycheck, owing the good people at VISA my first born. I’m depressed now, I need an upper. Anybody up for a big girl drink? I’m buyin’.
After many years of post graduation co-habitation, I have finally
struck it out on my own! I’ve been 4 months living solo, or so I
thought. One ominous morning, I found a half-chewed cookie on my dining
table, as if some furry thief snuck in the middle of the night
to help himself to the plate of treats I forgot to put away. Suspecting a rodent infestation, I set out to set up mouse traps because I don’t want a roommate who eats my food and leaves nothing but a mess for me to clean up (Been there, done that). If only it was Disney cute or rode a miniature motorcycle I would consider letting it stay. As it is not, I attempted to evict my new “roommate” by luring him/her into a death trap of glue and irresistible marshmallows. (It goes without saying that I had my boyfriend take care of the disposal). I just hope that he/she doesn’t have any hungry friends.
Social networking sites are a great way to be kept in the loop with friend’s happenings, but when I get requests from people I haven’t seen since I played with Barbies, it’s a little unnerving. What in the world would you comment to them? Hey, do you still cut the hair off of all your Barbies? Remember that one time you laughed so hard you peed your pants??
And worse yet, is when some of these grade school colleagues grew up and got married and changed their name so you have to squint at their profile picture to register any kind of recognition because you have no idea who this person is requesting your cyber friendship. Again, what are you to say to them? Let’s catch up. What have you been doing with yourself since the 5th grade? Did you finally get that period you were praying for?
How desperate are you to up your friend count that you recall the name of your childhood neighbor? Grow up already and make some real friends!
There is a great distance between where I am professionally and where I want to be. Where am I you ask? Confined in the folds of three gray walls and my outlook looks the same as there is nowhere for me to climb without further advancing in the educational field, meaning graduate school of some sort and that means spending money I don’t have.
Until my proverbial ship comes in, I am like a modern day Sisyphus, only in Nine West heels and slacks, and cursed to endure a ‘Groundhog Day’ existence eight hours each day, performing the same mundane tasks and just when I think I’ve got myself to the top…well you know the rest if you were awake long enough for 10th grade English. I swear I could do this job with my eyes closed, and sometimes I do, when I dream about work which quickly turns nightmarish.
I stare at my seascape screensaver and daydream of an exciting lifestyle as a globe-trotting writer, designer, photographer, a life taste tester if you will, sampling every experience the world has to offer! I envy you Travelocity gnome. I bet no one even noticed you until you left the front yard.
Imagine waking at 4:30 in the morning to the faint sound of really off key opera. As it was 4:30 in the morning my first thought read a little something like this: Ghosts are in my apartment and they want me to move out as I have somehow offended them by solely being alive so I’m going to have to break my lease and move out which is not a good idea to do at this time of the year as it is 10 degrees. Second thought: It’s all in my head. After plugging my ears realized it was not. Third thought: It’s coming from one of the three neighbors in my quad-styled apartment. Fourth thought: Who in the world would be awake at 4:30 listening to opera loud enough it comes pouring through my bedroom walls? Fifth and final thought: Shove two pillows between head and roll over and go back to sleep to dream about hottie McHotster Ryan Reynolds demanding to have his way with me. I let him of course. Today’s to do list, create “I’d rather be having sex dreams” bumper stickers.
It’s two weeks into a new year but I can’t keep from writing ’08 whenever I go to write checks to pay my bills. Maybe ’08 was too great of a year for me to let go of. It was a year filled with adventure. I traveled a lot in ’08, getting stamps in my passport from the UK and France. I even trekked up to NYC and Boston again. I met my uber-cute bf in ’08. I moved into my very first apartment next door to my very best friend making us best neighbors in ’08. The list goes on.
What do you have to offer me 2009? What could possibly be better than my ’08 adventures? What jewels have you to entice me with ’09? More money, a fab career, a stellar wardrobe, a penthouse? Only time will tell. In the meantime, I gaze listlessly at my 2008 calendar and reminisce about the good ol’ days.
Is it too much to ask for some things to remain unchanged? And don’t get me started on daylight savings time. The clock in my car will perpetually be an hour and fifteen minutes slow. It’s not because I don’t know how to change it, it’s how I show my rebellion against it being dark outside at 5:00.
It was once said that dreams are only interesting to the people who have them. In my suffering through yet another bout of a headcold, I take purple elixir Nyquil that puts me right to sleep. (And I will admit that even when not sick I sometimes take a swig when I need to catch some Z’s). Last night I dreamt that I was visiting former supermodel Cindy Crawford in her NYC boutique called Pink Latte. And then the phone that rang in my dream rang into my reality, rousing me from slumber. It was my mom calling to check in on me, her poor, sick daughter who had fallen victim to communal germs.
I should resolve to not leave the house during cold/flu season and commit myself to a recluse lifestyle like that of Boo Radley. And with all this time dedicated to the indoors, I could work on the next best American novel, like Harper Lee did when she composed ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ and then like Ms. Lee I would be set for life knowing that my one great American novel will make me money posthumously as it will be assigned reading to tenth graders the nation over until the end of time.
I have few real-life dreams. At the top of my list is to create a book and a baby, but maybe I should have a baby first because then I would have fodder for that book. Besides grown up dreams, I also have lofty ones. One of them came true not too long ago. On March 8, 2007 I met the man that I am in complete heart with! His name? Why, none other than singer, songwriter, musician, actor Harry Connick Jr. It was after his show when he was outside the concert venue signing autographs for other adoring fans. I got my ticket stub signed and a hug, which provided me with the opportunity to tell him that I have been in love with him since I was in the 5th grade. (He did a guest spot on an episode of ‘Cheers’ and I was immediately smitten and had to get my hands on everything he produced). He just chuckled. He did not, however, invite me onto his tour bus to accompany him for the remaining leg of his tour. I believe he would have if he wasn’t wearing those unsightly green Crocs that cloud anyone’s judgment. Despite your poor taste in footwear, I still love you Harry! You made a 10 year old (in a 25 year old’s body) girl’s dream come true.
It’s not quite the Foutain of Youth, but what I found last month certainly made me feel 10 years younger. I spent 2 weeks at home over the holidays with my parents and brother and I felt like I was back in high school. I didn’t have my car since I flew home to Florida so I had to be chauffeured everywhere. I hit the mall for last minute Christmas shopping with my Mom since I don’t know anyone my own age to hang out with. Florida is the meca for retirees afterall. And I missed my boyfriend like crazy even though we talked every night on phone.
No car, no friends, sounds like the key ingredients for teenage angst. So I locked myself in my room and listened to Oasis and wrote really bad poetry. No, not really. I did take a walk down memory lane after unearthing my high school yearbooks stored in the garage. It appears that I spent all of my senior year hungover because in 80% of the photos of me, I am sporting sunglasses as if I just couldn’t be bothered to remove them, ever the celeb wannabe, complete with a disdain for meddling paparazzi.
Needless to say, after the holidays I was delighted to return to my crappy apartment lacking a host of acronyms, like AC, W/D, DW(dishwasher) and relish in my independence and sweet freedom. I wasn’t excited about the bills waiting for me, nor the return to the 40 hour workweek. But I was happy to see my boyfriend and catch up with friends. I invited them down memory lane as we flipped through my yearbooks, and talked about not going to 10 year reunions. Why bother? The people you liked 10 years ago you probably still keep in touch with today because they are your friends. And the people you didn’t like but are curious as to what happened to them, you can find by Facebook stalking. I’m secretly hoping the boy I had a major crush on from grades 7-9 is fat now. Or gay. Or fat and gay.
High school. It’s a fun place to visit, but I wouldn’t ever dream of moving back!