All the gossip

I keep thinking that I'm going to write a long, detailed post about what happened. But I don't really want to, and I keep dreading writing about it. I usually enjoy writing detailed, thoughtful posts that are much more than reports. But I'm stressed out because it's the last few weeks of school, and I also don't really enjoy dwelling on what is going on.

So...

After a couple conversations in which The ex-Ex gave me ultimatums (decide right now whether you want to be with me), I was fairly sure that we were going to break up.

I spent a night with The Filmmaker, and we ended up making out as well as sharing a few kisses... elsewhere.

The next day, I felt horrible. I sent an email to The ex-Ex, basically telling him all of the things that had led me to believe our relationship couldn't work. The email was not sweet or evasive. I was firm.

He surprisingly wrote an incredibly long reply in which he told me he wanted the same things and that he thought we could work it out.

I felt even more upset about what happened with The Filmmaker, and told The ex-Ex what happened. The ex-Ex was understandably upset, and yelled at me for a good hour on the phone.

The next morning, I had an email from The ex-Ex telling me that he understood what had happened and might have acted similarly if he had been me.

The ex-Ex and I started talking more on the phone or email, and I made plans to come back for the summer. I reserved a flight to his town at school, for the night before his birthday.

I didn't see The Filmmaker for about a week. He was sick and I was avoiding him or busy. We didn't talk about what happened. I was embarrassed. The Filmmaker's best friend, The Dork, confronted me about what happened and revealed that he still (after 2 years) has feelings for me. The Dork tried to trick me into giving him a detailed explanation of what happened with The Filmmaker. I refused.

The Filmmaker started talking to me online again. I made sure to curb any flirtation from my end. He came to the library when I was working this week and I sat down with him after my shift ended so we could study together. We ended up talking most of the time, catching up mostly. He asked me what had happened with The ex-Ex; I told him. I was surprised at how much less embarrassed I was than I had been before. The Filmmaker didn't seem too disappointed, and said that what happened doesn't change our relationship that much. I was glad.

I was called on Thursday with news that I am a finalist for an internship that I want. The opportunity is incredible and the competition is fierce. I have to submit a taped interview and won't find out for a month whether I get the internship, which is in Los Angeles. The ex-Ex was upset when I told him, and told me that he hoped I would take our relationship into consideration when making a decision. I was angry - but not surprised - that he was being so unsupportive. He apologized later that night and told me that he would support whatever decision I made.

I still only talk to The ex-Ex in ten or twenty minute snippets, either because of his schedule or mine. I always let him call me, because I never know when he will be free and because I am rarely free. We talked last weekend for two hours on the phone and it was great, but since then it has been mostly emails or short phone calls. I am too tired to do anything else or to break up, and I can't tell what I want to do or how I will be able to figure it out.

I increasingly think that I am in love with The Filmmaker, even though I know I can't have a relationship with him.

Disgusting

Sorry, I lied. I said my post today would be about the gossip of the men. It is not.

I WILL, however, post about that tomorrow. Unless I'm lying right now, in which case I won't. Either way, it will come out very soon.

But fortunately, I will complain about the fact that the nurse at health services gave me antibiotics for my allergies that killed just the right amount of bacteria in my special place to give me a yeast infection.

Love it. Love. It.

Not one of "those"

I realized today: I'm not one of those people who just sits around and hangs out. I was thinking about it, about people I know (or mostly people I don't know...) who just sit around and hang out a lot. They just do nothing much during their free time. I'm not one of those. I'm the one who has to take the hardest workload possible at college, and then take an unrequired and time-consuming internship that doesn't pay. For my future, sure, but that just brings me back to my point: I'm not just hanging out on my time outside class.

"But when I graduate next year," I thought, "I'll have a bunch of time to just relax, outside of regular work hours."

There are two problems with this, I realized. First, it's never as relaxing as it sounds, when you factor in the commute and the grocery shopping and the bill paying and the cooking and cleaning. Second, I won't have a regular job, probably. I'll probably have a 60 or 70 hour/week job, and I'll always be working toward something better. Maybe it's just who I am.

Or maybe next year I should just say "whatever" to all that and do nothing that isn't absolutely required of me by my school.


Tomorrow there will be a real post, with a lot of juicy story... about certain people I have been avoiding blogging about. Until then.....

Bewildered in the morning

I woke up. The chirping birds betrayed the dim light of the bedroom. It was 10:30. The light was seeping in through the cracks of the window shade. I had company coming at eleven, and I had set an alarm for 10am... Did my alarm go off? I looked at my phone; the alarm icon was gone. I must have turned it off. Strange, I couldn't remember waking up.

I shifted in bed, stretching. As I pulled the comforter away, I found that I wasn't wearing any pants. What? I always wear PJ pants to bed.

There they were, right next to me in bed. So... I had taken off my PJ pants in my sleep? What exactly does that mean?

Laundry day

I'm the kind of girl who waits.

To do laundry, at least.

I wait until my last piece of acceptable underwear is gone. Then, I'm left with the undesirable pile (yes, I have a pile. It is folded). Then, as soon as it isn't raining/too late at night/there is anything better to do, I force myself to go.

This time, I broke into my undesirable pile two weeks ago. Every night that I was free to do laundry, I found an excellent excuse to avoid it. There was the homework. The pot. The rain. The schedule.

Then yesterday, I used my very last pair of socks. Not even my undesirable socks were left (those ones I just throw in with the regular pile. But there is still a pile). I searched through the drawer. And yes, I had only one pair of underwear left. "Tomorrow is the day," I sighed. Then smiled: at least I didn't have to do it then!

Today, I left my friend NiceGuy's room after a riotous episode of The Office to do my homework. "Maybe I'll bring it over?" I wondered out loud.

"Yeah, definitely" He offered.

Oh wait. Laundry. "Nevermind," I whined, then explained. Oh well. I got home and separated all of my dirty clothes (every piece of clothing that I've worn in the past month) into two piles. Whites and darks. The darks pile... was... out of hand. Out of laundry bag, even.

"I guess I'll just have to do two loads of darks," I grumbled, making the familiar promise to myself that I would do laundry before it got this out of hand next time. I gathered the laundry bag, the detergent, the change (no pockets on laundry day!), and the overflowing clothes. Then I searched for my key.

I left, walked the 50 feet or so to the laundry room in my proud laundry day clothing: gray PJ pants, a black slip, a bra, and a knit sweater. Hott. As I approached the laundry room door, I saw orange tape in an X over the door, Katrina dead-body style. "Oh crap," I said, turning the door knob. I turned in horror to see all 4 washers and dryers with "Out of Order" signs taped on top of them.

So... commando time?

Inside: a place that should be flower-free

About a week ago, I had a serious problem. I woke up with a throat that felt half-closed, with liquid draining down the back of my throat. My mouth felt numb, and I was sort of dizzy.

But I quickly dismissed the idea of a cold, remembering that this had happened the last two years around spring time. So I found some antihistamines, cursed my allergies, and succumbed to the side effects of the medication instead: dull-witted sleepiness. Basically, there is no way of getting around the wrath of my allergies.

Luckily, the rain came to New York and soaked up all the pollen or whatever was causing my entire face to feel like a swamp. Unfortunately, I wasted my health on booze and boys, and today at the office I again felt a familiar numbing of the throat.

"That's strange," I thought. "It's still wet and miserable outside; why would my allergies be coming back?"

And then I got off the elevator at the end of the day to find out that some retarded asshole who obviously has no allergies decided to put up an orchid show in the lobby of our building. How considerate. With any luck, it will be there until I leave in May.

Such a smooth criminal

On my way out of the building coming from my internship today, the fire alarm sounded. I looked back to see an entire hallway of fire alarms blinking and sounding off, then continued hastily out of the building.

For some reason, I felt somehow responsible. And then crafty when nobody pulled me aside, catching me in the act of setting the fire alarm off.

They'll never catch me!

So, this is interesting...

The indecision over The Filmmaker and The ex-Ex has not been resolved yet.

In the meantime, another problem has presented itself to me which will be easier to discuss.

I like to think of myself as a feminist. It's not that I think there are no gender differences. I think being a feminist partly means being a critical thinker; looking at gender as something that shouldn't dictate one's destiny. I'm a woman (whatever that means), but I don't think that all women are the same. I don't think all women are weak or strong. I don't think that all women have a "natural" mothering instinct, and I don't think that none of them do. I try to question phrases with the words manly, womanly, feminine, masculine...

I am irritated at the studies revealing the ways women defer to men. That women, in conversation with men, use words like "This is interesting" or "I have a story to tell you" instead of just launching in. Whereas men don't point out the value of their words because that value is automatic when the speaker is male.

When men speak, they tend to break up their sentences with their natural breathing patterns. When women speak, they lengthen their breaths in order to push more words out of their mouths, unsettling their natural breathing patterns. Why? Are they afraid someone will interrupt them? Are they making sure they convey enough information in one breath to confirm that their stories are valuable enough to hold someone's attention?

Women in power who freak out and yell at their employees are deemed emotional, bitchy. Their words are dismissed and they are taken less seriously. Men in power who freak out and yell are forces to be reckoned with. They may not be highly regarded, but their right to be "the boss" is not as likely to be questioned.

There are statistics about pay inequality and workplace discrimination. Those trouble me as well. But when the inequalities come down to such subtle social interactions, it's even more insidious. Why is it acceptable for men to watch women, survey them, examine their bodies without feeling uncomfortable? Why is it unacceptable for women to hold eye contact with men when they are not flirting?

I recently tried to look people in the eyes as I strode past them on the streets of Manhattan. I tried to walk with my shoulders back and head up, eyes forward. To convey confidence, ownership of my surroundings. Arrogance, even. It feels nice.

Yet, even though I am aware of these inequalities, disdain them and protest them, I continue to wear bras and shop for feminine, "attractive" clothing. It makes me feel good. I say "Sorry" when people bump into me. I ask a server if "it would be possible" to get a glass of water. I thank people profusely and often.

And today, I stepped off a path to make room for two men who were walking in the opposite direction.

A pinch of adorable

I invited The Filmmaker over for an incredibly late (midnight) impromptu dinner last night. He said "I'm hungry" and I realized that I should probably eat something before bed, so invited him over. Out of the kindness of my own heart. Also because I didn't want to do any more work.

Instead of putting on real clothes, I went for the sexy PJ look (so, my PJs).

We sat and talked while the pasta boiled. He was possibly getting a job post-graduation and I was excited for him. Also for myself: he could get to know all the key players and introduce me before I graduate next year.

A couple days before I had talked to him online.

"What was your plan?" I asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"Your plan. After you told me you were interested in some kind of romantic involvement, was your plan to just have sex with me for a month until you graduate?"

"Sort of."

At first, I felt kind of hurt. He just wanted to use me, then. How could he just want to screw me and abandon me? I put myself in his shoes. If I was interested in him but leaving the area in a month, a fling was pretty much the best we could do. So it was either that, or he was planning to find someone easy to have sex with. Of course I had to ask him.

"If you weren't leaving in a month, would you want more than a fling?"

"Yes."

So the guy I've been interested in for two years finally wants me. Would want to date me. And now I had invited him into my house to share a meal. Great plan.

Things were going swimmingly until I couldn't think of anything to say. We had finished eating and it was getting really late. I didn't want him to leave yet, but it was bound to happen soon and if we didn't keep talking, probably within a minute or two. But my mind was blank. I just looked at him, sitting across from me looking right back at me. And then he finally spoke.

"This would be so much easier if we were dating."

Uh oh. "What would?"

"Well, if we were together we would just go upstairs and go to bed together until we fell asleep. But this way, I have to go back to my room and lay in bed awake and wait until I fall asleep by myself."

Oh. I had thought he was going to start talking about sex and how much he wanted to do me, or something eloquent like. But no, he wanted to go upstairs and fall asleep together.

I know he's not perfect. But I can't help comparing him to The ex-Ex and wondering if I like him more. Even if The Filmmaker would only be for a month, liking anybody more than The ex-Ex doesn't seem like a good sign.

Early morning catastrophe

This morning, I woke up extra early to get ready for my internship because I had a special task. Last Thursday, Kansas boy asked me if I could fill in for him on his day off. Kansas boy is the executive assistant to the president of the TV channel I work for. You can't come late to work to screen calls for the president of the channel.

Kansas boy had asked me to come by 9:30am, a whole half hour before my usual call time. But since I wanted time to settle in and get some coffee and water before I would be chained to his desk, I decided to aim for 9am. Coming from my school, this meant waking up at 7am. And, of course, I went to bed at 2am. Is there any other way to live?

With me, you can tell there is something very important happening on a given day when I wake up within five minutes of my alarm's first ring. Today, I was up within five minutes. I went to the shower, turned the water on and waited for the temperature to change. It didn't. I kept thrusting my right arm into the water, long enough for my arm to get used to the cold water and fool my body into thinking the water was actually getting warmer. So I tested with my other hand, and my suspicions were correct: no hot water. I cursed at the shower, then made some judgment calls. I held my hair up with one hand while I soaped with the other hand in the freezing cold water. My shower lasted less than five minutes.

Then I had to get dressed. I had run out of the underwear that I usually wear (laundry day is impending), so I picked the most comfortable thong I own. I dressed, did my make up, and was ready to brush my teeth and head out the door (right on time) when I got my period. The underwear was unsalvageable. I ran to the bathroom and get a tampon, changed into ANOTHER thong, and called a cab to get to the train station. I make the train I was aiming for, using the last of my cash for the taxi.

On the train, my recent gift of allergies started bothering me and I realized I had forgotten to bring a napkin or tissue to blow my nose into. I tried to covertly squeeze the snot onto my fingers and wipe it off on my coat (classy, I know). When I got to Grand Central, I grabbed a napkin from the Starbucks to relieve me of my misery and then went to the Rite Aid for some antihistamines. When I arrived, there were about 15 people waiting to pay. "Fuck it" I thought, contemplating a 180 back toward the subway. But I knew there was no way I could get through the day without some meds so I waited in line to pay.

Task completed, I walked to the subway, where none of the ticket machines were taking credit cards. How convenient! Right after I had spent all of my cash. I went to the info desk, which was inundated with people, and told the woman there that I had no cash, waving a debit card at her instead. She kindly opened the door for me and let me through without paying (score!).

I arrived at the office at 9:20 and introduced myself to the PRESIDENT of the channel! And then I sat down in Kansas boy's seat and hoped that nobody would call.

The Noisy Ghost

I am what I will call half friendly. What this means is that I will be friendly, but only under some circumstances:

- When other people are being friendly to me, I usually reciprocate. Unless they murdered my dog or slept with me without my consent or I think they're talking to someone else, there is really no reason to ignore someone who is saying hello.

- If I don't know someone, but know I have something in common with them, I will usually talk to them. For instance, if I recognize somebody from a class of mine, I often smile, say hi, and sometimes even go so far as to say "How are you?" But that one's only if they're lucky.

- When I randomy feel like it, I will be friendly to people I don't know. Strangely enough, this often happens when I am drunk. Hm.

- If someone is avoiding eye contact with me, I often don't talk to them. They're clearly not interested in acknowledging my presence, so I will leave them alone.


I work in the library at my school, so I end up seeing pretty much anyone who needs a book on Saturdays and Mondays. Sometimes people are friendly, sometimes not, and usually I could care less because I tend to make silly comments in the hopes that I can entertain myself.

When my bipolar, passive aggressive ex-roommate who called me The Devil checked out a book, it was nice to watch her avert her eyes and imagine that I had the power to hold her library books just beyond her grasp.

There is one girl who I'll take the liberty of calling The Noisy Ghost, who is so pale I wonder if she shields her face with an umbrella when she goes outside, or only lets the moonlight bathe her. She also talks about three times as louder than necessary and wears her millions of keys on her belt so that when she walks around they jangle. If she walks too much, I can hear the keys begging me to scream at her.

The Noisy Ghost works at the library. She is also friends with a girl who lives in my house, who I call The Grinch because she is always yelling at us to be quiet and my friends downstairs report that an unbearable stench emanates from her bedroom. Though it surprised me that The Grinch had a social life at all, I was not too shocked by the pairing of The Grinch and The Noisy Ghost. Well, needless to say, The Noisy Ghost has come over a few times and we have also seen each other working at the library. When I pass her on campus (only at night, of course) I usually try a "Hello."

This week, The Noisy Ghost sent out an email to all the library student staff asking if somebody could cover her Friday shift. I, excited to make $16, told her I would do it. So I was surprised when I saw her clanging her way into the library and milling around in the DVD section. Why was I working for her if she was free? If I had begged coworkers to cover my shift on a Friday, I would steer clear of the library. Personally, though, I was still ecstatic enough about the $16 to mind. She could be out taking a nap for all I cared; I wanted my $16!

But when she came to the desk and asked me to get a DVD for her, without writing down its number and without saying Please, I was a little put off.

"Sure," I responded, and retreived the DVD angrily.

There was no recognition in her eyes. There was no "Thanks for covering for me!" Also missing? A "Hello." I smiled at her while I scanned the DVD and told her when it was due. It was obviously a "Hi, I know you" smile.

And from her: Nothing.

Fucking bitch.

I was tricked into ordering that martini, I tell you

This week, I went out to din-din with a couple friends of mine. One of them, Snarkfest, was visiting from out of town, so it was a special occasion. I had just come from my internship, and Biggest Wimp Ever had as well. We met at the restaurant and studied our menus. I knew there would be no drinking that night, because Snarkfest never drinks and Biggest Wimp Ever is underage and afraid to try her luck ordering drinks. Having recently decided to stop spending money on horribly overpriced alcohol I can't afford, I was fine with this.

When the waitress came, she asked if we wanted cocktails. When we told her no, she said "Oh, then I guess I won't give you the spiel."

Spiel? What could this be? Oooh, what if it was reasonably priced drinks! Or... free drinks! I had to find out. "No, go ahead," I told her with a smile.

She informed us that they were out of half of their drinks and pointed to the ones that were safe to order. I was disappointed. My imaginary free drink mocked me.

"Ooooh, you should get a margarita so I can have some!" Biggest Wimp Ever squealed. Then her face fell. "Oh, I forgot you don't like margaritas."

"Hmm, well..." I felt I should do something. "What if I got the pomegranate martini and you had some of it?" Biggest Wimp Ever nodded enthusiastically.

After I ordered, I realized my mistake. There was no way Biggest Wimp Ever, who is also Biggest Cheapskate Ever, would pay for half of the drink. I had planned to actually share the drink with her, as well as the cost. That way, I wouldn't be the only one drinking at the table. But if she wasn't going to pay, why should I give her more than a sip of my $12 martini?

My two choices:
1. I'm a greedy alcoholic who doesn't mind paying for the drink because I'm a little tipsy, or
2. I'm a generous alcoholic who looks good but hates Biggest Wimp Ever for weeks because she stole my expensive alcohol

What would you do?

Because I love digging graves. Especially my own.

So The ex-Ex and I have had a kind of rocky relationship since we've been long distance. To summarize: In our freshman year of college, we had an open relationship for a few months. At the end of that summer, I broke up with him for four months and we didn't talk very much. This October, he asked for an open relationship, we broke up, got back together, broke up, and got back together again.

Neither of us has dated anyone else during these "off" times. He's come close, and so have I. The guy I came close to dating during the open relationship, The Filmmaker, ended up being interested in another girl. After I broke up with The ex-Ex sophomore year, The Filmmaker and I had a couple of drunken make outs/feel-ups, but he then made it clear that he wasn't interested in a relationship with me.

I tried to hang out with him as friends, but he was so unresponsive that I ended up actually feeling bad about myself. So I quit him. I quit calling and pasting that smile on my face when I saw him. I quit him so I could quit feeling boring, unattractive, and needy. I started hating him, because I hated what he had done to me. But I knew that if he suddenly changed his mind, I would jump at the chance to be with him. And every time I was suckered into talking to him, I was reminded just how much I liked him.

I started hanging out with him again this year when his best friend (who is also a friend of mine) returned from abroad. The Filmmaker and I only saw each other once a month or so, but it was no longer a negative experience. At a party one night a few weeks ago, I ran into him and we were both actually excited to see each other after a hiatus of a month or so. When he disappeared from the party, I called him to see where he had gone and we agreed that we should hang out sometime.

Then we talked online and he basically informed me that he wasn't sure if I was worth his time and energy, and that I should make all the effort to be friends with him. I told him he was full of shit and swore him off, resolving not to initiate anything with him.

A couple weeks ago, he ran into me when I was working at the library and we talked for an hour or so before he left to go do work. When he got on Gmail, he messaged me saying he had enjoyed talking to me. You know, as if he was shocked that I could carry an interesting conversation. When I got off work, he invited me over to smoke pot. I went over and we hung out for a while before I came home and went to bed. He invited me over once more last week, and chatted with me on Gmail when we were both online.

This Monday, he asked me if I wanted to have a beer with him when I got off work, so I came over to his place and hung out with him and his roommates. When he told me that he wanted to read my screenplay, we went to his room to look it up. Unfortunately, though, the file wouldn't load on his computer.

"We can go to my room if you still want to read it," I said. "I mean it's only three houses down."

"Yeah, let's do that," he said. We walked over and I handed him the computer. Halfway through reading, he looked up at me sitting in my chair and asked if I wanted to read the parts out loud with him.

"Why?"

"Well, I don't want you to just sit there bored," he said. How considerate.

I joined him on the bed and we read the screenplay out loud. He insisted on playing the voice of the main female character, and we cracked up laughing several times. When we were done reading, I showed him the short film I made last year, and then the video of my surgery.

After that, I had run out of activities. I sat back on my bed and he moved to sit next to me. I was a bit nervous because throughout the night, his arm kept brushing against mine and he kept moving to sit near me. So after talking for a few more minutes, I told him (truthfully) that I should go to bed. At this point it was about 3am and I had to wake up at 8.

He sat up, getting ready to get off the bed, then stopped and looked over at me thoughtfully. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Are there any romantic interests for you here?" He asked.

I laughed a little, thinking of all the two guys I had ever liked at this school and how diseased the other guys here must be. "No!"

"Oh..."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, I think you're really attractive and nice and interesting, so I was just asking."

Oh. Apparently he had been asking if I had any romantic interest in him; not the other men at this school. I had a flashback of my cruel laugh and realized that he must have thought I was scoffing at the idea of being with him. Considering how much I had liked him over the course of the past two years, I had to clarify.

"Oh, no! I thought you were talking about other guys on this campus. I mean... I have always liked you a lot. This is just horrible timing, since me and The ex-Ex got back together over spring break."

"Ohhh, you and The ex-Ex got back together?"

I gave a regretful smile. "Yeah..." This sucked so hard.

"Is that for sure?"

Ah, such a good question. With The ex-Ex's incredible indecisiveness the past six months, it was still hard for me to tell. But officially... "Yeah, it's for sure."

"Ah..." He nodded. "Okay."

"I wish you had told me this three weeks ago!"

"Yeah, well..."

"Yeah."

He then changed the subject and we chatted for a few more minutes before he left. I quickly got ready for bed (it was 3:30 by this point) and decided to check my email before going to sleep. The Filmmaker was online. I messaged him to tell him that I hoped he would still want to hang out as friends, since I like him so much and really enjoy spending time with him. He agreed.

I then continued to stress how unfortunate his timing was and how much I regretted this missed opportunity. We then started flirting, and he tried to convince me to go over to his room. I, frustrated, informed him that I would not cheat on The ex-Ex. But continued to flirt. Which made me wonder: why I was so interested in The Filmmaker after all he had put me through? Was my interest in The Filmmaker an indication that I wasn't really happy being back together with The ex-Ex?

I finally ended the conversation when I realized how incredibly awful I was acting and how guilty I felt for using my doubts about my relationship with The ex-Ex as an excuse to flirt with another guy. Waking up the next morning, I felt almost as bad as I would have if I had actually gone over to The Filmmaker's room. And then felt even worse when The ex-Ex sent me a cute text.

A joke for the ladies

Have you ever heard the joke that goes like this?

Guy: "Hey, I bet you $2 that I can make your boobs shake without touching them."

Girl: "Really?" Girl considers. "Okay! Let's make it $5!"

Guy: "No, I only have $2." Guy pulls $2 out of his wallet, gives to friend who is watching. "Ready?"

Girl: "Okay..." She holds extra still and looks down.

Guy grabs girls boobs and shakes them.

Girl: "What the hell?!"

Guy: "Here's your $2. You win."


I found out alllll about that funny joke on Saturday night.