Miserable to be back here. I just want to cry my eyes out but it won't help. Everything is hot and humid and my bills have arrived. And the more I look at my vacation photos the more I wish it were me and not Raphael who got hit by the truck and had to stay.
What now?
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Lessons Learned
Things I Learned in London:
1. I am not a friendly roomate.
2. I have a profound respect for crossaints.
3. I really CANNOT cook. Nor am I good at oral sex. Nor ironing. Nor laundry. Nor can I keep a room in order for more then ten minutes. Hmm.
4. The appropriate themesong for my lovelife should be "Express Yourself" as opposed to "Material Girl."
5. I depend on intellectual conversation. Or faking it.
6. I lose patience with stupid girls.
7. I have more to offer than the average NYC trophy wife I so longed to be once.
8. Always ask for directions. Even if you don't need them.
9. You get what you pay for when it comes to hotels.
10. I take things too seriously.
11. I own too many clothes!
12. The best kind of man takes you out for a hamburger and will kiss you after you've quiffed.
13. I'm a very bad listener.
14. I'm a very good talker.
15. My best look is definately black cocktail dresses.
16. "Cheers" is thank you.
17. How to speak cockney.
18. I do not need a cellphone.
19. I am not really the ice queen I try to be. Nor do I really enjoy the taste of caviar.
20. I cannot hide my facial expressions. I'm transparent when I'm angry.
21. I can't control everything. I can't run away when things get bad. But it does help to sing; if you can.
1. I am not a friendly roomate.
2. I have a profound respect for crossaints.
3. I really CANNOT cook. Nor am I good at oral sex. Nor ironing. Nor laundry. Nor can I keep a room in order for more then ten minutes. Hmm.
4. The appropriate themesong for my lovelife should be "Express Yourself" as opposed to "Material Girl."
5. I depend on intellectual conversation. Or faking it.
6. I lose patience with stupid girls.
7. I have more to offer than the average NYC trophy wife I so longed to be once.
8. Always ask for directions. Even if you don't need them.
9. You get what you pay for when it comes to hotels.
10. I take things too seriously.
11. I own too many clothes!
12. The best kind of man takes you out for a hamburger and will kiss you after you've quiffed.
13. I'm a very bad listener.
14. I'm a very good talker.
15. My best look is definately black cocktail dresses.
16. "Cheers" is thank you.
17. How to speak cockney.
18. I do not need a cellphone.
19. I am not really the ice queen I try to be. Nor do I really enjoy the taste of caviar.
20. I cannot hide my facial expressions. I'm transparent when I'm angry.
21. I can't control everything. I can't run away when things get bad. But it does help to sing; if you can.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The Fairytale... Ending? (here we go again...)
Well, I want you all to know that after yesterday I was obviously feeling pretty let down about the way things ended with T. Just so up in the air and all.
Well, sometimes men can surprise you. I recieved a tearful phone call this morning; demanding I come over to see him. Of course, by the time Cinderella got to the ball, the prince was drunk out of his wits with a shady night out with his jester friends at a seedy King's Cross club... but you know, I can't explain it, there was something so sweet about the afternoon. The helplessness of it all. Of course, I expected a big dramatic closing, but that's just Casey being Casey. We laughed the entire afternoon (the part when he wasn't sleeping, this is) away lying there in his bed; picking at his face and all. (to his annoyance :) ) It was just good to know I'd be missed. I wouldn't want him walking around miserable all the time... but I wanted to know I had made some impact. And I got that. Whatever the form, I got what I came to get. And a possible Christmas vacation!I don't know what I'm saying. I'm glorifying an afternoon spent with a man who uttered my name in his drunken sleep and cried over missing me. You know you like the person when this become acceptable behavior. He is adorable.
Is this the end? Who knows. But whatever the case be, I've enjoyed every second.
I went out tonight with Lori and I. and had drinks at the ice bar like we said we would. 27-yr-old housemate who just asked out the guy she had been lusting after all week at her job and hasn't slept at home for five days! She was asked to spend another week with him... they're going to Provence... I must admitt, I'm very happy for her. Everything worked out so well for everyone. J. got a job, B. got a drink, L. got drugged up in Holland and I got a London romance.
And now, I'm sitting here on our little street, Leinster Gardens, in the night air I'm going to miss. And a car drives by; I hear the faint sound of "I'm Every Woman," and nearly start to cry. All my friends here in New York, I've missed you all so much.
I'm coming back here someday, I promise you all that.
But for now, it's time to go home.
Cheers to all; and best wishes. All of my love to all of my new friends and findings.
I'm going home...
Well, sometimes men can surprise you. I recieved a tearful phone call this morning; demanding I come over to see him. Of course, by the time Cinderella got to the ball, the prince was drunk out of his wits with a shady night out with his jester friends at a seedy King's Cross club... but you know, I can't explain it, there was something so sweet about the afternoon. The helplessness of it all. Of course, I expected a big dramatic closing, but that's just Casey being Casey. We laughed the entire afternoon (the part when he wasn't sleeping, this is) away lying there in his bed; picking at his face and all. (to his annoyance :) ) It was just good to know I'd be missed. I wouldn't want him walking around miserable all the time... but I wanted to know I had made some impact. And I got that. Whatever the form, I got what I came to get. And a possible Christmas vacation!I don't know what I'm saying. I'm glorifying an afternoon spent with a man who uttered my name in his drunken sleep and cried over missing me. You know you like the person when this become acceptable behavior. He is adorable.
Is this the end? Who knows. But whatever the case be, I've enjoyed every second.
I went out tonight with Lori and I. and had drinks at the ice bar like we said we would. 27-yr-old housemate who just asked out the guy she had been lusting after all week at her job and hasn't slept at home for five days! She was asked to spend another week with him... they're going to Provence... I must admitt, I'm very happy for her. Everything worked out so well for everyone. J. got a job, B. got a drink, L. got drugged up in Holland and I got a London romance.
And now, I'm sitting here on our little street, Leinster Gardens, in the night air I'm going to miss. And a car drives by; I hear the faint sound of "I'm Every Woman," and nearly start to cry. All my friends here in New York, I've missed you all so much.
I'm coming back here someday, I promise you all that.
But for now, it's time to go home.
Cheers to all; and best wishes. All of my love to all of my new friends and findings.
I'm going home...
Saturday, June 24, 2006
A Drink of Diet Coke before the Bar
Went to nap after sad last entry; woke up to the phone. In a mood because I thought it was my roomate's families and ect. Was delighted to see it was T.
Am smiling now as have realized life goes on. Simply because I'm back in America doesn't mean he drops off the face of the Earth... who knows. Maybe we will keep in touch and meet up next time in here or he's there...
Or maybe in twenty years from now, I'll be strolling down the streets of a more glamorous New York City... get approached by a gorgeous blue eyed man in a suit with blue pinstripe...
"Excuse me, Miss, can you give me directions?"
And I'll look at him and he'll look at me because it all hit us at once and he'll yell out:
"YOU'RE THE QUIFFER!!!"
And we'll laugh and grab a drink leading to a glamorous romantic getaway in Aruba because we'd both be rich and fabulous and every night I'd let one out just for kicks...
(If you're reading this, I hope you see I've made my mind up; you will be mine... *clicking tongue cheesily* I mean how could you resist a future of such sexy noises?! And by then, I'll be old enough to suit the grandma panties...)
(Don't get too turned on now, Lad, twenty years isn't so long to wait that you can't hold it!)
I'm laughing now. It's feeling good to laugh today.
I'm not sure whats going to happen to me in the next few months. A new apartment, a real job, graduation, new friends, new life entirely, really. But wherever the road takes me, I hope it leads back to London someday. I've loved it here. You'd be surprised how much you can change over just a month. New perspectives, new things to look forward to, and even a panic attack and presumed throat infection. Everything melded together; colorful and on cue, just like Raphael said it would. Winding up into a colorful box of memories to open on a rainy day.
So let us drink and close this cheesy cliched ending wiht a smile and a quiff.
Miss you, T. X. Thank you. For everything.
Am smiling now as have realized life goes on. Simply because I'm back in America doesn't mean he drops off the face of the Earth... who knows. Maybe we will keep in touch and meet up next time in here or he's there...
Or maybe in twenty years from now, I'll be strolling down the streets of a more glamorous New York City... get approached by a gorgeous blue eyed man in a suit with blue pinstripe...
"Excuse me, Miss, can you give me directions?"
And I'll look at him and he'll look at me because it all hit us at once and he'll yell out:
"YOU'RE THE QUIFFER!!!"
And we'll laugh and grab a drink leading to a glamorous romantic getaway in Aruba because we'd both be rich and fabulous and every night I'd let one out just for kicks...
(If you're reading this, I hope you see I've made my mind up; you will be mine... *clicking tongue cheesily* I mean how could you resist a future of such sexy noises?! And by then, I'll be old enough to suit the grandma panties...)
(Don't get too turned on now, Lad, twenty years isn't so long to wait that you can't hold it!)
I'm laughing now. It's feeling good to laugh today.
I'm not sure whats going to happen to me in the next few months. A new apartment, a real job, graduation, new friends, new life entirely, really. But wherever the road takes me, I hope it leads back to London someday. I've loved it here. You'd be surprised how much you can change over just a month. New perspectives, new things to look forward to, and even a panic attack and presumed throat infection. Everything melded together; colorful and on cue, just like Raphael said it would. Winding up into a colorful box of memories to open on a rainy day.
So let us drink and close this cheesy cliched ending wiht a smile and a quiff.
Miss you, T. X. Thank you. For everything.
Numb
Today was the goodbye T day. I want you all to know we tried again on Wednesday, on his birthday, and it was perfect. Last night was sheer bliss as well; he cooked for me, even!
And here I am.
Here. In this sad townhouse that no longer feels like home all by myself.
I wanted to write this entry; telling you all that things went perfectly; that nothing happened and I didn't live in America after all, and I don't have to leave on Monday and that we'd actually make something of our friendship; but I can't.
I sat there, in the train car, and watched him walk away. It was all I could do.
How do I feel? I have no clue. It is a "bit sad" like he says I guess, but it's more of a feeling of shame. It is a shame this should happen this way. It is a shame that again, I'd be standing there as he went, and then as I went away, back to New York, back to my old life, back to bitching and school and living in my illusionary world of trying to impress people in the end who don't really matter. I didn't know what to say the entire time; the cabride, a morning nap; nothing. It just played itself out like the rest of our time together, easy; one thing after the next; smoothly.
I'm going to be okay because I have to. I have alot to do in this next year of college. I'm a strong person and I'm not going to be sad or sit around and mope. I've got a job to land and the buisness world to take over. A book to write and stories to tell. People to meet and adventures to have, too.
There's so much left to do.
In the cab ride back, I asked if he thought we would have eventually had a relationship; had things been different. He said he thought we would; it would be the only natural thing to have done.
And then he looked down and said, "Ah, well."
He's right; it's just one of those things, just a shame. A misfortune. What could have been done? I live thousands of miles away...
I know I'm too old to believe in fairytales now. But I really wanted the happy ending this time.
And here I am.
Here. In this sad townhouse that no longer feels like home all by myself.
I wanted to write this entry; telling you all that things went perfectly; that nothing happened and I didn't live in America after all, and I don't have to leave on Monday and that we'd actually make something of our friendship; but I can't.
I sat there, in the train car, and watched him walk away. It was all I could do.
How do I feel? I have no clue. It is a "bit sad" like he says I guess, but it's more of a feeling of shame. It is a shame this should happen this way. It is a shame that again, I'd be standing there as he went, and then as I went away, back to New York, back to my old life, back to bitching and school and living in my illusionary world of trying to impress people in the end who don't really matter. I didn't know what to say the entire time; the cabride, a morning nap; nothing. It just played itself out like the rest of our time together, easy; one thing after the next; smoothly.
I'm going to be okay because I have to. I have alot to do in this next year of college. I'm a strong person and I'm not going to be sad or sit around and mope. I've got a job to land and the buisness world to take over. A book to write and stories to tell. People to meet and adventures to have, too.
There's so much left to do.
In the cab ride back, I asked if he thought we would have eventually had a relationship; had things been different. He said he thought we would; it would be the only natural thing to have done.
And then he looked down and said, "Ah, well."
He's right; it's just one of those things, just a shame. A misfortune. What could have been done? I live thousands of miles away...
I know I'm too old to believe in fairytales now. But I really wanted the happy ending this time.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
I Cannot Believe You Did That...
Sitting here in this internet cafe again and sobbing my eyes out on the inside. You see, I sort of lied when I said things were going great with T. Things are great with this T, BUT not great with me. He is wonderful, sensitive and sweet like the men one dates should be, but it's me who has the issue this time. I am mortified over an incident that happened Thursday night.
OK. Thursday night we went out just like we've been doing maybe three times a week here. I was wearing my brand new black silk dress and feeling pretty gorgeous in it. Everyone stared as I walked down the street, or maybe they didn't and I just imagined they did which, really, is just as good. I felt really great, despite the crazy grandma "knickers" I was wearing due to lack of clean clothing. I hadn't shaved my legs (which I decided to let free of pantyhose) either. But I felt beautiful in my brand new outfit.
T thought I looked good, too. Oh, you should have seen him. All pretty like in his blue Paul Smith suit (he's VERY concious of what he's wearing) with a tie I didn't like but no one asked me. We had white wine at a classy bar around Bond Street and then a shot of Jameson at a nearby pub. Feeling particularly romantic in the streets walking home (by now it was midnight) we decided to get a room for the night.
OK. This story should have had a happy ending but it doesn't. A hysterical ending I will laugh about for days once I'm safe in America but not now when I'm here in Britian. T, before I get into this situation, is snobby like I am and easily disgusted. And, as mentioned before I like this guy, so part of me actually cares about chewing with my mouth open and enjoying my disgusting meals of Subway and my own wonderful cooking... I aim to impress!
Oh, but it wasn't in the cards. The hotel was gross and disgusting and made our room in Paris look like a palace. I spilled chocolate all over the white sheets which left some awful stains, as previously mentioned I didn't shave and even had on scary grandma panties. Great. And I stood there in all my untoned glory in front of this man, who even has that chiseled muscle men in cologne ads have; you know the indent just over the hip... (I didn't know real people actually had that!!!) I never felt so disgusting in my life.
Until what happened next.
Well, it just so turns out in my twenty one years I have never had the shame of quiffing in public.
OH, but God is a strange and mysterious Woman... and I assume She had it in for me. For at the WORST POSSIBLE MOMENT, I let out the loudest string of quiffs for what felt like a grueling 100 years... He actually had time to ask, "Casey, what's happening?" inbetween.
I.
Wanted.
To.
Die.
Oh, but T, winner and fabulous person till the end stayed with me anyway. I spent the time before I went to sleep thinking of ways I could disappear (osmosis? apparation? simply walking out?!) and bargaining with whatever higher power was willing to listen that if they could simply turn the time back I'd join Greenpeace, throw my self into a volcano as human sacrafice, shave my coveted hair and become a monk, anything.
Nothing.
We woke up the next day and had a sweet morning, breakfast and a kiss goodbye as my train left and he went to work. Laughing at the whole ordeal. I didn't expect him to call again, mind you this is a man easily disgusted, but he did and we spoke later that night. We made plans for today, Sunday, and he called again today. But it is Father's Day, and his brother flew in.
I don't know if I believe him to be totally honest, and am sitting here feeling rejected and gross. I don't blame him for cancelling. I cannot believe what this man is putting me through; I just want everything to be so perfect around him, and oh, all that worry, it just messes up in the end. Under ordinary circumstances I'd say, "Well, this is me, take it or leave it," but as much as I try to hide it, I do like the guy. I've always said that if I'm going to be let down I'd rather be let down rudely, like "Fuck off!" then "Casey, I feel terrible, let me take you out tomorrow." I just wish Ash were up, or Andy were around, or Sher, anyone, to bitch to. But as we're on different time zones this is kind of impossible. Cory wrote me, though, talking about "Oh, when you get back we'll have a birthday drink and maybe more, who knows..." only making T look even better and thus making me feel worse about what happened.
I wouldn't call me again, either.
So another sad story is developed and I'm about to wallow in my own miseries. I'm allowing myself anything I want for breakfast or, lunch now, as it is late. Anything to make me feel better. I just want to cry. Of all times for that to happen to me!!! I know, it's funny but really, I'm not laughing right now. And do I see him tomorrow or save him the trouble of having to reject me again and just say, "Oh, well I leave on Monday, have a good life..."
Although, one good thing has erupted from all of this, I'm actually astarting to look forward to going home. I tried to rember my phone ring last night, and I couldn't. It's such a different life, going back to paying the bills and working at a job I hate and doing the same things day in and day out, being single and pathetic and without a hot half Egyptian WHO THE WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN IN FRONT OF DID.
Of all people this could have happened in front of. The first person I genuinely respect and date at the same time. I wouldn't have cared half as much if this were Jonathan, or Joe, or Derek even, or any of the stupid guys I've dated. Even Cory! But this one...
I feel marginally better now that its all out on the internet, the whole world can laugh at it. We can all have a drink and sit back in the park as I will do today, relaxing and enjoying the spoils of youth and what disasters parted us from our good men and drew us into the bad ones.
OK. Thursday night we went out just like we've been doing maybe three times a week here. I was wearing my brand new black silk dress and feeling pretty gorgeous in it. Everyone stared as I walked down the street, or maybe they didn't and I just imagined they did which, really, is just as good. I felt really great, despite the crazy grandma "knickers" I was wearing due to lack of clean clothing. I hadn't shaved my legs (which I decided to let free of pantyhose) either. But I felt beautiful in my brand new outfit.
T thought I looked good, too. Oh, you should have seen him. All pretty like in his blue Paul Smith suit (he's VERY concious of what he's wearing) with a tie I didn't like but no one asked me. We had white wine at a classy bar around Bond Street and then a shot of Jameson at a nearby pub. Feeling particularly romantic in the streets walking home (by now it was midnight) we decided to get a room for the night.
OK. This story should have had a happy ending but it doesn't. A hysterical ending I will laugh about for days once I'm safe in America but not now when I'm here in Britian. T, before I get into this situation, is snobby like I am and easily disgusted. And, as mentioned before I like this guy, so part of me actually cares about chewing with my mouth open and enjoying my disgusting meals of Subway and my own wonderful cooking... I aim to impress!
Oh, but it wasn't in the cards. The hotel was gross and disgusting and made our room in Paris look like a palace. I spilled chocolate all over the white sheets which left some awful stains, as previously mentioned I didn't shave and even had on scary grandma panties. Great. And I stood there in all my untoned glory in front of this man, who even has that chiseled muscle men in cologne ads have; you know the indent just over the hip... (I didn't know real people actually had that!!!) I never felt so disgusting in my life.
Until what happened next.
Well, it just so turns out in my twenty one years I have never had the shame of quiffing in public.
OH, but God is a strange and mysterious Woman... and I assume She had it in for me. For at the WORST POSSIBLE MOMENT, I let out the loudest string of quiffs for what felt like a grueling 100 years... He actually had time to ask, "Casey, what's happening?" inbetween.
I.
Wanted.
To.
Die.
Oh, but T, winner and fabulous person till the end stayed with me anyway. I spent the time before I went to sleep thinking of ways I could disappear (osmosis? apparation? simply walking out?!) and bargaining with whatever higher power was willing to listen that if they could simply turn the time back I'd join Greenpeace, throw my self into a volcano as human sacrafice, shave my coveted hair and become a monk, anything.
Nothing.
We woke up the next day and had a sweet morning, breakfast and a kiss goodbye as my train left and he went to work. Laughing at the whole ordeal. I didn't expect him to call again, mind you this is a man easily disgusted, but he did and we spoke later that night. We made plans for today, Sunday, and he called again today. But it is Father's Day, and his brother flew in.
I don't know if I believe him to be totally honest, and am sitting here feeling rejected and gross. I don't blame him for cancelling. I cannot believe what this man is putting me through; I just want everything to be so perfect around him, and oh, all that worry, it just messes up in the end. Under ordinary circumstances I'd say, "Well, this is me, take it or leave it," but as much as I try to hide it, I do like the guy. I've always said that if I'm going to be let down I'd rather be let down rudely, like "Fuck off!" then "Casey, I feel terrible, let me take you out tomorrow." I just wish Ash were up, or Andy were around, or Sher, anyone, to bitch to. But as we're on different time zones this is kind of impossible. Cory wrote me, though, talking about "Oh, when you get back we'll have a birthday drink and maybe more, who knows..." only making T look even better and thus making me feel worse about what happened.
I wouldn't call me again, either.
So another sad story is developed and I'm about to wallow in my own miseries. I'm allowing myself anything I want for breakfast or, lunch now, as it is late. Anything to make me feel better. I just want to cry. Of all times for that to happen to me!!! I know, it's funny but really, I'm not laughing right now. And do I see him tomorrow or save him the trouble of having to reject me again and just say, "Oh, well I leave on Monday, have a good life..."
Although, one good thing has erupted from all of this, I'm actually astarting to look forward to going home. I tried to rember my phone ring last night, and I couldn't. It's such a different life, going back to paying the bills and working at a job I hate and doing the same things day in and day out, being single and pathetic and without a hot half Egyptian WHO THE WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN IN FRONT OF DID.
Of all people this could have happened in front of. The first person I genuinely respect and date at the same time. I wouldn't have cared half as much if this were Jonathan, or Joe, or Derek even, or any of the stupid guys I've dated. Even Cory! But this one...
I feel marginally better now that its all out on the internet, the whole world can laugh at it. We can all have a drink and sit back in the park as I will do today, relaxing and enjoying the spoils of youth and what disasters parted us from our good men and drew us into the bad ones.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Updates!
OK. I would like to apologize for not posting as frequently as oringinally promised. I had a panic attack last week and basically needed some rest and its so hard to find a computer.
Well, ever since I've had that nervous breakdown, my appearence in the office did a whole 360. The Senior Editor of fashion for Maire Claire ahs taken em as her pet. She says we're very similar. She laughed at me when she overheard me complain that I hated getting coffee for her.
I come back to NYC in a week, and would write more, but there's so mcuh to tell.
Things are going fantastically with T.
Andy, we need to talk the minute I get back. I have a hysterical story not suitable for internet!
Well, ever since I've had that nervous breakdown, my appearence in the office did a whole 360. The Senior Editor of fashion for Maire Claire ahs taken em as her pet. She says we're very similar. She laughed at me when she overheard me complain that I hated getting coffee for her.
I come back to NYC in a week, and would write more, but there's so mcuh to tell.
Things are going fantastically with T.
Andy, we need to talk the minute I get back. I have a hysterical story not suitable for internet!
Monday, June 05, 2006
The SweetestThing
T dinner tonight. Am very much enjoying his company and he keeps calling.
Part of me wants to yell out whilst we're sitting there "WILL YOU MARRY ME SO WE CAN MAKE A PACK OF 1/4 EGYPTIAN BABIES AND CAN WE GET STARTED NOW?!" He's such a great guy. But somehow I restrain myself; as offering to mother his children might not be the best idea; as he'd run away screaming, most appropriately. It's odd. I find myself undressing this man with my eyes as he talks about his job. I'm trying to listen! Or perhaps we'll go for the wordless approach and I'll simply fling my legs around his neck... actions speak louder than words, afterall...
(And we thought female chauvenisim was over?)
Family is safe thank God, lack of answering the phone at home concerned me. Especially when no one called me after Paris, which was the place I wanted to leave most. Londontown for me, I suppose.
Rapheal and I went down to McDonald's and had fries and pies. Queensway is so nice now that the weather is better. However, all we do in this strange country is eat. Bathing suits? I think not. He asked me what would happen with T once I left. I said I didn't even think about it. I guess things all fall into place; one way or the next. Why push?
Am loving this place; am feeling so free lately, you've no idea.
Peace at last.
Part of me wants to yell out whilst we're sitting there "WILL YOU MARRY ME SO WE CAN MAKE A PACK OF 1/4 EGYPTIAN BABIES AND CAN WE GET STARTED NOW?!" He's such a great guy. But somehow I restrain myself; as offering to mother his children might not be the best idea; as he'd run away screaming, most appropriately. It's odd. I find myself undressing this man with my eyes as he talks about his job. I'm trying to listen! Or perhaps we'll go for the wordless approach and I'll simply fling my legs around his neck... actions speak louder than words, afterall...
(And we thought female chauvenisim was over?)
Family is safe thank God, lack of answering the phone at home concerned me. Especially when no one called me after Paris, which was the place I wanted to leave most. Londontown for me, I suppose.
Rapheal and I went down to McDonald's and had fries and pies. Queensway is so nice now that the weather is better. However, all we do in this strange country is eat. Bathing suits? I think not. He asked me what would happen with T once I left. I said I didn't even think about it. I guess things all fall into place; one way or the next. Why push?
Am loving this place; am feeling so free lately, you've no idea.
Peace at last.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Blessings and Failures
Well, for all those who need to know, I love and miss all of you terribly. Sometimes I hate this place. My job at Marie Claire is, at best, less than glamorous. I sit and do returns of samples used in photo shoots in a closet all day without even a chair. Today I went on a photoshoot where no one talked to me and even went so far as to bash Americans in my very prescence. I nearly went home crying.
But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having the time of my life, all editors of fashion (my boss is easily the ugliest woman I've ever seen... she kind of looks like Paul McCartney AFTER the good years... and they hired HER as fashion editor?!) aside... I'm making friends with the other interns at my office. The English girls love the way I speak and love nothing more than imitating me. We laugh alot and it keeps me going through the eight hour days. I'm beginning to love living at my flat with my roomates; I love the feeling of for once being in a place where I'm always welcomed.
NOW down to the real buisness. I've met the man of my dreams here. A sexy engineer who is both Irish and Egyptian (the strangest mix I've ever heard of) who just came up and asked me out at Piccadilly Circus the second night I was here. We've gone out twice already and he keeps calling. His name is T. He's 5'10 with dark hair, olive skin, and sparkling water blue eyes. He's the kind of man women look at in the street; obsessed with working out. But you know, dating T has put a new perspective on my views on relationships ingeneral. T isn't what I'vethought myself to hbecome used to in New York. T is more... Smart and successful, but not the lavish trust fund baby type I've become used to in New York. I am dating this man solely for himself. He is sweet caring and funny. He loves thicker girls like myself and thinks that I will be on the cover of Marie Claire. I never thought I'd actually find someone I genuinely respect; someone, who, sadly I know I may very easily not be able to keep as I have to go home and he knows that too... I am, for the first time in my life, with someone just to be with them, even if it may not be anymore than for a month. I never knew I could want soemthing rational, something more than the image of being happy. I want to cry my eyes with happiness and emotion when I think about how long it's been since I've been cherished this way, even by this virtual stranger... I didn't think after all I've been through at home, with friends, everyone leaving me, dying before we hit 18, this constant life of a stolen sense of security, that I could find happiness with another person solely for the sake of being happy. A new part of me is growing in this city, and I'm beginning to feel the winds of maturity all around me. Discovering what it means... what everything means... and how litttle I actually know.
I miss my home and my family and my friends, who I realize being here, I love more than life itself.
But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having the time of my life, all editors of fashion (my boss is easily the ugliest woman I've ever seen... she kind of looks like Paul McCartney AFTER the good years... and they hired HER as fashion editor?!) aside... I'm making friends with the other interns at my office. The English girls love the way I speak and love nothing more than imitating me. We laugh alot and it keeps me going through the eight hour days. I'm beginning to love living at my flat with my roomates; I love the feeling of for once being in a place where I'm always welcomed.
NOW down to the real buisness. I've met the man of my dreams here. A sexy engineer who is both Irish and Egyptian (the strangest mix I've ever heard of) who just came up and asked me out at Piccadilly Circus the second night I was here. We've gone out twice already and he keeps calling. His name is T. He's 5'10 with dark hair, olive skin, and sparkling water blue eyes. He's the kind of man women look at in the street; obsessed with working out. But you know, dating T has put a new perspective on my views on relationships ingeneral. T isn't what I'vethought myself to hbecome used to in New York. T is more... Smart and successful, but not the lavish trust fund baby type I've become used to in New York. I am dating this man solely for himself. He is sweet caring and funny. He loves thicker girls like myself and thinks that I will be on the cover of Marie Claire. I never thought I'd actually find someone I genuinely respect; someone, who, sadly I know I may very easily not be able to keep as I have to go home and he knows that too... I am, for the first time in my life, with someone just to be with them, even if it may not be anymore than for a month. I never knew I could want soemthing rational, something more than the image of being happy. I want to cry my eyes with happiness and emotion when I think about how long it's been since I've been cherished this way, even by this virtual stranger... I didn't think after all I've been through at home, with friends, everyone leaving me, dying before we hit 18, this constant life of a stolen sense of security, that I could find happiness with another person solely for the sake of being happy. A new part of me is growing in this city, and I'm beginning to feel the winds of maturity all around me. Discovering what it means... what everything means... and how litttle I actually know.
I miss my home and my family and my friends, who I realize being here, I love more than life itself.
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