We Might As Well be Strangers.

And to think you had nerve to question why...

Morbidly depressed. But, it is a feeling.

Everything else is going smoothly. This is just an insignificant bump on this road.

Gucci Mucci Pucci

Painting my own nails as have adjusted lifestyle to accommodate rent.

Feeling hopeful as the week pans out.

Black wide legged pant suit tomorrow with a stacked heel. I got this in the bag. I'm going to walk in there tomorrow with confidence. I'm afraid in the sense that I own not a single item from this vendor, but whatever. What can I do? I will speak I will smile, I will be who I am. Good at my job. Good at trying. Eager to grow and learn and train. MBA educated.

I am what I am. And they asked to meet that.

I had my father nail a full-length mirror into my closet. For years, I avoided looking at my body, my mother's sickness she's lived with forever. I felt fat in everything, but couldn't stop eating or starving.

I look at it lately, boldly. It isn't perfect, but it's all I've got. And the more I see it, the less I care.

The point I'm trying to make is that I'm finding you grow comfortable with things as they are, using what you have as you grow older. Now that I know I don't have unlimited funds, I spend more wisely.  I wear the clothes I have because I can.The stairs are melting my thighs, and the cooking I get better at all the time. I sleep best after yoga. I even asked that man out to a drink, a HUGE step for me, obsessed with avoiding men for fear of the ever-inevitable "he's just not that into you." (He said sure, he'd like to go.)

Maybe we all feel rejection, maybe we all feel fat. Maybe we all get nervous and self-doubtful.

Maybe that's ok.

I'm starting to believe that. I never looked to see what was beyond the doubt. (There is such a thing as possibility.) I think that Catholics are so focused on finality that we forget such a thing as the large picture. I'm beginning to be open to that idea, and the idea that I'm not so different, after all. Both wonderful possibilities.

"You'll see, everything, it falls into place."

We all believe that, me, and A, who I love more than I know. I'm so grateful he is healthy at last. I must clean for him and J, coming over soon. My loves.

I think it's all a continuous road of acceptance. You try. And that is the main thing. Things go better for those who try.

Maybe we don;t all need to want the same things, and everywhere I need to be, I am.

I'm feeling really positive lately. I feel the love I never noticed all around me. It's wonderful, really.

And Here We Go Again...

The thing of it is, I can't seem to let it go. You have this, and the worst thing is, you know it. It's so odd you should think of it now, I mean, just out of the blue.

I go about my business now alone and everyday, just getting through it. I KNEW you would, so much that when I finally saw you there, it didn't surprise me. I didn't even enjoy the moment, just sat there getting angry at the situation I found myself in. (Dirtbag.) You wasted so much of my energy throughout the years, I'll never thank you for it. But then, I look up and you smile, and that all goes out the door...

You give me just enough to keep me going. You saw I was chugging along, feeling good, really good, making big changes without the distraction you became, and there you are. (And there I went.) I can't help it. I look at all your silly failed girls and, well, maybe you should know I was the best choice all along. Stupid boy. (I guess we all have hopes?) But there is some sick satisfaction in me for knowing you got rejected. Is that wrong? You like garbage, a lot of men do, no shame. But I've never been, never will be.

I can be silly, ridiculous, materialistic and shallow faced. But it's a front. I'm testing you. (And admittedly, so nervous, I'm ready to jump out of my hide.) I want to see where we stand. I want to see what you think, what you see, what you care about. I want to see if you fall for it. When you don't, you pass. When I visit Pelham Bay and see all the traces of the girl I can't leave behind, in the park, treading along the water where the fish can't swim, in the large weeds in my cargo shorts, I remember. I'm always going to be her, and if you're kind, and honest, and give me the time of day beyond the stupid banter, I'll show her to you. I dream of taking you to Edgewater Beach in the summer, I want to show you the enormous fields of sunflowers that grow in August in the woods, I want to drink a beer with you on the pier. There's nothing more I'd like then to take off this stupid costume, but it's not always an option. She breaks easily, and I hate to give her away. She's all I got. I've got to trust you.

There is something special about you that keeps me smiling. Maybe you think the same about me? the years I've known you... I knew it. All this time, I knew it.

I knew you.

(Maybe that sounds silly, but its true. Some things just make sense; can't explain it. I've always been like this.)

You come into my life perennially. (I always look forward to Spring.)

And so, here we go again...

Reality

I don't actually know who it was who said that lonliness is the human condition. My new home is wonderful, except in that it is empty.

I miss coming home and wanting to share my day over the phone with someone. I miss having real conversation with a man, not ridiculous meaningless banter I make when I'm nervous. I miss going uinto a room on someone's arm. I miss going out to dinner, getting drunk off cocktails, helpung to pick out a tie. J and I were so close that we had our own language. I miss that bond with someone.

I feel the last two years were big hits to my self- esteem. I felt sad and inadequate for so long that, now that I'm ready to feel differently, I'm not even sure where to start. It hurts to think of all the time and opportunities I've wasted.

I cried the other day because I once had hopes, and is it too late now to think that my life could be anymore than work and career? My job is the one love in my life, but I wonder is that enough? I've kept myself safe for so long that, can I even break it?

I'm scared and hurt and tired on the inside. I'm worn down thinking about all the negative. But is that really it?

Live from the UES...

Broke and fabulous.

I have discovered things about myself:

1. I cannot cook. I tell people (whoever will listen) this and they usually say, oh, well you will learn. Nope.

2. I am a spoiled child.

3. I also WAS a spoiled child.

4. I look good with my natural shade of light brown hair.

5. I do not enjoy being alone.

6. I am obsessed with my day glo turquoise bathroom.

7. I am grateful to work in an office.

8. I don't like restrictions.

Feeling good was good enough for me.

-Janis Joplin

Dear to Me

When I really think it over, I want to take you out. You disgusting, self-obsessed piece of New York trash.

You like to think you're good in bed, we all know you sleep alone. You drink only women's beer and pile them on without a drop for anyone else. Everyone around you makes you feel short because, in reality, you're pathetically small as a person.

You have a mean spirited sneer I once understood as ironically attractive. Everyone thinks you're a joke, it was only me who didn't get the punchline. You wear eye cream at night and a suit that stopped fitting years ago in the day. You match your broken shoes you name the price of every time we ask. You walk with a bounce as if you were so excited by yourself. Perhaps you are? (There is someone for everyone, isn't there?) And bite the nails I know you file daily. I guess it is weird that we don't talk; so close you believe you are to me! (Isn't it all of us who want to be close to you, lovely? We run ourselves into the ground every night chasing after your ether!) Oddly enough, you have only a few friends. I guess we simply can't compare to your company!

You feel upset when people are angry at you. You expect me to understand you when you're being your usual bitter self. You think we should adjust to you, with no efforts on your part to join the rest of us. You expect what you don't give. You see yourself as, we, I suppose, should all see you. (Isn't it a drag when it doesn't go that way?) Everything you've done is fantastic. We all wait to hear from you. Nothing is without your judgement, properly so, as, well, you do know everything.

I'll never know what exactly I paid for in knowing you.

(But I think I'm ready for a new billing cycle.)

You have no idea the price you owe.

I look at you and remind myself why I am, and always was, myself.

And for that alone, I'll smile for you.

Merry Happy

I hate my new home. It is tiny. It is too expensive. I feel miserable and exhausted thinking of how I am going to live there.

That disgusting man asked me to a cigar. Creep. You know someone just wants you for sex when they wait until just the right moment to ask. And since when do I smoke cigars?! He might as well asked me to a football game. Poor man, I'm just exhausted this week. He might not be so bad, at least a good mentor and friend if I need one, and let's face it, I just might.

I worry over everything. It all scares me. I want to be hugged and to be told everything will be alright. I want to lie down on my grandmother's sofa and cry myself to pleasant. It is sad to have grown up without being hugged, something maybe I still wait for. If I ever have a baby, I will be sure to hug them. It is the oddest thing I used to cringe whenever J tried. I miss him for it now. My next boyfriend must give good hugs and let me cry all over his suit jacket of I need to, just not asking questions and letting me be sad. Be frustrated. Be depleted. Be angry. Feel helpless. Feel as of the world is against me. Yes, he must do that, I don't care if he doesn't know what to say. Just allowing me to do that is all I need.

Why is it I am trying at all? My job seems impossible. It's just exhausting. This lousy week!