Absolutely broke. Although I just got paid this week. Most of the paycheck goes to rent, I don't even wanna think about it. How do I work so much and still manage to be so broke all the time? It's not like I blow money on things like $200 pairs of jeans or shoes. I spend it on shit like rent and bills. Go figure.
Myspace is slowly boring me. Nothing exciting ever happens there anymore.
I envy people who have maddd comments on their blogs.
I need to finish Seven Seconds. It's down to the last couple of chapters now. It's taken me pretty much the better part of a year to write (on and off) like 50 pages worth of shit. Lazy ass.
I have all kinds of exciting sewing projects swimming around in my head, and have even managed to sketch out designs for a skirt and a dress! (Yay!) Although I absolutely have no clue about my measurements or how to actually go about starting the whole thing. Maybe I should practice cutting the designs on paper before I actually get to cut the fabric. I've already altered this vest that I have though, and it turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself.
Stuff I had today:
1 glass ice mocha
2 glasses sweet lemonade
2 mugs milky tea
4 Ferrero Rocher chocolates
2 McChicken sandwiches (ugh)
1/2 a chocolate chip cookie
Rice-A-Roni and sauteed broccoli (dinner)
As usual I skipped breakfast and lunch. God I have a terrible diet.
I'm excited to see The Other Boleyn Girl in the theater. And Penelope. I'm currently in the middle of Frances Mayes' A Year In The World (she's in the British Isles right now). I'm feverishly anticipating the publication of Elizabeth George's Careless In Red (as you can tell from my previous blogs)...it's going to be a brilliant read.
I'm raring for another good show somewhere. Come back to Chicago The Casting Out. Morrissey. Somebody. Anybody.
The word of the day from Dictionary.com is :
temerarious \tem-uh-RAIR-ee-uhs\, adjective:
Recklessly or presumptuously daring; rash.
My weekend will be all about work. I suppose I have to make a living somehow.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Watch The Trailer
Can't wait to watch this movie, Natalie Portman looks amazing and the costume design is brilliant! The book was great as well although how faithful the movie is to the book remains to be seen.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
He found the body on the forty-third day of his walk. By then, the end of April had arrived, although he had only the vaguest idea of that. Had he been capable of noticing his surroundings, the condition of the flora along the coast might have given him a broad hint as to the time of year. He’d started out when the only sign of life renewed was the promise of yellow buds on the gorse that grew sporadically along the cliff tops, but by April, the gorse was wild with color, and yellow archangel climbed in tight whorls along upright stems in hedgerows on the rare occasions when he wandered into a village. Soon foxglove would be nodding on roadside verges, and lamb’s foot would expose fiery heads from the hedgerows and the drystone walls that defined individual fields in this part of the world. But those bits of burgeoning life were in the future, and he’d been walking these days that had blended into weeks in an effort to avoid both the thought of the future and the memory of the past.
He carried virtually nothing with him. An ancient sleeping bag. A rucksack with a bit of food that he replenished when the thought occurred to him. A bottle within that rucksack that he filled with water in the morning if water was to be had near the site where he’d slept. Everything else, he wore. One waxed jacket. One hat. One tattersall shirt. One pair of trousers. Boots. Socks. Underclothes. He’d come out for this walk unprepared and uncaring that he was unprepared. He’d known only that he had to walk or he had to remain at home and sleep, and if he remained at home and slept, he’d come to realise that eventually he would will himself not to awaken again.
So he walked. There had seemed no alternative. Steep ascents to cliff tops, the wind striking his face, the sharp salt air desiccating his skin, scrambling across beaches where reefs erupted from sand and stone when the tide was low, his breath coming short, rain soaking his legs, stones pressing insistently against his soles…These things would remind him that he was alive and that he was intended to remain so.
He was thus engaged in a wager with fate. If he survived the walk, so be it. If he did not, his ending was in the hands of the gods. In the plural, he decided. He could not think that there might be a single Supreme Being out there, pressing fingers into the keyboard of a divine computer, inserting this or forever deleting that.
His family had asked him not to go, for they’d seen his state although like so many families of his class, they’d not made any direct mention of it. Just his mother saying, “Please don’t do this, darling,” and his brother suggesting, with his face gone pale and always the threat of another relapse hanging over him and over them all, “Let me go with you,” and his sister murmuring with her arm round his waist, “You’ll get past it. One does,” but none of them mentioning her name or the word itself, that terrible, eternal, definitive word.
Nor did he mention it. Nor did he mention anything other than his need to walk.
The forty-third day of this walk had taken the same shape as the forty-two days that had preceded it. He’d awakened where he’d fallen on the previous night, with absolutely no knowledge where he was aside from somewhere along the South-West Coast Path. He’d climbed out of his sleeping bag, donned his jacket and his boots, drunk the rest of his water, and begun to move. In mid-afternoon the weather, which had been uneasy most of the day, made up its mind and blew dark clouds across the sky. In the wind, they piled one upon the other, as if an immense shield in the distance were holding them in place and allowing them no further passage, having made the promise of a storm.
He was struggling in the wind to the top of a cliff, climbing from a V-shaped cove where he’d rested for an hour or so and watched the waves slamming into broad fins of slate that formed the reefs in this place. The tide was just beginning to come in, and he’d noted this. He needed to be well above it. He needed to find some sort of shelter as well.
Near the top of the cliff, he sat. He was winded, and he found it odd that no amount of walking these many days had seemed sufficient to build his endurance for the myriad climbs he was making along the coast. So he paused to catch his breath. He felt a twinge that he recognised as hunger, and he used the minutes of his respite to draw from his rucksack the last of a dried sausage he’d purchased when he’d come to a hamlet along his route. He gnawed it down to nothing, realised that he was also thirsty, and stood to see if anything resembling habitation was nearby: hamlet, fishing cottage, holiday home, or farm.
There was nothing. But thirst was good, he thought with resignation. Thirst was like the sharp stones pressing into the soles of his shoes, like the wind, like the rain. It reminded him, when reminders were needed.
He turned back to the sea. He saw that a lone surfer bobbed there, just beyond the breaking waves. Whether it was a man or woman, he could not tell. At this time of year, the figure was entirely clothed in black neoprene. It was the only way to enjoy the frigid water.
He knew nothing about surfing, but he knew a fellow cenobite when he saw one. There was no religious meditation involved, but they were both alone in places where they should not have been alone. They were also both alone in conditions that were not suited for what they were attempting. For him, the coming rain—for there could be little doubt that rain was moments away from falling—would make his walk along the coast slippery and dangerous. For the surfer, the exposed reefs on shore demanded an answer to the question that asked why he surfed at all.
He had no answer and little interest in developing one. His inadequate meal finished, he resumed his walk. The cliffs were friable in this part of coast, unlike the cliffs where he’d begun his walk. There they were largely granite, igneous intrusions into the landscape, forced upon ancient lava, limestone, and slate. Although worn by time, weather, and the restless sea, they were nonetheless solid underfoot, and a walker could venture near the edge and watch the roiling sea or observe the gulls seeking perches among the crags. Here, however, the cliff edge was culm: slate, shale, and sandstone, and cliff bases were marked by mounds of the stony detritus called clitter that fell regularly to the beach below. Venturing near the edge meant a certain fall. A fall meant broken bones or death.
At this section of his walk, the cliff top leveled out for some one hundred yards. The path was well marked, moving away from the cliff’s edge and tracing a line between gorse and thrift on one side and a fenced pasture on the other. Exposed here, he bent into the wind, and moved steadily forward. He became aware that his throat was painfully dry, and his head had begun to fill with a dull ache just behind his eyes. He felt a sudden bout of dizziness as he reached the far end of cliff top. Lack of water, he thought. He would not be able to go much farther without doing something about it.
A stile marked the edge of the high pasture he’d been following, and he climbed it and paused, waiting for the landscape to stop swimming in front of him long enough for him to find the descent to what would be yet another cove. He’d lost count of the inlets he’d come upon in his walk along the undulating coast. He had no idea what this one was called, any more than he’d been able to name the others.
When the vertigo had passed, he saw that a lone cottage stood at the edge of a wide meadow beneath him, perhaps two hundred yards inland from the beach and along the side of a twisting brook. A cottage meant potable water, so he would make for that. It wasn’t a great distance off the path.
He stepped down from the stile just as the first drops of rain fell. He wasn’t wearing his hat at the moment, so he shrugged his rucksack from his shoulders and dug it out. He was pulling it low onto his forehead—an old baseball cap of his brother’s with “Mariners” scrolled across it—when he caught sight of a flash of red. He looked in the direction from which it had seemed to come, and he found it at the base of the cliff that formed the far side of the inlet beneath him. There, a sprawl of red lay across a broad plate of slate. This slate was itself the landward end of a reef, which crept from the cliff bottom out into the sea.
He studied the red sprawl. At this distance it could have been anything from rubbish to laundry, but he knew instinctively that it was not. For although all of it was crumpled, part of it seemed to form an arm, and this arm extended outward onto the slate as if supplicating an unseen benefactor who was not nor would ever be there.
He waited a full minute that he counted off in individual seconds. He waited uselessly to see if the form would move. When it did not, he began his descent.
Excerp from Elizabeth George Online
It's still so cold out. I'm soooo over it, come on spring already! Sick of wading in a foot of snow, and even more sick of braving the Arctic wind. Bitter, bitter cold. The only good thing about it is tea. Lots of tea. Even then I'm getting sick of it. Hate getting up late when I don't have to be at work in the morning on account of IT'S TOO COLD OUTSIDE THE BLANKETS. Somehow I think yoga is easier to do when it's not like 10 below outside. The flat gets soooo cold even when the heater is going, how I miss the old flat in Milwaukee! It gets so warm there that we have the windows cracked a half inch even in the middle of the coldest winter! A few times this winter I've felt like my toes were gonna fall off...and I had like 2 pairs of socks on. Gaaaahh, I detest winter.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Yay! Elizabeth George will be in town in the spring to promote the latest Inspector Lynley book. I can hardly wait for the next book to come out, last time we saw DI Tommy Lynley and DS Barbara Havers, Lynley's wife was brutally gunned down right outside her doorstep, heavily pregnant. (I actually skipped "What Came Before He Shot Her", and just thumbed through it to prep for Careless In Red). Elizabeth George is a brilliant mystery writer and I cannot wait to see how she deals with the aftermath of Helen Clyde's death and how it affects those around her: Lynley, Havers, Simon Allcourt-St.James and his wife Deborah and the rest of the regular cast of characters.
Elizabeth George appearance:
TUESDAY, MAY 13, 2008 – CHICAGO, IL
BORDERS BOOKS & MUSIC – 12:30 PM
150 N State St.
Chicago, IL 60601
Main Phone: 312.606.0750
Jennifer Garner (in Oscar de la Renta) always looks brilliant, I especially love her hair and make up.
Loooove Anne Hathaway, and the red Marchesa looks stunning on her.
The lovely Hilary Swank looks smashing in Versace.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I was at work yesterday. One of my many duties is to answer the phones before the restaurant opens up. Whatever. Normal day at work. And then this lady phones wanting to order a cake for a work function.
Bitch: I went on your website and I don't think the cake I want is on there.
Me (Already annoyed because I'm trying to par the safe and this is the 5th call in 5 minutes): Can you describe what it looks like?
Bitch: Well, it's chocolate and it's got nuts on it. I was at the Grand Lux (sister restaurant) and they had it.
Me: (Thinking, then go to the Grand Lux and stop wasting my time, woman.): You mean (so-and so) kind of cake?
Bitch: I don't know, it's not on your website, you should look.
Me: Ma'am, I don't go to the website. (On account that I don't care to)
Bitch: Well, you should then, so you can help someone like me.
Me: (Bitch, fuck off and die.) Well, I don't. (Losing temper as well)
Bitch: You don't seem to know very much, let me speak to a manager.
Me: (Puts her on hold although would like to very much hang up on her ass.)
Stupid, stupid bitch. I hope you choke on that cake.
It's Sunday. Okay, so I was bored. Digging around in the ol' closet I found a vest I have never worn, maybe because it needs a bit of adjustment (I can never find a vest that fits me properly, I hate it) and thought I'd try it on . Three different looks I came up with in 20 minutes:
Velvet Gap blazer, white shirt from forever ago, said vest, Lucky Jeans, legwarmers from Dancewear Solutions catalogue, men's fingerless gloves from H&M, heels I never wear bought from somewhere, most likely Payless. Oh and the hat..my fav winter accessory. It's like wearing a beaver on your head.
Vest, top from Forever 21 which I like because it's got a high collar..(tie a bow around it and pin on a cameo...wonderful...), pants I got at Loehmanns' (bastards still owe me $115.00 from an overcharge, but I'm having my bank take care of it.. from now on I will only pay cash when I shop there..), same heels.
Not-so-ratty tee I wear to death, white shirt, same vest, H&M jeans, fingerless gloves, some polka-dot sash thing turned tie. Same heels.
I was sucking my thumb in the last picture because I snagged it on a pin and I didn't want to bleed to death hahaha...
Next time I shall have a light source and use a flash...
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
It started with a family of ducks bought from a Chinatown store in San Francisco...
The fluffy one was found in someone's Easter basket.
We looove Lacoste colognes and perfumes. And Burt's Bees Lipbalm.
Hahhah that sink needs a-cleanin'.
I call the one on the left Neurotic Duck.
More colognes and hair pomades.
This doesn't have anything to do with rubber ducks, but it's cute all the same...found this miniature outhouse on one of our thrift store jaunts, for like a dollar. Now if I can just find a miniature person to put in it....
Couldn't sleep a wink last night. Did the usual routine, tossed and turned for like 3 hours after going to bed, and finally got up after jay got up. He couldn't sleep a wink either. It was 4 am. We're insomniacs. Or (haha) it was probably that mug of extra strong tea with milk and 4 sugars and the half glass of Sunkist orange soda right before bed.
Jay was working on some drawing ideas for a show in March when I walked into the living room. Told him I wanted to photograph my bags.
"What, right now?"
"I've a tripod you can use."
So, boys like to fiddle with gadgets and things, and Jay was no exception. So out comes the light source and tripod, and minutes of fiddling with..stuff. God, let me take the pictures already hahaha..
I love bags. So does Jay. I tend to go for practical rather than fashion, and a lot of times I get boring black ones. Here are some examples of the bags I use on a regular basis:
My trusty Dickies bag which I've had for aaages, since 2001. Surprisingly in good condition although there are signs of wear and tear. Generally carried work stuff in it, and shoes.
This one's an oldie too, it's too small for anything other than a wallet, cell phone and the odd lipstick/gloss and compact.
Love, love , love this Kathy Van Zeeland bag. Bit heavy though. Loads of pockets and secret compartments.
This Kangol bag I carry around a lot. It's not too big and not too small. Big enough for a pocketbook, a book, compact, various geegaws. Although I wish it was teeny bit bigger. Slapped on the Elvis patch bought at a gift shop near Graceland last September. The skull pins aren't just for show, they prevent the buckles from slipping.
Jay gave me this Puma bag for my birthday last year. Pretty roomy. Can pass for a laptop bag.
This Matt & Nat bag is brilliant. It's dark brown with light blue detailing. And at a freaking $12.99 from T. J. Maxx....awesome.
This Timbuk2 messenger bag I got from Jay for Christmas last year. I can fit in it, it's big. It'll probably be broken out this summer.
My faaaave bag of all..jay got me this in New York a couple of years ago. Got a lot of compliments on it, including one from a fabulously gay man. You know you've made it when a gay man compliments your style hahahha..jokes. The straps have to be repaired before I use it though, it can't take anything more than a book, wallet, sandals and a beach towel.
This one comes out once in a while, for work usually. Or interviews hahaha.
And last but not least this Swiss Army carry-on. Can you believe it? It's gorgeous! And it's not mine, it's Jay's (yes my hubby is a somewhat fashionable man). I got it for him for Christmas. AND it's a rolling bag as well, it's brilliant.
That's pretty much it. I can't recall how many other ones I've thrown away or given away in the past. But I do resolve to get more color in my collection,because although black goes with everything, it is also quite, quite boring.
*Exit stage left.*
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
I'm sitting in front of the computer and I happen to look outside the window..it's snowing. Heavily. It's been snowing every day for the last...I don't know..week? Not just a smattering here and there, but huge, fluffy snowflakes. They look like pieces of unbuttered popcorn from where I am sitting. In an hour there will be 3 inches of snow on the ground. Overnight, the snow will have turned into either slush, or sheets of ice, depending on the temperature.
I'm wishing that it is spring already. Warmer weather, rain, trees in bloom. Sunshine. That's what I'm craving for right now, sunshine. There is nothing great about winter, nothing. A cold, creaky flat which two different heaters fail to warm up. Snowstorms you have to plow through to get to work. Red frosty noses and figertips and toes, no matter how many layers you put on. Jumping out of the shower before the water runs cold, and shivering as you frantically dry yourself and dress yourself in cold clothes.
That first day when I walk out of the house not resembling the Michelin Man in snowboots, will be a fantastic day. Oh, I don't pretend that the trees will bear leaves overnight and birds will be chirping as I walk down the street, but that feeling that winter is over and summer is just a few months away...nothing beats that. I am not a winter person, never will be. My whole life up to when I was 21 had been spent in the tropics where the sun shone all year round and the most extreme weather we had was the monsoon season when it rained non-stop for two or three months. The worst natural disaster we had was flooding in the coastal areas, and since we lived on a hill, flooding didn't affect us greatly either. Someone said that they wished that they could pick up this city and put it somewhere sunny and warm. I feel the same way. I love Chicago, I just don't like the winters here.
But I suppose at least we don't have the Mistral. Or live where the sun only shines 4 months out of the year. So bring on spring, with it's new growth and changes. I sure as hell am ready for a change.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Get over shyness! Easier said than done? You are not alone... many
people need to get over shyness and need help conquering
Over half of all adults identify themselves as shy. Shyness
can get in the way of developing personal relationships and
professional aspirations. For so many people learning how to
get over shyness is a priority. Why not learn how to get over
What can you do to get over shyness and take charge
of even the most difficult conversations?
Some people are afraid to simply walk into a room and
surround themselves with strangers. Some shy people hate
eating in front of others and some hate parties or other
types of social occasions. Nevertheless you can get over
shyness with the right help.
The fact is that there are many ways to beat shyness if you
have the desire and the willpower. You can improve yourself
and get over shyness even faster than you think.
Shyness is more common than most people realize. Shy people
are not necessarily introverts, some are extroverts who
happen to be shy and also need help to get over shyness.
If shyness is keeping you from advancing in your career or
maintaining personal relationships, there are various ways
to get over shyness and become the outgoing person you would
like to be.
1. Realizing that shyness is a problem for you is the first
step in overcoming it. List your good qualities and enjoy
the fact that you have many good points that can help you
to get over shyness.
Pick one thing you'd like to change about yourself and
focus on that one thing until you succeed in making
Systematically dealing with one issue at a time will help
you become the person you want to be and get over
2. Each day identify one thing you can do to help yourself
to get over shyness. It can be a simple thing like making eye
contact with the clerk at your local grocery store or
striking up a conversation with a stranger on the bus.
You do not have to execute your plan perfectly every day.
Just continue to take baby steps and reward yourself along
the way for each obstacle you overcome.
3. Sometimes its not really shyness that is the problem
when you want to get over shyness.
Occasionally a lack of social skills lead people to believe
they are shy when in reality they just do not have the
tools and knowledge to develop appropriate social behaviors.
If a lack of social skills is keeping your self-esteem low
and making your life miserable, search for one of the many
sources of information that are designed to help you
develop your social skills and get over shyness.
There are many informative publications that deal with
these issues and you may find just the right tips on ways
to get over shyness that will allow you to alleviate your
social discomfort, expand your circle of friends, and
support professional advancement.
4. There are numerous ways to get over shyness and not every
suggestion or idea will work for everyone. Find the tools
that are the most helpful to you personally and use these
tools to the best of your ability.
If you want to get over shyness, it will not happen instantly
or overnight. It takes perseverance and a desire to succeed
if you truly want to overcome shyness and learn to interact
easily and naturally with other people.
Shyness often causes a person to withdraw from society
altogether. Do not let shyness rule your life. Start slowly
and make small changes each step of the way.
You will be able to see your progress with each negative
personality trait you change into a positive one. Soon
enough all the effort you put into changing your life will
become evident to not only you, but to all those around you.
I've decided to set my blogs Seven Seconds and Love and Weapons to private. Seven Seconds because I've yet to decide on how to end the story (it's taking me aaages) and Love and Weapons because it's a private journal. Can't have people reading my innermost thoughts, you know, at least until I'm ready to unleash it haha. I think Love And Weapons is a pretty good choice as far as a journal's named ("Love and Weapons kill much the same way", goes the saying)..pretty good indication of what's being written there.. oh well. It's just a journal. Nothing to freak about.
Rants by Bex at 6:54 PM