I've already been on Facebook for several years, having been in college when it first came out. As we all know, the college crowd, tends to be most enamored of it. It's useful, helps me keep in touch with pseudo-friends and real friends, and helps me stalk my ultra fake friends who I never actually talked to after college, but know almost everything about them via Facebook, including where they live, their phone number, their career, their relationship, how they are feeling at the moment. Creepy. But hey, we all do it.
Bwoy recently joined Facebook despite his years-long resistance. I was so proud of him and eagerly clicked on his profile to see what personal info he decided to post. To my horror, I discovered he wrote NOTHING about our relationship! I, on the other hand, had written I was "in a relationship" for many years. I was mortified and confronted him directly about it (through the phone though, not Facebook). His excuse was 1/4 fishy, 1/4 lazy, and 1/2 legitimate: "I don't want anyone knowing the details of my life!" Pishaw. What an obvious Facebook newbie. So I decided to break up with him, Facebook-wise that is. I deleted "in a relationship" and replaced it furiously with "single;" my Facebook contacts were notified of this immediately in their newsfeeds.
Within 24 hours, I recieved several messages from concerned psuedo-friends, real friends who obviously have no clue who I am, and random pple who I haven't spoken to in years (Usually beginning with, "Hey NP! Just thinking about you... etc etc... when are you in town next?") The last bit cracked me up. I even learned from several people that I was the object of conversation when people speculated that I had broken up with Bwoy.
In the end, I had to explain the situation gently to my psuedo-friends, and I had to yell at my real friends for assuming I would actually tell Facebook I broke up before I told them. Interesting social experiment. The site really is a gossip, stalking, networking vine all in one. Ah, the power of Facebook.
Tuesday
Sunday
Hipsters
Hipster (abbreviated version from UrbanDictionary.com)
Listens to bands that you have never heard of. Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.) Probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any. Has friends and/or self cut hair. Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds). Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt). Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops. Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Kamel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine. Claims to be in a band. Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR. Always on the list. Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies. Name-drops. May go by "Penny Lane," "Eleanor Rigby," etc. when drunk.
****
I just spent a weekend with pple who would generally fit the above description. I was quite perturbed and fascinated at the difference in the type of discipline, areas of interest, and ambition that I am used to. I don't even know how I ended up in Chicago's hipster centrale, Wicker Park, since I was meeting up with some long lost high school friends who turned from righteous nerds to too cool hipsters over the past 7 years since I've seen them.
Well, Wicker Park was now their home and they were bonafide hipsters. We ended up drinking and toasting to jobs such as copy editors for indie magazines, bartending, being salesmen at the "right" hipster clothing stores, abstract documetary making on public channels, T-shirt printing (and selling out of trucks), and some more bartending.
I ended up being ashamed I was a a PhD student and started to mumble my replies to the rare question of, "What do you do?" When any of the hipsters actually understood my reply, I'd be greeted with a look that mixed incredulity, disgust, admiration, and pity. It was a weird struggle, usually with the disgust and pity winning out. That's an important lesson I learned. Unlike the usual high-end parties where pple subtly (or not so subtly) brag about graduating from a top 15 school, and now being in law school, med school, grad school, or whatever, very rarely did people greet you with "What do you do?" or "Where do you work?" or "Where did you go?" Instead, the education and career was bypassed entirely. Interesting. To be honest, I did have a queer sense of abandon of not having to have that same stupid conversation about my educational credentials to a bunch of dressed-up meat-marker folks (usually at an apartment with a cityscape view with the parents having bought them their lovely condo) over and over again. But then again, I didn't feel like I had much to say otherwise. Makes me sound a bit pathetic, huh?
Of course, once I started probing into how much a person could make printing T-shirts with slogans like "Too cool for school," I had rather red-faced admissions of Mummy and Daddy having bought the fabulous condo where the party was being held. I also had admissions of said T-shirts not ACTUALLY having being printed-- the work now was in getting the idea and concept down. This, I was told emphatically, takes quite a bit of time. Again, interesting. The difference between people, whether high rolling lawyers, or too cool hipsters, may not be as large as I thought.
Much reefer was smoked this wknds, many beers consumed, many indie records played (the more obscure the band, the better. I had one person tell me with pride that the music the DJ was playing hadn't even been signed to a label yet, it was THAT underground). And of course, I saw the exact same shaggy haircut on every hipster woman at the parties. As well as the exact same style of shabilicious dresses, i.e., dresses meant to look shabby but oh-so-hot-now. Some were shabby by choice (i.e. shredding old dresses to fit the new fashion), and some were tailormade shabby (i.e. picture the $199 pricetag of a gray jumper that looks like you wore it for about 15 years).
So all in all, an interesting weekend.
Listens to bands that you have never heard of. Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.) Probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any. Has friends and/or self cut hair. Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds). Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt). Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops. Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Kamel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine. Claims to be in a band. Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR. Always on the list. Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies. Name-drops. May go by "Penny Lane," "Eleanor Rigby," etc. when drunk.
****
I just spent a weekend with pple who would generally fit the above description. I was quite perturbed and fascinated at the difference in the type of discipline, areas of interest, and ambition that I am used to. I don't even know how I ended up in Chicago's hipster centrale, Wicker Park, since I was meeting up with some long lost high school friends who turned from righteous nerds to too cool hipsters over the past 7 years since I've seen them.
Well, Wicker Park was now their home and they were bonafide hipsters. We ended up drinking and toasting to jobs such as copy editors for indie magazines, bartending, being salesmen at the "right" hipster clothing stores, abstract documetary making on public channels, T-shirt printing (and selling out of trucks), and some more bartending.
I ended up being ashamed I was a a PhD student and started to mumble my replies to the rare question of, "What do you do?" When any of the hipsters actually understood my reply, I'd be greeted with a look that mixed incredulity, disgust, admiration, and pity. It was a weird struggle, usually with the disgust and pity winning out. That's an important lesson I learned. Unlike the usual high-end parties where pple subtly (or not so subtly) brag about graduating from a top 15 school, and now being in law school, med school, grad school, or whatever, very rarely did people greet you with "What do you do?" or "Where do you work?" or "Where did you go?" Instead, the education and career was bypassed entirely. Interesting. To be honest, I did have a queer sense of abandon of not having to have that same stupid conversation about my educational credentials to a bunch of dressed-up meat-marker folks (usually at an apartment with a cityscape view with the parents having bought them their lovely condo) over and over again. But then again, I didn't feel like I had much to say otherwise. Makes me sound a bit pathetic, huh?
Of course, once I started probing into how much a person could make printing T-shirts with slogans like "Too cool for school," I had rather red-faced admissions of Mummy and Daddy having bought the fabulous condo where the party was being held. I also had admissions of said T-shirts not ACTUALLY having being printed-- the work now was in getting the idea and concept down. This, I was told emphatically, takes quite a bit of time. Again, interesting. The difference between people, whether high rolling lawyers, or too cool hipsters, may not be as large as I thought.
Much reefer was smoked this wknds, many beers consumed, many indie records played (the more obscure the band, the better. I had one person tell me with pride that the music the DJ was playing hadn't even been signed to a label yet, it was THAT underground). And of course, I saw the exact same shaggy haircut on every hipster woman at the parties. As well as the exact same style of shabilicious dresses, i.e., dresses meant to look shabby but oh-so-hot-now. Some were shabby by choice (i.e. shredding old dresses to fit the new fashion), and some were tailormade shabby (i.e. picture the $199 pricetag of a gray jumper that looks like you wore it for about 15 years).
So all in all, an interesting weekend.
Wednesday
103107
TIME: 8:44 PM
Location: In the office!!!
Mood: Procrastination mixed with desperation, i.e., "Oh shit, why the f*ck am I blogging when I should be typing my report frantically."
Wearing: Fitted brown shirt, dark blue jeans, sneakers, blue and gold earrings.
Meals: Oatmeal for breakfast, rice and beans and cheese for lunch, cookies and chips for dinner.
Thinking: Of my big project due Friday
Will: - Go home in 3 hours and mope about the project.
Wishing: I had done a number of things... Return L's (my bff) call, call Hippiegirl (my bff in high school) to wish her a happy bday, get a haircut, pay bills, run once in the past 3 weeks(!) Wishing that this report that I've been working on the past 3 wks turns out okay. Also wishing after it's done that I run 5 miles and get back into it.
Highlight of my day so far: Lunch. I love Mexican food.
Location: In the office!!!
Mood: Procrastination mixed with desperation, i.e., "Oh shit, why the f*ck am I blogging when I should be typing my report frantically."
Wearing: Fitted brown shirt, dark blue jeans, sneakers, blue and gold earrings.
Meals: Oatmeal for breakfast, rice and beans and cheese for lunch, cookies and chips for dinner.
Thinking: Of my big project due Friday
Will: - Go home in 3 hours and mope about the project.
Wishing: I had done a number of things... Return L's (my bff) call, call Hippiegirl (my bff in high school) to wish her a happy bday, get a haircut, pay bills, run once in the past 3 weeks(!) Wishing that this report that I've been working on the past 3 wks turns out okay. Also wishing after it's done that I run 5 miles and get back into it.
Highlight of my day so far: Lunch. I love Mexican food.
Sunday
LDR
What I miss most about a non-LDR relationship is the triviality/commonness of things.
- calling up Bwoy on a bad night and making him go to a movie with me.
- showing up at his apt when I know he's had a rough day (though I did do that once earlier this year... flew into NY one random wknd to surprise him).
- watching TV curled up in bed with him.
- trying different cheapo restaurants and wandering the city.
- being nerds and doing work side by side, on our separate computers.
- silences in each other's presence.
- no pressure to make a 4-day visit as memorable as possible.
Bwoy visited me this weekend, and we actually did do a LOT of the trivial things on the list. We didn't go off trekking mountains, or go to elaborate dressed up affairs, or stare in each other's eyes (okay maybe a little). We were just homebodies who went out a bit, but liked snuggling into soft blankets and flipping through channels. And that's what made me realize how much I miss being boring with him =)
- calling up Bwoy on a bad night and making him go to a movie with me.
- showing up at his apt when I know he's had a rough day (though I did do that once earlier this year... flew into NY one random wknd to surprise him).
- watching TV curled up in bed with him.
- trying different cheapo restaurants and wandering the city.
- being nerds and doing work side by side, on our separate computers.
- silences in each other's presence.
- no pressure to make a 4-day visit as memorable as possible.
Bwoy visited me this weekend, and we actually did do a LOT of the trivial things on the list. We didn't go off trekking mountains, or go to elaborate dressed up affairs, or stare in each other's eyes (okay maybe a little). We were just homebodies who went out a bit, but liked snuggling into soft blankets and flipping through channels. And that's what made me realize how much I miss being boring with him =)
Things to do if I pass the big exams...
1. Go to a swanky overpriced hair salon and get a badly needed haircut. Feel important for a couple of hours.
2. Go buy hot boots.
3. Buy winter workout clothes.
4. Buy cute winter coat?
5. Sweaters!
Hmmm. This sounds very consumerist. How about...
6. Come out of semi-exile and start doing cultural things around Chi-town, i.e. free events, deep and depressing indie flicks.
7. Think about taking yoga.
8. Be nicer to L (my bff), Bwoy, parents. IDD
9. Re-start running (on hiatus for 3 weeks=( Make a schedule.
10. Make a schedule of what I need accpmlished for the next 3 months.
11. 6 hours of sleep weekdays, sleep in weekends.
Hmmm. this is not starting to sound leisurely anymore.
2. Go buy hot boots.
3. Buy winter workout clothes.
4. Buy cute winter coat?
5. Sweaters!
Hmmm. This sounds very consumerist. How about...
6. Come out of semi-exile and start doing cultural things around Chi-town, i.e. free events, deep and depressing indie flicks.
7. Think about taking yoga.
8. Be nicer to L (my bff), Bwoy, parents. IDD
9. Re-start running (on hiatus for 3 weeks=( Make a schedule.
10. Make a schedule of what I need accpmlished for the next 3 months.
11. 6 hours of sleep weekdays, sleep in weekends.
Hmmm. this is not starting to sound leisurely anymore.
Friday
Emotions are so overrated
So the other day I had a wierd meltdown. On my bday. Let's just say I ended up getting a bit drunk, and then had a wierd text-fight with Bwoy. Which means that I would text him angrily "Whty have you nto callerd?" and then wait five minutes for his phone call, hear it, ignore, it, and write another message like, "I'm mad amd drnk. You suck."
Finally, I suppose, he got the idea and also resorted to texting me as opposed to calling me. Mostly his messages were, "Huh? What is wrong? NP, pick up your damn phone." And then I would text him back, "No."
Because, you see, I wanted to have a TEXT FIGHT with him, not a PHONE FIGHT. Duh.
This went on for about half an hour. FInally in the end, I was so tipsy, I just passed out in my bed, rolled up in my comforter with sticky hair and bar-smelling clothes, my fingers poised above my half written text message, something to the effect of "I htate you, you should have" When I woke up the next morning, I had 5 missed calls, and a text message that said, "Good Lord. Where the hell are you, woman."
I know. I'm nuts.
*********
Last night, I had a nice talk with Bwoy last night. My immaturity hurt him and I am very sorry for that. Talking to him, as usual, helped. Mostly because we both have analytical minds. I like that about him—he’s not afraid to tell me what’s on his mind, and he usually tells me when I’m doing something wrong. I like that about me too—that I can take it in, absorb, analyze, and assess. I wasn’t always like that. I used to take critisicm really badly, mostly because I had low confidence and hearing outside criticism just compounded that. Now though, I am pretty okay with myself, and really interested in self-improvement.
So now realize that my minibreakdown on my bday was a combination of things. Some of it was family drama, some of it was frustration with work, some of it was stress with my living situation, some of it was stress from a big proposal I had due two days earlier, some of it was the alcohol, and some of it was just pure missing my closest friends. It’s ironic that my bday this year was the lonliest day of the year for me. Maybe because it was then I realized that the pple I really wanted to celebrate it with were far away, across the country. As I grow older, the less I care about having a big bash; I’d rather celebrate it with my good friends, people who I know are glad I was born, and know that I feel the same about them. I’ve become such a curmudgeon with my time.
Finally, I suppose, he got the idea and also resorted to texting me as opposed to calling me. Mostly his messages were, "Huh? What is wrong? NP, pick up your damn phone." And then I would text him back, "No."
Because, you see, I wanted to have a TEXT FIGHT with him, not a PHONE FIGHT. Duh.
This went on for about half an hour. FInally in the end, I was so tipsy, I just passed out in my bed, rolled up in my comforter with sticky hair and bar-smelling clothes, my fingers poised above my half written text message, something to the effect of "I htate you, you should have" When I woke up the next morning, I had 5 missed calls, and a text message that said, "Good Lord. Where the hell are you, woman."
I know. I'm nuts.
*********
Last night, I had a nice talk with Bwoy last night. My immaturity hurt him and I am very sorry for that. Talking to him, as usual, helped. Mostly because we both have analytical minds. I like that about him—he’s not afraid to tell me what’s on his mind, and he usually tells me when I’m doing something wrong. I like that about me too—that I can take it in, absorb, analyze, and assess. I wasn’t always like that. I used to take critisicm really badly, mostly because I had low confidence and hearing outside criticism just compounded that. Now though, I am pretty okay with myself, and really interested in self-improvement.
So now realize that my minibreakdown on my bday was a combination of things. Some of it was family drama, some of it was frustration with work, some of it was stress with my living situation, some of it was stress from a big proposal I had due two days earlier, some of it was the alcohol, and some of it was just pure missing my closest friends. It’s ironic that my bday this year was the lonliest day of the year for me. Maybe because it was then I realized that the pple I really wanted to celebrate it with were far away, across the country. As I grow older, the less I care about having a big bash; I’d rather celebrate it with my good friends, people who I know are glad I was born, and know that I feel the same about them. I’ve become such a curmudgeon with my time.
Wednesday
B
I need a vacation. This week has been blech with a capital B. Also interpreting as busted, bummer, busy..
The busy part is over: I had an exam that was due at midnight and- lazy bum that I am- I emailed it to the profs at 11:59 pm . That didn't bother me though. What bothered me my crazy ass friend telling me almost every day last week we should go out for drinks to celebrate, and me making reservations, and looking fwd to the fancy place, and ON THE DAY OF THE EXAM she forgets, and when I ask her if she wants to go to dinner, she whines and says she has too much work.
Good lord, the nerve. This is after I spent HOURS and HOURS listening to her freak out about her abnormal-to-begin-with relationships with people. I mean, can I get some love back here? Seriously. She once spent 45 minutes bitching about the dental assistant's attempts to make conversation with her. I had to pretend like the dental assistant was off her rocker, when, in truth, my friend is as crazy and awkward as they come.
And then the other day, I sat mortified and pinned to the couch in her apartment as I heard her sobbing in the next room. I had to sneak out of her apt after listening to half an hour of sobs... of course, we never discussed the fact that I left, leaving my half-eaten meal on her table, which makes everything even more awkward. We never even discussed what caused this to happen, her leaving me on the couch abruptly, going to her room, closing the door, and wailing for half an hour. Later, I found out the culprit- she had decided to overnalayze and freak out over a 5-line email she sent to her prof. Oy.
Sigh. This has pretty much solidified my decision to live by myself next year. So at least I can decompress from all the wacky pple in my life.
Times likes these I miss Bwoy. Is this what post-college life is supposed to be like? I don't think so. I think this is what grad school is. I mean, I lived and worked in NY after college and that was quite normal. now that I've moved, well... let's just say I've never met as many crazies in NY as I have in graduate school.
This is why I need a vacation. I need some sanity.
The busy part is over: I had an exam that was due at midnight and- lazy bum that I am- I emailed it to the profs at 11:59 pm . That didn't bother me though. What bothered me my crazy ass friend telling me almost every day last week we should go out for drinks to celebrate, and me making reservations, and looking fwd to the fancy place, and ON THE DAY OF THE EXAM she forgets, and when I ask her if she wants to go to dinner, she whines and says she has too much work.
Good lord, the nerve. This is after I spent HOURS and HOURS listening to her freak out about her abnormal-to-begin-with relationships with people. I mean, can I get some love back here? Seriously. She once spent 45 minutes bitching about the dental assistant's attempts to make conversation with her. I had to pretend like the dental assistant was off her rocker, when, in truth, my friend is as crazy and awkward as they come.
And then the other day, I sat mortified and pinned to the couch in her apartment as I heard her sobbing in the next room. I had to sneak out of her apt after listening to half an hour of sobs... of course, we never discussed the fact that I left, leaving my half-eaten meal on her table, which makes everything even more awkward. We never even discussed what caused this to happen, her leaving me on the couch abruptly, going to her room, closing the door, and wailing for half an hour. Later, I found out the culprit- she had decided to overnalayze and freak out over a 5-line email she sent to her prof. Oy.
Sigh. This has pretty much solidified my decision to live by myself next year. So at least I can decompress from all the wacky pple in my life.
Times likes these I miss Bwoy. Is this what post-college life is supposed to be like? I don't think so. I think this is what grad school is. I mean, I lived and worked in NY after college and that was quite normal. now that I've moved, well... let's just say I've never met as many crazies in NY as I have in graduate school.
This is why I need a vacation. I need some sanity.
Friday
Bend, Snap, Splinter.
Last night a friend of mine called me to tell me she cheated on her boyfriend (who she had been dating for 3 years). With a married guy. I didn't even know what to say. I've had plenty of friends who have cheated, which is fine. But her??
Let's call her Ruler, since that is what she functioned as for much of my life. She was my compass of morality, my cornerstone of justice, my... oh, I don't know. Let's just say that this was a woman who would wrinkle her nose when I told her how I gave my number to a college dude when I was pretty inebriated with some friends at a bar (he texted me the same night and I showed the text to Bwoy. We had a good laugh). This was a woman who scolded me when I told her I hung out with my ex-boyfriend, and *gasp* danced with him slightly innapropriately and drunkenly when I was tipsy.
I told her of my "escapades" last night, exaggerating them, in a lame attempt to make her feel better-- i.e., wave my arms and say, "Hey! We ALL get pretty stupid when we're drunk!" Of course in my head, I added, "The difference is I have never crossed the line to making out with someone (knock on wood)." Apparently, though, she did. And apparently, that fact didn't prevent her from scolding ME during the same conversation.
I feel bad for her. I really do. Given that Ruler is so ruler-like, I can only imagine how much this must tear at her. I did my best and gave her meaniingless advice, like "Give it a few days," and "We all make mistakes... you just, er, made a bad one." I swear, sometimes my brain just turns into a ball of mush. But really, she did just make a mistake, and her mistake made me really think of how very thin the line is between flirting and cheating, and how every one of us has the potential to stupidly cross it. Tempt fate all you want, as long as you don't get into bed with it at the end, is my motto. It takes a lot of control. I just never thought that Ruler would bend, snap, and splinter.
So that's that. Now the question is whether Ruler is going to tell her boyfriend. Amid all my dumb remarks to her, I hinted that maybe she doesn't need to give him that pain. Of course, she got all huffy that I would try to dissuade her from "doing the right thing." Um, is this really the right time for HER to be scolding ME about doing the right thing? We'll see what happens... I don't think she should tell him the entire story, but she seems hellbent on that way. Hmmm.
Let's call her Ruler, since that is what she functioned as for much of my life. She was my compass of morality, my cornerstone of justice, my... oh, I don't know. Let's just say that this was a woman who would wrinkle her nose when I told her how I gave my number to a college dude when I was pretty inebriated with some friends at a bar (he texted me the same night and I showed the text to Bwoy. We had a good laugh). This was a woman who scolded me when I told her I hung out with my ex-boyfriend, and *gasp* danced with him slightly innapropriately and drunkenly when I was tipsy.
I told her of my "escapades" last night, exaggerating them, in a lame attempt to make her feel better-- i.e., wave my arms and say, "Hey! We ALL get pretty stupid when we're drunk!" Of course in my head, I added, "The difference is I have never crossed the line to making out with someone (knock on wood)." Apparently, though, she did. And apparently, that fact didn't prevent her from scolding ME during the same conversation.
I feel bad for her. I really do. Given that Ruler is so ruler-like, I can only imagine how much this must tear at her. I did my best and gave her meaniingless advice, like "Give it a few days," and "We all make mistakes... you just, er, made a bad one." I swear, sometimes my brain just turns into a ball of mush. But really, she did just make a mistake, and her mistake made me really think of how very thin the line is between flirting and cheating, and how every one of us has the potential to stupidly cross it. Tempt fate all you want, as long as you don't get into bed with it at the end, is my motto. It takes a lot of control. I just never thought that Ruler would bend, snap, and splinter.
So that's that. Now the question is whether Ruler is going to tell her boyfriend. Amid all my dumb remarks to her, I hinted that maybe she doesn't need to give him that pain. Of course, she got all huffy that I would try to dissuade her from "doing the right thing." Um, is this really the right time for HER to be scolding ME about doing the right thing? We'll see what happens... I don't think she should tell him the entire story, but she seems hellbent on that way. Hmmm.
092107
TIME: 6:12 PM
Mood: Lazy
Wearing: White peasant shirt, dark blue jeans, red platforms, turquoise dangly earrings.
Meals: Oatmeal for breakfast, meal bar for lunch, cookies and pocky sticks for snack.
Thinking: Of my pre-qualifying exam.
Will: - Go home in an hour and pick up Indian food (Malai Kofta and Naan)! Read papers. Maybe- if I am good- go to Borders and buy the Reluctant Fundamentalist.
Wishing: Bwoy was here to eat with me.
Hoping: I get up early enough tomorrow to run 4 miles.
Highlight of my day so far: Looking at myself in the mirror- pretty.
Smelling like: Listerine.
Mood: Lazy
Wearing: White peasant shirt, dark blue jeans, red platforms, turquoise dangly earrings.
Meals: Oatmeal for breakfast, meal bar for lunch, cookies and pocky sticks for snack.
Thinking: Of my pre-qualifying exam.
Will: - Go home in an hour and pick up Indian food (Malai Kofta and Naan)! Read papers. Maybe- if I am good- go to Borders and buy the Reluctant Fundamentalist.
Wishing: Bwoy was here to eat with me.
Hoping: I get up early enough tomorrow to run 4 miles.
Highlight of my day so far: Looking at myself in the mirror- pretty.
Smelling like: Listerine.
Tuesday
091807
TIME: 2:04 PM
Mood: Jittery (See Thinking)
Wearing: Stretch blue shirt, blue jeans, red zipper sweater, sneakers, long dangling earrings.
Meals: Oatmeal for breakfast, veggie sandwich and apple for lunch, some shortbread cookies and chocolate chip cookie for snack.
Thinking: Of my pre-qualifying exam. Yikes!
Will: - Run 4 miles or so at 6 pm. - Complete 2 more things on my to-do list (3/13 done so far)
Wishing: I was still in bed.
Hoping: This week is better than last week.
Highlight of my day so far: Eating the chocolate chip cookie.
Smelling: Like Men's deoderant.
Mood: Jittery (See Thinking)
Wearing: Stretch blue shirt, blue jeans, red zipper sweater, sneakers, long dangling earrings.
Meals: Oatmeal for breakfast, veggie sandwich and apple for lunch, some shortbread cookies and chocolate chip cookie for snack.
Thinking: Of my pre-qualifying exam. Yikes!
Will: - Run 4 miles or so at 6 pm. - Complete 2 more things on my to-do list (3/13 done so far)
Wishing: I was still in bed.
Hoping: This week is better than last week.
Highlight of my day so far: Eating the chocolate chip cookie.
Smelling: Like Men's deoderant.
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