is it monday yet?

no. it's saturday night. there's a crackhouse theme party on washington. and i am writing a paper.

self image

for the most part, my looks don't change. my weight varies by 3 pounds at the most. sometimes i get zits. sometimes my hair is greasy. sometimes i wear tight jeans. but the "pretty" days don't really coincide to when i feel best about myself. why is it that my value of my appearance changes so violently? i'll look in the mirror and think, goddamn; two days later, i want to see some one completely different. nor do these changes go along with my mood. today, i called all the people i promised i would (my grandparents, my mom, jess), and don't have a lot of work, but for some reason, i got so freaked out about myself that i went to the gym. the gym. me. at the gym. last week, i have never looked so good in an oversized sweatshirt with my hair pulled back. most annoyingly, why is it that sometimes eating a cookie makes it all better and sometimes makes it all worse?

one of the guys

all my friends here are guys. that's not exactly true. i have tons of girls. there are girls i love to chat with, eat with, get dressed with. but when it comes to my days, the people i hang around with, without alchohol, without a party, they're guys. saturday morning my phone rang at 2 (pm). berke stormed into my room to lift me out of bed. we're all going off campus, he said. food and a block party. i thought about how this is the first "we" i've been a part of. i knew who was included: berke, over 6 ft, ska kid from scarsdale who thinks too much and tells me everything, fritz, hippie sandiegon with a 4 inch halo of curly hair, matt, engineer computer nerd from chicago, who smoked for the first time with me on Friday, and lil' ol' me. they're the closest thing i have to a crew. we started because matt and i always get hungry at the same times, and berke goes where i go and fritz goes where matt goes. i we're on our way to the loop, and we pass a few girls i know. i wave hello, they do the same. when they've passed, fritz goes "damn, who are they?" berke, "can i get an introduction?" i laughed and knew i had crossed over. i'm not one of the guys, but i'm close enough. is it just that i relate better to guys? is it even easier when you're already in a relationship? at lunch i said we should all go to a strip club sometime. i really wasn't kidding, but i'm not sure they believed me. "what a woman" they said.

psychobabble

i prayed heaven today / would bring its hammer down on me / and pound you out of my head / i can't think with you in it...

though i'm passed one hundred thousand miles, i'm feeling very still. snap out of it. they say everything can be replaced my fucking left foot. you're not making any sense. why is it every time i stop to think i feel wrong? man up, there's some one knocking and you're life is waiting. plus, you love this kid. every fool knows a dog needs a home. tonight was amazing. you were out. you were busy. you must have yelled "i love college" 12 times. how do you know i won't fail?

...something always takes the place of / missing pieces you can take / and put together even / though there's something missing.

a pledge

no one that reads this wants to hear about all the new people i'm meeting. i get it. i remember i stopped reading jaya's blog because i didn't care to hear about it. (no offense meant, babe.) this took me a while to understand. i guess i figured if i heard about my friends' new lives i would be a part of them still and vice versa. i'm no good at letting go. i'm sorry. anyway, the point of this post is this: i pledge to make this blog for you, the people who know the address now. maybe i'm stupid, but you are my home as much as wash u will ever be. i had two homes in high school; these are just further apart.

on my own

i've spent a lot of time with me these last weeks and a lot of time in union square. reading, tanning, dreaming, killing time. i suppose i'm not bad company. i figure i won't get much time just for me at college. but let's face it, if it were up to me, i would always have people around. that's not to say that i don't relish the occasional naked romp through my apartment when by some miracle it's empty. or making dinner for just me. but i can't be by myself without some sort of distraction: a book, an ipod, the green scarf i'm knitting, food. is that really being alone? i figured out why i smoke cigarettes by myself, too. they're just another prop to keep me busy. (which, i've found, means that they can be replaced by any other kind of distraction and thus become needless.) is it the new yorker in me that wants to be doing something at every moment, or just fixations? if i was at union square just sitting, would that be a distraction? i've tried that waiting for people there. i always resort to pacing. i'm debating the worth of challenging myself to an hour. i know i'm free tomorrow...

groupie or yoko?

i chose yoko. you?

thoughts along park avenue

14th to 29th: not-consented wake-up groggy. wheatgrass lingering. jessie buzzing in my ear. girls never fail to gossip.
29th to 14th: dreaming of the sexy-frenchness i will aquire from my new job. damning my uniform for the other.
14th to 26th: clueless-style match-machine for my new top. kicks cost $4.
26th to 21st: strutting in an apron-hat set is easier than i thought.
21st to 26th: can't crack my ankles, but have desperate need. massaging my right shoulder. leaning on friends (thanks, guys). loathing salads and dishes.
26th to 14th: wrath. comfort of the one who listens.
14th to 26th: walking bigger with a new number in my phonebook and a new story to tell.