Views of the city

I stood on the sixth floor and took advantage of the pseudo-panoramic view of the West Valley
I looked at the cars on the street below, zooming north and south, east and west
and wondered where the very cute cream-colored black-topped Mini Cooper could be headed at 3:42 in the afternoon
Why the hell am I so zapped of energy?,
I wondered while staring at my curls in the window's reflection
Mein eyes made their way down towards my shiny pumps... then up, then down
and for a moment the rare but elusive thought flashed through my mind:
'Perhaps my figure's not so bad'
I gazed to the left at the moutains towards Malibu;
gazed to the right, hmm, San Gabriel
The Hollywood Hills were somewhere southeast
but they were blocked by plaster and florescent lighting
The sun penetrated the weather-proof glass and ran its heated tongue across my forehead as the soda machine hummed an incompetent composition
Turning on my heel I noticed discarded pages of the Daily News, numbering the thousands having recently made the line to the unemployment office wrap-around the building...
...like a good girl, I headed to my desk

Run[ny-nose ]down

It's the weirdest thing having such a stuffed-up nose that I can't taste at all the vodka in my Skinny Bitch.

It's been a good day. Not only do I finally own a Coach purse (with plum lining), but I also had the honor of being complimented so sweetly by one Ms. Arden Kaywin.

Happy 31st, Mom and Pop.

Twelve days left

You read correctly; twelve more days until I'm on a plane heading out to New York for a week and a half - so so excited. I supposed that my very less-than-thrilled mood has been a gift bestowed upon me by the universe, because I tend to look forward to things so much that once in the moment I tend to not find it at all as interesting as I'd imagined or experienced it to be before. Not just that, but the little day-to-day things that used to take the edge off do maybe a quarter of what they used to do, if that. I really feel that the hugest portion of my life has reduced my role to Glorified Distant Relative - except that I don't have money to remedy the situation, and I don't have time to care (in the corporate sense). "Take care of it your own damned self" is what is perched on my lips at all times, but at the penalty of a sans-severance scenario I wear my employee badge with only mild abhorrence. So to be soon allowed a week-and-a-half without time cards and Monday-thru-Friday frivolity is all I could ever want, at least before Christmas (when at that time I'll be wanting a day trip to the snow, and an external hard drive). The one thing I will look forward to while out in New York will be the spending of hours upon hours in museums, and dinner dates with my brother. Everything other than that will just be a bonus.

In other news, I'm pretty certain that my motherboard is shot. Perfect.

Unfabulous

I have been feeling all shades of off lately. Tired and lacking enthusiasm, mostly. Losing steam. It's been a rather off year. Far from fabulous.

There have been some wonderful moments, of course - but with the switch of the seasons, routine, reflection, and all suchness, things tend to become. . . bland and dull, and uneventful, and aggravating on all sorts of levels. Stagnant. Comparatively humdrum.

It doesn't feel like it's Halloween - but damned I'd be if it stopped me from having a good time. It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Even keel

I don't want to jinx myself, but I haven't been feeling as crappy as I had been earlier this year. I think it has to do with acceptance that things are never going to be perfect, and that I'm not always going to be happy. Like any other emotion, you can't always be mad, nor can you always be sad. If you're happy all the time, then you're lying to yourself. It's not possible if you're over the age of five.

I've decided to settle on contentment. Feeling okay. That is a constant I can deal with. There might not be enough money in the bank account until Friday. I might not be able to buy flowers on Sunday. No sugar for my oatmeal. No happy ending despite 20 minutes of effort. The bus, 15 minutes late. My toast, burned and black. Can't change it. Life isn't always going to be spectacular. Can only move on to the next moment, drama-free. I won't always feel this neutral, but I'm a long way from how I've been feeling the last five years. Probably the best I'll ever be.

The weekend went nicely. Didn't do much; just watched movies, toured my boyfriend's new neighborhood (very family-oriented, with plenty of schools, parks, and homes), went for a bicycle ride this afternoon, drank much much tequila with limes & tangelos, and got some writing done. Made it back in LA not much after 9:00 pm, with plenty of time to get some sleep before the workweek starts, and to study for an essay exam on Tuesday. So ideal, this middle ground. It's all I could want at this moment.

Verve

I am wondering if there is something wrong with me, in that I'll leave my boyfriend downstairs watching August Rush so I can dork around on the internet - namely YouTube, so as to watch clips of the most disturbing scenes of the Saw movies.

I've no faith in frou frou.

I had quite possibly the best sushi in Los Angeles tonight, shared over a bottle of Kurosawa sake.

This weekend is already exceeding expectations.

(expect nothing; leave happy)

Ambiguous by nature

If I could recommend having anything at your disposal as a writer it would be

(at all times)
a writing instrument
something to write on (post-its, if not receipt or business card)
cell phone
iPod (video or otherwise)
audio recorder

(when on assignment)
digital camera
comfortable shoes
a sweater

I'm not the best at anything, but in lieu of ginko biloba, the aforementioned help me to not misplace my mind, or a track on a setlist, or some quip that that beholds the potential of relevant interjection.

I coasted along today. Normalcy has been lacking due to the fires in the Valley, but I'm glad that the worst is over. The final Presidential debate has taken place. I am registered and all at once proud to be an American. This week I've been taking each day one by one, instead of bunching Mon.-Fri. into one long unsatisfying cock tease - and so far it has worked out to my psyche's advantage. I can also assume that having gotten five-plus hours of sleep each night has improved my reactions to others' idiosyncrasies. Tomorrow I've got to get up early to finish a review, work, school, and head home by 11pm. Another day in the life.

And as for the weekend - I have no idea what lies in store, but I hope very much that it doesn't involve any exposed nerves. This I will always work on.

Preoccupied

I usually check my work messages every morning, but I guess I haven't checked my cell messages in a while, which is probably why there were sixteen messages waiting for me to listen to. Sixteen. I hate voicemail, really. And I've not been wanting to take calls, but it's probably best that I learn to like it.

My mood has been pinched. I've been feeling bleh about things like karma, other people, and the future. I suppose everyone feels that way. I've got more important things to think about, like writing, keeping in contact with people, networking, or re-filling my birth control for the year. . . which I might want to do today, actually.

Summertime isn't a particularly pleasurable time for me, unless parts of it are spent by the shore. On the other hand, summertime means that autumn is approaching, autumn always being absolute heaven. Three months of splendor. I saw ads posted for the Halloween Fright Fair that my college has every year - hella expensive, but the pumpkin patch and corn field is nice to ride by on the bicycle. Being in New York last year for the Halloween parade was a scream, the air and the color, and innumerable jack o'lanterns on stoops and in windows was so damned nice. I feel alive when the prospect of dead things scampering around presents itself each year. That's the kind of childish fantasy I can contend with.

So looking forward to that makes things okay for now. It's still summertime, but I think we're all anticipating the autumn nights, a harvest moon; an 11:30pm viewing of The Nightmare Before Christmas on Hollywood Blvd. . . baking pumpkin pies all season. Orange candles, candy corn, and a flight to New York in November.

Summertime can totally take a flying leap off of my calendar.

Those summer nights

Today: not all the coffee in the world was able to cut through the fact I was not to think my own thoughts for eight hours (other than "Oh God, please make it stop"), at all.

This evening: I had made advance plans to have the rear wheel of my road bike repaired by my younger brother and his fixie friend , but my mood was in a sucky place. Nothing sounded better than ordering in orange chicken & steamed rice, and catching up on Swingtown. When I got home, though, I readied self for company -and as a result, the rear wheel is fixed. As payment I took brother and friend out to dinner and gave them bus fare for the ride home, despite personal, predicted bi-monthly dwindling of funds.

Having my bicycle fixed is the best thing to have happened lately, as riding it every day tends to be as beneficial to my mood as sex. With both now functioning and operational, the rest of the day doesn't really stand a chance.