Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Twice Broken, Once Shy

They say that nice guys finish last and yeah, this is probably true. We always throw the nice guy aside for the asshole and regret it later on down the line. But by that time, it's too late to take things back: we've already broken their heart.

Unless you're me and you manage to do this to the same guy twice.

Seal (just go with it) and I met when I was dating my first boyfriend one night in April 2001 when a group of us went out to Applebees. I thought he was really cute... and tall. We kind of flirted a bit. He stole a cup from the restaurant and then whacked his head on my car door. But it turned out he was like, 15 and I was 17. (Plus, you  know, I had a boyfriend.)

A few months later, I was at my friend Kaylee's house getting ready to go to a house party at our friend's house; I had a cute guy from our summer job with me as my date. (And yes, I was still going out with my boyfriend - but it was the summer before college, and I was determined to leave him behind when I left for school and have some fun. He was also a recluse who played online RPGs and didn't drive so he never left the house and hence, I couldn't get caught!) Well, in walked my friend's boyfriend with Seal - we were all going to the party together. Now I was in a dilemma: One girl, two cute and very young boys. What's a girl to do? Simple. Spend the first half of the night with boy #1 until he has to leave at midnight, at which point your friend's boyfriend plays the ultimate wingman and pushes you into a pantry closet with boy #2. Problem solved.

I basically started "dating" Seal all summer before I left for college, despite having an actual boyfriend. We did all kinds of couple-y things like go to dinner and the mall and the amusement park. (We took adorable kissy faced photobooth pics and he won me a stuffed mouse.) I even took him to our summer job's end of season dinner. But then summer ended and I went away to college. And then I found out he got drunk one night and hooked up with some ugly fat girl. I called him and yelled at him and you know what he said to me? "But you have a boyfriend!!!!" The nerve. I ended things with him. I couldn't believe he was hooking up with other girls! I thought we had a thing! I went to my friend's boyfriend's house for New Year's Eve and he was there and, while he was drunk and crying and telling me he loved me, I told him he didn't know what love was and I hated him.

I never talked to him again....Until four years later.

My friends and I were going out clubbing one night when Kaylee decided to sideline me; She didn't tell me that her ex-bf had invited Seal with us. So when they picked me up and he was in the car, I gave my biggest "OH HELL NAW!" face the whole ride. Seal said hello and I was definitely less than cordial. I gave him the death stare all night. When we were waiting for the subway home, everyone was kind of tired and out of it and I was starting to sober up. Seal started talking to me and somehow, he broke my anger spell when he mentioned he was reading Descartes in Comp & Lit class. I had just read it too so we broke out into this whole conversation about it. We talked the whole ride home and, when everyone else was too tired to go to the diner afterwards, me and him decided to go alone.

We had a good time talking and eating and he was going to give me a ride home. When we got into his car, it was kind of cold and he had to wait a bit for his car's heat to kick in. So, he said to me - and this is probably the best line I've ever heard in my life: "I hear the fastest way to warm is through your lips." And he kissed me. Suddenly, all those butterflies and feelings from the first time were coming back. We started hanging out again, doing coupley things. Going to dinners and movies. But there was another problem this time: I didn't have a boyfriend, but I was still pining over who-was-soon-to-be-my-epically-horrible-ex. (Who I had dated briefly that winter and stopped talking to, but was hoping to try to reconnect with.)

While Seal and I were having great times together, I couldn't stop thinking about that Shithead and I don't even know why. Seal was sweet and kind and funny and goofy. (He was also a bit of a flighty pothead.) He was thoughtful and wonderful and would have done everything and anything to me, catered to my every desire. He tried so hard to impress me. The most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me was when Seal took me to the toy store and bought me a Winnie the Pooh kite. Then he took me to the park where we flew the kite and he spread out a blanket on the grass and we laid down together with the kite in the air, snuggling and kissing. He asked me to be his girlfriend and I said, no, I don't really wanna be in a relationship. He asked me if it had to do with the other guy. I kinda lied and said no, but it was.

Then Seal started getting clingy and trying really hard to win me over, changing to be like some nerdy TV character I said I liked and that sort of reminded me of him, and it was a total turn off and I just started blowing him off and stopped answering his calls. He called and left me a drunken voicemail telling me how much he loved me and how I was breaking his heart (again). I felt like kind of a bitch, but I just was so focused on being with someone else that it didn't really affect me....

Until I started dating that asshole and every minute where I felt like I just wanted to die from the way he was treating me, I would stop and think to myself, "Why the fuck didn't I just date Seal???" I would have been so happy and treated like a Princess instead of being told to walk in front of a bus and being called a stupid bitch. I would have someone who would have done everything for me without being asked, instead of having someone who wouldn't even pay his own bills or pick up his clothes without a fight.

A few years later, Kaylee sidelined me again and Seal came out to a group dinner with us, but this time, he had his new girlfriend with him. I was alone, of course, since my ex was the world's biggest asshole and couldn't be taken in public without creating a scene and embarrassing everyone in his presence - also, all my friends hated him. So, I tried to pretend like I was soooo happy. But it was killing me to see him with someone else. Making someone else happy the way he should have been making me happy. I looked him up on Facebook today - He's still with her now, and they look unbelievably, blissfully in love.

I had a dream about Seal last night. He told me he still loved me but he couldn't let me break his heart again. This time, I wouldn't. But people don't get third chances.


I'm sorry, Mark. 

Monday, September 27, 2010


I dabbled into a bit of co-habitation during my early 20s. It was clearly the worst idea that I ever had in my entire life and I will probably not ever live with a (straight) member of the male sex ever again unless I have a ring on my finger and my name is legally bound on a marriage certificate. Oh sure, there's a lot to be said for living with someone if you are planning on eventually getting married. But if you're dating, then honey, you're just roommates.

And if you thought living with roommates sucked, living with your significant other can be 100x worse.

First off, when you're living with roommates, everything is pretty much defined in terms of who is taking what responsibilities in the apartment, what spaces are off limits, whose food you shouldn't eat, who pays what bills, etc. When you are living with an SO, most of this goes out the window. What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine, right?

Your food is combined. Your finances (at least some of them) are combined. Your laundry is combined. You sleep in the same bed.

Of course, the honeymoon stage is fun at first. You're LIVING TOGETHER! That means, no roommates barging in, no commuting from one place to the other. You're together, in the same place at the same time, 24/7. Isn't it so great?

Wrong. This lovey dovey phase passes and then, the things that you used to love coming home to start pissing you off.

He left dirty dishes in the sink.
She left a tampon in the toilet. 
He left the seat up.
Her hair is clogging the drain. 
His beard shavings are all over the sink.
She forget to pick up milk again.
He forgot to take the garbage out again.

And more of that. Yeah....

Or, especially in the case of my former relationship - it was me getting upset at my ex for all of those things. For never giving me money for groceries, yet sure as hell eating everything in the fridge. Then, when I would complain about it, he would tell me "Well, I didn't tell you to buy all that stuff!" Then Asshole, You don't need to fucking eat it!

I tried to get him to do the dishes once and he cried and told me to never make him do it again.

He made me do his laundry, and then when the dryer "shrank" his clothes (aka he put on 60 lbs over the course of our relationship and was in denial), he blamed it on me.

He never cleaned.... except my car, which was apparently his main responsibility in the house. And so, that apparently admonished him from all household chores since he was "taking care of my car." (And by 'taking car of' he meant lowering it 2 inches from the ground so that it scraped while going over pebbles and installing a fart can muffler that had the decibel level of an F-15 fighter jet.)

Everything in that house I paid for. (Except the 42 inch plasma screen TV - which he stole from his old job.) And so, when I left, I took everything the fuck with me.


I am terrified of a repeat of that horrible past living experience. Obviously, I know that no one can ever come close to being as awful a roommate as my ex was. But that still doesn't make me feel any better about co-habitation. I just don't think people should move in together unless they are really serious and planning on being in a relationship for a long time - otherwise, yes, basically you are just roommates.

You have to get to know each other's highs and lows, respect each other's boundaries, learn how to respect your shared living space, work out detailed chores and schedule bill paying.Will you set up some kind of combined finances for all your household expenses? Who will pay what bills? What about furniture and grocery shopping? Will your tastes combine or clash - or will you create your own "couple style"?

Sure, living together seems great in theory, but it is a big leap to take and something that should really be thought out before you rush into signing a lease. Otherwise, you could get stuck living with someone you really can't stand. (and a bunch of IKEA furniture that you'll just end up selling on Craigslist.)

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Getting out of the 'Comfort Zone'

I've always had a problem with straying away from the familiar. For years, my wardrobe consisted of dark colors - blues, browns, greys, blacks. Graphic tees. Things that were comfortable and safe. Last year, when I started my new job, I started to venture out from the familiar as I re-vamped my work wardrobe. Button down shirts in every color of the rainbow with stripes and plaids, flower pins, snakeskin belts, herringbone flats, candy colored cardigans, pearl necklaces with tulle rosettes. Statement pieces.

In my regular wardrobe, I started to be more daring as well: Plaid orange and purple button downs. Skinny jeans with distressing and rips on the knees.4 inch wool grey pumps. Leggings with ankle boots and tunic shirts. A tan leather/bomber jacket acquired in Shibuya 109 with frilled shoulders, deep v-neck and a 3 inch zip on the bottom. A teal plaid flannel moto-jacket/shirt.

With regards to my life, I am still trying to venture out from the comfort zone I had always known. Growing up, I was the loner, the quiet, independent girl. I'd stay home and read and watch TV. I'd go to the movies and concerts alone. I ate chicken nuggets and fries religiously and was nervous about trying new foods because they might be gross or hot or spicy. I have and still am breaking boundaries in regards to my palate. I have acquired a love for Indian, Vietnamese and Thai food. In Japan, I was willing to try anything at least once like octopus, okonomiyaki and chicken curry. I have stopped being opposed to eating things just because I don't know what they are so I am not sure if I will like them or not. And now I found myself with a never-ending desire to eat corned beef sandwiches and tofu summer rolls.

My social life is still on eggshells. I am nervous about meeting new people and opening up about my life and my past. I am afraid to trust because I am afraid of getting hurt. I am basing everything in the future on everything that has happened in the past, and it is keeping me stuck in my comfort zone: being a shut-in every weekend when I should be out socializing and enjoying the weather and this city. At work, I don't talk to a lot of people other than those in my immediate office - I tell myself it is because I am trying to keep things professional, or because I don't care about getting to know little stupid facets of people's personal lives, or because I'm leaving next year so what's the point. But it's because I am afraid to let people in, to let them get to know me.

At happy hour last night, a co-worker that I'm not particularly fond of and I got to talking about stuff like TV and travel and I jokingly suggested we go to Atlantic City later that night. He was 100% serious about it. And so, at 8:30 that night, I found myself in the backseat of his car with him & his friend on the way to Atlantic City. Completely on a whim. Totally random. He joked with me that he was surprised I came because I "hate him". I joked back "Yeah, I know. I do." But we had a great time and of course, left alone with his friend, she asked me where I hung out on the weekends and I blushed and looked away when I told her I stay at home because I don't have a lot of friends, despite living here for a year. She told me that they go out a lot in my area and I should come out some time and took my number down. The inner dork inside me, the one longing for acceptance, smiled and save her number in my phone too. At the end of the night, I had had a really great time and made some new friends that I will hopefully hang out with again sometime soon.

See? That wasn't so hard. I can do this. Baby steps, baby steps.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

So Happy I Could Die

In October 2008, I went to the New Kids on the Block Reunion concert at Madison Square Garden. Listed as the opening acts were Natasha Beddingfield, of into theme to "The Hills" fame, and someone calling herself "Lady Gaga". When she hit the stage in an all white ensemble and long platinum blond wig with half naked men writhing around to house music, literally everyone in the 20,000 seat venue went "Who's this bitch?" I thought maybe she was some kind of Euro-pop star that was just starting to get big over here in the U.S. so I Googled her on my Blackberry. Turns out she was just some broad from Yonkers. The last song she played sounded familiar - it was "Just Dance" and Z-100 had just started playing it recently. I went, "Hey, I know this song. I like this song." Of course, my Main Gay already was all over the Lady Gaga thing, raving about how great she was, so I downloaded her album. It was fun, quirky dance music. I remember listening it to as I walked from the train to my job the next week on a brisk, November morning and instantly, I was on Team Gaga.  Before she had 6 million followers on Twitter, I remember clicking on that button to follow her when she had roughly 150,000 followers - and imagine my surprise when a few days later, I received an email telling me that Lady Gaga was following ME on Twitter now too!

"Just Dance" soon took over the radio and the rest of her pop anthems slowly crept over the rest of society, with "Poker Face" became musical crack-cocaine, the stuttering and catchy lyrics getting stuck in everyone's heads. By Spring 2009, Gaga-Fever had swept the nation; Gaga's crazy outfits and antics were getting the attention of everyone from Toledo to Tokyo. She graced the cover of Rolling Stone magazine in an outfit made entirely of bubbles. Her video for "Paparazzi" (with the oh-so-yummy Alexander Skarsgaard from 'True Blood') garnered so much attention that when she performed it live at the VMAs, in a show where Kanye West snatched a mic from Taylor Swift, Gaga doubled up and "hung" herself from the ceiling of Radio City Music Hall, dripping in fake blood, it was one of the most EPIC performances ever to grace the stage. (Unfortunately, because of Kanye's antics, the proposed tour with him and Lady Gaga was canceled. It would have been one of the best tours ever I believe.) I even dressed up as Lady Gaga for Halloween in a lavender bodysuit, blond wig complete with hairbow and hula hoops around my body ala the promotional pictures for her upcoming tour, "The Monster Ball" and I came in 2nd place in a Karaoke contest for singing "Poker Face".

And so, with the release of her 2nd album, The Fame Monster, Gaga-mania was in full effect. She was everywhere. She was Marching for Gay Rights, she was collaborating with Beyonce, she was meeting the Queen of England, she was opening the Grammys with Elton John in another EPIC performance that brought tears to my eyes and she was touring non-stop all over the globe, selling out every show in every city, bringing much joy to the masses and much money into the pockets of scalpers who could get away with charging whatever they wanted in the midst of Gaga-fever.

As the Monster Ball made its way around the globe, I tried from January to July, desperately trying to get tickets for her shows in NYC - both mine and Lady Gaga's hometowns... Turns out, she wasn't from Yonkers after all. She was from NYC, born and raised, and dispelled the myth of her birth as the "worst rumor she had ever heard about herself" on Jay Leno's show. Even when I was in Japan in the spring and Gaga was doing 4 shows in Kobe and Yokohama, I still couldn't get tickets.... Until this week that is.

Lady Gaga was doing a 2 night stint here in Philadelphia. I looked on Stubhub, Ebay and Craigslist, desperately trying to find a decent price for a single ticket. People wanted $150-$200 for obscured view, club box and even nosebleed tickets. I wasn't willing to settle. I kept looking. And to my luck, there was one posting that read "1 Lady Gaga Ticket 9/15 - $95" and I checked it out. A girl was selling her FLOOR ticket at almost half the price as people wanted for seats! I quickly emailed her asking if it was still available, and it was. I told her I'd meet her the next day, cash in hand. At 12:35 the next afternoon, I had procured my ticket and had the biggest smile on my face for the rest of the day.

I rushed home and amended my Halloween costume from last year, included a leather jacket and some ankle boots and using a LOT of Aquanet and bobby pins, rolled my hair up in some soda cans like in the "Telephone" video. I set out for the venue and proudly strutted my way to the entrance to the floor, got a beer, and found my spot for the show. When the lights dimmed and the music started pumping, my heart started beating and with those opening notes to "Dance in the Dark", the crowd went wild and I was transported on the 2 hour journey that was the Monster Ball. I cheered and put my paws up. I laughed at her jokes. I screamed when she said scream and jumped when she said jump. I cried when she emerged from the stage wearing a movable piece of art and fashion she calls "The Living Dress" and performed my favorite song, "So Happy I could Die" - a platform elevating her high above the crowd and I looked up as tears streamed down my face, ruining my mascara. At that moment, I was truly so happy I could have died. And when she came out for her final encore, those unmistakable notes of "Bad Romance", the crowd went wild and moved in unison as one giant Little Monster.

That night, I came to see what all the fuss about her live shows has been about: Her vision is truly remarkable and can be seen in every detail in her show from the sets to the lighting to the costumes to the interludes. She is beautiful, intelligent, talented and has an amazing voice. She speaks her mind. She loves one and all unconditionally and holds no judgment. Everything she does is for her fans and completely selfless. She tells her fans to love themselves and be who they are and to not be afraid, because she will be there for them. She has given me hope and strength in myself through her music and her persona, making me feel empowered and beautiful.

I grew up hating my big Italian nose, but thanks to Lady Gaga, who is also a beautiful, big nosed Italian girl, I just now at 26 years old have grown to love how I look and embrace it as part of who I am.Your flaws are not flaws at all; they are what makes you who you are, they make you beautiful and you were BORN THAT WAY.

Lady Gaga is loved, hated, revered, abhorred, idolized, feared and celebrated the world over. She is only 24 years old and already a force to be reckoned with. I can't wait to see what is next to come from this amazing woman in the years to come, but I can't even begin to imagine how she will top herself next.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Always Remember, Never Forget

Nine years ago today, my life and the entire world as we knew it, changed forever.

September 11, 2001.

I was but a week away from starting my Freshman year of college in Boston. I had planned on spending the remaining days before I left enjoying my freedom and taking in the sights of my beloved New York City. My parents had just gone down to the World Trade Center the weekend before to see some cruise ships that had come in. They walked through the lobby of WTC 1 and thought to themselves, Wow, we've lived here our whole lives and never been to the top. Should we go now? Nah, it'll still be here another day. So, my ex-boyfriend and I had made a plan that we would wake up early, take the train into Manhattan, and spend the whole day doing fun, touristy things.

Thankfully , I hit my snooze alarm at 7 am.

My mom woke me up at a quarter to 9. Her voice emanating from the bottom of the stairs, "Come downstairs - you have to see this!" What the hell dumb shit on Regis & Kelly was she trying to show me now? I looked at the TV and she told me, "A plane just flew into one of the Twin Towers." As I stood there, watching this burning building, the news was interviewing a woman who was out on her porch when she saw the plane strike the building. My mother and I pondered what had happened - maybe the pilot had a heart attack? As we listened to her recap and watched this building burn, a giant fireball erupted on the screen; What at first seemed like an instant reply soon was soon determined to be a second plane, as the woman who was on the phone with the news yelled, "Another plane just hit! Another plane just hit the 2nd World Trade Center!" My mother and I looked at each other and now we knew: our nation was under attack.

I immediately called my boyfriend on his cell phone. No answer. I moved on to his house phone, SCREAMING into the answer machine: "PICK UP THE PHONE!" He finally answered, drowsily asking me what was wrong. "TURN ON THE TV RIGHT NOW! TWO PLANES JUST HIT THE TWIN TOWERS!" ....... "Oh Fuck!"

My father and my aunt both worked in Manhattan. My dad, directly across from Madison Square Garden. My aunt, but a few short steps from the Empire State Building. My Grandma, mother to both of them, unable to get in touch with each other her children due to the congested phone lines in NYC, called my mother hysterical. No, we hadn't heard from my dad. We had been trying to call his job and got nothing but busy signals, too. I sat on my couch watching these two landmark buildings, the icons of my city, burn before my very eyes. Thirty minutes later, word came that another plane had hit the Pentagon in Washington DC. My best friend had just moved down there for college - and that set off even more panic in my mind. And 30 minutes later, another plane crashed in the middle of western Pennsylvania. It seemed that there was no end in sight.

I sat on my couch clutching a stuffed animal and watching the news while at almost 10 AM, a giant boom! and then a rumbling occurred in the background as all news stations were broadcasting and a giant cloud erupted across the screen, chasing a mass of firefighters who had stationed themselves on the street near the World Trade Center. Watching those brave men run, as they had no clue what was going on, was even more terrifying than anyone would have imagined. When the smoke cleared, we all saw what we had feared: The south tower, WTC 2, had collapsed into a pile of ash. And then, another mere 30 minutes later, just as the camera cut back to the fiery scene, WTC 1 - with it's iconic antennae held high - came plummeting down, imploding upon itself into the rubble.  The Twin Towers were no more.

I cried and cried and sat in fear, awaiting more horrible attacks and bad news. But finally, it seemed as though everything had come to an end. All I could hear outside my window were fire trucks, ambulances, police cars - All the local and volunteer corps had been called down to assist in the city. But my father was still missing. I knew our Credit Union was located in the lobby of Tower 1. Could my dad have gone down there to make a deposit today and gotten trapped? Would I ever see him again? Who knew? My Grandmother called to tell us that my Aunt had gotten a ride home from her boss, but still no word from my father.

Finally, at around 1:30 in the afternoon, the front door to my house opened and there stood my dad. I ran to him and hugged him for what seemed like an eternity. He had had to walk from 33rd and 8th to 42nd st/Grand Central - where they were evacuating the building when he got there. From there, he walked all the way to Harlem, 125th street and luckily caught the last train that was running out of Manhattan for the day. And he made his way home. I was never happier to see my dad in my entire life.

But now my city was in ruins - a gaping hole left in its beautiful skyline and thousands of brave citizens and unsuspecting people lost and dead in this vicious attack. And I had to go away to college in just a few short days. How could I leave now when my city needed me most? We drove up to Boston and no planes were flying in the air. It was the creepiest, most solemn sight I had ever seen. I had heard horror stories of people jumping out of windows, body parts falling from buildings, limbs being collected by the Sanitation department in giant dumpster trucks, but not being reported in the media. I sat in Freshman Comp & Lit staring out at Boston's Prudential building thinking, "What if a plane just flew into that right now? Then what?"


Nine years later, the world around me has changed so much. Where a once angered nation sought to seek justice for the horrendous terrorist attacks against the "Camel Jockeys" and "Towel Heads", a now tired nation seeks to end a senseless war that has amounted to just as many unjustified deaths as that fateful day 9 years ago. We suffered through 8 years of an incompetent man's presidency, laden with corruption and conspiracy theories. We elected our first Black president, whose term is already tainted with criticism and racism from a nation of people who are supposed to be one of the most open minded in the world. There is still a hole where those 2 almighty buildings used to stand, but we are slowly rebuilding, making ourselves stronger than ever before. But we still suffer from an insensible hatred towards a religion in which only a small percentage of their followers, extremists,  have destroyed any hope for a peaceful unity with our citizens.

Can there ever truly be peace or justice for those victims of September 11? Maybe not. But we will never forget those who risked their lives on that fateful day nine years ago. The acts of courage and selflessness that occurred by all involved will always be remembered. And as two beams of light illuminate the Manhattan skyline this night, I will remember the prayers I said then for all the people inside and continue to say to this very day and every year on the 11th day of September.

Always Remember, Never Forget.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

The Walking Idiom

I am not holding my breath anymore. I am taking all my eggs out of this basket.

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I am tired of waiting.

I used to think it was worth it - but where does waiting ever get you? It makes you paranoid that the second you stop waiting, the thing that you were waiting for will finally happen - and so you keep waiting indefinitely.

I am done putting myself out there for him, for you, for everyone. I am done being the one who cares enough to try to make plans with people or send messages or to just plain care and get nothing in return. Am I too available? Maybe. Maybe that's what makes my frustration so much more difficult. It is like the whole world is going on around me and I am just there standing still. I try to make plans with friends for drinks, dinner, vacations - and even the simplest things never come to fruition. I hate that I am always so ready to go that extra mile for everyone in my life, but I don't get the same respect in return.

Why is no one calling me or emailing me or bending over backwards to visit me or make plans with me or be an active presence in my life? Then I wind up feeling like if I am being too pro-active or too "in touch", that I am being too clingy or too dependent or too available - And all these new forms of technology that have supposed to improve our lines of communication just make it easier to be ignored, to fall under the radar, to get sorted into the "SPAM" box.

So I will just sit here and not expect your IMs or your emails or your texts or your Facebook messages or your letters or care packages or e-vites. I am done stressing myself out with all this waiting. I am walking away from this bus stop of my life - because if I get a head start,  I'll already be halfway there when you finally decide to show up.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010


A friend of mine told me today that my blog has run out of "scandeelous" stories to keep him entertained and that my blog has gotten "too serious". But alas, we can't all be young and reckless forever.

This first book of my life is coming to an end. My Scandeelous Life was a beautiful disaster - something that a quiet, straight-edge girl in High School could never have dreamed of in a million years. I have been half way around the world and back twice and seen and done some crazy things, felt amazing highs and horrifying lows, and gotten in and out of all kinds of trouble. I had my hay-day throughout college and my 20s of all night partying, drug experimentation, casual sex, girl-on-girl encounters, rollercoaster relationships. And as much as I would love to go back and relive all those amazing adventures, road trips, weekends staying out from Friday night until Sunday afternoon, going to work on 3 hours of sleep or still drunk, mornings-after nursing horrendous hangovers and trying to piece together parts of drunken, blacked out nights, I just have one thing to say:

You have to grow up sometime.

The Pursuit of Happiness

I am in a funk. A horrible, never-ending, unchanging funk. I am discontent with my current life and the direction in which it appears to be going. I am frustrated by my living arrangments, my current position of employment and my romantic situation. While I know that better things are on the horizon, it is the getting there that is frustrating me the most. Everything will change come springtime. And by this time next year, hopefully I will finally have found the balance of all things that are messing up the Feng Shui of my life.

I know that people sometimes have a tendency to view different points of their life as different chapters. Well, right now, my life feels like those last 50 pages of a really intense book where you are at the Climax and just want to know what the hell happens at the end already! I don't want to write another chapter to this current version of my life; I want to start over. To write the sequel to the first book of my life and the spin-off to this sort of short novella the past year of my life has been comprised of. I thought that the plotline was perfect when I took off from Connecticut and moved to Pennsylvania last year, but clearly, it just didn't generate that much interest and quickly fell off the Best Seller list.

I am struggling to find my place in the world, struggling to gain footing on which I can find solid ground. I want to be able to start a career in a field that I love, doing something exciting and amazing, where I can only go up and grow and learn, instead of stagnating and simply shifting sideways. I want to live in a city that I can embrace and call my own, that loves me back with the same voracity that I have come to love it over the course of my entire existence; That I can wake up in the morning and feel proud to call home and where the smile never comes off my face as I walk its streets. And I want that perfect boy - who suits me in so many ways, ways that I have been looking for my whole life over, who completes me and understands me like no one else, who matches me like for like, whose soul sings the harmony with my lead vocals - to come back and be my partner in life and never be ordinary and grow old with me.

When all these three things finally align themselves in my life, home, career and love, it will be like sitting behind a slot machine in Vegas, putting in your last quarter, pulling the handle, and seeing three "7"s pop up on the screen. I'll have won the jackpot and then I couldn't ask for anything more.

.......But until then, I'll just keep trying to breaking even.