I always wanted to be Veronica; but I'm Betty.

Idiosyncratic

Someone told me today, "it's important to know your quirks!"
Luckily, I make a habit of cataloging them:

1. I have a thing for covers of "Wonderwall"
2. My idea of taking a risk is enjoying the occasional rare steak. (living dangerously)
3. Grammer is the basis of all my friendships.
4. I always cry at the end of "My Best Friend's Wedding"
5. I am fascinated, and oddly attracted to intonation and tone of voice of the opposite sex.
6. I have an irrational fear of chairs breaking underneath me
7. I love sleeping in hotels (& I never, EVER, sleep on my back!)
8. I never wear pink (coral;maybe)
9. I'm always in the middle of at least 3 different books
10. I love the smell of old books, the sound of crunching leaves and the feeling of being submerged in water.
11. I hate holding hands, and especially interlocking fingers
12. I often like to imagine the sounds that inanimate objects would make if they could vocalize
13. Sometimes I eat cereal for all 3 meals of the day
14. I would rather have a dog than a boyfriend
15. I talk incredibly fast, and even faster when I'm nervous
16. My ideal man is basically a lumberjack (i.e.; tall, bearded, and lots of flannel)
17. I hate the word panties
18. Outward displays of emotion make me incredibly uncomfortable
19. The more syllables, the better.
20. I'd rather be interesting than beautiful
21. I always think it is romantic when a woman ties a man's tie in old movies
22. Sometimes classical music moves me to tears
23. I find washing dishes to be incredibly therapuetic
24. I hate the words "slice" and "cuisine"

finish your collapse and stay for breakfast.

There is nothing else I would rather do with my time. meticulous. My dad said he was proud of me this weekend; (first time, ever?). I can't explain the euphoria of that feeling. Which was quickly counteracted by the awful migraines I've been getting daily. ALEVE Migraine, orange juice, and animal crackers. triumph.



I'm going to start speaking exclusively in declarative sentences.

mer·cu·ri·al /mərˈkyʊəriəl/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[mer-kyoor-ee-uhl]

–adjective

1.	changeable; volatile; fickle; flighty; erratic: a mercurial nature.

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A Tawdry Affair

I wish I had more to say, but all I know right now is that I am not sure about anything. I can feel self-sabotage creeping in, and as cynical as I am, I want so badly to cling to someone (anyone) so I don't feel like I'm sinking alone. I'm being melodramatic, and paranoid. But I'm not sure what to do. I need to make decisions. Recently I started thinking about transience. How, scientifically, at 30 your body prepares for death. I know I'm still a century away from that inevitable decline, but I feel like time is running out for me to start feeling like I know what I want. I feel like somehow, I've passed my expiration date. As though even if I wanted to let someone in, I couldn't.

hello, Boston.

I wish I wasn't always in a constant state of longing. I might be out of this city sooner than I think.

Somehow my feelings keep getting hurt:

quote:

"you bring out the worst in the best guys."

chocolate cake for

breakfast.

Clumsy

I'm not graceful; got this wound the old fashioned way: tripped on concrete. So glad no on was around to see it. It's presence is a constant reminder that I'd rather be interesting than beautiful or poised.

currently,

drowning my sorrows in fruit loops.

Listen to Opus 23

Dustin O'Halloran is pure genius. Absolute, heartbreaking, unparalleled genius. I haven't been this impressed with music in a long, long time. It reminds me of when I lived in Trinidad and every westerly wind carried a concerto; every moment was scripted with its own score. Download it, buy it, borrow it; whatever, just get your hands on it.

despondent

I feel anxious.

ee cummings

Encounters

I went into class early today to make-up a practical. While painstakingly piping rosettes with whipped-cream, I came upon a conversation with my Chef about how he met his wife. "We met over the phone", He said. "When I had my first restaurant, she worked for the company I would call to order from. I called every night at midnight, and we would talk for hours. She would put me on hold and come back and talk every night. By the time we first met, we had been talking on the phone for seven months, and I was so nervous, because I knew I was already in love with her." My heart sank, (does that really happen to people, and not just in Cary Grant movies?). I asked how he proposed. "We went out to dinner, and I can't remember what we ate. It is the only time I can't remember what we were eating."

Then, later, at the post office I stood in line with a man who was in his late 80's, and had the charm and rough accent of Marlon Brando in The Godfather. He asked if I was married to which I cynically replied, "no, not for a long time". He seemed puszzled, looked at the emblem on my chefs coat and asked if I haven't already tried cooking for them, I replied yes, way to the heart is through the stomach. "What's wrong with these guys these days", He said. I laughed. "No, no, no", He said, "it will happen. It's hard to find the right guy, but when you do, you'll know. It will feel linear."

I love words, and what an amazing choice: linear. It rolls of my tongue even now, and I feel, in some ways, completely reinvented. Less misanthropic. happier, for just having met him.

Look: I'll tell you a secret.
Hemingway was a cynic like me. He married, and he loved, but he never felt complete. In his books, the romances of his characters were always tragic, marked with failure - even in his memoirs. There were never exchanges of the heart, perhaps to signify the importance of missed opportunities. But once, and only once, did he ever reveal a monologue of pure love: In "For Whom the Bell Tolls",which reads:

" Do you know that until I met thee I have never asked for anything? Nor wanted anything? Nor thought of anything except the movement and the winning of this war? Truly I have been very pure in my ambitions. I have worked much and now I love thee and, " he said it now in a complete embracing of all that would not be, "I love thee as I love all that we have fought for. I love thee as I love liberty and dignity and the rights of all men to work and not be hungry. I love thee as I love Madrid that we have defended and I love all my comrades that have died. and many have died. Many. Many. Thou canst think how many. But I love thee as what I love most in the world and I love thee more. I love thee very much, rabbit. More than I can tell thee. But I say this now to tell thee a little, I have never had a wife and now I have one and I am happy. "

And because of him, I am torn between reclusiveness and the "For Whom the Bell Tolls theory": no man is an island.