So, this is my life.

And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

post(ing) secret(s)

if i had achieved that six-pack for which i so desperately yearned, i would've been a total slut.*

*read: even more of a slut.


Monday, July 25, 2011

outta my, outta my head

Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts
and we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face
and I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance
and up until now I had sworn that I'm content with loneliness

Saturday, July 23, 2011

quote of the week, thus far

You know what I discovered? It's not who you want to spend Friday night with, it's who you want to spend all day Saturday with.

truth, people.  from Friends with Benefits, which i saw today and which i very much enjoyed.  

i love Mila Kunis, J.Timbs is naked during the majority of the film, and the acting was surprisingly good.  also, lots of cameos by random stars who i didn't even know were in the film, including my fave, Emma Stone.


Friday, July 22, 2011

welcome home

it was great to arrive home and find this little birthday gift waiting for me.  the Brown Betty cupcakes were nice as well.  thanks, roommates!

i'll return to my healthful detox after this weekend of partying.

Monday, July 18, 2011

coelho says...

I can see the storm approaching.  Like all storms, it brings destruction, but at the same time, it soaks the fields, and the wisdom of the heavens falls with the rain.  Like all storms, it will pass.  The more violent it is, the more quickly it will pass.

I have, thank God, learned to weather storms.

T and i are re-reading Paulo Coelho's "The Witch of Portobello."  i haven't read it since the Spring of 2008.  it is now a totally new book to me, and for it i have both new understanding and a different level of identification.  

when i revisit Coelho's writing, i always wonder why i stayed away for so long.  the man writes to my soul, and i should read him all the time. 

Saturday, July 16, 2011

i hope you dance.

last night i tried a sort of social science experiment, and the results were just as i had hypothesized: it is very difficult to go out dancing without being under the influence.

i like to drink.  i like to dance with my friends. i like to do these things in tandem.  they go well together, these things.  

what would prompt me to go out to a dark, sweaty, over-crowded, straight, divey, hipster club while sober?  well, i've been detoxing.  for the past 12 days i've been abstaining from alcohol in order to both give my liver a short break and to lower my tolerance so that i can get totally pissed on my upcoming birthday.  

it should not surprise you that avoiding alcohol can be a damper on a strapping young man's social life.  i've turned down countless social invitations for fear of being unable to avoid temptation once face to face with the sweet nectar of the gods that i lovingly call wodka.  it had been only two weeks, but that's two very quiet weekends on my couch and taking walks and getting to bed early.  by last night, i was ready to go out.

as i mixed cocktails and grabbed beers for the five guys pre-gaming in my living room last night, i wasn't really tempted to mix one for myself.  i was armed with sugar-free Red Bull, and aside from trying Skinnygirl Margarita for the first time, i didn't really feel the urge to drink.  fast-forward two hours and a short taxi ride away, and the urge was coming on strong.  music blasting, floor vibrating, sweaty slutty girls bumping into me, ambiguously gayish cute boys dancing around me, headache knock knock knocking on my lobes.  

"I need a drink," my soul cried. 

just then one of my boys leaned in and yelled into my ear, "It's not as fun when you're not drunk, is it?"

"I'm having fun," i responded.

"No you're not. You're miserable."

i buckled under pressure and had a couple PBR's.  they weren't enjoyable. they didn't measure up to the Stoli-seltzer of which i would've liked to have an IV drip.  but they took the edge off, and i was able to dance (kind of) comfortably (kind of) for a few hours, all the while very conscious of how i was dancing.  it was a fun night, and the energy drank got me so amped up that i opted to walk the 1.7 miles home and then stayed up to enjoy my new fave show (Curb Your Enthusiasm) until 3:30 AM. 

today i'm left wondering how teetotalers can party and let loose in public places; my gal pal dated a guy who was in AA and who enjoyed going out to clubs and dancing while drinking only Red Bull.  when he told me this, i couldn't fathom finding that enjoyable, let alone exciting. kudos to people who are able to do so.  it means more vodka for the rest of us.

my detox isn't over, despite a few sips of Bethenny's tequila juice and the two cheap beers.  i'm still abstaining until my birthday, and i may try again to go out while above the influence.  in fact, i may try again tonight.  

i hope that you're having a fantastic weekend, sober or intoxicated. 

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

campbell says...

You must give up the life you had planned, in order to live the life that is waiting for you.

i've given up.  all of it.  i've given up all of my plans. 


Tuesday, July 12, 2011

in the know

if you don't yet have Google+, you're so two thousand and late.  i have it, and all the cool people i know have it.

in other news, i have no clue what Google+ is supposed to do for me.  every day when i log on, the plus informs me that my friends are "hanging out" online without me.  

once upon a time, when i was 17 years old and used Yahoo! to "meet" "friends" all over the country, we used to call this phenomenon a chat room. (what's your a/s/l?).  for a brief period in 1999, i was dating a gorgeous blonde girl who lived in Virginia and who i never met.  i am certain that she was real, because she sent me handwritten letters and cards enclosing her senior class photos.  we met in a public chat room for Christian teenagers, but once we got serious, we chatted privately on AIM every night before bed.  for me, it was the perfect romantic relationship with a girl.  at any rate, the chat room thing is now called a "hangout," according to Google.

now you know.


Monday, July 11, 2011

the dog days

if you hate summer weather as much as i do andalwayshaveandalwayswill, i can offer you plenty of suggestions for ways to spend a free day in the dead of summer. 

most Philadelphians migrate "down na shoowuh" (translation: to the beach) every weekend of the summer.  i've learned that, for many of my neighbors, "the weekend" extends from Thursday after work through Monday morning at 6 AM, leaving these people just enough time to make it back to the city to work.  

i still am not like these Philadelphians, possibly because i grew up too far from any beach to ever become accustomed to going.  or possibly because i don't really like the beach that much, and if i happen to make it there any time between April and October, i spend the entire trip sitting in the shade and re-applying sunscreen.  i would like to still look like this when i'm 45.  well, like this but more muscular.  and richer.  i'd like to look richer and more muscular.

at any rate, this weekend was a hot one.  so, so hot.  beautiful and sunny, but humid as your knee pits, as per usual in Pennsylvania.  so i spent Saturday at a cool museum.  after 6 years in Philadelphia and visits to almost every other art and science museum that the city has to offer, i finally visited PENN's Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology.  it's a fairly small museum compared to the PMA or DC's and Pittsburgh's natural history museums, but it's full of fascinating finds and precious artifacts.

standing at the foot of the second largest sphinx ever unearthed made me feel very small (hey, remember that Postsecret from yesterday?).

 all the sarcophagi (sp?) and unwrapped mummies (there are many at the museum, which surprised and impressed me) made me feel very --- well, alive, obvi. but also insignificant. in the end, we're all just piles of bones decaying in the ground.  or piles of ash scattered to the wind. 

 this African god mask made me feel very handsome.

those are rhinoceros teeth.

and looking at my roommate through the second largest flawless crystal ball in existence (from, like, 8th century China or something) just made me feel like a great photographer.  i'm so creative...

i have many more photos, but those are the highlights.  i can't just share every exciting thing that i do every day, people.  first, i don't have the time.  my life is very exciting.  second, i need my privacy.

just a couple of my other suggestions are sitting at the art museum and reading, as well as seeing a double feature at the theater (if you can find two movies that you want to see; i couldn't find even one this weekend.  well, i'm thinking about "Bad Teacher"...).  but for this weekend, the archaeo/anthropology museum was perfect.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

post(ing) secret(s)

me, too.
the beach.
looking up at the starry sky while home on the farm.
also, looking out of airplane windows.

so small.


Tuesday, July 5, 2011

genetically predisposed

today my mom beat me for the first time at an iPhone app/game called Hanging with Friends (a combination of hangman and Scrabble/Words with Friends).  i wasn't pleased. 

i don't like to lose, and i almost never lose at Scrabble or the like. ask anyone who's played either with me during the past 15 years.

i got my competitive spirit from her. and our current game just got real serious, y'all.

Monday, July 4, 2011

"grant her a rough patch"

i came across this "Prayer for My Daughter," written by the brilliant and always hilarious Tina Fey.  i don't yet have a daughter, but i love this and have to share.  

i am still laughing, and i've read it three times.

First, Lord: no tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
 Lead her away from acting but not all the way to finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes and not have to wear high heels.
 What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
 May she play the drums to the fiery rhythm of her own heart with the sinewy strength of her own arms, so she need not llie with drummers.
 Grant her a rough patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, for childhood is short – a tiger flower blooming magenta for one day – and adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
 O Lord, break the internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers and the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
 And when she one day turns on me and calls me a bitch in front of Hollister, give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, for I will not have that shit. I will not have it.
 And should she choose to be a mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
 ”My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a mental note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

post(ing) secret(s)

OMG, same here.  but more like when i'm 50.