Sunday, June 21, 2009

I Love Air Conditioning

It's cold in this fing computer lab...but why the hell am I complaining about that when its 157.3 degrees out? I had to plod over to the lab at high noon, because my apartment is the eqivalent of a death trap inferno most of the time these days. I feel guilty about turning the air on, because I know it pisses Nicole off, but sometimes I just have to say, well, I'd rather pay 5 extra bucks in electricity than die in a panting, heaving, pool of melted me.

I am gonna go see what Lisa Lou is up to in a minute... I hope she's home and I hope I can convince her to do something that involves air conditioning and very little effort, like going to the movies or something. I've already gone to the movies about 367 times since I've been back, it feels like. I just need to catch up on all the stuff I was missing in Ireland, where the new releases include Sweet November and Boys and Girls WARNING! Sex Changes Everything. Sheesh. But I did see the best movie of forever, a Swedish film called Together, at the Irish Film Centre, and its only know coming out here, so you evens out or something.

I miss my Ireland friends. I miss my sister. I miss alot of things. I called my parents night before last. I hadn't talked to them in months, excpet for the occasional brief email, and Chad answered the phone. We had a great conversation that just made my overemotional ass want to start bawling every other minute... Chad told me all about starting first grade, burning holes in things, (a little deviant following in his sister's proud footsteps), and all his friends in the neighborhood. It made me so sad, this whole little life that goes on without me there to see it, to really know it. And then he starting rattling off about Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers, which made me even sadder, because it reminded me of Nin and Meegs and Colleen and Ann and singing such silly cartoon anthems on the ferry from Inismore and at the bar the last night before we left for home. Sigh. I wish I had the money to develop my pictures from the trip so I could publish them here...and cry...awww, fuck it. I'm going to the movies now.

Sunday, September 21, 2003

Female Trouble for the Press

So I read this book last night, (yes, the glamorous nights of a swinging NYC single gal), and it was really strange, because it was written by the girl who writes "Female Trouble" for the Press and I had no idea until halfway through the book there is an article of the main character's, (who is also supposed to be a sex columnist), and its the exact same article as I had once read in the Press.

So then I flipped to the little author's blurb and all became clear. It was a really interesting book, because it seems almost completely autobiographical and I feel like I sorta know her in real life from reading her column here and there.

It was also fascinating because it was all about this chick's struggle between her inner sex pot and her inner housewife, which is a fight I know all to well. And her insane fantasies of love, fame, marriage and a baby carriage she drums up after ten seconds of talking to a guy were all too familiar.

I thought I was the only psycho who meets a guy at a party and occasionally, (ok, almost always), has this running movie in her head of my future with Mr. Whomever.

Him: "Hi, I'm Random Music-Obsessed-Guy-With-Serious-Commitment-Issues-and-I Really-Just-Wanna-Get-In-Your-Pants."
Me: Hi, I'm Cat!
Him: Blah, Blah, Blah, Music, Blah, Blah, Blah, Expression, Blah, Blah, Plah, Post Modern Existential Dilemma of Man, Blah, Blah, Blah
The Movie Narration Man in my Head, interrupted intermittently by swelling romantic music: Even though she is 10 years younger, there is this intense wisdom and breathtaking beauty in her sparkling green eyes that he can not resist....(weeks go by)....He is amazed by all she has to teach him, HIM, the older, wiser, thought-he'd-seen-it-all tough guy, reduced to wide-eyed amazement at this gorgeous creature. He feels the hard shell of his heart crack open, he tries to run away from the vulnerability she induces, but it is no use (Insert hand-to-forehead type dramatics here)....(years go by)...[Final pan out of happy couple with baby living in some unspeakably cute and hip apartment and living happily after.]
And I wonder why I can't keep a boyfriend. I'm sure my "sparkling green eyes" must just be dripping with delusion and pipe dreams of lazy afternoons in Thompkins Square, him with his guitar, me with my book....
Sigh. At least a girl can dream. And dreams I've got in spades.

Monday, January 21, 2002

Sex and the City Series

I am happily ensconsed in the Godlis apartment with a whole back catalogue of this season's Sex and the City and an extra large fan. Sadie and fam are out of town this week and invited me to swing by and hang if so desired, and after a day in my tiny, stuffy, lonely apartment, I decided to take them up on the offer.

Watched a movie tonight as well, Antitrust, that technothriller with Ryan Phillipe. Yeah, I know, when I saw the trailer for it at the movies, I thought, Oh How Lame. BUT....I've seen pretty every other teen movie out right now, and I was desperate for some cheesy teeny bopper biz.

I would have preferred something...pinker and girlier and sillier, but it was ok. Claire and Rachel Leigh are plenty pretty enough to make up for the silly plot stuff. Yawn...well, I'm gonna read, watch a lil Sarah Jessica, and

Friday, December 21, 2001

Job Hunting

Boo, life has been reduced to seeking air conditioned meccas, (such as this computer lab), and checking my email and answering machine for possible job offers. Shit. I have never, in the almost 10 times I have been on a job hunt in the last 8 years, had a problem finding one. It's usually I have a problem with getting too many, and then not knowing how to turn them down. Maybe Nicole was right, maybe this is a really bad job market moment. Or maybe God is testing my broke ass, knowing I'm all brimming with employment hubris or some shit. I dunno. I just hope I get one soon, not only because I have no money and yet keep spending it like it grows on trees, but also because a week free from work and school has been nice, but I'm slowly going insane. Expecially because my options of things to do with myself and mighty limited. Example: this morning I woke up at 9 to go biking or walking, as I have been every day since I got home, but the heat stroke I nearly developed simply walking into the sauna of my bathroom was enough to make me decide to save that activity till after dark. So I went back to bed and read for a while, but eventually I felt so guilty for using the air and lying about in bed that I had to get up. So I ate some cereal, took a shower, got what? I could do laundry, but sitting in a hot, sticky, laundramat for three hours in the heat of the day seemed unwise. I could call Lisa, but she's out of town. I could go shopping, but again, this requires both money and walking around in the disgusting heat. AND looking at my sweaty, dishelved countenance in store windows. I can't stay home and clean or work on craft projects because of the aforementioned air conditioner guilt. My room doens't have a window that opens of anything, so sitting there without air is out of the question. So, what can I do? Go back to where I spent four hours of my yesterday, the freaking computer lab. Well, I DO have some more job searches to do, and some thesis research to do, but nerdy am I? To spend the day in the computer lab, and top that off with perhaps a few hours in the library. Hold Mary, mother of God. I am a bonefied geek. And not in the hip Manhattan dorky cool way, either. I need a job.

Monday, December 10, 2001

Home for Christmas

I'm going home in one week and two and half hours from RIGHT NOW. Can you tell I'm a bit anxious to get there? I can't wait - the Nard Girl 5th annual holiday party, my mother's insane Christmas decoration schemes that put Martha to shame, movie day and after-Christmas bargain hunting with mom and Em, going to visit my girl Jen at her new school...its gonna be fantastic. Not to mention living somewhere free of roaches and construction and the silent treatment for a month will be heaven on earth in and of itself.
I was just re-reading this email my wonderful mother sent out to everyone she knows inviting them to our big Christmas day extravaganza, and I just got so touched. Not touched like crazy-Southern-screws-loose-touched but the sentimental kind. My mom is just so...unique! Alot of times she comes off as attitude-y and insensitive and not a little bit out of touch with reality, but reading this email she sent made me realize that its just that she is so fucking down with herself. She doesn't need to try to pander to other's wishes or restrain her silliness or sugarcoat what she feels because she doesn't need to depend on the opinions of others. She is just like, Fuck it, I am Queen Julie and I am the Shit. I wish I was like that. Maybe I will be someday...she had to go through alot of crazy shit to become to comfortable with just being who she is, consquences be damned. All I know is that no matter what differences (or similarities) have put us at odds over the years, my mom is fucking cool as shit and I want to be just like her. Except for maybe the perms. Promise me no one will ever let me get a perm at Carla's Casa de Beauty, ok?

Wednesday, November 21, 2001

Learning HTML

OK, so I'm in the midst of trying to learn HTML in the most trial-by-error manner possible, and I've got a notebook full of almost-maybe-kinda content for this blog, so in typical half-assed manner, I present to you, a work in progress, the beginnings of a whole new blog.

Monday, November 12, 2001

Airplane crash in Queens

So this morning I was getting ready for school, and it was about 10 am,
time for Ricki Lake, so I turn on the TV to catch a bit of talk show
buzz while eating breakfast. When I first turned it on, it was a news
shot of smoke and fire, and I just flipped the channel to get to Fox
5. It's kinda weird how accustomed we've become to seeing bombs and
death and destruction on the news recently that seeing smoke billowing
from some pile of rubble doesn't immediately catch the eye anymore. So
as I flip to 5, I realize this smoke picture is on every channel, so I
stopped and realized what the fuck was going on. The airplane crash in
Queens. Of course, the first thought - shit, not again. The next
thought, shit, I gotta fly out next week, this is kinda scary. Then I
listened to what was assumed to have happened and was slightly calmed
by the many assurances that this was in all likelihood not a terrorist
act. But then you think about it, and its just like, goddamn, what
terrible luck New York has going on right now. Houses on fire in Far
Rockaway, no survivors of this crash recovered as of yet, while in
Lower Mnahattan the fires of the WTC still burn...its just spooky. I
know we all have had these moments, these "I can't beleive I'm living
this, the world is changing before my eyes" moments, but I had mine
this morning.
It was shortlived, because of course three minutes later, the phone
rings, and its my dad to make sure I'm ok. My roommate's male guest
answered the phone and I knew I was gonna get an earful about that. He
first made sure that I was ok and that no, I didn't want him to drive
from Tennessee to Manhattan to pick me up, and all is well, and then
dug in. "So...the person who answered the phone...that was a boy,
huh? What....?", and I had to assure him that it was a friend of the
roommate, no ardent overnight guest of my own, which was met with a bit
of hesitation and skepticism, which was when I made my big tactical
error. I told him that I knew he was gonna call about the plane crash
and if I had a guy over here would I let him answer the phone, knowing
my very overprotective and superconservative father was calling? He
conceded no, I guess not, but then I had planted the seed that I WOULD
have guys over, I just didn't TODAY, and when DO have all these boys
over, I HIDE it from him and its only because I'm WILY that I get away
with it. So then I had to aggressively defend my celibacy, to assert
the fact that the idea of having a sleepover boyfriend is pretty much a
laughable concept for me, and then I got kinda depressed about how true
that really is. Sheesh.
Then Tyler, a.k.a. Guy I Am Dating? Went on dates with? I Don't Really
Know What Is Going on?, called to ask me what was going on with the
crash, as he has no TV, so I talked to him a bit...we had another
really odd, marathon-type date again a few days ago and I hadn't talked
to him since until this morning...I don't know. Anyway, yeah, talked
to him, too, and was nearly late for school.
I had every intention of my next blog being about my Virginia
adventures a few weeks back, but I got all distracted by today's
events...perhaps another time. I was reminded by the dear and
marvelous Kevin that I hadn't filled the world in on my misadventures below the
Mason-Dixon line, and I really need to....