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Thursday, February 16, 2006
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
new york city...
Yeah...it was a long weekend. I guess you could say that I got a refresher course on where my priorities are, and let me tell you, there is nothing better than sitting at home with your baby in one arm and your man in the other, watching a little Cinderella together.
The Slater Sisters (see the link on the left) had an amazing set at the Bitter End, and I think they are going to go platinum. There was a blizzard because that's what happens when I go to New York...blizzards...and I'm so happy to be back in California.
Before I left, I put Benjamin to bed and cried after he settled into his crib. I couldn't believe I would be away from him on the other side of the country for four whole days. I did better than I expected I would, but when I had time to myself, I would think about him and Ryan and how all I wanted was to be with them, and hoping I wouldn't die on the plane and never see them again because these are the types of things I think about which is why I'm the type of person who gets ulcers at the age of 25.
The night I got home, I put him down and he pointed at me and cried and his eyes begged me not to leave him again. Last night, he woke crying and wouldn't stop until I hugged him. I'm hoping tonight he will believe me when I tell him that I won't be gone in the morning.
The Slater Sisters (see the link on the left) had an amazing set at the Bitter End, and I think they are going to go platinum. There was a blizzard because that's what happens when I go to New York...blizzards...and I'm so happy to be back in California.
Before I left, I put Benjamin to bed and cried after he settled into his crib. I couldn't believe I would be away from him on the other side of the country for four whole days. I did better than I expected I would, but when I had time to myself, I would think about him and Ryan and how all I wanted was to be with them, and hoping I wouldn't die on the plane and never see them again because these are the types of things I think about which is why I'm the type of person who gets ulcers at the age of 25.
The night I got home, I put him down and he pointed at me and cried and his eyes begged me not to leave him again. Last night, he woke crying and wouldn't stop until I hugged him. I'm hoping tonight he will believe me when I tell him that I won't be gone in the morning.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
tractor
Ben's not a big talker--he's smart, sure, but he likes to keep it to himself and hustle the competition. He says "mama" and "dada" and "giya" every once and a while, "kitty" here and there. For the most part, though, he says "yeah" or "ahhh." But today, he was outside playing with his Home Depot tractor that my parents got him for Christmas and he pointed at it and clearly said, "tractor." Then he pushed the button that makes the Home Depot tractor say "tractor." He said tractor. The tractor said tractor. And back and forth at least six times. My God, the boy can speak. He's a genius. I'm a genius.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
being poor blows
Ryan and I are broke. The kind of broke that crushes your soul and makes you lie under the covers naked, cry hysterically and decide to take a couple of waitressing shifts per week at a place that specializes in tacos. That really happened. Today.
What's wrong with waitressing? Nothing. I did, once upon a time, tell myself that I would never do it again, but, hey, it's not stripping...
What's wrong with this is that I paid $64,000 (plus interest that is ticking away as I type) for a degree in creative writing from an ivy league school that pretty much means absolutely nothing. I don't think poor people should aspire towards the arts; it's too much to get on top of.
Oh the despair. Oh the self-pity. Oh the bills piling up and the credit card debt from five years ago and the collectors that come with it.
We wanted to do the right thing, to clear our names, to not make Ben check the caller i.d. before he answers the phone when he's old enough. So we turned all of our savings over to pay off our credit cards, and now we have next to nothing and we're travelling to New York this week, and I'm trying to calculate how much I can spend on food per day, and that amount equals six dollars.
I drove by my dream house today, and the "for sale" sign was down. Some rich asshole bought it.
I will not look back on this fondly. It isn't romantic. It really fucking blows.
I picked Ben up from day care today, and as we were driving home, the sky streamed pink and blue. It was really pretty, but then I realized that it must be from the fires in Orange County. I thought to myself, this should put things in perspective, but it didn't really. I still feel sorry for myself.
But tonight, Ben played in the bathtub and he stacked blocks--seven of them!--and he smiled at me and gave me high fives and held my hand and I did, for a couple of hours, stop feeling sorry for myself and smile. And that's something.
What's wrong with waitressing? Nothing. I did, once upon a time, tell myself that I would never do it again, but, hey, it's not stripping...
What's wrong with this is that I paid $64,000 (plus interest that is ticking away as I type) for a degree in creative writing from an ivy league school that pretty much means absolutely nothing. I don't think poor people should aspire towards the arts; it's too much to get on top of.
Oh the despair. Oh the self-pity. Oh the bills piling up and the credit card debt from five years ago and the collectors that come with it.
We wanted to do the right thing, to clear our names, to not make Ben check the caller i.d. before he answers the phone when he's old enough. So we turned all of our savings over to pay off our credit cards, and now we have next to nothing and we're travelling to New York this week, and I'm trying to calculate how much I can spend on food per day, and that amount equals six dollars.
I drove by my dream house today, and the "for sale" sign was down. Some rich asshole bought it.
I will not look back on this fondly. It isn't romantic. It really fucking blows.
I picked Ben up from day care today, and as we were driving home, the sky streamed pink and blue. It was really pretty, but then I realized that it must be from the fires in Orange County. I thought to myself, this should put things in perspective, but it didn't really. I still feel sorry for myself.
But tonight, Ben played in the bathtub and he stacked blocks--seven of them!--and he smiled at me and gave me high fives and held my hand and I did, for a couple of hours, stop feeling sorry for myself and smile. And that's something.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
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