I hold grudges.

So I was looking through some random facebook photo album and I saw the pic of this guy who slapped me in the face at a party about five years ago. I immediately became angry. Fists clenched, eyes narrowed, altogether a tense moment. I gave my iphone the death stare as if his picture could catch my eyes. Like laser beams. It became clear to me that I hold grudges. I've read this in my horoscope several times but thought that it didn't apply to me. So here it is for everyone to read...Larry, I forgive you for slapping me in the face even if you aren't sorry or don't remember. I think it was a bitch move, but it's ok. Everyone makes mistakes. I'll let it sliiiiiide.

I guess that means now its time to let go of the people that hurt my feelings, not my face.......

Astro-sars

This library is full of Saturday afternoon internet vultures. I walked here. I have my feet flat on the ground, an inadequate attempt to keep my mind out of outer space. Sometimes I prefer that ocean of emptiness to real life. Nevertheless, at this moment I belong to the earth. The melodrama of consuming emotion played out amongst the cast of amateurs reading a script written in heiroglyphics. Stage set with parking meters, pine cones, Dunkin Donuts, bubble jackets, and microwaves. Camera phones are patiently waiting to capture the next facebook wall photo. In fourth grade I wanted to be an astronaut. Then I met gravity. Became a nurse. Is it too late to catch that space ship and start blogging from Saturn?

CableVision

I decided at some point last week that I should buy some internet and cable. This is a novel concept for me as I have previously only embezzled internet from my neighbors with unsecured wireless networks. They were going to come set it up tomorrow morning. I was also planning on buying a computer to use along with my internet.

Once my baby car died en route to the martial arts class that was going to enable my lifelong fitness, I realized cable, internet, TVs and computers were a luxury. My hard earned, tax returned dollars have a different destiny. So I called and cut off the cable. After the 20 minute hold time, the customer servant inquired about my decision. I told her the truth. Which is....

Im living the American Dream.

Ummmm can I get that stimulus check?

Domino Rally

Domino Rally was a game from the early 90s where you set up a shit ton of dominos just to knock them all down with one fail swoop of what looked like a pinball. I like to consider myself a pinball wizard, kind of like Tommy from The Who. Setting off ripple effects of dominoes collapsing only to be rebuilt again in a much more beautiful and intricate arrangement. Its kind of like six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Its impossible to say where the beginning of this universal domino rally commennced, but I would wager it was around the time of the big bang. In this moment (from my relative perspective), my dominos seem to have fallen. I am certain that it was a glorious moment for the creator of the universe to see the arrangement collapse, almost like watching the Sarah Super Bowl. Life will pick up the pieces and synthesize, arrange, and artfully engineer a new constellation of dominos for the next realization exploitation event. I have decided to simply buy some tickets and enjoy the fireworks.

seriously, everybody was kung fu fighting

And by everybody I mean me. I took a complimentary Kung-Fu private lesson today by a shaolin super black belt master man. I must say it was empowering. I felt like Uma Thurman getting sweet sweet revenge. It's a relative paradox- the ancient art of releasing fury so gracefully. I'm seriously considering becoming a student. If only I could finance both yoga and kung fu. I mean, I have the rest of my life to be a yoga master and/or a kung fu master (grand master even) but which comes first? I'm torn like the two of swords tarot card. Well, the library's closing so I'll have to meditate on it solo.
PAz.

To gym or not to gym...

I got in my car to go to the gym to cop a membership. Instead I wound up at the local public library. I feel pressured to join by the part of me that wants to trade 60$ a month to reach my ultimate fitness goals but a simple fact remains. I don't like the gym. The people remind me of a bunch of hamsters on wheels. It smells like a teenage locker. I get caught up checking everybody out and judging myself. Time stands still while I try to mentally sing along on ipod to Fabolus's album Ghetto fabolus. He cleverly raps "I'll put shells in your stomach like you ate pasta for lunch" while I run for what seems like eternity only to burn 150 calories. As if thats not bad enough, the ipod invariably dies. I thought to myself...at least you could meet some hot guys there. Then I realized that these said hot guys probably like being at the gym. Or even worse, hate it but go out of necessity to keep up the girlish figure. A hamster. Do I want to date a hamster??? Going out with a gym guy is borderline beastiality.

I'd prefer the smarty pants sitting across from me working out math equations.

Seriously, I've decided that the only way I will ever stick to some sort of workout is if I actually like it. Yoga I can get down with. However, at 20 bones per class on average in the good old CT, I'm going to need some supplemental group recreational activities. Wish me luck finding something fun.
Badger out.

My momma didn't raise no fool

My mom asked about you today. I was too embarrassed to tell her the truth, which was that you wanted to exercise your right to personal freedom more than endure a perceptible relationship with me. Instead, I shrugged and gave the nonchalant 5 word explanation, "I got bored of him." This is partially true. She wasn't too broken up over it. She just asked if I had met anyone else yet. She never thought you were my type. Mike said, "You always play with your toys for 2 hours and then leave them on the living room floor." I'll add mine to the list of broken hearts you've collected. ouch. Love has a brilliant, intelligent, intangible design. I've put a moratorium on trying to nourish the spark that kept our soul ties entwined. Narrowing the focus of my energy on resuscitating the part of me that knew better all along. For Valentine's day, I'll meditate on my intuition. Love to all.

Ra Ma Da Sa.

Facebook epiphany

It's a lazy Saturday morning after a night of swallowing a mixture of last weekend's hangover gatorade cleverly mixed with the last of the booze in the house (we had to get rid of it, we're moving). Hangin out in my pyjamas with a liter of Evian and my iphone because I'm not ready to leave bed but I'm also not having delirium tremens so I need some sort of stimulation. I turn to facebook during these circumstances. I want to see what everyone else thats not in my bed is doing. I realize that the facebook status update is the new AIM away message. This is just like college. What are all my friends doing? Are they really doing what it says they are doing? Are people just writing clever things so other people will comment? I think the amount of facebook love you get is directly proportional to the amount of facebook love you give. A lesson in Karma. And whats up with the people that refuse to get facebook anyway? They must be the tent city (Uconn alumni will appreciate that reference) of the world. Too cool for school. Go Huskies.

Impala holla

Nomads love Craigslist

The age old dilemma of a nomadic spirit is what to do with your aquired personal assetts once you decide to implement your nomadic tactics once again. The answer is craigslist. You can hawk and hustle the whole shebang. She bangs. Amanda even tried to sell Tyrone on craigslist. Someone reported her. Any good nomad knows you cant collect animals on your travels when you're a vagabond migrant pilgrim. I earned 45$ today in 20 minutes. That's more than I could procure hourly from saving the world's offspring from environmental toxins and pop-tarts.

On high fructose corn syrup...

So now there's this article saying that there's mercury in high fructose corn syrup. FUCK. Do you know how many fruit roll ups I've eaten in my lifetime?? Probably more than there are kids with autism. They're so tasty. Can't stop won't stop. I'll need the hyperactivity from both the Red 40 and the metals when I take my bike trip around the country. I will also bring cashews, fudgecicles, cafecitos, and my iphone; although it will be difficult to charge from the campsites. I'm a smart girl, I'll figure it out.

Seriously, though, Stop eating HFCS. I'm not being paranoid that shit was gnar before we knew it had metals in it.

A letter to my father.

Dad,
I know you're in a neuro rehab and you may never read or understand what I want to explain to you but it helps to get it out of my head so here goes...

I didn't realize it was February until just now. From my bed-hovel-cocoon, fighting my epic hangover was useless. I finally threw up my mental white flag and called it. I fucking surrender to my deoxyribonucleic acid (9th grade science class makes me feel smart). The ancestral exigency that leaves me conclusively supine and unarmed against the rogue malignant spirit. I don't mean to blame DNA entirely, I am not a hapless victim; That is not the point of my story. What I mean to say is that I get it. The pain lives inside of me too. At present it has rendered you unable to care for yourself or carry a cohesive conversation. That hurts. I'll be home soon. Done with the emo bullshit but over the poisoning on the real. I'm praying for you.

Love,

S.