Posts

St. Patrick's Day

Dear Dad, I guess I now have an excuse to really go and get trashed on St. Patrick's Day if I want to. It used to be because we thought that we were of some Irish descent, so I could legitimately celebrate the day while simultaneously fucking with people's minds. (Sidebar: I know you don't like cursing, and you thought that it showed a lack of intelligence. Meanwhile, studies have shown that people who curse are actually smarter. You've now probably seen just how much I drop the F-bomb on a regular basis. I mean, I'm a Jersey girl. Mom curses a lot too when we talk to each other. You know we've earned it, and you know why.) Now, I can use St. Patrick's Day as a preparation for the day after. March 18th. Your birthday. Tomorrow you would have turned 68 years old. On one hand, it feels legitimately old, but it also feels incredibly young. Like I said in my last letter, this is another stop on the temporal stations of the cross. I cried on the morning...
Dear Dad, Who knows why I'm putting this in my ancient blog? Why I'm posting it to the internet. Shouting into the void and simultaneously preserving this forever. I guess it's the easiest way to get my thoughts down. Typing can be easier than writing, and it helps me get the words out faster without editing myself. I think about you every day, and I feel like I have more questions than answers, Something moved me to fire up the blog and write, so here I am. It's been a little over seven months since you've been gone. Thinking about the days and months and years leading up to that point feel like a temporal version of the Stations of the Cross. I don't know where the Beginning of the End actually sits in that timeline, but Christmas feels like a good starting point. The last Christmas that we all spent together. Did the tree fall down at all that year? If it didn't, was it a sign that we missed? My birthday dinner in Newark: Mom usually covers the check,...
Ha. HA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Omg, that was hilarious. HILARIOUS! Did you read that last post? Jesus TF Christ. So I found those things that I was worried I would definitely find. Found a sad, pathetic dude who lied - LIED - about his job. Lived in a condo under his mama's name that I'm pretty sure was retirement housing. Claimed he was going to school...maybe he was...but failed a pop quiz. Then he used said class as an excuse to get out of coming to Rutgers Christmas, then said he would go, then LIED about why he was two hours late, then was the first one to leave and took his bottle of Ciroc (that I purchased, mind you) with him. Gawd. The good news is that I'm single. I still have the best job ever. Got promoted to manager in five months. Built a kick-ass team. Merger announcement dropped last October. Got serious about grad school, applied to Penn State. Got accepted. Had panic attack. My right-hand man at work is messing up and will probably ge...

And so it was...

The change was good! Landed that job that I mentioned in the last post. Nailed it. Best job of my life! But there's other changes too. I think I have a boyfriend. Well, I know I have a boyfriend. I just haven't been able to say it yet. Hell, we're not even Facebook friends yet. (Friend request pending...he's not on there a lot...but I know he's going to approve it.) You know how every time you meet someone, you say that things are different this time, and it's going to be different...but it ends up ending the same way? (Obviously it ends the same way...because it ends.) I know this time is totally different. We met differently. We had a real first date. And then a real second date. Then I got so freaked out that I almost bolted...almost shut the entire thing down in fear of getting emotionally destroyed again. I'm glad I didn't. Things are so...equal. Similar upbringing, shared goals and philosophies, equal footing on terms of marriage (no prev...

A change gonna come...

...because it needs to. This time, for the first time in a while, it's my job situation that needs to change. I finally made the decision to start looking for a new job earlier this year. The writing had been on the wall for a while, and a recruiter just happened to contact me after I had just been denied funding for a Master's certificate program at Rutgers. So now I've been interviewing and such for four months, and I feel like I'm on the verge of something big. At least I hope that's what I'm feeling. It could be pre-interview jitters. It could be that overall sense of a disturbance in the force. Maybe it's that melancholy I feel after a particularly hard night of drinking. Whatever it is, change is in the air, and I hope it's for the better. I'm ready for change. I'm not getting out of my apartment any time soon. Sorority life kinda swallowed me up this winter, and I'm disconnecting from that pretty soon to take a break. My best f...

Surviving the "smug marrieds"

Today I had an experience that I thought only happened on tv shows or in bad rom-coms. Ok, it wasn't too too bad, but it was still annoying. So I'm at a barbecue at a friend of a friend's house. The majority of the people there were married and/or had kids, but I was holding my own and manning my cooler of jello shots. No big deal. Then a new person arrives, a dude, and the hostess of the party was immediately all like, "Hey, by the way, he's single. And a dentist! Eh?" ::raised eyebrows in that wink-wink-nudge-nudge kinda way:: sigh. But I'm not going to be openly bitchy to the guy...we make small talk or whatever. He's not my type. Granted I don't really have a "type" anymore, but if I did, I would really have been all that interested. Dude leaves the party an hour or two later to do some things and says he'll be back. Hostess later remarks, "Yeah, come to think of it, he's got a lot of baggage. He's got kids and ...

Still agitated...

...so I'm going to keep writing. Maybe I'll do this every day till I figure it out. Maybe I'll look at all of this tomorrow and say, "Well, fuck that," and find something else to go and do. I remembered on my way home from work that I don't have any food in my house, which means that at some point this evening I'll have to get back up from this couch and over to the grocery store on the opposite side of town if I plan on anything that resembles dinner. It's actually pretty funny how I think that buying stuff from the grocery store is somehow more responsible or healthier than take out every night, but it really isn't because I've recently refused to cook anything. I don't have a dishwasher in my apartment, which means that every single pot, pan, dish, and utensil has to be washed by hand - my hands - at some point in the immediate but often distant future. I think it's a miracle that I've lived here for almost a year and a half ...