The smoking ban is literally killing people. In the words of the slain bouncer's family: "If you go to Sodom and Gomorrah, you're going to find people smoking there. This is what bars are."

Saturday night I entered a bar for the first time since the smoking ban. The bars felt cleaner, the air felt less stagnant. It may have just been the nice weather and doors opened to the street. It also may have been the fans and air-circulators that seemed to be working overtime everywhere. A bar in the area called "Smoke" had people outside with cigarettes in painful irnoy. One of the Morningside Heights area old men hangouts overlooked the cigarettes Bess and I held under the tables as we smoked. However, instead of neatly stamping out the ends to our cigarettes in dusty ashtrays, we were forced to throw them to our feet and mush them under our heels, leaving piles of butts for the cleaning people to sweep.

I always assumed the obvious way out of this smoking situation would be to allow your workers to own fractional percentage of a bar. However, in reading the guidelines for such bars, it appears as if there can only be 3 principal owners to a bar and only principal owners (25% or more ownership) may be working to allow for people to smoke. Back to the drawing board. I feel like the cayote trying to catch the roadrunner with hackneyed Acme products.

Relationships are trying things. Forgiveness is primarily based on the word give and giving is a lot like losing something you didn't know you had until you are willing to accept an appology. What was fully intended to be a good day together instead was a literal escalating headache until the screaming child at the supermarket made me pause to avoid screaming back. Even after sweet words, a fish dinner and a confession that Six Feet Under is a good show, I still wound up getting up shortly after he fell asleep, stealing the covers and sleeping on the couch. In the darkness and quiet of halfsleep, forgiveness feels primarily to be "for" and I return to bed with the blanket. And in the morning, driving down an interstate and finishing each other's sentences, it doesn't seem to matter what forgiveness is or what was forgiven right then in traffic full of smiles and jokes with the windows cracked to fresh morning air.

Monday, April 14, 2003

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Proof that my boyfriend is not in the mafia:
We found that real mafiosi are more interested in power and being in command than sex.
I am not sure of the "throwing up in your mouth" degree of that statement and hope that it was funny and not nauseating.

In other news: The army is now banned from displaying the American flag for fear that we might be seen as "conquerers" rather than "liberators". However, Iraqis seen kissing American flags, groups of children waving American flags and any other instances of the conquered, I mean liberated, and the American flag will be pimped out across all media outlets. Just as long as it actually the conquered / liberated dealing with the American flag.

And my final thoughts on the news: The fundamental question: Can the U.S. turn a harrowing dictatorship into a democracy as well as it has executed the war? No. Unless you consider a democracy a form of government which yields to all American interest for fear that an unagreeable "democracy" will lead to whatever ruling party being called the new Hussein.

I'm really bitter about the news today.

Friday, April 11, 2003

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Today, I was impressed with the amount of errands I was able to run during lunch. Today, I thanked the gods for holding back on the rain as I went around mid-town doing those tedious but necessary tasks of adulthood. Today, I sent in my intent to attend form. Adulthood is sometimes sweet and enjoyable. Sometimes. When it isn't sickening and stressful.

And last night I finished sewing together the 99 piece granny square afghan I began making for my older sister over 2 years ago. A simple border to square out the edges is all that is needed in something I've said might be a birthday, Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's, Thanksgiving and numerous other holiday blanket. My sister once told me "you better not think of giving me that blanket as my bridal shower gift." Because she is that materialistic and honestly does expect me to buy her something I cannot afford. Part of me wants to hold onto the completed blanket until the shower in a few months and not go in on whatever big gift her "friends" in the bridal party have decided we are getting her. The other, stronger, part of me is excited that it will most probably be an Easter gift and the 99 squares sew into one huge rectangle to keep bodies warm while napping will finally be out of my hands.

My favorite thing to try each day is this map of Northern Africa and the Middle East. I try to get each country right on the first try. I'm still working on getting the countries with no consonants that used to part of the USSR correct. The rest of the area? got that down.
Friday, April 11, 2003

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Your horoscope this week consists of the words of poet Mary Oliver, whose "White Pine" describes an experience analogous to one you'll soon have: "I have read that, in Africa, when the body of an antelope, which all its life ate only leaves and grass and drank nothing but wild water, is first opened, the fragrance is almost too sweet, too delicate, too beautiful to be borne. It is a moment which hunters must pass through carefully, with concentrated and even religious attention, if they are to reach the other side, and go on with their individual lives."

Really, that pretty much sums it up. Everything is different. Everything has changed. Two years living in Brooklyn and it is soon to end for all the better. There is only one thing that I have lost in the past 3 months I would like back, but I suppose there is a price to pay. And what I lost was never as good in reality as it was in theory. The reality of where I am going now and what I have now is more than I could have expected.

The only problem is when do you share your secrets? When do you reveal those things that you know has made you love things and hate things in the way you do. Do you have to reveal them at all?
Thursday, April 10, 2003

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I just wrote an witty post. I deleted this well-crafted and witty post. I did not delete embarassing bits and pieces I am known to do. I did something stupid and lost it instead. In summation:
1) Ice is falling from the Empire State Building again. Several of the old ladies waiting for the cross-town bus began popping pills and using inhalers shortly after the huge piece shattered inches away from their walkers and shopping carts. It was very loud and pretty startling for all in the general vicinity. The suit who apparently works in the area made it his job to reassuringly repeat: It's from the Empire State, It's from the Empire State. As if that would calm the ladies who could not yet see the bus and felt themselves to be standing in the line of fire until one came.

2) Yesterday morning I watched a cat walk across the roof of the garden center while waiting for my tea water to boil. It had to break the thin layer of ice, causing it to slink its back downward and take unusually large steps to cut back on the number of steps it had to take. Every now and again it would let out a little meow and the ice cut its paw.

3) This winter is also responsible for the death of hundreds of Bess's new neighbors: the fish of Morningside Park.

4) In the typical twist of fate, and all other karmic actions I try to make. . . I had picked Syracuse to go very far in the office's NCAA basketball pool. I picked them to go to the finals with the very thought in mind that it was karmic gesture that may have helped me get money from that school. I did not think they'd win it all, even though they did. I did not think that Syracuse would completely shaft me and offer no money, even though they did. If I had picked them to go all the way, I would have won the office pool. I wonder if my aide decision would have been different.
Wednesday, April 9, 2003

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Today I am supposedly "out of the office" but I am obviously not. After a brief morning visit to a certain school located in the Village area of Manhattan, I made my graduate decision and decided to skip out on the rest of the planned activities. I really don't think that anyone cares about what academic specifics led to this decision, except for, of course, myself. But one of the over-whelming feelings I had was that I do not want to be in the city any more. Well, not exactly, but kind of, yes.

This is not the city that I fell in love with. This is not the place I want to be. Not only has it changed but I have changed. This love affair of concrete and underground trains no longer works for me. I know it’s not fair to come to these conclusions after the longest winter in decades, after months of not being able to fully enjoy and embrace what the city offers me. But it wasn’t just the winter that has worn me. I am worn from too many Starbucks and every new piece of construction seeming to be high-rise luxury something or another. I am worn from trying to count how many times I’ve crossed 6th Avenue at 8th Street in my life and the way my ears pop every time the train goes under the East River. I have little tolerance for men standing around with machine guns as I turn the corner ruining whatever happy thoughts were occupying my mind. I fear ever entering a bar now that I cannot smoke a cigarette at will but have indeed requested free nicotine patches (but am not sure if I will use them).

I’m going to New Jersey, the place I have always felt myself to be prisoner. It is where I was forced to grow up. I was where I had to move after coming home penniless. It was where I had to work and stay for 2 years after college because I lost everything in a fire and then needed to save up to move out. It never was where I chose to be. Except for now there is a small and demanding graduate program that I want to go to. There are miles and miles of interstates and routes that I will manage to navigate. There are issues of suburban sprawl and decentralized cities to investigate.

This morning, there was this certain pretension in the air, a certain tone of “well, we are in New York” that got directly under my skin. As if the geography instantly made up for the lack of a centralized building for the program, the generous but low-level of funding, and the over-whelming student population. As if the geography was one of the major virtues of the program. What had attracted me to the city in the first place was nudging me further away.

I know that I will wake some time in the Fall, delirious from nightmares about strip malls and desperate for miles upon miles of contiguous sidewalks. I will be able to live a dual life after my lease expires as I plan to continue working through the summer, staying, at least for the time being, with my parents and commuting into the city. I will not move too far from the city, so I can always satisfy the need to submerge myself in a crowd while working and learning in a much smaller place.

Tuesday, April 8, 2003

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Wednesday I had dinner with his mother again. I told her about the very bad thing he did when he met my parents: called me by his ex-girlfriend's name. He is being relentlessly and rightfully teased for this by nearly everybody at nearly every chance possible. After dinner, we went to my parents and played pool. Rather, he and my father played pool while my mother and I sat in the kitchen and talked about whatever it is that women talk about quietly and civilly in kitchens while boys play games, shout and blast music.

Thursday I visited the grad program in the lead because of the great aide package I'm being offered. They loved me there, they were practically waiting to roll out the red carpet. This was very encouraging. The visit helped rather than further confused by giving me massive amounts of information.

Friday I worked out while watching Maury, where the guest was a 218 pound 5 year old. I felt excessively fit and used the hand weights while bicycling. I spent the afternoon discussing crafts and then buying wine. Between Marie (who wasn't really drinking), her ex and my father, 4 bottles of wine were emptied in under 3 hours. When Marie dropped me off at the boy's place, I promptly fell asleep. I actually think I may have been mid-sentence when my body shut down; the massive amount of wine was most probably responsible.

Saturday I had every intention of returning to the city, to my apartment emptied of freak-dork-boy roommate, to a bit of peace. Instead, I was struck with a terrible bout of nausea and my mother insisted I wait a few hours before returning. A few hours turned into an impromptu dinner with the sister and fiance, family and boyfriend. A few hours turned into my older sister force-feeding her fiance and my boy drinks while she slurred her words, drunk on mugs full of Baileys. The miscalling of names the week before was mentioned many times, enough times to make him cringe, enough times to make it not hurt me any more. A few hours turned into not falling asleep until 4 am.

Sunday, I was worn down, tired, and without a bit of energy. I napped frequently and only managed to fetch clothes appropriate for this April snow storm we are having and bake a few batches of cookies.
Monday, April 7, 2003

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Even though it's now Wednesday and this story took place on Saturday, I'll share it anyhow because timeliness really shouldn't matter to my voyueristic friends. Saturday my boyfriend met my parents. I was in an unexpected situation and had to return to Brooklyn to shower and change clothes early in the morning. I then had to buy vegetables, beer and something else that I can't recall because at the time I felt like I was running around with my head chopped off. I told him that I should be back at my parents house at 5. For whatever reason, he took that to mean he should show up at 4.

From reports from reliable sources such as my younger sister and mother, he was excessively nervous when he came in the house. The younger sister said he was calm until the mother and father walked into the room. Then he became nervous. His obvious level of nervousness was apparent for a good part of the evening.

I eventually showed up wet from rain and running in and out of 1,000 diffrent shops. I was also over-tired. I was hoping to catch a quick nap before he was to arrive, but only to see his car in the driveway, which also meant i couldn't pull into the garage. He told his standard jokes, he tried to be nice, he tried to make an impression. He was being nice. And drinking. Him and my father were drinking like it was a frat party. Maybe not that badly but it was agreed by all that I would drive home at the end of the evening. "Did I drink too much?" he asked my mother. "Oh, don't worry. When my husband met my father he drank 18 Manhattans."
Notice how my mother compares my boyfriend to her spouse?

I'm not sure if the entire situation made me like him more or made me like him less. I've never taken a boy home before. I've never shared what I do with my family (or rather whom I'm doing or whom I'm boinging). What it did tell me was my parents now think we've entered a new state in our relationship of being very serious and close. However, I just did this so they would lay off me for a while about not knowing who this boy was.

Tonight, however, we're having dinner with his mother again. "So she can cook for you this time." I don't know how much more of spending most of our time together in the company of family I can stand.
Wednesday, April 2, 2003

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I believe that April's Fools is a dangerous day. Unless you do obviously dumb things like wear a rubber hand so that when someone shakes your hand it falls off. But all else is too dangerous to touch. You can bring bad luck upon yourself if you say the wrong thing, plan the wrong joke. For example, do not say that you didn't get funding for grad school. Because maybe then you won't. Trust me, it happened in 1999. Don't say you're eloping, pregnant, fired or any other shocker elsewise you want to wish it upon yourself. I am even going to say that you shouldn't call your parents and tell them you want to get checked into rehab for a sharpie marker addiction because two weeks later, you'll find yourself ordering cases from Staples. Faking a car accident, affair with a Senator, sexually transmitted disease or any other similar prank should not be done. It doesn't leve very little to do today.

I am greatly relieved when I received a call from the last remaining school to inform me of financial aide. Since the April's Fools Finacial Aide Fiasco of 1999, I believed this day to be cursed and did not want the clock to strike midnight on March 31 without knowing the aide situation from all respective schools. I got a very nice offer, and now must consider and decide. But I am relieved to have gotten the call before April's Fools as I was sure something horrible was going to happen if I did not.

p.s. It's snowing right now. In April. God's mad at Americans for killing Iraqis.
Tuesday, April 1, 2003

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Yippie! My roommate plans on moving out this weekend. He'll be paying rent for two months for a place he isn't even going to be living in. Although I find this to be excessively dumb, I do not regret that he is doing this. The apartment will be mine. All mine. Conrad will have his very own bedroom.

Since early September, he became a very annoying person to live with. Something as simple as dividing the utilities became a major hassle involving me creating an entire system for reimbursement. He was cheap, never cleaned and only managed to drive me up the wall and hope that it wasn't him opening the downstairs door. I can imagine never seeing him again in my life.

The only thing is that now I could technically leave early. I could move elsewhere and save money if I could. But I cannot move with my parents. They are very nice people, but horrible to live with. I've done my share of living with them as adults and never plan on doing it again. I cannot move with my boyfriend because (a) I haven't even known him for 3 months and (b) I don't like his apartment as it does not have enough space and sun and requires I own a car.

Maybe I should first decide what it is that I am doing with the next two years of my life and what program I will pick, where I will be and so forth. Being able to save money would help with all the money I'll shortly need.
Monday, March 31, 2003

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This weekend, the boyfriend is going to meet the parents. My parents should like him if only for the fact that his is closer to my age than theirs, college educated, white, and from New Jersey. My older sister will miss the occasion as she has previous plans to be in Pennslytucky. I must say that I do not regret that she is not going to be in attendance as her Bridezilla-like behavior of late scares me. I jokingly said that we were gong to get married and her vicious response was [in summary format]:

"You can't get married. Not like mom and dad could afford it any time soon after my wedding. Anyhow, you haven't known him long enough. You don't know him like I know [my fiance]. In the past three years, we've been through more things than couples go through in a lifetime. Plus you want to go to graduate school and you shouldn't throw that away. Don't be stupid like mom and dad were, they shouldn't have married so young, they ruined their lives. How dumb to get married just because they got pregnant. They won't divorce because dad is too afraid and mom can't be bothered."

So given the selfish-Bridezilla glasses she is looking at the world through these days, I'm happy she is busy. He has a better chance hitting it off with my parents than with my sister anyhow.
Friday, March 28, 2003

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Nearly three years ago I decided that humans needed bar codes. Since then I have seen people with bar code hats, bar code t-shirts. All the bar codes on these items of mass-produced clothing are, however, the same. We need individual bar codes. And now, without the depth I think human bar-coding deserves, you can get one.

Added Cheney: "I can't tell you how much easier it is to achieve consensus when you don't have to worry about dissent."

I know I shouldn't turn on the television in the morning. I know that when I do, I should not stray past metro traffic and weather station. But FOX was doing the weather so I watched and then kept it on as I finished getting ready. I walked into the living room to shut off the television and there was constant coverage of the Williamsburg Bridge. It was closed to traffic because of some men who left packages. I got a little nervous and wondered if I should wait until everything was fine instead of heading into a potentially dangerous situation.

In the end, we did what we were supposed to do," Bloomberg said. "Operation Atlas has been implemented. It works. We are on top of things. It's also true you shouldn't be going on the Williamsburg Bridge, breaking into some place you shouldn't be, and drinking. How stupid can you be?"

The sad part is that cops couldn't tell the difference between a bunch of drunken idiots and a possible terrorist threat. Operation Atlas does not work when a major inlet into the city is shut down for hours because there were drunks on a bridge. I supposed that they might have had just cause. And it's all good they were checking things out. But if two guys where sitting up in the cables of the bridge, empty 30 oz. cans of Bud Lite scattered about at 8:15 am, would I call in the bomb-sniffing dogs? Alas, I am not a cop, the mayor or any of the other people who are intrusted with their abilities to make judgement calls that effect us all.

In a different context, what toll might there be on the city's jails? Inmates and guards will also be forbidden to smoke. Will tensions rise in places where the atmosphere is already laid-forward?"

Mr. Mayor, you've gone to far. For the past few months I have been outraged that I would not be allowed to smoke in bars after this coming Monday. But now, when arrested for "peace protesting" I will not be able to roll myself Drum while waiting for bail? When thrown in the slammer for public drunkeness because I had to go outside to have a cigarette, I will not be able to have a smoke while you guys are waiting for me to "sleep it off". This frigging sucks.

Friday, March 28, 2003

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Why Are U.S. Troops Wearing Dark-Green Camouflage?

"How could we shock or awe the Iraqis if they couldn't see us? In dessert camouflage, the troops would be virtually invisible" said President Bush. "I knew I was going to be sending these men over and I wanted them to stand out, just like the little green army men I play with in the sandbox. They don't sell tan army men, do they? No. Man, I wish I could make sandstorms in my sandbox without it getting in my eyes. Then it would be more authentic. I hate sand in my eyes."
Thursday, March 27, 2003

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Black Americans are Clearly 1000 Times Smarter than Whites

78 percent of white respondents to the poll said they approved of how Mr. Bush was handling the situation, while just 37 percent of blacks agreed with that position. At the same time, 59 percent of blacks said they disapproved of the president's handling of the war, while only 17 percent of whites said the same thing.

It may just be that people in the areas of the country that think (read: costal states) disapprove with Bush and most black people live in these areas. White people against Bush are unfortunately clustered with the massive white middle and therefore it appears as if most white people are honestly that stupid.

Freedom of the Press:
Does not apply to Arabs

Expelling reporters for an Arab network during a war that is in part about exporting American freedoms to Iraq. Punishing Al Jazeera, which is widely recognized as one of the most influential news organizations in the Arab world — where the United States is struggling to influence public opinion.

Al-Jazeera has been banned from the NY Stock Exchange (NYSE) floor under the grounds that it was getting too crowded. NYSE decided that getting rid of the Al-Jazeera reported, and only the Al-Jazeera reporter, would definitely alleviate the crowding. This happened the same day the Arabic network showed images of US POWs. I can't discuss this issue any further than that. Draw your own colclusions. But it surely won't be the leading news story tonight on any channel.

While getting out of bed this morning, removing the arm wrapped over my shoulder, I accidentally punched my own nose. More like I stabbed my nose with my thumb. Thumbnail. I now have a scratch on my nose. Please don't confuse that with the red-spot from a recent zit under my nose. The old zit is round, scratch long and thin. It's a scratch, I swear! I believe it's a punishment for vanity and trying to top biting my thumbnail.
Thursday, March 27, 2003

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Yesterday night I learned some things. I learned some important things that may or may not have huge effects on my life depending on what thing is being referred to. I am not sure if I should list them in the order I learned them, in the order of importance or narrate how they were revealed to me.

I can make Angel cry still. I can make him happy by giving him only a stuffed pony for his birthday.

I can make Jersey boy bonkers by not calling him because he wonders then where I am and am I okay. It's nice to know that other people get that fear other than me. It's nice to know that his mind wanders to infinite possibilities of betrayal and injury just because my cell phone battery had died. It's also scary to know that the last time I felt that way, I was obsessed and I take this behavior to be a symptom.

As per the desires of everyone I know in the metro area, I will not be attending Syracuse. They gave me not even a penny, not even a little award. Nothing at all at nearly 40,000 for the year means I really can't afford to put myself that far into debt knowing what the salary-return-rate on my degree is approximately expected to be. I blame this on the petition that being circulated behind my back and was accidentally forwarded to me. It told the financial award committee that I would go completely "shining"/insane on them if removed from the NYC metro area and relocated to an outpost of civilization, if only for a year.

My new shoes rock. My new shoes could carry me from here to California. I am in love with my new shoes.

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

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I nearly forgot where I worked today. I nearly forgot what it is that I do when I emerge from the train station. Do I walk east or west? Am I lost? 4 day weekends make a job that I no longer love easier to deal with.

I have purged unneeded material things, unused products, useless back-copies of bills and statements. I have organized what there is that I want to keep and found more room in my life.

In the past 5 days, I have spent more money than I can afford and drank morethan is advisable. I don't recall what happened to each withdrawl from one day to the next, but money would enter my wallet and shortly after be spent. I do not regret spending money, I am just shocked by the time frame in which is was spent. I bought new shoes that fit me wonderfully, are "office acceptable" and look like a topographical map on the bottom. I actually set out to buy shoes and did so. I gave myself one store and said "buy shoes" because I needed them. This purchase was not decadent or indulgent like cigarettes and vitamin water, but badly needed so that my feet could comfortably carry me from Point A to Point B given the distance between the two points as a range of 1 to 10 miles.

I volunteered to make dinner and bought the groceries and spent a few hours prepping. When the boy came back from a family gathering, I asked for a bottle of wine. He went and bought me one which I drank over the course of the evening. While water was boiling and fish was baking, I sat next to him and laughed things on the television.
(highlight below if you want to throw up in your mouth)

"I always said I would never get whipped. I would never be one of those guys who get whipped. But then you look up from peeling a potato and ask for wine and I go right back out to get it. It's the start of it, getting whipped."

I have no future, I have no known destination. I am just waiting to hear, wanting to know, dying to decide. I have templates made of pluses and minuses. I have ideas brewing. But I cannot make a decision until the mail has been received and everything can be spread out and decided upon. Until then, I'll be up to no good.
Monday, March 24, 2003

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