Movin' on up!

Moving day tomorrow. New place awaits. Awesome new landlord who we think is the saint of Brooklyn. Refinished hardwood floors with the original dark walnut inlaid borders. Original 1927 stained glass windows. Refurbished iron switch plates. I'll have a bedroom and a sewing studio - 2 separate rooms! My very own studio. I'm beside myself.

I'm picking the truck up tomorrow morning. Thank goodness we have such wonderful friends who are helping us move. They're incredible and we're lucky chicks. I'm going to try not to break my back. I'll check back in in a few days. And I promise - posts will resume with some regularity once we're settled in our new digs. (consider this a warning)

Humor Me

I can't help it, methinks we're the cutest things this side of the atmosphere. It does not get much cuter than Ms. Kristiepants right down there, folks. C-u-t-e.

See, What did I tell you?

Be a beacon, how hard can that be?

Everyone needs hope. It's one of the intangibles neccessary in order to function as a person. Love, spiritual growth, ideals, hope... what would life be without these things? I'd say beyond boring, unfulfilling, flat - hopeless. Someone sent this postcard to Frank @ Post Secret this week and it touched me, made me think, stopped me in my tracks for a moment.

Isn't that what every good piece of art does? Stops you in your tracks? In conversation with someone dear to me recently the mark of great music came up. What is the mark of a really great song? We figured it's got to have something to do with making the listener take pause. Halting their mind and their swirling thoughts for a brief minute - long enough to perhaps spark a string of different thoughts, new ideas, fresh perspectives. I think that's the mark of good art in any form, whether that be a song, a painting, a handmade dress, even a postcard. Sometimes I need to take a break from my own head, my own life, my own present and take a short jaunt to somewhere beautiful or painful or different.

This postcard did that for me today. It transported me out of myself and into a place that reminded me that hope really does spring eternal. This weekend proved that to me many times over, this was just the icing on the cake. Mmm, icing.

Riffs and no more regrets

This is what I want to play. It's a Les Paul Vixen (yes, Vixen - that is one sexy word). This one happens to be carribean blue, but it also comes in coral - that one will be mine at some point. I've wanted to learn how to play guitar for years. Since my mom put on a B.B. King record when I was a kid I was hooked. Problem is, I never actually learned. It's always been this nagging thing I kept saying I'd do someday. Someday I'd learn how to play. One year I actually got a cheap little acoustic. I got so frustrated with my fingers not wrapping around the neck they way they should that I gave up, folded, threw in the pick. I came home a few days later and my brother was sitting in the living room... playing my guitar. He was 14. He had taught himself while I was at work. And he was good.

Always wanting to learn, but never putting forth the effort is one of those stupid things we all do from time to time. We want to do all sorts of things that we put off or sweep under the rug - we tell ourselves that maybe we didn't want them so badly in the first place. We convince ourselves that there are better things to do with our time. The things we always wanted become the things we never did. I don't want any more never-dids. None of those in this life. Not enough room. I'm clearing a path for the good stuff. The go-get-'em-tiger kind of stuff. It feels great to clear the space. Dust the good stuff off, see how it shines when you pay it just a small bit of attention. I'm going to add to that collection of shiny, good stuff.

I'm going to learn how to play that damn guitar of it kills me. Goodbye fingernails, goodbye soft skin. Hello hangnails and callouses. I can't wait! Go get 'em tiger.

Turn and face the strange, ch-ch-changes...

Bowie was onto something.

Life isn't static, it doesn't sit and wait for you to make a move, it doesn't even wait for you to be prepared for a change. It just changes. It shifts, it tosses you the ball without making sure you're looking.

This isn't always a bad thing. In fact, sometimes life will throw you for the most delicious loop and open your eyes to things you didn't even know were there. Sometimes you turn around just at the right moment with your arms out and catch the ball perfectly.

This week is going to be a great one. Interview tomorrow, another later on in the week, and to top it all off Kristie is coming to NYC on Friday and we're going to meet Colin. I think I might get to hang out with l.britt again this week, too. Yay!

Shifting sands

There has been a karmic shift in my universe, ladies and gents. A number of little ones and another rather large and indefinable one.

I've got an interview on Monday. Also on Monday I'll hear from another firm about scheduling an interview. When it rains...

I'm here. I promise.

I haven't fallen off the face of the earth or anything. It's been a strange few days. Mostly wonderful strange, not the bad kind (thank goodness - maybe it's good Passover vibes or something). It's 11PM and I'm going to catch up on some much needed sleep. It's amazing how well I can function on a combined 7 hours sleep in a 48 hour period. Remarkable, really. Lots of things have been remarkable the past few days. I'll be back soon and write something witty about how much someone has pissed me off or been rude, don't you worry. But for now I'm off to bed. My nice, warm bed. Mmm, sleeeeeepy time...

I had to have committed a big booboo

The problem is, I can't seem to figure out what it might have been. I think I'm a generally good person. I'm decent, I have a brain, I don't kick children. I make room for other people on the sidewalk, I don't carry a golf umbrella in the city, I move to the side to let people into the subway car. All of that aside, I had to have done something shitty to be having this kind of month. Karma you know, it all comes back. Take a look at L. Britt for proof of that (but hers is positive proof, not my usual bitch and moan routine).

I'm fully aware that I still have it pretty darn good. I'm an American. I have a roof over my head (at least for the next 2 & 1/2 weeks... oh dear lord help me from losing my mind over this apartment search). I have wonderful friends and family. But you know what? None of that stops me from feeling miserable lately. I know I just need to snap out of it. Easier said than done. Things are getting me down and I'm allowing them to do so. I'm annoyed with myself for that.

I took this picture out the subway window on Saturday. See how it's all nasty and grey and rainy and gross and depressing? It's beyond appropriate. Poor, poor me. Let's all have a pity party for Melissa. I hate feeling pathetic - so why can't I just stop? Convince myself everything will be fine and life is grand and full of light?

Being sad es no bueno

I'm sad. I am. Sad is exactly how to describe me today. Here's the nutshell version of my day:

• I spent 8 hours apartment hunting with S and saw one place we liked.
  
• Said place is way the hell out in Brooklyn and the train line it's on doesn't run express after 8PM or at all on weekends. We'd be an hour outside Manhattan. No go. Back to square one.
  
• The man was offered a fantastic job today.
  
• Said job is in Miami. It pays very well, it's work that he loves, with an agency that will open doors for him for years to come, he can transfer to the NYC office in about 8 months. He's taking it.
  
• We'll be apart another 8 months... at least.
  
• Apartment search has been revised for just the girls & me.
  
• I've gotten no calls about any of the resumes I've sent in the past month.
  

I just want to catch a break. I want to get to the point where things are going well, truly well, and the floor doesn't give way below me.

Is it April 5th? I thought so.

Apparently Mother Nature got a case of the pranks and just for kicks decided to shower all of NYC with a brief blizzard this afternoon. No f-ing joke, man. I was out apartment hunting with the girls in the bowels of Brooklyn and all of a sudden it was snowing. Really, it happened just like that. One minute, no snow. Next minute, lots and lots of the white stuff. I was driving (haven't done that in ages) and it was a veritable white-out. For those of you who haven't been privy to the wonders of a snowy clime, a white-out is like a black-out, but it's white and well, it's because of snow not a lack of electricity. Crazy stuff.

It's gorgeous, it's fun, ooh la la it's snowing! Yeah, that lasted for about 20 minutes and then it really started to mess with the driving and navigating and general not-getting-lost of it all. See, it was a wet snow and as such, it was a sticky snow. Street signs were completely caked in frozen precip and were rendered illegible. Kind of a hindrance to finding your way in an unfamiliar place.

All in all it was a nice little storm. We made it to all of our destinations, escaping harm at every turn, and got to see some fantastic nature stuff to boot. Despite the nasty slushy mess that was left after the pretty part was over, it was still a nice day. I missed Winter this year, so it's almost as if some greater force gave me a small taste of it just to make sure I remembered how to bundle up.

In case you're wondering, I've still got the touch.


P.S. It's 11:53 and I just got a call from a real estate broker wanting to tell me about some new loft listings he has in Williamsburg. Um, dude? It's almost midnight and you're calling me about apartments? What is wrong with you? I called you 3 days ago - in the middle of the afternoon - about a particular listing of yours, you took 3 days to get back to me and when you finally call me it's almost midnight on a Wednesday. You might want to consider 2 things, Seth from Sunrise Realty: 1) don't call people you've never spoken to before this late, 2) don't interrupt people when they start to answer a question you just asked them... especially if it's almost midnight. Prick.

Firsts - 21 of them

Kristie tagged me. So, here goes:

1. Who was your first prom date? My only prom date - Jon Lewis. He was a good friend a couple years older. My first "friend with benefits". Hardy har har.

2. Who was your first roommate? Some douche named Jenny that I went to middle school with when I lived in upstate NY. I'd moved away 5 years earlier and hadn't seen her since. We ran into each other at college orientation (many states away) and got caught up in the coincidence of it all - requested to be roommates in the dorm. Big mistake. A week after school started I remembered why I couldn't stand her in 8th grade.

3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink the first time you got drunk? Champagne. My cousin's wedding. I was 16 and a bridesmaid. Her sister gave me a whole bottle for myself. Hoo-boy, I was loaded.

4. What was your first job? Paper girl, I was 11. I delivered after school. I loved it, thought I was so grown up.

5. What was your first car? My 1st and only car - '97 Chevy Cavalier. It was a white 2 door and it never let me down. My brother drives it now.

6. When did you go to your first funeral? My great uncle. I think I was 8 or 9. I remember asking my mom if I could stay home since I didn't know him anyway.

7. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown? 9. We moved from Pittsburgh to Indiana. It was like a bad dream that I kept hoping I'd wake up from.

8. Who was your first grade teacher? I want to say Mrs. Rogers, but she may have been 3rd grade. Mrs. Orr was kindergarten. Hmm, I don't think I know who my 1st grade teacher was. Weird.

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? To visit my grandparents. I loved it.

10. When did you sneak out of your house for the first time, who was it with? Just myself. I was in HS and I sneaked out to go see my boyfriend who broke up with me a few months later to date our friend Jason. Mmm hmm.

11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with them? Jill Frederick and I haven't spoken to her in years. I moved a whole bunch and we lost touch.

12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house? College dorm. It was my own personal hell.

13. Who's the first person you call when you have a bad day? 2 people. Kristie and the man. They both tell me exactly what I need to hear - usually 2 completely different takes on what that may be.

14. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid/groomsman? See #3.

15. What is the first thing you do in the morning? Pee.

16. What was the first concert you ever went to? Billy Joel - Storm Front.

17. First tattoo or piercing? My ears. Then my belly button, then the ink started...

18. First celebrity crush? Malcom Jamal Warner... better known as Theo Huxtable. Yum. Had pics of him from Big Bopper and Teen Beat taped up in my locker.

19. Age of first kiss? I was in 6th grade. I think I was 10 or 11. His name was Alan and he was really spitty. I hated it.

20. First crush? My diving instructor. I think I was 9 and I don't remember his name. I know he was blond and tan all the time.

21. First time you did drugs? Summer after my senior year of HS. Smoked pot - proceeded to eat an entire pizza. Figured I should cut that out.

Ignorance is piss, erm... I mean bliss (and happy Spring!)

Yesterday morning my roommate, S, had a CD release party for her 3rd album. My duty was to sell CDs at said event. We left the house at 7:30AM in order to trek it the whole way on up to the Upper West Side to get everything ready before the show - setup, sound check, all that jazz. S, her girlfriend, E, and I were walking down the stairs to the subway and we saw a 20 something guy pissing in the corner of the stairwell. If you know anything about me, it's probably that I can't hold my tongue - not when faced with idiocy. This situation was no exception. S & E made comments like "wow, that guy's just pissing in the corner, OK, not so nice to see this early on a Sunday morning...".

I've been wondering who pees on the subway stairs. Every night when I come home it smells like pee - I hate the smell of pee. Really hate it. It's the one thing I absolutely cannot stand about New York - at one point or another every part of the city smells like urine. So here was my answer standing right there in front of me, demonstrating exactly where the stench comes from. I always assumed it was homeless people who were the subway pissers. Little did I know there was a metrosexual wannabe with a Gotti kid haircut and shiny buckle shoes right in my neighborhood with an affinity for public peeing. I believe my exact words were, "Real classy, man. That's disgusting. I hope it falls off." To which he replied in a mocking voice, "I hope it falls off... mumble mumble...". Lovely.

Enough about the pee. Spring has officially sprung in NYC. I walked around Washington Square Park this afternoon (after my 1st day at my temp job - it went great) and snapped a few photos of the first signs of Winter's demise and Spring's triumphant return.

Rainy Saturday

Today didn't bring the best of weather. We certainly needed the rain (it was the driest March on record), but it made my plans for walking around the city and taking pictures kind of impossible. Well, not impossible, but certainly less enjoyable than I was anticipating. So, I got a burrito and walked around a bit during the breaks in the rain instead. All in all, not a bad day.

It's April Fool's day. I don't know if that's the reason for the street fair I came across on Astor Place, but I'm almost positive it was the reason behind the costumes I saw on these folks. I suppose it could just be their normal, daily outfits, but I doubt it. Even in New York wearing a clown costume on a regular basis is a little weird.

Here's the new haircut. Not much different from the old haircut. But this one's a bit more polished than my usual coiffure. I like it.

OK, I've been blogging in order to distract myself from the Final Four game. My Mason boys (yes, I went to school there) are down and it's stressing me out. But now it's time to watch the game with my full attention and root for my team. I think they could use the cheering on right about now.

Smooth sailing is not a result of calm seas...

... it comes from grueling hard work. You've got to hoist the sails, harness the wind, run the lines, react to the movement of the water and wind as if it's second nature. If you've got the hard work part down pat you can enjoy the process. You can look out on the waves as you cut through the ocean and feel the wind on your face as you glide through water and air. Conversely, if you're sitting idly by on the deck as the wind shifts and the water calms, you've got a good shot at stranding yourself. Chances are you'll lose the wind, your sails will droop, your boat will come to a halt and you will be miles from shore. The lesson is that it takes work - all of it. Even the smoothest of sailing takes some sweat equity.

Much like relationships. They don't just happen and grow and stay afloat with no maintenance. The best of relationships, romantic or not, are the ones that are nurtured and worked on grown with good maintenance. I saw a friend tonight who made me remember that. I tried to grow my relationship with him and nurture it for a long time and my efforts weren't reciprocated. He took and took and is glad to take some more even now. I can't be the one to always reach out, it makes my arms tired and I'd like a break from maintenance duties now and then. He needs to put forth some effort or pretty soon this relationship will have atrophied to the point of no return. I can't sail this ship all by myself.

P.S. Liza Minnelli makes me sad. She's on Letterman right now and she's hard to watch.