Nip It In The Bud

i was looking down at the hole in the crotch of my pants and all i can think is nip it in the bud meghan, before it gets any worse. i already had to get the other side of the inseam patched up when it formed a hole that i could fit my leg through. i'd show you a picture of these pants that i wear everyday, but i'd rather just leave it up to your imagination which will probably render it far less worse than it actually is.

i should throw them out, there's no doubt. i just can't let go. i love these pants even though they're fallen apart and aren't nearly as great as they once were. more importantly they're comfortable, i love the way they feel. what's wrong with me? they were used when i got them. and now they're just pathetic. these pants are like an open wound i constantly wear. i have no shame, you think i could find some?

thankfully summer is close, i'll have to start wearing shorts. fall comes up quickly though, i could get sucked right back in to the black corduroy pants.

i'm constantly mistaking liabilities for assets.

Faceless Memories

when i don't see someone for a bit i slowly forget what they look like. its the first step in a fading memory of someone. it's like when a tv program gets cancelled, and at first it's all so fresh - but after a while you can't even remember the shows name, maybe a few plots and the theme song if you're lucky. i have too many faceless memories of people. i might remember a certain feature, turning my memory into something along the lines of "fat and big ears" or "bushy eyebrows and pointy nose". i never imagine it happening to anyone, them turning into this faceless memory. i can't comprehend how after i saw someone everyday for years within months they can fall out and become diluted, failed memories. memories that end up straining you to recall the precious details that make up a persons facial structure. and maybe you can look at a photograph, but it's not yours to have at your beck and call, waiting for you to need it, so it can be displayed and you can move on without that empty dry feeling on the other side. the one that yells disappointment. that hurt that lets you know that person is gone, if not in reality then in your god damn memory where you needed them to stay and wait for you to call on them.

An Open Letter To Apple

i have a bone to pick with apple. i might be to blame, but i'm going to bank on it being the mega giant corporations fault, and i'll lay it out for you. i entered into this relationship with apple never once thinking it could end up being a bad relationship. one where apple takes what it can get and i get nothing, except a hole burnt in my pocket, and apple precedent that you just can't shake.

i bought my first mp3 player at the tender age of 15, it was the size of walkman and it had a whopping thirty gigs of memory. i didn't choose the flashy ipod, with it's super white face and mirrored back, it's token "wheel" - instead i opted for a Creative brand mp3 that sported nothing great except an hundred dollar price difference. the screen resembled that of a beepers and was digital like an alarm clock. i ended up leaving it on a park bench, and never saw it again. my next mp3 player was an iRiver, i don't even know how i remembered this so i just googled it to make sure, but i LOVED it. it had an fm radio, a voice recorder, and you could view pictures. LOST.

my next mp3 player was where i made the biggest mistake of my life. the ipod shuffle is the gateway mp3 into the apple universe. i opened pandoras box. i got my first generation ipod shuffle for my high school graduation, it was the white one that came with the lanyard. it had no screen. i was strictly about the music then. i thought we would be together forever. i felt like those silhouettes on the commercials, dancing with my ipod swinging around my neck. unfortunately this broke and was replaced with the 2nd generation ipod shuffle that we all know today, it was orange and yeah it's a clip. goodbye fun lanyard. but i was still happy, it was lightweight and held it's charge endlessly. and it was durable so i could be reckless with it.

i eventually gave it away when a friend gave me a spare nano she had. it was 8 gigabytes, and i was aching to fill that shit up. this ipod opened my eyes to the wonders of album artwork, and scrolling. i was brought back to storing photos, and making playlists. life was wonderful. i could never again sport a non-apple mp3 player. when i had some extra money lying around and i saw all these people with itouches, i began to wonder what i could do with one of those magnificent pieces of apple art. i didn't wonder too long, and about 1 month later i purchased a previously used first generation 16gb itouch off ebay. when it arrived it was love at first sight. i spent hours on end during the summer perfecting my itunes so my itouch would be flawless - which it is.

a couple days ago my itouch stopped producing sound in the left earphone. it will cost me at least $250 bucks to replace this, and according to the apple website just as much to fix it. thankfully the government's got my back on this one and recently sent me a little check. i also have an opportunity at the 2nd generation itouch with its ever attractive speaker. and if next month they slap a camera on the 3rd generation itouch i'll just die. cause i'll be in mp3 limbo with a great ipod, but not quite top of the line. and that's just not acceptable anymore because apple has molded me to recognize the best and yearn for it. dammit.

Weathering The Storm

me and my friend mo sat in my car parked in my driveway. she told me the left side of my house looked more fall-ish, and the right side looked more spring-ish. mo was in the drivers seat, wearing a long sleeve dark gray shirt looking at home with her fall-ish backdrop. and i with a yellow softball tee looking rather dapper and ready to jump out on the spring side of the house. it's funny how the weather affects us, me and mo. we were just two people moving at a different pace, but reaching towards the same goal, summer. all that aside, i enjoy mo's company. we share alot of common beliefs, like getting high a lot and not trying too hard. she'd probably be pissed that i said that. i bet in her opinion we try really hard and have overcome "obstacles"-meh. but the real bottom line is she can put up with my antics like no other. like when i call her place of employment drunk and knowingly force a restaurant wide announcement calling her to the phone, eventually causing mo to think the unthinkable: there was a death. haha my sister said no wonder she wasn't pissed, she was relieved no one died. or how when she would incessantly ask me to stop slamming her car door, and no matter how hard i tried to remember not to forget i would. and don't' get me wrong, she isn't exactly mother theresa so she'd be pissed, but mo would still put up with it uhhh i mean me. i also piss her off when i sit at stop signs for too long, or don't go at green lights because i don't feel ready. i know it bothers her so i try not to.

also, my sister is extremely paranoid i'm going to start blogging about her. so folks, just a mere second ago her toothpicks fell and she fell to the floor after them and screamed "not my toothpicks, let us just pretend this didn't happen" and then becoming aware of the situation and me at the computer she looked up all nervous and added "oh please don't blog about this". she's 23 and 2 months with extra baggage, get at me if you want the digits. woop woop.

p.s. thats a picture of mo i obamaized.

"The Time Has Come" The Walrus Said

so, a black cat crossed my path. it was the first time that's happened.
and then i almost hit an orange cat driving. i've been feeling, well, shitty. so i went out an bought a leather camel at 15 bucks from the flea market, it's from india. it's hard to imagine a camel looking valiant and strong, rather than feeble and boring. i for some reason think this camel is going to pull me out of this slump. i purchased it for that particular reason. it's senseless i know, but isn't everything that's comfortable. camels are a lot like llamas, physically anyway.

and another thing. in the process of ridding persons/places/and things from my personal life something just a bit short of amazing happened. because you know how in this dangerous age of technological rule anytime you go to delete something the bot on the other side, in an act that eerily resembles sovereignty protection, will produce a window that will pop up just after you click to delete the unwanted gigabytes asking you "Are you SURE you want to delete this?". it's like a last minute attempt at creating all these do or die thoughts within you. the second guessing usually begins. am i sure? does this text message actually contain pertinent information i will at some point need in the future? hahah, but to cut to the chase if i may, i went to delete something from my phone and i didn't actually want to, but i needed to yanno and as for the part where the bot has absolutely no faith in my ability to click the correct button, it didn't happen. there was no is-this-your-final-answer moment. but i guess it was, for now.

Today's Hate Is Tomorrow's Date: A Downward Spiral

i am so self destructive, and i pick myself apart at every corner. especially when i'm looking around for you.
oh my god - this pain, how did it get so bad? not such a while ago things were pretty and i could look at the day and smile. i found the little promises to help stabilize my moods. sometimes i'd even help myself. i only got headaches when i couldn't sleep. i could act interested in current news without a trace of hatred and anger boiling and turning within me. the type of anger that doesn't even have direction. i feel my fists, the tension. they're so tight.
i'd like to skip this all and get to the blissful shit that's surely waiting for me. plus i don't know where to go from here. you dont' think it left without me? i am so frightened, i'd give up if it didn't sound so fucking terrible. i'd settle, but only if i had to and it was asked of me. i'd still resist. you don't know me, i'm shaking my head.

and there has to be something missing. i don't know what, but it's gone. probably walked out on me along with every other rustic inch of my heart, and it's angst and all it belongs to. i'm the most useless piece of an instrumental union. i'm nothing more than fear. my scope is lessened by the hour and all i see is bitter rivals i once knew tearing up the soil and planting new seeds that a storm wind carried forward. the future is the product of a minute, or less. and i'm in it. can you please kill me? i just sighed when i shouldn't have. i exhale and it's all done with. another flowering cloud that won't turn up. maybe it's the heat because it's certainly not me.

[LIST OF XMAS SONGS THAT CAN BE ENJOYED OUT OF SEASON]
for e.

1. George Michael - This Christmas

2. Mariah Carey - All I Want For Christmas

3. Fall Out Boy - Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

4. Madonna - Santa Baby

5. John Lennon - So This Is Christmas

Legit Questions Before Noon

[LEGITIMATE QUESTIONS]

1. is it possible nowadays to use a pay phone and not look shady?

2. was that a cough or a sneeze?

3. why would anybody eat the bruises on a banana?

4. is it bad that when i look at my unopened extra playstation controller it makes me feel lonely?

A Lyre

haven't you ever felt so broken you just wanted to disappear?
or so lonely you wanna throw the towel in?
could happiness become extinct , or just die out?
you know what's weird? when i was really happy, like genuinely happy, i wanted to die because i figured what are the chances i'll die happy yanno.
i looked coldly into the eyes of friend/co-worker and told her happiness is a lie. and the sad part was i believed it, for at least that second. i have, through the workings of life decided that's the lie. i think i wanted to believe it because that would have meant i'm not a total failure - yet. it could have meant i might keep things lax for a while, and stopped feeling that pressure - which has for better or worse, become my motivation. so now that i've regained my stance on happiness what am i to do?

keep looking for it.

happiness is a 9 letter word. and it's the truth.

Sticks & Stones

i love sad stories. i make my friends tell me theirs over and over again. they never get old to me, and each friend has one in particular that i love. here is brittneys, and i wont change her name and not because i'm insensitive (i am), but because girlfriend don't care.

i'm gonna take you back many years ago, when brittney was still innocent and pure. when she thought the sun was the other side of the moon and still believed her parents to be in love. before hard work and verbal banter from colleagues and family about her smoking habit, and the rather melancholy mood that follows.

she was a small elementary school student, and with that said happiness was easy to come by. she had gotten a book from the school library, but while she had it out something terrible happened. soda got spilled on the book, and it was completely ruined. a few days later and with no other choice, the then pathetic third grader that brittney was took the book back to the library apologized and received a small lecture. she felt much relief because at 8 years old nothing could be more stressful.

the next year (and the next and the next and the next until her moving up ceremony in 5th grade) during the library orientation speech the librarian began describing that students must take care of their books when they're out of the library, because surely it's a privilege to be allowed to do so. she spoke about not bending the bindings, and not folding the corners of the pages, and when she got to the part about being careful around liquids she reached below the podium and pulled out the copy of the book that brittney had ruined the year earlier. she showed it off as the "what not to do" example. brittney hung her head down, remembering the embarrassment, nervous that someone else might know besides the librarian. this was the first time a mistake would come back to haunt her. she will be the "what not to do" example a couple more times.

happy april fools day.

In Love, I Fell

my memory of you, it was this time last year - i fell in love with you, somewhere between going to your house and the drinking. you would cook hot dogs in the microwave and tell me i could never be fat. i got restless sleeping on the floor, hiding under covers chilled, and i left before the dawn. this was before i lost our solidarity.

after, i wake up now in the middle of sleeping and all i feel is an emptiness. kind of like what you told me about when what's her face left.

and when with you by chris brown comes on the radio i feel his villains, but mostly my own.

A Spectacle

rip jade goody (1981-2009)

not that i ever watched her for a second on tv (i heard she's a real pisser though), but i'm an avid perezhilton.com reader and when i first saw her all bald and looking like death my infatuation began. the one where i spent many minutes of the day wondering, not if, but when she's gonna die. and met with the possibility of a miracle, while beautiful, wasn't the happy ending i wanted. terminal is the word i fell in love with. it meant the end, and i was gonna have a front row seat as goody (respectably, if possible) whored herself out to the media. god bless you girl. today though i could finally relax, because goody passed away yesterday.

i would raise a glass to jade goody for working those muthafuckin media folk like no one before or after will!

but in closing i'd like to say i do feel a deep sadness for her small children, and husband. goody was a representation of reality tv. she earned her living off it, even in death. now her kids can have some financial flexibility. someone faking compassion might object that this isn't what's important right now but, but in reality it is. and the reality of life is death so who better to document it than goody.

Looking Older All The Time, Feeling Younger In My Mind

oh man.

last night i'm with my two friends who work with small children. one is swim instructor and one is a elementary school student teacher. as we're relaxing i suddenly feel myself far removed from the conversation as it turns it's attention towards "their" kids (both of them have become very possesive, you'd think they carried all 30 somewhat kids for 9 months - yack). but they say the kids are just terrible sometimes and especially if they're in bunches and without a strong authoritative figure. they're running all over so fast, zipping right by you, kickballs flying everywhere, screaming, yelling, and the whole nine yards.

and i don't hear another word they say because in my head i'm doing a comparison between the kids just described, and this kid - me. i wondered why a 20 year old like myself felt as if i was just described. i thought about when i was 10, and how that was 10 long years ago, and i asked myself what has changed. i still feel the same chaos around me and i still feel small. although currently i am college student, i was drinking a beer, my car was parked out front, i hold a part time job...are these just our ways of faking it? these are supposed to be the things that make me older? and then i looked down and i was worried because i was wearing the same sneaker i wore when i was 10. of course they are different colors, maybe a little bit bigger in size, but the same model none the less. they are adidas sambas in case you cared, a good shoe design that has obviously withstood the test of time.

but will i?

"Her Cycle Leaked"

i work at a dry cleaners and i mean people always think like "ew you touch peoples dirty clothes", and for the most part no. you'd be crazy to think that people bring in dirty clothes to get clean, these are borderline clean clothes. sometimes folded. okay so there is the occasional cat piss, cat puke, cat whatever - and you can tell all your cat loving friends that preach about how clean cats are that the majority of animal related stains are from cats - but you just hold the corner and try not to breathe through your nose, no big deal. and i think mothballs are an acquired scent, if you will.

the phone rings at the cleaners, i pick up. on the other line is a young girl looking for my manager, i can tell she's in a pickle. she is very hesitant on the phone and for at least 30 seconds all i heard was sighs and heavy breathing, until she finally says she has a customer with a stain on her pants. just getting that out of her took forever. after i had to twist her arm to hear why the hell she's calling she tells me "this customers cycle leaked and she doesn't want a man to see it so we're gonna send it over in a separate bag with a note for Cindy". did i really just hear that? what a fucked up choice of words...her "cycle leaked". i wanted to tell her it sounded like a personal problem. but at the same time if your "cycle" wasn't leaking wouldn't that be bad? i kinda think leak is a word reserved for plumbing issues. and the second part about not wanting a man to see it...like whaaaaaaaaat the hell, only one woman works at my job and if you think shes gonna like hand wash your period stains out and not be totally repulsed you've lost it...or probably never had it to begin with.

after all this at the end of our conversation she asks me to repeat it all back to her. so i say "you got pants with a period stain you're gonna send them over separately". she then sighs for what seems like forever and says "never mind i'll just call Cindy in the morning".

run away, run away

i think about running away soon. i would cross state lines, go by a different name, and pick up solitaire. i wouldn't make any friends because i wouldn't talk to a soul. i'd resort to pick pocketing and black market sales in the beginning. i'd scour the streets with my head down looking for cigarette butts and complain about big brother and the welfare state. all my despair would reach the surface and start spilling over. i'd make it a point to get drunk everyday before noon, and if someone asked me how i was i'd snap back that i'm better than them. i'd triumph over the enslaved bourgeoisie with my self-reliant tendencies. i'd then find work as a store clerk and with that i'd rediscover the weekly paycheck. i would then take my earnings down to the closest theater and i'd see a movie. i would go alone and i'd be more than happy to do it.

i wouldn't wonder how i could feel so lonely, for once i'd know.

when i was re-released back into my old stomping grounds i'd notice everything was just as i had left it. and i'd slowly slink back to my old ways. several years later i'd struggle trying to recount the time i left life.

The Vernal Equinox

i was just on my way back to class waiting to cross the street when this cute little old lady next to me remarked what a disgusting day it was. i nodded my head but just told her nicer weather was on the cusp and spring would be here soon. and then i felt weird because i was being all optimistic, and lets just say i haven't worn that face in a while.

and then i had another thought. spring might see the end of that little old lady.

and then i had another thought. wouldn't a t-shirt reading "my grandma died and all i got was this shirt" be really funny? or should i seek professional help?

Once You Pop!

for me it's really the little things that i witness that get me through the day. i was at starbucks the other day preparing for an exam later in the day when i saw someone bringing their bicycle in. everything about it was normal at first glance. i always stare at bikes because i've kinda always hung onto this small pipe dream that one day in the future i'll be a premiere cyclist. anyway, when i looked over at the place on the frame where you hold your water bottle there was no water there, in it's place was a container of pringles. which by the way fit perfectly in the spot making it feel like a norm, almost like every other cyclist on the road carries that can of pringles when they're trekking uphill and need a boost of energy. anyway after i saw it i couldn't stop smiling for minutes.

and the last time that happened was a couple months back when i got off the train and i was trying to stare at somebody, but without them noticing so i was keeping my head stationary and just moving my eyes. of course about 2 seconds into this maneuver i walked right into a giant pillar. which WOAH brings me to something else: PUSSYFOOTED [meaning stealty or cautiously walking], which apprently i am not...i had never heard the word up until yesterday but my sister says it is frequented in rap songs.

i guess what i'm trying to say is if you see pringles where water should be, let your guard down and smile.

Another One Bites The Dust

people will let you down is what you hear all the time. it really doesn't matter though because it's still always a shock when it happens.

today i found out that this 65 year old man was trying to sabotage me, making room for him to get back hours where we work. my heart sunk when i heard the news. even though he knows not a word of english we've been working together for over four years and i thought our relationship to be a good one. he would always help me out with the work to be done and i would share lunches with him. however, more recently as the economy seems to get worse everyday my boss has had to cut his hours. thus forcing me to do his job because the business has slowed so considerably i've had a lot of free time on my hands. since i have to stay until 7pm to help customers and close the store it made sense for me to take over his job that way he could go home. i mean yes it sucks obviously he is losing money and hours but isn't it better than losing your job? and i mean to put my job in jeopardy by constructing fake errors within my work is an act fueled by greed. i'm downright flabbergasted and altogether hurt. it really is a dog eat dog world. [sigh].

Buyer Beware: Granny Exploitation

vending machines are a wonderful tool for society. they cut out that real life merchant middle man that nobody wants to look at or deal with. plus all the selections are so evenly spaced and at a good height for viewing, making snack selection easier than at your local 7-11 where all the candy looks like the men or woman aboard a triangle trade slave ship. this is totally irrelevant but just to show you how far the vending machine industry has come you can look to my college, CUNY Baruch, where the "healthy" snacks are labeled so with a green plastic front piece around the first spiral of the coil.

wait, now it seems as if i'm tooting the horn of the vending machine. there are a few downsides that i'll touch upon extremely briefly. sometimes they eat your money and no one within 25 miles can help you or ever get your money back. the selection is very finite and can range in quality from great to terrible. also, its like a ancient form of torture when they decide they're not taking bills.

that was all just me on a tangent, hope you found my opinions interesting. i should have put a note in the first paragraph that read "jump down to paragraph 4 if you have no interest in my feelings on vending machines".

here is how the vending machine fits into everything. just days ago i was fooled by some clever trickery's. i'm a BIG fan of oatmeal raisen cookies. i just love raisens, you could cover one in molasses call it a moose track and i'd probably love it. so when i went to vending machine and saw two soft oatmeal raisen cookies packaged together in plastic with a nice wholesome granny on the front i knew i had made my selection. problem is the cookies sucked. they were bland and tasted nothing like the cookies the lady on the cover of the package would have whipped up. i was just disappointed in myself for falling into the grandma trap because had anything else been on the cover i would have played it safe and opted for the puffed cheese doodles.

[Insert Billy Joel River Of Dreams Lyrics Here]

last night i went to bed early, and lately i find myself asleep before 11pm. it's not like i'm tucked in, i've just been passing out when i don't even want to. i wouldn't even mind except usually before i go to sleep i'll prepare for the next day by charging my electronics, setting out my clothes and checking that certain necessities (keys, headphones, hw, etc.) are all packed away where they need to be. i don't leave myself much time in the morning and i get anxiety if i think i'm gonna be late or unprepared for school.

so, when i woke up in the middle of the night and looked to the left where i had envisioned my red hat to be i slipped into a bit of a panic when it wasn't there. at first i just shuffled the covers around and checked the usual places. as the panic elevated i began to feel a heightened sense of insecurity, but i keep good tabs on that hat so i knew it had to be home. after looking in virtually every possible place i grabbed my keys, threw on my black hoodie and sneakers and went outside to check my car. as i walked back to my house empty handed and dejected i realized the severity of the situation. here i was outside at 2am in the freezing cold snow, on the verge of tears, ready to collapse, searching for a hat that hasn't done much for me lately. i knew i was in trouble as i stared up into the sky because i'm not much of a believer and i didn't really expect an answer, but i asked anyway - why do i feel like i just lost my best friend?

oh yeah, i did.

i went back inside, more somber than before but still just a little more accepting of the situation - maybe the hat was better off without me. i guess i woke my mom up in the ruckus. when she came out of her room i asked if she'd seen the hat, i told her it was lost. moms especially always seem to know where m.i.a. belongings are, and mine is no different. although from prior circumstances i've concluded it's usually because she rifles through my crap and puts it back where she pleases. anyway, she said no, and probably aware of my hysteria headed right into the bathroom without any further word. i went back into my room and turned the light on, i figured i wasn't gonna be able to fall back asleep now. then i looked at the bed again, i moved it out from against the wall, and there on the dusty floor lay my hat. it amazed me that it had strayed so far from me in the course of mere hours while i was helpless and asleep. i understood though that sometimes when you least expect it you lose something. not that you wanted to lose it, not that you stopped holding it any tighter, but because it wanted to get lost. i felt betrayed by the hat, but was still relatively happy to have it back.

Dandruff: The Silent Social Killer

i can count the number of friends i have on one hand. its not too tough a situation and it makes christmas shopping a breeze. i've had my theories on why i have a limited number of friends, and mostly i blame my social anxiety disorder, which i believe in fact roots from my moms moms mom (my great-grandmother, rip). lately though i've been exploring other options, and if you take away the fact that i'm a hypocrite, a drunk, a liar, and a sarcastic jerk i'm left with one thing: dandruff.

i used to treat my dandruff with a two in one shampoo i'm sure most are familiar with, head and shoulders. but i stopped because who am i trying to impress? you see how this could end up a vicious cycle, which i think it has..do i have to feel the repercussions of my rapidly maturing scalp skin cells? a normal persons don't mature until a full month, while mine are maturing in 2-5 days in most cases. and i wear black without the blue dammit. and i'm thinking that my dandruff probably could go under the radar except i don't like the idea of the dead skin just sitting on my scalp so in the middle of class i'll scratch my head real fast. and the dandruff flies. and maybe i'd care, or even be embarrassed, except i don't know these people, so who cares what they think? so suddenly i'm wondering if i fill out a personal ad do i include the dandruff, or do i try and hide it and eventually cure it before my new friend ever realizes. its a toss up. because i mean what if i have some crazy strand of dandruff that is resistant to treatments. and when i go to the doctor and they ask - is dandruff a pre-existing medical condition? dandruff could be the unsung social-life killer.

anyway in my dandruff research i found this very interesting web-site listing celebrities with dandruff. and while it might be nice to be in the company of johnny depp, john lennon, elvis, and (ew) tyra banks (which i don't even believe because i bet she wears a wig, and hell if her wig has dandruff that's just foul), it is even NICER to be in the company of .::drum roll please::. MISS FRANCE 1999! woo hooo. so screw it, the verdict: sensitive scalp seeks stable single.

Feed The Children, Save Yourself

my sister tells me about this girl at her job, let us call her misty. misty is severely obese. now as someone who isn't obese at all i'm just going out on a limb here to say one would think it was in the best interest of a fat person to try and eat less to try and prevent the health risks associated with obesity. not to mention it's just plain disgusting being incredibly fat and it suggests character flaws like laziness and a lack of self-control. but no fat people don't care, they just accept their fatness for what it is. you've seen that t-shirt "i'm in shape, round is a shape".

but back to misty. my sister works at a day care and all the children are assigned cubbies where they can keep their coats, backpacks, and most importantly for the purposes of this story, their lunches. a decent human being, except in the case of dire starvation, would probably consider stealing snacks from the lunches of children to be cruel. not misty. she gets famished, or even remotely hungry and no food is safe from her scarfing it down. the oreos promised to a 3 year old are devoured by a woman who could probably live off the fat from her ass alone for a whole month.

what is wrong with fat people? and i hate when people relate overeating to smoking cigarettes and drinking in excess and shit. its not the same at all. fat people have a poor self image and are mean because they're so miserable with themselves.

yeah i was picked on by a fat kid in junior high. so what.

The Heart Not On My Sleeve

last night before i fell asleep i was thinking about my heart, not the one that belongs to an ex-lover, but the tangible one that's sitting in my chest cavity, beating, and working to sustain my life. i have no control over this, it is completely involuntary (although i've read people can meditate and slow their heart rate down to like two beats per minute - i'm not one of those buddhist monks though, and dear reader i doubt you are either) and even though i've known this for quite sometime i was surprised because life is really very voluntary, especially for those with access to a gun, a piece of rope, a plastic bag, a train, a knife, a plethora of pills, a car and garage, or a tall building with roof access. and while the ease of suicide is depressing - paired with the fact we can so easily slip into a bout of sadness with lingering suicidal thoughts, the fact of the matter becoming even more depressing - i found myself rather optimistic about life because lying in my bed, alone for the first time in nights, i knew that tomorrow i'd wake up and go out there and my heart would already be beating for me!

My New Haircut

well, i've been meaning to blog about my haircut for a while now. of course people get haircuts, it's nothing new or special, and i'm not at all trying to impress you with proof i do keep up with my grooming. rather, i've done the unthinkable and cut all my hair off and dyed it blond. it's been less than two months, but i feel as if this could be 3 separate blog entries. but it wont be because that would bore most i believe. i want to first introduce you to my hair prior to the cut: it was brown, long and curly and i almost never brushed it. people compared it to jesus and real (as in a real chance of love, for those who know it). but today my hair is about two inches short at its longest point and its dyed blond. the type of blond that works in no way to conceal the fact you got it dyed. i'm happy with it though. because its easy. and simple.

now one can't undergo such a dramatic change without getting peoples opinions thrust upon them. and i'm okay with that. and i happen to find humor in it. the way people word things. somethings i've heard:

"don't worry it will grow back"
"oh it really doesn't look that bad"

i wasn't worried.

the next thing is the question of why i did this, or what "made" me do this. as if i couldn't just of wanted to do it. so, what caused me to change my hair like this after rocking the same style for years? i tell people my sister and my friend told me to. which is a half truth because i also decided to do it because that day i was thinking i needed a haircut, and my friend a couple hours later noted the same thing. and well i believe in signs so i saw no reason not to give in to their request. and people seem content with that answer, but i can't help but think after hearing it for the twenty-something time that what they really want me to say is that i had the balls to do it, and i really didn't care what people were gonna think. it's almost like they know when it comes down to it that's what gave me the ability to grant my hair such an astonishing change of style.

and the last thing, and this is cute, is that i thought this hair would make me look older. i'm 20, but look about 15. in fact someone working at the movie theater once looked at me and said "wait, you're over 11 right?" but the other day at work a customer had her daughter with her. and the daughter is probably 7 or 8 and shes staring at me and finally looks at her mom and says "isn't she a little young to be working here?"

i almost died, but i felt youthful.

Cha-Cha-Cha-Chances!

my pal brittney is driving my Hyundai Elantra down Smithtown Ave. i put immense trust in my friends while they're in the drivers seat, and yesterday was no different. i have my head down because i'm trying to pick the next song on my iPod. i hear brittney say "we're going to make this light" and everything about her face read confidence. with that i immediately raise my head. i wanna know the situation i'm about to be immersed in. and with that i see that we're at least a mile from the light, and i didn't even see it turn green. it was stale. staler than cigarettes purchased online from some offshore neighboring country. i held my breath as i felt her accelerate towards the light. i felt it turning yellow. any second now. i felt the disappointment. but as we made the left onto Church St. it was clear we had indeed made the light. weird.

as we continued on Church St. i acknowledged the rarity of making that light, and how strangely long it was green for. waiting for us almost. i even let brittney know i thought she jinxed us by stating we were going to make the light, and so prematurely. we were excited, and i think we felt almost invisible. smiling at each other like we just won twenty bucks on a scratch off sorta thing.

about a quarter mile down Church is another light at the intersection at Walnut Ave. the light was only put there maybe two years ago and it's always green. it only turns red if someone sets off the sensor on Walnut Ave. but Walnut Ave. is basically non existent and serves almost no purpose. it only turns red if the entire world is pinned against you and just the day before you broke a mirror and walked under a ladder. so in the midst of our happiness that light turned red. it would be foolish not to mention we saw it happen. with our own eyes. after it sunk in we just sorta laughed and looked at each other, because these things happen.

A Series Of Unfortunate Events That Led To A Somewhat Fortunate Event....Sorta

i left my car at work the other day because my friend picked me up - when she was dropping me off at my car we noticed two cars parked in the road, in the shoulder, in front of my job. they were parked facing each other and when they saw us pull in they immediately ran to our car, went to the drivers window and proceeded to ask my friend if she would please jump one of their cars. my friend then turned to me and said "meghan can you please do it"

as you read this blog i think it's only fair to assume that you will start to form opinions about me. but i don't want one of those opinions to be that i'm stupid. it might begin to look like i'm stupid and constantly make bad decisions. i do constantly make bad decisions, but i'm not stupid. however, if there are two choices i tend to choose the one that in the long run is overall less attractive, it's not because i'm stupid. it's because i'm an optimist, have all the luck in the world, and am dumb enough to believe in the law of attraction.

my battery had been on the fritz, dying at around a bi-weekly rate. i knew this might not end well. but i felt for them. not too long ago it had been me sitting in the freezing cold dark waiting for a jump, a savior. i liked the idea of that being me to someone else. my friend left me with two complete strangers and two dead batteries on my hands (hers had died trying to jump his). i took out my cables and began the process - but it just wasn't working. we tried both of our cables, and i tried jumping both of their cars. nothing. then more nothing - my battery sizzled out just as i was losing hope either of their cars would ever start again. i stepped off to the side of the road and screamed at nothing, about nothing. it was cold as hell.

i asked to borrow a lighter so i could smoke a cigarette - they invited me to their car. i accepted. the prospect of extra body heat shut up any qualms i had about jumping into a strangers car, plus it'd be hard to kidnap me without a working vehicle. my friend had to come back to jump all of us, but before she did me and the two strangers formed a bit of a friendship. they offered me a hit from their peace pipe and the guy kept repeating "is this not the craziest thing that's ever happened to you? THREE DEAD CARS?!?!?!". i didn't wanna lie so i said nothing - crazier things have happened.

a week later my battery died again, it wasn't much of a problem until i realized i didn't have my cables. my friend had accidentally took them during the previous weeks fiasco. it seemed like a shot in hell, but i called her boyfriend (they share a car) and turns out he was really close to where my car died. so he jumped it and asked that i pick his girlfriend up from work. he was busy and didn't wanna be late. i did it.

A Boys Dream

i went to work one day last week, a saturday actually. one of my many responsibilities at the cleaners is taking out the garbage. when i went to remove the bag from the front garbage something caught my eye. this something was clearly out of place in a dry cleaners garbage. i couldn't tell what it was, all i knew was this was wood, and this was hand crafted.

i picked it up out of the garbage, avoiding snotty tissues all the way through. i don't even know what came over me or why i picked it out of the garbage. it wasn't worth any money, it wasn't pretty. it was a small wooden snowman decorated with buttons and glued to a wooden base. it wasn't even painted. it was a project my bosses son made in kindergarten and gave to my boss. what was it doing in the garbage? i flipped it over and looked at the bottom of the base, jack was carved into the wood. i felt like i was about to cry, or just throw up. i thought about my own dad, and his absence. i thought about how a son loves his father, who is just a man - no matter what. but that man maybe doesn't recognize the love, or doesn't have time for it - or at least doesn't have time to return the love. maybe i took it too far. maybe it was taking up too much space and just getting in the way. i mean christmas season had long passed and who is a five year old to notice the gift he gave his father go missing? i still couldn't help but think that the snowman was a gift and couldn't mean much to my boss, who threw it out.

my manager, a mom, was more disgusted than me-and she wasn't giving my boss the benefit of the doubt. she knew this snowman wasn't just a dust collector. she went into his office and placed it back on his desk. it's been there since.

after all this i remembered a time earlier, over the summer when jack came into work to help his dad wash the car. he looked so happy. my boss looked irritated and drained. not to mention stressed. i also thought about a time when i was on the train and i had put my backpack in the carrier and a man not too different from my boss helped me take it down. i wasn't even struggling or reaching for the backpack, i hadn't even yet attempted to get it. but he must have noticed that i was pretty short and not too toned. he sensed i had no one to help me, and i would appreciate it, he knew that. i missed my own dad right then. i missed having my own dad. not that he would have been on the train to help me anyway, but i wouldn't have felt so sad when someone else was.

You're Ageless, Timeless, Lace And Fineness

over the summer i went ahead and saw Mama Mia - the film adaptation, it was a wonderful movie going experience. two girls a row ahead of me knew all the songs and dances, so they performed along with the cast. i really appreciated it because it brought the movie to life. the tall boy also brought the movie to life, but at a cost. my bladder is comparable in size to a walnut so i had to do the 100m dash right to the bathroom halfway through. and about twenty minutes later i had to go again - but i sure as hell wasn't gonna miss the mystery of the bastard child get solved so i made the difficult decision to sit it out and suffer to the end.

as soon as the movie ended i started power walking (a skill i perfected in 11th grade gym class, thanks mrs.perry) to the bathroom. on the way i passed the two girls and let them know they rocked. when i finally reached the bathroom i was relieved to know i beat the movie-just-let-out bathroom rush and i picked a middle stall (i'm a firm believer that the first stall is in fact the dirtiest) sat down and peed. outside my stall i could hear the first few signs of a crowd, but what i hadn't realized was that in my haste to pee i hadn't locked the stall. i've gotten into a terrible habit of using the bathroom with the door open at my house, and at the houses of friends, which i guess got me too comfortable, and with my carelessness led to the exhibition of that habit in a very public restroom.

so as i'm on the toilet, pants down, squatting and still a nice stream of pee being banished from the body, in other words as vulnerable as one can be, a woman in her mid forties, fresh off a movie musical designed with her in mind and with the prospect of love keeping her high, swung the stall door open, shrieked, apologized, stepped back and let the door swing back shut. i made my grand, shameless exit about 5 seconds later, looked at her, laughed and placed the blame on myself.

i was about to make a clean escape - my back to the lady, when she yelled from the space in front of the stall "wait, is the lock broken?". at this point i had a small audience, i was a little tipsy (or so i'd like to think), and i had no reason to lie so i turned my head, smirked, and said "no i live on the edge like that". her face was priceless - curiosity mixed with confusion. i didn't wanna leave her hanging, but i knew i didn't have time for what i really wanted to do - liberate her! like a race horse when the gates open. i wanted to tell her she too could pee with the door open, and if she wanted she could drink beer in the theater with no regard for the rules. she could throw it all out the window. she could even leave the kids with her mom and take a vacation, or tell off Jim from work. but i didn't because these are things she payed her therapist for.

Held Without Bail

today on the train something funny happened, in the sense that it was unexpected. there are two people who always get on together at wyandanch, one male and one female, who always sit together. but today when they got on she took a seat up front by the doors, and he sat next to me - on the inside (i always take an outside seat because i feel trapped on the inside, and okay yeah it discourages people from sitting next to me). so there was this awkward moment where he was putting his stuff above my seat in the overhead carrier, but i still didn't get that he wanted to sit next to me, and my headphones were on, so he had to mouth and gesture for me to get up to allow him access to the inner seat. most people are reluctant to take a seat that places them in the situation of having to communicate with another passenger, and this is why even though i felt him wanting the seat i didn't act on that feeling. anyway, when he sat next to me i felt at peace, as if we were together, in the same boat.

i imagined her telling him that she didn't love him anymore, but him behind her on the train, like he had always been behind her. him telling himself that she'll come around. we were both dressed in all black from head to toe, except my red hat - his was black, and his skin was black too and i thought his insides to be darker than mine because of the wear from his age. i thought that if i wanted i could rest my head upon his shoulder and that would be fine with him. not that i would ever attempt such a thing (not to say that i didn't want to). but if i needed to i felt comfort in believing that i could. so i sat and read Swift, and he sat with his eyes closed, and i felt like we shared more than just the commute.

It's Optimum, Or It's Not

i was on the train, and i always take a look at the poster advertisements. probably because most are for exotic vacations and airline tickets, and at 6am on the way to school nothing seems more desirable. props to the marketing executives responsible for the placement of such ads. anyway i was taking a specific look at one ad with christina applegate (i think and i wanna say i'm pretty sure, definitely in the 85%-95% range) on it with the promise of receiving not one but SEVEN lifetime channels if you make the switch from Optimum iO to Verizon FiOs.

so my first thought is, how the heck can "they*" get enough tv, movie, biopics (a lifetime signature move), whatever to fill 7 channels and all about women in danger and broken homes and teenagers impregnated by their rapists. how many repeats of army wives can one watch? well i thought at least one must be in spanish, but still 6 lifetimes. damn.

but my second thought was what a beautiful symbol for america. because we don't want one lifetime, no. we want seven, or even eight i mean would be nice, right?

*still no clue yet as to who "they" are.

JUST AS A SIDE NOTE: isn't it weird how you drop most things and they just kinda hit the ground with one sudden and instantaneous thud and then it's all over. but sometimes you can drop a bowl and it just continues to make that terrible noise as it wobbles across the floor in a dreidel like fashion until you either pick it up and stop it yourself, or the entire thing just plays out and gravity and friction put it to rest. it's just funny to me because its the one thing you drop and kinda have to like immediately cater to it or else you hear that sound.