...still raining...

* My ulcer is coming back.
* I lost my wallet with EVERYTHING in it.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

----
But I got some long distance love.
...
You make me perfect.
----
I love roaming.

When it rains, it pours.

The other day I was talking to my friend Ellen when she mentioned that bad things always happen in threes. Considering that normally things work out pretty well for me, I wasn't really worried. I mean, the only bad thing that had happened to me in a really long time was my computer dying on me but that wasn't even so bad because it was still under warranty.

Well...apparently Ellen was right.

Let's see...my laptop died, the charger for my iPod died too so that sucked, I got into a car accident (more like someone crashed into me while my car was parked!), I lost my new D&G glasses, I haven't even moved in and I am already having issues with the association in my new building, I still can't find furniture I like (though now I own a bed, a TV, and a coffeemaker!) and I'm afraid of what might come to me in the next couple of days!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...

I need love...

"I wish you were here to make me a sandwich..."

The hard drive of my computer crashed a couple of days ago and while the fine people of Compaq are taking care of business (the laptop is still under warranty) I have been going nuts. I never realized how dependant of computers I am and how much time I spend around them.

This morning, for example, I woke up 10 minutes late and I did everything I usually do in the morning except for turning on my computer, checking my mail and reading my celebrity gossip and even so I managed to get to work 20 minutes early. How does that happen?

Onto other news, I am moving next week so in an effort to get everything ready, I have been looking at some furniture in the hopes that I'll find just the perfect things. I HATE SHOPPING FOR FURNITURE! and it's not even that I hate shopping for furniture per se, but I feel immensely pressured and it shouldn't be like that.

In my mind, furniture shopping should be enjoyable...but it's not. I keep worrying about what my apartment will look like if I don't have the couch, the loveseat, the ottoman, the coffee table, the dining table, the barstools, the bedframe, the night tables, the chest, the chair, the TV, the DVD player and the TV stand... and yet the only thing that I have found that I'm confident enough to buy, though it's probably what I need the least, is the TV. No matter how ugly the TV, it's still a TV...I wish I could say the same thing about the couch...

So yeah...Yvette was trying to comfort me yesterday by telling me that I don't HAVE to buy everything right away, but I obsess and I'm still obsessing. And I worry about what people will think if they come visit and I don't have a table, and I should be worried about other things, but right now...that's that.

and you're my obsession...

"Imagine pageant
In my head the flesh seems thicker
Sandpaper tears corrode the filth

And I need you now somehow"-Ana's Song (Open Fire) by Silverchair

When I embarked on my weight loss adventure, my brother Gus was living in England. During the time that I was dieting I saw him once in the very beginning. I didn't see him again until I was past my goal weight. For him it was very dramatic to see the sister that he always knew to be be fat as someone who was thinner than average. After that, when he saw that I continued to lose weight (I lost about 20 more pounds since then) he was convinced that I had an eating disorder.

I've never had an eating disorder; however, I'll be the first to admit that I'm pretty obsessive about my eating and exercising and as a result it hasn't taken more than a cold to bring me to a weight that could lead people to believe that there is something physically wrong with me having at my absolute thinnest weighed a mere 97 pounds.

But like I said, I have always eaten plenty and I am the first to say that it is important to eat and to eat well and because I know that people around me worry a lot about my health I keep myself in check.

At work there is a girl I see almost every day. She is French and has a cool French name and an adorable French accent. More often than not she'll speak Frenglish and has that sense of style that in my experience, only comes innately to French women. The fact of the matter is that she is someone most women would die to be like. Everytime you hear her say "Can I have that s'il vous plait?" you totally think that she is the embodyment of the stereotype and it's hard not to wish you were her, if only for one second.

Anyway, French girl has lost an enormous amount of weight since she came to Miami. Well, maybe not enormous, but the fact of the matter is that after having taken a few days off work, on our normal interaction yesterday I saw her and there was nothing other than a bunch of bones and a trace of what was once a gorgeous head of blonde hair.

Needless to say, I was taken aback by this and because she is someone I am partly responsible for, I had to say something.

Apparently she is under the belief that to be a "Miami Beach babe" you have to weigh 60 pounds. In her mind, because she is neither tall, tanned, or big boobed she has to compensate by being small enough that she when sideways she could go unnoticed.

It breaks my heart.

She sees beauty in everything outside of her and is so consummed by all the fake beauty she saw prior to coming here that she doesn't realize how beautiful she was before she decided that she wasn't enough. For her, food is the enemy and she doesn't realize that the enemy is within her.

As a psych major, I know that anorexia usually comes as a way to gain control; however, it's hard to explain to someone who can't fully understand you and with whom you have a limited ability to make yourself understood that she has lost control. And it makes you think about what we, as a society, are putting out there for the world to see as an ideal when in reality is a hypocritical ideal in a land when a huge percentage of the population is overweight.

I used to think that New York (especifically Manhattan) was bad in terms of the incredible amount of unhealthily tiny women walking around. But it takes a change in perspective to change your mind because after having been here for a month I realize that Miami (especifically Miami Beach) is bad in terms of the incredible amount of Barbie types (albeit silicone filled, bleached Barbie types) who are walking around.

Screw relationships...I just want a friend.

Happy Valentine's Day.

My mother's mini-me

I am finally moving to my own place on March 1. Despite the fact that I've thoroughly enjoyed my stay chez Kat's, it's time for me to move on and get settled into what will hopefully be my place for a long time to come.

Because I have nothing, I've been buying stuff randomly on a need to use basis. I'll use it every once in a while and then pack it again and put it in the closet along with the rest of my stuff. Now that the sales have started I have been really taking advantage. I am weird in that way. I hate to spend money on stuff I don't need, and yet even though I know that I need kitchenware, I don't want to spend money buying it.

Anyway, upon stumbling across a Macy's catalogue today in the mail, I decided to get my sick ass out of bed and go buy some pots and pans. So I did. The sales guy must have thought there was something wrong with me because one by one I would stack up boxes on the counter in a very mechanical fashion without any help and without even saying a word.

In my time I've had my share of apartments to furnish and each time I have purchased certain items more out of familiarity than out of actual preference (ie- that's what my mom had when I was growing up), which is somewhat strange cosidering that I've always done a fine job of giving my mother heart attacks when it comes to my interior decorating. But even so, I know that I should always buy cutlery like so, flatware like so, glassware like so, and dinnerware like so. The pots and pans have to be a certain brand and I need lots of baking stuff because there is no life without Pyrex. Basically my mother's mini-me is in the Matha Stewart part of my subconscious.

So I get to the plates and I find this shelf with a really fun selection. This time around I thought I'd go pick colorful plates to go with my new colorful life. So I saw a nice display and went straight for it. It looked something like this.

But as I got closer I noticed the squared shaped plates. Next to the standard round plates. And I was like "whoa". I was completely taken aback by the fact that there were cool colorful squared plates next to the cool colorful round plates...those that my mother would certainly pick out. You know, the conservative ones. The ones that don't look like sushi plates.

I spent the next 20 minutes obsessing, all the while the sales guy was about to have a nervous breakdown thinking that I was going to drop one of them from hadling them so much (or maybe that I would infect them with my terrible cold by merely standing by them longer than necessary). Round. Squared. Round. Squared. Round. Squared.

My head started to hurt so I picked 8 settings of round plates. Halfway to the register though I was more like "no...the squared ones". Then the guy is putting them back and I was like "no. the round ones are the ones I need". The guy was getting annoyed but he obliged.

We are at the register, I am just about ready to pay and in one of those rare moments of clarity I was like "I like the squared plates. I want the squared plates".

I love my mother.

But I am not my mother and I am not about to turn into her just yet.

"I am the owner of my karma .
I inherit my karma.
I am born of my karma.
I am related to my karma.
I live supported by my karma.
Whatever karma I create, whether good or evil, that I shall inherit."
The Buddha, Anguttara Nikaya V.57 - Upajjhatthana Sutta

Cookies and juice.

Yesterday Yvette was having a barbecue and I couldn't go.

But before I decided that I was too sick to go, I baked like 500 cookies to bring to the gathering. I mean, it is rude to show up at a food gathering without anything and she said that she needed nothing so cookies are as acceptable as nothing gets.

A sweet nothing if you will.

Anyway, today I woke up still sick as a dog only to realize that I had a huge, fattening problem on my hands. So before I decided that I was far too sick to go to work, which turned out to be when I was already a block away, I put them on ziploc bags and took them with me. I figured that since I've never seen anyone there say no to food, that this would be as good a place as any to bring them.

But I turned around, got off the highway and there they were still...sitting in the passenger seat of my car saying "eat me-eat me". All the while my discomfort had me disgusted by the thought of anything that required chewing. It was raining and while I was praying to be home tucked under my blanket and was thinking of throwing them away I remembered the homeless guy who hangs out at the light by the mall.

I've never been one to give money to the homeless because my first step-father used to always say that you never really knew what would happen to the money. He taught me that if need be, I should take the time to buy food and give people that. So this is something I've always done.

On Saturday, on the way to my training seminar, I stopped by Dunkin Donuts to get coffee and there was a guy outside asking for money. I ask him what he wanted as I intended to buy him breakfast and he said that he would rather have the money. So he got nothing from me.

Today, I had my cookies and I thought of the guy by the mall and I drove slowly until I found him. Thinking of Saturday's experience, I was reluctant to offer him the cookies (these days I've found that Miami people in general are weird) but then I did. He said yes, looked at them and smiled and said he wished he had something to drink with that so I gave him the bottle of pomegranate juice I had in my lunchbox (yes, I carry a lunchbox!). He took my hand, said thank you and smiled at me.

He reminded me a lot of the guy who "lived" across the street from me on the steps of a school on 85th Street back when I used to live in New York. His name was Jack. He was a veteran. He told me stories in exchange for soup late nights when I was coming home from work. I hope that Gus has had the opportunity, or even the desire, to hear them or that if he is no longer there, may he be somewhere where he doesn't need to trade his life for soup....

This morning I felt so incredibly sick but he made me feel so much better. He made me feel glad that I didn't go to Yvette's so that I would have those cookies to give to him. And I was glad and thankful that at that very moment, in the rain, I had a warm place to go to- and that I didn't have to get wet.

And at that moment I felt blessed and cursed at the same time. Because I can't imagine that it is a blessing that some have so much more than others....and with that disparity comes guilt. Because you never know. The world takes a lot of strange turns and that could be you or me and you would hope that someone would be nice to you and yet most people won't.

It's a sad world we live in.

Annush's words of wisdom v. 2.0

(brought to you by 2 Nyquil and 2 Contac downed with TheraFlu)

so if I'm dead tomorrow morning, we'll all know what killed me...blame MS the realtor for that one.

Lying is a bad thing and people should steer away from such behavior especially when it involves other people and it could hurt someone else. If you MUST go out and do something (or someone) you shouldn't be out doing, think about it long and hard before you do. If you find that you must do it anyway, do it in such a way that you don't get other people involved, make other people look bad, cause people any grief, or that people who live a gazillion miles away don't get to hear about it (namely, ME!) because if it gets this far you know that it's not only allies (namely, ME!) who are listening...

Karma is a bitch...and do you really want someone doing behind your back what you are doing behind theirs?

Love actually...

Today I found this post in one of my favorite blogs and it reminded me of this article I read the other day when I was dropping Nic off at the airport...so much truth in both dspite the fact that one talks about love and the other about sex.

So I started thinking, fairly globally though becauseI had both the post and article as reference this time, about a question that I have been asked repeatedly since I started this blog and felt the need to bitch repeatedly about someone I should have ocassionally sang praises to...

the question: Why are you so into HWMNBN if he is such an asshole?

I always chose to ignore this question because you know what you know and sometimes it's hard to answer something one can't even answer oneself. Maybe because it doesn't sound pretty enough, though often times it is because those moments that count aren't easily described. But just now, reading this, I think I found the answer and in the hopes that nobody will ever question my affections ever again (which they better not because it's none of their business) I will tell you this:

Love is inconvenient and that day at the Delano I didn't exect to fall in love; yet I did. Ocassionally I wake up unable to breathe or to someone kissing my shoulder and I think that there is nowhere else I'd rather be. Sometimes I have arguments over my eternal need to eat and then sometimes when I am pissed off because spending a Sunday together implies that I have to be woken up at 7am I think about that argument and smile. I think about obscene amounts of money spent at the hairdresser and then an hour later ending up soaked because being wet (no pun intended) is simply fun and then there is, of course, that issue about ESPN when all you want to do is anything but.

...but when I am unwell (though it may be his fault) and I need taking care of, there he is.

I think about the bad but then there is the good which is so much more. SO much more intense. And it's easy to point fingers and say "it's him" and when I think of our history, I am not so sure. Before it was me, then there was him, then now nobody knows but it's okay because I dont' want any more than I've got. I like to be fed stuff I don't eat like those beef empanadas that kept me sick for 2 days. There is a certain comfort in finding a random email reminding me that I am "la nina bella". Even if I know deep down that I may not be.

Perhaps we don't have the perfect relationship, and maybe we never will. Maybe he'll find someone better or I'll find someone better. Either way, despite the fact that we've hard our issues and that we've both wished that the other was with someone who could maybe make them happier, or simply that we had never met, I know that our lives when intertwined they are good; and drama or not, even when I know that right now I'd much rather be alone, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Update...

the concern is no longer a concern.

one less thing to worry about...

What's this world coming to?

I swear to God, between Astronauts going psycho, socialites selling their sex tapes to Vivid Entertainment, weird patches of dry skin and random people I have never met saying that I sound ghetto fabulous (I still can't get over that one!) I am just not surprised by aything anymore- Not that I ever was, but still.

I can't imagine what we have to expect from our children! (and not even the fact that I'm actually worried about this surprises me!)

My parents were here and they left. Now I hear that my mother is sick and I'm all kinds of bent ou of shape because I'm not with her, even if only to bug the living hell out of her. In times of crisis I am functional but sometimes the only way I can be useful is by making my presence be felt and despite the fact that this is a situation where I can't be of any use whatsoever, I just wish I were there.

Though lately I've found that wishing is a powerful force, sometimes it just doesn't get you were you need to be. Wishful thinking creates but it doesn't fix things.

So now I find myself in a bit of a jam because I have a whole lot to be happy about and thankful for but between my mom's health and that one concern that's going to be haunting my existance for the next week or so, I am finding myself unable to enjoy all the things I spent a good chunk of the past few years wishing for. Not that I would have anyone to enjoy them with but still... it's a crazy world...just when you think your ducks are in a row God feels the need to go bowling with them (I can only hope he/she misses).

Be careful what you wish for...

...because it just might happen.

I now have everything I said I needed.

The question now is, do I still want it?

yum!

To that firefly who has lit up my life!

I wish I found the courage to call you and to say just the right the thing. Death is a terrible thing and I am obsessed with it, and I talk about it all the time; but I don't know how to even address the fact that you lost someone important to you.

I haven't called you...yet...

I will...eventually...

But just because I don't, please don't think that I don't care or that I love you any less than I have told you I do. Loss is just hard for me, especially when it's somebody else's...

Somebody who is incidentally very important to me.

I am so sorry friend...really. I am.

This is Nic in all her glory...

...me making fun of my future roommate :)

"Fussball is the devil"

I hate tourists. Tourists suck. When tourists flock to a place for a specific purpose, they suck even more. The Superbowl is the devil.

Need I go on with this?

The Superbowl is this weekend and Miami has slowly but surely started to get taken over by tourists. Miami Beach has been invaded. And then there is me, just trying to get to work on time, just trying to drive home, just trying to live my quiet little existance and not doing a very good job at it. In all seriousness, it's like the football freaks are everywhere.

Have I mentioned that I am not really into football?

I think that this weekend I am just going to buy myself a DVD player, rent a few movies and stay in bed. I kinda wanted to go check out Miguel Migs on Saturday but Nicole is leaving so once again I will be officially out of party friends. I NEED NEW FRIENDS! I suppose I could go to the party by myself and make some party friends while there, but it's not the same...*sigh* And last night we went out and befriended some really nice guys; however, they are all CPAs. Enough said.

I hope things start to look up some...
-------------------------------

Note to Self: A frozen lasagna will take like 10 hours to defrost. And no, the microwave doesn't really work for the defrosting purpose.