heavenly creatures...

I have always worried about being a bad girl. Not that I feel like I am a bad girl; however, this is a bit of a paranoia I have.

No matter how open I may be, I like to keep a bit of privacy. and when I don't, I like to be open under my terms.

I sometimes act and react to things as if I were a little girl playing dress up. Even when people look at me and think that my child like enthusiasm is that of someone with nothing but good intentions, on ocassion I do things. Stupid things. Though at times these stupid decisions are brought about by the aforementioned good intentions.

Sometimes I build things and I destroy them. I love more than I'd like but I don't think I know how to express love properly. Everything has to be measured by a second opinion, by a change in perspective and I react depending on how people react to me.


I went to spend time with someone.

I wanted him to like me.


And ultimately he did.

I think.

But when I should have been at my best

I was at my worse.


I think I behaved very badly.

Though ironically, I don't feel much regret,

Maybe embarrasment...

mostly because it was brought to my attention.

To everyone's attention.


Ultimately though, I only went to see him.

Platinum!

As children we learn the colors. I don't know about other people, but as a child I was able to recall the name of every color the fine people of Crayola came up with. In a way, I guess you can say that as a kid my life was colored (mostly within the lines-sometimes outside of it) in shades of blue violet, bright red, burnt orange and the like.

Then, of course, I grew up.

My favorite color is still purple (or pink) but the outline of my life can no longer be filled by the pretty pastels. They are cute and all, but violet red and yellow green don't cut it anymore. Now I require colors that are not even that fun to look just because they are more practical.

My very first credit card was navy blue. I dont' rememeber who issued it or what the limit was, but I remember the card and it was navy blue and it was a problem solver of sorts. It solved problems in the following way: if I ABSOLUTELY HAD TO HAVE something, it helped me get it.

Fast forward about 13 years and the same remains true except that now the navy blue card is no longer blue. Now it's a funny shade of gray- manatee if you will. It helps me buy stuff but it pisses me off to owe money so I don't use it much. This card spends more time sitting in a drawer than it does in my wallet.

Oh but the others!
(and there are many others)

In an attempt to keep my expenses under control, the other day I had a talk with my financial advisor (my brother) about whether or not it was ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to have a Platinum card. In my mind a card like that was an added expense. In his mind an investment. Knowing that I know very little about money, after listening to his dissertation on the economics of credit cards I relented.

All I have to say is THANK GOD! Even sitting in a drawer next to its lowly friend the blue card, that card works wonders!

The other day I had access to a bunch of AWESOME Madonna tickets just for having the card. The tickets came to me. No card physically required. Right now I could be sitting outside of an airport in 200 degree weather waiting for God knows how long until the fine people of American Airlines decide that it's time for our flight to leave. But I am not! I am sitting somewhere super awesome, with a glass of a yummy cabernet, free internet access, and have access to all kinds of goodies and fun stuff just for having the card.

I love the card.

But now I feel myself getting greedy...even if I don't ever use it or I get it as a fluke, now I want the Black card :)

Tonight @ WPB...

I have had a ticket for months...
I know it's a huge venue...
if only I could bring myself to go...

To be better...

I HAVE SOCIAL DISEASE.

I HAVE TO GO OUT EVERY NIGHT.

IF I STAY HOME ONE NIGHT,

I START SPREADING RUMORS TO MY DOGS.

-Andy Warhol

Apparently people care that I haven't been writing these days.

I have actually been considering quitting the whole blogging thing and focusing on sharing less of myself and doing more things for myself. Taking care of business as one would say. But you know, it's kinda hard to quit when the experience is so cathartic. And to be quite frank, I need that sometimes.

Last week I went on a cruise (obviously not the one that sank). I spent seven glorious days exploring the ports of Cozumel, Grand Cayman, Montego Bay and Lavadee (for the fifth time). On the most part, it was good. But oh! the hangovers! Funny how when at sea drunkenness helps you preserve your balance and 15 drinks only feel like 3.

But I've since stopped that- the drinking that is.

I've been giving it a lot of thought and I've come to the conclusion that I need to control my drinking. Perhaps I don't drink so much that it should be considered a problem; however, in the past couple of weeks I've fucked up royally because I've been drunk.

I lost HWMNBN- this time for good because my judgement was impaired. And I could blame him for buying my drinks or for steering me in the wrong direction or for making me forget things that feel good to remember; but in the end, the one trying to keep up with him was me. The one who thought she was invincible was me. The one who believed she was right because "it felt right at the time" was me- even though I may have been dead wrong.

I worked so hard for something for so many years, and I lost it in 10 minutes.

Maybe I needed this to put an end to this whole ordeal. I just wish it hadn't ended as it did.

-------------

For those who care, I've now been alcohol free for 5 days.

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.