stolen
I have no internet. So I have been hand writing my entries to keep myself sane. At the moment I'm at moms checking email as I wait to meet Cat and Kraven at the airport!
Below are my slightly neurotic entries from the past week.
1/15/09
It's cold.
As January takes it's sweet time exiting the vacinity, a frigid, unbearable cold front seems to be hovering over this blissful shitty island I call home.
It is so cold the seagulls are no where to be found. Their usuall habitat (the Taco Bell parking lot) is now a vacant birdless tundra.
Winter makes me grumpy. My grumpiness could also be caused by my three week mentruation period.
I pity any soul who crosses my path when I run out of chocolate and Diet Coke.
I had "one of those moments" this morning. This can also be referred to as a Quarter Life Crisis.
The trigger to this episode is unknown.
It could have been the bags under my eyes,
or the way my hair was sticking up at some alien like angle.
It could have been my chapped lips.
My ears my have looked a bit bigger than usuall...
I was also breaking out terribly. Turning me back into my very awkward pre-teen girl self from back in the day.
What cause this crisis, I may never know for certian. But soon I was in the dephs of a full swing Quarter Life Crisis.
What am I doing with my life?
Will I ever do anything exciting?
and when the fuck did I begin to look so old?
am I doomed to be a psychotic house wife for the rest of my life?
Like all Greeks- my grandparents and mother are terrified that I will never be married.
What if I never get married?
What if suddenly I'm 40 and I'm living in a one bedroom apt. still on Long Island, with 30 cats?!?!?!
Getting on the scale did not help.
I decided shortly after to go back to bed until I regained my will power to go on with my day.
1/18/09
Getting in the Inoguration spirit and offering up an opinion on the economy.
As I sit here eating Crung n' Munch and looking at the cover of today's paper, I can't help but wonder...
is our economy even salvagable anymore?
Does any young person have a chance at independence if they don't have a shit load of money coming in from their upper middle class parents?
Should we all just jump ship now?
The more time passes, the more I thinking moving to Canada and applying for a Visa is a pretty good idea.
1/20/09
the undeniable dilemma
The Curse of Suburbia has struck again!
Women in suburbia always put themselves in the most awkward of situations. Females on Long Island suffering from The Curse of Suburbia tend to get all hyped up whenever anyone pays them even the miniscule amount of attention.
That's right. I said it.
Whether you are willing to admit it-accept it- whatever you want-
Long Island females are attention addicts.
Look at these bored, middle aged, respectable housewives. Why do you think they have affairs? Why do they sacrafice their husbands, family, hard work?
My theory is that they simply become entranced with the attention they get from their lovers. It's a new feeling of affection, attention in the form of physical desire.
Almost like.. "This is wrong but I'm going to do it anyway because your paying attnetion to me and not your XBOX."
Wether you like it or not the longer a relationship goes on, the less romance there is. In most cases. I'm in no way speaking on behalf of every couple out there. It seems as if guys seem to forget about intimacy and romance once they realize they've established a solid fuck schedual.
So the question remains...
Is infidelity created from boredom?
From lack of romantic motivation?
I'd believe it.
This could be why very few Long Island relationships actually last.
You may get married, but divorce is almost inevitable now a days.
You see, boredom is the foundation of suburbia. In this crazy, little ever changing, never constant world, one of the only consistent things you can rely on is "boredom in suburbia"
This has become the only thing we the people can count on the never change.
1/17/08
Is anyone content with their lives?
I have become so boring that the highlight of my day is buying sour cream at the Quick Stop, and picking up my perscription at CVS. Hell I may even get to fight with the pharmacist today!
I am a housewife at the age of 21.
A slave to routine & repetition.
Enter: The Curse Of Suburbia
more specifically know as The Curse of Long Island
The theory is that is you do not leave the island when you go away to college...
you will never get out.
You will forever be trapped in a life filled with convenience stores, unsucessful excersise routines, and self-help books.
The Curse Of Suburbia can be contracted by anyone over the age of 18, or anyone who had graduated high school.
Dont get me wrong, twenty years ago I'm sure Long Island was a rgeat place to pop out your kids and raise a cute little family.
But times have changed. Obvisouly.
As the "late 80's" generation hits 21 alot of them look around for about sixty seconds and realize "Holy shit I'm 21 and have done nothing with my life!"
After those sixty seconds, said 21-year-old with blink their eyes and either realize someone is handing them the pot or their mother is calling them in for dinner.
Please don't think of me as some Jaded, high-and-mighty type person. I'm just as bad as anyone else.
In October 2008- a not so distant three months ago- I myself turned 21.
Suddenly it's the end of January and I seem to be having some sort of Quarter Life Crisis.
I have lived on Long Island my whole life. Aside from being born in Nassau County I have live my entire existence within the bowels of Suffolk County.
I have horrible skim, I'm short, my hair is some strange red, brown, blondish colors, and I've bitten my nails since I was seven. I don't own a pair of high heels, I don't get manicures, and I don't own any fancy stylish clothes.
Reading magazines like Cosmopolitan and Vogue make me feel like the most plain, unattractive creature on the planet. I limit myself to one magazine purchase every six months to conserve my self-esteem. Whatever's left of it anyway.
I have an iPod, and a computer. I'm on Myspace like it's my job. And just like everyone else (wether they are willing to admit it or not) I hate this pathertic little shit-stain-on-a-map we call home.
In a place such as this, with no hope and no possibility, I guess I can't blame my age group for loosing theselves in pot, cheap beer, and shitty harcore music at the local VFW Hall.
If you are determined enough to leave New York all together I suppose it is possible to leave and never come back. But actually getting the point where you have enough money to leave....
now that's the tricky part.
11Am
Inauguration Day 2009
Sayville, NY
The heart of colonial house, cute dog, picket fence, stay at home mom, suburbia.
The old women are running around in their fur coats and zebra print pocket books. Drowsy from their Valium induced slumbers they order their egg sandwiches and ask for their coffee black.
Every TV in the country is tuned to Washington. Is Obama really our last hope to salvage this damaged country?
Can you imagine the pressure?
The guy seems genuine enough. Solid plan, good ideas, a nice public image. Maybe he will change everything? It’d be nice.
It is still colder than hells freezer outside. Whoever named it ‘global warming’ was an idiot.
Oxymoron’s are not amusing when it comes to planet deterioration, in my own opinion.
------later that morning
It feels strange to be out and about at such and early hour. In a town so different from Mastic.
Sayville used to be my second hometown. Between Max, Jared, Allie, and the Modern Diner, most of my days used to be spent walking all over this small, upper class town.
Runaway Bay Books will be gone soon. The best job I ever had. My favorite book store. Going out of business much like every other small independent book store stuck in the shadow that is Borders and Amazon.com. I haven’t gathered the courage to visit and say goodbye. Everything must change. Such is life. But it still sucks.
My head is fuzzy. I haven’t taken Xanax in a long time. I forgot the beautifu calming effect it has, aside from being in the throws of a terrible panic attack three hours prior to taking it.
Despite the sleeping arrangements (Allie and I sharing a twin sized bed), I slept surprisingly sound. It could have been the pot, or the xanax or both, or the fact that Allie does not move at all when she sleeps (unlike my boyfriend who I usually am sleeping next to). Either way- I was out cold.
Unfortunately by the time I calmed my mind enough to actually do the passing out, it was 5am. I was under the impression that I was meeting a friend for breakfast however I have now been waiting an hour and a half with no visitor. I just spent the last of my quarters on a huge can of iced tea/ lemonade. Perhaps I never had the conversation I was so certain I was having last night? I didn’t think I was that out of it. It could another one of those psychotic episodes. I could be loosing my fucking mind.
I don’t feel crazy. Then again I could be past the point of recognition.