“Call me after midnight.”
“Ha! Yeah. Well, you know what they say about after midnight.”

“..No, actually I don’t know what they say. What do they say?”
“After midnight we’re gonna let it all hang out!”

YES, classic rock reference.

Thanks, The Shark 105.3

Moses introduced himself. He rang me up at 7-11. Then he asked if I have a phone number.

Across the street a homeless man said, “Excuse me…I love you. Look at you. You’re my true love. I love you.” 

Last night I had a dream I saw the Fonz.

7ish in the evening, pst. and thomas is over. we’re smoking a clear joint from a bong that is a duct taped mess…

it’s time for us to go to the kerry house and shoot some pool, drink a pitcher…a .25 cent game called erotica “phraze”

after which, we leave and go to baja and then smoke a blunt on the walk home.

thomas gets his bicycle and bounces for his phone, becky and i eat our tacos and retire to our rooms.

soon thomas will come back and we may or may not go to the starry plough.

[as far as buses go] I’m always on the wrong side of the street. Some days it makes me clench my jaw, tight, tight, as I powerlessly watch the bus take off without me. Other days I don’t care about waiting so much because I’m in no hurry to get home. Like today. I didn’t care I had to watch that bus go by, as I stood a crosswalk away. I knew I’d probably come home to ‘A’ acting ‘weird’ (read: indifferent?) towards me again. I keep telling myself it’s normal he should be acting like this at this time because I know how much is going on with him, but why I do feel like things between us seriously changed so much? I’m not saying the ‘chemistry’ is gone. I know how much he loves me and I him, but let’s just say things have seem to have gone awry (temporarily, God willing). That, or I’m blowing things out of proportion making my (disgusting) insecurity show. ‘A’ needs to show me he loves me; I need reassurance constantly. I think that must be a sign that he hasn’t completely won my 100% trust (because he changes his mind, plans so quickly?). 

I have hope for us, and it doesn’t feel like an empty hope. No one but me can see how or why, and I don’t understand either. Everyone with advice comes off as if they know more about ‘A’ and me than I do, but what do they actually know about any of it? Not that much at all, a mere iota of the puzzle. We’ve been through so much in the past 8 (!!) months together. 

Given the circumstances a lot of stuff weighs heavily, outcomes only determined over time. And though our relationship has had bumps, the fun we have together still outweigh even the worst argument. It’s comforting when I realize how many laughs we’ve had when we don’t even have anything (save for the internet) to distract ourselves from completely enjoying being with each other.

I pray to God we can continue to be honest, devoted and in love with each other.

Maybe every other city obeys the pedestrian signs on busy streets, uses crosswalks, but in Boston we just go. When we need to cross we need to cross. Trucks and buses in both directions? Guess we’ll make a run for it. I believe cold as a bitch winters have to do with this. Suffering in frigid temperatures and disgustingly windy rainstorms for six months out of the year really gets our asses moving to the closest warm indoors (usually Dunks).

Upon first moving to Oakland one of the first adjustments I had to make was to slow down, slow my roll, as the saying goes. In Boston being a model pedestrian just isn’t on the agenda. ‘Roll-slowing,’ if you will, was a rocky start. Being mindful of other pedestrians’ behaviors was helpful, as with each street I crossed, I came to realize I was the only one standing four feet into the crosswalk. The occasional honk gave me a good idea that it was a ‘no-no’ in my new city. Looking both ways and darting isn’t even something I do anymore. In fact, I’ll probably (shamefully) be a timid pedestrian when I revisit Boston.

They are halfway through re-paving the intersection of Telegraph Ave. & 40th St., which means there are no painted crosswalks yet, only the reflective, sticky-uppy things serving as placeholders. While waiting longer than usual at the bus stop, I noticed that the lack of painted crosswalks has given way to temporary disregard for the well-followed rules by pedestrians and bicyclists, alike. Bicyclists lackadaisically weaved out into the middle of the lanes, as people on foot suprisingly crossed wherever they pleased. It was a bit of a circus, a block party of sorts. And that’s why that was all on my mind (aka I’m bored of this now).

Bosses don’t realize how much they affect their employees. Sometimes their decisions change people’s entire lives. Their moods trickle down to everyone in the office. Everything they say, how they say it, it all matters. I think of how many people say they hate their jobs, and the boss they work for has a lot to do with it. How about a personality test to see how well future hires would work with the boss’ personality? Would we all lie or fail? In real life, does it matter what it says on paper? How about relying on the astrological zodiac instead? This method could work a tad better, simply because people don’t lie about their zodiac sign. Seriously though, it’s sad how much one mean boss can ruin a person’s life (temporarily, hopefully).

I have slept for about two hours, missing the hours of three and four, being woken up at five this morning. I still haven’t lied down. I came home and immediately hopped on the train to Powell Street with Becky. Carrot cake is being made and a veggie heavy pizza. Maybe our second collective roommate dinner ever.

Some girl or two moved in downstairs in A’s house. Before it was guys who were always out tossin’ around the pigskin in the outpatient parking lot next door. Now it’s these tatted-up girls in tube tops, the types who might have had pigeon hairdo’s about two years ago. They’re bbq-ing today so invited us down. Puke.

Is something wrong with me that I don’t like to talk to girls? I think it’s just these girls because they put off an air of cooler than thou. Give me a break. It’s like they look at me like I’m not hardcore enough or sceney enough. So we went to the store and got a couple Cobras, might go hang for a little with them later. A clearly sees how I don’t want to hang out with them but insists he likes to know his neighbors and that he was friendly with the dudes that used to live there too. I don’t even know if I downed that Cobra if it will help me play nice. I feel like a hanger on being down there. I don’t need to be there. Once we got back and sat down in his living room he said, “We don’t have to go down there. It’s not really that important to me.” I said, “No, it’s fine. We can go down there.”

UGH I’m sick of working. I worked all night last night on upping my stats. We lied on the field in the sun for a while longer than yesterday. That was nice but I just wish I had a bike right now so I could cruise around everywhere all by myself. I feel antsy and lazy at the same time. I have a bunch of things I wish I could be doing but I have no idea what they are. More park sitting? Iced coffee drinking? Playing in the city? I probably just need a day at the beach.

Just less than a week, and I will be a woman with some cash money!! I’ve never had this much money at once. And it may not be this much extra next time around, as the boss has determined some goals were way too easy to achieve. Still, he seemed impressed with us today. I am pretty psyched for this. That money better be in my hand on the 1st, just for the feeling of walking out with my paycheck plus this amont. Dolla, dolla billz, y’all. Forgot in my last post to say that I also plan on putting some money towards a (used) bicycle and its necessary accessories. Sometimes you need to be able to fly around town quicker than any bus.

A’s interviewing a rapper, so who knows when he’ll be around tonight. (one minute later and I get an update: He called me to say the interview went really well. I think I’m loving this phone convenience, even if he’s got a “hooker phone”). Typical PMS has made me go and order a pizza. I think I should buy a scale, or maybe I should wait until I’ve had a bike to ride around for a while.

Whenever I’m home alone I’m so antsy; I never used to feel so antsy. It’s hard for me to settle in comfortably when it’s early/mid-evening hours. I make up excuses in my head about why I can’t do laundry (lots to do, so lazy, no quarters,…cramps) and instead sit in the living room smoking a bowl, like “an adult” (semi-boring), listening to The Gossip’s Live in Liverpool. For a minute I had Jeopardy! on but then the antenna connection gave out.

What I’m really sitting here doing is thinking. Thinking about the conflict(s) in my life. I don’t want them there. Why do I feel like I have to choose one thing over another? Am I losing myself somewhere? What does distance really mean? I have no idea what direction anything will go in. I need to know. There needs to be assurance! So while I take a step forward with some, I’m simultaneously taking one step (at least) back with another. What’s a girl to do?

Read my horoscope and listen to MGMT, I guess…”Weekend Wars” is such a Stones rip-off song, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. “Electric Feel” is the sexy, electro-disco-pop song of the summer! One worth working up a sweat to.

My problem with blogging is that I think too much. I need to just go at it. It’d make me do it more, and it wouldn’t feel like work. Speaking of, thanks to my boss I got to see Jay-Z and Mary J. Blige from the 10th row, at the perfect angle to the stage, this past Monday. “Which car is more hip hop? The BMW or the Lexus SUV?” When his wife rolled up in the Lexus to pick us up from the dive bar close to work he informed her, “We’re gonna take your car. Brittany said it’s more hip hop.” He then went on to give his wife props for “lookin’ all hip hop.” She did too, in her black knee-high boots. With my printed hoodie I was going for the street hip hop look, no stilettos for me.

When we were downing our double drinks, I learned a lot about where things are headed with work. It’s pretty huge so I’m definitely hanging on to this job. The most exciting thing is that in a week from tomorrow we’ll get our regular pay, plus the extra at the end of each month (which I’m hoping should be pretty hefty, I mean I’d settle for just a $100 and it’s already going to be way more than that). Some purchases I’d like to make (okay, I should use some towards credit card debt): A FULL BED for a REAL WOMAN! (A real “ladycat” deserves nothing less, afterall, and I’ve been without a real bed for too long), a new digital camera, and some new clothes/shoes, because I’ve been in the same ol’ duds (more or less) since who knows when.

Pants just visited and it was a good time, but I spent way too much money. I realized how much I talk about my boss, and this means two things. One, work is life, especially when you can work from wherever, whenever. Two, I’ve already got a lot of good stories from partying with him, hearing things through the grapevine, and just dealing with him. It’s entertaining stuff, because it’s a unique kind of work environment, and I feel really lucky for it. I don’t know many other people in their office “career” job who can relate as much. It goes for every job, but you just don’t know what it’s really like unless you actually work there. Of course there are times when I feel like I’m fucking everything up or he’s being way too demanding or ADD, but overall, the good outweighs the bad (and the perks help too- monthly full body massages with a top-notch masseuse, free concerts and albums for my reviews, a Trader Joe’s-stocked kitchen).

Another thing on my mind lately is music; I never buy it anymore. I think this is why my taste in music is feeling so outdated. I have old favorites, cd’s accumulated when Mom was actually paying for it. They nearly make me sick to look at now. I want new, new, new. No looking back! I need soundtracks to launch me into the future!!! Up, up and away. I do have new (or new to me) favorite bands/artists, but I just don’t have their albums:

Hot Chip

Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy

MGMT

Wale

Sly & The Family Stone

Nick Drake

Rolling Stones

Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings

Estelle

Santogold

St. Vincent

Vampire Weekend (I feel like such an indie-scenester toolbag cuz of them, so I might start hating them soon, if they start becoming even more overhyped)

Dengue Fever

So yeah, I guess that extra bread will, in part, end up going towards some hefty music purchases.

I’m waiting for A to come over. I think he’s finally taking me OUT to dinner. We never go out, the closest we come to that is when he rides his bike down to the sushi place and brings back a feast for us (bean curds, mmm), which I think is so sweet. I can picture myself a year ago imagining my boyfriend and saying, “He should be the type who will go ride his bike in the rain to get me sushi!” It’s a tiny detail of a “requirement” I would come up, because I love sushi and boys on bikes. Tonight though…sushi out could be extra nice.

Pants is visiting. I took Thursday and Friday off to hang in the city with her. We met Dylan for lunch and ate by the water, walked up to Lombard St. Another day we walked to Hayes Valley, got chickaree in our iced coffees, left Dylan and did cartwheels at the Painted Ladies, before walking to Castro for my haircut.  Oh, and Thursday was such a shopping day. It felt good. I walked away with three madras-printed items. I love dresses.

That walking has tired us all out. We’re taking it easy doing our own things in Sonoma. Becky’s out front on the chair, Dylan’s cleaning up, Vanessa’s reading on the couch with the bizarre tilt, I just finished my Mariah Carey album review and emailed it. This was all prefaced by a Barefoot Contessa French toast recipe, cooked up by Dylan.

Last night it was bong rips and bowls aplenty, and a shiraz night-cap.