enough

i am leaving for puerto rico today.
originally i was there to tell some people i love them. you know, to remind you guys.
i was there to celebrate a birthday and an anniversary. i was there to eat.

instead i'm going to determine how i want to spend my summer.
i'm going to assess the situation, and then try to do everything i wanted to do there when i first planned the trip.
of course, to prep, i'm listening to "Vivir Sin Miedo" by Marc Anthony and La India. just cause i'm really lame.

i'm trying to play things by ear, take it one minute at a time. it's a little strange.
but the fact of the matter is, at this particular moment in time, i do not want to talk to most of New York. i just want to go and see things for what they are.

also, i have started the rotation at the hospital for which i joined this program in the first place.
so, really, even though the shit is kinda sorta hitting the fan at home, at the very least my decision to leave my job and start over has been confirmed in my heart as a good one.

goodbye, wiki wiki

my ipod crapped out on me, once and for all.
he decided to end the 4-year relationship because he was tired and weak.
he was also sick of my obsessive nature.

no more arranging playlists by neighborhood.
no more mood-altering song changes.
no more dalai lama at work (which had already been did done, since my last day cubicle-ing it was yesterday)
no more fun.

he not only left me, but he decided to delete all my music with it.
what a vengeful bitch.
luckily i'm an expert at backing that thing up.

either way, this breakup has made me violent.
i was almost arrested by a Bed Bath and Beyond security guard this morning for attempted robbery.
that bitch had one of those sleek black rubber cases on her spankin' new video paramour.

thanks for kicking me when i'm down, Cris' Pod.
i knew you'd leave when the money was gone.
asshole.

the road just rolls out behind me

she's sick.
she's sick and it's getting worse.
she's sick and it's spreading.

he's sick.
he's sick and it's getting worse.
he's sick and it's making her sick.

there is no shame in speaking heart.
there is no shame in fear.
there is no shame in feeling a loss so thick i can touch it.

i do not mope.
i do not wallow.
i feel and step forward.

i guess we've said what we needed to say.
i love you i love you i love you.
this is not goodbye.
we do not know how things will change.
this may not be it.
this may be it.

never alone.
never fear.
never anything but better.

me too.

Yes. Yes. Yes Yes.

it's like '99 all over again.

now that i'm a student again, my main source of fun is procrastination.

my #2 is making fun of people on the Whole Foods checkout lines.
#3 is watching all 4 hours of "The Drug Years."

i think 2 and 3 are part of 1 though.

ANYWAY.
To Do:
1. haircut. haircuthaircuthaircut.
2. compile a list of stuff i want to spend my last paycheck on, vs. things i actually will spend it on.
3. plan Vieques. and by that i mean get island-body ready by thurday.
4. get a plant-sitter (!)
5. find better mofongo recipe. and re-try that fish "recipe" i made tonight that tasted craptastic. basically learn to cook stuff other than rice. (and meat, but that goes without saying)
6. stop telling people about my obsession with PR protest music. wouldn't want to get profiled by the CIA for being anti-American.
7. move on to a new Super Nintendo game. It's not gonna happen for you, Cristina. The Lost Levels are just too hard.
8. reevaluate apartment hunt.
9. kick out the reason no one wants to take me in. this means you, dachshithead.
10. stop trolling the internet and do some work, dammit.

oh, and WTF WTF WTF WTF STOP IT!

i am human

the biggest lesson i've learned this year is that i have much more family than i thought i did.
so even if i think i will be left by myself to carry on tradition,
there's a whole other clan i belong to.
one i hope to never lose.

sometimes, i just hate new york.

my housing situation for this upcoming year was already iffy.
there was a potential apartment-sharing situation in the works.
as soon as that person and i decided maybe living together wouldn't be such a good idea, and as soon as i realized i really do love my apartment, and have made it into my home,
as soon as all that happened i got my new lease.

and my rent was raised by almost $150.
$150 fucking dollars more a month.
last year they raised my rent $20 a month.

this year, almost $150.

at first, my beautiful mood (that has lasted months!!) was shattered and i bawled like a tree being lifted at the roots.
then i realized this is just a reminder that i have to practice what i preach.
this apartment, this block, this neighborhood, are neutral objects that has no emotions attached to it other than those emotions i CHOOSE to attach to it.
i should look at this as an opportunity to get a bigger space for me and my pup.
a new place to make beautiful.
a chance to save some of my loan cash and use it for groceries (beef).
a chance to have people come over, and not feel like we're cramming into a cubby.

i think this can be ok.
this can be good.

breathe. it's ok. it's just an apartment.
it's just chelsea.

i am a little heartbroken though.

ay ay ay

i miss Puerto Rico so much i can taste it.
i spend my days listening to Fiel a la Vega, Marc Anthony and Roy Brown.
i go home and write scribbles about where i'm from, who we are.
i miss the sounds on the streets.
i miss not being the only one yelling for no reason.
i miss speaking Spanish, and not Spanglish.
i miss our passion.
i miss our customs.
i miss our nature.
i want to go back to the place where we're all the same because we're all impossibly different.
and i needed to say that. even now, even when i had to sneak out of class to say it.

I Lied Again.

I'm addicted. Whatever.
An onwards: I think it was my boyfriend who said....
Sounds Like an Average Saturday Night

Large black man on cell: So, I figured out what happened. Ebony was at the drug house with the first lesbian, but then that other lesbian that she stole two dollars from came. So that's where you came in. And....hey? Are you there? Mom? Mom?

--Penn Station

via Overheard in New York, Jun 20, 2006

see you when i fail

I'm on a diet.

i'm stupid.

my favorite part about studying tonight is finally opening up the $123 dollar calculator i was once about to return (i aint got no cash, yo!), and realizing that it comes with a 400 page text book that is more complicated than the fucking math i need it for.

i wonder if i can program it to tell me how exactly i can convince Medicaid to give me free health insurance. or maybe it can tell me how to lose 10 lbs. OR maybe it will pay off my school loans!!

i love feeling intelligent for becoming unemployed and debt-full by CHOICE.

things you can tell just by looking at her groceries

1. recycled paper towels: "wow, she must be really environmentally conscious. i bet she's also a vegetarian."
2. 3 different types of deodorant: "umm. she goes to the gym?"
3. 2 organic chicken legs: "i guess she likes dark meat? maybe she's just TRYING to be a vegetarian."
4. 4 separate packs rib eye steak, 2 steaks per pack: "vegetarian my fucking ass!"
5. i large strip steak from the butcher: "this is borderline sick."
6. 1 loaf of whole-grain bread: "well this is healthy."
7. 1 pound each turkey and muenster cheese: "forget healthy. this bitch likes her meat and cheese."
8. 3 bags terra blue chips: "who buys 3 enormous bags of blue chips!?!?"
9. 2 boxes Kashi:"this is her trying to make up for the fact that she got 14 lbs of beef."
10. whole milk: "borderline heart attack, this one."
11. 2 bags pistachios: "i guess she just likes nuts."

i love Cat Power

even/especially live.

now that that's said, onto today.

despite the fact that i have lived in this apartment for 2 years, it is not until the time comes to leave it (of course) that i discover that my *outdoor space is absolutely amazing.
at this current moment, santiago is out there, running around in circles, and barking at Ray. i am in here, typing away, while keeping my ear out for dangerous noises (yelps, poop hitting the floor, chewing). the sounds of 23rd street are in the distance, my homework is spread out across the table outside on the **terrace, and in my head, the apartment is cleaning itself.

life is great.

* by outdoor space I mean the airshaft we all share, that my neighbor has so gracefully pimped out and turned into a garden/coffee shop/places for all our dogs to poop.
** my reality is what i make it, right? then i have a terrace.

coffee and commutes

I am addicted to coffee. It's a fact.
For this reason, I decided I needed to scope out the best spots for iced coffee that would be on the way to the places I go ever morning (be it work, to volunteer, or to class). Starbucks is not an option.
My findings are as follows:
1. If I am willing to take a massive detour, I could go to 71 Irving. I am rarely EVER early enough to go there, so I knew I needed more options. However, 71 Irving is always always always incredible, no matter what I get. Bonus points for having tables and chairs I can study in at night.
2. If I am on my way to St. Vincent's, there is Champignon on 22nd and 7th. Doesn't look that special from outside, but their iced coffee is amazing. Total cost: $1.50
3. If I am on my way to work at 111 8th Avenue, I walk 2 blocks further down 8th, to 14th, and hit up The Sweetheart. It's my favorite place on this list. Total Cost: $2.00
4. If I am heading across 23rd, to take the 6 up to Hunter, I always manage to stop at J'adore. The best part about my trips to J'adore is that the only time I go to Hunter is at 7am, and the place is open and empty. No lines, no bullshit. Just damn good iced coffee.
5. If I am making the treck to work at 49th and 8th, I make a tiny detour into Murray's bagels. Ri-DONK-ulous coffee. Bonus points for excellent bagels with light plain cream cheese and tomatoes.

I think I could go for Murray's right now.

"you can't outthink the thinking machine"

after a particularly emotional day, i took a walk that accidentally left me walking into Books of Wonder. immediately my migraine seemed to lift slightly, simply because i was in the presence of the books that shaped my life as a child and adolescent. i ended up acquiring an Encyclopedia Brown book, which i devoured within 20 minutes of getting home, and ordered the entire Anastasia Krupnick series, along with another Louis Lowry book that i often still refer to in my head (The Giver).

i got home, and after i had solved every mystery in "Encyclopedia Brown: Boy Detective," i took a much-needed nap. by 9pm, however, my headache was back in full-force. even Anastasia can't save me from scheduling and family issues.

ANYWAY, at that point i decided that since book therapy had helped me so incredibly this afternoon, i needed to do it again.
enter barnes and noble, and Paul Auster.
i can confidently say that there is no living author that means more to me at this very moment than this man. he is my later-year Judy Blume, my Louis Lowry of 2006, my Joyce Carol Oates of today. if i saw him on the street (he lives in Brooklyn), it would be the most embarrassing moment of my life, because i know i would act like a Hanson Fan circa 1996.

so of course, because i can't do anything without it becoming an obsession, i went ahead and wiped out the 66th street's B&N's entire Paul Auster section. because that's how i roll (and by that i mean i need to drown in someone else's life right now).

so now, i'm 20 pages into "The Book of Illusions," my migraine is calm and stable, and i've got some chicken in the oven and some f-ing reading to do. my phone is off, my ipod is out of battery, and i have succesfully alienated myself from everyone and everything. it's just me and you, Paul. i love you.

zzzzzzHUH WHAT? SQUARE ROOT OF 2!!!!!!zzz

because it's so early and i have already washed my hair, picked a not-too-terrible outfit, and thrown on some tinted moisturizere, i've been having crazy flasbacks of a time circa my graduation from college.
one of the first jobs out of college i had involved my leaving my apt. around 7:30, so i could make a 7:40 train that left Allston and got to downtown Boston by 8:30am.
at the time, the earliest i had been getting up was probably around the noon dawn hour, so it was a big (although totally normal) change, and i spent my entire time there bitching about my commute (although the job was pretty horrific too).
i used to try to be in bed by 10, and would always wake up right after (my love at the time) Matt left for work (his job was even worse than mine was).

the whole point of this little trip down memory lane is that even today, when yea yea yea i'm tired and yea yea yea i got like 2 hours sleep, my bloodshot eyes and pounding migraine are just a reminder that this time, i chose to do this, and once i get coffee in me, it's rather fun, so quit your bitching, bitch, cause this is really not bad at all.
and so this week, when i meet up with a friend of that same horrible job, i know we'll spend the first minutes (or hours) of our meetup discussing how much beeing Adlerfied changed our lives.

oh Boston, I miss you.

welcome back. now proceed to bend over.

i think i need a math tutor.

el abayarde le mete al zun zun

you know what a raging Friday night consists of this week?
grinding to Tego
spilling beer and allowing Santiago to lick it up
studying for my math quiz
yelling at my drunken friend through IM. [who uses that anymore but us?!? no one.]
guitar torture
ordering contacts on 1800contacts
talking to my financial aid company dude for a little while
buying wee wee pads and pizza
filing
and finally, the best thing i've done tonight is:
watch the Lindsay Lohan version of the Parent Trap,
and CRYING.

uh. yea.