Let's begin again.

Wow. I have not written in a while. Guess I was quite distracted in December. It was probably the Christmas shopping, the 60-hour work weeks and a blossoming romance.

Or maybe I was just lazy. Surprising, I'm sure.

I'm typing this at my roommate's computer because my laptop is so on its way out that it came back from the dead to spit on my lap. Plus, the keyboard is more like a Ouija board than anything else. I cannot believe I just spelled Ouija correctly on the first try. Somebody award me something. Quick.

I'm not sure I enjoy this new writing environment. For one thing, Jordon has a huuuge mirror next to her desk. Obviously this is forcing me to stop after every thought and stare into the glass quizzically, fakely pondering life and pursing my lips like Carrie Bradshaw.

I'm also not hopped up on anything. That includes -but is not limited to- regular coffee, decaf coffee, natural high from Bridget's ridiculous daytime e-mails or alcohol. I did, however, just brew my own garlic hummus. Hooooly hell did it taste fantastic. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I might never go store-bought again.

Still, I've chosen an old Norah Jones album to compliment this writing sesh. God, my hair looks shiny in this lighting. It's like a Pantene Pro-V commercial over here.

I'm back. This song is so dreary I just had to look out the window to make sure it wasn't raining.

Is this thing on?
I'm talking to my mike.

So, every year I sort of make a New Year's resolution for myself. One big attainable thing that usually is directed towards changing a part of my personality that needs improvement. Last year it was just simply "to relax." Now, I don't like to use the phrase 'epic fail', but let's just say that might have to be a rollover resolution for 2010. I mean, I did relax about the whole concept of not knowing what I want to do with my life and being stuck in a dead-end job for now while I sort shit out/make money. In that sense: success. In other ways, like romantic relationships and friendships, well, I'm still learning.

On to this year. I actually began working on 2010's resolution on December 30th. And for the record, it totally backfired. But still, no regrets. Because I put fears aside and did it anyway.

The resolution for '10 is Take more risks.

And I don't mean little baby shit risks. I mean, life-changing, can't-look-back, fucking-go-for-it, all or nothing risks. Essentially, go big or go home.

Why do I need to take more risks, you might ask yourself. And my question to you is do you know me and why are you reading my blog. Because if you knew me at all, you wouldn't have to ask. But if you do gotta aks, it's because I'm almost a quarter of a century old and death always seems way too close. Right.

What else what else. I need to lose weight in my face and abdomen by January 16th. That kind of thing. I need to find a new job and then quit my current one. I need to find a voice teacher that is a woman. I need to audition. I need to drink less. BLa bla bla bla.

Man, I wish I won a Nordic Trak. In a church raffle.
There are so many things wrong with my fantasies.

And now, FYE (for your enjoyment), I give you two top ten lists.

My TOP TEN FAVORITE MOMENTS in NEW YORK in 2009!
10. Asking Lin-Manuel Miranda if he wanted a slider.
9. Jordon and I's first unlimited mimosa brunch in the Village.
8. Throwing Allison's futon out the window of our WaHi apartment.
7. Certain summer days in the city:
7a. the afternoon on the Great Lawn with Tim & Allison
7b. Brooklyn public pool with Bridg & Casey
7c. Long Beach day with Casey & Co.
7d. sunny shopping day in Soho with Jdo, even though I was so sick and puked after lunch
7e. Mark and I's strange little outside brunch in WaHi
6. Pride day with Randi.
5. Trying my first cookie at Levain Bakery.
4. When my catering crush said my name for the first time and grinned his boyish smile at me.
3. Cheryl Halloween party.
2. Purchasing my iPhone.
1. The long Italian dinner and drinks with my mom outside on a beautiful NY September night.

My TOP TEN WORST MOMENTS in NEW YORK in 2009!
10. The epic 5-hour catering gig at the Met Life building when I exited the sweep in a confusion, served my own table dessert and consequently almost got fired.
9. Being publicly humiliated/screamed at by a woman for yawning with my mouth open on a crowded morning 2 train.
8. The mouse in our apartment pooping and crawling on my prized grill pan.
7. Unexpected ass massage at Vada Spa on Valentine's Day.
6. Sharing a sesame pancake with that dirty musician I dated for one date.
5. Losing my dream apartment at 81st and 2nd.
4. Cell phone going off while I was eating a humongous turkey sandwich in a 9-person writing class.
3. Losing a live water bug (read: horse-like) cockroach in my bedroom.
2. The Oregon Trail-like blizzard journey in Bushwick I traveled to get to Casey's 25th birthday party.
1. My one-year anniversary day working for my boss.


I suppose it's polite to wish my readers a Happy New Year. However, currently I feel a tad bit bitter about 'happy' new years (give me 1 more week), so I'll just urge y'all to take more risks this year! Let's all go get the shit kicked out of us by . . . life.

By the way, I have a theme song for this year. It's "Don't Stop" by the Brazilian Girls. I'm a little obsessed. That, and with all these John Legend CDs I got for Christmas.

I'm off to clean my apartment for my evening guests: best friend from high school and his lovely girlfriend! UNT

"Never Cease Dreaming." -my StepDad

Recently I decided I am going to publish my old LiveJournal entries. Privately publish, of course. While I kept numerous tangible diaries over the years written in my ladylike handwriting, I also happened to regularly record my life online on a journaling site called LiveJournal. Now, technology has taken online journaling to the next level in that you can convert all your old entries into .PDF format and even choose to publish a book from the file! Actually, this has been going on for a while, but I only discovered it last year after an epiphany and a decision that I needed to somehow find a way to record all those ridiculous musings from when I was a teenage. I kept an online journal from sophomore year of high school to senior year of college: can you IMAGINE my crazed diary from that time range? EEK. and. OI. and. yesssss.

The point I'm getting to here is I happened to come across an old entry that amused me and made me feel like at least I'm getting some of my goals accomplished from my past.

Lend me your eye and behold:

November 17, 2007

My Mood was 'Anxious' and the Music of Choice was 'Alanis'

So.

When I move to NYC.

First thing I'm doing with my new york boyfriend is going to an authentic jazz club.all smokey and swankey-like.

and I am going to wear a tight black cocktail dress, drink a cosmopolitan, and thank the lord for being alive.

Well, the only contradiction I found with that little blurb was the word 'smokey'. Why did I even want it to be smokey? As a long-time allergy sufferer, I am positively confuzled at my own desires. Perhaps I wished there was a fog machine there. Maybe I thought NY jazz clubs were foggy. No, actually, I'm sure I was imagining that jazz club scene from the film Dream Girls. Because Hollywood always paints an accurate depiction of New York. Also, I lied. I found another contradiction. Drinking a cosmopolitan. Clearly again, I was influenced by something I was currently watching on the television: Sex and the City. Even though in 2007 I knew I hated the taste of Cosmopolitans, I was apparently still trying to pretend I was my favorite fictional character of the time [Carrie Bradshaw].

Still, that entry has come true since then. Better than I imagined, as New York sometimes seems to do to me. It's interesting to me that in 2007 I was actively planning my big move. Ever since I was a little girl I had always wanted to move to a big city, and barely knew about New York City. But it wasn't until I first visited that I was sold. Then I went on a doubtful-Chicago binge, as we all do. But I remember the day I decided I was certain I was moving to New York. Jordon and I were fucking around in my professor/mentor's office [Rob] as we did, looking at something on Rob's computer. I remember being behind him and him asking us what was the point of waiting or 'wasting time' in Chicago if I knew I wanted the end result to be life in New York. I didn't really have an answer. Up until that point, I had been very comfortable with the idea of spending time in the Midwest only to gradually move my way up to New York. Rob said, "If you want to do it. Just go. Or else you might never get there." Then I had that epiphany when I realized I had nothing to lose. And, I hated the Midwest. I walked into the main hallway of the auditorium and thought, "Welp. That's it." There weren't any negotiations anymore. Not my ever-friendly naysayer friend who once said, "I think Katie should wait a couple years after college before she tries the big city." Right. This coming from a person who moved to Manhattan when he was 17 years old. No ifs nor buts, bitch [me] was going.

And I did. And I thought I was ready for New York to rip me a new one. Hahaha, I was wrong. I don't think anyone is ever ready for someone to punch them in the face, titty twist them and then kick them squarely in the arse. Because that's what NY will do to you . . . on a good day.

And yet, I'm still here. With no plans of leaving any time soon. Chuckling at old journal entries of naive little me dreaming away as usual. Stomach rumbling for a boring lunch at my boring job. But still not defeated. I moved to this city with the hopes that my skin would thicken and toughen a bit. And I feel it happening. Not enough to close me off from the world [with proper maintenance and consistent reality checks and occasional visits to the Midwest], but enough to become a determined fighter. As I've mentioned, I am very scrappy.

Button.

In other news, this Pandora Christmas station sucks a big one.

I'm craving the bold hits of the 'NSync Christmas' record.

With that, I take leave from yar.

UNT.

You are open like an open-faced sandwich. I am closed like a closed-toe shoe.

Finding the Netflix in my house is always like an Easter egg hunt. A really annoying Easter egg hunt where sometimes you never even find all the eggs. Or sometimes your roommate sent the eggs back to the Netflix company because she thought you watched them already.

I wonder if my landlord would allow me to house a pellet stove in my living room.
Is that a fire hazard? I mean, I know it's essentially a cage of fire.
But is it hazardous?


I'm sneezing.

I just returned from a 6-day trip to my homeland: Michigan. I touched a turkey's taint. Or grazed it lightly with my fingertip. Whichever you prefer. I brought my Nana some flowers and had a delicious lunch with her--full of many lunch meats, various cheeses and nutty homemade brownies. I ate my Grandma's stuffing. Two helpings at the Thanksgiving meal. Later that evening on a turkey sandwich. The next day for lunch. And later that evening for a snack after bottles of champagne and wine that I politely shared with my best friend of almost 10 years. I visited my family's favorite Japanese steak house. Yes, I had filet. How can you even ask such a preposterous question. I of course had to stop by my grandpa's restaurant with my step-dad for a light (okay heavy) breakfast. And I may or may not have overdid it with the Thanksgiving remix at my Aunt's on Saturday. If by overdid it, you mean two different types of stuffing, three glasses of Cabernet, pecan and pumpkin pie, biscotti, and all the other usual suspects (turkey, green beans, salad, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, rolls, etc.) But nothing truly compares to today. Dare I even put it in print--er---the blogosphere . . . okay, I'll just say it. My name is Katie and today I had breakfast at Hardees and lunch at Arby's (Mark's fault, I mean choice).

Basically what I'm pointing out here is my obvious virtue of self-discipline.
what.the.WHAT?!!

Anyway, tomorrow it's back to the daily grind. My stomach will cry as I whip her back into shape and try to shrink her size over the course of the week. Is butter a carb? Just kidding. I know what butter is.

I'm trying to resist the urge to get a bagel tomorrow. Every time I see the Empire State building from a distance, my mouth waters for a NYC bagel.

I don't think I'm very good at ESP because I just tried to will two different people to call me. So far, nothing. I ate some peanuts while I waited. The peanuts were good, thank you for asking. I think my telepathy needs some practice. And my telekinesis. And my photosynthesis.

I have to go before I get carried away. On a platter.
But mostly so I can go look at something that doesn't remind me of food.

To all my American readers, I hope your holidays were stuffed with cheer and gaiety.
Here's to the beginning of the December holiday season . . .
UNT

p.s. I feel sorry for tofurkeys.

Give me my money back, you bitch.

For all you Midwesterners or my mother out there . . .

I will now provide you with a little insight on apartment hunting in NYC.

and specifically, why it is a crock of shit.

In Michigan, my brother lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with a pool and brand new appliances, etc. etc. for $600/month. And that is not 600 each. That means the rent is $600 total a month.

Here's a picture of what you could have for a 2BR for $800 in New York:

they called it the 'fixer upper' apartment.

charming.

Here's one that baffles me to no end.

A 2BR for $1650 in the 'low 90s' on the Upper East Side.

They actually posted this stunning picture of the apartment:

Yes.

Where do I sign?

And does it include the tea kettle?

On a final note. It's the Dominican Republic Parade/Pride day.

One can only imagine my excitement.

As if it's not difficult enough to sleep on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday of the week in my neighboorhood, I'm sure tonight will just be off the heezy.

And since calling in noise violations obviously doesn't work, I've resorted to my own personal passive-aggessive method: it involves blaring my Borat CD on my stereo in my bedroom and turning the NSync "No Strings Attached" CD on in my DVD player in my living room and putting it on as high as it can go without busting the television speakers.

So far, nothing has happened as a result. It just gives me more hearing loss.

You would think people woudn't blast their music at least on weekday nights, but seeing as how not many people seem to be employed around here and the babies never sleep because they're usually working long shifts dealing drugs, I don't get too much shut eye.

F. I gotta get out of this 'hood.

Anyway,

I gotta go figure out what the hell is clanking around in my steam pipe . . . hopefully it's not the Rat King Conference of America's Annual Meeting.

But if it was, I'd immediately tell Casey all her dreams came true.

UNT.