| FUCK. |
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| 12:14am 11/02/2009 |
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I don't care
that it has been
over two months since it happened,
or:
almost two years
since we had seen each other -
everything
still
sucks. |
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| Curtain Call |
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| 05:30pm 19/03/2008 |
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Everything is good.
I have nothing to say.
I have used this journal to rant about my life, to vent about the problems I had or thought I had. This has been a forum for me to discuss all of the minutiae of life, and largely to bitch about whatever failed attempt at a relationship I was currently struggling to suffer through. This journal has provided me with an outlet for all the feelings of inadequacy, the frustrations of (un)love, and the humiliation of my fall from grace.
What I'm trying to say is that, over the years, this journal has meant a lot to me. But I don't need this anymore. When problems arise, I sit down on my couch with Mike and talk to him. When I'm happy, I tell him. When I'm sad, I tell him. He is a living, breathing livejournal, and even more: he's fantastic in bed.
I have changed. I have moved on. I will leave you all with this shocking quiz result (shocking to those of you who knew me in New York), and some final words (soon to be etched into my skin) below.
"L'important, ce n'est pas la chute; c'est l'atterrissage."
"Ideally, if anything were good, it would be indescribable."
Goodbye. |
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| 10:47am 25/02/2008 |
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I cannot wait for the summer time.
Gin and tonics, shorts, bicycle rides to the beach.
I'm going to ask him if we can take a full week off and go stay at my parents' summer house. That would be excellent.
I want to play tag with the surf and only eat things that have been grilled. I want to catch a lightning bug and read in the sun. I want to be thrown into the cove and have swimming races to the rock "that looks like a cow". I want summer to come. |
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| 09:17pm 08/02/2008 |
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My boyfriend is baking chocolate cakes.
Life is good. |
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| 02:18pm 02/02/2008 |
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RIP The Guy On The Couch
So about a month ago, Michael and I got a Beta fish. Well, he wanted one, so I went to the petshop while he was at work one day and brought home a little weirdo who didn't want to move. His name was The Guy On The Couch, because he was lazy and pretty much immobile 24-7. Apparently there was some kind of inner turmoil, because TGOTC committed suicide last night.
I just found him on the floor. My sad, sad little fish. Mike couldn't believe it; he borderline thought I was kidding. But no.
He's gone. He was a great fish, a lazy little bastard and we loved him. RIP TGOTC. |
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| 03:12am 30/01/2008 |
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I'm going to bed now, but I thought I should take a moment to point out that these days I am very, very, VERY happy, and nothing can change that. And considering the fact that nothing can change that, you might want to stop trying.
I hear double snoring in the other room and I love it love it love it. My eyes are getting droopy and I have an arm to slip underneath and a dog to snuggle up to. Three-way spoon. Happiness is a warm puppy and a warm boy.
Also, today I got part of my material inheritance - my mink hat and my French white leather gloves (3 pair!). My Shreve's silver is at the Gloucester house but I'll be getting that soon. The wedding dress was beyond repair, and the matching mink stole was too moth-eaten to salvage and the only remaining Gurgling Cod Pitcher was broken, but the Shreve's silver cocktail set might end up coming to me after all, so all in all it was a good day.
Tomorrow I will write for thirty minutes at least, because I plan on finishing a first draft of this novella by March first. I've got to pick up my birth control pills and do some finance work. I have the soup kitchen tomorrow night and possibly a hair appointment during the day. I also must must must see Emma Rose at some point, as she's only home for another week.
Everything is so wonderful right now. Stop trying to ruin it. Just let me be happy, for once. I fell down from a Brooklyn roof and landed in a Back Bay apartment on my own two feet, and I hope you won't take this the wrong way when I say I never could have imagined this kind of happiness in my old life.
Things that I want (right now):
An emerald cocktail ring
A Speedy bag (my MJ is worn)
A pretty dress and a night out to wear it
To be ten pounds lighter
To find a better job (that one's in the works)
More time with Mike
Another Monopoly night, and maybe this time we can even play Scrabble
A manipedi
Water (too lazy to get up for it)
A nice cup of tea (too late for caffeine)
Kisses, both human and canine (getting them in a second)
I hear the sheets rustling, so it's water, bathroom, bed, rearrangement of arms and paws, kisses, and sleepytime.
GOODNIGHT! |
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| 01:09am 21/01/2008 |
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Also, things are prettier now than ever before.
The sun isn't scary, and it doesn't burn my retinas. Spending a whole day on the couch doing nothing isn't a waste of time, it's a break from the real world. Mike is taking a week off in February just to bum around doing nothing, and although I'm working my butt off trying to find a new job, it will be nice to know that, for that whole week, when I'm not working we'll be together.
I got my grandmother's pearls restrung. The woman at Shreve's looked at them and said, "I think these are originally from this store," and I kind of rolled my eyes because please, my mother's side of the family is just about as Boston Country Club as you could imagine. And I'm building a relationship with a personal account manager there, because you can never be too connected when it comes to estate jewelry and gurgling cod pitchers. (I'd like to get one in every size.)
I am finally done denying who I am, which I have been doing so fervently and for so long that I've barely had time for anything else. I am a proper Boston girl, and as such I have no accent (unless my tone of disdain when discussing Dana Hall Girls School can count). Because of unforseen financial strains, my inheritance will never consist of what it was meant to be, but I can certainly work my ass off making sure that I keep my place in this world. I was born to this.
Oh, and I would like to point out (briefly, I swear) that a certain grandiose building on the corner of Arlington and Newbury has lost all of its appeal, charm, and class. I will be the first to admit that the new Ritz Carlton towers on Avery Street are beautiful, and as a matter of fact I pretty much lived there for two months before Mike and I moved to Back Bay, and the Bolens' apartment has the most perfect views ever. But I am not here to lament the end of the Ritz Carlton Corporation's good name. They remain to this day a good, well-run, elegant company and I wish them no harm. The Taj, however, is trash. Coco Chanel is rolling over in her grave thinking of her hard-earned brand languishing in such a display of tacky extremes. Such a monstrosity had no right taking over the Ritz Carlton's old digs in my neighborhood. First of all, I've seen photos of the rooms, and I refuse to think that anyone would spend so much money to stay in such a gaudy, nouveau-riche environment. While I have refused to actually set foot in the establishment, I can't help but imagine that the ballroom must be draped in equally poor taste. Now, generally, this wouldn't bother me, but to be perfectly honest I always dreamed of having my wedding in the ballroom of the Ritz Carlton and now, as there is no suitable location in Boston, when the day arrives you will all be traveling to Martha's Vineyard.
That was quite the rant. Mike went to bed about an hour ago and I'm going to join him. Tomorrow is laundry/baking/mother-daughter day at the Malyszko-Hughes loft and I need my beauty sleep.
But first, a question: I'm considering getting my underarms botoxed when I get married, as I've heard it prevents you from sweating. Anyone have any more information on this (bizarre but necessary) subject? |
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| These days... |
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| 12:55am 21/01/2008 |
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For the record, you may read or not read as much of this as you would like. It is a vast work in progress, and I just need to be sure that I don't lose it when our Microsoft Word trial is up.
It's cold here. As in, button and snap that winter coat up all the way to your chin and tuck your head inside the collar like a turtle because no one likes a girl with a chapped face. As in, wind that comes around your shades and runs gloopy mascara rivulets into the seams of your Diors. As in, wear jeans to work and change when you get there because if you want your epidermis to continue sticking to your legs you won't dare leave the house in a skirt.
Yes, it is cold here and the last time I was so cold it wasn't just January wind tunnels that kept me shaking all the time. As in, back in New York, where I was so lost. As in, waking up alone in a double bed in an apartment somewhere in Chelsea with no pants and no idea how you got there (thank god for good friends). |
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| 05:42pm 28/11/2007 |
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I just got fired for no reason. It sucks. I hate everything and can't stop crying, and I want to go to sleep and never wake up. |
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| 05:55pm 26/11/2007 |
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Saturday was wonderful, just simply the perfect playdate. We got lunch, and walked around the city, and went to Tiffany's, and went to see a movie with his siblings and their others. Last night we all went to dinner at Sel Natick for Mike's mom's birthday. It was all so very wonderful.
I love him so much. It's heartbreaking and beautiful and it hurts but is wonderful all at the same time. I want our future to start NOW, but hey, it is starting now, yeah? I can't wait to give him his presents on Christmas.
He's going to do a rabbit tasting menu for me when I want to come in. YAY! I love rabbit. Mmmm rabbit.
Week and a half till my twenty-first. Fuck yeah. No. 9 Park and champagne cocktails all night long. Taking the seventh off so I can have a playdate with Mike again.
I'm in such a good mood; nothing could spoil this one.
MNF and SDLT yummies. Good Monday night; no case of the Mondays here. Peace and love babies nsrsly |
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| 10:21am 20/11/2007 |
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The snow is so beautiful. I don't event mind the office today. I can type up all my contracts while looking out the window (yay for touch typing) and in my head I'm hearing "Let it snow" and "Winter wonderland". Tonight I'm going Christmas shopping with Shannon and last night I heard "Silver Bells" for the first time of the season. Still gets me every year. Mike has Saturday off which means we get a playdate. In the morning I might come in to work to help Lydia decorate for Christmas, but we'll see... staying in bed with him sounds so nice. Hmm....... Career day or wintertimeblanketfortressmorningsex? I'll probably go for the latter.
I've already decided what we're doing on Saturday. We're going to look at the Christmas lights in Downtown Crossing and we're going ice skating on the Frog Pond. We're getting peppermint hot chocolate. We're making snow angels (maybe, if there's enough snow). We're making gingerbread cookies. We're making out.
I just want to get back in bed with him. I just made a baby pterodactyl noise, and I'm sitting in my office alone. I must look insane right now. Hmm.......
Ok time to do real work. (Maybe.) But the snow makes everything more intense, and I just want to put this out there: Love plus snow is incredible. |
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| 09:36am 19/11/2007 |
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Scratched my hand. Not sure how.
Not the girl I used to be and not yet the one I want to be. Kind of in limbo.
More in love than usual, maybe it was the couple of snowflakes this morning that did it but oh my I want to be snuggled in bed telling stories and kissing.
Would rather fight with him than make love with anyone else, hey hey.
Didn't get my Tiffany's date, oh well oh my must talk to best friend soon, going insane without her.
Had a nightmare my inbox was flooded and instead of catching up on emails just kept getting more and more, couldn't check them fast enough, wonder what it means.
When I get home tonight I will give him space, if he wants, just sit in my PJs watching MNF, drink a Diet Coke. Will do whatever it takes to make it pretty again. Anything at all. Love him more than I knew possible, feel like there's a knife sticking in my ribs, wish Cosmo didn't try to talk to me.
Must make today go by quick. Must must must.
My parents are back from Paris, I am jealous, it's not fair. Miss that city, miss the way I feel there, had it here for a little while and want it back. Give it back give it back.
No seriously. |
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| 05:40pm 13/11/2007 |
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There is nothing I love more than telling him whisperysoftjustus secrets when he's asleep. The biggest and best one I told him last night. And I can't write it here or it would ruin things, but part of it is that when I look in his eyes I see Paris. And that, my friends, is just about the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.
Tonight we're going to watch Donnie Darko and drink wine, beer, smoke cigarettes. I am going to kiss him on the part of his forehead where his eyebrows furrow and make a line, he will kiss the scar on my chin. Everything is so wonderful right now. I can relax. I can smile. I know what I'm getting my baby for Christmas, and it's lots of different little things but the best one, OOOOOOOOOH the best one, is going to be absolutely incredible.
Peace and love, babies, peace and love nsrsly |
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| 09:33am 08/11/2007 |
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Last night he said, "We're nothing like we used to be." And he's right. And we talked about it, just lying on the couch together, noses touching, fingertips to fingertips and so close that he could probably hear my little heart beating its strange, irregular rhythm. And he's sure that I'm not happy, and I told him that no, no, he's wrong. He says, "I just feel like there are times when you don't want to just hang out at home, when you'd rather go out, be with other people" and I say are you kidding?
I held his hand and told him that when I said that coming home and just hanging out with him was the best part of my day I wasn't lying. He promised to remember that. Promised not to try to find problems with us, you know, because as I told him it's easy enough to find little things to get upset about without looking for them, and frankly this is too important.
"I'll try not to sabotage it" he says and brushes my hair out of my eyes. The dog pants and "It's too important, because this is it" and we watched a movie and held each other by the fingertips the whole time.
In other news, as lame as it sounds sometimes just looking at him breaks my heart. Just lying next to him on the couch, or like the other night when we played hangman for hours while watching Monday Night Football, or when I take one too many bites of his dinner and he holds his fork at me like a dagger, sometimes I just see this idea in his eyes and I can't stop myself crying a little. I didn't know what it was like to honestly, completely love someone more than you've ever loved anyone. It's overwhelming and it's scary and it's so perfectly beautiful that sometimes it actually hurts. And it's safe.
In other news, Kate and I finally have a playdate this weekend. I'm excited excited excited. Brunch and Tiffany's. Maybe some shoes too.
I need a winter coat. Walking to work in just a suit, well frankly it's quite a bit too chilly for that these days. They put the tree up yesterday at Macy's. It made me smile and laugh my little kid laugh that Mike loves. I want to make a gingerbread house TONIGHT but I'm going to wait until December actually comes. Also it's going to snow this weekend, and I hope it snows enough for me to get just one good snowball.
Mmmm let's all laugh at Maeve's obsession with Christmas, this time of year makes me miss my jackass friends a little, mostly because Salzman always used to laugh at me for it... Whatever. It's almost Christmas NO SERIOUSLY!! |
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| 09:21am 07/11/2007 |
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Ok, so admittedly I've changed. And yes, I wear suits now. And yes, I'm settled down, with a boy who has no piercings and who doesn't dye his hair more frequently than I do. And yes, I spend weekends gossiping with my close girlfriends and eating lavish brunches and getting my nails done. I'm not too ashamed to admit that yes, I do often go to Tiffany's and Louis Vuitton to windowshop, and I'll be the first to own up to the fact that I'm more comfortable in a rugby shirt and miniskirt than in a concert t-shirt and spike heels, and you can get on me all you want about Blue Blood New England, but I'm happy. Really, really happy. And I just want to say, to everyone:
I LIKE MY LIFE, THANK YOU. |
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| 09:13am 05/11/2007 |
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My mother's advice when it came to our fight was to spend the weekend nesting. To gain a Stepford complex, to be a homemaker. And even though I didn't take her advice, because frankly I'm just not that girl, everything is better now. It's all back to normal.
Yes, yes, everything is back to normal. Except that he is absolutely dying of the flu. Last night he slept on the couch while we were watching the Simpsons, and I started whispering secrets to him. When Family Guy started, I stopped talking and watched the show, but as soon as I moved my lips from his ear and silenced my crazed murmurs he started tossing and turning and so I kept on confiding in him, tiny things that I keep as secrets just for us. Little secrets, like how profoundly and totally in love with him I am. And how when I'm with him I feel like nothing bad could ever happen, and that everything I used to think about, all those silly, trivial, painful things I went through before seem as far away as the football games at someone else's college. It's all over now, and I am done with it, and I have grown up and matured and even though it's scary, I think I might hang on to this feeling for a long time.
On being a grownup: I have separated myself from the people and things that were holding me back and dragging me down and I'm proud of it. My sister is out of my life forever, and my days of staying at the bar long past last call are over. I have dreams, goals, a future planned out. He's part of all of it; we want the same things. There will come a day when we open the doors of a tiny Boite restaurant and show our family and friends what the opening menu will be, and then soon after that we will show Boston what it truly is to dine, not just to eat. Some day I'll see our daughter graduate from Winsor in a white dress, on the fields by the tetherball, and whatever buildings they will have added to the school by then and whatever changes they will have made will seem unimportant when I walk in and see that the Seniors still paint their homeroom every year. Some day I'll be surrounded by two other Winsor women and two girls from my other worlds while I stand, all nerves and Lolita perfume and whiteness, just outside the threshold of the rest of my life.
I think that might be where I'm standing at the moment, to be honest. Just outside the threshold. He talked in his sleep last night, every time I paused to take a breath, just talked talked talked and I know he doesn't remember what he said to me on that couch. But he reminded me that he loves me, and clenching up his face he practiced saying something that on Thursday I worried he would never actually get a chance to say. I am so happy these days that sometimes when I think about how much I love him I actually want to cry. I almost do. They would be tears of relief, really, relief that I finally let my guard down, albeit for half a moment, a millisecond really, but apparently long enough for the most amazing person in the entire world to slip in undetected.
I only wish we could just be together always. Flesh on flesh, even if it's just two fingers loosely linked, or my ear to his chest listening to his heartbeat. That is when I know that he is real, and that he can't be taken away from me, and that I really will be with him for the rest of my natural (and even, possibly, unnatural) life.
nsrsly |
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| 09:18am 01/11/2007 |
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It's officially Thursday. I am so excited for the Christmas season I could bust. Before I get there, though, there's alot more work to be done. Taylor and I have been brainstorming millions, I repeat MILLIONS, of issues we need to address in our meeting with Paul and Andrew. Such as: It is fucking stupid for her office to be far away from mine. Rather, let's just put another desk in mine, get rid of some of this worthless junk that I have lying around, throw another computer into the mix, and let us share the office. It will be a million times easier that way, I promise.
Business cards, business phones, email accounts, salary, telephone lines, schedule writing, and title definition are among the pressing matters at hand. This meeting might take hours, who knows, might take only a few minutes of our time.
I *think* I found what I'm getting for Mike for Christmas. Ohhhhhhh, if only Christmas could come SOONER this year! All this waiting around to give him his present is quite LITERALLY going to torture me. I'll have to make a few calls to stores, might have to go to NYC to find it.
Last night he almost ended it with me. It's a long story. I couldn't stop crying and I still can't. If I lose him, I won't know what to do. He's the only person I can be with. The only one.
Things will be better when I get out of work. I know they will, because they have to be. We're going to spend the rest of our lives together, we just need to get through this.
In unrelated news, the soup kitchen was dreadfully understaffed last night and I hope I never go through that again. |
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| Oh and by the way... |
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| 11:14am 22/10/2007 |
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A guy just called to make lunch reservations for today. We happen to be closed because we need to repair a dining room window. When I told him we're not open but we will be tomorrow for lunch, he ACTUALLY said, "Oh, CHRISTMAS!"
Like, as if it were a way of swearing at me for being the bearer of bad news.
Honestly.
"Christmas".
HAS EVERYONE IN THIS WORLD GONE MAD?!! |
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| Oh captain, my captain! |
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| 09:16am 22/10/2007 |
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... Or maybe more like, Oh rookie, my rookie!!!
God bless baseball. I've been really sick for the past week, but the presence of the postseason (and the Sox' domination of games 5-7) has definitely made me feel a whole lot better. So has Mike.
Think about it this way, people. You can tell I love him solely based on the fact that I use his name when I talk about him. I'm not ashamed of him, not nervous for people to know about us, just happy happy happy all the time. Sometimes I want to go outside and just scream out how much I love him. Don't worry though, I won't.
(Sidenote: I can't believe I forgot my brioche at home today. I'm hungry. Damnit.)
He asked Kate to help him pick out a ring. I've started wearing my ring on my right hand, you know, to be prepared or whatever.
(Sidenote: I have to go do wine inventory. Hopefully I go for lunch at around 1:30 today. I might not make it much longer than that without caffeine.)
I feel so sick I want to die at the moment. My throat feels like it's bleeding. Make it stop please.
"HI KIM!!!"
Dream team shirts (at the moment):
Kim - "Can my shirt have long sleeves?" - long sleeved shirt (clearly)
Me - "Slammered, you know, it's like the lovechild between sloshed and hammered" - short sleeved
Mike - "My phone just wants to party." - short sleeved
I've sent the fax I needed to get out. Now all I have to do is finish up this email (crazy lady refuses to believe me that her group simply WON'T FIT in the private room she's requested. She goes, "But we did it last year. I mean, it was only thirty people instead of forty-five but I don't see why you can't make it work." What do you want me to do, lady? Make the room, in Boston's most historical landmark restaurant, bigger JUST FOR YOUR GROUP? I don't think so) and then do wine inventory till I pass out. Then some receipt collating, sociopath emailing, and then lunch. Mmm, bagels.
dipset, nsrsly |
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| Let the games begin |
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| 09:52am 11/10/2007 |
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Oh, Holiday Season, how you torment me. Arriving fifteen minutes early to the office today, I was somewhat less than thrilled to find my inbox teeming with requests for private events in December. Don't get me wrong, Holidays, you are still undoubtedly my favorite time of year. But come on, give a girl a break. Can't I have ten minutes to enjoy my cup of coffee before shooting off emails to Californians who have to be here for a medical conference? To Canadian travel agents whose clients' names are virtually impossible to spell without access to a full range of accent marks? To scum-sucking politicians' event coordinators who just have to have their little Christmas extravaganza in the Camus room and who cares if it's already booked?
Ugh the work keeps piling up, and it might be nice if the Maitre d' spoke English without a molasses-thick Italian accent, because I just missed three phone calls trying to figure out that he was saying, "The party last night left flowers and a sign, and someone is here to pick them up." WHAT THE FUCK.
I'm not in a good mood at the moment. Please don't fuck with me today.
Mmm but in six hours I get to go home to him. OH and also the cutest little Japanese lady called me just now to confirm a reservation. So now I'm slightly less surly. Except now I have to pee.
Nothing to do with the Japanese lady. I've just been overdoing the caffeine intake today.
nsrsly |
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