"and really, you just injured my pride."

I spend a lot of q.t. with Pandora. We spend hours a day connecting on the Long Island Railroad. I'd like to think Pandora knows me pretty well by now. This morning, it decided it wanted to cheer me up.. and played the following.. (and I giggled. Good going, Pandora)

Hey Boy
Why you didn't call me?
I waited for days
I can't believe you didn't call

A. You're gay
B. You've got a girlfriend
C. You kinda thought I came on too strong or
D. I just wasn't your thing
no ring

Hey Boy
Why you didn't call me?
I waited for days
I can't believe you didn't call

When we sat outside for an hour at the party and talked
I thought something good could be starting
It's not a lot that I want
just some talking
and really, you just injured my pride

Hey Boy
Why you didn't call me?
I waited for days
I can't believe you didn't call

Susan said that maybe you're scared
Shelly says there always is a reason
and Chris said you're probably surrounded by girls and I'm just not one of them you're needing

“Women who insist upon having the same options as men would do well to consider the option of being the strong, silent type” - Fran Lebowitz

Later that day, I started thinking about options. Have we created too many options for ourselves, allowing us too much room for error?

...Okay, I'm no Carrie Bradshaw. But I really did start thinking about options tonight. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was me nearing my 26th birthday in a few days. Maybe it was neither, or a combination of the two (does it really matter what it was?). Maybe we've put too much emphasis on all the happiness we could be finding "out there" or doing what we've "always dreamed of," and not enough emphasis on finding the happiness in what we already have. Maybe we have too many options and too many opportunities to find "something better."

Online dating, for example. I guarantee that most of these exchanges would OR would not take place if these people met in a bar or through a friend. We are given pages and pages of postage-stamp-sized pictures to sort through. If he's not quite our type, there's a very good chance someone 2 inches taller AND with more hair on his head is on the next page. The short baldy we bypass may very well be the one that would charm us in a bar. But, with so many options, we don't take the time or effort to thoroughly give each postage stamp a fair chance. This is clearly just an example. I think this goes for so many aspects of modern life. I may continue on this rant when I find my space bar (no, seriously.. it fell off) and when I awake from my wine coma. Think about this one in the meantime, kids. And stop and smell the roses sometimes.. just be careful not to end up like Little Red Ridinghood. I love wine.

Mangos make me itchy.

Hello! (to whom, I don't know.) I was just sitting here at work (yes, I have a new-ish job...well, internship), and I was googling my allergies. Quite productive, I know. But so many things make my mouth and throat horribly itchy, and as I sit here eating my Trader Joe's pack of mixed nuts and raisins, I had to know why. Turns out, I have oral allergy syndrome. Reminds me of that episode of Sex and the City where Miranda internet-diagnoses herself as a tongue-thruster and ends up with braces.. but NO braces for me. Been there, hated that. Couldn't eat an apple. Granted with oral allergy syndrome I can't really eat one anyway without the intense tickle that takes over my mouth and throat. Kvetch kvetch kvetch.

Where was I.. oh yes, my new job-ish! I have finally made the transition from performer to.. well, the other side of the business. I'm working at a talent agency, and I really am enjoying it. Of course I have the occasional urge to perform, but not as bad as I thought I would. MAYBE I'm on the road to supporting myself! That would be lovely, considering I'll be 26 in a few months. Ahhh. I have no doubt I'll be kvetching in my thirties too, but hopefully I'll move on to another set of life issues.. i.e. husband that won't put the seat down, somehow working and making dinner and giving birth all at once, etc.

Oh, another thing I think I should accomplish sooner rather than later- not living with my parents. Yes, I am back at home, friends. Between the moldy apartment and my intern "salary," it looks like I may be there for a bit. Hoping to find a living situation I can get excited about (and maybe afford!) within the next year. I also sold my car the last time I moved, sooo getting around at home has been a bit of a hassle. I do spend most of my time on the train commuting to work anyway.

I have one (maybe two..) friend(s) that I see at home. It's not the best social situation for me right now, but the work schedule doesn't allow for a ton either (more the commuting schedule). I may be alone for a while longer, but I figure that the right guy will come along when he's supposed to.. or something like that. Meanwhile, my dog is loving life. No snow, 3 other doggy friends in the house, someone home almost all of the time- barely a kvetch from him.. except requests for love or food. Hm. I also have many requests for love and food.

I wonder what my bosses think I'm doing right now. I'm sure I look hard at work.. especially with my glasses on. One boss calls me Tina Fey when I wear them. I wish. Tina Fey can at least afford lunch.

"Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about." - Oscar Wilde

Well hello 5 months ago! I always have the urge to write. I want to sign on and type about my stupid quarter life and the crisis it comes with. Sometimes, I'm flat out lazy. And sometimes, there's a fire and your apartment floods.

I was feeling very sad at the beginning of February. As usual, I felt like I was on a treadmill- working very hard and going nowhere (without the perk of all of those calories burned). After signing up for a dance workshop to kick my butt into shape, I was in slightly higher spirits. I decided to go to a zumba class on a Friday afternoon, and then prepare for a match.com date with a redhead (sigh) at night. Cheery me returned to my apartment to shower, and after a brief mishap with a pregnancy test (no worries!), I gave the bathroom over to my roommate. It was then that the two of us, both soaked from showers, saw darkness. Outside of window was black, with swirls of smoke. Other than frantic screams in spanish coming from the hallway, there was no other alarm or sign of what was happening. I grabbed my dog, his jacket, my jacket, and my bag, and we all went running outside. Fire. Big fire. And I was supposed to be at work that night, but one of the girls asked me to switch with her. I was there for my pup. And I was there while the apartment flooded once the fire above us was out. With the help of wonderful neighbors, the majority of our stuff was safe. Our amazing next door neighbors followed me into our drowning apartment in their rainboots, and grabbed as much of our belongings as they could. Heaven sent.

Anyway, the next month was spent commuting from Long Island to my job and workshop rehearsals, and washing the horrible moldy BBQ smell out of everything I own. Luckily, everyone and almost everything is safe. Bigggg pain in the butt, but that's about it. Now, the dance workshop is over, auditions are sucking, and I'm back to being the creepy girl who spends way too much time talking about and hanging out with her dog. My new boss came up to me the other night and said "You look bored. You need a husband." I hear husbands are quite entertaining, so if someone has a spare... Trying desperately to hold onto some hope over here, because my neck is achey from keeping my head up...