Jazz-band wannabes

I am so glad that school is over and that I can relax. even for just a day. I have an exam again on Monday, but I will be prepared. I refuse to stay up all night again. I'm still catching up on sleep.

There is a big improvement in the weather outside. I actually left my house and went shopping at Sak's. probably defeats the purpose of getting out, but I did buy nice jeans for a discount. But it depends on what you call a discount.

I am going to make an effort to study, but it is 2 pm already and I just woke up. Booooo I love Saturdays because I don't really have to do anything. I probably will do something though.

Why do I hear trombones and fucking saxophones? OH. Because there's a little jazz-band wannabe group playing on their deck next door. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

I HATE realtors (visiting my house every day)

I was wondering all day why there was a police officer just hanging out in the middle of the marsh chapel square. I'm not completely sure, but I'm assuming it was because (as I later found out) three school buses crashed or some shit. They just so happened to be blocking the interesections of every street after packard's corner. So the bus dropped us off and I was forced to walk the extra three blocks to my apartment.

The thing is that there were people randomly stopping on the sidewalk to stare. There was no one in the school buses and the ambulances all went by like an hour before. I even saw guys taking pictures of a school bus that apparently looked damaged but I didn't notice. I really hope they were reporters. I felt like I got home faster just beause I was passing by all these people that slowed to rubberneck. who cares, man.

this shouldn't be public knowledge, but the door to my apartment lobby won't shut behind you anymore. You either have to pull it shut from the stick that lacks a doorknob, or push it from the other side really hard. Most times, it won't even close with force from either direction. So i write a nice note for the door on some junk mail; it says: "Please close the door behind you. if you continue to leave it open, you risk your safety and mine." I go down to get food and someone had ripped it up... not only that, BUT THE DOOR WAS OPEN AGAIN. like, come on, can you make the extra effort to try to close it? you live here too. Anyway, the next step is going to the realtor, but they are so ghetto.

Alpha Realty: NEVER EVER LIVE IN THEIR HOUSE.

Don't give me that plague

I hate the feeling of a lurking sickness. Living with multiple people has its consequences; when one person gets sick, you're already on your way to having the sickness, too. Yesterday, Joey and I were complaining about how weak we felt (it doesn't help that I had to fight someone and broke my finger). Today, Joey was sick and I was not. Uh-oh. Now, like tonight, I'm all the sudden feeling that bronchitis cough that Joey has.

But it's not just my worrying that is making me think I'll get sick. Joey just threw up. I HATE THROWING UP. Last time someone in the house got sick, I was throwing up less than three days later. ALL NIGHT. Please, please, please don't let me throw up again.

I am a worrier, though. As soon as Joey told me he threw up, I got nauseous and immediately took a vitamin. He says, "If you already have it, you have it. There's nothing you can do." This is not the time for sicknesses to be taking over my control and attacking me from the side where it hurts. I have papers to write.

I usually take the advice not given

So I was all set to rant about how bus drivers suck and how I waited in the rain, but then I realized that I already did that last post. booooo. I will not leave you empty-handed, however, because I do have a small but noteworthy bus-driver error: today, as usual, the stop ding rang for my stop and I was suprised when a lot of people got up to get off there. Ok, great. And then the bus driver doesn't stop at the bus stop. I think he may have realized that there were a lot of people standing, so he stopped a block later. People grumbled off the bus like "what was he thinking" which is my response EVERY time it happens to me. He very well would have kept going to Kenmore if he didn't realize how many people noticed he skipped the last stop. What an idiot is all I can say.

I have had a lot of work to do as I'm sure everyone else in the freakin' world has had. I am doing very well at managing it compared to past problems. Since i my computer's (or shall I say old computer's) accident, I have been trying hard to take things a step at a time. This mainly means trying to tackle some papers before they're due. No success at all in terms of taking a step at a time in dealing with my anger management.

I'm really good at giving advice about pretty much everything. One thing I know is that I never listen to my own advice or I just can't figure out how to apply it to my own life. What has never happened before happened today: I realized that the advice I was about to give was something I could apply to my own life. What is more important is that I realized that my advice was wrong for me and for anyone else. But it was wrong because I wasn't giving advice; I was narrating to someone what I practice daily and what contributes to my anger problems. One step at a time is the answer. I think I finally gave myself advice (even if it was wrong at fist).

It's a sad day when bus drivers need to meet qualifications for the job

I've been so busy writing papers that I don't even have time to sleep. And when I want to sleep, I'm hyped up on caffeine from Pepsi. I can't drink caffeine, period. I should know this already. I drank pepsi two nights in a row and felt like everything alround me was blackening and yet my computer screen kept keeping brighter. Spots, the like. I just don't get along with caffeine. I really love the taste of Pepsi and ultimately it gets to me when I drink a whole 2 liter while writing a paper. I don't really like the way it feels on your teeth though. I used to think it was just Coke that coats your teeth. but ew. Soda is just unhealthy.

No sleep, lots of Pepsi. I feel done for the night and for the week so it's going to feel good to sleep tonight. I kind of don't know what to do with myself though. It's pouring and I almost want to go out to the store because I'm bored. I think I'm just so happy to be done... I've been doing this for a week and a half. grrr.

I stood out in the rain waiting for the bus for 40 minutes today. One passed me, half full, seats open. another passed out of service. What an asshole. I almost planned on telling the next bus driver that the one passed me. I got on and people looked at me weird because I looked so much more drenched then everyone else coming in. my hands were wet and couldn't even hold on. so I press my stop and it dings and says "stop requested" and then he doesn't stop. UNBELIEVABLE. so I yell "can you stop the bus" and he stops a block too late. I really can't believe this transit system. I did get off the bus saying "you are a fucking idiot" but I didn't have to say it because he must have some idea when he's getting paid minimum wage.

Growing up is hard to do

I don't know when or where it happened, but I am a person who punches walls and throws cell phones when I'm angry. I used to laugh in the face of my best friend's little sister who is pretty much "insane," but more and more, I'm starting to realize that I'm pretty crazy. I have my reasons though, and it's not like I hear 15 voices in my head, one of which includes the Devil.

I guess it's kind of weird but I totally believe in PMDD. I've been watching commercials about treatment for it and even though it's just really popular in the media lately, I decided to check it out more. I kept an online tracking of my symptoms for a couple months and then pretty much noted when I had violent outburts (which is quite common unfortunately); however, nevertheless, every month for about six months has been a violent one in the ten days that many women have PMS.

Anyway, decorations aside, I'm pretty sure that my anger is uncontrollable and has been since I was a child. I have dealt with it pretty well for a long time now. My new aggression now emerges only once a month. I am so hopeful that some medicine will help me straighten out the hormones that "growing up" totally misplaced.

I'm never going to get a job

I really don't want to get a job. Ever. My dad tried to give me a job speech. I mean, I had a job once... I worked at a greenhouse and lifted flats of plants. Hard work, I swear. And I did it all, but I hated it. I didn't hate being there- it was pretty and hot during the summer and money is good. I just don't really need the money and I'd much rather be doing something fun for free.

I don't want to work. I just can't help it that I'd rather sit around and do nothing. I'm in school and I don't need to make myself a living! I hardly spend money except to get food. I just need a way to get mass amounts of money fast for my savings. Because I admit, I have an affinity for expensive bags, sunglasses, shoes and clothes. It works just fine, though, transferring a little of my checking into my savings from each month's allowance from daddy.

Next purchase is a chanel bag. A lot of my savings is going towards it, but I still feel like my income is enough to get me by. If I ever get a job, it's an internship working at a corporate firm. That way, I am actually contributing to my future. But you will never see me working a 9 to 5 in some cubicle where my ideas don't count for shit. Not until I'm the CEO making millions.

So I guess we all win?

I've had a good time relaxing and trying to avoid my anger management problems. Turns out that I'm not very good at avoiding them at all. My mother so graciously did my laundry while I was home. She annoyed me a little but it was fine. My dad said something about getting a job and I kind of flipped out but without input from him thank god. So no thumbs up or down for the home experience. Mother did, however, hurt my beautiful $150 fur sweatshirt.

It might have been the cold air of the dryer or the heat from on top of the dryer, whatever, but I said don't put that sweatshirt in the dryer. The poor thing looks like a matted sheep as opposed to what it used to look like- i little bear boa. How sad. Noticeably sad, I sat in the bathroom at 2 am combing inside my jacket and the hood. I did that a couple more times over the next week when no one was home.

I decided it was rather futile to go any further brushing my wounded kitty. I gave up and lint-brushed it and wore it. Some girl wearing the same sweatshirt made me kind of freaked out about the transformed sheep wool I was now wearing. ew. Anyway, the stupid jacket got me all linty just like the 80$ sweater I bought from victoria's secret that makes me sneeze and look blue for days after wearing it. gay.

Christie knows how to wallow in her sadness, so she kills two birds with one stone. Mother gave me the idea to buy one off ebay. Couldn't find it so I bought a maroon one (the one I originally wanted). Today, I won the auction for a creme one like my original, however it just has a mini moose (I like it better than the old). SO I GUESS WE ALL WIN. but I definitely didn't need the hardships.

People who aren't cut out for the job

A second post with the opening "I can't believe how long it took me to sign into this blog..." except this time I replace blog with piece of shit. I am not exaggerating when I say that I've been working on it on and off for about three hours now. Success comes with much work I see.

I've been letting the small things bother me (especially today). I like the small things and I think it is important not to overlook them daily. But maybe I'm a little too concerned with specifics. I woke up rather grumpy that I had three classes today that involve lots of waiting. (again, it's a Wednesday). I read some school books and worked on info for my feature article. then I sat there getting overwhelmed about it all. Joey's shoe grazed my Ugg and I gasped. Accordingly, I thought about it the whole trip to Sugardaddy's and then used my suede brush and eraser to ease the damage when I got home.

Someone ate the last honey nut granola bar. there were only two in the first place, and I ate the first one. I yelled and stuff and Joey reminded me that he ate it and I had a bite. they're nothing special but I just don't like chocolate. errrr stop touching my stuff and don't correct me when I'm really the one to blame.

Elsewhere, Joey's friends' car starting emitting this awful chemical burning smell and then I thought about if we all passed out in the car while it was still moving. Then the battery light went on and I was sure we could just make it home with the windows open (3 more blocks). Apparently not. We pulled over, waited an hour for advice and then decided to just drive the 10 seconds home and get it towed there (my idea in the first place).

I really hate stupid people who don't let you get a single word in. Actual event:
-Knock at the door
-I open the door to a bunch of girls. I'm sure i looked perplexed...Oh, it's a realtor (happens almost EVERY DAY)
-she barges inside past me as she continuously asks me my phone number to make sure that I know she called me and that she's right
-i give her some excuse like ah i was sleeping and she ignores me
- walks around my house and then asks me if she can get into my roomates room (the roomate who refuses to come back or unlock her door)
-I try to tell her no
-she cuts me off saying maybe her key will work
- i try to tell her it won't work
-she cuts me off saying she just thought it might
-I try to tell her it won't work but then let her do it while I say in the background really loud "what an idiot, way to ignore me"
- she asks me what size the locked room is
-I try to tell her and she cuts me off
- I stay silent from now on and she leaves out my front door which i told her doesn't lock itself and she has the key
-she left it unlocked and I yell "you fucking bitch" down the stairs

The simple solution

The variety of things that hinder my sleep is almost incomprehensible: car alarms and horns, tires skidding on ice, snow shovelling, leaf blowers, tree cutters, teenagers yelling, loud spanish music at all hours of the day and night. The array is obscure, yet not one morning passes by without me being woken up from one of these awful sounds. Most recently, my homocidal rage has escalated quite briskly into a blinding fury. I have woken up for almost a week to cars that are stuck in their spots. they are stuck, I SWEAR (if this weren't true, I wouldn't have experienced hours of high pitched squeals while people tried to move them).

I'm assuming that my anger got the best of me after many mornings without proper rest-- because, a couple of days ago, when I awoke to constant shoveling, I immediately saw red. I opened my window, and my eyes darted like a lion who has caught the scent of its prey. I found the culprit, chipping away at ice in the ally across the street. Why? I didn't see a car. no front door. So I yelled really loud and really viciously (what else is new?). I have no idea what I said for sure, but it was intended to frighten him and mostly, to give him an ultimatum of his shovel or my fist.

I can't stress enough just how often my sleep is interrupted by stupid, inconsiderate people. The most common yet strange occurence living across from a mexican hostel (this detail still remains a mystery) is that around 2 or 3 am on any given night of the week, a car with EXTREMELY loud spanish music pulls up, honks, and continues to idle for 15 minutes (still blasting spanish music). When I wake up in my apartment, I forget at first that I'm in America, seriously. What a lack of respect this neighborhood has.

Anyway, I was totally set on walking, in my pajamas and mismatched sneakers, up to the guy shovelling. I imagined punching him in the face and THEN asking what he could possibly be thinking at 10 am on my only day off. I got out the door but arms reached around my waist to pull me back, kicking and yelling. I know he heard it because he stopped 10 minutes later (after a couple hours of shovelling). What I would have done to knock him out. Much simpler solution.

Give me a brake

I've begun to notice how dangerously the T buses operate. Yesterday, during hellfest, the otherwise vacant buses were packed with people who knew vaguely how the "old" system works. MBTA's technology failed and everyone had to revert to the best-kept secret in public transportation, the 57 bus. With the T blocking an intersection for most of the day, students and cars couldn't reach their destination and the bus took on the mission of the Outbound B-Line. I always think it's hilarious when someone wipes out in the T because they can't keep balance, but on a bus? OH-MY-GOD, I don't even know if it's too mean to be funny.

These bus drivers are pretty ruthless; they can stop on a dime for street-wavers and will definitely fly past your stop when the yellow stop-request tape doesn't work (which is every time for me). Today, I'm pretty sure the bus driver was implying that I jump out while it was moving. He was creeping along with the doors open while I held on tight (waiting for the jerk of the brakes). What I've failed to stress is that the bus is on a road with other cars. it's basically a car. and there is so much stopping and going that it kind of looks foreign to me to have anyone stand. I'm so wrong. but I think a lot of people agree with me after yesterday.

So I saw some lady fly from one end of the bus to the other and that's when I kind of thought about how creepy the bus drivers are. Then I realized I was holding the bar so tight that my hand was white and I jerked back and forth on my arm as if it was a limp noodle. ok, not that limp. just a noodle. I think lots of people missed their stops yesterday because the drivers love to roll through them. If you don't jump out in time, he says fuck you and keeps going. give me a (gentle) break, buddy.

Things I will NEVER enjoy

I cannot believe how much time I just spent trying to sign into my blog account. Trying is the key word here, taking in mind that with all of these password hackers out there, websites demand complicated passwords. I don't have the mental capacity to memorize numbers and letters, capital and not, in random order. Google gmail actually tells you the strength of the password you're creating. It's a novel invention, but all things aside, I don't want to spend my time trying to remember the right complex password for the particular email, blog, myspace, or facebook profile I'm using. Can't we have one interface with all our communication needs?

I hate bad weather. Mostly I hate it when I don't have the choice to not participate in it. Funny how I've always attended schools in places where people don't believe there is a day where people just plain can't function outside. Nope, Boston University barrelled along today, continuing to take pride in its "no-close" policy. Terrorism aside, let's throw some "bombs" around the city that are actually Lite-Brites and I'm sure they'll have a fit. Problems with priorities here. They cancelled school only when they realized that the students were partially swimming to class down the sidewalks. I absolutely hate wet feet.

I hate waiting so much and I hate Wednesdays because all I do is wait around for another class to start and end. then I wait around some more. blah blah blah, it's such a waste of my time to sit in the GSU every day smelling all that terrible food listening to people gawk at each other while I read a book I wouldn't otherwise be reading. I hate waiting mostly when it's for the bus, and people come up behind me and stand there as if I'm waiting to cross the street. I'm not, and in fact, the light is red. So you should take the initiative yourself to cross the street instead of expecting me to guide you. Same thing with classrooms. No one can be the brave one who walks in first. I always get the best seat ;)

Blue taxis, more like when hell freezes over

I hate taxi cabs. I hate their existence, I hate their driving, I hate them. The best part of being a cab driver, I'm sure, is having a stupid number with which to call yourself. There you go, cab drivers are a number among better, more hardworking citizens. Yesterday I swore I would never get in a cab again. Extreme decisions are formed out of trauma, and I must say this is the case. We won't get into details about my car accident and screaming fit with cab number **** in the middle of Comm Ave., but it is evident that those 4-digit-number cabs really don't get the pick of the litter when the cab announcer is auctioning off pick-ups on the radio. And that's all I need to know. Rot in hell.

Nevertheless, I took a cab to class today. I can't remember the cab's number so now I just act shady around any of those white ones with the blue state of massachussetts on the side. I'll never know who it is either because all the drivers look the same and drive the same. This city needs to take group driving courses. I thought New Jersey and New York drivers were bad; turns out, we're good drivers but just like to go fast. Boston, on the other hand, could be driving blindfolded for all I know.

I've been doing a lot of being sleepy and not a lot of sleeping. I'm living in a haze and eating until I feel plump. These are the perks and the downsides of winter, I suppose.

For men who yell at the television during football games

Any new workplace needs a proper introduction, blogs included. I never ignore my duties to create a mysterious yet appropriate introduction of myself and my thoughts before proceding. I have been on haitus from the writing world for the past couple months-- they say you can't produce anything substantial when you're too happy with life. I understand it now. I have been watching quite a lot of television, being indulgent in both food and new clothes, and sleeping when I can. Not much has changed in the last couple years in what was supposed to be the start of a new "life." At the same time, it has all morphed into quite the appropriate introduction to a more controllable, passive, yet passionate lifestyle.

I am under the assumption that you are under the assumption that I am watching television. I am watching and have been watching "the game," as we new englanders call football, all day. I was actually very excited that the Bears were shown on one of the "Big Three" because that means that Fall Out Boy's halftime show will be getting that much more coverage. Nevertheless, their fame has angered and driven me on over the last five years. Good for you and rather bad for me.

About that game: the Pats have just begun and we all know how this place croons for the Brady-meister. Oh boy, take me back to New York please. The boys in the apartment downstairs are making, the again, appropriate comments for every play. Needless to say, they've been watching "the game" all day too. I leave you with luck in escaping your bookies when the Pats don't win.

--Christie