a victoria p


17 January 2008

Do I have to stage my own intervention?

Some of you may have noticed (doubtful... wishful) that I have been updating this blog and taking down the articles within 24 hours. This is because I feel as though I might be offending someone or a situation, or am uncertain of a situation or am just generally uncertain and unsure of myself. As of late, reasons for this include, but are not limited to, college, men, the lines of dating, resenting work, and my ever-growing self-image "difficulties". Pah. Although I choose to make some of my business public-ish, I'm currently unsure where to draw the line.

Most of you who really know me (as in, my patterns and tendencies), know that I usually don't give a shit about making provocative postings, writing provocative essays, taking provocative pictures, alluding distastefully to sexuality, people/ things I don't like, people/ things I like too much, etc. I have been criticized many times over for these sorts of things.

However, recently I am finding it hard to "keep an essay down," as my heart and general sensibility have been stolen, or rather borrowed, and are appropriately on a plane to Los Angeles right this very moment or have been left at a Christmas dinner. As much as I hate to admit that, it's the frick'n truth.

Thus, I've been tip-toeing around my own goddamned "art" and that perturbs the fuck out of me, which is why it's so hard to admit.

I am writing this right now mostly for some enlightenment because I am genuinely stumped on a few things and have decided to take a break from feeling sorry for myself and try to, instead, get you to also feel sorry for me. First off, I have decided to not go to the gym today because after going to the gym on drugs this past weekend, I realized that I in fact have a continuing addictive personality and need to cool the fuck out. Nevermind the drugs, really, more so the gym is the addiction I'm talking about. I also decided to do some "work" and re-watch The Darjeeling Limited. One of my remaining two college admissions essays has to be about some life changing film, book, or event. I chose a film because I think that would be the appropriate thing to do since I am applying as a screenwriter, although choosing a book or event seemed much more like me. We'll see just how far I get with that.

So, I popped a bag of 100 calorie popcorn, grabbed a cup of green tea and watched The Darjeeling Limited again. I cried, laughed and got goose bumps all over again. I watched the movie while reading the script at the same time, which probably took a lot away from the movie (as well as the script, I guess), thus I promised myself that I should read the script and watch the movie once more before writing my analysis. If you're curious to know just how I read and watched at the same time-- it took three cups of green tea to keep me focused and I split my computer screen in half, watching the movie on one side and scrolling along with the script on the other.

The script might as well have said, 'Amanda gets goose bumps here' and 'cue Amanda to tear up here' etc. because all my familiar emotions from the first time I had seen it hit me at all the same places. I'm unsure if this film changed my life, so to speak, although it might eventually because if I write a damn good enough essay about it, I might just get into college and that would certainly change my life. Although I'm not sure that's what they meant about writing about something that has changed my life.

I have essentially been rotting in my room since this past Monday morning at 8AM, when I returned home from initially going out, Sunday afternoon.

Sunday afternoon started with a few friends and coworkers going out to brunch to bid farewell to a friend who is leaving town for a few months. This seems to be the popular grand-gesture these days and I'm not too certain how I feel about that. As a matter of fact, I am hypersensitive to hearing planes passing by outside my window right now; with every passing one, I get a little bit more upset. The snow/ hail/ rain stuff coming down doesn't quite help, either.

Anyway, I stuffed my very starved body with Thai food and then, simply put, we all got high, got into a friend's station wagon, threw another friend in the trunk because we were packed into the car like sardines and drove towards the airport. We got out of the station wagon at a park in Queens, near the airport and watched plane after plane land. We all named off places we'd like to be flying to at that very moment. We all asked ourselves why we had not already gotten drunk and boarded a plane after work one night. I made up a gambling game in which we would all shout out which airline we thought the plane belonged to before it landed. Eventually, this gambling game turned into a "high-dea" (what I call seemingly brilliant ideas when I'm high).

The high-dea was that I open up what would be a banana stand by day and an "underground" plane gambling booth by night. It would have to be "underground" because I suspect it would immediately become illegal once word got out, and all.

It would have the same sort of charts you see at bars around the time of the super bowl. On the charts would be money bets placed on certain air planes that landed at certain times that represent certain airlines. For example, Delta.

Back to rotting. I haven't left Brooklyn since Monday morning, which is odd, because I go into the city most every day for work or shopping or a movie or a restaurant or a bar or to pick up a paycheck or shoes or dresses or SOMETHING-- is what i'm trying to say.

Over the last few days I've gone to the gym, binged, watched some movies, wrote some essays, edited some essays, obsessed over a few celebrity bodies, and treated myself to an eight-pack of my favorite bar of soap at Rite Aid, where I fought with the cashier over a dollar and seven cents in front of half of the polish/ hipster community. Also, I think I've been stood up a few times but I'm going to give the benefit of the doubt because after recent events (ie: a best friend overdosing), you just never know what's going on in people's lives. However, I literally ran out of shaving cream between Monday and today in the off chance that I was not to be stood up, as well as my special occasion body scrub. That's right-- I have a special occasion body scrub. Or had, rather.

So, besides shaving, writing, running, and bingeing and being my typical media whore-self, I've also been doing a whole lot of generally nothing.

Below is a photo of my "desk" where I do my whole lot of nothing. That's right, I not only "work" from home most of the time, but I also work from my bed! Although, don't be too jealous; I haven't seen a dime yet, so this is hardly classified as "work".


(1) Passport application (ever rotting, begging to go to Finland, L.A., Puerto Rico, Barcelona, Madrid, San Sebastian, anywhere but here. I know you don't need a passport for half of those places, but hell, that's where I want to visit/ be forever) SOMEBODY HELP ME!
(2) One of many rough college application essays and scripts. My computer looks as though it is attempting to jump off of my bed and it probably is, with the amount of time we've been spending together lately.
(3) Vibrator, best friend, dangerously low on batteries and currently short-circuiting.
(4) Slim fast bar wrappers remaining from said binge. You are most definitely not supposed to exceed certain amounts of those things, hence "dieting".
(5) Something I wore last week, if not the week before, that smells like cigarettes (el grosso).
(6) Magazine with proven weight loss tips for 2008...
(7) My new Blackberry, which is apparently capable of not only ringing, but texting, emailing, general human osmosis, etc., however has not made a peep for the past few days (see: being stood up, above).
(8) Quilt that actually belongs here.
(9) Popcorn kernels and apple cores, ew.

(not shown: 1.5 L bottle of water and enormous mug of green tea, probably because they are adhered to my small trembling, neurotically fisted-hands)

And lastly, the quote of the week, from Juno-- "He's the cheese to my macaroni."

Headlines that remind me of my worst possible fate: "Nicolas Cage and His Sushi Waitress Wife".

Is it me or are there an awful lot of planes in the air today? There really are. THERE REALLY ARE.

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