Certain. Death. Maybe.

A cookie to the first person who can tell me what is wrong with the following sentence:

"Persons not heeding evacuation orders in single family one or two story homes may face certain death."

Also, and this may be morbid, or distasteful, or whatever, but they said this OUT LOUD on NPR this morning, and you would not believe how delighted i was to hear the words "certain death" on the radio. For a brief glimmer of a moment, I was in the Princess Bride. Or some other fairy tale involving a threat of certain death.

CERTAIN DEATH!!

but only maybe.

damn, i think i just gave it away.

also, I'm trying to work out a new budget based on my new salary AND I'm dreaming of the day when I can forever stop talking to, seeing, or listening to my heinous roommate, and I'm trying to remember whether "they" recommend housing costs to be 30% of before tax or after tax income. Do you know?

God, i just reread that last paragraph and i'm a little embarrassed to have you know the heighth, breadth, and depth of my nerdity.

oh well. you probably already know anyway.

Some things i thought of today

First, that everyone dies of heart failure. I went to Easter dinner at a friend's mom's house somewhere in "this looks a lot like Western Pennsylvania" Long Island, and she is a pediatric ICU nurse who takes care of babies who most likely will die, and she said to me, over dinner, that everyone dies of heart failure. which is true because it's the last thing to go before you die, regardless of why it's going (and where...). But it didn't hit me until today, when i was editing some slides at work (yup, the glories of my job. i know, i know, you wish you were me, but you can't be. because i am.) for a drug that cannot be named because it would probably land me in jail (facetious, i don't really care, but these drug companies are super super anal about their drug names, anywhooo), and it's a drug for something called ACUTE heart failure, which is when heart failure gets really bad. (side note: i always thought that it was weird to call a disease "heart failure" as it implies a one-time deal, as in, my heart failed, and now i'm dead, but no, it's a disease people live with all the time until the LAST time their heart fails. and THEN they're dead.) And THEN, I remembered what my friend's mom said at Easter dinner: Everyone dies of heart failure. And then i started thinking about the relationship between heart failure and a broken heart, and whether there was one, because a friend i was talking to recently said that he didn't want to get into a relationship with a girl he was interested in because he was, (and he didn't come out and say it, but i inferred, and i assume correctly) afraid of her breaking his heart, or him hers. To which i wisely responded: "But it doesn't kill you. Everyone's heart has been broken. And it hurts, but it doesn't kill you. So why don't you just go for it?" But then you have the stories about people who love each other so much that when one partner dies, the other follows closely behind, like with Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. And people like to say that Johnny Cash died of a broken heart because he loved June Carter Cash so much that he didn't want to live if she wasn't living too, but really, he didn't die of a broken heart. He died of heart failure.

I'm thinking about writing a story that explores those concepts a little more deeply. Though, it looks like i might have just done that. Humph. Oh, well.

The second thing I thought today was: "All I need is a baby golden retriever (what are those called? those have a special name? What is it? Oh yeah! Puppy!). All I need is a golden retriever puppy, and i could be in a J.Crew catalog. Well, that and skinny legs." Because i was wearing my new navy sailor mini chino skirt with a blue and white striped button down and a brown cardigan and those brown knee-high riding boots. i was very proud of myself for putting together such a typical and WASPy outfit. I felt like i thoroughly fit in with myself. Also, that it has been a LONG time since men last saw knees and lower thighs. A LONG TIME, friends. In the last 26 years combined, my legs have not had that much attention. If Tom Robbins were to write a book about me (and I hope he does, starring a not nearly as gross older perverted man as in his other books for me to have sex with), it would be titled "Fat Knees and All." No joke.

AND THEN, me and Toya went to a meeting way up on the 7th floor where the executives have their kegs and dancing girls while we minions toil and sweat in the windowless abyss that is the 5th floor (more like toil and shiver, actually, but that's just semantics) to hear a very cute and very nervous Maria Von Trapp look alike (pixie hair cut, ugly jacket) tell us about how we can volunteer at a camp for families affected by AIDS and that the company will LET US HAVE A FREE WEEK OF WORK OFF THAT DOESN'T COUNT TOWARD OUR VACATION. And I was like, "Hmm, be at work...be playing with kids. Be at work...be playing with kids." I believe I will be playing with kids. And also because I want to volunteer to help people who are affected by AIDS. And also because the most beautiful boy i have ever seen in my entire life up to this point including celebrities was sitting in that room today, and do you know what happened, friends, when he opened his mouth? An accent happened, that's what. An Australian accent. And do you know what I did when the meeting lady said "Yes, Jason?" I wrote down his first name on my meeting information sheet so that i could somehow stalk him later with only his first name to go on. And do you know what I did the entire rest of the meeting? I drooled all over my meeting information sheet while i took in his perfectly sculpted jawline and the muscles that bulged oh so subtly through his fatigue-colored button-up. And i said something to Toya, most likely too loudly (because i was titillated AND nervous) like "Kill me now. Or is it 'take me now?'" I AM GOING TO THAT CAMP AND I AM GOING TO STALK THAT BOY AND I AM GOING TO FORCE HIM TO LOVE ME AND MARRY ME AND HAVE MY CHILDREN. All because I want to help families affected by AIDS.

the beauty of the unknown

i feel like i've been scattered into a million swirling snowflakes that are hovering above the city. i feel like nothing is certain, that any part of me could land anywhere. i feel stagnant, hovering above the chaos of the city, unable to settle as i sweep past buildings and trees and the lights in Times Square, and the hunched overcoats. I feel cold and alone. I feel shaken and stirred. I feel like this entire city is my home but i have nowhere to rest. still but on a precipice. calm with a storm on the horizon. the hush before the starting gun.

on your mark. get set. run.

in six months, my life could be entirely different. or entirely the same. and it feels odd to say that i have no idea which it will be. questions are writhing like snakes in a pit, one, then another, then another, sliding on top of the others, into my view.

where will i live when my lease is up?
will i get into grad school?
will my work pay for grad school?
will i try to find a better-paying job?
will i try to find a cheaper apartment further away, or will i be able to afford to live on my own?
who will be my confidantes?
who will be my lover?
will i be able to afford a vacation, and will i be able to find someone to go with me? (yes, i know, not exactly a life question, but important, nonetheless)
will i cut my hair? (haha, NO!)
will i be in love?

i know that some of these things are simply unknowable. which is what drives me crazy.
however, i also know that i will adjust. i will think hard and long about what is most important to me (saving money or living alone?). and i will know what to do. i will be fine. i know it. i always am. but that doesn't stop a part of me from freaking the eff out about the unknown now. before i know it.

which is one of those things i really like about life: the drama of it all. the change. the ambush. you think everything is fine and calm and peaceful and maybe, just maybe you've started to figure everything out, and then KA-BLAM! Batman breaks through the door and starts throwing punches and next thing you know, you're in the middle of an epic comic-book scale punch-throwing, onomonopoiec-word seeing fight with some crazy fat man dressed like a penguin. POW! BLAT! SCHMOOZELE! (i made up that last one.)

BOOM. and you know you're still alive.

baby naming

If you're reading this, you most likely know me, and if you know me, you know that i like books. I was thinking the other day (yesterday, at work, actually. yes, instead of DOING work) that should i happen to procreate, the chances of which i give myself, at this point in my life, maybe a 37.62% chance of doing*, I might perhaps like to name my children after certain literary-type things. The probability of me procreating 3 separate times is exponentially less likely (twice, 13.31%; thrice, 0.45%); however, i've come up with 3 names i would like to use on my literary spawn, so we're going to go with 3. I've also decided to go from largest literary-related thing to smallest, because everyone knows the baby gets the most attention, so i figured in a handicap for her so that she won't be quite so spoiled. I plan on having a girl, a boy, and a girl, in that order (i'm not even going to attempt the probabilities with this one). The eldest, of course, would be named Paige. The middle child would be Colum (a name shared, incidentally, by a favorite writer of mine, Colum McCann). The youngest would be named Tilde.

~

And should I, God forbid, accidentally procreate a fourth time, it would be a girl and i would fulfill my childhood promise to my 8th grade science teacher by naming her Inertia.

that's pretty.

On a related note, i would like to discuss my amusement with names that constitute a full sentence. Tom Waits, for instance. Or a guy i used to date named Justin Blewitt. i like that one particularly a lot because it's not just a subject and a verb, but also an, um, you know, predicate. Names are so funny. Julie Seals. What does she seal? Who knows?!

Yeah, yeah, i know i'm a nerd. But if i wasn't, i would probably be hanging out with my friends blowing coke instead of blogging. you didn't think about that, didja? DIDJA?

SPEAKING of drugs, I'm sure you know by now that Heath Ledger is dead (good segue, huh?). Without getting too philosophical about it, i would just like to say that IF YOU ARE 28, GORGEOUS, FAMOUS, AND HAVE A 2-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER, YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO REASON IN HELL TO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF. If your life is so bad, i should have been dead years ago. possibly aborted. okay? seriously, grow a pair, perhaps try to consider for 2 seconds that it's not all about you, and realize that pretty much everyone else on the planet is doing WORSE than you.

ugh, what a waste of a pretty face.

Of course, i would be down for starting some kind of "Michelle Williams killed him and made it look like a suicide because..." conspiracy theory.

Okay, that's about all the time i have today. tune in tomorrow for more excitement.**

*All statistics are completely made up. Like all other statistics.
**I make absolutely no promises to actually blog tomorrow or that, in the event i do blog, it will be in any way exciting.