Monthly Archives: July 2006


1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your LJ with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
1. what have you done that you’re most proud of?
I’ve been brave enough to move to new cities and try new things completely on my own. I’ve been brave enough to construct a future for myself independent of anyone else’s expectations.
2. tell me what you were doing the last time you were stung by a bee.
I was at home and my dad took chewing tobacco out of his lip and covered the sting; it was about three years ago.

3. tell me about the worst conversation you’ve ever had on a date.
One that stands out is a conversation I had where the guy told me he really hoped his future wife would be able to give birth naturally.

4. what is the hardest habit you’ve ever had to break? Sucking my thumb. I was 4 and quit because I didn’t want to be ostracized in kindergarten. More currently, breaking a habit of mind that takes me to ugly, destructive places when I’m stressed. It still creeps in sometimes.
5. what is your biggest weakness and how does it affect you?
I spend too much of my time in a rich fantasy life. It leaves me disconnected from others, and prone to unrealistic romantic escapades, ones that are hopeless and doomed and fraught with tragedy and oftentimes leave me alone and disappointed.


I’ve been busy. I’m right in the middle of sabotaging my relationship. My brain just isn’t in the habit of a relationship and sometimes the learning seems too hard. I feel like I should just give up and go back to the way I comfortably know how to run.

spare parts

Growing up, my family’s washing machine, dryer, and refrigerator were all “harvest gold.” They were bought before I was born, withstood three moves, and were even repaired a couple of times before my parents splurged and bought new ones a few years after I moved out. The new ones are white. Last week the washing machine in my apartment stopped working. It looks about 5 years old. The repair people came and fixed it, but it broke again a few days later. Two days ago a new one was delivered and is working fine.
Recently, upon taking out the trash, I noticed the old (5 year-old) washing machine in the dumpster, taking up space. It could have been fixed. It could have easily been fixed. It could have been sent to China for spare parts or to pollute their landfills. It seems like it could have gone somewhere else.

I’m feeling a bit barfy tonight. I’ve been sending emails that I regret. Well, not regret, but dread. Also, I ate two lemon bars and a surprisingly greasy grilled cheese sandwich. So yeah, barfy.

in this beautiful summer air

The past few days, everything has smelled too strong. Putrid, sour smells are everywhere. Yoga stunk like a newly lacquered gymnasium, along with the usual stenches of people’s perfumes, body sprays, body lotions, and shampoos. I prefer the simple smell of a body in clean clothes, changed and washedwithin 24-36 hours. All else is cat piss to me. The air for two days, in the car, outside, even when I woke up, has had this dense smell of sour, rotten, oil. I just learned that the air quality is low lately, even in the red.

the road to

I just spent 35 minutes of my cardio, turned to the left—CNN blaring in the background—while a young woman told me about her 6 month stay in Lebanon. In a poll, the majority of Americans side with Israelis over Palestinians. She said it was no place for a woman. She had two babies and was showing with her next. This is all about religion, she said. What religion are you? She said, we came back to the US, and now I’m divorced. He was abusive (may have used the word “beat”). Those people are extremists, she said. There, she felt like Oprah. There, she and her husband were American—they were loved and hated. She got caught up, couldn’t stop, and stories flooded out, all from just 6 months in Lebanon.