You two were all sex and philosophy...

My quarter life crisis hit in a relatively expectable way. It was early fall and I sat at my cubicle in an office that I had hoped to leave before the leaves had a chance to change their colors. The temptations of summer Fridays, a lax work load and the comfort of a weekly check deposited directly into my account were too much and here I sat as the temperature dropped as quickly as my determination. I was bored and therefore boring in the most exciting city in the world.

But this is what your 20s are all about, right? Finding who you are, shedding past skins and struggling to squeeze yourself into a new one that may be a size too small at first. Or maybe those are just my no longer size 4 jeans. I digress.

I went online searching. I wanted to be sure I wasn't the only one I knew going through this. The joy of the internet is that it puts classmates right at your fingertips. No need to wait for the reunion to outshine one another. I knew where the majority of my graduating class was, and weren't they primarily in the same boat as I was?

But then I googled Boy (see past posts for character reference) and all that changed.

Of course by 25 a handful of people I knew had begun to marry. In my few years as a New Yorker I had seen a couple weddings and even a birth. On Facebook I saw as classmates tied the knot and for the predictable reasons it made me feel old, but rarely off balance. When I googled Boy, I came across something that I could never have prepared myself for. There upon my screen, glaring at me, taunting, was Boy; my sexual first, my college addiction, the one who made me cry and taught me to heal; in his wedding photo.

At least 20 minutes must have past before I could tear my eyes away from the site. Like a gruesome car wreck I simply couldn't force myself to look away all the while knowing the nightmares I was condemning myself to by looking.

There he was with R, a girl that three years previously had embraced me enthusiastically at a bar, "I'm so happy to finally meet you! I have heard so much about you!" I had forced a smile. What could she possibly know about me. That I used to sleep with her boyfriend? That I had stayed devoted to him as he brushed me off time and again with fears of commitment and his inability to love? Did she know how we would see each other in secret because he didn't want to be in a relationship but he would start fights when other boys had the audacity to hit on me in front of him. "Why would he try to kiss you in front of me?" he reeled at my 21st birthday. "Because no one knows about you, your rule," I would sigh.

When I returned from London the second time, Boy and I met for coffee to catch up. I hoped he wouldn't kiss me. I was still in pain from leaving Ryan and too weak to fight off the temptation of Boy again. "I've started seeing someone," he told me and I relaxed. "I'm not really that into her but she's in law school with me and unfortunately once you sleep with one girl in class, the others all consider you off limit. Since I don't have time to meet anyone outside of class I suppose she'll have to do. I mean, she's cool enough..." What a lucky girl, I thought to myself, knowing Boy all too well to see this situation as one with a happy ending.

Three years later when I came across their beautiful wedding photo on a photographers site, I nearly became ill. I wrote to J frantic. Why was it that I was ok with the reality that I would probably never see Ry again and yet the mere idea that Boy and I would never again find ourselves naked between my sheets had me feverish? I had not even spoken to him in two years.

"You two were always all sex and philosophy," J replied. "That kind of strange chemical thing doesn't happen often."

I still have his number on my phone but I never contacted him. Instead I took J's words and created a blog. Then I quit my job in search of a new philosophy... and hopefully some sex while I'm at it.

Mama the angels

On a plain morning...

If you were to ask me right now why I left my publishing job, I could give you an array of answers in no specific order:
-I want to go to graduate school
-I plan to travel the world a bit
-I need to concentrate on my writing
-I am in search of my life passion

None of these would be lies per se, in fact I really do have the interest in doing all of the above. However, so far my actual actions have consisted of the following:
-Picking up waitressing shifts
-Playing grown-up as potential "vice president" of a friend's film company
-Pretending to manage a music career

All in all, the reality factor in my decision making precess is hardly relevent thus far.

And here I am, trying to write while my coffee gets cold and my mind flips over to art classes I may or may not want to take, a puppy I could possibly buy and a home office I think is necessary to create before any of the factors in the first list can actually happen.

But at least I get to stay below 14th St.

A song by any other name would not be mine

I love when songs use my name... There are really not enough of them. If you know others, please let me know! So far i have this one by Marc Broussard, there's one by Jewel and my favorite Sweet Emily by Leon Russell.

Now if only I could find a song entitled Emily Rae as right now the only songs directly about me personally are: She's a Senior and I'm a Freshman (So it Can Never Happen Again) and some song about me at a concert in a yellow tank-top when i was 16 which i cannot recall the name of... I love being a musical muse :) Bring them on musician friends!!!

Drunken ramble

Written circa summer 2003 (while drunk)

Video games at Gregor's
fucking drunk as fuck... and fuck is drunk
feels like the high school I never lived
but always wanted
The high school seen in movies
sitting at the cool guys house
getting pissed
while your boyfriend stares at the screen
in a trance of virtual technology
and all you can think about is ripping off
his clothing
-which would never have happened
in my high school memories
since i never had sex
or a real boyfriend-
Three years has made a world of difference
in my life
as I sit here in this flat
on the other side of the Atlantic
watching the only boy
I've ever loved
and feel like I'm in
the high school life
I never lived
but always wanted
deep down
If only I was still sixteen
I could be happy with this existence
but unfortunately I've aged
and must grow up
beyond sitting in this room
getting pissed
while he plays video games...
like still in high school

Quarter past conception

"I think i'm going through a quarter life crisis," i whined into my dirty martini. I had made it passed the underage ameretto sours, through the down it as fast as possible vodka cranberries and reached a martini age. And i still had no idea what i was doing with my life. Certainly i always thought by 25 i would have even the slightest idea... but i was lost, and at a loss.

Hal sighed, "That's what being in your mid-twenties is all about, kid." He continued on about how everyone goes through this at my age, trying to find love and starting your career, complicated bullshit like that. I wanted to know how long this so-called phase was going to last. Patience has never been my virtue.

Neil Young had assured me at 24 that there was still so much more. At 25 i think he lied.

La Vie en Rose

I have ceased to write in recent months, not for lack of words but merely the lack of motivation to spout them. I need inspiration however, and at the moment I know not where to find it.

I saw the most beautiful movie this past week called La Vie en Rose, about the life of iconic singer Edith Piaf. Please go see this immediately. I have a new appreciation for life and love after watching this... http://www.edithpiafmovie.com/

Now if only i could find where i lost my impulse to write.