I’m Annoyed.

This week I am (officially) annoyed at being in a relationship. Every time I try to have alone time or space it seems to be interrupted. And lately (more than usual) I have been feeling the stinging realization that I am not single. Like really not single. Like can’t escape into your own apartment single. Like we’re on a family cell phone plane together. Like we’re moving to New York come this spring together. Like, this is it, together.

I only feel this way when I’m trying to be creative or have some me time. The juices are flowing (so to speak) and my creativity is interrupted by “cat talk” –the cat person’s version of “baby talk.” I’m trying to read my New Yorker here.

my literal notes

I know it doesn’t seem important to you, but I’m absorbing something that I’ve worked to enjoy. I made dinner. I cleaned the dishes. I want to read The New Yorker without having the TV turned on next to me.  Hearing “Ohhhh baby girl (to the cat), you’re so sweet. You’re the sweetest. Did you know that?” I’m trying to take notes (literally) on the Lowline Project, Emily Nussbaum, and a Tennessee William’s play I want to read. The TV blaring next to me really isn’t helping my cognitive absorption. I’m having a surge of creativity and inspiration, and I want to explore it…NOW. Not tend to your questions or your own blabbering. Plus, my anxiety of being behind 10-12 New Yorkers at any given time is not helping matters.

I think I’m being stupid.

I think I’m just being reactionary.

I know I’m on my period.

I know I need to get sexed* up.

But DAMNIT are all fleeting waves of complex annoying emotions the result of uterus hemorrhaging, or are they REAL? These are the First World questions that haunt me.

Am I annoyed. Or am I Annoyed. ANNOYED is how I feel.

Yours questioning the merits of irrational annoyances,

25swf

*It’s been like three weeks. That’s just not right.

New York, I <3 You!

One day I will be writing a letter and it will come to part where I write my return address. The letters will flow from my finger tips…Brooklyn, New York. Ahhhhhhh. Rolling in like ink thunder…Brooklyn, New York.

I’ve been dreaming of New York a lot lately. Mostly due to the fact that it’s become increasingly obvious that my current job situation is about as dead-end as they come. I am not challenging myself and I’m surely stunting my growth. But it’s great for me right now…but in a year, not so much. So my new goal. To move to New York in the fall of 2012.

Why do I love New York?

It’s scares the shit out of me and intrigues me. It makes me feel large and small at the same time. It doesn’t go to sleep.

To me, it’s the ultimate challenge to move away from everything comforting into a new place with new people and new dreams.

The whole two times I’ve sunk my teeth into the Big Apple I felt so at home there. Somehow I don’t get lost (which is a miracle in itself).

I feel like New York and I would get along really well. I daydream about my life there…I would fall in love with my work and the smelly, schizophrenic city.

New York is magical. Growing up I always thought of it as some kind of far away land where dreams happened. Hollywood and my mom contributed to my self-perpetuated delusions.

My mom would tell me stories of her days living there. She was a costumer and worked for CATS. Everyone told her not to move out there, that she wouldn’t find a job. She found a job in 2 weeks with the Shakespeare in the Park, which (apparently) is (or was) a big deal for theatre folk. From there, she got the job on CATS. She moved back to Oklahoma to take care of my grandmother who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, but she was doing really well before she had to leave.

I’ll probably be alone in New York although I’d greatly prefer to have someone to share it with.

What I really want is to wake up on a Sunday and go buy flowers for myself from the shop that sits below me… and then get an egg sandwich, and sit on my shitty balcony eating the deliriously delicious egg sandwich with my happy flowers, and a big glass of orange juice (freshly picked and squeezed, please).

And then I will sing this song along with Liza while I read the New Yorker…

bubble battle new york

see how much fun this looks!

I also want to go to the Bubble Battle…holy hell. And most the time, if not all, New York has something amazing going on. Sure, I realize I will be poor and practically homeless on a month-to-month basis, but it’s happening around me…it’s the energy. And who knows, maybe I won’t be as Pauperella as I suspect, maybe I will have a little money to go and do something every once n’while.

So what jobs could I possibly want in New York? I have a list so here we go:

  1. Focus Features (I’ll be the mail girl for christ’s sake…just gimme a jooob)
  2. HBO Productions (everyone has mail)
  3. Kickstarter (project manager, yessss)
  4. Vimeo (I’d rock anything that needs to be produced/organized)
  5. Etsy (apparently one of the funnest companies to work for…I can have fun)
  6. Women Make Movies (gimme something to manage, communicate, or organize and I’ll rock it)

All I ask, New York, is that I just don’t want to end up heartbroken like Barbara in Funny Girl. Such a great movie.

And these are just some of the reasons that I love New York.

I daydream about it. When the harsh Oklahoma winter winds slaps me in the face I (literally) think to myself, “Bring it…You’ve got nothin’ on New York baby.”

Is that weird?

Maybe a little.

Matt and Kim, take us out…

Yours with a Big Apple dream that will be ready for pickin’ come fall 2012,

25swf