sentimental geek

participation positives
+ fall weather–finally!
+ snuggling in bed with the dog and watching cooking shows on PBS until 1130am Saturday morning.
+ catching up on my sleep
+ Saturday night phone calls from the Gay Team
+ standing my ground about the f*cking living room tables (I don’t want them! I don’t want to pay for them!) and winning.
+ Death Cab CD from Neil
+ “Price of Gas” and “Pioneers” from Bloc Party’s “Silent Alarm” this morning
+ unexpected iced coffee from a coworker
+ being almost kind of ok with having $2 in my checking account
+ 4 days, 106 hours, 6377 minutes, 382625 seconds until roommate moves out.

I feel guilty because I just celebrated when I found out someone from my home office is leaving the company. We have never gotten along and I think she is a terrible person. I have referred to her on more than one occassion as my mortal enemy.

Now I feel guilty for being so happy that I will never have to talk to her again. I feel bad for calling her my mortal enemy. I feel bad for the HUGE smile on my face.

Is it ok to be this happy? It’s not like she’s getting fired, she’s moving on. I’m just happy that HER negativity will no longer affect me!

I have been extremely negative lately. You know that feeling when you can’t stop scowling…when your eyebrows are constantly furrowed and you know you’re pulling a face and you can’t stop? Negative, negative, negative. Last night, after a passive aggressive argument with soon-to-be-ex-roommate, I couldn’t sleep. My stomach gnawed and bucked for hours. I laid there, feeling hot and sweaty, my heart was pounding and kept repeating “Why? Why? Why?” over and over in my head.

Does negativity create negativity? Does feeling crappy on the inside lead to feelings of crap on the outside? My mother has always said I am overly sensitive, like an emotional antennae, that I pick up every emotional vibration within a 10 mile radius. I feel it on a very cellular level. If you feel like shit, I feel like shit. Last night it was like a tremendous elephant of pissed off emotion was sitting on my chest. An awkward, passive aggressive elephant on my chest–it’s not fun. And it wasn’t just last night. It’s been happening for weeks. I swear more, I say terrible things that I don’t mean, I find myself getting sucked into the did-you-hear-about-so-and-so-isn’t-so-and-so-stupid bullshit that I’ve I’ve been trying to wean myself from.

This negativity makes things not funny. I haven’t been overjoyed with anything lately, everything sucks. And me thinking everything sucks is making…everything…suck. It’s making everything negative: my bank account, my attitude towards everything and I think it’s even affecting people around me. I feel like a little black rain cloud.

So, to counteract this mass campaign of negativity, I am going to do my own version of participation positives to get me on the right track. I KNOW it should be on a Monday but I think it should still count. So here goes:
+My mom bailing me out and loving me and worrying about me NO MATTER WHAT. She is amazing. I don’t tell her enough. I LOVE YOU MOM!
+Being awake at 4:30am to see the sunrise.
+The way Lily wakes me up in the morning…every morning…at 5am.
+Seeing my sister smile and knowing that she is in love.
+Ice coffee buzz.
+Apologizing.
+The way Jed says “Good morning!”
+Laughing at my own ridiculous behavior.
+A quiet office.
+Feeling better by the minute.

Have a good day!

9 days
226 hours
13574 minutes
814476 seconds

Until she moves out.

Not like I’m counting or anything.

With my new camera.

This killed me today. Please click and watch.

listening: Blue Light (Engineers Antigravity Mix), Bloc Party

Ah, this strange medium between reality and fantasy. It’s like the thin air between two pieces of glass. What can you discuss here? When do you censor yourself? When do you make it up, tell the truth, lie to yourself, scream from mountaintops. I think Nicole called it ants in the pants. Something you want to write about, talk about, discuss…but you can’t. Neil–yeah, I’ll call you later.

This made me tear up today…I don’t know why. John Cameron Mitchell (Hedwig, and it if you haven’t seen it, PLEASE rent Hedwig and the Angry Inch) directed. It’s great. Watch it.

Honestly, I’m exhausted right now. I’m trying not to watch CNN because I can’t stand seeing our president betray our country.

Again, if you can help, please do.

A hundred years ago, Jen wanted to work for the Boston Globe. Jen wanted to go to college, get her degree in print journalism and write brilliant articles for the Globe…maybe get her feet wet there and move on to National Geographic. Maybe screw all that and work for Rolling Stone.

But that was a hundred years ago.

One hundred and 10 years ago, Jen started writing. When she was 11 or 12, she saw the movie “The Paper“. In one of those strange, life changing events, it made her want to be a reporter. And it’s a really really good movie.

One hundred and four years ago, Jen started a newspaper at her high school because it didn’t have one. A staff of five or six. One advisor. After school, almost every day. Hand cut and pasted. Copied on the school copier. Stapled by hand. Paper cuts. I loved doing it.

I went to college in Boston and went for print journalism. My professor for newswriting 101 was this huge, hairy brute of a guy. Big bushy red beard, tall. Informed all of us at the beginning of his first class that 20% of all students drop out. I understood on day 2. The guy was an ass. A brilliant ass but still an ass. He had an annoying habit of rubbing his huge hands together, the callouses making a weird, sandpapery sound, which would go on for almost an entire session. He was a writer or an editor for a labor newspaper in Boston. He was wholly intimidating. He was belittling. He was dreadfully honest. He wouldn’t let you take ONE INCH. He made me regret wanting to be a reporter. He made me doubt myself and I freaked. I dropped my major.

Sometimes I forget about that time, a hundred years ago. It’s a funny thing that triggers the memory, a memory of what COULD have happened, MIGHT have happened. A memory of something that has never happened. Deep down inside, as much as I think want to deny myself the thought, I still want to me the journalist. The reporter. The need to know and show. The desire to investigate. I enjoyed that time in my life. I enjoyed feeling that way.

This afternoon, I watched “Shattered Glass“. As utterly disgraceful the whole Glass debacle was, it’s an excellent movie. Peter Sarsgaard is fantastic in it…fantastic. I enjoy his acting. Even Hayden Christensen was. He can act. I was seriously doubting his abilites after Star Wars. If you haven’t seen it yet, I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend it. It sucked me in. Completely sucked me in.

Made me a little homesick for that time in my life. Made me a little homesick for what I could’ve done.

Ah, Labor Day weekend. Who could ask for anything more? I adore long weekends because I am a.) actually a lazy bastard and b.) I need a day off now and then. Not much to report, since I haven’t done much. Friday night Katie and I got Chinese and beer and watched TV and got drunk. Saturday we cleaned the house and I made dinner for Nick and Jim–roasted artichoke hearts and chicken piccata–thanks, Rachel Ray! Today I slept late and I’ve been watching MAD TV all day long. Oh…and the Usual Suspects on A&E. I’m sorry, I don’t know why they bother showing it on cable. There are waaaaaay to many “fairy godmothers” in there to make it believable. It gives me a headache. I just really like to watch skinny Benicio. Doesn’t it look like current Benicio ate skinny Benecio?

Poor, poor Benecio.

Couple of observations from this past weekend:

Heath Ledger is claiming that he “deliberately took roles he knew would ruin his screen career, as he wanted the chance to rise from the ashes in an even more impressive form.” Yeah, that what I would have said if I was in The Order, too. Funny, I deliberately WATCHED Ned Kelly to ruin my night and gave me the chance to disrespect him as an actor. Wonder if he planned that, too.

Oh, SNAP! A WHOLE half and hour of ‘Spade in America’?! Someone has finally heard my prayers. I am so effing psyched.

Kanye Wests’ speech on NBC was STUNNING. I knew I loved that man. I think we should print “Bush doesn’t care about black people” on t-shirts and pass them out! Thank you, Kanye! Thank you for being a celebrity who uses his influence for good and not evil.

Please help if you can.