nevermind

I'm staying in.

today I

ate too much thai food.
pulled out a fortune tucked in a cookie.

"To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift." I always get the weird ones.

washed my hair.
curled it too.
drew a girl that is purple sans pencil.
drank Jasmine tea.
packed up my shit.
I'm leaving for the night.

some more texts from me to you

"Simultaneous texting is the new telepathy. See you later."

To: Mike Haff

Sent: February 28, 2010 1:42pm

later today...

"help"

To: Mike Haff

Sent: February 28, 2010 7:16pm

sand + snow

Maybe I shouldn't have posted a painful breakup email in my blog, I haven't looked at this thing in a week as a result.
Yesterday I was off from work, I painted an onion and took an impromptu trip to Coney Island because I've never been to the beach in the snow. As of 3:42pm yesterday afternoon I could no longer say that.

I came home after being elsewhere for two and a half days, I read an article on emotional eating I could relate to, I ate 3 red bean buns, then I finally let myself look at The Elegance of the Hedgehog, the book I haven't touched in months because it moved me too much. Reading on didn't feel right just yet so I read backwards, rereading words I had last read in October. The house was empty, the olympics were on, I fell asleep to victory. When I woke up my mom was sleeping just a few feet away, I could hear her breathing, I picked up my book and I read on, I cried through every word, I finished it. That book is life changing, anyone reading this needs to stop and go read that immediately, I don't know if I've ever read a book with so much good in my life. It left me inspired to find the beauty in everything, if that isn't a sign of a good book then I don't know what is.
This week I let myself go a little, my hair is embarrassingly dirty. Sunday is the start of a new week, I'm picking myself up by the dirty hair, it's time for a cleanse.

  

this is what a break up letter looks like

Yesterday I was in the country. Well, I was in Long Island, a land of strip malls and stupid accents, but when those things are avoided it can really feel like the country, the good kind. It was beautiful and here it is suspended in time via digital photographs: 

Even though I pathetically spent Thursday night eating pints of ice cream, watching olympics, crying for countless hours, being crazy, and trying to end whatever it is this boy and I have, this same boy spent his Sunday off taking me some place beautiful and making me feel good. I showed up to work today in a new vintage fur hat, a token from my adventures, and a great big pep in my step. Nine hours later I left work, went for buns in chinatown, crammed myself into a packed train, and walked in my house, pep still in tow, a feat in itself for a Monday. I threw off my coat and plopped myself down in my swively chair to unlace my black patent leather tipped booties as I simultaneously awoke my laptop.

It had been dreaming, and in its sleep it brought me this. It's a letter. A break up letter. And I'm sharing it here because this letter hits me so hard I think I might crawl out of my skin if I don't put it some place where it feels real. Maybe if I put it here it will feel real. Maybe other people will read it and they'll understand what I still do not. This letter represents two years of my life. It represents a relationship I truly gave everything for, this letter is the sound of my heart breaking a thousand times. I didn't think I could be strong enough to do what he just did and I can't believe that it's here, in writing, the death of something that lived such a hard, but beautiful life. I needed this to happen and I probably couldn't have done it myself but that doesn't make it any less gut wrenching or impossible to grasp. Seven hundred and thirty days of reading emails could never have prepared me for this one...

Hi.

Im a little bit sad today. I guess ive been sad for awhile now. Stuff with being here and stuff with us. I know things have fallen apart between us. I also know that its mostly because of me. The reason I say that its not all me is because its not, not anymore. I know that youre going through a lot of changes in your life. New friends, new experiences, and soon a new home. Im happy about all of that. Its what you should be doing. I hope that youre smart about your choices. Im sure you are.

I have been thinking about us a lot. I think that youre moving in a new direction and you dont need me to hold you back. You should be going out with your friends, having fun, meeting new people with out the thought of me in the back of your mind. It seems like this is  what might be happening now. 

I dont want to put you in a position where you might have to lie to me or feel bad for something that you shouldnt feel bad about. It seems like you need to be on your own and I think its a good thing. You dont want some old guy like me bringing you down. Youre beautiful, funny, smart, a great artist. You have a lot to keep you going. 

It seems like we should call it quits. I hate to say this via email, i really do but I think that its something that youre feeling too and it cant wait any longer. I dont want you to think that I dont care or love you. I do, more than you could ever know. I think about you everyday and this hurts. Ive been a wreck for a month now just thinking about it. I love you so much and the time that we've shared has been the best in my life. I will always feel this way about you. Ive also always known that this day would come. You need someone that isnt gonna be an old guy when youre still young. It wasnt going to last forever. Its best that it ends now, for you and for me. I hope that this doesnt come as a shock to you. I dont think it will because I think you know its the right thing to do. Youll be much happier soon i know it. Now is the time that you should be experiencing new things, new people. Im just holding you back. It will make sense if it doesnt already.

I love you and I hope that I can see you when I get to NY. I miss every second that im not with you and I have a lot of things to tell you but its better to talk to you in person. I hope that we can. I love you more than anything and this is the hardest thing that Ive ever had to do. Im sorry that it had to be through email. It just couldnt wait, for either of us. Im sure you'll be happier.  

I love you Emily and I always have. I hope that you wont hate me.

I hope this doesnt come as a shock or surprise. I dont think it will. I have a feeling that youve been feeling this way for a while now......I know its what you want.

I love you..please dont forget that. Ill miss you more than you could ever know.

Please write me back.  

feed me buns, buns, and more buns

I just ate 2 cold green dumplings, 2 and a half pieces of French toast, and 2 red bean buns.
Thursday night my mother was away, I was on cat duty, I ate a pint of ice cream, I was watching people fall in the snow after hurtling down a mountain fast, their bodies twisted in unusual ways, the olympics are fascinating. Michael came over and I told him about Chris coming to New York on March 24th. I cried for 5 hours straight, I didn't get any sleep, I went to work the next morning with puffy eyes and a broken heart wearing a parrot dress because it was the last day of vintage dress week. I won by 18 points. I didn't feel like celebrating. When I woke up this morning I had an email from Chris, and one from Michael. Chris said skype isn't working so we can't talk and Michael said:

"You are everything I look for in a lover, friend, artist and human being and I don't want to lose you. Think really hard about what you want and what will make you happy and do it, don't think about other people's feelings for once (your mom, other guy, friends, even me) just do what's right for you and be honest with me and that's all I can ask. I just want to make you happy." 

So, I fucked up. I don't want to lose Michael, in trying to lose him I realized that. I don't want to lose Chris either but maybe Chris lost himself, maybe he's coming here too late. He has a plane ticket, March 24th he'll be here, but I don't think I'll be waiting, I think I stopped waiting a long time ago. I have to do what I should've done months ago. I have to end it.
Going in for another red bean bun or two, I need the strength.

a text from him to me

"Sorry, I don't want to make things more difficult. You said you would sort things out. I hope you do. Just know, I love you."

From: Mike Haff
Sent: February 16, 2010 8:19 pm

mamas and papas and mysteries

Monday Monday, 

so good to me.

I survived Valentine's Day without breaking any hearts, Michael doesn't have to know Chris is moving here until I know for sure that's what's really happening. I couldn't stand to spoil breakfast in bed, a movie, a trip to Chinatown to watch the sky cloud with glitter as red dragons danced for The Year of the Tiger to beating drums, or dinner reservations to some place fancy with live music and rose petals softer than silk, so I didn't... He's too good to me, I don't deserve him and I can't say who's heart will break more when it ends.

I am continuing on my quest for things that are okay.

This week Kat and I are competing for something we invented called "Vintage Dress Week." Every day she and I will come to work wearing a different vintage dress, we'll be judged by 3 coworkers daily on our dress, shoes, and total look. Scoring is as follows:

1 = ew gross

2 = try harder

3 = aiight

4 = i'd be seen with you

5 = hot hot shit!

One bonus point is to be given if your accessories are vintage too. Whoever gets the most points by the end of the week wins. We haven't really figured out a prize yet though, as of right now the loser just has to buy the winner a bottle of wine but I'm feeling like I might win and I want more than that. This is incredibly trivial but it's getting me out of bed in the morning and this is very okay.

So, I'm sitting on the train in my vintage dress buttoned up in my big red coat (also vintage) after a long day of work and competition and I'm looking up at an ad for something incredibly ridiculous called "The B1 Patch: The natural defense against hangovers," on the left side of the ad there's some stupid picture of three midriff bearing girls smiling wildly wearing a lame crop top that spells "B1" over their gigantic boobs. I'm about to look away out of contempt for society's idolization of bimbos when on the right side of the ad I spot gold. Something that's even better than okay...this: 

This handwritten note has got to be one of the greatest things I've seen on the subway in a really long time. Maybe even better than the crazy homeless lady who shouted repeatedly that her pants broke and she was hungry and let's not forget our Asian friends on their new year because it's gonna be some celebration and that the lady sitting on the other end of the train needs a makeover bad. No, this note is even better than that, not so much for it's content as for what it represents because those scrawled two sentences gave me a glimpse into the lives of 3 different people living in New York and I'm fascinated. First of all, how did this note end up sticking out of a subway ad? Did it fall out of Roxana's bag? Why would Roxana even remove the note from Anne's home? Clearly Roxana is the housekeeper, but I bet she keeps other houses in addition to Anne's. Maybe not though. Is Roxana old or young? What nationality is she? Roxana sounds Russian but that's not the norm for New York City housekeepers. Does she live off the R line too? Where do Anne and Sanford live? Could Roxana have perched the note on the edge of the B1 ad herself? Why would she do that? I don't know much about Roxana except that she's a housekeeper, could possibly live off the R line, and she occasionally takes notes written by employers and sticks them not in the trash, but in her bag, maybe even perched in subway ads. I know a little more about Anne, like that she must be pretty wealthy to have her own stationary and housekeeper and a son she chose to name "Sanford." She writes in caps and she writes fast. She doesn't know how to spell "vacuum" without a spellcheck, and she didn't think about closing the other end of her parenthesis. She wants people to like her so she's polite and isn't afraid to use exclamation points. What's with the scribbles on the bottom? Is that her signature? Maybe she's a doctor? I couldn't believe my luck to be dealt this note which provided me with a first and last name and I had all these unanswered questions so I took the opportunity to google her. Guess what? I'm pretty sure I found her on facebook. Creepy? I don't care. It was fucking creepy that the note she wrote to her housekeeper was sticking out of an ad for a hangover remedy. Anyway, I think this could be her http://www.facebook.com/people/Straton-Anne/543145980 I'm not her friend so I can't see her page but I can see that she's a fan of a restaurant called "Paradiso" which is in New York and that many of her friends live in New York and that in her picture she's wielding a baby boy who looks about nap age, could that be Sanford? I think so. How many Ann Stratons do you think there are with a little boy living in New York City? There can't be too many, this must be her. Oh and Sanford, without even having seen his adorable face on facebook I know from this note that his name is Sanford Straton (I bet he has a killer middle name too, I hope whatever it is doesn't start with an 'S'), his family is loaded, he's on a strict schedule and diet, his parents are hoping for ivy league, and his dad has been known to throw on a tux, okay, I wouldn't have known the tux part without facebook's help but the rest is apparent. 

Maybe I should've left this gem of a note perched on it's B1 subway ad to make someone else's day too, but I think it was a gift and I'm not so sure many other people would even notice and I bet that half of the one's who did wouldn't even care, the other half, well, I don't care about them, I got to it first. 

I'm grateful for vintage dresses and hot hot shit and Roxana and Anne and Sanford Straton. Thanks for being okay. 

 

be mine

My father and I have a terrible relationship. I didn't speak to him for 5 years, from the time I graduated high school up to a little less than a year ago when my grandmother died while I was ending a two month stay in Berlin. I knew she was sick, people on his side of the family kept trying to reach out to me, to get me to call her, but I felt abandoned by all of them and couldn't bring myself to do anything but run away from my life month after month. When she died my life caught up to me and the feeling it left me with wasn't pretty. I tried to escape, to pretend I didn't need my father or my family but escaping doesn't stop your life from happening, it doesn't stop the people you love from dying. I came home after missing a wake and a funeral to anonymous hate mail written by someone in my family and after 5 years I finally caved and called my dad. He was in the middle of a thai chi class, he was breathing heavily, he was shocked to hear from me but sounded really happy.

This was last July. Since then we've seen each other 3 times and we've tried to maintain some semblance of a relationship but everything is complicated and I find myself ignoring his calls for months at a time. I last saw him in October, I last spoke to him in November. It's February, he left me another voicemail tonight, he wants to talk, I want to call him back, I want to make everything okay but a phone call isn't enough, I don't know what is so I want the whole thing to go away. 

Years ago, when I stopped talking to my dad I started to replace him with random boys and I've been replacing him ever since, filling the void however I can no matter how destructive it is to myself or the people around me. When Chris was impossible to get in touch with Michael replaced him, Michael fills the void but I don't know that he's really what I want or need. He's back from Jamaica, I told him I'd be his Valentine, I like him but maybe I've just been using him, maybe I've been leading him on. I don't know. Yesterday we stood on a street corner, Houston and Bowery, I had the light, I was saying goodbye, I was crossing the street but he stood there looking at me intently. I turned to leave, he shouted, "Are you gonna be my girlfriend now?!" 

And this is Michael, a 32 year old child, needy and impulsive, shouting on street corners at the most inappropriate of times. What did he expect me to say? I mean, really? 

I was looking across the street at the little outline of a person lit up in white, I was looking at my friends who had already made it across, I still had the light, I turned to him and said, "I don't know." 

He said, "What do you mean, 'you don't know?'" 

"I don't know," I said hurriedly.  

"All you have to do is say yes," he pleaded. 

I stepped into the street, the outline was lit up red and blinking, I was going to miss the light and be stuck there if I didn't make a run for it, "I don't know. I don't know. Can we talk about this tomorrow?" And with that I sprinted across white lines and black pavement, I left him standing alone on Houston and Bowery, answerless and probably embarrassed, I didn't look back. 

We didn't talk about what happened since, I'm supposed to go over there tonight but I haven't showered yet and I'm feeling completely unmotivated. Tomorrow's Valentine's Day, he promised he'd give me a really good one because I've never had a really good one before but I feel pressured and confused. Chris is most likely moving to New York in March, Michael is going to ask again if I'll be his girlfriend and I'll have to tell him this, I'll have to ruin Valentine's Day, I'll have to fuck up another relationship. 

I've always been into making Valentines. This one might get burned...

For Roy

swans are strange. 

And in case you were wondering, the man learning Italian is alive and well and still conjugating verbs. 

why i love chris

[2/7/10 7:06:41 PM]
emma leigh: lets not talk about football anymore
emma leigh: im going to pretend the superbowl is actually a celebration of a gigantic bowl
emma leigh: which you could fill with gigantic fruit
cb: uh....
cb: yeah
cb: that sounds good
emma leigh: and everyone could go to this gigantic bowl
emma leigh: and eat some of the gigantic fruit
emma leigh: and it would be super
cb: i want it to be a super bowl of coco krispies
emma leigh: oooh yea
cb: but there is no reason why there cant be two super bowls right next to each other
cb: one fruit filled
cb: and one filled with choco goodness
emma leigh: maybe there could be a whole bunch of super bowls
cb: sure
emma leigh: each one filled with something super
cb: super glue?
emma leigh: eh no
cb: thats super
emma leigh: birds might mistake it for water
emma leigh: and get stuck
cb: no
cb: it smells too bad
emma leigh: i think that would just be an accident waiting to happen
emma leigh: because these bowls that im picturing, they're huge
cb: im gonna have me a super bowl of soup
cb: ha ha ha we're stupid
emma leigh: pho!!!
cb: yeah
cb: that would be super
cb: ok ok
cb: stop
emma leigh: okay
emma leigh: im hungry now

Are you trying to pick me up?

Michael comes back from Jamaica tonight. I'm nervous. I think things have changed. For one thing I've talked to Chris almost every day since Michael left and it sounds like he really might move here. This is something Michael should know but might make him hate me, and then what if Chris doesn't end up coming here after all and I threw away things with Michael for nothing. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut for a while.
Also, since he left I've been getting hit on like crazy. I forgot what it's like to walk around sans a 32 year old 6 foot tall man and I can't say I hate the attention, boys say really stupid shit sometimes and it's hilarious. For example:

Tuesday, waiting for the train home
Train Creep: "You're gorgeous sweetheart."
Me: "Thanks."
Train Creep: "You got a boyfriend?"
Me: "Uh yea..."
Train Creep: "Want another one?"
Me: "Um no..."
Train Creep: "You think I could get your number?"
Me: "I'm sorry..."
Train Creep: "No? Alright."

Thursday, 2 boys in leather jackets standing on the corner
Leather Jacket #1: "That is a red coat."
Me: "Yes, it is."
Leather Jacket #1: "I like your coat."
Me: "Thank you."
Leather Jacket #2: "I like your face."
I laughed and walked away.

Saturday, waiting for my pizza
Strange man: "You have wicked eyebrows! God Bless!"

That strange man wasn't the first strange man to compliment my eyebrows, a cab driver did it once and then asked me if I'd marry him, I declined, but there's something really great about eyebrow compliments from men, like how is that something they even notice? I'm glad they do though because my eyebrows are pretty "wicked" if I do say so myself.

temere morte

The man learning Italian wasn't on the early train this morning.
Maybe he overslept...

If you're looking for hot water don't be shocked when you get burned a little bit

I'm having a White Stripes morning. My laptop is humming under my fingers while Meg and Jack wildly spin somewhere inside.
I cried all my makeup off last night. When I woke up my hair looked like this:

I've never seen bangs stick up like that before. I just ate a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and honey, I can still taste it.
It's Thursday, the sun is out, I have off today and the house to myself, except of course for all the cats who are running laps around the apartment, not Mr. Ferris Theodore though, he's too fat, so he's sitting near by looking at me. Sometimes I look at my cats and wonder if they have thoughts. I wonder if when they're looking at me they're wondering the same thing. I wonder if they feel depressed and isolated sometimes. I wonder what it's like to be completely covered in fur.
I have to draw 6 things before I allow myself to go anywhere today. A birthday card for Chanell, another one for Roy, a thank you card for Alex to give to her boyfriend's mom, a valentine, something in Michael's book, and I have to deface Audrey for February, she's going to be a nun.
Yesterday a man died on the train I ordinarily take to work, I was on the late train. When it pulled into the 59th street station the early train was across the platform with all it's doors ajar. The conductor announced that due to a sick passenger on the R train before us we were making express stops to Atlantic Pacific, some people who were on the earlier train boarded the late one. A woman was talking loudly to a man, she said the man on the train died. We stayed in the platform for a while, I saw EMTs doing things with tissues and cleaning supplies in the car directly across from mine, I would have been sitting in that car, I would have watched a man die. I wonder who it was, not the man who studies his Italian workbook every day I hope, he's been teaching himself Italian for years, I like watching him scribble his verb tenses over and over again on the sheets of paper he keeps tucked in his book.  I wonder how strange it must be, to wake up in the morning, get yourself showered and ready, get to the train, get on the train, and then die, in front of everyone on their way to work. I wonder how everyone on that train must have felt. I wonder how it happened. I wonder why the train conductor said "sick passenger" instead of "dead passenger," I guess that wouldn't be socially acceptable and people would freak out, but I'd rather know the truth. I wonder how many people know that a man on the early train died. I wouldn't have known had I not overheard that loud lady. I'm glad I was running late yesterday.
Chris resurfaced the past 2 nights, we finally had some much needed talks via skype, hence the crying off all my makeup last night. He said he's thinking of coming to New York, something that had he told me months ago would have made me the happiest girl in the world but now only makes me feel concerned. He sensed the change and it scared him. I said I didn't know how he expected me to feel, he's barely been in touch with me since I last visited in October, he's made hundreds of empty promises, he left on this tour and didn't care about how it made me feel, he hurt me more than anyone ever has and I'd probably be half dead right now had it not been for Michael scooping me up and making me feel like a human being again. I didn't tell him about Michael, it's something he doesn't need to know, but I did finally tell him how I've been feeling and it was a rude awakening, he got upset and went to bed, I woke up to an email this morning that said, "It's not fair the way I treated you, even if I didn't mean to do it, that makes it worse somehow. I just have to think about things." I should tell him he shouldn't come but a part of me still really wants him to, I still love him, he's never said he'd come to New York before, I wonder what it would be like to have him here, a part of me wants to see what would happen, maybe we could be happy again, maybe everything would be okay. But then there's Michael, if Chris finally took our relationship seriously and came here and tried to make things work then things with Michael would be over indefinitely, I don't know if I'm ready to lose him. I'm confused.

try to draw the way you feel