one year.

I left Richmond a year ago tomorrow. It was the worst day of my life, so far. Too hard. I said goodbye forever to two people I loved and will never see again, and to a city that makes me ache. 

He didn't look back when I boarded my flight. I stopped looking back months ago, even though it was months too late. I hope he is well, or as well as he can be. I hope he knows he made me the person I am today, and without him, I wouldn't be where I am today. He also showed me how to love, and how to be strong and stoic and selfless and brave. So, thank you, Wade. Thank you. I owe you more than you will ever know.

I said good bye to my grandmother that afternoon. She passed away a few days later. I get my fight from her, my feisty from her, and my brutal honesty from her. We never were very close, and I often felt like she hated me, but in the past year, I feel like i've figured her out as i've figured out myself. We are more alike than either one of us would probably have liked to admit.  So, Cheers, Nan. I know she and pop are partying like it's 1945 somewhere. 

And Richmond. What can be said that I haven't already said about that lovely fucked up city? The city where the old bricks suck the life out of you, and the cobblestones rip your soul from your body. I have never loved a city the way I love you, and I have never hated something I love so much before at the same time. I'll be back someday. It's inevitable. I know and have lived the curse already. Stay safe. Stay cool. 

Losing seemingly everything I thought I had really wasn't terrible. If you told me a year ago where i'd be now, and that I would honestly, whole-heartedly be happy, id laugh in your face and beg for another shot of whiskey. I made it through just fine, and it truly (as cliche as it sounds) has made me a better person. I couldn't have made it this far without the love and support of my friends - both near and far. I love you. And I am who I am because of you.  

spur of the moment halloween tattoo

oh, lawdy, lawd, what was i thinking?

stay hungry. stay free. and do the best you can. 

sink or swim

Watching "Celebrity Rehab" this afternoon triggered memories of Tawny Kitaen doing cartwheels across the hood of exotic cars in the Whitesnake "Here I Go Again" video. Because of this song (which is pretty fucking badass), I was inspired to blawg. So, um, thanks Tawny. Hope that coke problem clears up.

I've been very content and settled lately. Getting back to Brooklyn was the best thing I could have done for myself. I've been seeing lots of old friends, people I adore, and reconnecting with some old aquaintances. Work is good - I am finally one of those freaks who loves her job. Who am I? I barely know anymore. 

This past week was CMJ, so there were lots of parties and concerts and cocktails consumed. I also ran into more old friends - it was great to have people truly excited and happy that i'm back. I didn't think I realized how much I missed New York, my New York, until I got back here to Brooklyn. I missed all the quirky New Yorkisms I missed (and forgot!) until I saw them again. Passing familiar faces and places and spending too much money on a can of PBR - I missed it all. 

I have been (blush, blush) spending a fair amount of time with a gentleman friend, a gentleman friend with a penchant for Hall and Oates karaoke, who makes me laugh, and who I still get excited about seeing his number pop up on my caller ID. This is a good thing, no? Taking things very slowly and not stressing about it is all I am capable of at present, and that seems to be working very nicely. 

I've been dropping pounds (and jean sizes, hooray!) like mad lately. Feeling good. Looking (dare I say) good. Happy to wear my boots, tight jeans and scarves. Ready for my birthday, next month, and for the first half of my 20's (and all the bullshit that came with) to be over, and this past crazy year to be over. I have an appointment in a few weeks for my present to myself. Not telling, but you can figure it out, i'm sure. This is a perfect time of year. Beautiful, gorgeous, mature, hopeful autumn in New York. 

Listen: Autumn in New York - Billie Holiday

It's easier to leave than to be left behind

Well, here begins another chapter in my fucked up, whirlwind life. Melancholy is setting in, as i'm trying to pack up all of the "important" things and set off into Brooklyn. I'll be fine, i'll be great - this is what I want to be doing. For now at least.

Im sure, eventually, I will be regretful for all the things I didn't do this summer. But, really, hell, isn't that what the LIRR is for? Isn't that what days off are for?

I'm still trying to figure out if I should keep up on this blog or not. I probably will. It'll just be filled with nonsensical escapades from Brooklyn - yes, Williamsburg, everyones favorite hipster punchline. Hell, thats reason enough to keep writing, isnt it?

So, here goes. New start.

story of a girl

I accepted a job in the city this afternoon. I have nine days left of summer, nine days left of Long Island, nine days left of home.

I'm going to embrace these next nine days.

they say that all good things must end someday

There are two more weekends left in the summer. Then, as quickly as it came, summer will be gone. Having been down south for so long, I never realized how fast a NY summer was. The heat comes, typically, in July and lasts until August, and by the end of September, you're in boots and a jacket. Summer rolls in out here like the firehouse carnival - bringing with it glittering lights, interesting people, and wonderful food. Suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, you find yourself putting on a hoodie at night, and before you know it, summer has breezed out of town.

Having made a conscious effort to curb my self-destruction summer tour '08 (and having faceplanted on a rock, smashing my face to near bits) i've been able to cut myself off from the world completely and create my own little safe bubble. I feel like I perhaps should have done this from the start, when I first arrived back here. Shell-shocked and numb, I hibernated for about a week, then threw myself whole-heartedly into doing what girls like I do best - hitting the pub. Hell, anyone, on the heels of breaking up with their not-so-future husband would probably do the same. Or jump off a bridge. I jumped, alright, straight into salty townie bars. Ain't nothing wrong with that. So, now, after not going out for about the past 3 or so weeks, I feel much better. I can be the elusive girl again - not the local prodigal daughter (which I really am) but the mysterious, glamorous, fun and exciting one.

I will be getting a phone call in the next few days that may direct my next move. In a matter of days, if I get the news I am hoping for, I will be scrambling to pack up everything I have, and scrambling to find an apartment in Brooklyn. That's what I want. However, I see myself scrambling, should I get the job, to squeeze every bit of summer out of what time I have left here, and squeezing any bit of relaxation and lack of responsibility out of the slacker lifestyle i've done so well since November. That's not a bad thing, and honestly, being gone before winter is worth it.

It truly can happen anywhere...

"But, things like this don't happen here!"

I'm not really sure how to begin about this horrible incident. It is certainly something that must be told - as it is a HUGE story, and one that, sadly, hits far too close to home and effects the community (especially the local/bar scene, as, we know, i know well).

Where I can begin is this: I know the Public House. I was in fact, supposed to go out there the night this happened. I've spent many nights there, both eating with my grandparents and drinking with my friends. Never once have i ever seen it be rowdy or out of control. Granted, it
s crowded, and granted, in the summer there's certainly a different crowd, but it's always been a nice, clean, respectable place. I have friends who work there. Friends who go there. This could have been anyone, anywhere. It could have been one of my friends.

I've lived in horrible neighborhoods in horrible cities. I've seen bodies in the street and i've seen horrible things go down. However, I always had my guard up. I always knew what I was getting into. Never once have I ever felt unsafe at the Public House, and never once have I ever witnessed anything even remotely close to a scuffle there, let alone 2nd degree murder. My only encounters with bouncers at the Public House were them waving me in with a smile while waiving the cover (Secret local code), bumming a cigarette and having conversations on the lawn, and witnessing them asking patrons to politely remove their baseball caps. Yes, that's the extent of it.

Needless to say, I am shocked, horrified and stunned at this event. My heartfelt condolonces go out to Reister's family and children, friends and aquaintances. Also, my thoughts and support are with the Public House and their staff - who have always looked out for everyone who walks in their doors - I know that many of us are looking out for them at present.