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++++++++++++

Stalking
Lone Star Thomas
Goodies

phone home

1/30/03
I’m starting to think that maybe your body, or more specifically your brain, needs starch and sugar to perform properly because I’m starting to feel psycho. Like this entire week all I’ve felt like is yelling or hitting or being mean to people. Not for any particular reason or anything. I feel so aggro, as if waves of frustration, anger and mania are flowing through me, it’s kind of freaky like I’m going to explode. And it’s not as if anything abnormally irritating has happened in the past few days. Yesterday it was mouth noises, first this woman sat next to me on the subway and kept sucking her teeth. Not that ghetto way that also annoys me, but just plain sucking on them like she was trying to get marrow from a bone or something. I never talk to strangers, but I seriously had to refrain from asking her to stop. Every time she’d do it, I’d make a subtle grimace and that’s about as confrontational as I get. I considered sucking my teeth, as mimicry might subconsciously do the trick, or most likely incite violence. Then last night in the elevator after class this guy was making wet mouth noises like he was gagging on jello or slurping entrails, it was hideous. Then minutes later on the subway home (I’ve discovered that the 2/3 at 14th St. (from class) to the W/N/R (at Pacific) is a pretty damn efficient ride home. I don’t think it took more than 35 minutes, which is miraculous considering it takes me an hour to get to and from midtown at rush hour. And one of my criteria for a peaceful commute is the amount of walking up and down stairs because I hate stairs and this newly discovered set up has a ramp that leads straight from the Brooklyn-bound 2/3 platform right into the proper part of the station where my trains home are. This would not work going Manhattan-bound, however and would involve lots of twists, turns and stairs, but that isn’t relevant because I never go straight from home to class. (Now that I’m on roll boring you with my new, wonderful subway routes, I must mention that since the end of Oct. of early Nov., whenever it was I started this temp job that I’d been exiting Grand Central all sorts of different ways and it always baffled me when I’d pop out of my favorite exit how people got to the escalator that coincided with the same exit. I assumed it was 7 train people because their station is deeper and weird and accidentally went in an entrance that seemed closer to work only to find myself on the 7 train platform, and having to go up and down a million different staircases just to get to the 4/5/6 I wanted. Anyway, after some trial and error and taking random exits and getting totally disoriented outside, I finally figured out how to position myself and get to the escalator exit, it was a totally illogical direction to walk, but it worked. It was quite the momentous occasion. I only regret that I won’t be commuting to midtown much longer so I can experience the lazy joy of not having to lift my legs up and down.) One source of irritation is this job, partly that they’re making us call people up who haven’t sent in their surveys and do them over the phone, which is heinous because if these schools haven’t followed directions or complied in the past, then why would they want to answer random things about tuition and enrollment over the phone? And the real issue is that I hate talking to strangers on the phone. I didn’t think this was going to be a big deal because my original plan was to quit this job at the end of Jan., which would’ve been tomorrow. However, this is dependent upon when my student loan comes in. Today, I was lead to believe this might not be for another month. I cannot work here full time and do school full time for a month. I’ve coasted the last couple weeks because the homework has mostly been reading a lot and writing short paragraphs. But research papers and field work loom near and when am I going to do all this crap? And to add insult to injury, after depositing my paycheck today (for two week’s work) and paying my rent I have $37 left over. I have literally hundreds of dollars worth of bills waiting to be paid, so this isn’t so good. Obviously, I can’t quit this job, this annoying job that takes all my time and doesn’t even pay enough to cover minimal living expenses. See, I told you I was feeling foul. Oops, they keep quotas here, really, and I haven’t done any work all afternoon because I’m feeling too sour to concentrate. What is it they give colicky babies? Maybe that’s what I need (as long as it doesn’t involve sugar or flour, of course).

1/28/03
Dating seems to be such a thing these days. I don’t know when it happened exactly, but I think everyone I know is not only presently single, but actively out and about where maybe before they didn’t seem overtly in the market (on another odd note, it seems like everyone’s doing diets and nonsense, people who would never do that sort of thing. Is it the new year or do you just go nuts once you hit 30? Which reminds me, to remind you that I’m still doing the horrible low carb thing. It’s been over three weeks now and I honestly don’t know that it’s doing much of anything. I’ve been tired and cranky all week and I’d be surprised if I’ve lost more than 3-4 pounds – what’s all this crap I hear about boundless energy and losing 15 pounds in less than a month? And for you naysayers, I’m not cheating one bit, I even did that pee test using those diabetic sticks to see if your body is in ketosis, i.e. burning up abnormal amounts of fat and carbohydrates, and my stick turned pink like it was supposed to -- God, maybe I’m just pregnant – that would sort of ruin my plans of becoming a lean, mean fat burning machine). So, I don’t mind being non-single, especially since I don’t know how sharp my man-snagging skills are (as if they were ever up to par) these days, and I honestly never went on a date in my life (not a real, picked up in a car, taken to a nice restaurant, cocktails, ride home, kiss good-night sort of set-up, at least) up until the person I’m currently seeing so it’s not as if I know the protocol. But part of me half-wants to put up a nerve.com profile just to see what wretchedness I’d attract. In the meantime I’m just entertained by the tales of others. Most amusing was hearing a friend, Tanya, was asked out by Ken Ober (don’t tell me you don’t remember Ken Ober) and accepted, even though she thinks he’s too old and not realistic since he lives in L.A. anyway. Third-rate former game show hosts are the best. This one is far, far removed from a first-hand source, but as my own life is so overloaded to the point of blandness I must take refuge in random folks’ fun. Keep this straight: Jessica’s nerve.com date’s old girlfriend is supposedly dating Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre (apparently he’s a writer in Maine these days) as well as some guy Nigel on Animal Planet. The part that’s funny is that Nigel is better in bed because he’s an animal expert and gets off seeing and hearing animals humping, while Leatherface is lousy in bed but a serious cuddler. The best of both worlds, some might think. Who knew Leatherface liked to spoon? This is totally unrelated to blind dating, but one of my recent cable movie that caught my attention (I watch cable like a fiend on weekends to make up for my own tiny, broadcast stations only TV time during the week) was “Donnie Darko.” I was pleasantly surprised by this movie, it was really funny…yet, dark. Huh, who would’ve thought from the name. For some reason I always thought it was an uninspired teen cult flick (they do a weekly midnight showing of it here and it’s hard to not think “Rocky Horror Picture Show”) . Maybe I was just responding to the time period and ‘80s soundtrack goodies like The Church (I never thought much of “Under the Milky Way” [my sister had the album, I never bought it] at the time, but whenever I hear it now like I did recently in a Banana Republic at a NJ outlet mall, I get all nostalgic) and Echo and the Bunnyman. I don’t know, it makes me mildy hot for Jake Gyllenhaal even though I know he’s gross. He’s totally like a Toby Maguire, not my type at all really, but blue-eyed, brunette, baby-faced and that gets me, even though in real life they’re the types that say crap like “I like girls who don’t wear make up” on late night talk shows. Barf. “Carny” with Jodie Foster and Gary Busey was mesmerizing (how can you go wrong with a Busey flick?) in its creepy early ‘80s, teenage runaway joins the circus way. There’s even a scene where young, naïve Jodie Foster flirts with lesbians to get them to spend money at her booth. I used to see the video all the time at the store when I was a youngster and would get mildly creeped out. On the other hand, “America’s Sweethearts” is creepy, not in a good way. Like you need to see another celebrity in a fat suit. Maybe my perception is all screwed up, but I really thought that in Kiki’s (that’s disturbing that I remember the character’s name, I never remember crap like that about only-on-in-the-background movies) pre 60-pound weight loss scene she was only mildly chunky, not over the top blubbery like they’d have you believe. She just looked like some person you’d see on the street, not some Shallow Hal morbidly obese creature, but then I guess it’s supposed to be grotesque and sad because it’s Julia Roberts and her character is so charming and beautiful now and don’t you love a good ugly duckling story? And can I possibly stand it until “Maid in Manhattan” makes it onto cable?

1/22/03
I don’t know what it is with me and jobs with horrible climate control. I had three in a row without air conditioning and now I’m currently being tortured by a heating problem. It’s odd because the rest of the office seems normal, but the area where it’s mainly temps is like an ice box, and I’m not being melodramatic, I’m wearing my wool winter coat, silk long underwear that’s usually toasty and I am freezing. I can barely feel my fingers. It’s 20 degrees outside and I’m not sure how much warmer it is in here. Everybody’s complaining, not just me (though I’m the only one wearing a coat). All I can say is there must be some labor law violation in this. So, I start my first class tonight, which makes me nervous. This could be the beginning of the end. There’s no way I can work full-time, go to school full-time, try to pitch and write stories (if you’re in NYC, keep your eyes out for a thingy I’m writing for the Feb. 1 “NY Post.”) and keep my yammering up on this site. I’m aim to look for part-time work a.s.a.p. because I think I’m going to have lots of papers to write and I haven’t written a paper in like ten years and even then it was art school level writing. I’m not sure if I’m going to have a life for the next year and a half (as if my present life is so chock-full and fulfilling). Speaking of, it struck me this weekend that 2003 is going to be huge for changes and decisions. I don’t know what exactly or if it’ll be for the better or worse, but it’s going to be big. Not necessarily for myself, I mean for everyone. In the last month it already seems like everyone I know is going through all sorts of phases, some benign, some scary. On a side note, I don’t know what’s going on but I’ve been bit by the snooping bug. For the last week I’ve felt like spying and digging up dirt on all sorts of people (some that could get me into mild trouble, at least emotionally). Should I attribute this sudden renewed fervor for stalking to this heinous low carb dalliance? I feel like my brain is all sparked (though not so much today as I’m slipping into hypothermia) and I’ve become irrationally compelled to dig into the lives of strangers and vague acquaintances.

So, class wasn’t so bad after all. I have a feeling that most of the homework/papers won’t be hard, at least intellectually, it’s just going to be time consuming. I was originally worried about simply getting my ID since I didn’t have a schedule or registration receipt or anything, but the real trauma ended up being the photo. I seriously don’t photograph well, and I’m not just saying that because I’m in denial and can’t admit I’m as homely as my photos would lead one to believe. Just as some Miss America contestants have that something special that deems them most photogenic, it’s only sensible that there are other on the opposite side of the spectrum. Now that digital cameras are all popular I’ll be out with friends and they shoot, delete, shoot, delete like ten times taking a photo of me because none will come out right. I’ve always have a weird expression or am looking the wrong way or seem all bloated and shiny. I didn’t have much faith in the distracted security guard making the IDs. She started off on the wrong foot by saying, “Kristi, right?” while looking directly at my printout saying Krista. I emphasized the A twice for her as she awkwardly typed one key at a time with her 2” long airbrushed nails. I stand against the wall with the bright light in my face and she never said when she was taking the photo so I grimaced/smiled for like ten seconds till she said, “you’re done.” A few minutes later I heard my name, “Kristi” being called out and the card handed to me was by far the most hideous thing I think I’ve ever seen. And besides the grotesquely unflattering photo where I’m not even looking at the camera, she spelled my last name wrong. Krista Gracia, beast extraordinnaire. This is not an issue to waste time worrying about, it’s not like a drivers license photo you must live with for years, but it irks me nonetheless.

1/16/02
I don't know if it's because I started drinking coffee again (after waking up hivey and rashy yesterday, I took a Benedryl which totally put me into a coma. I was so tired I couldn't lift my legs up stairs and felt like I was going to forget to breathe and swallow, so I had a coffee at work - and in no time I felt like a million bucks. I'll keep off the alcohol like I'm supposed to, and the damn sugar and starch, but caffeine? C'mon, I need something in my life) or if this Atkins crap about increased energy and elevated mood is actually true and just kicked in, but I've been especially buoyant the past few days. I even got to thinking about good ol' Hank Thomas, which I haven't done in ages. I went crazy today at work trying to find a photo of his wife, "aspiring actress" (i.e. more hard up for work than Hank) Kelly Hill Thomas, and scouring silly message boards, getting all giddy and funny in the stomach. I still can't deal with the fact that he's married. No, I don't/didn't want to marry him, I don't even think about him much or in that way, but dammit, he should be single forever, always. He's a lost cause now…hey, don't 50% of marriages end in divorce? Then I got gung ho on making this week's Minimalist column meal Pork with Turnips and Anchovies, (I think this link will be dead by next Wed., but such is life - it's all about the here and now). I usually read it, but rarely cook from it. But jeez, I'm a big fan of turnips (and thank God, because it's a ubiquitous substitute for potatoes in all these Atkins adherent recipes) and pork, and even though the ingredients sound sort of gross together I had the feeling it would work, and the whole thing was disgustingly low carb, to boot. Not only am I currently obsessed with my food intake, but I'm also a skinflint so I knew the world had really turned to my favor when at the crappy Met grocery on 5th & 16th they had both pork shoulder and turnips on sale. With the addition of a tin of anchovies (and tomatoes already at home), the whole shebang only came up to $4, and it made four servings. I feel like a cheapskate, carb-deprived genius.

1/15/03
I've been so pleasantly surprised lately. But of course not before being annoyed first. After a year and a half of carting my laundry eight blocks up a hill, in a rickety bag that bruises my shoulder with the plastic strap, it finally occurred to me that I could just use this old duffel bag/suitcase with wheels that's been sitting in my closet. Duh. I was so pleased with myself for the discovery, then I swear to God, that very week a brand new laundromat opened two blocks from me. I'd wasted all this time breaking my back, and now I couldn't even put my new invention to work. I do fear the curse of Greenwood Heights, though. While there are still Grand Opening banners up (it's been a couple months now), I noticed a new for sale sign in the window. What's up with this neighborhood? The doomed Last Stop Deli on my corner has burned through yet another owner, the third since I've lived here. The gas station on my other corner just went out of business, the whole lot has been surrounded with tall, metal fencing. I have dreams of what might go in like a candy store or Asian stationery store or real grocery store with more than four aisles and ones where two carts can actually pass by each other and it stays open past 7pm. Ha, most likely it'll be another gas station since that's obviously what it was built for, or fast food or a car wash. But to the good part, I was doing my laundry last night and while it's closer, it's much less pleasant, nowhere to sit, too cramped, no video games, vending machines, TVs that play English language shows, jukebox or a freakin' parking lot like the fancy, spic and span Clean Rite up the hill. But I'd heard there was a new Asian grocery on 37th and 3rd so even though it was bitter cold I decided this needed to be checked out. At a weird, isolated location under the BQE, near the Costco and adult bookstores, I didn't have high hopes for the generically named Food Mart Super Store, but oh my goodness, it's the best thing that's ever happened. I've always dreamed of a spacious Asian market walking distance (realistic walking distance, not the 30 blocks I can conceivably walk to the Sunset Park Chinatown) from my apt. It's still not fully stocked, the space is a little sparse, but it clearly has a S.E. Asian bent, my favorite, and lots of Vietnamese goodies I'd never seen before, not to mention a meat counter, produce section, extensive candy aisle and a Malaysian restaurant, Garden Café, on one side touting "Chinese Breakfast only $1." I'm so there (if only I could get up early enough to eat breakfast and could eat things other than meat, cheese and eggs). The baffling part is the declaration of American Chinese Mexican on the bag and free calendar they gave out. The Mexican seems nonexistent (though not the Mexican teen sweeping the floor who was yelling at what appeared to be his boss [not Mexican]), which is alright I guess since the neighborhood's doing OK in that department. The upsetting thing is that I couldn't eat anything being all carb-impaired at the moment. I certainly could've bought meat, seafood or produce, but places like this are so damn snacky -- taro buns, turnip cakes, noodles, glutinous rice, mung bean paste - ah hell, why is everything that's so good so starchy? Very disheartening, to say the least. This "lifestyle" ain't going to last much longer I predict. I ended up with some laver, dried seaweed sheets and some crazy boxed "marinated soy snacks," that are really good fake meat things in sauce, but I have no idea what the flavors are supposed to be because the writing is in Chinese and the ingredients in all three varieties were listed as "soy bean, soy sauce, salt, spicy." Love that spicy. I can only assume that I'm eating the marinated soy snacks improperly because I could easily eat the whole box as one meal and they're saying on the back that it contains 10 (1 Tbs) servings (they also say there's 0 fat and 0 carbohydrates and I don't really believe that, I swear there was sesame oil in sauce, which must have fat in it and I know soybeans contain carbs - I can't even eat the edamame I found in my freezer). I hope I didn't accidentally fall off the low carb wagon over some measly fake meat product. Regardless, now that I know such new temptations are so nearby, this "lifestyle" isn't long for this world.

1/13/03
Well, I'm typing on a new computer, not the keyboard, but the computer is new (to me). It just occurred to me that I've never owned a new computer. This new one is a result of James buying a new one for himself. My previous one was an extra one he didn't need (he's got like a million computers, which I'll never understand). The one before was this old Macintosh IIci that I bought myself, used, in '96 and I'm sure I'm still paying off the $600 on my credit card (I almost crapped myself a couple weeks ago when I realized how much credit card debt I have. I was under some misguided impression that it was like $5,000, when in actuality it's more than twice that. The thing is I don't use it all the time and neither for frivolous nor big ticket items, so that was frightening. Suze Orman would have a shit fit. That woman is so incredibly unstalkable, she makes my skin crawl. She's bossy, but totally useless with her advice like she's always going on about stocks, buying homes, mutual funds, IRAs and whatever and this means nothing to me because I have no money, so when somone called into her show and had tons of credit card and student loan (ha, I'll be taking out a huge one later this month) debt and was unemployed I was eager to see what brilliance Suze would come up with. She told the woman she needed to go to church and that she should donate to charity. Er, yes, just the practical advice I was looking for. She's about as sage as Oprah with all her constant [well, I don't know about constant, I only catch the show maybe once or twice a month] crap about weight and inner pain and how "it's not about the Butterfingers, it's about 400 pounds of issues [talking to a 400 pound woman, adjust accordingly]" Maybe I'm not the most in touch with my emotions (actually, I think I am hyper-aware of my emotions) but I really can't deal with every personal ill being attributed to inner turmoil. Suze Orman also insists that people who have debt are fat because debt is such a horrible, painful secret, and that once women (I'm saying women because I can't imagine a guy stuffing his face because he can't pay his VISA bill) admit openly they are in financial dire straits a weight is lifted metaphorically and physically. OK, so I bitch all the time about money trouble, heck I owe over $10,000 on credit cards -- do you hear me world? The pounds are melting as I type. Thanks Suze. Oh, and one of the Oprah episodes I happened to catch last week, I think, had the beast herself, Suze Orman, on. The two of them up there smugly feel-gooding everyone was a personal affront [of course I had to watch the entire show]). As of this very minute, you can have a Macintosh IIci for $1 on ebay, it's sad, the depreciation of computer equipment. I'd throw the damn thing out (it sits under my desk at my feet because I don't know what else to do with it) but I can't bear to part with it. Same thing with any shoes I paid more than $100 for, they out of style, but I just can't part with them even if they're useless. Maybe around 2012 it'll all be retro, or the way things get recycled lately, it could be as soon as 2004. So, this newer computer is good so far, faster, and I can listen to music and watch movies and all that superfluous internet crap that I previously wasn't privy to. I'm poking around music sites: what's the big deal with Interpol? Semi-interesting, but not that impressed. Now PAS/CAL, this is damn catchy, it's the happiest, poppy pap I've heard in a long time. Keyboards, handclaps, ba ba bas, jangly goodness. While I'm summing up entertainment in short sentences..."Signs" scared me a little, but ultimately frustrated me. I don't get why the aliens came to earth and why Mel Gibson's family stayed hiding in their house. I know it's more about the internal drama, a man regaining his faith, blah blah, but I wanted to know more about the aliens. Morvern Caller" is one of those sort of painful, little dialogue foreign movies that I always must see, even though they frequently baffle me. The director did the incredibly bleak "Ratcatcher" so I figured this would be in a similar vein. I liked it, but it left so much open and without explanation. See, I’m a very literal person, I need traditional narratives and characters that say what they mean instead of expressing it with actions and facial features. Maybe reading the book would help me out. I think I’m more of a book person than a film one. “Atonement” was a book I’d never heard of because I’m a dullard, but my sister sent it to me for Christmas, and I’ve since discovered it was a critical favorite of 2002, even making it onto the “NY Times’” top seven picks for the year (why seven, I don’t know). I was reluctant to read it at first, it’s a historical drama, a war story, period piece, very writerly, near flowery descriptions, the kind of stuff I loathe. But once I got into it, I read the whole thing over the weekend between Christmas and New Year’s. Oh my god, it was so good, a total tear jerker (also something I hate), I can see it being turned into a horrible Hollywood movie with like Josh Hartnett and Kirsten Dunst as the tragic lovers and maybe they could drag up that annoying Lacey Chabert (Claudia from Party of Five) to play the sinister/innocent sister role. Anyway, I decided I need to read more fiction because it’s one of the few engrossing things in the world, just buy a new book every time I finish one, even if it seems a waste of money because I end up reading them too quick. Not quite a resolution, but a good idea.

1/9/03
So I said I didn’t want to work a full week, but I didn’t mean to get a day off by becoming violently ill. Tuesday night I don’t know what happened, but from about midnight on, I was running to the bathroom practically once an hour to puke or crap (or both at the same time once – it’s comical [to me] now, though I barely saw the humor in it at the time). I couldn’t go to work yesterday for fear of another onslaught. I was only mildly queasy yesterday, but woke up from a nap with my chest covered in hives/welts, which completely freaked me out . That would seem to imply some sort of allergic reaction (though in my typical hypochondriacal fashion, I was convinced for about 20 minutes that I had typhoid. Well, the disease does involve puking and “rose spots” on the chest) What I can’t figure out is if I was food poisoned or if I’m having a seriously bad reaction to this whole low carb thing. I’ve never heard of anyone getting violently ill from removing sugar and flour from their diets. Maybe I’m an addict, a total starch junkie going through withdrawal. I still feel crappy today, like my muscles hurt and I’m really spacey. Oh god, see, I just had something terribly brilliant I was going to write and now I can’t remember what the hell I was thinking about. My body can’t handle this strict regimen. My sister thinks I’m nuts, and I don’t blame her, but then she’s a vegan who consumes a diet of like 95% carbs so she’s not the best judge. The problem is I don’t know what to eat. You know how if you get sick off something, like root beer floats when I was like 8, you never want them again. I consumed eggs, bacon, blue cheese, avocado and green curry Tuesday night, and the thought of any of those ingredients make me feel like I’m going to hurl. And like what else can you eat for breakfast besides eggs that doesn’t have carbs? Ew, I didn’t want to become one of those people who talks about dieting (oh, excuse me, it’s now the "Atkins Lifestyle") on their webpage. I’m hoping by the weekend I’ll have normalized and discovered more enlightening things to talk about in 2003.