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9/27/02
Sometimes I feel so out of touch. Not so much because of my advancing age, but due to location. Everything here is so NYC-centric. I've always been critical of that, but more and more I've fallen into the local trap. I occasionally browse the West Coast papers online, but usually just to see what food trends they're talking about, nothing cultural. So, it struck me as really bizarre to recently discover that Morrissey's fan base is mostly Mexican-American. I guess this was written about in "Spin" and the "L.A. Times" not too long ago, but I had no idea. Why don't I know about these things? Just a couple weeks ago, Morrissey was on the Late Late Show With Craig Kilborn two nights in a row and I was like, "who listens to Morrissey anymore?" I mean, he performed, "Every Day is Like Sunday," which is old Morrissey, like 15 years old, though I remember at the time it came out, it was like the new Morrissey because he was solo and not with The Smiths. God, if anything makes you feel older. So, Mexican kids' obsession with Morrissey is old news, that's just strange. I do recall my friend Todd, telling me how on a trip to So Cal he heard a Smiths' song in Spanish on the radio and how peculiar that seemed. Little did I know the region is rife with Hispanic Smiths cover bands. This is one of the more interesting pieces written on this phenomenon. I don't know, youth culture is starting to scare me. Now that kids who were born in the '80s are drinking age, all hell's broken loose. I heard Michael Jackson played at two bars last weekend, not to mention Lucky Star era Madonna and the Go Go's. I don't really mind the whole new wave of new wave or electroclash, or whatever you want to call it trend, but mainstream, top 40 music from the '80s wasn't cool then and it's certainly not cool now, no matter how much time has passed. I figure a lot of the proponents of this genre were toddlers during its hey day, maybe that's an excuse? I can't think of an equivalent. Maybe how there were kids in stoner kids high school who wore tie dye and were into Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Bob Marley, Grateful Dead or whatever. There were probably some 30 year olds who thought it was silly for youngsters to embrace this stuff. I don't know, it seems different though. What really gets me is fashion, how its closing in on itself. The '80s are big, fine. I've been joking how it's high time the '90s start kicking in and I think they are. Trend alert: Docs. This is just wrong, really Dr. Martens are more '80s in my mind, but for the masses maybe it was early '90s. Past dispatches from this site have sung the praises of Converse high tops and Birkenstocks. So, when are all the fashionistas going to start wearing thermal underwear, ripped cut-offs and flannel shirts? Soon, I'm guessing. Yesterday I saw "New York Magazine" talking about "glunge," their cutesy combo of glamour and grunge. Time frames for retro are shrinking so fast that it's only a matter of time before designers' fall collections become exactly the same as their spring lines from the same year. Six months have passed? Yes, let's recycle that look.

9/25/02
Sometimes I feel I don't get good value from books. Fiction, I mean. Assuming I have the free time, once I start reading I won't stop until I finish. This was never a big deal as a kid or when I used to work at a public library. I could cart home as many newish releases as I felt like (even though there were waiting lists for the public). But now going to a library is inconvenient, ordering books online is more efficient even though I hate paying for the privilege of reading. I don't usually buy new hardbacks, I don't even read that much anymore, though I'll half-know what's going on in the world by reading reviews. I'm clueless about bestsellers. Like I never read "The Corrections" when it came out and now I don't want to, it's too late. It's like how I never watched "Buffy" when it first came out, even though everyone seemed to love it, and it's been on so long now that there doesn't seem like a point in trying to jump in. Once a show you've never watched has an offshoot, you're officially cut out of the loop. Speaking of shows I've never watched, who on earth is an "Everybody Loves Raymond" fan?! What's the deal with this show, and why did it win so many Emmys? All I remember is a library janitor, Omar, telling me about four years ago about how funny "Raymond" was. But he would also tell me jokes translated from Spanish with punchlines that depended on puns so they made no sense, and were most unfunny in English. I classify "Raymond" with shows like "King of Queens" family-based sitcoms that are wildly popular, yet with absolutely no one I know. I'm going to start watching this freakin' show every single week starting next Monday at 9pm with the episode entitled "Homework." When Ray complains that Ally has too much homework, Debra suggests he discuss it with her teacher at "Open School Night." Hmm...funny, right? I need to understand the appeal even if it pains me. So, a couple weeks ago I got an email reminder that I hadn't used an Amazon.com gift certificate (I never knew I had one--I must've deleted the original email--it probably went straight into my junk folder and I never saw it) I'd been given for my birthday so I bought a couple books including "Gardening for Dummies" (the internet is so great that way, I would never buy a Dummies book in person) and "The Lovely Bones," which is one of those talked-about, bestsellers that would rob me of my money. I read all 328 pages last Thurs. I guess that means I liked it. I won't go into the plot or any of that, I'm not much for book reviewing. Now that I think about, books may be better value than movies. And I always have thought that a good engaging book is as entertaining as a movie (which is not a sentiment shared by everyone, I've discovered). I didn't pay full price for "The Lovely Bones," but if I did at $21.95 and say it took me six hours to read that cost me $3.66 an hour. Saturday I saw "The Secretary" which was totally funny, dirty and memorable--I kept thinking about it all weekend and that's rare with movies. Beneath all the spanking, cutting and jacking off, it's essentially a love story. As someone said somewhere, "it's the best romantic spanking film in ages." The MPAA rating cracks me up, I understand citing things like "strong sexuality" or "language," but "depiction of behavioral disorders" is a weird reason to contribute to an R rating. "One Hour Photo" was rampant with behavioral disorders. It's definitely one of my favorite films this year. One ticket cost $11 ($10+$1 service charge for ordering online) and the running time is 104 minutes so that averages about $6.36 an hour (don't hold me to that exact number--I'm no math whiz). Even breezing through an entire book in a day is cheaper than going to a movie it seems. Here's to old fashioned entertainment.

9/19/02
It's weird the way things sometimes turn out. Back in July when I was temping, I sent out a bunch of blind resumes to anywhere I'd like to work (there's nothing like temping to drive you to desperate means). Only one really went anywhere, which ended up not working out in the end. The resume I sent to the People Magazine Research Center (I can't remember the official title) got this long, detailed response about how their staff is small, no one ever leaves, but they'll keep my resume on file (they always say that). It was a total librarian response, formal with too much information, but I guess it was better than no response, which is what I usually get. So, Tuesday I received an email from this guy saying they have a part-time temporary opening, might have a full-time one in early 2003, and he remembered that I was interested in working there. That was really surprising, I think it's the first time I've been told, "we'll keep your resume on file" and anything has actually resulted. I interviewed yesterday, the job sounds interesting, they seemed to like me, but the atmosphere, pace, workload and staff are a little intimidating, and I have no idea what it pays. When I came home yesterday I was dismayed to see an ad for the position on HotJobs. This always happens. Through whatever means, I'm always the first person to get an interview, then the company officially posts an ad and the process drags on forever. I felt pretty confident after leaving the interview, like I was enthusiastic, knowledgeable and asked good questions. But after reading the details in their want ad, I wasn't so sure, I didn't meet all the criteria, I didn't know all the databases they'd listed and I don't have my MLS (which isn't required, but preference is given to them). It was a really crazy ad for a part-time temp job, it was at least four times longer than the Entertainment Weekly library job (which is the same company, but the vibe was completely different: smaller, laid back, friendlier, maybe a little hipper for lack of a better word. Requests are handled through email rather than by phone [I hate the phone]. I'm curious if this discrepancy in work environment is reflected in the pay). I'd all but given up on the EW job since more than a month has passed since I interviewed, but out of the blue I received a call from them yesterday wanting me to come in again. So, I have two AOL Time Warner library jobs floating around--wouldn't you think I would at least get one or the other? I mean, I'm trying to be positive. I'd prefer the EW one, but jeez, I guess beggars can't be choosers. A couple months ago, my address was selected to be part of an ongoing US Census employment survey. I say my address, because supposedly it has nothing to do with you, they're targeting locations, not people. Once a month someone stops by or calls asking questions like "Did you work between August 1 and September 1?" or "Does anyone in your household own a farm?" They gather statistics so when you hear reports on the news like "unemployment is down 1.5%" this is where they're getting their numbers from. Last week when they called the questions were all about volunteering, they kept pressing on if I'd volunteered in the last year. I said "no." Then they clarify, "You may be involved with things you don't consider volunteer work, for example helping at school or church. Have you volunteered in the last year?" No, isn't that what I already said? Then they wanted to know why I hadn't volunteered. Pretty much because I don't feel like it, but I said, "because I haven't found any organizations that are a good match for me." So, now I'm a bad person because I'm unemployed and don't help others with my free time? Jeez. Last week I was walking home from the gym, all sweaty, in a hurry as usual when I passed a middle-aged blind man. He started yelling "hey" when I was already half way down the block and I was like "oh no, I hope he's not talking to me." He wanted to know where 769 Fifth Ave. was, he was right in front of it, the Time Warner Cable office. It made me wonder how he got there in the first place, and how do blind people find addresses anyway? I told him he was right in front of the building, but he wanted me to walk him to the door. A young black guy was watching us and halfheartedly asked if he needed help, like it was his duty to help a black senior citizen, but that he didn't really want to and he quickly took off. I felt bad for the guy, I didn't want him wandering aimlessly so I tried guiding him to the door. He was grabbing my arm all hard and I walked him to the entrance, but then he wanted me to walk him inside to where the line was, so I did and that was about enough for me. I'd done my good deed. Then he says, "I'm going to pay my bill, then I need to catch the bus across the street" like he expected me to wait there with him and escort him around the neighborhood. I really felt that was pushing it, I also felt he wouldn't have made such demands if the young black guy had helped him, that he was testing my limits. Call me mean, I don't know, I'm distrustful and don't think elderly, handicapped folks are above taking advantage of people. I had to go, I politely told him so, and left. I'm not a caretaker, people get paid for that, right? I guess I don't have the volunteering personality.

9/16/02
Not that it matters much, but I realized after I put up the previous entry that I said I hadn't left my neighborhood all week and that wasn't true. I can't inaccuracy, so for the record, I went to the doctor Tues. It just didn't feel like I left the neighborhood since the office is on the same block as the subway stop and I literally went and came straight home. I barely absorbed enough Manhattan to qualify. Depending on the time of day, aren't you supposed to meet friends for like lunch or drinks or go shopping together or something when you come into "the city"? I think you are. So, this weekend I went to a new Cuban restaurant, Havana Central, that was only so-so (I ordered Fried Pork Chunks--doens't that sound unappetizing? I was hoping for fatty, crispy pieces like Filipino lechon or Thai fried pork, but it was lean, white meat, probably a better cut of meat, but charred and dry), afterward I saw "One-Hour Photo" which had the same effect as the restaurant, like in a week, you'll have forgotten you ever ate there or saw that movie. I thought the movie was sort of alright in premise, but seemed formulaic, two-dimensional and heavy-handed, like it had to explain everything to you. I used to cite Robin Williams as one of my most unfavorite celebrities/comedians, right up there with Jim Carey and Bill Cosby, but he's not offensive in his recent darker roles like this and in...er, I can't remember the movie (not so remarkable a flick, I guess) he just did with Al Pacino in Alaska, I even saw it...well, that movie. The freaky thing was that the audience kept laughing at inappropriate moments. Now, I'm usually the king of this, I could barely sit quietly through "I am Sam," but I couldn't see the humor in what people were laughing at. Like when Robin Williams was taking a dump in the family he was obsessed with's bathroom, that was funny, but his sneaking around taking photos or going all psycho after getting fired wasn't humorous enough to elicit guffaws. I'm sure a lot of it had to do with the teenage and young families with babies (who don't belong in movie theaters at midnight, and who also don't belong in strollers if they're big enough to squirm and fuss and get out of them to walk in the aisle) who go to popular movies late on Friday nights. It's not serious entertainment, more akin to watching TV with friends or something. And some of it seemed like nervous laughter. But I started to realize the reason I wasn't laughing when everyone else was, was because I was identifying more with Robin Williams' character than the family he was "menacing." I didn't even think he was being that crazy, and was disappointed that they had to resort to the cliche of showing a mammoth shrine of "stolen" photos on a wall to illustrate how fixated and stalkerish a person is. I thought the family could use a little harassment, they were boring. At least creepy is more interesting than dull. And as Robin Williams said at the end, "I only took pictures." Saturday, we went to Woodbury Commons, the huge outlet mall about an hour north of NYC to find this $19.99 Gap coat that James bought the week before we went to Santa Cruz and somehow manage to lose it between there and here. I honestly don't know what the big deal is (though if it were my jacket I'd probably be more livid) this is the second Gap outlet (I think the only two within a reasonable drive) we've tried, and they don't sell them anymore. Then we went to a housewarming for a coworker of James' (duh, I haven't had coworkers in like two years) and I managed to drink way too much, like I forgot what I said to people and ended up at a bar around 3am with a gin and coke(?!) in front of me (I think I wanted a gin and tonic and was ordering James a plain coke and muddled the order) then was barefoot in a cab, which is odd because we always take subways from Williamsburg to Manhattan, and after that it was 1pm and I woke up with my clothes and make up still on. I don't think it's so bad to get drunk drunk once a month. It won't kill you, and it's a big improvement over 2-3 times a week like when I was eek, in my twenties. Yesterday we went to my favorite Thai restaurant, Sripraphai, in Queens, and ordered enough take out for like four people (including fried pork chunks [crispy fried pork with basil, to be precise] done the right way). They have this really great refrigerated case filled with curry pastes and tons of sweets, and I picked up a container of "Thai Marzipan," which is the cutest thing you've ever seen. I wish I had a digital camera (and hadn't already ate half of them). They shape mung bean paste and coconut milk into the shapes of miniature fruit (oh, and a red chile, to make it Thai I suppose) like pears, watermelon slices and apples, coat with gelatin to seal and make shiny, then paint to resemble the fruit. The colors aren't flat, like green for the pear, there's little brown speckles, yellower areas, peachy parts, plus some have tiny, real stems and leaves on top (from what, I have no idea). For $3, you get about 10 pieces, it's a deal. Aha, I just found a recipe for loog choob (I guess that's what it's called), but no photos. Oh my god, I was just searching for "thai miniature fruit" on Google and came up with something equally good: miniature Chinese food like dim sum and peking duck in 1:12 scale. No, not edible--tiny collectibles like old ladies love. Oh wow, look at the tiny supermarket packs. I want these! And they're not cheap, this table of Thai desserts costs $65. Oh no, now I'm going to start collecting miniatures. First turning 30, and now this--it's like having one foot in the grave. Actually, this is the only thing that's cheered me all day. I started taking Wellbutrin last week (for smoking--I went from not smoking at all to dabbling on the weekends and when I'm drinking, which needs to stop--not depression) and instead of feeling better, my mood is totally crappy. But if I had a house filled with miniature Asian food, that would all change. Who could lay in bed like a bum or mope around the apt. with mini noodle soups and tofu cakes surrounding you? I just created a new bookmarks folder: favorites-->hobbies-->crafts-->miniatures.

9/13/02
Oh, it's Friday the 13th, I just noticed this second. Hmm, you've probably heard how everyone's all spooked over the NY lottery numbers being 911 on 9/11. I don't put much stock in that stuff, really. This week has been one of those drawn-out ones where I don't leave my neighborhood. Often there will be something to break up mon-fri like a class, or errand or get together or whatever, but not always. It's good for like the first three days, I get lots done, clean the house, deal with my yard, look for jobs, send resumes, pay bills, buy groceries, send out writing pitches, catch up on email, do laundry, paint my nails...but by Thurs. I start to lose steam. Yesterday I didn't do much other than lay in bed and read "Norwegian Wood" by Haruki Murakami. My sister sent it to me for my birthday saying how it was brilliant and everyone she knew was reading and raving about it, but I haven't been able to get into it for the month and a half I've owned it. But yesterday I made it to page 310. So, by Thursday I start feeling lazy, then when Friday rolls around I've become completely brain damaged. I haven't done anything so far today. Well, I did go to the gym every single freakin' day this week, not that it makes any difference. I don't know why I bother, I'll exercise 2 hours a day/five times a week and I'll just end up gaining weight, I haven't lost an ounce since I started going to the gym two summers ago (and no, I haven't compensated by eating more, thinking I can get away with it because I'm active, as experts would offer). It always weirds me out when celebrities or whoever are asked how they stay in great shape, and they say, "oh, I walk a lot." Like I'm supposed to believe that. When do actresses ever walk. They don't walk in LA (isn't that close to a Missing Persons' song?) Here's a new one I'm waiting to hear, "how do you maintain such a perfect body?" "Every now and then I breathe." Walking and breathing, who knew? My oldest friend, Lema, who still lives at home in Gresham where I grew up, and who's never had a boyfriend, but has been sort of secretly seeing some older recovering alcoholic divorced electrician with two kids who goes to Native American pow wows, for like two years, told me that she recently lost 80 pounds, which I find hard to believe, but whatever. She says she started walking during her lunch break. I don't get it, all these people just stroll around for half an hour and halve in size? I'm a skeptic about 9/11 coincidences and I'm just as skeptical about this facile fitness advice. I might say this every year (I just realized I have four Septembers on my site--it's totally insane that I've kept this crap up for so long), but September is totally the best month of the year. It's something in the air, the light, like you're in between, summer's fading, but it's still warm, though not stifling, at night it's crisp, but not freezing, you can still wear bare legs and sleep with your window open. It's exciting like something really good is around the corner, but also a little nervous stomach inducing. I think this stems from years of starting school at this time. It's sort of scary and unknown, but fun, you get to start fresh with new clothes and school supplies. Maybe the rest of the year will totally suck and you won't make any new friends or get the best grades, in fact you might even develop enemies you never knew you had and get bullied on a consistent basis, but you don't know that yet. All these bright purple morning glories have appeared in my yard. They're almost like glorified weeds, I thought they were weeds because they creep, and have crept all over everything, my fence, the other weeds, over my windows, up two tall trees. The blossoms only open in the morning (they're almost closed now and it's 1:43pm) and I don't always look out my window, so I didn't even know they existed until last week. Now it's a good thing to do when I first wake up, open my curtain and peek out at all the morning glories. I tried not to pull them out when I was weeding the other day, but they've so densely filled my yard it's impossible to not step all over them. I always thought New York would be one of those places with a great fall, maybe I was thinking more about New England, but you know, pretty turning leaves, crisp but not cold, playful. But it's not like that at all. It's hot, then it's freezing. There might me fall weather for about two weeks around the beginning of October and that's it. The main reason I get annoyed is because I have all these sweaters and light jackets that I never get a chance to wear. Right now it's still too hot for them, and then all of a sudden it's 40 degrees and they're useless. That's one thing I'd forgotten about the West Coast, and remembered in Santa Cruz. It can be 80s with no humidity during the day, then go all the way down to the 50s at night. Jackets can be put to good use. Here it's sticky 80s all day and humid 80s all night (sometimes it even gets hotter during the evening--that's creepy). I don't know, it's unnatural. Ick, I'm so antsy, I can't sit at this computer another second. Five days straight in this apartment can't be healthy. I think I'm going to go waste some time doing useless movements on a stairmaster now...maybe I should just walk?

9/11/02
I always try to get up between 9:30 and 10 am, but it never happens. This morning I was awoken around 11 am to what sounded like loud pickaxes outside. I peeked out my window and was flabbergasted by the backyard catty corner to mine. It was complete cleared of weeds. I've always used it as a gauge, like at least my yard isn't the worst on the block (even though their apt. has a little excuse, there isn't a back door like with my place, just windows). What shame. There were three Mexican guys standing around, I'm not sure what the pickaxe sound was, and the sight of them cracked me up. Ages ago, my landlord said he would get "a Mexican" to come deal with my wild backyard, as if it went without saying that Mexicans are the ones to call when you need weeds pulled. I think he forgets my last name. Another time he started saying something about the residents in Sunset Park, then caught himself. I was reading some article about recent police exams and how there were more women and minorities than usual, and they had a quote from a Puerto Rican test-taker about how absurd it was for any Mexicans to be there, "you never see Mexican cops," which is true, in NYC at least, but outside of NYC you're not going to find Puerto Ricans doing anything anywhere. Everyone is so insulated here. I really think people come straight from their islands to New York and assume the rest of the country is just like this. So, anyway, I figured if weeding was good enough for those Mexicans, it was good enough for this one. I spent two hours out there, and I barely put a dent in my own little patch of wilderness. This morning I was also thinking how if the terrorist attacks happened this year instead of last, I would've slept through them. I don't watch TV or listen to the radio in the morning. I wonder how long it would've taken for me to figure out what happened. One of the first things I do in the morning is check my email, and I guess my phone would've been dead, which might tip me off to something (though I'd probably chalk it up to not paying my bill). Urgh, I couldn't watch any of those memorials, vigils, remembrances, whatever, today. It's too much. I'm so not into re-living the grief and trauma. I guess that's easy for someone to say who didn't directly lose anyone. For all the talk you hear on TV, most people don't have someone that died in the attacks. It's not surprising. There was some article in Slate last year about how unless you fraternized with police, firefighters or a few financial company employees, the odds that you would actually know someone in the World Trade Center are much slimmer than people think. The only September 11 media related thing I can deal with is this Salon feature about forbidden thoughts, things that went through people's minds after the attacks that are selfish, shameful, insensitive and very true. It's the sort of thing I've been thinking about forever, that gets people hopping mad. I'm not sure what it's like in the rest of the country, but I have a feeling people aren't as sensitive and reactionary as they are in NYC. It's something they saw on TV, and they've moved on. Everything here is very personal, understandably so. If I were still living in Portland last Sept. 11, I don't think I would have a concept of the sheer horror, the barrage of missing posters that seemed pathetic and useless 24 hours after the fact, the inexplicable sadness of catching someone's eye on the subway, tears welling up, the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, general bad thoughts, hatching plans for the quickest escape route out of the city. I think I would've been quicker to poke fun if I didn't live here. With that said, I don't understand why criticism and cynicism are so unpatriotic, and why it's so great to be patriotic anyway. It was scary, the number of people who started putting flags up, speaking about firefighters with holy reverence (one of the Salon entries, which I've secretly thought myself, but don't vocalize for fear of having my head bashed-in is questioning why firefighters are heros. That was their job. Going into burning buildings and saving people was the career they chose. Were they any braver than the dishwasher on the 101st floor or the $10/hr insurance company temp that didn't make it out either? I guess in crises people need heroes.) and getting all war crazy. For better or worse, I have the feeling by September 11, 2003 much of the fervor will have faded.

9/10/02
Did you know that they make Spam with cheese (it's not even on their website)? I'm always amazed by the array of new, semi-useless products. I've been vaguely obsessed with Odd Job and they're filled with crap no one wanted the first time 'round. The food section is the best, yesterday I found all sorts of freaky popcorn varieties: Pez lemon popcorn, Tabasco popcorn, Rice Krispie popcorn and Butterfinger popcorn, which I bought and thought was OK, but it was pretty much popcorn coated in sweet/salty hard candy that was Butterfinger-esque, there wasn't any chocolate and that would seem to be an important component of a Butterfinger product. I got a kick out of their make up section too (next to novelty food, my next biggest fixation is make up in colors that never sold). They had all these colors I remember from a '98 L'Oreal collection, "Renaissance" that was in all the drug stores when I first moved to NYC. All these dark, gothic lipsticks like Plumage (forest green, that looks purple with silver sparkles when on--I bought it) and Birdsong (a blue-black that I have no idea what it looks like on because they'd packaged the make up so you couldn't test it) that no average woman would ever wear. Four year old make up rules. Speaking of odd jobs, if anyone wants an example of how wildly impossible NYC job hunting is, I'll give you one. Last week I saw an ad for a low level editorial position at that new plus-size magazine, Grace posted around noon. I didn't have time to write a cover letter and all that till that evening. The next morning I checked my email to find a message (shocking that they even responded--98% of jobs never send responses--rejection or otherwise) saying they'd already received enough resumes and wouldn't be accepting any more. Eight hours is too much time to sit on an ad, it's too late, which is crazy. I've already mentioned how that "Food & Wine" job (which went absolutely nowhere despite two interviews) received hundreds of applicants the day the ad ran and the only reason I got an interview at all was because I sent a random resume the week before. The job I really want, at "Entertainment Weekly," isn't totally out of the question yet. The flip side is that when and if you actually get an interview, the process goes on for an eternity, no one ever contacts you again, and unless you're a bit of a pest, you'll never hear from them. I was their first interview, almost a month ago and hadn't heard a thing, which is frustrating. I emailed monday and they said they were still meeting people and wouldn't move the next stage (second interviews) till after Sept. 16. Not that I would necessarily be getting a second interview, just that that's when they would be conducting them. Oh well. It's funny, when I was at JFK, flying out to San Jose, I went to pick up a magazine before my flight, and prominently displayed in a special container was "Watch Times," the unknown German magazine I had an interview with and cancelled. There was Pete Sampras staring out at me with his luxury watch. I'd never seen the thing before, maybe I should've gone to the interview...nah. Anyway, this is weird, yesterday I sent out two queries and got positive responses to both, which never happens. I originally sent out this idea for an Oktoberfest story to the NY Times Friday, knowing they'd be like fuck you because they don't know who I am, but it's good to start at the top and work down. They rejected it within 30 minutes, surprisingly quick, so I didn't feel so good about the concept anymore. I was going to just shelve it, then decided to make it a little sassier, gave it a horribly punny headline (they're the masters of the cheesey headline) and sent it to the "NY Post" yesterday...and they want it! I have to contact the editor today and work out all the details, but it seems like a go. Yesterday I also pitched a story to "Time Out NY." In the past they've been semi-interested in my ideas, but never use them, but this time the editor liked my story and requested clips. Not as good as a go ahead, but promising. I'm hoping to get a positive response today. Meanwhile, I need to get ready to go the dr. I haven't gone since Nov. and my old lady blood pressure medicine ran out yesterday (which is coincidental, I scheduled this appt. when I got put on James's insurance last month. It's good timing though). I wouldn't want to have a stroke or anything.