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| Thursday, September 28, 2006 |
| I Officially Reject the Month of September |
From here on out, I will no longer acknowledge the existence of the month of September. Let's take a quick recap of my month thus far:
* Moved into an apartment over-run by cockroaches.
* Got dumped.
and now we can add a third to the list:
* Had purse stolen.
That's right. Last night, while riding the train home, I fell asleep. And when I awoke, it was gone. Three hours later, three hours of crying, and police reports, and waking up a super who had never met me at 3 in the morning to get his set of keys, I was in my apartment. Without my cell phone. Without my wallet. Without my camera, my Kate Spade purse, without my checkbook.
This morning has consisted of trips to the bank, to verizon wireless, calls to my management company, my credit cards, my parents. It will continue with calls to the DMV, and a visit from the locksmith so he can change my locks.
Of course all of these calls are being made from the office since I have no phone.
And it's all my fault. All of it. Everything that's happened this month falls directly on my shoulders. I should have asked MM more questions about the bugs. I shouldn't have ever let The Twin back into my life. I shouldn't be traveling on the subway while tipsy and tired.
I've hit rock bottom at this point. Here's to hoping there's nowhere to go from here but up - but I'm not going to count on it.Labels: apartment, dating, NYC |
posted by FINY @ Thursday, September 28, 2006   |
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| Tuesday, September 26, 2006 |
| Brain Dump |
Ok, it's been a crazy three days, and my head is spinning with stuff I want to mention, so a quick brain dump for you while I get an actual post together:
* The weekend in DC was absolutely awesome. There will be an entire post devoted to it once I get all of my notes together (because yes, I am a dork, and I took notes. How else was I supposed to remember all the stories Papa told me?) Matty, you were right, I didn't get your comment until I returned home. It would have been so great to meet you in person. Next time I am down there I promise I'll be in touch. And the same should go for you if you're ever in the NYC area.
* I know I haven't mentioned the Red Sox recently, but I have still been paying attention. But honestly, it hurts too much to talk about. Congrats to Papi though. At least there's something good that came out of the season.
* The Notre Dame game on Saturday ... yeah, we had absolutely no right winning that game. It was clear from the beginning that the media had overhyped the Fighting Irish, but holy lord, they have looked absolutely horrendous. It was quite the comeback and a very exciting game to watch, but damn, that was ugly.
* I made the mistake of forgetting to set my fantasy football line up before leaving for the weekend and got DESTROYED this week. I'm playing in a league with four of my guy friends from RI and one guy that one of them knows, so clearly I am trying to make sure I at least make a good showing as I'm the only girl in the league and this group tends towards the never-letting-you-live-something-down, so thankfully I am still in second with a 2-1-0 record, but still, I hope this isn't the beginning of a downward spiral.
* Is anyone else completely hooked on Studio 60? Watched the second episode last night, and yup, I'm in. I knew I'd love it since it's Sorkin, and I adored the West Wing, but I was afraid I had it built up too big in my head. Not the case. I love it.
* My job duties yesterday? Sit on a gold course for hours watching to see if anyone hit a hole in one, and then get dressed up to take people's money during a live auction all the while getting all the free food and drink that I wanted. Sometimes the non-profit world is awesome.
* This is going to get it's own post too, but it should be noted that in the week since my parents and I (ok more my parents than me) caulked and steel-wooled every nook and cranny of my kitchen a week ago I've seen only five or six roaches and they've all been tiny and on the verge of death. I am clearly keeping up the fight with sprays, keeping everything spotless, etc. But it feels like I am finally winning. And the major up-side of that? I am almost completely set up in the apartment. And loving every second of living on my own.
* This week is going to be crazy too, but damn if I'm not having a blast. Two weeks after The Twin walked out of my life, I feel better than I have in a LONG time. No more worrying about working him into my schedule. No more fears that I'm somehow annoying him. No more feeling like I constantly had to live up to some unknown standard. As selfish as it sounds I get to focus completely on me, and it's fantastic. Sure certain things still remind me of him - like the American flags I saw everywhere this weekend. Or the beads he bought me from Mardi Gras that I threw out last night as I unpacked my last box. But it doesn't hurt anymore. Now it's more of a "eh" feeling. Sure it's going to suck if I ever see him in the street with another girl, but only for a minute or two. Ok, maybe ten - days. But I'm getting there, I really and truly am.Labels: family, Fighting Irish, misc., Red Sox, sports |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, September 26, 2006 |
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| Friday, September 22, 2006 |
| Living History |
For most of our generation war is an abstract concept. Sure, we're waging one in Iraq, but the scale of troop deployment, the lack of a draft, and the advent of television news coverage has desensitized most of us to the realities of large scale combat.
For my grandfather's generation, nothing could be further from the truth. Almost all of the men in my family who are of my grandfather's age served in World War II. They fought on the ground and in the air, they saw things many of us have read about in history books. And yet ... they barely speak of what they did.
Or at least, my Papa doesn't. Papa was a tailgunner - a fact I only learned somewhere in the last ten years or so. I've never really gotten stories about the war, about why he enlisted, how long he served, what his rank was. When I was working at the Beacon Press as a summer intern I got the chance to work on a book called The People and the President. As I read through the letters of thousands of Americans to FDR after each of his fireside chats, I would talk to my grandparents about what it was like to have heard them. What the country was like at that time. And yet, I still have very little idea about what Papa's life was like then. They spoke in general terms of people gathering around the radio, neighborhoods coming together to listen to FDR speak. They spoke of feeling like he was a part of the family, of never having that kind of connection to our nation's leader either before or since.
But this weekend, I hope to learn more. As an 80th birthday present to my Papa, his three children, my mother included, each chipped in to pay for my grandparents to travel from Florida to Washington, DC to visit the WWII memorial. I'll join my mother, my aunts, uncles, and cousins for the trip. I'm ridiculously sick (yes, Michael, you warned me) but wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world. To see my Papa visit a memorial dedicated to him and the men he served with just isn't the sort of opportunity that arises every day.
I hope you all have a great weekend.Labels: family |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, September 22, 2006 |
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| Wednesday, September 20, 2006 |
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It's time, yet again, for another great fundraiser from the Alzhiemer's Association NYC Junior Committee. A week from today, Wednesday September 27th, we will be holding an event at the Boat Basin. Tickets are $25 and can be purchased at the door. If you're in the NYC area and are interested in joining us, click on the invite below for all the details.
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| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, September 20, 2006 |
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| Monday, September 18, 2006 |
| It's Not Much, But It's Mine |
 Say hello to Tessie, everyone. It's been a while since the kitty has made an appearance here at Miles From Fenway, but tonight as I sat curled up in my hideously ugly, but oh so comfortable, and incredibly cheap armchair, reading a book with my cat curled up next to me, I just had to share how ridiculously happy it made me. I live on my own. Everything in this place is mine. The bathroom is mine. I can walk around naked after a shower and - it doesn't matter! All the shit that's gone down in the past few weeks aside, I've got a damn freaking good life.Labels: apartment, NYC, tessie |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, September 18, 2006 |
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| Takeaways |
The late Israel Kamakawiwoole's version of "Over the Rainbow" is the kind of song that lends itself well to television commercials, movie background music, and any number of other commercial uses. It also lends itself well to getting stuck in my head. Last night, after hearing it during, I think, a cereal commercial, I went to download it from iTunes, and paused only briefly while remembering sitting in The Twin's wheelchair/desk chair, singing along to that very song after hearing it at the movie theater.
After listening to the song a couple times through, I went to my CD collection in search of something that would knock the beautiful and addicting song out of my head. As I searched through CDs both old and new, I realized that inside the large black binder in which I store my music, there was basically a timeline of every past relationship I've ever had.
For those of you who've seen The Runaway Bride you'll remember that one of the things Julia Robert's character took for each of her fiances was she began eating her eggs in the style with which he favored - scrambled, egg whites only, benedict (my fave by the way), etc. For me, apparently, it's music.
Apparently, I pick up a group or two from each ex. From The Twin it was Kamakawiwoole and Iron Horse, a bluegrass band who's tribute to Metallica Fade to Bluegrass completely changed my mind about bluegass in general. From The Ex I became a big moe. and Dropkick Murphys fan. A high school boyfriend rekindled the love of classic rock my father had tried to instill in me since birth. The list goes on, but I think you get my drift.
They say you learn something from every relationship you're in. Apparently, my lessons broaden my musical horizons.Labels: dating, music |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, September 18, 2006 |
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| Friday, September 15, 2006 |
| A Moment of Weakness |
I'm a crier. I am, I've never been bashful about it, in fact, I embrace it. It's a good release. I cry when I'm happy. I cry when I'm overtired. I cry when I'm sad. I cry when I'm angry or frustrated. Pick an emotion, it usually involves tears.
I hadn't cried since Wednesday. And even then it was a brief, fleeting moment that I quickly squashed. I'd been holding myself together with my anger towards him.
I broke down today. After getting up so early in the morning, after so little sleep, after a week that has consisted of working until all hours, killing bugs, and trying to stay strong, I finally just had to let go for a while.
I cried because I missed him. Because I am still mad at myself for letting myself fall for him all over again. I cried because this has been the week from hell, and of everyone I wanted to call, of everyone I wanted a hug from it was him.
Luckily, my parents are coming down this weekend. And this morning, I was reminded why I am so excited for the Walk on Sunday. Seeing one of our constituents faces as Harry Smith wrapped his arm around him and ushered him onto the set was enough to remind me of why I work as hard as I do. And Sunday is going to be filled with moments like that.
It was just a moment of weakness. Or at least that's what I have to keep telling myself.Labels: dating |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, September 15, 2006 |
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| I'm Famous! |
Ok, not really, but according to my mother, I did get quite a bit of face time on the CBS Early Show this morning. I have to tell you, getting up at 4:15 this morning was no east feat, but we got the Buddy Walk mentioned on national television, so I guess it was worth it.
I'm going to go take a nap now ... oh wait, I'm at the office, nevermind.Labels: misc. |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, September 15, 2006 |
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| Thursday, September 14, 2006 |
| Who Wants To Watch Finy Make An Ass Out Of Herself? |
| Ok, so one of the good things about this week is that I've been RIDICULOUSLY busy and by the time I've gotten home each night I've been too tired to do anything but pass out (so no thinking-too-much-staying-awake-all-night moments for me!). One of the reasons I have been so busy is because my organization is getting ready for it's big Walk on Sunday. Well, somehow I let myself get roped into going to the taping of Good Morning America at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow to try to get ourselves on television. So if you watch GMA, and see a bunch of people wearing blue and white t-shirts and Buddy Walk hats, holding pennants and signs ... yeah I'm one of them. Try not to laugh to hard. Labels: misc. |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, September 14, 2006 |
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| A Post That Will Most Likely Be Deleted Later |
I wasn't going to post this. I even sent it to two of my friends so that I could feel like I was sort of puttting it out there in the world, but not actually somewhere where he could see it (since I know he still checks in here). But I am just so fucking angry. And I need that to go away. It's not like me. So here it is, my last post about the breakup, that will probably be deleted later.
...
Yup, I knew I wouldn't be able to stomach having that up there for long.Labels: dating |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, September 14, 2006 |
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| Wednesday, September 13, 2006 |
| Life as Literature |
If I read life half as well as I read novels, I would have seen the signs. And not the big ones, not the "he didn't show up when he said he would"s, not the "her friends came over to help her clean up the dead bugs in her apartment and he didn't even offer"s. The subtle ones. The ones that my literature professors used to be so proud of me for finding in the densest of narratives.
I'm a book nerd to end all book nerds. This can best be summed up in the book that I'm reading right now; How to Read Literature Like A Professor That's right, I'm reading literary criticism - for fun. Says so right there on the back of the book.
So as I am reading on the subway this morning, I realize that if my life HAD been a novel, I would have seen the ominous signs. The cockroaches being the most obvious. When you see one, more are coming. They're inescapable. Much like what is to follow. They were my foreshadowing.
If I had paid attention I would have realized that I had let The Twin become a John Willoughby to my Marianne, when wouldn't we all rather be Elinor?
If I had been reading my life, instead of living it, I wouldn't have been surprised by the outcome. And really, I am just dreaming when I compare it to the greats like Sense and Sensibility. At present my life is like a bad chick lit novel. Mid-twenties, single, living in New York in a small apartment that has bugs. With my cat. Working in a publishing related field. Recently spurned by a less than worthy lover.
But then again - no story is original, and wasn't Austen one of the original romance novelists?
So if we follow that logic, better things are to come. And soon, if I'm not mistaken.Labels: dating |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, September 13, 2006 |
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| Tuesday, September 12, 2006 |
| How Do You Delete A Memory |
When all the phone messages are erased. When all the emails have been trashed. Once you've deleted all the texts, thrown away the mementos, gotten rid of the physical reminders, how do you get rid of the memories.
Those memories that keep creeping in throughout the day. The train ride to Rhode Island. The night in the batting cages. The flowers that were bought. The day he showed up at the office. The night we got back together. The way he smiled. The feel of his hugs. Why isn't there a switch to turn that stuff off? Because I don't want them right now. Eventually I will, but right now, this minute, I can't handle them.
I hate the fact that I let him do this to me again. I feel weak because of it. And I want to say that I am just going to build up a wall so I won't get hurt again. But I know myself better than that. I let people in until they prove I shouldn't and by then it's too late. But then again, if I did shut people out would it make me any different than him?
I hate the fact that he's out there, living his life. I find myself imagining that this isn't affecting him at all. He texted me last night by accident. Something that was supposed to go to one of his friends. He left me on the street last night and went down to Ground Zero to take some photographs. He just moved on, right away.
I hate that I can't pretend that I'm ok – he knows I'm not. He knows I can act that way because I told him I could when we got back together. After the first time, he thought I was alright, that I had moved on. I deserved a fucking Oscar for that performance. I deserve to be booed for this one.
But I am done. Completely done with him. There will be no phone calls, no emails. In a way I have moved on. I've moved on from thinking that he was even a friend to me. Sure he was the person I went to when things got tough, was the first phone call when something good happened, was the one I turned to for so many things. But I wasn't that for him. He wouldn't let me be. And you can't be friends when you're the only one putting anything into it. Nevermind in a relationship.Labels: dating |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, September 12, 2006 |
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| When Only Whitesnake Will Do |
"And I've made up my mind
I ain't wastin' no more time"
Ok, I am going to ignore two things ... I wasn't the one who made the decision, and also, the second line is a double negative. What are you going to do?
The conversation lasted only a few minutes. Long enough for him to tell me he loved me (the only time he ever said it) but not that way. Long enough for me to tell him that I was angry at whatever girl fucked him up so bad that he wouldn't let me in. Long enough for me to tell him I was mad at him for getting back together just to fuck me up all over again.
There were tears, friends, ice cream, beer, and cigarettes involved in last night. But I woke up this morning with a weird sense of calm. Well, calm and complete exhaustion, but whatever.
See, I came to a lot of realizations last night. I loved The Twin. I knew it, he knew it, everyone knew it. And I thought that was enough. I thought if we stuck it out, somewhere along the line, he'd realized he loved me too. So I ignored the fact that I would wait for hours at Starbucks waiting for him to get off work. I shrugged it off when he'd kind of shut down on me. I was always the one waiting for him. I was always worried, I was always afraid. Somewhere along the lines, I lost my self-respect.
Never again. I deserve better. He even said that last night, which sort of made me want to punch him. No relationship that makes you that uneasy is worth it. Will I miss him? For sure. I'll miss the little things like how my head fit so perfectly into the crook of his neck and shoulder. I won't miss how he never told me I was beautiful. How I always felt like I just wasn't quite living up to his expectations.
But life's lessons learned, huh? There were some good things I took away from this. I started writing again, and started to seriously push myself towards graduate school. I'll be starting an online writing class through the University of Houston shortly, just to get myself back into the swing of things, and I doubt I ever would have done that had it not been for him. So this past year wasn't a total loss. I learned what I needed, what I wanted, what I deserved.
I've got a lot of friends right now that absolutely want to kick his ass. I've told them all the same thing: it's not worth it. He's so emotionally unavailable that the shit he's doing to himself is way worse than anything we could ever do to him.
So that's that folks, on to the next chapter in the book. New apartment, new outlook, new start. It's gonna be a good day.Labels: dating |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, September 12, 2006 |
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| Monday, September 11, 2006 |
| Fucking Emotional Reactions |
When I get upset, I throw up. Every time. Any time I've ever been broken up with, someone has passed away, when I got rejected from graduate schools. Every single time. As soon as the emotion hits, to the bathroom I go.
Today I haven't had anything specific to get emotional about. Yes, I'm upset about something that went down with MM last night. True, I am worried that something is really wrong with The Twin, though I have very little rational evidence to go on other than his relative silence for the last few days. And of course this is one of those ridiculously busy times at work.
Combine all of them together, and what do you get? A rather weakened Finy who just returned from the deli because she needed to buy a Canada Dry after throwing up her lunch. I hate my stomach. Why can't it behave like a normal stomach and just do what it's supposed to? Mainly, keep the food inside it once it gets there?!Labels: dating |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, September 11, 2006 |
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 We all have our memories of September 11th. Where we were, what we were doing, how we reacted. Some of us lost loved ones, friends, family members. There's very little I could write or say today. I won't be attending any of the memorials that are taking place literally all over the city. Part of me would feel like a fraud. So many people in this city lost someone that day, were here, they saw it. They smelled the smoke and watched the explosions, and ran from the debris. I was sitting in Boston, MA, watching it all on television, safe in the knowledge that everyone I knew was nowhere near the Towers.
But I'll be thinking about it all day. There's no way to escape that. But instead of mourning, I'll choose to remember how a country rallied around two cities and a small town in PA. How in those first few weeks political affiliations went out the window. How people banded together to help each other out. And I'll wonder where in the last five years we lost that.
photo from the University of Virigina page here: http://www.virginia.edu/911/ Labels: misc. |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, September 11, 2006 |
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| Thursday, September 07, 2006 |
| God DAMN It! |
Every time. Every FUCKING time I get comfortable. Every time I think this might be ok, that hey, they've all been small, there haven't been that many, maybe they're going away. As I'm climbing into bed just now there's a fucking cockroach. On my nightstand. Next to my cup of water.
There's no fucking food in here that's not in cans. I've cleaned everywhere. Why WHY ARE THEY TORTURING ME?! And how the FUCK am I supposed to sleep with this morning still fresh in my mind and the one I just killed only recently flushed down the toilet?
Sorry guys, you may have to hear about this here and there. I have my good moments with it. I have my bad.
I'm still kind of waiting for the good. The hey-I-haven't-thought-about-cockroaches-in-like-twenty-minutes. Cause so far, every moment in this apartment, they're all I am fucking thinking about.Labels: apartment, NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, September 07, 2006 |
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| My Mom Is The Cutest |
Seriously, she really is. The nonprofit organization that I work for is holding its annual Walk in a few weeks. My parents, being the ever supportive people that they are, are coming to visit for the weekend in order to attend the event. Since I'll be working I called my mother this afternoon with a proposition - volunteering. When given a list of potential duties we came upon one that got her all excited: passing out pennants to Walkers.
I can see it already. I know exactly what's going to happen. There will be thousands of very small, very cute children at this event. She will spend all day, with my father lagging behind her wondering how he got roped into this seeing as he's mildly anti-social, going up to every kid there and expressing how "cunnin'" they are.
I can't wait to see it, I really can't. She's going to have a blast with it. It's already bringing a smile to my face.Labels: family |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, September 07, 2006 |
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| Psychological Warfare |
I've won the battle, but am still losing the war. At this point I've used everything in my arsenal: Raid, bug bombs, Combat gel, roach traps, egg stoppers, even a professional exterminator hired by my management company. Last night I killed three or four small roaches - but I assumed they were running from the poison I had left for them. I thought if I stayed on top of it, if I killed the little ones now, they wouldn't grow to the big ones I haven't seen in the last few days.
But they've now reverted to psychological warfare. While making my bed this morning I found a small male on one of my pillows. I've been having a hard time sleeping for exactly that reason - fear that one would crawl on me in the night.
Now I may never sleep again.Labels: apartment, NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, September 07, 2006 |
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| Tuesday, September 05, 2006 |
| At War |
or, How I Went From Living With Two Roommates To Living with Two Hundred
Initial incursions in what will now be referred to as the Reclamation Of All Common Habitats (ROACH) War began around 4pm on move-in day. The first invader was found in the living area, having crossed the known border of the kitchen. A group of soldiers including Meegan, Kristi, Verity, and myself, were dispatched to take care of the problem. With the invader pinned to the wall with a thick film of Raid, we ventured into the kitchen.
And thus the war began. Hours later, hundreds of cockroaches were dead. Our side sustained minor injuries including lightheadedness due to excessive amounts of pesticide and a distinct lack of beer. I went to bed that night convinced I was winning.
I was wrong. By morning, my trusty #1 Tessie was playing with them in the kitchen. Going through my laundry for clothes, a spy jumped out and scurried under-cover once again. It was clear drastic measures would need to be taken.
I spent Sunday building up my defenses. Over a hundred extra large garbage bags and ten 9'x12' drop cloths later, every single thing I owned was wrapped in plastic. It was time to go on the offensive. Raid was bought, both in can form, and in bomb form. I was ready.
Turning off all breakers in the apartment, and quickly depressing the detonators on both bombs, I retreated, cat in bag. Withdrawing to The Twin's apartment for the night, we rested peacefully, with the knowledge that there was no escape.
It is apparent, however, that the majority of blunders in war, occur after having underestimated your enemy. These fuckers have 300 million years of evolution on their side. I've got some spray. What I hadn't expected was the city of New York being on their side. It took a cab, a train, and a five minute walk to get to my apartment yesterday. With all of my supplies on my back and in a rolling suitcase, it was no easy task. The parade taking place on my street, though colorful and cheery, did little to raise my spirits. Especially when a fellow soldier from the NYPD refused to let me past the barricade to get to my building. But that is another story.
Upon entering the battlefield, the carnage was apparent. Hundreds of enemy soldiers lay dead or dying. Three seemed to somehow escape long enough to crawl up the walls, though the effect of the poison was apparent, as they drunkenly tried to evade me. The cleanup process began.
But with little sleep, and such drastic emotional trauma, this soldier could not finish the job. After wiping down the bathroom from top to bottom with Pine Sol in order for Pfc. Tessie to be safe, I began on the kitchen.
No one respects a soldier with a weak stomach, so I will refrain from describing the crying fits, the frantic calls to friends and family, the second thoughts about being able to win such a war. They were everywhere. And I was only one. I was out numbered, out maneuvered, and eventually I retreated once again with Tessie to The Twin's home base, where Tessie is now residing in the bedroom. Tonight, armed with reinforcements and more supplies, I will return. Ready to win the battle and reclaim my headquarters. Wish me luck.Labels: apartment, NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, September 05, 2006 |
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