Flatulence, Banister, Keepsake, and a quarter life crisis

Dear Natalie 10 years from now,

Quarter life crisis. I guess that's what it's called. Age 27 earning a good living but wondering what else is "out there." You think about the people you know that spent the first 4 years out of high school continuing their education. For a living, they don't utilize anything they did in school. So what's the most general degree you can get just to have that piece of paper saying you're more valuable than the other guy that's only running on experience- not education.

Communications. At least that's the thought as of today. You enjoy communicating. Shit, you may as well learn how to do it properly. With perfect grammar.

Instead of jumping into a 2 year degree program to get into x-rays and sonograms and the like, just to find out that you can't stand it... you can go to CCP for communications and figure out your direction along the way. You were never one for planning ahead so maybe this'll be perfect.

In the meantime.... you've been toying with a book called "The Write Brain." It basically gives you silly writing assignments. Keep your mind stimulated. Keep it movin, sister. Maybe you should sharpen your math skills too. I hear that helps prevent Alzheimer's. Good luck.

With love,
Natalie of 2008

In case you, the reader, were wondering... The first "assignment" was to use the following words in a story:

• Banister
• Flatulence
• Keepsake

So if you'd like to try the assignment, let me know. We can share our stories. I've already written one but it's sexual in nature and my mom occasionally reads this blog.

Me and Jake Gyllenhaal's Great Grandfather Kinda "did it."

"Where have you been?"

"Gosh, I don't know. So much has happened but nothing's changed at all."

I did, in one plane of existence or another, venture back in time to the 1920's. It was there that I encountered the great grandfather of a well known actor, Jake Gyllenhaal (sp?). I've always been a fan of his teeth and find him sexually attractive since his early work of Donny Darko. So it would only be appropriate to run into his great grandfather during a brief stint of time travel.

With my fantastic finger waves and my blue flapper dress, I determined that since I've accomplished time travel, I should use this opportunity to have some sort of physical contact with Jake Gyllenhaal great grandfather. It would be a challenge because he's off eyeing up this beatiful blond female that has glowing eyes.

I spend my the evening trying to catch his attention but come to realize I'm not the hot number I used to be. Which is why I have to trap him in a room. I don't know how we both ended up in the room but I did something to the door to make it stick shut. And then I turned on my charm.

Soon enough we got to making out. I realized that Jake Gyllenhaal's great grandfather is not the worlds greatest kisser. I credit the evolution of kissing as the cause of my disappointment. I think about that man of mine that's asleep next to my body in the world of consciousness. He's a much better kisser than Jake's great grandfather. I ponder if I should feel guilty about this but I figure boyfriend would be ok with the sheer randomness of my time travel.

During the making out, Jake Gyllenhaal's grandfather morphed from looking like Jake to looking like John Travolta with a 5:00 shadow. It was terribly unpleasant and I decided to get the fuck out of there.

Upon my return to the conscious world, I told boyfriend about my experience. He was happy to know that he's a better kisser than Jake Gyllenhaal's great grandfather and glad I made it home safe.

According to Wikipedia...

Leonard Gyllenhaal was a leading Swedenborgian who supported the printing and spreading of Swedenborg's writings. His grandson, the Swedish-American journalist Anders Leonard Gyllenhaal, retained the faith of his grandfather and was a member of the Swedenborgian New Church. His descendants in the American branch of the family include the actor siblings Jake and Maggie Gyllenhaal.

Secret Police Convention

You're going to the Kyber because it has the best happy hour prices in town and you're now a gal on a tight budget. Beer at the Phillies game you're heading to is going to be 7 times the price of what you're about to drink so it only makes sense to stock up here. You'll regret this later in the evening and even more in the morning.

You bring a City Paper as your only defense against possible uncomfortable conversations with some random bar patron(s). Being a friendly female can be a weakness that prevents you from walking away from a conversation about bunyuns. The inability to say "Fuck off!" has trapped you many times. Deep down you love the human interaction but despise your inability to "grow a pair."



Interaction with people around you is unavoidable at Kyber. The regulars are very regular and also mostly friendly. The bartender is attentive and usually there's a weird Japanese game show on TV. If anything, you'll talk about the show but in past experiences you've also be advised on what South Philly bars have oldies bands play weekly, what apartment complexes to look at, how to lose weight, and how to weasel free shit from beer distributors. Conversation is going to happen. It's all a matter of time and content.



The characters at this bar are a diverse crowd made up of hipster twenty somethings, juke box enthusiasts, and thrifty folks of any age looking to not be raped on the price of a domestic beer. Today you've sat in between two men that appear to be regulars. You know this because bartender knows and uses their first names.

Bob, as it would turn out, is a homeless street performer. He wears circle glasses, Indian jewelry, a hat with a bandanna, and a snazzy country jacket. Bob's comparing 2 $5 bills and testing their durability by pulling the sides causing the paper to make a snapping thud noise. He asks you, "Did you know about the secret police convention going on this week?"

You look up from the "I love you, I hate you" section from the City paper and shake your head, "Can't say that I have."

And with a smile he says, "That's because it's a secret."

Special Forces

You walk into a bar and a boy stops you immediately and says, "How are you?" You answer his question and ask how he is doing to be polite. His answer is, "I love you!" You can't help but smile and safely assume he has said this to many MANY girls in this particular evening. You realize you're right after he approaches you at your table.

"I just want to tell you your beautiful. I just got back from Afghanastan 2 weeks ago. I have two bullet wounds, do you want to see?"

The difference between you and the other girls is yes, you do in fact, want to see and even touch his bullet wounds. Because this is something you've never done before. You can cross it off of your list now.

He asks you if you if your boyfriend is here. When you shake your head, his eyes light up, "Do you HAVE a boyfriend?" And you try to tell him your boyfriend is "deployed" in a strange place called Florida. But he's too wasted to stop kissing your hand to listen to what you're saying.

Your friend at the table explains that he did the same thing to her on her way in. The only difference between you and your friend is that her boyfriend was there. And for a strange reason you feel bad that this soldier boy is having such tough luck with the ladies. You consider buying him a drink and later appreciate the decision NOT to.

Before the rest of the night moves on, this soldier boy comes over and kisses your friend that beat you to the bar on the cheek. Jokingly you say, "You cheating on me?" And instead of kissing you on the cheek, he kisses you on the entire bottom portion of your face. You've never held your mouth closed so tight before.

You threaten his testicles but he returns several times to kiss your hand, forehead, cheek, etc. You're amongst people you know and you figure he knows someone you know so you don't want to punch him in the face. Not yet. But he's pushing that envelope.

Outside, while listening to a story about something that was very entertaining but you can't quite remember at this moment, soldier boy walks through the door and smiles with his chipped teeth and almost crossed drunk eyes. You hold up your hand indicating, "I'll deal with you in a moment but please stay the fuck away from me."

Once the story is finished, you turn to this soldier and advise him to keep his face far from any parts of your body. "I'd stay here for 20 more minutes just to look at you," he says. This poor guy. Just home from a place that his country forgets we're in. Holes in his body, chips in his teeth, and all he wants to do is get laid. He's in the wrong place for that because the females inside have no interest in war stories or getting shot. His approach is a FAIL and you decide to tell him this. You give him advice saying, "You can USE that! Girls will be all over that!!" about something he said that would've been intriguing to some single gal.

While all this is happening you're thinking about how you'll have to tell boyfriend that some guy rapekissed your face and you continued to be nice to him. You're feeling embarassed not so much because that took place but because you didn't act like a wretched bitch and cuss him out in front of everyone. How could you? He's wasted and obviously in a unique mental state. Outside you threatened that his testicles will be yours if he came near your face again. But no one heard that threat so it wasn't as gratifying.

Any sensation of guilt will be widdled away when you remember boyfriend sent you a text indicating he was at a strip club for longer than he should've been. When you pick him up, you start to tell him the story about your night and remember this text. You remind him that he was managing an errection brought on by naked women that AREN'T you and this is what brings balance.

You're so glad that he's home and you're even more thrilled that he didn't go to Afghanastan.

May 8, 2008 was a good day.

Angry conversations did me in. Conversations about city violence, a bum stealing the wallet of a man having a seisure, and annoying encounters with people in general made it quite simple to bask in misery for 8 hours of my life today.

It didn't help that the sun stayed home.

You have to embrace your misery so you can easily move on. and if you do it right, surely you'll find humor in it. But after spending the most part of your day being almost completely miserable, you can only hope that the Universe will do its thang to cheer you up.

I call them "my people." They're my cheer up troop. My bringers of joy. My smile enthusiasts. They're plopped in my path with the sole purpose of putting a smile on my face.

that's how important I am.

It usually doesn't take much to turn a shitty day into a happy ending- and it's pretty easy to ruin a perfectly good day. But for the most part, I'm easily cheered up. For example, watching a homeless man give another homeless man a hair cut in Love Park humbled my irritability. Or dogs sniffing each other's butts. That can always cheer me up. the irony of birds fighting over a chicken wing on the street is a hoot too.

But today, "my people" were out in full force today. I would've settled with the trash can drum man- he's enough to turn my day around. but the little screaming asian kids running the way only little screaming asian kids can run and still look cute? i thought that was the icing on the cake.

but it didn't stop there.

imagine walking down the street and seeing what seems to be a random act of silliness. people in robes with purple kite things smiling and waving at anyone that makes eye contact. You can't help but smile. And everyone does- EVERYONE.

my favorite homeless guy- the guy that never asks for money and smiles with his eyes- he smiled with his face at the sight of the kite people. He also has a relatively new pair of New Balances which gave me great joy to see.

It turns out these kite people weren't random. They were promoting Circ de Sollie (however you spell it). i wish i didn't know this, but seeing the faces of people passing by- the smiles and the camera phone pictures being taken- was enough to make that thing called my heart burst.

like i said, it's easy. easy to make me feel like the world is okay. easy to make my face leak water from my seeing holes. and if it's at all possible, I encourage you to make it easy for you too. there's not a lot of time on this earth so it's good to soak in all you can. you'll thank me, i promise.

with love,
sappy nerdalie.

And here I thought it was a mental disturbance.

quite some time has passed since my griping about the birds. and you should know that we let them stay for a little bit because we heard baby birds take about 2 weeks to learn how to fly and leave the nest. we waited two weeks. but one of them was a little slow and didn't survive the eviction. he made a gallant effort in landing gracefully but could not withstand the blunt force trauma that is inflicted by a 3 story soar to the ground.

i'm sitting here, not in the mood for punctuation or proper spacing. hell, i may not even utilize spell check. but i'm sitting here procrastinating going to bed for some reason. i've been getting a little anxious when it comes time to sleep due to the sudden solitary bedtime.

boyfriend is serving his country in Tampa, FL for two entire weeks. this will be the most time spent apart in over 2 years.

i think.

yes. it is. last time he went on a road trip with his brother and i flew to florida to meet them. i spent one day in sarasota while they were at a wedding. and then rode shotgun in the car for 2 days back to philly. the trip is high up on my list of "random destinations" mostly because i spent more time in a car than at my destination.

but this time i'm not flying to florida. because boyfriend is sleeping on a pull out in a hotel room with one of his comrades. or whatever they call each other. either way, i'm having a strange time missing him. it's exciting. the fact that i miss him is probably a good sign. i couldn't concentrate at work today because i was trying to plan out what i'll wear to pick him up on friday. i was planning my week around cleaning up. maybe even put my laundry away!

i watched a sad as shit episode of house tonight. it's one of those, "appreciate what you've got because you don't know how long you've got it" themed episodes that make you want to hug a pillow/person/animal/freshly showered homeless man/etc.

and all i have is a thermal shirt that he left on the floor. it's ripe with armpit funk and i rub my nose in it every night.

apparently, this is that thing called "love." and here I thought it was a mental disturbance. all of this ga-ga-ness still here after 2 and a half years. it's quite shocking for a girl who's relationships tend to fizzle around month 9 (plus an additional 5 months trying to break up without hurting anyone's feelings).

it's been 7 days and 15 hours since i smelled this jerk's fart as we said goodbye in the car (flying makes him nervous?). THAT'S IT. one week and i'm retarded. and to think, he was going to go to afganastan for a 30 day deployment. imagine that. 30 days with no text messaging correspondence. no nightly phone call. and instead of tampa, he's in a desert half way around the world. a desert where people die.

this is 2 weeks is good practice.

love is so weird.

bird alarm.

Waking up to the chirping of birds- well there are worse things I could think of waking up to. For a few days it was like having nature as an alarm clock- SO much better than a jarring "wrah wrah" of the conventional alarm. Until we discovered that they are building something (a nest probably, or maybe a free clinic or hospital or something productive for the bird community) under our air conditioner.

Big deal right? "So they're building a f*cking nest under your AC unit, boo hoo."

Yeah well bite me. Amanda had a bird's nest resting on TOP of her AC unit at her new apartment. When I stayed there, I took a picture of the momma bird resting on her chicks. "They're feathers look like sticks!" I said as I snapped the photo with my camera phone. We joked about it being the nature channel and that was that.

Apparently birds leave their nests when everyone's grown and ready to do their thing(s). During their stay, birds attract "bird mites" which feed off of the blood of the birds. When the birds leave, the mites need to find new sources of blood. And this is why the million of them decided to hunt in Amanda's apartment. Long story short, it was a bitch and a half to get them to go away and Amanda had to not stay at home for a few days AND she had to wash EVERYTHING.

So yeah, we're a little paranoid about the nest. But they don't seem to be procreating- which is good. Maybe it's a social club. Either way, we bang on the wall to scare them away and occassionally stick a long ruler under the AC unit to pull their club out and let it float haphazardly to the ground.