Poppy Cedes

Dawg is taking me to see WWE Monday night RAW on November 16 cuz HE LOVES ME.

I’m reading Triptych. I loved Karin’s other books, still not sure about this one. It’s perhaps that I’ve fallen out of love with such gruesomeness, or that I just see where this is going and don’t care… not sure yet.

So, in exchange for some advice that I gave I received some words of kindness and good news in return and I seem to be miraculously out of my funk!

I think it would be wise for me to start that paper journal, or at least do the offline writing thing. Those writings would never be published unless I significantly changed the names and had permission from all involved and was 90 years old.

I know he hasn’t communicated about it yet, but Adam is having Avitaween in October and I am SO STOKED to go to Florida. I just hope I get to see everyone I want to see while I’m there.*

What the hell is this movie behind my head? …. Ahh, Delta Force 2. Good ole Chuck Norris and his boom-booms.

Hey, who’s watching Top Chef Las Vegas? Who was annoyed by Ashley being mad about the wedding/battle of the sexes challenge? What the fuck did she expect to have happen in Vegas? At least she made some tasty vagina dish that kept her on the show, what does she care?

Ok, that was perhaps said so crassly to make you laugh, but I might have offended a vagina. Sorry.

Anyway, I got a perfect score (I tried to spell that as “squore” … like square score? I guess…) on week 1’s professional development quiz. I’m going for my ACSP certification, randomly, but it will help my job. It’s something I’ve wanted for years and now is a really good time to get it. I just hope I’m employed through the entire time I’m studying for it… but if not, I paid for the book so I’ll just take it with me and keep on studying. I hold out little hope that work will cough up the money to pay for the certification at this time. We’re really trying to be much more fiscally conservative, is all I’m saying. I suck at conservation. I throw away things all the time, wasteful.

*I am also excited for RenYC but it is a NO-NO to mention another event near the Party of the Year.

I wish I had anything of substance to say here that felt safe to say.

My mind is overwhelmed with things about myself and others that I just can’t write down and publish to the world.

If I were smart I’d get a therapist to listen to me. And then that therapist would go jump out a window to forget what I said.

sigh.

PS – If you troubled me with your cares and your worries, I promise you that I am glad that you did. I hope I helped a little. But, you know, your turn to make that destiny. <3 to you all.

PPS – “I’m sitting on the patio.” (If you get that joke then good for you, you watch too much TV. :)

… day!

At work. hehe :)

(It is also EZA’s birthday! Happy birthday, kiddo! I miss you way more than my arms reach.)

I went to a block party yesterday!

Here are the photos!

(Click the photo to go to the set, yo.)

Who knew just sitting around outside with loud music blaring, drinking a few beers and some homemade chianti, talking with old-to-Dawg friends who feel like they’ve been my friends forever could be that much fun? Yes, I wore sunscreen. SPF 30 Banana Boat spray. Can’t even tell there was sun. And I broke the seal during beer #3 so number of times I peed during the 5-ish hours we were there: 4. What can I say…

Sometimes I feel like writing a book about my life.
Sometimes I feel like being the life of the party.
Sometimes I feel like judging a person based on first impressions.
Sometimes I feel like crawling up into a ball and becoming invisible.
Sometimes I feel like trading in all the good things so that the past is fixed.
(Sometimes I feel like saying what I really mean: I wish he could be here, even if it means me not being here.)
Sometimes I feel like my feelings are invalid.
Sometimes I feel like I am outside looking in.
Sometimes I feel like asking those questions I “shouldn’t”. (And sometimes I do ask.)
Sometimes I feel like putting extra butter on my toast.
Sometimes I feel like helping people who need help.
Sometimes I feel like keeping my mouth shut and letting people create their own destiny.
Sometimes I feel like I am selfish for how I live.
Sometimes I feel like my sister was right about me… a lot more now than I did a year ago, for sure.
Sometimes I feel like being selfless is selfish.
Sometimes I feel like not growing another wizened inch.
Sometimes I feel like making no sense.
Sometimes I feel like I have no one on my side.
Sometimes I feel like too many people are on my side.
Sometimes I feel like I confide misplacedly.
Sometimes I feel like walking in the rain.
Sometimes I feel like it’s all for nothing.
Sometimes I feel like.

You know?

I got my Queens library card today!

Which somehow reminded me about something that happened this past weekend, so I’ll share. I saw on Facebook that someone I used to work with back home was posting mobile photos of him and his wife in New York City so I left him a comment on one of the photos or maybe his status, somewhere on there, that we should meet up!

He Facebook messaged me to ask me what I meant, did I mean a meet-up on Saturday?, so I replied explaining that I work in Manhattan so a Friday meet-up for a beverage in the Hell’s Kitchen area would be cool!

Aaaaaand he didn’t reply for the rest of the weekend, until after he posted a status that he had such a fun time here.

And then FB messaged me that it was a whirlwind weekend and blahblahblah couldn’t meet up for drinks blahblahblah.

And I thought three things:

1. Yah, duh, I kinda figured out you didn’t want to see me when you didn’t answer on Friday.
2. I didn’t say DRINKS, I said a beverage and that it needed to be before the workday ended because I had plans after work (I had dinner I was taking home to Dawg).
3. I do not miss the manner in which people back home let you know you’re not a priority to them.

See, I like my pain up front like Teri Garr in Tootsie. You don’t want to see me then don’t ask me questions and lead me on. And if you realize you can’t or don’t want to see me then just fucking say so. Don’t give me that silent treatment bullshit where you pretend you didn’t get the message until after the time had passed. Be a fucking man, woman, child, unshithead, and just own your reality. It’s not gonna break my heart if you’re up front with me, and now I just think you’re a jackass for playing that game with me.

But, if you’re in NYC again, like, OMG, FB message me.

Can it be true?

Yes, it’s TRUE!!!! Ren from Renagerie will be storming the Big Apple on Saturday, October 10 and wants to have dinner and/or drinks and/or conversation with YOU. Want to come along and see some other fantastic blog friends you know and love while Ren beats his chest and grunts in the corner? (Or, plays with his camera and drinks beer, the more likely scenario.)

Location will be: (somewhere super awesomely rad in Manhattan)
Time will be: (6-ish-PM)
Date will remain: Saturday, October 10
Guest of honor will remain: Ren

Geez, people, catch on!

He’d love to see you there, and quite frankly so would I, so you need to show up if you’re in the general vicinity. Leave me a comment to express your interest.

Here I am a girl who works in a cubicle with her back to both a main pass-through and her direct supervisor’s office.

Here I am today, sitting pretty with a new office that has a LOCKING DOOR and two guest chairs!!!wOOt!!!!!!

No promotion, just another lay-off in the company. The saddest one of all, in fact, but it is what it is. I stopped freaking out about IT staff turnover four turnovers ago. (There have been five since I arrived last November.)

It’s good to have an office, but I will never forget why. Rock on, Red. We miss you, buddy.