tavie.com

Erica, I find it very interesting that nowhere in this post do you mention that you were dressed as Princess Leia at the time.

Hee hee.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:50 PM | shower me with attention

Friday, August 31, 2001

I made a guy blush.

I'm a woman o' the world now.

By the way, I meant to tell you that I hate the title "The Fat Files", and beg you to get rid of it. ("_The Way Things Ought to Be_! I hate him! That's what I was going to call my book!")

This is the most fun I've read in a month of Sundays.

I blog too much.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:22 PM | shower me with attention

Jiggety jog, back where I belong until Tuesday. Got off real early today, and STILL our computers aren't ready so we did more computer graveyard inventory. Man, that's not what I was hired for. But I ain't complainin', no siree.

Miscellaneous:
1. Homina.
2. I'm really sleepy (as per my insomnia of the past few nights) but I have to wait for Gina's company computer guy to come over and replace her disk drive. But I ain't complainin', no siree.
3. I don't know if it was the exhaustion or what, but I found myself utterly transfixed by the breasts of a woman sitting across from me on the PATH train over here. They were the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen. I couldn't stop ogling them. Not staring; ogling. I don't think she noticed. I kept having these sexist "Man Show" thoughts (wowee zowee those are some sweet sweet bazooms, etc) and being surprised at myself. I'm just not usually distracted by breasts. I have my own. They're not so special. Yet there I was, totally objectifying that woman. I just sat there for 22 minutes wanting to dive into her breasts. I need a nap so badly.
4. I love my Feminism class. I love the teacher, I love the discussions, I love everything except the rather dry and repetitive reading we've had so far.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:09 PM | shower me with attention

Once again I can't sleep. This is bad. I should be able to sleep. I only got a few hours last night and I stayed up all day and got home at 9:30 pm. But I fell asleep at 11 and woke at 1 and now I can't get back to sleep. Nothing is working and it's too late to take a pill.

Yesterday. It went well. They didn't have my security pass ready but a phone call got me a temporary one for the day. I went up and met my supervisor, Theresa, and fellow temp, a taciturn fellow named Jason. Our computers had arrived but were not set up for us yet, so we spent the morning taking inventory of old computer equipment in a cold computer graveyard. It was like catacombs; rows and rows of cold metal cabinets full of servers and hubs and switches and routers and tranceivers. Jason identified the equipment and I took it down. This went on for several hours. It was boring but steady. When we returned, Theresa told us to go to lunch and come back and report to her. We went to lunch. I found a deli that showed reruns of Seinfeld as I enjoyed my corned beef. (It was the episode where George naps under his desk.)

We returned, and Theresa wasn't there. I sat in my cubicle trying to read some homework, but at this time of afternoon when the temptation to sleep was strongest, I found I couldn't concentrate on Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication on the Rights of Women. The nice girl in the cubicle next to me lent me her issue of Glamour, and that kept me sufficiently entertained.

For two hours.

Where was Theresa? Had she skipped town? Poor Jason wore out his sports section and took to staring blankly at nothing in the cubicle next to mine. It wasn't bad work for the pay, but I'm glad we'll start the real stuff tomorrow.

Finally, a friendly and apologetic woman by name of Alex came over and dismissed us for the day. As I left the building, I saw Theresa coming in from her extremely long lunch. Heh, heh.

Tomorrow I work until 2, but get paid for the whole day. Suh-weet. This is good because I'll probably start to feel the effects of this insomnia most strongly at around 2.

I'll probably end up asleep on a bench outside Trinity Church. I just know it.

Why can't I sleep? Why is Star Trek: TNG showing the same exact episodes they showed a few weeks ago? HELLO? I just SAW this one. Rat bastids.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:40 AM | shower me with attention

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{oh serra}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

I was going to blog about how fucked I am that I fell asleep so early and woke up two hours later, but I don't feel like it now.

:(

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:17 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, August 30, 2001

I'm in computer lab at school still, which closes in 12 minutes, because the computers are so much faster even though I am eager to get home and sleep after my Long Day, and, anyhow, I read this entry from Tara.

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{Sweetie}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Screw those bastards. Screw the stress, and yay for a fresh new chapter opening up for you, I say! I'm glad you put that note in Rob's box. Whether he gets back to you or not, it was an awesome thing to do. I'm too new to employment to offer any words of wisdom, but I'd certainly indulge myself in as many ways as possible between now and the Next Job, if I were you.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:37 PM | shower me with attention

Okay, when you come visiting later next (almost this) month, you and I definitely have to kiss. ;)

I don't know if this will freak you out or make you roll your eyes, but don't be scared, but, rather, gently amused by the following revelation: after the Humber thing after we dropped you off, the first thing I said to the other goils in the car was, "Oh my god, I was totally flirting with him!" (Yes, in the valley girl voice.) I was just amused by this because I never flirt, I don't know how to flirt, and yet somehow I felt I was flirting with you. Is that not hilarious? Me flirting? I find this hilarious. So, anyhow, when you come to New York we can practice our flirting skills if you want. Or just go neon bowling. Either way, you will have a fun trip, yes?

(Now I have to reference a "Friends" episode, PLEASE forgive me, one and all: "Oh my god... THAT was flirting?!")

Oh, by the by, I started work today and it sho was fine. $13/hour for mostly sitting around reading "Glamour" magazine! Me likey! (Tomorrow the REAL work starts.) More later, I'm at school now and class starts in 10 minutes.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:20 PM | shower me with attention

I found my sleep disorder while reading a newsgroup called alt.support.sleep-disorder.

This is what I have.

Apparently the solution is to get at least 30 minutes of natural sunlight a day, or else I'll produce too much melatonin during the day and not be able to sleep at night, perpetuating the cycle.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:29 AM | shower me with attention

Steve's post about shyness, wallflowering and general social reluctance really struck a chord with me. I'd never heard of Trichotillomania, or compulsory hair-pulling, but it gave me pause. I wonder if it's at all related to compulsory eyebrow-tweezing, because I think I have a disorder there. Ah, well. Anyhow... I understand where you're coming from because it used to be a major problem for me. It's still a problem sometimes but since meeting the goils-- starting with Ade in '96-- I've really come out of my shell socially. The Tour was when I really blossomed in that department. It's all rather amazing for someone with the history of "eMOtional problems" that I have that I can meet new people with the degree of frequency that I have been. I mean, it's something like a miracle, considering my past, which I won't go into on a public blog.

Anyhow, Steve, I understand you. I think a lot of goils do.

I'm also well-acquainted with the procrastination in seeking a therapist. It's so hard. I haven't had one for years because the last one was useless. (I get my Gleemonex from my GP.) My mom started seeing one recently and was prescribed the same Gleemonex that I'm on.

My major problem at this moment is that it's 4 am, I've only gotten 4 hours sleep and I have to get up in 3 and a half hours to go to work. This is bad. Kirsten woke me up as she was going to bed and I couldn't fall back asleep.

I hope this chamomile tea works.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:00 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, August 29, 2001

I'm being punished for my sins.
That is all I could think today in Psych 100. As the teacher laboriously went over, for ten minutes, the concept of a variable... for christ's sake... I glanced at the desk of the boy next to me to see how he was getting through this condescending torture. I read the following note, which he was passing back and forth to the girl next to him:

Yo girl you bored too?
yeah I know dis alredy
so u got any hobbies
chillin, dat all
yeah me to, wachin movies and chillin. so u got a man?
yeah I do
He lucky to have a girl like you you got nice eyes
thanks

I'm sorry god, I'm sorry for all I did, I'm sorry I dropped out of high school and I'm sorry I never called the honours program back because I'm so lazy and I'm especially sorry for my hubris and my conceit and my snobbery in thinking that I am any better than my fellow students, these people who are in the night class because they work all day as I soon will and are going to college so they can make a better life for themselves. I'm sure I'm sorry. Please can we move past the scientific method before I have to kill myself?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:06 PM | shower me with attention

Today is the day of amusing myself by singing Gilbert and Sullivan songs I don't really know in my head and substituting the lines I don't know with new ones completely inappropriate to the context:

Go, ye heroes
Go to glory
Buy me books by Edward Gorey
We shall live in song and story
Go to immortality!

Go to death and go to slaughter.
I dislike Blythe Danner's daughter.
And our tears your graves shall water
Go, ye heroes, go and die!
(Go ye heroes, go and die, go ye heroes, go and die!)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:59 PM | shower me with attention

So, incredibly, I got a call last night from Stefany from the temp place telling me that my job wouldn't start for yet another day, because the computer they ordered for me to work on doesn't arrive until today. Is this a real job, or am I just a cat playing with a retreating string? So my stay of execution extends until tomorrow, when I'm told it will definitely start, and last for six weeks instead of three. (This means more money, but more exhaustion, so I'm both pleased and apprehensive.)

Math class in an hour.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:18 PM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, August 28, 2001

Holy shit.

There are no words.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:18 PM | shower me with attention

I have that commercial for "Storytelling Rock" or whatever the hell that CD compilation is that they show late at night on tv. In my head the snippets all run together in one long song:

Wake up Maggie, I think I've got something to say to you/I learned the truth at seventeen/You know I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, it felt good to be out of the rain/the day that Billy Jo McAllister jumped off the Tallahassee bri-idge/the cat's in the cradle with the silver spoon....

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:06 PM | shower me with attention

1. It's still Aggie's birthday. We're taking her out to dinner tonight. Probably to Rafaella's. (Her choice.) Excellent restaurant on Bleecker.

2. Terry just emailed me and said he tried to register for that Psych class and that there was no possibility of overtally. He couldn't get in. This sucks. Who will I play hangman with? Aw, Terry. Aw, man.

3. I had a dream that stuck with me when I woke up today and I wish to record it here. A bunch of us were at Scott's show. We were in a balcony watching it. It was the part with the Sock Monkey and Rebecca Fleck. Rebecca went into the audience to pull someone onstage to be healed by Pookie. In the dream Scott called Pookie "The Blind Monkey" (like Mr Slivko did with his blind monkey in 8th grade Earth Science). Scott came back onstage with a sexually ambiguous teenager with long blond(e) hair. The format of the healing was different in the dream than in the show; here, Rebecca asked the teenager to tell Pookie what was wrong. The teenager said, "Every morning in front of our house, we find that someone has written Levias in the snow. Who is Levias?"

I whispered to Gina next to me, "Do they have any neighbours named Levias? Sheesh."

The audience is growing restless now and throwing snowballs at the stage. Rebecca tries to regain control by performing mock-fellatio on Pookie's sock phallus. At this point, a well-dressed blonde woman storms down the aisle and screams to the teenager, "Get back to your seat this instant!" Scott whispers something to the teenager, who sullenly descends back to her chair as the audience pelts her mother with snowballs. (Why the audience is equipped with snowballs in this dream, I don't know.)

Scott comes over to us during this ruckus and sits down next to me. "The girl's name is Levias," he whispered to me. Understanding dawns upon me and I turn to the Goil next to me and say, "I get it. She was looking for attention, recognition from her overbearing mother." Pleased with my analysis, we turn back to the stage to see Scott changing for his next number.

I woke up repeating the name Levias. Levias, Levias, Levias. What does that mean? Of course, it means nothing, but who was that teenager? Who was that mother? What a strange and interesting dream.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:59 PM | shower me with attention

Kirsten bought me the brown boots I've long wanted, today. She gave them to me right before the math class we're both in. I put them on right there.

Terry is transferring into my Psych class. This is very good; someone to play hangman with. The teacher has the heaviest Chinese accent I've ever heard in my life. He seems okay. I don't think the class will be very difficult. This is good; I'm not looking for difficult.

Kirsten told me something else about the job she had last week; she mentioned in passing what school she goes to. Later she overheard one of the Chauvinist Sales Partners remarking to the other, "It's a shame she comes all this way and has to go back to Hunter."

Fucking jag-off. There's a little thing in this world called money, and some people don't have it, and can't go to fucking Ivy league schools, and are doing the best they can with their available resources.

Honestly, I don't know exactly who these people were that she was working for, but I'm pretty sure it was the devil.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:48 AM | shower me with attention

Today is Erica's birthday. Happy birthday, Ags.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:43 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, August 27, 2001

The following is excerpted from an email from my sister to our aunt about her job last week:

The rest of the staff is male. The charming old men are dears, I don't mind the "honey" "cookie" "sweetheart" shite from them. All the sales partners, however, are these maverick, loose-tied, slick-haired playboys who all resemble Duran Duran in their younger years. They all think I am darling. Of course I am, I'm a temp. Enjoy the hazelnut mocha while you can boys, cuz after Friday it's back to the regular old joe. ^^

This one sales dude (his name is Russ, he is Whitey McWhiteson! He makes me feel like Mr. T!) asked me if I was looking for a full time position. I am but I politely declined. For one thing, this place is way too out of my distance for convenience. For another thing, I'd rather burn lit cig butts into the back of my own knees than be called, "cuteness" every fucking day of my life. ^^ One of the Customer Services Reps told me Russ must like me. He "never hires full time positions" and "never tells anyone where he's going" and "never gives anyone nicknames".

Great.

I got similar reactions from the other sales reps. These fucks are married! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I feel like Annie when she first wanders into Daddy Warbucks house. Suddenly everyone starts singing:
"We've never had a little girl,
we've never had a little girl..."

So, that's my temp job. Tomorrow it will alllll be over. <=)

It was from this job, as a receptionist at a graphic arts place in Manhattan, that the previous temp to hold her position was fired because she was, as described by Kirsten's supervisor, "Average-looking, a little heavy". Because of this, her every slight mistake was taken "with more weight". They looked for the first excuse to get rid of her. She did as good a job as Kirsten did, but Kirsten, who is petite, blonde and fairly attractive, was offered a full-time position (which she promptly declined!), whereas Ms. Average was disposed of as quickly as possible.

The world makes me sick.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:10 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, August 26, 2001

I stayed up all night. At 11 a.m. I fell asleep. I got up at 3:30 p.m. No one is here but me and Riley. I am hungry but too lazy to go out and get food. I was reading The Handmaid's Tale all night. I'm about halfway through. I'm horrified and captivated. I got up and washed my hair. There's a bad 80's movie on. I have to go home tonight. I have to go to school tomorrow. I have to go read some more right now.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:20 PM | shower me with attention

I have a friend named Robert. He's a teacher. He teaches second graders. He was a lurker on Newsradio newsgroup and started IMing me. IMs from strangers don't usually lead to anything but IM-blocking with me, but for some reason we became friends. Maybe because he was very complimentary and thought I was a funny and interesting person. Funny how being complimented will keep you interested in someone. ;)

Anyhow, he's very important because he is responsible for kindling the interest I have in many of the musicians I love today. He sent me my first XTC cds in 1999, when I was taking the classes at Columbia, and I became obsessed with them there. (I first heard of them from sarah, who sent me a tape years ago and is responsible for a few of my other musical obsessions. ;) Then he started sending me Squeeze CDs, and they're one of my favourite bands. (See my Tilbrook rave from a couple of weeks ago.) He also sent me my first Michael CD, and that is now a well-documented obsession. He makes excellent mix CDs, does Robert. Most recently he initiated me to the joys of Neil Finn in his various incarnations. I admit that I haven't given the Crowded House CDs the attention they warrant, but I'm well known for taking ages and ages to start listening to a CD or tape. It's just the way I be.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:54 AM | shower me with attention