I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
It’s the beginning of a new decade, a time to think of where we are and where we want to get. It’s also simply the beginning of a new year. This January, we vow to be more accomplished, less fat, or whatever the case may be.
And I’ve coined it the Year of the Ass. Because so far in 2010, I’ve felt like ass.
Life has been one pain in the ass. Actually, many. Many pains on one pale, grumpy ass. Some would say I’m even acting like an ass.
So yeah.
How does that story go?
Some woman was attacked back in the 1960’s. It was night. Summer probably. She screamed from the streets and many people heard the commotion and looked out their windows.
And they didn’t do anything. They watched her get killed.
If it truly is the thought that counts, then I guess some people who have given me gifts over the past 26 years were cognitively challenged.
‘Tis time for my third video post wherein I discuss bad presents past.
Warning: May involve something related to puberty.
When I broke up with Cade, he left my apartment without hugging goodbye, walked down Central Park West, and disappeared.
For months, I’d look out for him as I walked around the Upper West Side. We didn’t live all that far apart - my feet must have covered his tracks myriad times. Then he started working at an office downtown near mine.
But we never saw each other again.
Years ago, I bought a pair of Tod’s black leather loafers at a thrift shop. They’re in perfect condition, which makes me wonder what happened that would leave these expensive and handsome shoes unworn.
Did someone die? Did someone live and break someone else’s heart?
Or were they just the wrong size and unreturned?
I’ve been going through some old blog drafts written at various points in the past. Sometimes I’ll save something that tickles me, even if it’s apropos of nothing.
Or sometimes it’s too painfully apropos. For awhile, anyway.
This is from “A Dog Is No Reason to Stay Together” by Damian Kulash, Jr. as featured in Things I’ve Learned From Women Who’ve Dumped Me, edited by Ben Karlin:
Sandra Cisneros is one of my favorite writers. She’s written one novel titled Caramelo, but I love her poetry more.
This poem, “No Mercy” from the incredible collection My Wicked, Wicked Ways, has been on my mind all week:
Next Thursday, I have yet another hunk of writing due for my fiction workshop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I signed up to turn in so much writing two weeks after the last batch.
I know! Probably that I’d be able to get Junot Diaz to ghostwrite.
In exactly two days, I’m going to freak out and be unable to consume any media - it’ll be all about pooping it out. So I’m trying to get some reading in tonight. The following dialogue from Carrie Fisher’s Postcards from the Edge grabbed me.
I regale my co-worker friend Clark with my more interesting dating stories. And believe me, they’ve been interesting. Alas, I can’t blog most of them.
So I just tell friends offline, including Clark. It’s nice to get a guy’s - especially a normal guy’s - opinion.
