i told myself i wouldn’t do this but there is this id inside of me that’s forcing me to disclose that i am currently in the process of trying to quit smoking cigarettes.  forever.  um… i’m petrified of failing and ending up with lung cancer like my grams and her sis Ollie.  i’m the type of broad that likes to keep this kind of shit private, and not have to answer to anyone’s questions or status update requests.  i figure –i decide to quit, do it, and then six months later when someone who hasn’t seen me in hellas is all “ay, you got a smoke?” i’ll just be like “i quit.”  done and done and whatnot.  perhaps part of me feels i do need a minute level of that accountability bullshit, though.  ugh.  so here it is.

dedicated to the memz of my cancer sessions!  so long, smokey!

this is basically all i would have needed yesterday in order to contend with the elements/people that triggered last night’s panic attack.  but i survived, and like the Native-American-fetishist lesbian that made me hold a rock and shook a rain stick over my body for 5 minutes, mid-panic attack –”even though it feels like hell, anxiety’s never killed anyone.”

1. my aunt Carolyn.

2. having to listen to said aunt’s friend talk about her awkward son’s non-existent screenwriting career, and having her expect me to be even the least bit interested.  also, she sounded like that character from Office Space who got fired but no one told him.  you know, homie with the orange stapler that got moved to the basement and lit up the joint at the end.  him.  which, you know, is really charming whilst contending with nicotine withdrawal.

3. having to get plowed just to maintain.

4. my aunt Moo’s not-as-tactful-as-she-thinks insinuation that i’m anorexic because, according to her standards for me, i’m too thin.  aaaaand she’s an ex-bulimic who used to train recovering anos and buleems at Harvard so they could better assist the newest bunch of Ivy League messes.  you’d think a shrink would be hyper-aware of projecting their own fears on someone they don’t know as well as they think.

5. sitting around and talking shit about people (mostly other family members) under the veil of concern or feigned interest.  example: when Carolyn, yesterday, figured it was appropriate to verbally surmise one of my male cousin’s (not her son) state of chastity, or lack there of rather.

6. people asking me questions that i don’t feel i should have to answer.

7. being G’d into group outings with people i generally could give a fuck about, and being forced to pay for some activity i could truly give a fuck about.

8. boring conversations about boring places in Massachusetts that i’m OK about probably never being familiar with.

9. being too poor to construct my own, comfort-suited, albeit still obligatory, trip.  ideally this would include a peaceful solo ride on Amtrak –which, full disclosure, I usually have at least the option of doing but, a bitch is seriously busted at the moment–  a mid-afternoon departure out of South Station on Amtrak on the day immediately following whichever holiday it is, and a cozy room for one at an Arlington B&B.  this of course over my current reality; waking up at the crack-ass of dawn after getting approximately 1 hour of sleep, to pile into a rental with my aging stoner of a first cousin (once removed) and my great aunt Nancy to drive 5 hours to Boston and 5 hours back to New York after 3 days and 3 nights, and sleeping on the top bunk, over my 25 year-old, 6 ft. tall cousin, whom i trample every time i have to pee or go drunk-guzzle more fluids.  but she deserves abuse  so it’s OK.  on second thought, in the context of her life-experiences as of late, the joke i just made might not be funny.

10. my paranoia/legitimate complaints regarding my family telling people  that i’ve lived on my own in New York since i was 19, in the same tone as one would talk about their brat being potty trained –how “brave” i’ve been.  paranoia: because logically there isn’t malice there, and part of me really knows that.  legit-complaint: because they always just SOUND so fucking condescending, and when combined with the aforementioned paranoia, i feel like such commentary reduces my life to the same level of frivolity as a kid’s first stay at sleep-away camp.

11. being semi-incapable of relating to people that are my age and technically are at “similar places in life” but are so vanilla it makes my head hurt.

12.  the inertia-driven over-eating that takes place when one has no ends, no ride, and has consumed copious amounts of munchie-inducing smoke and fairly cheap booze.

13.  family dramz that create uneasy situations that have the potential to really fuck with my world.  and yes, i do realize how vague and livejournal-ey this item sounds but explaining precisely what i mean is A) none of yo’ business and B) is an entirely different blog post in itself, one of which i’m not sure i’ll be able to compose for another 3 years at least.  for real, for real.

14. forcing myself to laugh at my (white) family’s unfunny black jokes, and actually feeling more uncomfortable for them than for myself.  smh-status.

15. being thirsty but too chagrined to move.

16. running out of weed.

17. having my little Cambodian-born cousin Malaya comment on how much vanilla bean ice cream i managed to jam into a disposable coffee cup while blitzed, and reeking of weed and beer; “whoa, that’s a lot!”  her mom is the aunt that is afraid i’ll develop an eating disorder so naturally her response was a jarringly overzealous “that’s OK!”

18. the fact that i can’t seem to get any work done around here.

19. waking up at 5am after splitting a bottle of Riesling and a pitcher of disgusting golden wheat Bud at some sketchy tavern in Medford with my cousin/smoking this 40 year-old lesbian’s weed the night prior and feeling like my only option as far as blowing off steam and keeping a full-blown panic attack at bay is to blog about how much my family gets on my nerves, and either ironically or hypocritically (depending on how you choose to look at it) project all of my own neurosis onto them, their problems and flaws.  aw sheiit, i caught you off guard with that blast of self-awareness, huh?  you know what it is.

literally, this man’s music  is the only thing that is giving me the life necessary to survive the incredibly Caucasian weekend that faces me.

currently living for…

1.

this baby wearing a lacefront weave.

2. fat sacks

3. the arguments and diverse hate speech that flow free like a waterfall at my local Palestinian-American-owned bodega. [Ed. the hate speech comes from blacks, Jews, Russians, Palestinians --errybody, and is less racial and more homophobic --two separate thoughts-- just sayin'].

the usual Tahj-talk.

two snaps and a circle, you miserable motherfuckers.

attn Williamsburg: this is ironic (assuming homeboy sold life-insurance).

Det. Stabler’s kids are buck as shit.  Love that.

…for the most part.