Thoughts While Procrastinating

I can't help but look at the Empire State Building because, for one, it's right outside my bedroom window; two, because it's all lit up and three, because it's massive and could kick all the other building's asses. 

And every time I gaze at it, I realize that it's one of the only constants in my life. It'll never get old. It will never die or leave me. And then I smile, and think about all the stories it has to tell. Like how many kisses took place on the top deck, how many proposals? How many elated tourists excitedly chattered about the view and how many little kids squealed with a combination of awe and fright? And then, of course, my mind wonders to Cary Grant in An Affair to Remember and I wonder how many people, in real life love affairs, romantically met up there?

And, of course, then I think of the time my brother bumped into the guy who ended up shooting seven people up there in 1997. What luck that my father, brother and I escaped when we did (but of course that didn't stop my mom from convincing herself that we were all dead because she saw the news story about it. Wait, what? Why didn't she call our cell? Oh yeah. Because normal people didn't own them then)

Things I learned When I Went Back Home For The Weekend

A) My Dad needs to grow up

B) I love my mom

C) I really want to be the girl from Breathless when I grow up (minus the whole lover who's a murderer thing):

Random Musings

Some crazy man kept on offering his seat to people standing in the subway. It was a little too polite. He kept calling the females "Mam" and the men "Sir". 

Or maybe he wasn't crazy and just legitimately polite and we're the crazy jaded rude ones. Who knows.

Also spotted: an Amy Winehouse lookalike on 14th and 5th. She had the hair, the clothes, even the piercing above the lip. The only thing missing was the crack pipe. Seriously. 

Nothing too exciting happened at school today. I don't particularly like Tuesdays or Fridays because I only get to see my friends for umm, 15 minutes? Not cool. But my English class was cancelled, which I guess is pretty cool considering I didn't finish Frankenstein (yes I read sparknotes but then I felt guilty and wanted to finish the whole book. I only got up to chapter 22). I feel kind of bad about not liking Frankenstein honestly. I love the whole concept of the tragic hero and how the monster has redeeming qualities. But for some reason I can't finish it!

What's wrong with me?

I just realized that I fall in love with too many literary characters and I must stop this at once. Unless I somehow find a way to materialize myself into the books that fuel these delirious scenarios that I have made up in my head. 

If someone were able to read my brain, they sure would have a fun time. Because I even get amused by what goes on in there. But most of the time it just confuses me. 

This is why I need to write more often. Because then I can channel my thoughts into something productive, rather than rambling in a blog, journal or index cards that I'm fond of writing nonsense on (most of these are crammed into my desk, never to be seen again by the way). 

Mmkay gonna work on a screenplay now. Yes? Good. Excellent. 

I saw a peculiar man on the subway today. He looked all tough on the outside. His skin was gruff and dark and he had thick stubble on his face. He had a piercing in the middle of his chin and he wore a leather jacket. And yet, he had the longest, most elegant finger nails I have ever seen. They looked healthy and strong and they were grown out, like how a woman from the upper east side would wear them. Just unpainted. 

Go figure. 

Well I'm finally feeling normal again and who knows why? I guess you just have to except the fact that you go through stages of highs and lows and this time the low didn't last too long, luckily.

I'm excited for this weekend. My friend Kristen is coming down from Potsdam and I can't wait for her to meet my awesome friends and see my equally awesome apartment. And I can't wait to celebrate anti-valentines day and get drunk and just feel like your average college student. Who knows she's surrounded by people who care about her and always feels like she can be herself around them. I like not trying to prove myself to anyone. And I like not having any intention of being anyone than who I want to be : ) I know I'm being corny, but that's what happens when you're legitimately happy I guess. 

And now I must go and study for film. But I don't mind really because I find the cinematography chapter fascinating. It made me realize how much I really want to be a cinematographer one day, despite being a female and recognizing that the film industry is highly sexist.

Also, my roommate just made exquisite chocolate chip cookies. Maybe I will get used to having two roommates and start popping out of my bedroom once in a while so they don't think I'm socially inept (which I am, but that's besides the point). 

So I've finally moved out of my parents house. Yay!?

But why to I feel so lousy? And I'm not really convinced that it's just because I miss my family and my bed and the smell of my old room. I guess that's all part of it.

But I'm scared that I might be slipping into depression. And I don't want to go back there ever again. I'm trying to keep myself out of it. But sometimes I don't even care enough to try and drag myself out. And that's when I get sadder because I've realized it's already started to penetrate me. And I wish I could go back to where I was. 

So I'm trying to concentrate on doing well in school (2nd semester started last week) and my writing in order to distract myself. I'm toying around with these two ideas, both romantic stories. I guess that's what happens when you're pretty much going through a personal drought for a time far longer than I would like to mention. Both stories are a bit far fetched, and I haven't decided whether or not they would be better as screenplays or novels. One's more of a dramatic romance story and the other is an eccentric romantic comedy. 

School's been going pretty well, although I wish my classes were similar to my friend's classes because all of our breaks are all over the place and I don't see them in between classes as much as I'd like. 

Also, I'm pretty much an adult now. Since moving into this new apartment in manhattan, I have to go food shopping. And do all of my own laundry. And remember not only to feed myself, but to eat healthy too. And I have to buy things I would have never thought of buying before, like hand soap and q-tips. And I have to make my bed now because I'm sharing a bedroom with someone other than my messy sister. But the sad thing is, that's really not adult at all. I don't even pay taxes or have to deal with health insurance yet. And I know in the back of my mind if any emergency ever happened, or I was desperate for money my parents would totally help me out. 

How on earth am I going to deal with real adulthood in a few years?