.two boyfriends.

January 27th, 1994 8:02pm

Dear Diary.

I am in fifth grade. I have two boyfriends. Their names are Daniel Dregne and Mark Taylor. I like them a lot. They are cute! I most like Daniel, but Mark is coming close for a tie. I think they are a tie. I wrote a letter to each of them saying "What's up lover boy?" Cristie and I wrote them. They are signed your secret loverS. Cristie also likes Mark Taylor. Haley, my sister, LOVES Adam. I maybe LOVE Daniel and Mark. Meagen Marie Dregne. Hmmm...Meagen Marie Taylor. Eh? Meagen Marie Carroll. Yea! Huhhh. Gotta go!

Love, Meagen Carroll
8:11pm


**notes from the awkward author:

-daniel dregne was the first boy that ever pranked called me, and inevitably my first crush.
-towards the end of 5th grade, i had 4 boyfriends. i think i peaked in 5th grade
-wow, i didn't know the definition of love
-really? what's up lover boy? that was my flirtation technique?
-good thing i wrote the start and end time, and also signed my full name. in case my diary didn't know who it was from.

.glory box.

i'm so tired, of playing
playing with this bow and arrow
gonna give my heart away
leave it to the other girls to play
for I've been a temptress too long

just...

give me a reason to love you
give me a reason to be, a woman
i just wanna be a woman

from this time, unchained
we're all looking at a different picture
thru this new frame of mind
a thousand flowers could bloom
move over, and give us some room

give me a reason to love you
give me a reason to be, a woman
i just wanna be a woman

so don't you stop, being a man
just take a little look from our side when you can
sow a little tenderness
no matter if you cry

give me a reason to love you
give me a reason to be ee, a woman
its all I wanna be is all woman

for this is the beginning of forever and ever

its time to move over...

-portishead

.sunday, bloody sunday.

i think i'm going to make sundays a thing for this blog. in the past few months, it seems i've been using sundays as a day for self reflection. and what better way to self reflect than to allow myself to pour out my thoughts in a public forum. yes. sundays, bloody sundays.

as mentioned before, i feel like 27 has been quite a year for self discovery. it's funny to think back to 10 years ago in mrs. pott's english class. i remember as we were graduating high school, we had to do a final 'senior project' of sorts, by choosing a theme for our life thus far, and making a 10 min speech about it in front of the class. mine, fittingly enough, was 'self-discovery.' and interestingly enough, 10 years later....it's still the theme.

i think what you would label me as, would be 'existentialist.' since i was very young, i've been on a quest to find out not only the meaning of life, but the meaning of MY life. why am i here? what is this? what does it all mean? and maybe that's a tad narcissistic, but maybe that's just me. who's to judge?

anyway, my point is. i may not always be right, and sometimes i may not even be nice. but know that i'm always sincere.

(even when 5 jameson and gingers deep.)

i wear my emotions on my skin. and maybe, just maybe. i'm starting to think it's not a bad thing.

.bridge over troubled water.

tonight is one of those perfect NY nights. warm, but no humidity, and calm with that relaxed vibe of summer. and as i sit here typing, i look to the right out my window, and it just reinforces how much i absolutely love living here.

of course, this perfect NY night really starts to remind me of EVERY night in LA, and of course the night wouldn't be complete without a bout of nostalgia. the air tonight reminds me of those summer nights when i was a kid. and we had been swimming in the pool all day. playing tube races, and little mermaid, and daily exercises, and then my mom would make nachos. and we'd swim up to the side of the pool, and grab a handful of the hot, salty, gooey chips, hands still dripping with pool water, getting them soggy but not caring in the slightest. nothing tasted as good as those nachos. and then after spending the whole day outside, we'd shower, eat dinner together as a family, and then go for a walk at dusk. hair still wet. in our pajamas. weather like this. nice.

it's sunday night, which means i'm alone in my apartment listening to bob dylan, and trying to hang onto the fantastic feeling that only comes with having a great weekend. realizing i've grown a lot this year, and while i was most worried about turning 27, so far it's proved to be one of the better years of my 20s. realizing that while i'm not quite ready to TEAR DOWN THAT WALL, i'm peering over the top...wondering where i can get a hard hat and a mallet. progress.

i heard this quote today, and i'm happy to say that this is how i feel with where i'm at in my life. and hope to continue crossing bridges, and remembering just the flint of a feeling that may have once been, replaced with the fire of something greater.

We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.

-tom stoppard

good things are coming.

.don't think twice, it's all right.

i wish i smoked cigarettes
for the kind of mood i'm in now
deep breath in
seeing the smoke
cascade out
instead of words.

i wonder if it's the longing
that makes me want to put
something to my lips
to keep them still.

for the time being
i'll fill this
whatever this is
with bob
and david
the manifestations of
the fantastic.

and my fingers
tap tap tap
on the keys
wishing they
and i
were with you
instead.

.werewolves of new york.

it's amazing sometimes that seemingly recreational activities sometimes parallel things in your life. which just supports my ever increasing theory that this whole thing we're doing on this planet here is some kind of weird, social/societal experiment by something greater than us, and everything truly does happen for a reason. coincidences can't always be such, and maybe, shouldn't be ignored.

after discovering a website that allows you to stream movies, tv shows, etc online, i've now caught up on true blood, and since rediscovered my love for Californication. maybe it's a little bit of me missing california, or maybe it's that this show is so fucking amazing, i can't help but be increasingly charmed by it the more episodes i watch. and yes, hank moody is an egotistical-yet-oh-so-charming asshole. but isn't that why we love him? isn't that why the good girls always go for the bad boys?

anyway. my point is this. it's funny when you have these internal thoughts and dialogues trying to convince yourself to do things differently, even though every fiber in your body has been telling you for years to do them another, but not necessarily the correct, way. and then you're watching Californication, and these exact issues are being played out in front of you, and they reach resolution. and you cry a little.

and yes, i'm a sap. so i cry at everything. but man, that's weird. i keep telling myself, what californication says. in life. my friends, their experiences, their lives, their choices. it's not always about me. it's not always about me. IT'S NOT ALWAYS ABOUT ME. how can i get out of my head? i feel like it's a mess inside, but i have no motivation to pick up a broom to clean it up. (interestingly enough, this parallels the state of my apartment right now).

but seriously. i am really going to give this whole thing a try. and while the proverbial "it' may not always be about me, this damn blog still can be.

girl's gotta have something for herself now, right?

.can't get next to you, babe.

trying to drown out my thoughts
with music
letting the bassline
instead of my heart
pump through my ears

"can't get next to you, babe"

i might be flailing
trying not to think
so much
i need to get out of my
own head

reminding myself
it's not about me
it's not about me
it's not about me.

.summer.

with summer
comes bluer skies
and a kind of heat that makes it hard
to want to wear even the smallest amount
of clothes.

and the sun-kissed skin
exposed
tempts even the most controlled
to want to touch.

a shoulder
ripe with freckles
and everything south

and romance.
or the idea of such
the
sex
love
irresistible urges
that force us to question
which is which
and does it really matter
anyway.

and with the solstice
my hair is red
but my heart
it is as the deepest sea
and my mind almost black
a blank slate
prepared for the etching
of another.

lover.

.in a new york minute.

i am feeling so much
but not allowing it
to rule me
to change me

i think i'm warranted to have
thoughts
but i think maturity
is realizing you can't act
(that's inappropriate for my regret)

trying to make an effort
trying to take control

trying not to let this take me again

and only i can help.

(everything can change)

ugh. this is terrible, but i'm trying to write again.

i was trying to avoid posting one of those "what does it all mean" blog things in my new 2010 life, but so has life become, that it seems that this might be the very way to help me deal with some of the seemingly endless, overwhelming stress in my life. and thus it begins. the whining.

i'm experiencing a pretty epic bout of writers block, as the stress continues. my fingers are strangers posting about my life, and myself only familiar now with words like "D5 master" and "calendar" and "telecine challenge." every night before i go to sleep, i have thoughts from work racing through my mind. was gillette approved? did google's shoot end on time so we're ensured to get the dailies? what did she say about additional shots she wanted? did i really have to be that much of a bitch? how can i be any better at my job? am i expecting too much, or are people delivering too little?

i think most of the stress i'm experiencing comes from issues with communication, a common problem in life. when everyone is an individual, coming from different families, places, cultures, backgrounds, how is it we're all expected to work together efficiently to come to a common end goal? while a lot of things in our life are made standard, to help people not only understand each other, but be able to work effectively with one another, there are certain things that are left open to interpretation, creating frustrations.

i am trying to pick out where i can do better, constantly striving to improve, but it's a slow process. i'm stubborn, plain and simple.

and why is it, i feel as though i'm constantly sabotaging myself to getting what i want? i want to lose weight, so inevitably i'll eat more and make excuses for why i can't work out. i want to have a social life, but choose to be a perfectionist and wrap myself up in work.

maybe it boils down to a lack of trust. i need to let go, or i'm going to go insane.

i really need to work on writing everyday. this has really gone downhill.

.first lady.

"obama condoms, obama condoms. feel like the first lady everytime...."

-broadway in SOHO

.cock pushups.

this is one of those stories that i feel like only happens to me, because i am the real-life liz lemon. sometimes i'm cute, a lot of the times i'm quirky, and more often than not, i'm fairly awkward.

in this new year of 2010, i have taken an interest in my health in trying to lose some pounds rather than put anymore on. i'm not obsessing about it (yet), just trying to eat a bit healthier, like trying not to wolf down burgers for lunch like it's my last meal on earth, and also trying to work out a few times a week. so far, it's been going pretty well, so i have to applaud myself. yay me!

so today's workout began like any others. i opted for the gym instead of yoga to switch things up a bit, and i felt like i had a lot of energy i needed to run out. arrived at the gym armed with my ipod, kick-ass workout playlist and giant container of water. when i go to the treadmill, i notice that ludlow fitness has acquired some new machinery. so new. so clean. so shiny. such big screens. and...a place to connect your ipod so you don't have to hold it. (omfg). so i go to plug in my ipod. plugs in, asks me if i want to save my workout (sure?) and a menu pops up on the big new shiny screen that asks me to find the music. so i'm searching for my awesome new workout playlist i spent the last 20 mins at work creating, and it's not coming up. in fact, the treadmill seems to be stalled. so i push a little harder on the screen. nothing. tap tap tap. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP. STAB STAB. furiously, i'm stabbing at this touch screen with my index finger trying to find music. i am switching songs, but can't hear anything. volume VOLUME VOLUME. nothing. then i see the screen change. oh great, must mean music is coming on! finally. i ease myself into my workout, turn on the treadmill and start to walk. that's when the song name comes up on the screen...in HUGE letters.

COCK PUSHUPS: TENACIOUS D

of all the songs my ipod could have chosen on shuffle, this is the one. this is the song the amazing new machinery at ludlow fitness chooses for my first gym workout of 2010. fuck. i almost spit my water out. fucking new shiny screen. TAP TAP TAP TAP. STAB STAB. GODDAMNIT. WHY WON'T THIS FUCKING TREADMILL TURN OFF.

after what seems like an eternity of having the phrase COCK PUSHUPS jump off the screen to the people on the treadmills next to me (and quite possibly the gym-goers behind me on the elliptical machines), the screen goes back to my simulated race track where i have now burned 10 calories both walking, and stabbing the touch screen trying to rid my workout of it's whorish phrases.

these gyms today and their machines...their...newfangled gadgets and...machines. maybe i should focus more on the yoga. sheesh.

.broken face, broken heart.

yesterday, a story broke about heidi montag of "the hills" fame having 10 plastic surgery procedures to attain what she calls "the best me." heidi is 23 years old, and in no way in need of any plastic surgery, including having fat injected into her cheeks (a sign of youth) and botox on her forehead. 23, is not a necessary age for these procedures. she's already young!

i am trying not to be judgemental, because i understand some people's reasoning behind wanting to have plastic surgery. physical deformities, results of accidents, improving bodily function (ie, deviated septums, etc), and sometimes just wanting to change something that can markedly improve mental health, when changed. but i think there is a difference between wanting "angelina jolie's eyebrows" and changing a physically/emotionally limiting feature one was so unfortunately genetically assigned.

it just makes me so sad that this girl, a beautiful 23 year old still growing and maturing girl, was so unhappy with her body and facial features that she put her life at risk to change them. if you read the article, it goes on to say that as a result of these procedures, heidi will now have physical limitations. while they don't go into detail about what they are, i can only imagine her DDD boobs and augmented ass may have something to do with it, since her body was not designed to support these larger features.

does no one learn from previous examples of seeing what extensive plastic surgery does to their body and mental state? weren't michael jackson and brittany murphey on copious amount of painkillers as a result of their procedures, and didn't that ultimately lead to more unhappiness and even (too soon?) their death?

i'm mainly just sad that this is the state of affairs that our country is in. that 23 year old girls feel that by going from an A to a DDD will make them happier, and injecting botox will ultimately keep them tapped into the so coveted fountain of youth. of course there are things that i've thought abot changing. sometimes i think my nose is too big, my lips are too small, my boobs are way way too big, etc. i really could go crazy if i thought about it. but when faced with the decision to change any of these things, i realize that this is my life. i'm living it, and this is the body i was given to live it in. there are things that i can control, like working out more, eating right, etc. but ultimately, i'm pretty damn happy to be in this body. it is mine, after all. not forever, but for the time i've been alloted to carry out my life on this earth. why would i want to fuck with it?

i just hope our society gets it's shit together, and soon. because i'm tired of reading these heartbreaking stories of girls trying so desperately to find themselves, by ultimately destroying a huge part of who they were given to be.

.this faded photograph.

even after living here for almost a year, i find myself getting lost in this city's beauty and sights and sounds everyday. often times i'll bump into people on the sidewalk, almost get run over by a taxi, or walk 2 blocks past my destination because there's so much to look at, so much to take in that's fascinating. an old building. a mural. a bike with one wheel. a restaurant i must have walked by a hundred times, now jumping out at me. the graffiti outside my apartment. this city charms me.

i've been to yoga twice this week in an effort to start taking control of my life. even when friends from work tempted me with the promises of happy hour cocktails, i was able to stick to my convictions in what i'm calling "working on follow through" time. commitments seem to scare me, so we're starting with baby steps. yoga, it seems, i'm able to keep. yes, baby steps.

inevitably, even with so much surrounding me in the present, bouts of nostalgia still pop up. a familiar song, running out of lotion and forced to use the jasmine bloom, the scent intoxicating with memories. a familiar album. photos. so many memories.

but slowly, the present is becoming more of a reality.

and i am becoming now. i define is.

and that's how it should be.

.i heart ny.

maybe it's this new city. maybe it's this new year. maybe it's the fact that i'm trying so desperately to make some sort of sense of life, and it helps to clear out my head by writing things down. but i want to start writing again. i haven't kept a dedicated blog since i graduated college, so i'm a bit rusty. but the more i write, the better i feel. so write your blogs at every meal.

or something like that.

but i hope this one is less whiny than my other ones. who knows. maybe i've grown up in 5 years, and maybe i haven't. nevertheless, i hope this serves as an adequate space for my musings. maybe i'll even learn something along the way. about life. about myself. about people.

here's to hoping :)