Heart Shaped Donut

Last night I had the biggest grin on my face as I walked home from the subway stop eating my heart shaped dunkin donut. It's the one in the picture with light pink frosting and heart sprinkles...and it has a white filling inside too...and it was fresh from however they are made...and it was FREE. Obviously, I was eating my heart out. I didn't think I was still drunk, but looking back, I must have been. I started out at happy hour with wine, chocolate stout beer, a salty dog, a grey dog, and saki. Oh boy. When I got home, I had a couple more nibbles of things and then curled up in bed listening to tracy chapman with my vibrator. Again, thought I was handling things sober, but looking back, and feeling the way I'm feeling now, I have a new perspective on it. Lol.

Anyway, I woke up early this morning, surprisingly early for going to bed so late (4am-bedtime; 8:30am-wakeup) and have made some observations about myself, or decisions, or something. Basically, I think that my two new friends I hang out with all the time, Christina and Holly, are probably not the best people I should be hanging around all the time. And two, I'm challenging myself to not talk about food or watch tv about food for two days. This is the only place I'm writing this or declaring it.

It isn't out of some sort of guilt from yesterday, I don't feel guilty about eating a late night donut and shouldn't. In my head it was this sort of declaration and I felt soo fucking good about it and free and liberated, like I was turning a new leaf. And I need to, I'm spending my time worrying about things a little too much and now I feel like I'm worrying about worrying haha, but the point is, I guess I'm just making an effort to step back away from my own little world of 'shoulds' and make a genuine effort to appreciate and feel good about myself.

I've been drinking more which I don't mind, but I think that it's not going to progress my modeling or school. I love holly, but she's going out more than I want to be and last night I found myself with people I don't particularly care for, which makes me a bitch....funny how that works. And then as much as i adore Christina, her own self-image is shitty and I don't think she means to at all, but she's sort of brought me down sometimes...and I'm just now realizing that. Which sucks, because I really like her, but I can't fix her lack of self esteem and it's not the healthiest thing for me.

And food. Oh, food. I'm just unsafely obsessed. It's as if all I do is put you in my mouth and then you come right back out in words. A cycle, really. And honestly I'm coming to realize that it bores people. At first it could be slightly endearing, but then I think that it just crosses the line and gets to be over the top for everyone, and it's funny how this is like an epiphany for me or something...just the idea that people might not want to hear all the juicy details of everything i've eaten and wanted to eat. ha.

ha.

Anyway, my goal isn't to skirt food all together or ignore it...that would be impossible. But i just don't need to unnecessarily elaborate on it. Just go with wherever to eat if I make a plan for dinner or lunch...no debates. And then when it comes to the menu, same thing, no scrutiny, no attempting to read every nitty gritty detail and then imagine it all and debate all the possible outcomes...just glance and go. I used to do that...i remember a time that i'd just ask if they had what i wanted without even looking at the menu. it was a non-issue. wow.

so here it is. i'm going to test run these two days and see how they go with every intention of extending them.

Walking Away

I just realized, right now, that I've been attempting (somewhat subconsciously) to runaway from my problems here in New York. The first being my apartment drama, which has cooled down somewhat, but still makes me quietly want to just slip out...but I don't have that amazing downtown replacement apartment lined up yet!

The other is, I'm terrified for fashion week! Like, I'm intimidated beyond belief. That's why I've been pushing for Asia so much and wanted to leave, not because I don't want to make money, but because I'm scared I won't!

Stupid, stupid girl. I'd rather go half way around the world rather than put myself out there. THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO! NYC FASHION WEEK! FUCK ME. So this all hit me soooo hard when I couldn't sleep. I woke up yesterday and watched Valentino: The Last Emperor and went to bed watching Picture Me, a video diary/documentary by this model Sara Ziff, who was kind of a big fucking deal. She was in the circles and doing the things I wanted to be doing. And I'm scared I can't because I wasn't scouted at 12 and didn't get big when I was 18 so now, at 22, (she was 23 by the end of the documentary) I don't have 5 hardcore and 6 softcore years of modeling behind me. I have basically a year of experience and almost 23. But no one has to know. This is my first season in NY, so I'll say that. And I think I'll be 19 and pretend I'm not graduating with a degree in Architecture, if I'm so fucking worried that i'm too old for these people.

And I sent an email to my booker saying I want to go over my walk. Girls aren't born with good walks, they are taught. And big agencies bring in catwalk coaches to show them what to do, and that's how they know. So I couldn't sleep last night getting all worried that I didn't know how to walk and stayed up late watching how-to videos and stupid shit...and so this morning, i'm deciding to not be intimidated. to just practice and do everything in my power to work on what i have control over and do the best that i fucking can. i know i'll work and get booked for some stuff...and everything in this business happens like dominos.

phew, i'm glad i've finally faced the music..to myself...instead of just saying i don't care about fashion week and want to go to asia. i do care, and i want to do it and want to be good at it.

hello

I'm sitting in my bed with Nishiel as she reads a book on astrology out-loud. Aries are crazy mother fuckers - yea, you and me Bri - CRAY CRAY. I miss you and V. You're posts make me giggle. This is my shortest post ever - just wanted you to know your words are delectable and are deliciously digestable in me tummy. LOVE you!

p.s. SO lovely to see you V this New Year's Eve - it was amazing.

Home Sweet Home

that's the name of a bar my friend Kelsey always goes to in the LES. She's mentioned it a lot, and I can never remember the name. I always thought it had Alabama something. My reasoning makes sense and made us laugh about it.

35-46 Crescent Street, Astoria, NY, also, (strangely enough) has that same name to me. And to my (I love how Valerie uses this word!) flatmates, Valerie and Cris. And to (oh dear!) bedbugs. Ewww.

Let's stop talking about them. Oh, wait, lets stop living with them (it's been a month...second extermination is scheduled for January 14th). I have enough flatmates, thank you bedbugs. And I enjoy Valerie's company just as much as you do...I just choose not to snuggle up and nibble her neck and cheeks out of affection.

Home Sweet Home has been crawling with drama. Between our Brazilian lease holder abroad in Israel and our Muslim landlord who doesn't approve of Israel or turning on the heat, to our loud and (sadly) selfish other Brazilian. And did I mention the bedbugs? Yes, I believe so. They have their own room to themselves. It's the freezing cold (Thank you Landloard Amhed!) room in the back of the apartment. And then there is me and Valerie. We talk a lot. She has this incredible accent from god knows where since she's lived all over and speaks everything...but I love it. I love the way she talks and I find myself trying to talk like her when I talk with her. It's soo cool.

We talk about food. Well, I started that one and believe she is slowly getting hooked on the cooking channel. It's always on. And we talk about movies and tv since she's a producer. And we are just so dainty in our agreements and being frustrated with the ridiculous bedbuglicious hot & cold rip-off drama of the home. And we are, day after day, both in Home Sweet Home, pretty much all day. She works from home. I watch things and cook impatiently in Home Sweet Home waiting for life to start again.

How do I walk in high heels again? earning money? what money? what modeling?

MY KAKA

I want to write this down because it was too funny to never be written down, even if it is late.

I was talking to Ajna on the phone a while ago, and took a pebble/popcorn shit at the same time. It wasn't messy or anything, so I didn't need a lot of toilet paper or anything. (This detail may seem tmi, but is necessary for later.) Well, the whole thing didn't flush and I had tea screaming at me in the kitchen. So I put the lid down on the toilet and made a note to myself to go back and flush again in a few minutes, after the toilet bowl had refilled. Of coarse, I forgot.

My new roommate from Japan, Kaori, went into the bathroom. I didn't think anything of it. She then quietly sought out Monica, our other roommate because she was having problems in the bathroom. The toilet was flooding. Monica and Kaori go to the bathroom together so Monica and check out the problem, since she's the lease holder and the one that would know where the plunger is, or if we had one.

At this point I realize what's going on and that I had left my shit in the toilet. So Kaori must have gone to the bathroom, seen my shit, and preflushed. And for whatever reason (not me clogging it! I swear or I'd easily admit it!) the toilet started flooding. The toilet lid was down.

I tell Monica that I had left my shit in the toilet before Kaori and that I think poor Kaori tried to preflush and must be so embarrassed because we'd think it's her shit in the flooding toilet. Water is overflowing at this point onto the floor.

I open the lid to find my shit, after all, this is definitely my problem and I don't feel guilty, just bad that Kaori was so mortified about it when it was me. I couldn't stop laughing. But there was no poop! Monica and I scan the floor if it had fallen out...but there was no pebble pooop to be found!

I turn to Kaori and ask her where my shit had gone. That I know there was shit, because it was mine. Well, she threw it away. In the trash. The thing is, Kaori isn't totally fluent in English, she's still learning. So she demonstrates her action of woosh!, gently and swiftly tossing the little poop into the trash. Only a few key words are spoken, like 'trash.'

Oh My God. OH MY GOD! My poor foreign roommate threw away my shit! She was so self-conscious about Monica thinking it was her shit, that she threw it away in the trash!

I couldn't stop laughing, in my silent choking way. I actually slid to the ground laughing, in the bathroom, in the overflowing toilet water. I couldn't stop. Monica is still piecing together the whole story too since English isn't her first language either (she's Brazilian).

So there the three of us are. Monica and Kaori kind of confused and worried about the overflowing toilet...and me, laughing my ass off on the floor of the little bathroom. They started laughing too, delayed, once they were able to straighten out the story with each other and the details with me.

"So where's the poop Kaori? Sabrina said that she did kaka in the toilet and left it here. Sabrina, why would you leave your kaka in the toilet?".....(my broken explanation)..."I, I didn't want you think mine...so trash."

I got up and out of the bathroom when Monica notified the landlord and he came up with a plunger and stopped the flooding.

After a month of Monica and I living together, we definitely broke the ice for the first time, in terms of comfort. Soft spoken, disciplined Kaori did on her second day.

We drunkenly recalled the episode over our family, international thanksgiving feast. Kaori, in still-broken-but-much-improved English confessed she did it with her bare hand. She said it was so little, and not messy or smelly.

Voicemail!

The best part of my new years was waking up to six missed calls and two voicemails from Ajna, Alana, and Cait I woke this morning.

I babysat for the editor of Glamour last night. I spent the night savoring super good chicken tortilla soup and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. I then got ready to go out after they got home at 1am. I didn't end up going out though, so I came home. And watched episodes of The Office till I fell asleep.

My dad would have been 66 today.

Lets go to the Italians!

A week ago we went Christmas tree shopping. First we went where we have been getting our tree for the last three or four Christmases, the Lowes parking lot. The tent was gone, they were out of Christmas trees. We then went to the tree tent we passed on the way to Lowes, which had a cardboard sign reading 'No Trees.' Strike two. Then we went to Home Depot, which we also passed, and they had some trees under their tent that were fenced off. Strange. My mom and I walked into the garden section and asked a guy about them. Apparently, those trees were quaranteened for bugs. and slugs. Hmm.

We went to Walmart. They were out of trees. I called another walmart, and then another one. I called the Publix supermarket by our house too. They had two trees left. A big one and little one. My mom sarcastically exclaimed that I should call the lady back and tell her to run outside and put a 'SOLD!' sign on the cheaper one. She scoffed at having a reject supermarket tree, and how we should go to the Italians. For safe measure, I called another supermarket, the one closer to us. And then three more...all of which were out of trees.

How can no one have any live christmas trees left?
("Yes, a real, LIVE tree.....Oh, okay, thank you for checking, Merry Christmas.")

Rejected, bugged, and slugged, we circled to the infamous Italians, our ultimate backup joke through our ongoing tree hunting saga. What I mean by that, what my mom meant by that, is the Italian American Society had a tree tent that my mom had seen trees at sometime before....and they did have trees! In fact, a clearly non-italian tree farmer told us that they had just gotten a fresh crop the day prior. My mom made small talk about how all the rain stopped us from buying a tree earlier. It rained for 20 minutes probably in the whole week, but it happened to be the only 20 minutes my mom, diego, and adri had piled into the car and tried to purchase the Christmas tree before.

But you must have a live tree. Why do so many people just settle for fake trees?

The woman proudly took us to the biggest tree, the only $90 tree left. The rest were a normal size, for around $75. Oh no!

We found one for $65 we liked, but the longer I held one of it's hundreds of hands, standing guard from the real Italians who were tree shopping along side of us, the longer my mom had to think about how even $65--for that tree--was a little steep. The Italians had the right idea, snatching up the little $35 5 1/2 foot neighbor.

So we found the other shorties and picked a plump, quaint, little $35, 5 1/2 foot tree ourselves. It fit in a big bag in the back of the car.

She was easy to bring in the house and set up. No latter was necessary to put our angel at the top, and half our ornaments stayed wrapped up in outdated newspapers.

The tree fulfilled the spirit of our humble Christmas this year. It's real cute.