Enough already
Really, July, you have not kept up your part of the deal. You got off to a good start and had the potential to be a much better month than June, but you've quickly became much, much worse. And, yes, I realize that I have not stepped on more glass. But when I made that bargain, I did not at all imply that it would be OK to let me bruise/break a rib while riding a roller coaster instead. Again, an injury that involves going to the doctor, having a nurse poke at me and tell me that something's wrong but there's nothing she can do about. So now I have a prescription for heavy-duty Advil and a discomfort that should go away in about three to six weeks. Thanks. The horrible glass/foot incident even cleared up more quickly than that. Argh.

Sometimes you have to wonder, is moving on the best that you can do?
And sometimes the answer is yes. But you have to be willing to take a risk and ask a tough question to get there, or to start to get there. You have to have courage. At least now you know the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and you can really let go. It wasn't meant to be, and that's OK. It just means the best is yet to come.

There she is ...
So yesterday, I opened my mailbox and discovered a postcard telling me, "You could be next!" Ooh, perhaps I'd already won a million dollars. Then I noticed the girls wearing tiaras, and I assumed it was for my roommate, the Southern sorority girl. But, no, Miss USA was inviting me to apply for the Miss New York USA Pagent. Too bad there isn't still a talent competition. It would have been a tough call: drinking Guinness or grammar (And now, watch, as I effortlessly parse this list of verbs!). Either way, I'm sure I would have won the judges over easily. My only other question is who the hell did they buy my name from? Probably not NOW or NARAL or Jane.

She wore hot pink
She looks like a movie star in the wedding photo that now sits on my bureau instead of hers. She rode a cross-country train to marry a man she hadn't seen in a year but who had written her a letter every single day they'd been apart. After the wedding, she drove to Mexico to smuggle back gas for the car they had borrowed. She gave birth to her first son the same day she got a telegram saying her husband was missing in action after being shot down over Germany. Wearing a dress and an apron, she helped build the house she'd live in for the next 60 years. She'd been known to drive a milk truck to church while wearing a mink coat. In her wallet, she still carried an essay one of her sons wrote in eighth grade about how she was the best mother in the world. She kept every letter and card and bill she'd every received (cancelled checks from 1949, thank you notes from her grandchildren, wedding invitations and, of course, that telegram), all neatly organized. She made sure her children got good educations and never felt poor. She knew how to stretch a dollar, could work miracles with coupons and loved getting a good deal. She made sure her grandchildren knew their motorcycle-driving, sprint car-racing, house-building grandfather, who miraculously survived being shot down over Germany twice but died of cancer before they were born, almost as well as if he'd still been alive. She could be a tough critic and always spoke her mind but you could still tell how much she loved you, how proud she was of all her family. She was always fashionable, always glamorous. Not even her long illness could take that away from her. She was fiesty and independent and, above all, courageous. She lived life to the fullest. She wore hot pink to her own funeral. Good-bye, Gram. I hope I've inherited your courage and strength.

That bad day?
The rest of the day was even worse. Lucky me.

Forget Friday the 13th
I realized that Sunday the 17th has been sort of cursed for me this year. First heartbreak, then death. Good thing there aren't any more this year (I checked), because I think the next step up is destruction. Or maybe murder and mayhem. Either way, not good.

I blame Harry Potter
I have to pack, and I'm really don't want to. I find myself longing for a wand, so that with a few flicks of the wrist and appropriately muttered phrases I could make all the necessary and appropriate items gather themselves up and pack themselves neatly in my suitcase. Too bad I'm a muggle. Excuse me while I go climb on top of a tall stool to get to my suitcase and then proceed to stuff half the items in my closet into it because I'm totally incapable of making a decision right now.

I need a hug
Today has sucked on a level I can't begin to explain. Well, I could, but I not going to. And everyone I really need a hug from is much to far away. So instead I'm settling for Ben & Jerry's, Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi and a copy of the new Harry Potter.

Life's too short for living with ifs and might have beens
I'm considering doing something crazy. Something there's so many reasons not to, but one really good reason to do it. But is it too late? Do I really have the guts to do it or even bring it up? Gah.

Being cryptic
Yes, I am. Deal.

Oh, and for the record
Great America is far superior to Great Adventure.

Glad to be on solid ground
I've spent at least four hours on public transportation today. At least. As I was never any farther than maybe a 10-mile radius from my apartment, this is depressing.

And you would be growing up when?
So I spent that long on various buses and subways because I had to go to Jersey to set up a photo shoot, return to the city for an interview with the aforementioned pop punk band, go back to Jersey for more photo shoot preperations, and then finally come back to the city. Even writing that sentence makes me tired. It all went relatively well, even though I was so crazed and stressed by the end of the day that I ended up gorging on chocolate with our photo editor to calm down. (Hey, we had to buy it for the photo shoot ...) The main thing I learned today is that apparently being in a semi-famous band means you get to make as many dirty jokes and comments as you want during interviews, even if it's for a magazine for 10-year-old girls and you're 26. I tried to look all disapproving and get them back on track, but one of them would just lean over and touch my knee and assure me they were only joking. It's not that they were jerks. Really, I think they would have been fun to go get a drink with, but I'm just trying to do my job here, people. Would you mind making it a little easier? I'm really not going to be able to work that debate on Mischa Barton's breast size into my next sidebar. Thanks!

St. Louis, Hot Summer
It's amazing how much more sense the world makes when you're with your best friend. St. Louis was just what I needed: nachos, bad films, frosty beverages, grilled meats, exploding stuff, walking across the Mississippi (This wasn't vital, but it was cool.) and spending plenty of time with the other half of my brain.

Side note: For future reference, I recommend flying into LaGuardia Airport at about 9:30 or 9:40 on the Fourth of July. You get to fly directly over fireworks throughout the New York metro area, including part of the NYC display. Unbelievably beautiful. Highlight: being directly over the Statue of Liberty as a purple and gold firework exploded. Good times.

July, July
So fare, July is shaping up to be far superior to June. After a real, live leaving-the-state vacation, I had a nice quiet weekend at home. I got to watch my favorite movie on DVD. I rearranged the furniture in my bedroom in an attempt to air out my head and my life. So far it's working really well, and my room seems much bigger some how. I took myself on a date (dinner at Burger King and going to see Bewitched, yes I'm a cheap date). I bought Ben & Jerry's and sat on my fire escape eating ice cream, listening to the Ally McBeal soundtrack for the first time in years and looking at the stars. It was a perfect weekend. I spent Sunday sitting in the shade in Central Park, reading and waiting in line for tickets to Shakespeare in the Park. I made friends with a really lovely middle-aged couple (She's deaf, and they've been coming to interpretted performances at the Park for 15 years.) who gave me half an everything bagel for breakfast and watched my spot while I got a hot dog for lunch. (You work up quite the appetite waiting in line for six hours. I went to brunch with a friend. I went to the aforementioned play (As You Like It) with another friend. It was't very eventful, but it was one of the happiest weekends I've had in a while. Come on, July, let's try to keep this up. I'll do my part if you do yours. (And that includes not letting my step on any more mystery pieces of glass.)

Random Question
What does one wear when going to interview a certain Canadian pop punk band that's popular with the MTV set? How to balance professional with hip and not totally stuffy is a bit of a puzzle.