It's a gorgeous sunny day, and I've decided to celebrate it by staying in all day writing. With occasional breaks taken to catch up on my reading. I have decided that Summer '09 is a summer I'm going to devote mainly to books. I am working on a summer reading list. Suggestions welcome and encouraged. So far I have read "The Emperor's Children" by Claire Messud which I HIGHLY recommend if you don't mind a long read. Personally, when I get immersed in a really good book I like to be there for awhile. I also read "Letters To A Young Poet" by Rainer Maria Rilke and am now reading "The Mill On The Floss" by George Eliot. I'm so freaking scholarly.
Summer used to be the time that I devoted to the other b words- boys and booze. But Chelsea O'Houlihan is turning over a new leaf if you will, and I think getting back in touch with the bookworm I used to be is a good start.
So yes, these days I can usually be found curled up with a book and a cup of tea. I may as well get a cat so I can fully embrace my sad single girl status.
The funny thing is- I'm really not that sad. I'm enjoying spending all this time with myself. Maybe I am a recluse at heart.
I've also been writing a bunch. Screenplays. Short screenplays. There's a short film festival I want to enter, so I'm trying to committ all my crazy ideas to paper, see which one has the most potential and shoot it. I really have no idea where all this ambition came from. But as many of you know, I'm a frustrated filmmaker at heart and all I really want to do is make crazy violent horror movies. And maybe star in them. I've got a helluva scream.
Maybe it's part of "growing up" that I no longer find myself having the urge to go to crazy parties and throw myself at strange men. I'd prefer to stay in with a good book or a good movie. It's not that I'm anti-social. I love my friends. I just wish we could hang out in settings that don't involve booze. I miss going to museums with people or spending a day in the park. Most nights, I'd just rather stay in with friends and play scrabble.
Just yesterday I was having a conversation with a friend about how we're both at a place in our lives where we value friendship more than sex. Does this mean we're adults? The horror.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Bad Date Alert! Part Deux
So....for those of you who were anxiously awaiting the next installment in "Chelsea's Date From Hell"....wait no more.
So yes. He had a giant portrait of his ex at the tender age of seventeen hanging as a HUGE warning signal to me. I could almost hear "Danger! Danger Will Robinson!"
But did this stop me? I'd like to say yes. I'd like to say a lot of things. But as will probably come as a surprise to NONE of you (unless you are a stranger who stumbled upon this blog)--I stayed.
He gave me a tour of the apartment and I couldn't help but feel that the place was a little...how should I put this? Oh right. GIRLY. Not in like a metrosexual single guy way but in like a.....a girl definitely probably lives here.
Maybe it was the Sophie Kinsella novels in the bookshelf. Maybe it was the copy of "Now And Then" on the DVD shelf. Maybe it was the embroidered pillow on the couch that said something like "Friends are flowers in the garden of life". I received confirmation that the pillow was indeed lovingly embroidered by the ex. I could tell I would hate this girl.
Despite all of these horrible signs, I ended up hooking up with my date as we watched "Evil Dead". Don't you dare judge me! I am in a really weird place in my life right now and he was REALLY cute! Of course, all the while I can't stop looking over at the giant portrait. It's like she's staring at me! I half expected her eyes to start glowing....oh, who am I kidding? I TOTALLY expected it! Anyway, mid-hookup I had to get up and pee because I am extremely smooth and not awkward in the least.
I step into his bathroom. I KNOW I'm going to snoop. Of course it's wrong, of course I shouldn't, of COURSE I'll find things I don't want to see. But like Alice in Wonderland I was "curious and curiouser" and I had to scratch my itch.
The medicine cabinet reveals that he is on Lexapro. Hey, ain't no shame in getting help from an anti-depressant. But....it did make me think perhaps he had a little more baggage than I wanted to deal with right now.
I'm not really sure what then compelled me to pull the shower curtain aside. I really, truly wish this was the part in the story where I revealed his ex-fiancee to be behind the curtain, hiding in the tub. When I make this into a movie or a one-act play, that IS what will happen. I half expected her to be there myself. She wasn't. But a couple of Herbal Essences bottles and a pink razor were!
This was all the evidence I needed. Either this guy was keeping his apartment creepily preserved like Miss Havisham in her wedding dress, awaiting his fiancee's return.....or she still lived there.
I stormed into the living room filled with high-pitched accusations when I noticed he wasn't there. I stepped into the bedroom to find him NAKED on his bed. He totally pulled the "Naked Man" on me!!! If you watch "How I Met Your Mother", you get that. If you don't...you are a loser and should really fix that. I now had to confront a NAKED man about his shady, lying ways. It was very "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" and I was simultaneously laughing, crying and yelling all at the same time. The tears were, I assure you tears of laughter.
He insisted that the ex-fiancee didn't live there- she was in Atlanta at school!
"And where does she live when she's not at school?" I asked.
He got sheepish. He sold me a whole lot of garbage about how she visits there when she's not at school...blah blah blah....the wedding is on hold....blah blah blah....they're not really still engaged.
"Did she give back the ring?" I asked.
Silence.
I gathered my things to go. He put his hands on my shoulders to stop me, insisting that he can see other people.
"That's fine." I said. "But you're not going to see THIS person." This is one of the few times in my life that I've said something that I actually feel is worthy of being a line from a movie. I hope to get to use that line again someday. I'm sure, given my tormented romantic history, that I will.
He then starts to cry. Sloppy, sloppy tears. I am so uncomfortable that all I want to do is get out of there. He tells me that it's been really hard with the long distance from his "ex", that he's not sure they belong together, that he's not sure she's the one. I tell him he seems like a nice person but he should really get his sh*t together. And then I leave him, naked and crying.
Seriously. I don't think I'm going to date again. I'm going to take this as a really big sign.
At least I know how to scare people away now though! Next time I'm trying to get rid of some dude, I'm going to invite him over to my place and hang up some terrifyingly giant portrait of one of my exes. So I guess it wasn't a COMPLETE loss.
So yes. He had a giant portrait of his ex at the tender age of seventeen hanging as a HUGE warning signal to me. I could almost hear "Danger! Danger Will Robinson!"
But did this stop me? I'd like to say yes. I'd like to say a lot of things. But as will probably come as a surprise to NONE of you (unless you are a stranger who stumbled upon this blog)--I stayed.
He gave me a tour of the apartment and I couldn't help but feel that the place was a little...how should I put this? Oh right. GIRLY. Not in like a metrosexual single guy way but in like a.....a girl definitely probably lives here.
Maybe it was the Sophie Kinsella novels in the bookshelf. Maybe it was the copy of "Now And Then" on the DVD shelf. Maybe it was the embroidered pillow on the couch that said something like "Friends are flowers in the garden of life". I received confirmation that the pillow was indeed lovingly embroidered by the ex. I could tell I would hate this girl.
Despite all of these horrible signs, I ended up hooking up with my date as we watched "Evil Dead". Don't you dare judge me! I am in a really weird place in my life right now and he was REALLY cute! Of course, all the while I can't stop looking over at the giant portrait. It's like she's staring at me! I half expected her eyes to start glowing....oh, who am I kidding? I TOTALLY expected it! Anyway, mid-hookup I had to get up and pee because I am extremely smooth and not awkward in the least.
I step into his bathroom. I KNOW I'm going to snoop. Of course it's wrong, of course I shouldn't, of COURSE I'll find things I don't want to see. But like Alice in Wonderland I was "curious and curiouser" and I had to scratch my itch.
The medicine cabinet reveals that he is on Lexapro. Hey, ain't no shame in getting help from an anti-depressant. But....it did make me think perhaps he had a little more baggage than I wanted to deal with right now.
I'm not really sure what then compelled me to pull the shower curtain aside. I really, truly wish this was the part in the story where I revealed his ex-fiancee to be behind the curtain, hiding in the tub. When I make this into a movie or a one-act play, that IS what will happen. I half expected her to be there myself. She wasn't. But a couple of Herbal Essences bottles and a pink razor were!
This was all the evidence I needed. Either this guy was keeping his apartment creepily preserved like Miss Havisham in her wedding dress, awaiting his fiancee's return.....or she still lived there.
I stormed into the living room filled with high-pitched accusations when I noticed he wasn't there. I stepped into the bedroom to find him NAKED on his bed. He totally pulled the "Naked Man" on me!!! If you watch "How I Met Your Mother", you get that. If you don't...you are a loser and should really fix that. I now had to confront a NAKED man about his shady, lying ways. It was very "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" and I was simultaneously laughing, crying and yelling all at the same time. The tears were, I assure you tears of laughter.
He insisted that the ex-fiancee didn't live there- she was in Atlanta at school!
"And where does she live when she's not at school?" I asked.
He got sheepish. He sold me a whole lot of garbage about how she visits there when she's not at school...blah blah blah....the wedding is on hold....blah blah blah....they're not really still engaged.
"Did she give back the ring?" I asked.
Silence.
I gathered my things to go. He put his hands on my shoulders to stop me, insisting that he can see other people.
"That's fine." I said. "But you're not going to see THIS person." This is one of the few times in my life that I've said something that I actually feel is worthy of being a line from a movie. I hope to get to use that line again someday. I'm sure, given my tormented romantic history, that I will.
He then starts to cry. Sloppy, sloppy tears. I am so uncomfortable that all I want to do is get out of there. He tells me that it's been really hard with the long distance from his "ex", that he's not sure they belong together, that he's not sure she's the one. I tell him he seems like a nice person but he should really get his sh*t together. And then I leave him, naked and crying.
Seriously. I don't think I'm going to date again. I'm going to take this as a really big sign.
At least I know how to scare people away now though! Next time I'm trying to get rid of some dude, I'm going to invite him over to my place and hang up some terrifyingly giant portrait of one of my exes. So I guess it wasn't a COMPLETE loss.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I Hate Men
The title may seem blunt, yes, but honestly....I was listening to "Kiss Me Kate". Yes, I'm the uber musical theater nerd and yes....that song speaks to me at this particular time in my quarterlife.
So, I went out on a date last week. This is a rare enough occasion that I would feel the need to blog about it anyway...but given the way things ended up with this gentleman (sarcasm intentional) I definitely would deem the entire fiasco as blogworthy.
I met him at the candy store....He turned around at smiled at me. You get the picture?
Okay, that's not at all true. But "Leader Of The Pack" remains an amazing song. In actuality, I met him on the subway. I know what you're thinking......"that's SHADY." Well, screw you. I think it's kind of romantic. It's a freaking New York fairytale and those NEVER happen to me. And it may have ended up a fractured fairy tale but still: I met someone attractive on the subway. I am therefore awesome.
Also, it was the N train which is probably the least shady subway line. It's clean, and it's often filled with very attractive people like myself. We started talking because a) the N train often likes to stop for long periods of time between stations and b) He was reading a book that I love. I will refrain from mentioning its title, because it actually is a book that brings back a whole lot of memories for me about an earlier failed romance and therefore I should probably have taken that as a sign. But instead, I bit the bullet and struck up a conversation with this charming stranger about the book which was making him laugh uproariously, which was the same effect it had over me. We talked about the book, I detected a slight drawl which led to questions about his origins, we had a cute and flirty convo and then he gave me his business card before he got off the train. I in turn, gave him my information because I am not a real adult and don't have a business card.
He emailed me about 45 minutes after I got home, which of course set off the "DESPERATE!" alarm in my head. But I ignored this, because I was trying to be optimistic for once in in my life. He was interested in hanging out over the weekend- I told him I'd be in Fire Island. The only night I was really free was the following evening. We made plans to meet up in Astoria. He let me choose the place, as he "didn't eat out very often". Yeah, yeah, my dirty mind went there too.
I chose a place I had been to before and really liked, although it's a little on the expensive side. Actually, I had been there on a date and because I have no tact in the slightest, I texted the person I went on the date with for the address of the restaurant. I mean, c'mon Chelsea, isn't that what Google is for? I'm awesome.
So we go on the date. And it's nice. I don't feel HUGE amounts of chemistry but he's nice and flirty and polite in that Southern way. He's a freelance graphic designer which I find refreshing because it's not related to theater. His favorite movies are a little generic (I'm sorry, I love "Pulp Fiction" but it's EVERYONE'S favorite movie) and his taste in music kind of horrifies me (Phish? Really?) but he's cute so I forgive these things. I can't help but feel that he doesn't talk a whole lot about himself. Every question I ask him he seems to deflect back to me. I do manage to learn that he doesn't drink (Ironic, since his name is the name of a very famous whiskey) because his dad was an alcoholic, he has a younger sister and he's been in New York for three years. I ask about his apartment. He says he's been in the same 1 bedroom since he got here.
"You've never needed roommates?" I ask, thinking "This guy must do pretty well for himself."
"Well uh....actually.....I lived with someone until about six months ago."
He doesn't seem to want to talk about his ex-live in girlfriend but I decide to pry because I am nosy. He tells me that they dated for five years and that they were actually engaged for a year. She now lives back in Atlanta.
I admit that the "I was engaged until six months ago" thing probably should have made me decide then and there to NOT be Shaquille O'Neal and NOT grab that rebound. But as I stated before, I am dumb. So after a nice walk home and some nice kissing, I decided I would see the feller again.
We go out two nights later (I actually go to Fire Island a day LATER for him.) We see "Drag Me To Hell" which I'd already seen. He likes the movie and laughs in the right parts, leading me to believe that we are perhaps compatible. Post-movie, we talk about Sam Raimi and launch into a comparison between DMTH and Evil Dead. I say it makes me want to watch Evil Dead again. He says he owns it. I go back to his place.
And here's where things began their steady decline. For as soon as we walk into his apartment, we are greeted with a giant Yearbook style portrait of a young girl holding a rose. Remember those lame graduation pictures where you wear some lame blue drape and hold a rose over your shoulder? There were many sizes you could order of that picture, including a HUGE portrait. I know because my parents ordered that size and I refused to allow them to hang it up because I found it unbelievably creepy. It made me feel like I was Laura Palmer and the portrait was a loving tribute to my life that was cut short far too soon. I was a morbid teenager.
Nonetheless, this was the portrait that stared me in the face as I walked into the apartment. The girl was brunette (like my date) and had insanely white teeth (also like my date.) I think this is what led me to ask the next fatal question. "Aww...is that your little sister?"
Mind you, as soon as I uttered this, I DEEPLY regretted it. I already knew the answer. Of course it wasn't his sister. It was his ex. There was a huge, HIGH SCHOOL portrait of his ex staring at me. He confirmed my fears and there was a really awkward pause. Until I decided to dig my grave a little deeper. I ask how old the ex is. She's 23. He's 32. That's totally fine, and trust me, as a girl who tends to go for older guys I have NO judgements regarding age difference. But one thing plagued me..
"And you've been going out for...five years?" They had indeed. Which would have made her EIGHTEEN when they started dating. He confirmed that they started dating the summer after she graduated. WHICH EXPLAINS THE FREAKING PICTURE. She probably gave it to him when they first started going out. And then hung it in their shared home.
Seriously, men: When asking a girl back to your place for possible nookie do NOT have a giant portrait of your ex waiting to greet her. It tends to kill the mood.
It only gets worse from there, but as this is already a pretty long blog I will post Part 2 sometime soon. If anyone even reads this.
So, I went out on a date last week. This is a rare enough occasion that I would feel the need to blog about it anyway...but given the way things ended up with this gentleman (sarcasm intentional) I definitely would deem the entire fiasco as blogworthy.
I met him at the candy store....He turned around at smiled at me. You get the picture?
Okay, that's not at all true. But "Leader Of The Pack" remains an amazing song. In actuality, I met him on the subway. I know what you're thinking......"that's SHADY." Well, screw you. I think it's kind of romantic. It's a freaking New York fairytale and those NEVER happen to me. And it may have ended up a fractured fairy tale but still: I met someone attractive on the subway. I am therefore awesome.
Also, it was the N train which is probably the least shady subway line. It's clean, and it's often filled with very attractive people like myself. We started talking because a) the N train often likes to stop for long periods of time between stations and b) He was reading a book that I love. I will refrain from mentioning its title, because it actually is a book that brings back a whole lot of memories for me about an earlier failed romance and therefore I should probably have taken that as a sign. But instead, I bit the bullet and struck up a conversation with this charming stranger about the book which was making him laugh uproariously, which was the same effect it had over me. We talked about the book, I detected a slight drawl which led to questions about his origins, we had a cute and flirty convo and then he gave me his business card before he got off the train. I in turn, gave him my information because I am not a real adult and don't have a business card.
He emailed me about 45 minutes after I got home, which of course set off the "DESPERATE!" alarm in my head. But I ignored this, because I was trying to be optimistic for once in in my life. He was interested in hanging out over the weekend- I told him I'd be in Fire Island. The only night I was really free was the following evening. We made plans to meet up in Astoria. He let me choose the place, as he "didn't eat out very often". Yeah, yeah, my dirty mind went there too.
I chose a place I had been to before and really liked, although it's a little on the expensive side. Actually, I had been there on a date and because I have no tact in the slightest, I texted the person I went on the date with for the address of the restaurant. I mean, c'mon Chelsea, isn't that what Google is for? I'm awesome.
So we go on the date. And it's nice. I don't feel HUGE amounts of chemistry but he's nice and flirty and polite in that Southern way. He's a freelance graphic designer which I find refreshing because it's not related to theater. His favorite movies are a little generic (I'm sorry, I love "Pulp Fiction" but it's EVERYONE'S favorite movie) and his taste in music kind of horrifies me (Phish? Really?) but he's cute so I forgive these things. I can't help but feel that he doesn't talk a whole lot about himself. Every question I ask him he seems to deflect back to me. I do manage to learn that he doesn't drink (Ironic, since his name is the name of a very famous whiskey) because his dad was an alcoholic, he has a younger sister and he's been in New York for three years. I ask about his apartment. He says he's been in the same 1 bedroom since he got here.
"You've never needed roommates?" I ask, thinking "This guy must do pretty well for himself."
"Well uh....actually.....I lived with someone until about six months ago."
He doesn't seem to want to talk about his ex-live in girlfriend but I decide to pry because I am nosy. He tells me that they dated for five years and that they were actually engaged for a year. She now lives back in Atlanta.
I admit that the "I was engaged until six months ago" thing probably should have made me decide then and there to NOT be Shaquille O'Neal and NOT grab that rebound. But as I stated before, I am dumb. So after a nice walk home and some nice kissing, I decided I would see the feller again.
We go out two nights later (I actually go to Fire Island a day LATER for him.) We see "Drag Me To Hell" which I'd already seen. He likes the movie and laughs in the right parts, leading me to believe that we are perhaps compatible. Post-movie, we talk about Sam Raimi and launch into a comparison between DMTH and Evil Dead. I say it makes me want to watch Evil Dead again. He says he owns it. I go back to his place.
And here's where things began their steady decline. For as soon as we walk into his apartment, we are greeted with a giant Yearbook style portrait of a young girl holding a rose. Remember those lame graduation pictures where you wear some lame blue drape and hold a rose over your shoulder? There were many sizes you could order of that picture, including a HUGE portrait. I know because my parents ordered that size and I refused to allow them to hang it up because I found it unbelievably creepy. It made me feel like I was Laura Palmer and the portrait was a loving tribute to my life that was cut short far too soon. I was a morbid teenager.
Nonetheless, this was the portrait that stared me in the face as I walked into the apartment. The girl was brunette (like my date) and had insanely white teeth (also like my date.) I think this is what led me to ask the next fatal question. "Aww...is that your little sister?"
Mind you, as soon as I uttered this, I DEEPLY regretted it. I already knew the answer. Of course it wasn't his sister. It was his ex. There was a huge, HIGH SCHOOL portrait of his ex staring at me. He confirmed my fears and there was a really awkward pause. Until I decided to dig my grave a little deeper. I ask how old the ex is. She's 23. He's 32. That's totally fine, and trust me, as a girl who tends to go for older guys I have NO judgements regarding age difference. But one thing plagued me..
"And you've been going out for...five years?" They had indeed. Which would have made her EIGHTEEN when they started dating. He confirmed that they started dating the summer after she graduated. WHICH EXPLAINS THE FREAKING PICTURE. She probably gave it to him when they first started going out. And then hung it in their shared home.
Seriously, men: When asking a girl back to your place for possible nookie do NOT have a giant portrait of your ex waiting to greet her. It tends to kill the mood.
It only gets worse from there, but as this is already a pretty long blog I will post Part 2 sometime soon. If anyone even reads this.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Who am I anyway? Am I my resume?
So it's been two years since I wrote in this blog. Like many things in my life, I approached starting a blog with a whole lot of passion, vim and verve. And then proceeded to write a single entry and abandon it. But I'm back, blogosphere! And I'll never leave you again. Until something else catches my wandering ADHD eye. Sidenote: The word blogosphere kind of makes my skin crawl.
Considering the fact that my last blog entry was about a year and a half ago, I am a little disheartened to see that not all that much has changed with me. Oh, certainly the drama of my personal life took various twists and turns but in terms of the big questions...well, I remain clueless. I still have no idea what to do with my life. I still work in customer service (albeit at a different job). I take comfort in the fact that most of my friends are doing the quarterlife crisis thing as well right now. Just last night I was talking with a friend about how much fun we're having in our mid-20's. And I guess it's true. I just wish that I could get my professional life at least a LITTLE bit sorted out. I think if I did that, perhaps the chaotic nature of my personal life might adapt out of necessity.
College is supposed to open all of these doors for you and help you figure out what you want to do with your life. At least, that's what I always thought it was supposed to do. Now it seems like people go to grad school for that. But I refuse to go into debt to hand over a whole bunch of money to an institution that will probably provide me with more questions than answers.
If only I had spent my life thus far gaining some kind of marketable skill, and not memorizing Freddy Krueger's snazzy one-liners and learning the lyrics to every 80's one-hit wonder known to man. If only, THESE were the kind of special skills that employers cared about.
I think I need to do some soul-searching. But who has time for that? I've got bills to pay and a whole Netflix cue of movies waiting for me.
Considering the fact that my last blog entry was about a year and a half ago, I am a little disheartened to see that not all that much has changed with me. Oh, certainly the drama of my personal life took various twists and turns but in terms of the big questions...well, I remain clueless. I still have no idea what to do with my life. I still work in customer service (albeit at a different job). I take comfort in the fact that most of my friends are doing the quarterlife crisis thing as well right now. Just last night I was talking with a friend about how much fun we're having in our mid-20's. And I guess it's true. I just wish that I could get my professional life at least a LITTLE bit sorted out. I think if I did that, perhaps the chaotic nature of my personal life might adapt out of necessity.
College is supposed to open all of these doors for you and help you figure out what you want to do with your life. At least, that's what I always thought it was supposed to do. Now it seems like people go to grad school for that. But I refuse to go into debt to hand over a whole bunch of money to an institution that will probably provide me with more questions than answers.
If only I had spent my life thus far gaining some kind of marketable skill, and not memorizing Freddy Krueger's snazzy one-liners and learning the lyrics to every 80's one-hit wonder known to man. If only, THESE were the kind of special skills that employers cared about.
I think I need to do some soul-searching. But who has time for that? I've got bills to pay and a whole Netflix cue of movies waiting for me.
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