14.9.16

Hate blog!

I hate...

Flying domestically.  You all can go to hell!
Weddings further than an hour away.  You all can go to hell too!
That canadian goose that barked at me last night.
That mean beezie that argues with anything anyone else says in my art documentation class when there is no need to argue.
The owners of the dog nearby who never ever stops barking.
The sun.
The MBTA drivers who never open the backdoors on the T or the bus.  I'm so sure.
The sun.
THE STUPID SUN AND ITS BLARING RAYS!
Walnut hill.  This ain't no San Francisco, GTFO.
5+ street intersections when on a bicycle.

17.8.16

Although it is still hot, the air smells nice, and there is a breeze in Boston.  I also forgot that I cannot have anything nice as long as there is a cat in my home.  I have to be careful when wearing black once again.  Oh no, what will I do?

Olympic golf is so stupid.


8.8.16

Who the H is even reading my blog?  There are wayyyyy more page views than ever before. Go on with your bad reader selves!
Not ready to go back to Boston yet!  GAHHHH!!!!  I mean, I miss it a whole lot, and New York is FILTHY and hot and dense and tiring, but I love my work here!  I am so sad, and I will surely cry like a baby on Friday.  If only NYC decided to sell the Met to the MFA, life would be perfect.  If only.  Why can't that big beautiful museum of love be in Boston?  NYC, you're cool, but I do not want to live on an island, and you're way too crowded in too small a space, and I like to be able to own a car.  Spread out a bit like the other large cities of the world.  And stop being so filthy.  I like wearing light colors.

And put escalators in your subway stations because people do not know how to climb stairs.  I obviously know how to climb stairs.  Let's see, what else can you do to improve?  Oh! I know!  You could do like London does and charge a congestion fee, so that it is actually quicker to take a cab.  Other than that, I kind of love you now, and I apologize for hating on you so hard the last time that I lived here.  Really, I was just a sad, lonely, and insecure girl fresh outta college with a bunch of issues, a breaking heart, and nary an idea of how live, how to just be.  Also, New York, please go ahead and help the Met to take care of its budget issues, so that I can have a full-time job right out of school, and so that all my MuSE friends can get their dream jobs too!

Next time, it's Upper West Side because I can't do Brooklyn or Queens, for I am becoming paranoid in my old age, and when disaster strikes, I would prefer not to have to escape by going from one island to another in order to reach the rest of America!

Still love you the most, Boston, you hilarious and quirky old man you.


25.7.16




Cannot unsee.





13.7.16

Shut the fuck up, Lena Dunham. Goddamn that woman is out of touch. Also, pedo. 

7.7.16

Whoops!  HI!

My summer gig is going oh so well, and I am very lucky.  And happy!  My department is the chillest in all the Met, and even though I love being in school, part of me wishes with all my might that I did not have one more year, so that I could stay and work for ever and ever.  I'll just have to make them love me and never want to be without me, so they're begging me to come back.  Yeah!  Cookies!

I'm not in the mood to write all that much right now.  Heat wave is rough. 

25.6.16

No Bill Cunningham, no! :(  

15.6.16

Help is needed because today when I went to buy wine, there was a woman there that I instantly recognized, and maybe it was the only time (including back when I lived here for not just a summer... YEAH, REMEMBER!?  Not really.  I just needed to type that jokingly in all caps so as to lessen my sounding like an ass, but...) that I saw someone kind of famous in the city and actually got excited.  No, I would never approach anyone ever, and this is because I never approach anyone human ever, especially not the common man.  P. U.

Well, I saw this woman, and I remembered her always being featured in quite a few blurbs + in Vogue in the mid to late nineties and maybe even into the early 2000s.  She was a very tall Asian American woman, and I mean at least 6 feet in height.  She is not known as a model, but an artist.  I don't remember which kind, but it feels right to say that she was a painter and obviously stylish--because this was when models were actually on the covers (yawn, boring old Vogue criticism, even though it has merit), therefore Vogue was okay still.  This woman was around 50 years old at the time, probably 65 at the latest, but let it be known that I am not talented at guessing the age of someone.  I am typing so many different search terms and being given zero results.  If anyone knows who I am talking about, please tell me her name.  It was the only time I got excited in my heart seeing someone famous/kind of famous.  She still looked crazy stylish and beautiful even though it has maybe ten years since I saw a photo of her.  Seriously, she was in that magazine a lot.  That and the New York Times for sure.

I typed all of this out so terribly which is nothing knew.  It's all bad grammar and punctuation and typing like I think which probably isn't flattering.  Let's keep digging.  Is this humbleness over-the-top?  It's impossible to be self-deprecating without sounding like you're full of shit/ironically covering up for actually being terrible at writing.  

13.6.16

I carried some 60 lbs of art books home from the Met, filling two large handle bags as well as my backpack.  My shoulders are in such pain, but I got a great haul!  Thank you employee sale!  Instead of taking the 4/5 down to Union Square, I trekked across Central Park, so that I could take the C to 8th Ave and 14th (the first L stop) in order to be guaranteed a seat.  A bit out of the way, but it was so worth it.  I sound like one of those Los Angeles fools who always talk about which highways they had to take.  No one cares, right?  I think that I might actually do this every day now because I hate standing on the subway, and I will never ever understand those people who choose to stand when there are available seats.  My feet hurt enough from walking everywhere.  Not just in New York, but also in Boston.  You all are crazy.

It is barely 7 pm, and I think that I need to go to bed.  

9.6.16

LOL my roommate is watching some tnt show that stars Major Dad.  

4.6.16

What's that?  I hear blogging is dead kind of.  Mine sure seems like it.  I haven't got much to say these days except I'm running around and getting things done and going back and forth from Boston to New York and yada yada yada I'm really tired today.

Pour one out for Ali.

No, but really.  I "moved" to Brooklyn on Wednesday, and my work does not start until Monday, so I came back home to Boston two days later just to kick it after filling out some paperwork and getting my nasty-looking ID badge. ID pictures are usually terrible, but what is it these days with the head looking so flat and large in the photographs?  And the nice man was all, "here, do you want to see your picture!?"  I was hoping to just get the badge and not really take a look at my photo all summer. It's been done.  Like my license, I've barely looked at the picture.  Insecurities, with your host.  I can't ACTUALLY look like that, can I?

It's so nice only being three and a half hours away from home.  I forgot how intense NYC is, how exhausted I feel at the end of the day when I haven't even done all that much.  And compared to other massive cities I've visited around the world like London, Tokyo, or HCMC, there is this heavy, claustrophobic feeling I've yet to find elsewhere.  In those other enormously populated places, I was easily able to stumble upon more tranquil and calming areas.  I'm sure if I traveled to Shanghai, I might find it comparable to this heaviness of NYC.  I suppose Manila kind of had it, but I was barely there for 48 hours.  Don't get me wrong, New York is great, and I love love love all that there is to do, but man, unless I am miraculously bringing in seven figures one day, I can't imagine living there for more than a few years.  I have this paranoia that no one can live to a very old age in New York because even when I sit on the grass, deep in Central Park, I start to imagine how rotten the soil is, like it is a sponge that soaks up all the pollutants.  Does that sound high?  C'mon think about it!  Kind of like how on the golf course back in the day, when a Canadian Goose hatched a bunch of goslings, they always looked mutant, almost neon green in color which I figured was a result of all the chemicals sprayed onto the grounds which also most likely trickled into the ponds and streams.  Is it ridiculous to think that humans on the island of Manhattan might be affected?  Yeah yeah, I know this all sounds silly, but I think about it occasionally.  And I mean, I'm probably wrong. I haven't checked the New York obits, but I'm sure fools live until 90 there too.

Ha, I was actually only in New York for two days.  No, but I found that not much had changed since I lived there way back when.  Except for that ridiculous 432 Park Ave building.  You could not pay me to ever live in that penthouse.  That thing is going to fall right over.  I don't even care what the architect says.