March on

Dear random readers: I almost completely neglected you, this entire massively moving, marching, thumping, month. No, I will not neglect you.

Let's see: did I fall out of love? Not entirely, but the future Dr. Mar will be ok.
Did I fall into some kind of unusually more-defined future-ness? Kind of.

Is cross-examining the things that stick out of the back of my consciousness like a bunch of assembled busy bodies telling me "Hi I'm problem Grad School." "And I, I'm Mr. Man of Not Your Dreams but you need to talk to me, tell me what you're gonna do." "Hello I'm the voice of reason and grandmotherliness and everything will be ok." etc, kind of interesting? Sure, it stimulates me on a slow Friday when the over-priced starbucks caffeine runs out and there is not much I'd like to pretend to do while sitting in my little office. Bad girl, yes.

Schizophrenic self-conversations aside, I'm gonna go grab some lunch with a side of sanity.

Later humans. :)

The Wrong Chardonnay

I was at the Greek Kitchen today enjoying a chicken souvlaki dinner, (it's just down the street from my new home,) and decided to try some Greek chardonnay. Big mistake: yet another chardonnay that tastes more like apple juice than wine. Where oh where is the good New Zealand stuff? Mostly in New Zealand, though I've found a few imports....

The chardonnay may be shot, but my job hunt is not. I'm starting work at Columbia on March 10th. I just accepted the job offer - thank God. I plan to march in pretty triumphantly and enjoy my own little office - I'm going to be in charge of the new doctorate of nursing, there appear to be heaps of responsibilities involved to keep me busy, and yay for amazing university benefits and free tuition!

My Boston weekend was intense/awesome/fun, the snow seems to have found its way down here from there, I'm going to walk down the aisle in Olivine (an olive green color that the bridal gods created,) as a bridesmaid in August, I'm trying to use these next few free weeks productively, and really it's all pretty bitchin'. ;)

Happy Vaginal Thursday tomorrow, eat lots of chocolate, a friend of mine is making me brownies, what better way to cope with all the hearts.

Manhattan witchiness

Like clockwork on the 4th I write again. Almost like I planned this...visit. I am living in a "haunted" apartment and I like it. At least this one comes openly smothered with history, murder, love, sex, kick ass vintage furniture - the works. I like it. Bring it on ghosts, I have a bit of spirit of my own. Anyway, the wonderfully loony landlady is dancing to classical music in the kitchen, I moved out of South Brooklyn three days ago and feel beautifully autonomous and happy with my new dwelling, and today I'm starting to feel settled, yay.

Listen to The Pierces if you haven't, I'm loving them, and we're cohabitants of the same witchy Manhattan soup now. That's their whole shtick: witchiness. Same with the women I'm living with now, but they're good "witches" and I'm glad they're on my side. ;)

I'm drinking a stout that was brewed with chocolate.

I'm going to jip you on this post and cut it off right here. I will come back again in February month of love or loneliness or apathy and write again, make it up to you.

Brooklyn mochas and reflections on cities

I'm sitting in a Brooklyn cafe called K-Dog and drinking one of the best mochas I've ever had...it must be the chocolate they use in this mocha, it tastes like they mixed high quality hot chocolate with espresso, mmm.

As I sip this I'm applying to more jobs, getting ready to check out apartments, etc. The internet connection at Totya Rita's (the family friend I'm staying with in Brooklyn,) is pretty on-and-off as I'm pilfering it from some neighbor, and I have begun my exploration of Brooklyn cafes with free wifi. There are none directly in Rita's neighborhood, as it's located in the bowels of Brooklyn, not far from Brighton Beach. What can you find there? Orthodox and Hassidic Jews, Russian food stores, random junk stores, and if you happen to be heading home at 5am (I don't really recommend it, I did that on New Year's,) there might be strange men cat or more like dog-calling at night. I say dog, because when I think of cat-calling I think of harmless Parisian stalkers who might pester and follow but never do a damn thing about it. The men in NYC have much more of a sense of desperation about them, so little girls beware, look local, and walk fast. After that night I started to look up pepper spray vendors, but really it's much better at most other hours, even at 1am it's less creepy.

A little black boy just came up to me and popped his head at my computer screen, he startled me and I pulled my computer to me and recoiled scaring him away too in the process. In the past two days I've noticed that these little clean bohemian cafes seem to be a safe haven for kids in Brooklyn. Earlier this little boy came in and used their phone to call his mom because he didn't know where she was, and yesterday a little girl came into a different cafe on the other side of Prospect Park and sat in a booth doing her homework - she must have been only 8 or 9 years old. Brooklyn is certainly a weird mix of religious, hipster, and dirt poor people from every continent. I never had a chance to take such a close look at it before and see the socioeconomic problems of America so vividly. Capitalism is at it's best and worst in this city. The struggling, the dreaming, the successful, the hopeful and the hopeless. Of course the faces on the trains are typically incredibly tired and sagging - but still people are moving here, always moving.

Ok, I have to be a little more productive now - and I'm seeing my first prospective apartment tonight - it's in the East Village, wish me luck.

On the brink and into Newness

Ok, so Annalise was right - I skipped a month of blogging my heart out, sorry. Been rather preoccupied with heaps of "serious" endeavors. Almost done with grad school apps and I took the psych GRE and aced it, or as much as that is possible with a standardized test - I scored higher than 95% of all the other test-takers. It's good to kick a murderous test's ass, yay.

Now I'm moving to New York. Officially starting tomorrow - well tomorrow morning I'm flying to Miami for a week to celebrate the holidays with my family and get a little sunshine. Go sunshine. And THEN I'm flying to NYC on the 30th, for a New York New Year, mhmm. I'm going to stay in Brooklyn at first with a friend of my grandma's, a little Jewish lady who remembers me as a little kid in Ukraine, she says she wants to be my New York Grandma and make me "soupiki," so yay for that. This way I'll be able to take a bit of time to find a decent place to live and a job.

I figured since I'm totally free for the next 8 months at least, (if I get into one of the grad programs I want, they won't start until September,) I might as well New Yorkify my life. As in culture, art, proximity to friends, something new as I've visited but never lived there before, and a hell of an exciting place to be - plus I love big cities - I was definitely happy living in Paris.

So here I come, my bags are (just about) packed, and I'm ready to dazzle. ;) What does Carrie Bradshaw have that I don't, anyway? A newspaper column? I've got this blog, not that I promise to turn every sexual and men-related morsel of my life into an advice column from now on, but I do promise to be just as, if not more fun.

Happy holidays and a toast: (yes I'm toasting in a blog, so pour yourself something delicious and at least 10% alcoholic,)

Be brave, throw yourself into situations in the middle of the ocean, in the middle of a new city, in the middle of the middle of anything that you don't know - it's exciting, terrifying, and unbelievably good for you.

Wikipedia's etymology of stir crazy:

Stir crazy is a phrase that dates to 1908 according to the Oxford English Dictionary^[1] and the online Etymology Dictionary. Used among inmates in prison, it referred to a prisoner who became mentally unbalanced because of prolonged incarceration. It is based upon the slang stir (1851) to mean prison.

It is now used to refer to anyone that becomes restless from being stuck in one place too long, with a similar meaning to cabin fever.

Riiight. Not that my prison is so bad. And it's voluntary. But still, 'tis true, I am going stir crazy, must escape CONfiNemEnt....

Marianna is blogging more often, a definite symptom of too little action in LIfe. Life, that funny thing where action is goooood. My excitement consists of helping my little sister with her school projects. Though yes, sister bonding = good. But still, in Colorado, me borededed.

Wish me luck cyber humans.

In The Middle-Of-No-Where With Newlyweds

There's something that reminds me of high school and college and absolute independence/solitude about having my own bedroom. Perhaps because that is exactly what it is. Independence and solitude. The independence bit has perks, after all, my creativity needs a good, painful kick in the rear sometimes. Not to mention the sudden overwhelming need to propel myself into greatness, happiness, something, if only to leave the place with too much space and time and this awkward futon where I have no one to nudge me with his elbow, no tangled arms and legs and odd awakenings, no kisses either, just me and my thoughts.

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Taking out the pseudo-funny blurb on my love life. It's too unfunny and caricaturish--I know I have a tendency to caricature my life, but here I'd like something very true to form instead: imagine an exotic porn star plastered in this space instead. Fill in the blanks, this could be like a choose your own adventure blog blob.
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New beginnings: find job, take psych GRE, finish research writing/analysis, apply to grad school. Show world hot, amazing Marianna self. Talk like cave woman.
Oh and yeah, my folks have newlyweds staying over tonight. The girl's fresh from Ukraine, here to start a brand new life. I think I'll take her out dancing.