Your Unemployed Daughter

photo credit: bsteve76

My mom has always said that on the first day of a new year you should do all of the things you hope to do throughout the year. I mean, not in a crazy-high expectations sort of way, like finishing your entire novel in one day, but if you hope to write a book during the year, at least spend time on that first day writing a bit, and ditto with all of the other aspirations you have: get some exercise, love yourself more, cook a nice meal, whatever.

But if the first day of the new year is dedicated to those sorts of positive-future-bringing activities, what of the last day of the old year? I would guess, maybe, that it’s for doing all the bad shit we still want to do in 2009. Getting it out of our systems, if you will.

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photo credit: timmyjimi

Let it be said that my focus is minimal today. I am a little hungover. I successfully made it to the office via the power of cab transport, and I’m sitting and staring at the computer and attempting to compile a status update. There is little to update, however. The status is that I am a little hungover.

Let me shake off the wounds of last night, however, and tell you something interesting about some other ill-fated person’s wounds. Read the rest of this entry »

photo credit: Camila Braga

I recently got off the phone with a good friend who mentioned that her plans for starting out 2010 in as beneficial a position as possible included a bikini wax. You know, so things are “less of a jungle.” (Her words, not mine.)

Now, while I shall refrain from divulging any particular aspects of YUD’s grooming regimen for fear of scaring off my last reader, I will say that a new year is a lovely time to—um—start fresh. And whether that means giving up the ghost on certain no-longer viable plans or bad behaviors, or opening yourself up to new possibilities you might never have thought of, or just being positive about shit for once, it’s a good thing.

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photo credit: Sailor Coruscant

It is a strange sensation to be completely alone on the 15th floor of a midtown office building. When I arrived circa 10:30, the lights in the kitchen were still off. The toilets had not been used since their last cleaning. And it’s cold, so cold I’m wearing my coat, even though the heat is ostensibly on. There’s not even a Bert to keep me company.

Oh my God, as I wrote that, a person turned the corner and looked at me! I have never seen him before, but since I’m freelancing and haven’t been here for a few weeks, nor have I ever met everyone on this floor, that means little.

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photo credit: tm22

It’s sunny and beautiful in New York today. I just finished my karate-esque ass-kicking class of death, and maybe it’s the endorphins or the fact that I didn’t actually die or just that it feels good to be back and doing double roundhouses, but whoo-eee-boy, I am ready to enjoy the rest of 2009.

Seeing as how we only have 5 days left (and I have to substitute managing edit for someone on 3 of them), we better get started.

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photo credit: Tara Spalty

Boxing Day! For many, this is the Day After Christmas, aka the Day for Poor People to Give THEIR Gifts, or the Day to Return Crap You Never Wanted But Got Anyway, or the Day for Churches to Take Your Money, or the Day to Be Nice to People Even if They Drive You Completely Bonkers.

For me, it’s the Day that I Return to NYC. I have some mixed feelings about the whole thing. First of all, being the 30-something-year-old single daughter in an otherwise coupled-off family can screw with you a little. And/or make you revert to certain childish or insecure behaviors that you thought you licked long ago. And then there’s simply going from your adult, independent, all-about-you life to living with your parents again (and they like to talk!) for five or six days straight. There’s an adjustment there.

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photo credit: ragingtornado

Christmas at the D-house. We’re full of traditions here, including partying it up on Christmas Eve, ripping through all the presents under the tree (taking turns on delivery based on whomever is wearing the Santa hat), drinking until we can’t stand (at least, me, but that was I think due to my dad’s Manhattan, with which I started the night), and generally rabble-rousing and having fun.

We used to have the tradition of always having oyster stew on Christmas Eve, but that’s gone by the by.

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photo credit: cory.cousins

The police blotter in my parents’ paper is ripe fodder for fiction writers and those inclined to wonder imaginatively, “What happened NEXT?” Also, amateur detectives, like my entire family, especially M., who schooled us all in Clue last night.

Today, entries include the following:

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photo credit: Jeffrey Guterman

Today’s morning: wake up, make bed, don workout gear, consume coffee, attend spin class with mom, eat, shower. Since then I’ve been holed up in my room trying to get some things done lest next week is a total nightmare. Work, work, work. For an “Unemployed” person, I sure have a lot of work.

But the presents are wrapped, and there is turkey in the oven, and good smells in the house. B&S are here, and there is a general feeling of goodwill and resistance to snap judgments in the air, even if last night I did drink too much wine and made at least one error in judgment, snap or otherwise.

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photo credit: gordontarpley
Today’s Agenda:

8:50 Wake, roll over, swig water from glass beside bed. Check for hangover. I seem good, except for the sore spot on my eyelid where I (stone cold sober) cut it on an opened drawer last night by bending over to retrieve a hair elastic. This house is full of booby traps! Which makes me, I suppose, a booby. Adopt me?

9:15 Swig coffee with purpose. Put on workout clothes. Make bed. Brush teeth. Repeat step 1.

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