As per my conversation with the Imdb geek (Internet Movie Database,
for the non-geeks in the room), please note that I actually did "meet"
Mr. Crunch guy AFTER his encounter with "Sex and the City" Miranda. (the episode dates '01. I dated in '02)
Now, reflecting on it, is it better to lose a guy to fame or to be a celebrity's rebound?
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Sunday, November 12, 2006
D.C. Heritage Week
I know I know. it is too late to still be up and too early to be up yet, but it seems that the demons of the past have decided to all knock at the same time.
So there I was, 1.5 weeks ago, contemplating the idea of actually working at work, when my email box clicked to announce a message untitled "what about maia's life?"
What about it, in fact? It was a reply to a note left years before to a Smithsonian Museum fellow, back in the day where I lived the unhappy life in Washington D.C. (that exact life I had spent the last 3 years to forget.) As it turned out, my Spanish friend Gilberto was inquiring about my health and whether or not I finally got kicked out of America. As good as it felt to hear from him, it also brought back feelings of war, anthrax, sniper, anti-French protests, death and a fair amount of anxiety. But I just figured the thoughts would vanish again with sunrise.
3 days later, another mail popped from the forgotten D.C life: Josh was on his way to visit the Big Apple and wanted to meet up. Sipping on my decaf last Wednesday, we both happily evoked our attempts to survive in the conservative museum setting, and how we almost got fired for showing up dressed as a fat French Q-Tip and a balding bureaucrat 2 weeks before Halloween. No matter how fun the catch up night had been -his name starts with a "J", after all,- memories of a broken engagement with some NYC actor were brought back to life with it. The D.C Heritage Week had to come to an end. Sure, but who was I to decide?
The next day, I received an invitation for Jesse's housewarming party. Not only Jesse - another Smithsonian fellow- still had my email address, but he was requesting my presence to celebrate his move to New York.
Tonight, after a couple of hours trying to recognize Jesse's features hidden under a wild beard, it finally hit me: the only way to escape D.C. memories was to fully immerse myself into NYC nightlife and create new ones. I was too exhausted to live it, so I would just go home, put on "Sex and the City" and call it a Saturday night.
It is now 3.50am, and I am still trying to grasp what happened. How is it that I just watched an episode I had never seen, terrified at the sight of a hot Crunch gym guy hooking up with Miranda? Half a second, that's all it took. I had kissed that guy too, long before Miranda, talking to him every day for 3 month until he moved out of the city. Washington D.C., that is.
Now, don't expect me to go to bed at normal hours and stop sending journal-like emails after this. You are the guardians of what's left of my sanity.
So there I was, 1.5 weeks ago, contemplating the idea of actually working at work, when my email box clicked to announce a message untitled "what about maia's life?"
What about it, in fact? It was a reply to a note left years before to a Smithsonian Museum fellow, back in the day where I lived the unhappy life in Washington D.C. (that exact life I had spent the last 3 years to forget.) As it turned out, my Spanish friend Gilberto was inquiring about my health and whether or not I finally got kicked out of America. As good as it felt to hear from him, it also brought back feelings of war, anthrax, sniper, anti-French protests, death and a fair amount of anxiety. But I just figured the thoughts would vanish again with sunrise.
3 days later, another mail popped from the forgotten D.C life: Josh was on his way to visit the Big Apple and wanted to meet up. Sipping on my decaf last Wednesday, we both happily evoked our attempts to survive in the conservative museum setting, and how we almost got fired for showing up dressed as a fat French Q-Tip and a balding bureaucrat 2 weeks before Halloween. No matter how fun the catch up night had been -his name starts with a "J", after all,- memories of a broken engagement with some NYC actor were brought back to life with it. The D.C Heritage Week had to come to an end. Sure, but who was I to decide?
The next day, I received an invitation for Jesse's housewarming party. Not only Jesse - another Smithsonian fellow- still had my email address, but he was requesting my presence to celebrate his move to New York.
Tonight, after a couple of hours trying to recognize Jesse's features hidden under a wild beard, it finally hit me: the only way to escape D.C. memories was to fully immerse myself into NYC nightlife and create new ones. I was too exhausted to live it, so I would just go home, put on "Sex and the City" and call it a Saturday night.
It is now 3.50am, and I am still trying to grasp what happened. How is it that I just watched an episode I had never seen, terrified at the sight of a hot Crunch gym guy hooking up with Miranda? Half a second, that's all it took. I had kissed that guy too, long before Miranda, talking to him every day for 3 month until he moved out of the city. Washington D.C., that is.
Now, don't expect me to go to bed at normal hours and stop sending journal-like emails after this. You are the guardians of what's left of my sanity.
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