Oh hell, January, where have you gone? You are utterly one of my least favorite months, but you're a slippery little bugger this year. Warm, and then super freezing--bizarre days in which I saw lightning strike the spike of the Empire State Building, and got trapped in Hoboken because of frozen trains, respectively--busy, and then completely, deliciously lackadaisical. If you weren't a capricorn, January, I'd swear you were a gemini comme moi.

My resolution(s) is a gradual builder, I've decided. A crescendo, if you will. The opposite of a peter-out. 2008's been good so far, actually. Got my first book to edit (practice edit, mind you--my editor boss has the final say-so), have a non-date on Saturday with my semi-friend/old editor whom I haven't seen since freshman year of college (I honestly have no idea what's going on), AND I am officially a writer.

No, I wasn't published (don't be fooled), I was rejected! By MCSWEENEYS!!! It was thrilling, in a way.

And I can't not mention it: Heath Ledger! Utterly shocking. Totally thought it was a bad rumor. Refused to believe it until it was confirmed in some furious texting betwixt myself and mini-sister. But what's with the implication of Mary-Kate? Odd.

And the death of another man who has nothing to do with HL other than my distant, slightly disturbing crushes on them both: Bobby Fischer. I instantly went out and rented 'Searching for Bobby Fischer.' Always wanted to play chess in Washington Sq. Park.

It's been quite a month.

There's a security guard in the lobby at work, and he's foreign, maybe Italian. Every morning, instead of "Good morning," he says, "Mornings," to everyone that passes.

Mornings.

Short week made shorter by that freakishly cold Thursday. I couldn't believe my luck.

My train to Hoboken was not only late, it was overcrowded because trains to Penn Station were all wonky and frozen. And THEN, when we finally got to Hoboken, they were making announcements that the PATH system was suspended (apparently there was a fire--immediately made me picture a group of hobos huddled around some kettle-drum fire deep in the bowels of the PATH), and like that, !, the line for the ferry was out the station door. Literally. Hundreds of people long. I waited an hour and finally got a hold of my boss, who was just like, "Pff, go home," and I was like, "OKAY!" and so I hopped on a Gladstone train, got Dunkin' Donuts with my sister, and spent the afternoon returning an apron to William Sonoma, and writing. It was gorgeous.

Iowa caucaussesses have me all turned round. No idea who I would vote for. Hillary is like the intimidating aunt that's always pressing you about your personal life. Obama is like the class president in college who's so into it, you kind of resent him. Edwards is okay, but too shiny. (The hours of reading that've gone into this analysis really show, don't they?) Completely glad I live in NJ and don't have to think about it for another 11 months.

Tomorrow the miniature sister and I are seeing 'Juno' for the second time, first together. We've already spent many an afternoon standing around in the kitchen going, "WHOA dream big," and "Yeahhhh, I think I'm gonna nip it in the bud, because you know, I've heard pregnancy can lead to infants." And I totally bought Michael Cera and Ellen Page's version of "Anyone Else But You" off iTunes and listen to it whenever the mood strikes, which is utterly often.

I kind of completely want to be Juno's best friend.

Okay. Let's do this.

Hello, 2008!

You are brand spanking new--I haven't even eaten lunch yet!--and I've decided you are mine. You are my year. 2007 was full of endings and beginnings. Too many important milestones, not enough raw fun/full-throated decision-making on my part, independent of society's/my parents' expectations, that is. 2008, it's just you and me. We shall sculpt my tiny, pristine Zen desk calendar (gift from the Yangs) into a chef d'oeuvre of events and well-rounded seasons. There will be dates! And adventures! And weekend mini-breaks! And move-in dates! And a half-marathon in May, and my 23rd birthday in June (choke, cough, sputter), and friends, friends, friends out the wazoo. 2008, together, we will make you an extravaganza.

And just like that, I'm being booted off the computer so that my father can transfer money or some such. Utterly ironic, but not at all indicative, whatsoever, of 2008, my dahling, my pumpernickel.

Woke up this morning and thought it was Monday. After my heart rate returned to normal, I looked outside and it was snowing. Instantly thought of Jack Frost and the Winter Lady from The Selfish Giant, skipping around and leaving trails of ice in their wake. God, I loved that movie.

Speaking of, Dad and I saw 'Into the Wild' last night, and then we sat around brooding and long-faced and heaving great sighs every few minutes. Might be the most depressing movie I've ever seen, but chock full of a gorgeous Sam Leonard doppelgänger and rushing rivers and wild horses, and gave me that utterly rare feeling of loving the country I live in. Mostly I just wish I were in England.

This is what I wrote while I ate my sammich:

ate soup for lunch that was murderously hot, but also way good and utterly appropriate for this windy day. half the office went home early because it was too cold to work. (by half i mean 2.) my white bean/tomato soup was the perfect antidote, but it came in a styrofoam cup. using styrofoam always makes me feeling like a rotten citizen of the earth.
also, they turned on my radiator, which helps unimaginably much. it's clanging happily behind my desk and i'm scribbling in my notebook because i'm too scared to blogger at work. last month they cracked down on people who view over four hours of porn/day at work. (<4 is okay.) anyway, blogger is really the gateway to internet porn, so instead i catch up on my online reading. lucky for me, people don't generally disapprove of you reading book blogs or mcsweeney's or something when you work at a publishing co. can totally pull the 'reasearch' card on that one.
yesterday i came in early because i had huge amounts of emails to send and while waiting for the train at murray hill, i witnessed a nj transit bus get hit by the rr barricade. lots of clanging bells and prob. one hell of a scared driver until she backed up and the wooden arm fell like a take-marker on a movie set.

I've started my Christmas list. Have you?

Yawwwwn, good morning.

Dad and I just fixed ourselves a full English breakfast: eggs, toast, sausage, broiled tomatoes, no mushrooms, but who really eats them for b-fast anyway?

I read I Capture the Castle this week, and pretty much since page one I've had a hankering for boiled eggs and biscuits and beans and toast. Oh--we forgot the beans. Next time, next time.

This is what I want for Christmas.

Have a lovely Sunday, friends. I'm off to do yoga in my living room.

Would you believe that I actually read old Xanga entries to get myself geared up to write this thing? Pathetic. I am so out of shape.

Bought a new hair dryer this week (then promptly left it on the counter and walked away with my receipt while the poor sales clerk squeaked, "Miss! Miss, wait!") and it has an attachable diffuser (frightening apparatus--looks like a combination back massager/potato masher) and used it for the first time this morning. My hair is HUGE. Maeby Fünke up in here. Startling, but satisfying.

Speaking of, I've been gorging myself on Arrested Development this past week. I find it comforting to lose myself in the idiocy (read: fabulousness) of the Bluths when my own family is driving me utterly nutters. (I've also read a sociologist's study that people who watch upwards of 3 hrs. of TV/day think they have more friends than they actually do. Whatev.) The other night at dinner, Colleen started talking about Helen, and Kevin was all, "Yeah, she's blah blah blah," and I had no idea who they were talking about until finally (via context clues) I realized they were talking about Ruth, a woman whom I work with. And yet they knew exactly what they were talking about. It's like being around identical twins who speak some made-up language to each other. I tell ya.

In other news, I found my 5th grade journal, which I had to update weekly for writing credit (precursor to a blogggg?). It goes like this:

Dear Mr. DeLauro,

I'm very excited about chess club this afternoon. It's too bad that we had a day off on juggling club day. On Sunday I went roller-blading at a roller rink. It was so fun. The rink is pretty big. My sister went to a birthday party there, so my dad took me. When my father was a kid his grandparents owned a roller rink a cross the street from his house, so he's really, really good. I'm pretty good on roller blades.

Liz

They all end abruptly at the end of the page. "Did I tell you what I got for Christmas? [Uhp, guess you'll have to wait 'til next week.] Liz." Horrendous, bubbly cursive. Illustrations in the margins. I should really bring it to the next editorial meeting as a submission.

Had you given up on me, reader?

I know, it's been so long. November already. The clock tower outside my window lights up before I leave work. Monday is my two month anniversary there--one third of the way to vacation days.

In the meantime, I've been yoga-ing and reading (just finished The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which was good, but the whole time I couldn't stop thinking, Middlesex does this too, only better, and with a little optimism.) and tutoring (Julia is such a good little reader; she points out the intricacies of the English language as we go: "A [read: uh] or a [read: aaay], you can say it either way!" I remember having that same hang-up in first grade.) and visiting Philadelphia and driving to Chester to admire the foliage. I've been eating pumpkin in utterly every variety--last night I had pumpkin tempura. It looked like a deep-fried slice of cantaloupe and tasted like a deep-fried slice of sweet potato.

And, in true fall spirit, I got my flu shot yesterday, and now it feels like somebody gave me a dead arm. There goes my pitching career.