For the past couple weeks I haven't been able to picture anything for my future. Ever since leaving LA. Because when I was in LA and San Francisco and Seattle I wasn't too concerned. But now that I'm back in NYC, and havent gone back to my day job, it's time to figure out what to do next. What am I going to do about comedy, work, do I even want to live in NYC anymore? I feel like my life is a slot machine and someone pulled the handle and it's still spinning and I'm waiting to see what it lands on. It was standup, day job, NYC. But now it could be LA, server, stand up. Or SF, writer, broke.

The Secret says to envision what you want and you will get it. And now I'm picturing summer nights in Europe. I can finally see something and it's that. Probably because of the music I'm listening to, but this is what's going to have to happen with my life now. Hot summer nights in somewhere near water too, a city and water. Looks like maybe Italy. I am going to Italy this summer, I've just envisioned it.

So I can't wait for that, that's going to be amazing. It will be even more interesting to see how I'm going to pay for it. I need to find a job soon, because the college gigs are over and the money isn't coming in anymore. I think it would be fun to work in a cute little organic cafe or bakery. Something that pays decent but I love going to because it's all about the atmosphere and I'd play my music and be the "mom" of the whole place and people would come in and be like "what's up mamacita" and I'd smile because I'd be already making the coffee exactly the way they like it. And we'd chat every morning about politics and crazy stories I read in the Times about little countries off the west coast of Africa. And they'd make fun of me for wearing plaid shorts but whatever because I'd finally have a job where I can wear plaid shorts, and the next day Id wear overalls. Bring back Ohio chic.

I dance through that fantasy till I hit a wall called my father. He wouldn't be down with me being a server, or anything other than corporate. He'd use the excuse that I didn't have health insurance but mostly it'd be about prestige. He doesn't want to tell people his daughter is a waitress.

And it isn't about being a waitress, I had a serving job at this Italian restaurant on restaurant row by Times Square a few months back. It was busy, and crowded, and families came in and ordered the all you can eat pasta and the kids threw all the all you can eat pasta on the floor and the parents made corny jokes instead of helping and asked for faster service because they had to catch "Legally Blonde on Broadway" and I wanted to knife my face. So I ran out and never came back.

It's about a community in a way. I want to work at a little cafe that is mom and pop and the customers are regulars and everyone knows everyone like a daytime Cheers.
I spent three years in an office setting and I want something completely different. I dont want to work anywhere that makes me wear things I have to dry clean regularly.

Somethings gotta happen soon. Somewhere between now and Italy. Maybe something that I haven't even thought about yet. I don't know what, but to be honest, this is the most exciting part.

Is it weird that I want to punch  my coworker everytime I hear her sneeze? She sneezes multiple times a day every day. No matter what the time is, no matter what the season is. And it's not a normal sneeze. It's an overdramatic theatrical scream sneeze. It's the kind of scream that would be appropriate if someone picked up a fork from a fruit plate, admired it's shine, and then stabbed it into the small of your back.

And then ends in a "choo"

The sneeze isn't the point, I think the point is i'm irritated. I'm irritated that i still have this job. 2 and a half years as a receptionist is getting to me. It's horrible, mindless work, the kind of work that when you finish you gotta do it all over again. There's no stepping back and admiring what you've done. It never ends. There's always mail, there's always filing. There's no sense of accomplishment. And yeah I have health insurance and it keeps me from sleeping on the streets, and bla bla bla but i gotta go.

Sometimes I feel like if I did something dramatic, like quit my job, it would set the ball rolling for something else. And ok I might not have a plan B, I wouldn't have any health insurance, I definitely don't want another office job, I don't really have that much money saved, and quite frankly, I have no idea how to save or budget, and me quitting would be what some might call "fucking stupid" but if I wasn't HERE every day I'd be SOMEWHERE and then SOMEWHERE could lead to SOMETHING. Who knows? Thats the best part!

I feel stagnant. I kind of see how the inspiration for the movie Groundhogs Day came about. Waking up every day to the same day over and over and over again. and before you know it your life has slipped away and you've done nothing.

For a long time, I have been saying I'm going to write a screenplay. Or a pilot. Or at least a short. But I barely write blogs. I just think that if more was on the line for me to get my ass in gear, maybe I'd get something going. Like it wouldn't be perpetual procrastination if I had a rent check deadline hanging over my head. And maybe if I took that leap of faith, that net will appear.

And if it doesn't, then I suffer a little bit till I get another bs job. What's the worst that can happen? By the way, I cringe at that phrase, I feel like it's taunting God. "Come on God, what are you gonna do, huh? What are you gonna do??.. Pansy" and then cut to me back in Ohio shopping at Kohl's trying to squeeze into a size 18 in the juniors department because Chipotle is less than a 5 minute drive at any point in the city.

Yeah alright so Im going to quit.  It was a new years resolution to quit by march. And im nothing if I dont stick to my resolutions (i say as I light a cigarette and burn my gym clothes).

 

So I'm sitting at Starbucks fully intending on writing, because I've had issues with procrastination lately but not to worry, I got a book about it and will being reading it as soon as I check my email.

So this girl buys a frozen mocha java whatever and halfway to the door drops it, and the frozen mocha java splatters everywhere. and this being New York everyone is sitting tightly packed together, and everyone has laptops. And this being new york, this is how everbody reacts to her humiliating moment....

HEY MY LAPTOP/SHOES/COAT/and/or CELLPHONE!

I feel bad for her. Most of it is all over her, the $5 she spent is now wasted, she's completely embarrassed, and worse, is no longer in possession of a frozen mocha java drink that she no doubt thought about the entire way over here. And she's a teen. So this is probably the worst moment of her life.

Everyone else has stopped to watch The Affected try to recover their belongings. One Affected is shaking his head all the way to the napkin dispenser, there is a chorus of audible sighs from most of them, one woman wants to know how exactly the girl plans to pay for her coats dry cleaning. The girl looks around, walks halfway back to the register, sees everyone in line (all of whom are staring at her), changes her mind, walks back to the mess where the woman is still waiting for a response and the girl just stands there. She has no idea what to do. No one is helping her (who me? I'm documenting), and I'm sure she's about to cry. While kinda hoping she starts crying, she does something even better. She turns around, and runs out.

Awesome. More people should do this. Most of the time I'm on stage I wish I could do this. And she just did. She is my hero.

Plus my laptop was nowhere near it, it's not my mess to clean up, I wasn't in the least affected, so what do I care?

And that's when I realized that i am a horrible person. If the girl and her drink were a natural disaster (maybe a tornado that comes in, fucks everything up, and takes off) and the Affected were the victims of the disaster, then I'm the girl watching it on the news going "Oh that's horrible" right before I flip it to MTV just in time for Made. And fuck it I'm bringing everyone else down with me. NOT ONE PERSON jumped in to help anyone. We're all watching MTV. Maybe next time I could at least give the disaster a napkin.

it's my first night in my new place. my roommate was asleep when i got here, as I shoved the last bit of my stuff into my tiny room. It's half the size of my previous room and I've completely imposed myself on it. it's having trouble containing me. "Who is this girl?" it's thinking "Does she seriously have an ottoman, what does she think this is?"
it's completely dark in my room. No moon dimly lighting the space. No view of the city. Just a thick curtain. I can just barely see the silhouette of the cage that is covering the window, giving the ol' fuck you to possible intruders and consequently, me.
So I'm trying to sleep. With the music off I can hear the lady in the apartment beside me or below me, yap yap yapping about some retail clerk, "so I said to him, he says to me, and I said to him and he says to me" in her thick Queens (I guess) accent. I picture the person she's on the phone with has set the phone on the bedside table and gone about her business, brushing her teeth, washing her face, kneeling by the bed saying a prayer, all the while this lady's awful voice pushing through the receiver. "So he says to me Lady, you're insane!' I just couldn't believe..." So I keep the music on and try to fall asleep. The guitar notes from Summertime crawl up my spine right before Janis's voice bellows in. I'm lying in my new bed, also half the size of my previous one, eyes wide open, looking at the red numbers on my alarm clock, thinking 8 has it all. All the other numbers are just fragments of 8.
It's an adjustment going from a great view in manhattan to 2 floors in the sky in Queens. I have no tv and no internet to keep me company, to let me know the rest of the world is out there and I'm not as secluded as i think I am right now, that there's life beyond that cage.
I look at my stuff at the end of the bed, piled on top of each other, looking at me like "well?"  It's so daunting as having all your stuff piled into your room in disarray, waiting for you to put it in its place. Like obedient school children waiting to be led. I don't know where to start, I just sit and stare back at it. I don't know, furniture. Lets just wait till TV gets here, TV will know what to do.
There's no living room in this apartment and if there were, I wouldn't feel comfortable sitting in it right now. It doesn't exactly feel like my place yet. It's my roommates place and I've just crashed it. I tiptoe around, like a mouse that doesn't want to be noticed. I mean no harm, I just want cheese. I don't want to mess with her toiletries in the bathroom so I'll just keep mine in my room and bring them in as needed. Just like the dorms. I'll have a shower bucket with my shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush etc.
When will I be old enough to afford my own place? I picked a tough career if that's what Im looking for. Comedy isn't exactly instant payoff. Not to mention I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world. But come on, how many more years of roommate living? When can I buy my own plates for my own apartment? When can it be my own mess, my own responsibility to get toilet paper? When can I leave dishes in the sink without feeling guilty?
When will I be tired enough to fall asleep?
The first night's always hard.

I get to work this morning and I hear one of my coworkers go "You're alive!"

"…Did I call in dead again?"

"No there was a shooting after the Halloween parade last night and you'd mentioned you were going to the parade."

"Ohhh…see I knew it! I knew something bad would happen!"

The Greenwich Village Halloween parade happened last night, and as I was shoving through the mix of ghouls and goblins (does anyone dress up as a ghoul or goblin anymore?) As I was shoving through the mix of slutty nurses, slutty policewomen, slutty baseball players, slutty maids, and slutty bees, I was thinking what a breeding ground for crime this place is.

I feel like maybe I'm turning into my father the older I get, because I didn't use to worry about stuff like that. I went to Ohio University where we had one of the biggest Halloween parties in the mid-west, we'd shut the whole main street down and people from all over would come to dress up and get drunk and high, and rape and pillage. Walking down Court Street I was lucky if my ass was the only thing to be grabbed. Bad stuff happens when you take a large amount of people wearing masks and cram them all together on the street, but was I worried about it? Not at all. Not a single fear crossed my ignorant little brain in college. That stuff didn't REALLY happen. At least not to me.

But last night all I could think about as I'm shoving Peter Griffin and a couple of pirates out of my way was, I'm gonna get stabbed, I'm gonna get stabbed, I'm gonna get stabbed. What more perfect a venue for criminal activity than a Halloween parade?

Me: Ahhh Police! Help! Someone stole my purse!

Police: Can you describe what they looked like?

Me: Yes. Fat and Batman.

Police: So a fat Batman stole your purse.

Me: Yes exactly.

Policeman: You know I'm not really a police officer?

So I took some pictures last night, with my brand new camera that I love love love so I'll share a couple here:

Lori Sommer at the Laugh Factory

Duncan J as Flava Flav

Maria Borgio and Peter Griffin

 

This girl's got her super hero stance down pat.

 

Adara Almonte outside the Laugh Factory

I just bought a new camera but it doesn't work. everything works but the lens. the display settings, zoom, all the other mumbo jumbo is fine, you just can't see anything through the display. You can't see the world through it. It will still take the pictures but they all come up black. Hah sounds like some kind of awful Train song.

 

She don't see the difference

Night or day all the same

She only takes black pictures

 

Actually it's better if you picture Tom Waits singing it. In fact, I tried to sing it out loud in his raspy voice… impeccably timed too, because a coworker happened to walk by as I did that. They are either always walking by or I'm always doing something embarrassing. more so than singing like a 57-year-old male smoker.

 

I met Moby the other night. There was a closing party for this bar called Mo' Pitkins where I used to run my show. They closed last week and had a closing party Sunday and Moby was there to perform a couple of songs. So Im talking to Moby and I'm ready to leave so for some reason I say "well I'm outta here, I'm going to go home and decoupage."

I don't know why. I think it's because my friend Katina had mentioned decoupaging earlier in the evening and it just fell out of my mouth. I've never decoupaged, I don't know much about it, and worse, for some reason, Moby was way into it. He's like "decoupaging? Really? That's fascinating so tell me about it" and I'm like "yeah it's really fun" trying to pull whatever I know about it out of my ass "you take these collages of pictures or whatever you want and you seal them with this…. sealant." and he's like asking me all these questions, 'what is the sealant made out of? Do you spray it?' And I'm like "No you paint over it..." And he just looked at me and I'm thinking "Why am I lying to Moby about decoupaging?"

 

Im writing this entry on Word because I'm not allowed on myspace at work as much anymore, because I am ten. Actually they all had an intervention, everyone gathered around my desk in reception and told me I had an internet addiction. I couldn't understand what they were saying so someone went back to their desk and IM'd me saying I had an internet addiction. I don't agree. I think there's a difference between addiction and boredom. What the hell else am I supposed to do here? I thought we had a deal, work. You rob me of my soul, I try to find another online. 

 

I went out on an interesting date last night. I met this guy at a comedy show, I wasn't performing but he got my attention with the very clever "are you here to meet me?" pick up line and so I gave him my number.
That was a little over two weeks ago, and he texted me every few days to get together for drinks but I was always busy so finally I said let's actually make a plan to hang out. So I promised him I'd make this friday (last night) available to meet up with him.
Which I did. for a few hours at least, because let's face it, it's a first date. Nothing like "dinner and a movie" was said so I assumed we'd meet for a couple drinks and that'd be it. If it wentwell we'd make plans to meet again, and if not then thanks for the drinks goodbye. So I scheduled a show for 10pm.
Ok so I meet him at a bar, and he's late, no problem. I ordered a beer and sat and watched the Mets/Yankees game until he got there.
When he showed up he looked really good, he said I looked good, and we hugged, and then he buried his face in my neck... A little inappropriate but I let it go. I gave him a friendly little pat on the back and sat back down.
We talked for 20 minutes or so, conversation is good, we're both rooting for the Mets in a bar full of Yankee fans. Then he gets a phone call, it's his mom. She's in town from Denver this weekend.
"Oh that's nice" I say.
Do you want to meet up with her and her friend?" he says
Is this guy serious? "No." I say
"she's really cool."
"Look if you want to hang out with your mom I totally understand, she's only here for the weekend"
"No come on itll be fun, you'll love her"
Am I really meeting his mother on a first date? Looks like. So I meet his mom, but not before he asks me not to mention this is our first date.
"pretend we're dating" he says
"for what like a month or two?"
"like six or seven."
"are you gay? was this all planned?"
"no no don't be silly, just go along with it"
which i did. so already on this first date, he's aquainted with my neck, I'm aquainted with his mother, i'm lying to his mother, and she's getting aquainted with her future daughter in law.
so we have some drinks at 230 fifth which is a beautiful rooftop bar on 5th ave with an awesome view of the empire state building. after that it's about 10:30 and they all want to go eat, so I tell him I have to cancel my spot that I'm doing downtown and he gets mad at me. Says he can't believe I booked a spot tonight.
"but i'm cancelling it"
"its just very telling of the kind of person you are. And anyway, you have a history of not following through with plans."
"What plans?? You always text me last minute! I'm busy! Plus i figured you could just come with me. And I didn't know we'd be hanging out with your mother!"
Now I'm bickering with this guy like we're 7 years in, he's totally holding a grudge, and I'm somehow the bad guy in all of this.
We go to dinner and while waiting for our table, there is so much tension between us, I was ready to just take off. I wanted to just turn to his mom and say it was nice meeting you but your son's a psycho liar and I want to get the fuck out of here.
But there was some tuna ceviche on the menu calling my name, so whatever what's another hour or two?
Dinner was good, the food was good, the conversation was good. He asked me to come back to his apartment.
"What? No, sorry."
"Come on, I don't want to do anything, I just want to spoon"
"hahahahahah...oh you're serious. no. I don't go back to apartments on a first date"
and then he says this.

"I find that hard to believe."

I looked down to see if my boobs were hanging out, nipples staring him down, maybe giving him the wrong impression, but they were still safely encased in the sweater I had put on.
Now justified, I took the bowl of black beans off his moms plate and dumped it on his crotch.
no i didnt. black beans are delicious
his mom and her friend were sitting right there, the restaurant being just loud enough to mask normal conversation, so i spared him the telling off that he deserved. I just pissedly whispered "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
and he whispered some bullshit about women all being the same...etc etc red flag red flag.
then the check comes. and this is what made me sick the most. his mom and her friend are looking at the check and i'm waiting for him to chime in and take it from them. instead he says
"when you figure out your half, put the rest on this card" and throws the card towards them.
so I get a free dinner, me, the stranger, the girl he's on a first date with. But the woman who raised him, on her own, the woman who cared for him, the woman who flew out from Denver to see him, she has to count through her cash to pay for her meal.

His mom gave me a look that said "How have you spent 7 months with this guy?"

I gave her a look that said, "I really like ceviche."

well i'm off to Egypt today. I really should stop waiting till the last minute to pack because as I pack things, it reminds me about more things and then more and more and then i forget them, and then re-remember after I've already gone to the store. I should really think about making lists or something. can't rely on my mind it's absent a lot.
A girl at work gave me a plug converter thingy because the outlets there aren't square tipped like they are here, you need circular ones and so she gave me this little thing to attach to my plugs to convert it.
Her: Here you go!
Me: Omg thanks so much, saves me a ton of trouble going out and getting one myself.
Her: No problem!
Me: Haha watch me lose it.
Her: No please don't lose it.
Me: Hah I'm totally kidding, I won't.

I lost it.

So I'm off to a radio shack or something to look for headphones and a plug converter thingy which im sure the dudes at radio shack won't be condescending about at all.
Them: A plug converter thingy?
Me: Look, fuck off.

I'm lucky enough to have two parents who help me remember everything I need. My dad calls and tells me, "don't forget your passport, make sure to make copies of your passport in case god forbid you lose it, give someone you trust here a copy of your passport. make sure you leave 4 hours before your flight. give yourself plenty of time to get there. Tell the driver you're going to Egypt Air, I believe that's terminal 4 at JFK. Order a sandwich so that you're not hungry on the flight and waiting for those meals. A ham and swiss on whole wheat will be filling but not too heavy."
And my mom who is already in Egypt calls me at a $1.99 per minute "Maria, could you pick me up a book of word searches? Not crosswords, but word searches, I hate crosswords. And don't forget to pack cereal, they don't have Lucky Charms here. Ok? So word searches. Don't forget. I'll see you when you get here."
Dad: Maria they don't have coffee there. I mean they have coffee but it's really thick turkish type coffee and it's no good. Bring your own instant coffee. They have tea though so you're good there. Oh and don't forget to buy diarrhea medicine, you're going to need it. I know you know not to drink the water, but chances are you'll still need it.

Mom at $1.99 per minute: The flight is pretty comfortable, I had three seats to myself, but who knows what your situation will be. They have movies, and the meals are good. You'll have your choice of chicken or steak, I had the chicken and really liked it, but I didn't like the biscuits (phone cuts out for 5 seconds) they were REALLY cold and I just couldn't eat them, I think they were frozen...

God love em, but I have a lot of stuff to take care of still and I'm sitting on myspace writing this instead. I just pray my ipod holds out as long as humanly possible. Alright, I'll keep you guys posted when I find a wifi cafe in Cairo.

Ok so my friend at work was showing me some really amazing shots he took with his camera. And I was like "wow what kind of camera do you have? those shots are incredible!" he told me, and it is the same camera i have. And I'm like "wait a minute. if i took that same picture of that same scene it would NEVER come out looking like that, how come yours is so great?"

at this point he gets into all this technical mumbo jumbo about shutter speed, apertures, exposure and iso settings. And im like "woah woah woah woah woah you mess with all that?" And then i realized that i employ the same attention to detail with cameras as i do with video games. I never know what I'm doing, I just hit a bunch of buttons and hope for the best.

So basically if i knew what i was doing with my camera, my pictures would come out a lot nicer. And if i knew how to use photoshop... i could do some other cool things...all i mean is, my creativity would have that outlet. Like a person who has a way with words and knows how to play guitar. If you just have a way with words, you're a poet. Stick a guitar in the mix and you're a songwriter. Have someone else play the guitar and your art is subject to their filter.

Photography may not be my forte, but what i would like to learn is film editing, directing, maybe animation, etc because think of all the know-how I'd have then? Id be able to get my ideas across exactly as I intended, which has always been a problem. Stand up provides an interesting challenge because all you have are words. But as i get into sketch writing and producing, scriptwriting etc, I'm going to want be more literate.

I didn't realize it till now, but that's what I like about working for New Media. As I write sketches, and see them being produced, the more I'm learning how to express myself in future sketches. Like I'll have an idea of what editing can do, and can keep that in mind when I'm writing. I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to my shit. I want to write it, produce it, direct it, edit it, and star in it. And hopefully all this is putting paint on my palette and preparing me for my masterpiece.

 

im sick of thinking about him. it seems like no matter what, all my thoughts come back to him. so i distract myself whenever possible. Today at lunch i bought two chocolate chip cookies. one regular chocolate chip. one double chocolate chip. and i am way more in love with the double chocoloate chip, but it took me twenty minutes to decide which to eat first. because if i start with the regular, as good as it is, it would take away from the unbelievableness of the first bite of the double. because once i have cookie, the initial thrill is gone. but if i start with the double, i end with an eh cookie. do i want to start strong or end strong? and it wasn't till halfway through another debate that a coworker said "earth to maria. hello? someone's a space cadet today! what are you thinking about?" and I couldn't think of anything smarter fast enough, so I just told him

 "...is it Anderson Cooper or Cooper Anderson?"
He stared at me for a second, obviously disappointed that it wasn't more significant. Finally he said "Anderson Cooper."
I didn't give a shit either way, but I wish the answer hadn't come so easy. I took a bite of the regular cookie and gave myself something to look forward to.