rachelpink rides the bus

Poison

I ordered this shirt for myself. I needed a present.

It's something I've wanted since Comic-Con 2006. Soon it will be mine.

Another thing I ordered? One delicious skein of Handmaiden Sea Silk in the Rainforest colorway. Look at this! It's made of silk and seaweed, and I hear that as you knit, you smell the ocean. My needles will turn it into a lacy scarf. Because I miss fall, and if I knit myself a lacy scarf it will come sooner.

Call Me BumbleBee

Getting to see an early screening (an early FREE) screening of TRANSFORMERS kind of rocks.

Especially because the movie kind of rocked.

Lots of action. Lots of humor. Lots of cool-ass robots.

I am only slightly embarrassed to admit that I got the shivers whenever a moving vehicle turned into a robot. Damn, it's sexy. Cars and robots are hot.

When we left the theater, Susan said that she expected all the passing cars to turn into robots. It's true. And it would have been all kinds of awesome if a passing cab turned out to be Checkers the Autobot.

What I Do

I got around to updating my online portfolio (of PR stuff--so exciting!).

More Than Meets The Eye

There are things a girl can get excited about and there are things that make a girl hyperventilate.

What's exciting? Tonight I'm going to see an advanced screening of Transformers with my friends. That's a mighty lovely work perk. Another bit of excitement? In September I'm going to see The Cure at MSG. Good good good.

What's not exciting? Finding out that due to a series of bizarre errors (not all mine), my bank account is overdrawn by $2300. Having a bank balance of -$2300 really really really sucks. It's almost sorted, but not quite. F. And work, despite the charming perks, has been a big bowl of nasty this week. If possible, I would like to find a time machine and deliver myself into next week where I'll have a bank balance on the + side and a happier time at work.

Itchy and Scratchy

I have allergies.

There. I said it.

For the longest time I secretly harbored the thought that people with allergies were weak. Weak like the people who get car sick.

Now, at 32, I've developed both allergies and car sickness.

The car sick thing was undeniable. One day I was fine in a car. The next I was ready to hurl. I only get sick about a third of the time, but that's enough to make the point.

Now the allergy thing. . .that's another story. I really didn't want to have allergies. Lately I noticed a strange phenomenon. When I felt "sick" everyone around me felt sick too.  And those happened to be the days that NY1 told me that the pollen levels were high. Still, I considered it all a big coincidence. I just had a cold. A virus. The plague. Anything--just not allergies.

The last few weeks it's taken a turn for the worse and I can't deny it. All the folks I work with who have real, documented allergies feel crummy when I feel crummy. I either have an amazing capacity for empathy, or I have allergies too.

This weekend I sat down in Madison Square Park to get some knitting done. The sun was shining. The metal trees glistened. Dogs sniffed my leg. Children laughed. And I only lasted 15 minutes. My eyes watered up and my throat closed. I packed up my knitting and ran from the park into the safety of the treeless streets. Despite the sunshine on Sunday, I stayed inside. All I could muster was napping and reading and napping. That broke my heart a little. I love me some sunshine.

Claritin helps a little. Not having allergies would help a lot. Did my NYC give these to me? Or is my immune system breaking apart as I get older?

Bubble Boy

My brother scanned in Donovan's bubble picture. Nifty, no?

Once

Kim and I met to see "Once" in Chelsea. 

"Once" is small, shaky, gorgeous, quiet, and brilliant. If you like music, love, Ireland, heartbreak, or happiness, "Once" will bring you joy (and a little sadness--I cried a bit at parts). It stars two real-life musicians who don't have acting experience. One of the musicians is Glenn Hansard.

Here is Glenn Hansard:

I love Glenn Hansard and I would like to marry him and make little Irish Glenn Hansard babies.

When Glenn Hansard sings I feel it in my veins. He's the reason girls fall for musicians. He's the reason that Kim and I both turned to each other at the end of the film and said, "I need to run home and buy that music."

Don't get me wrong, the female lead sparkles too. But I don't want to have her babies. I just want to hang out with her and listen to her play the piano and sing.

Right now I'm listening to the soundtrack and tingling. All-over tingling.

And I'm wishing that I could play guitar or piano. Or that I had kept up with my singing or saxophone playing back in high school.

For one brilliant year of my life, I was a good singer. A solid singer. It was jr. high school. I received an "O" at NYSSMA, the highest score, for my rendition of a dramatic and depressing song about a creepy bird. And that "O" landed me a spot  at SCMEA, the concert for the best singers in Suffolk County. And I practiced and practiced and promptly lost my voice in time for the concert. And singing wasn't the same after that. Losing my voice was a sad failure. And I knew I'd lose it again. And that I'd never be the absolute best singer. I quit caring so much.

And now Glenn Hansard won't let me be in his band. Lesson learned. Don't give up. Keep signing.

Goodreads.com

Come and be my friend at GoodReads.com.

It's a site that helps you track what you're reading--and let's you spy on your friends reading habits. I'm growing to love it.

Happy Birthday, Kambri

Today is Kambri's birthday.

I'm lucky to know her--and I'm lucky we both like goofy things like painting pottery or we might never have met.

With the Chickens

I need to be awake more. And I need to do more.

After reading a bunch of articles like this one over at Zen Habits, I re-set my alarm for 5:45 am.

On Tuesday, I was up at 6:05. Not too bad. Just two snooze hits. I made it to the gym by 6:30.

On Wednesday, I was up at 6:00. Better. Gym by 6:17.

Today, I was out of bed by 5:48. And by 7am I had fed the cat and spent an hour at the gym.

Right now, I will admit that I'm a little sleepy. But I'll pep up with some coffee and crises.

I've made it this far before, and then I fail on the weekend. So I'm going to TRY and stick to my routine on the weekends. Even if I wake up and read in bed for a few hours, that's better than f-ing with my circadian rhythms. Or so I've heard.