Lists: On the way to work this morning (a new, longer commute) I was going over the many objects in my pocket. The reason for this? Checks and balances, mainly. But then I started to think about all of the random, mundane minutae of a person's, nay, a woman's life. While Carlos beat himself up yesterday trying to find teflon tape, I was running down a mental list of all of the things I needed to do before work the next day. You see, women generally have the unfortunate reponsibility to not only remember their own lists but that of their family. There's some sort of unwritten rule that Man, being one-tracked minded, cannot maintain their own facts, figures or the precise location of any of their possessions. As a result, women look after them in addition to their already plentiful listings. What, praytell, are women thinking about? Let me give you a rundown:

1. Chores and To Do's - Only because woman's work is never done.
2. Birthdays - Not only for networking purposes but in case of an emergency when her significant other turns to her with that deer-caught-in-headlights stare and says, "What's my/the kids' birthdate, hon?"
3. Worries - Not that men do not have worries, but women (being the dutiful multi-taskers that they are) have a tendency to store these worries and allow them to fester long enough to find creative solutions to them. Worries like, 'How Will We Pay the Bills This Month?' and 'How Can I Find A Babysitter in Time for Our Dinner Date?' among others.
4. Is He Happy or Does He Love Me? - Yes, this is an evitable thought when a committed relationship lingers on. Most women fret (See #3) about this just as much as they worry about their own happiness. Thanks to the conflicting reports from women's magazines citing, "101 Ways to Please Your Man" amid the report about "Taking Time for Yourself", women are conflicted and the cycle of guilt and shame will remain for a good portion of their lives until they realize that it is not their responsibility to make the other happy. By then, they're old and bitter.
5. Secretarial Work - Why are most women able to remember their hair appointments, schedule regular checkups with the dentist for themselves and their family members and contact their cable companies about account balances? Because women were born to be secretaries. Is there a man that can challenge this notion? Sure, but I haven't met him yet.
6. Your Inner Artist - For women like me, there is an additional friend that shows up uninvited at inappropriate times (and no it isn't your menstrual cycle, although that little inconvenient buddy can show up and ruin your train of thought, too). No, this is your inner monologue. Inspiration. Your Muse. Every artist has one but women have to manage this beast amid the regularly scheduled chaos of their lives. That can be annoying if you're hit with a rush of cosmic verbiage when you're in the middle of other To Do's (See #1). This welcome rush of ideas and insight sometimes is placed on the back-burner; before it is lost forever, it is best to make sure you plan ahead by carrying something that can store this divine idturned thought turned light-bulb masterpiece. Carry a notepad, a cell phone, a tape recorder to avoid missing it.
7. Miscellaneous - This is the category that includes: "that little black dress I want to purchase" and "What is the perfect purse that goes with that pair of new shoes I bought at Macy's?" Ah, decisions, decisions.
8. The Small Stuff - Where did I place my keys? When was the last time I had a checkup? How many miles can I drive before my car needs gas? Did I bring my three forms of ID to change my phone/cable/utilities service? C'mon, if you're a woman you are required to remember and store just about every bit of information like a computer database. One bit of advice: don't sweat the small stuff.
9. The Fun Stuff - The tabloid lives of celebrities and poking fun at American Idol contestants. It's great to be critical, especially since it's NOT you. It also makes for a heapload of useless information like remembering the words to The Flintstones theme song and thinking stupid thoughts like, 'Where in the world is Brangelina today'?

What is the point of all of this? Well maybe it's just that I like the lists. Even though I complain, it keeps your mind sharp. It is the lists that save us, the reminder ribbons that bind us. Or, something like that.

Experiencing Loneliness: This should not be confused with lonesomeness. Loneliness is a healthy part of a human being's life. It is also the most frightening prospect because it means that you have to start paying attention to your heart. That can be a scary realization for lots of people. What one must avoid, if melancholy thoughts should begin, is feeling helpless. Helplessness leads to poor judgement and even though it sounds so common sense-y, people make the same mistakes over and over again. Are You Lonesome Tonight? What is the Difference between Loneliness and Lonesomeness? Good question. Here's my take on it:

• Loneliness allows you the ability to hear your innermost thoughts. Lonesomeness corners you and sets you on a downward spiral away from productivity and from your self.
• Loneliness is the feeling you get when a sudden, unexpected change is brought upon you. It often requires an extended period to adjust. Lonesomeness is a feeling that falls under the assumption that you need someone or something else to satiate your pain in order to help you live.
• Loneliness can still be felt (among the living) in public places. Lonesomeness separates you from everyone you love.

People can get over being lonely. Like the Muppets sang: "A table for one, can be fun!". Yet, too many people fall victim to the trappings that loneliness can bestow. It makes way for Lonesomeness and Desperation. Those two love to stop by for dinner and feast on your heart for awhile. But we won't let 'em, will we?? Of course not.

Many of life's lessons are learned when one becomes an adult and has to essentially 'take on the world' alone. One might even venture to say that one of the earliest displays of solitude is thrust upon us at childbirth. But with each experience: your first car, your first apartment, your first move tere is one major thing that you are learning: Strength. You'll survive the despair and you may even come out with some new insight on your blessed boundaries.

So go ahead and live, breathe, die...alone and in charge. You against the Forces of Nature. You vs The World.

I mean, that's cool. Isn't it?

Organizing the Chaos: I know, I know my public...I've been away from my pc and I'm dying...so SUE ME. I'm in the process of moving and boy is it a mess! But since my fans need me, I'll let you know what's been on my mind these last few weeks I've been kept away from All of You. My nightmare began officially last week when I had to get packing (literally). My life reduced to garbage bags and recycled boxes, courtesy of McDonald's (thanks, guys!). I'm still not completely out, but I'm out enough, okay? Now stop bugging me! No, really. I caught sight of my fresh digs and my new commute much like a newborn. I've never really been away from JC for too long so it seems like a whole new world ~ even if it is just the next town over. Ah, good ole Bayonne, NJ. *Cue Sopranos music here* So I woke up this morning and got myself a gun. Not literally, of course. I just need to shoot myself in the head after all of the craziness that transpired during the move. And just in case you took the previous line seriously, maybe you need to be committed. It's a "joke", people! Which brings me to an aside that has absolutely nothing to do with my move but everything to do with how people miscontrue phrasing, sarcasm, and mock statements. Allow me to go on a rant in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... Okay, if you currently reside in a place as cynical as Jersey City can be, then you can recognize sarcasm a mile away. Any major city has this wonderful ability to make sick fun of their troubles--which are many if you live in a big city. Follow me? So, why do some people not understand that when I say things like: "Today is so slow I wanna kill myself" that I don't actually mean it? When I make lude comments or rude noises and gestures it is just a form of expression NOT, I repeat, NOT to insult or hurt anyone. So I made some such allusion to a mock hanging involving my tongue sticking out and a noose I fashioned out of my scarf. I was fooling around and someone offered this bit of help: "If you ever need to talk..." C'mon people! If I really wanted to kill myself I would've done so long ago and I probably would've been all secretive and hidden about it. If you announce your suicidal intentions, odds are you are too cowardly to do the deed. Just ask parents who have lost their children. They can tell you that what was going on inside of their teen or child was an internal struggle that they knew nothing about. Those "warning signs" that psychologists rattle on about don't always apply. Even in high school, a young person had written a poem/suicide note that my teacher passed around to show as an example of how silence can kill. Of course impressionable minds took the lesson to amplify our imaginations, inventing all sorts of teen-angst melodramas to curry favor from the teacher. Unfortunately, there sometimes is no "horror show" when it somes to suicide; it's such a personal thing. But I digress... Where was I? Ah yes, my move from the 7th circle of Hades. How could I forget? So now that I am (almost) completely out, I'd like to share some of my experiences thusfar. Basically, Bayonne is much, much quieter. I am also near a park where I can walk my dogs and they have their own little doggie park. The park is actually a good area to meander 'round which is perfect for a writer's "ME" time. I can hear my thoughts now instead of police and fire sirens that could shatter glass. Don't believe me? Just ask anyone who's ever called me on the phone while one of those suckers is passing by. Went something like this: Me - Hello? *Siren Sounding* Person on the Line - Hello? Me - What?! Person on the Line - Hello...uh, Hello, hello? *Siren singing* Me - You have to speak up! *Siren still going* Person on the Line - What?! Me - I say, you HAVE TO SPEAK UP!! *Siren still going* Person on the Line - ...is that noise? Me - What? Person on the Line - Hm? *Siren Dissipating* Me - WHAT DID YOU SAY?? *Siren Fading* Person on the Line - Well, you don't have to yell!!! *click* *dial tone* Exactly. Annoying. It's quite a bit different now. Understand that there are its quirks (what place could I reside without a little bit of the odd, y'know?) and flavorfuls of enigmatic cast of characters like, Maria Lourdes Baptist (name's been changed to protect the insane), who attends school to escape from her parents' 24-7 religious chatter-box diatribes. There's also the drunken folks at Frankie's bar who love to sing, "I Will Survive" at say, three in the morning. Then, you got your silent-but-deadly cast who travel around in mysteriously large, ominous vans at all hours of the day and night. Dressed in their floor-length leather finery or just beat-up black leather bomber jackets and flare slacks from the 70s, these wiseguys are out in every kind of weather, smoking their packs of Marlboro Lights. Yeah, mobsters. Only my mom would've shushed me, put one finger to her lips and whispered, "mobsters." I guess that was just in case someone was within earshot (i.e. the FBI) who gave a crap. Or, maybe she was worried that I was wearing a "freakin'" wire!--NOT! Anyway, NJ is full of weird and highly questionable so I don't think too much of it. At least I can more or less sleep soundly at night. That is if the drunks keep it down to a low roar.

Sleep, Interrupted: You may wonder why I don't update my blog, like on a daily basis. Scratch that. I may wonder why I don't update my blog on a daily basis. The reality is...I'm too tired. This move is taking its toll and making me fuzzy. Not cuddly-huggy-bear fuzzy, but more like dazed-and-confused fuzzy. Fuzzy Wuzzy Fuzzy. I like that. So I'm sleepy and exhausted because this daily worry has manifested itself into a fluctuation in my sleep patterns. Basically, I can't sleep soundly. This is the soup that, once stirred, makes a very cranky me. I hear that sleep deprivation in my 30s is kind of, y'know, common. How do I know this? Oprah wrote about it in her magazine. So now you know it's true. Only, somehow her solution to the problem does not appear to be working for me. Maybe I'm just too anxious to motivate myself out of bed and create a masterpiece akin to the Mona Lisa. Maybe I just don't want to disurb my family by turning on all of the lights to write in my journal. Maybe I'm too sleepy to roll out of bed to curl up in front of my pc to post to my blog. You get the idea. So, thanks Oprah (for nothing). Symptomatic, Hydromatic...It Must Be GREASED LIGHTNING: Have you ever been so tired that both your body and your mind are aware of the lack o' sleep but can't seem to work together to make it happen? Have you ever lied awake at night with a list of tasks, lists, ideas, plans, chores? Doesn't it annoy you how much you have to do? Never fear, you can always gogogogogogogogo! That's right kiddies! It's better than Nyquil, better than Ambien...it's GREASED LIGHTNING!!!!!! For just a small fee, feel better, look great in the morning, be as fresh as a daisy...anywhere, anytime! Goodbye circles under your eyes! Watch them disappear like magic! If only... But that fantasy is over. In truth, there is no greased lightning in a bottle (and no prototype, either) . So I guess I have to settle for a can of Red Bull and some Visine eyedrops ~ to get the red out, silly!