just smile and nod
A brief summary of the past two weeks:
* New York Pride. Four of my closest friends visiting from outta town. The Pier Dance. The parade. Alegria. Thank gawd Pride comes but once a year.
* Unemployment. I mean, self-employment. Hello, freelancing! Now how do I stay focused and resist the urge to get sucked back into "Days"?
* Coldplay. The White Stripes. Missy Elliott. Dance music? No thanks.
* New shoes. Benetton. Who knew?
* My new favorite magazine. Oh, Canada.
* Independence Day in the ATL. This was my third trip South in three weeks. But good times were had with Huff Daddy and Randy (our gracious hosts for the weekend) as well as these guys, who had us over for a cute cookout with some mean Mai Tais. Wreck.
* Finally back in NYC, but the BF is away for work. God, I’m exhausted.
On a related note, something strange happened to me in ATL this weekend. I lost my voice.
Friday, as the BF and I were leaving NYC, I mentioned that my throat was scratchy — most likely the residual effects of our Pride adventures.
Though we kept things pretty chill Friday and Saturday, by Sunday I could tell that my vocal chords were not happy. That afternoon we threw a surprise pool party for the BF’s birthday, and later moved the fun over to the Abbey.
Monday morning, I sounded awful: squeaks and wheezes in the place of vowels. Sometimes no sound at all.
This has never happened to me before — at least not to this degree. It was especially annoying at Chris’ barbecue, because I ran into, oh, two dozen friends I haven’t seen since leaving town, and all of them wanted an update on how NYC is treating us.
By the time we left the barbecue, I just gave up. Our next stop was another pool but with a smaller group, and I opted to just not speak.
Now, anyone who knows me will attest that this is damn hard for an outspoken Aries like myself. We ended the night watching fireworks from a friend’s loft downtown, and I was more of an observer than a participant.
There’s something to be said for not talking. Not only does it force you to listen more, it makes you look, and to note things that might not be immediately obvious when you’re busy running your mouth. I certainly felt that by the end of Monday.
I left ATL with a different view of the city than when I lived there, and I’m still putting the pieces together.
Now, three days later, my voice still has not fully recovered. I had to squeak out my order to the Starbucks barista this afternoon, and I’m mainly just marking time until the BF gets back in town.
* New York Pride. Four of my closest friends visiting from outta town. The Pier Dance. The parade. Alegria. Thank gawd Pride comes but once a year.
* Unemployment. I mean, self-employment. Hello, freelancing! Now how do I stay focused and resist the urge to get sucked back into "Days"?
* Coldplay. The White Stripes. Missy Elliott. Dance music? No thanks.
* New shoes. Benetton. Who knew?
* My new favorite magazine. Oh, Canada.
* Independence Day in the ATL. This was my third trip South in three weeks. But good times were had with Huff Daddy and Randy (our gracious hosts for the weekend) as well as these guys, who had us over for a cute cookout with some mean Mai Tais. Wreck.
* Finally back in NYC, but the BF is away for work. God, I’m exhausted.
On a related note, something strange happened to me in ATL this weekend. I lost my voice.
Friday, as the BF and I were leaving NYC, I mentioned that my throat was scratchy — most likely the residual effects of our Pride adventures.
Though we kept things pretty chill Friday and Saturday, by Sunday I could tell that my vocal chords were not happy. That afternoon we threw a surprise pool party for the BF’s birthday, and later moved the fun over to the Abbey.
Monday morning, I sounded awful: squeaks and wheezes in the place of vowels. Sometimes no sound at all.
This has never happened to me before — at least not to this degree. It was especially annoying at Chris’ barbecue, because I ran into, oh, two dozen friends I haven’t seen since leaving town, and all of them wanted an update on how NYC is treating us.
By the time we left the barbecue, I just gave up. Our next stop was another pool but with a smaller group, and I opted to just not speak.
Now, anyone who knows me will attest that this is damn hard for an outspoken Aries like myself. We ended the night watching fireworks from a friend’s loft downtown, and I was more of an observer than a participant.
There’s something to be said for not talking. Not only does it force you to listen more, it makes you look, and to note things that might not be immediately obvious when you’re busy running your mouth. I certainly felt that by the end of Monday.
I left ATL with a different view of the city than when I lived there, and I’m still putting the pieces together.
Now, three days later, my voice still has not fully recovered. I had to squeak out my order to the Starbucks barista this afternoon, and I’m mainly just marking time until the BF gets back in town.
3 Comments:
I forgot to comment on your voice when I saw you at the bb-que Monday... I thought you were demoing a new phone-sex operator voice. I can't believe I missed such an easy opportunity for a dig. :) I must have been trashed.
tray, i didnt know u were a fellow days addict (recovering one). i swore id never watch it again after the whole princess gina thing.
Well, this is interesting. I did a blog search for barista espresso and found your site. When I get some time I'll come back and find out where barista espresso appears and how it relates - if it even does. Take care - nice work.
Post a Comment
<< Home