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So I got my sorry and sick ass out to court today in the freezing cold, found the best seat in the house (right next to an outlet so that I can plug my trusty notebook in), and began multi-tasking.  There I was, going back and forth between watching an episode of Scrubs, watching a lecture presentation for school, jotting down notes, emailing my coworkers and texting my friends… I never felt more productive!!!  I was a madwoman, furiously tabbing between websites, typing furiously away at the keyboard when 3 hours had passed and the wannabe-cool-with-the-peeps-yet-tough cop announced that all the cases were resolved and there wasn’t a need for any more jurors - we were all released from jury duty for the next 6 years!!  WOOOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOOO!  My god! All of us cheered and as our cop friend called our names to receive our receipt - we all hurriedly rushed to the front, waved to the rest of the people still waiting for their names to be called, did a little dance and bounced outta there.  It was like we were finally graduating from high school, but without the congratulations and I hope you make something out of yourself speech.  What a relief and a nice added bonus to be out for half a day.  Of course, being sick and all, I am spending it enclosed in yet another room (my bedroom) with my notebook, tabbing between windows, emailing friends, doing homework, watching Scrubs…….  hmmmm…..

Having successfully avoided jury duty ala “shred and chuck all jury duty looking mail” for several very long years, I was finally convinced by peers and husband that it was my duty to serve or lest be fined or jailed for avoiding it. So I filled out the survey the NYC courts send me seemingly every year and lo and behold, less than 3 months later, I am requested to begin my duty as a telephone jury standby. So I started calling in. And I continued to call in. And I kept calling in. And finally, they request my presence at the courthouse today. Whatevah should I wear?!?
Now, since it was my first time going to jury duty after having avoided it so successfully all these years without being penalized, I had no idea what to expect. So naturally, I asked God - the good ‘ole inter-web. Luckily, despite the fact that NY courthouses do not allow you to bring camera phones (which of course I was able to bring in anyway today), they do allow you to bring your laptop and offer free WIFI access (something you can only find out from blogs of other people who have served but not from the official NYC jury website). HOT DAMN!!!! Jury duty is gonna be a snap! I thought. Prepared to spend a day of surfing, perhaps finally updating Rantbox (which they BLOCKED! DAMN THEM!!) and doing the obligatory school work, I packed my trusty notebook into my backpack and headed off to do my civic duty.

Of course, every person I am in contact with that finds out I have jury duty, preps me with various statements I must make to get myself out of serving; “Say you no speakah engrish”, “Ask if they do hangings anymore!”, “Tell em yer racist!”. But as I got there, realizing that practically every person in the room with me was rehearsing similar lines, I knew there was very little chance of me getting out of jury duty. Dammit, why did I fill out that survery!?!? So I sat with the rest of the drones that allowed the angry courthouse clerks to treat us as if we were five.

“I told you to sit down!”

“Did I say to come up here?”

“You’ve been a citizen for 22 years and you don’t speak English?!!? Sit down!”

I sat and I sat. I surfed and surfed till my precious notebook ran out of juice. Then I snoozed. Then I read a magazine. Then I contemplated taking out my cell phone but at the last minute hesitated, just in time for the woman behind me to get her cell phone confiscated by angry courthouse clerk #2. The rest of the wannabe jurors were a mix of people. Many were immigrants who looked confused and annoyed. Welcome to America, hope that $40 Uncle Sam is giving you helps feed the ten illegal relatives living in your home. There were a handful of young people - many who, surprisingly, did not go to my precious God/internet for help and watched me jealously as I checked my email and watched last seasons episode of “Scrubs”. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! U R ALL f00l5!! I AM ON UR INTER-WEB! CHECKING UR WEBSITES!! And the rest, well the rest, seemed to be the dregs of humanity or standby jurors who have been there for several days and have gone crazy.

The waiting room was equipped with several large plasma screen televisions, however, the channels were dominated by angry courthouse clerk #1 who thought we were all lower-middle class white housewives that enjoys watching Live with Regis and Kelly, Young and the Restless, The Price is Right and for the modern day house-husband, Home Improvement. Angry courthouse clerk #1 also mixed it up a bit for all the minority folk out there and put on The Steve Harvey Show and The Cosby Show for two episodes. The lroom was also decorated with several small bookshelves with various books (as bookshelves generally carry such). Unfortunately, most of the books looked as if they had Fabio on the front cover.
During lunch, I ran around furiously looking for some decent food and found none. Went to the car to desperately charge up my notebook only to find that I brought the wrong power plug. Cussed and screamed in my car for a bit. Called Otto and made it out to be his fault somehow and cried for good measure. (Hey, cut me some slack, I’m also really sick today). Quickly considered leaving right then and there. Reluctantly head back to the courthouse waiting room to sit in misery.
At about 3:30, Wannabe-cool-with-the-peeps-but-tough-at-the-same-time cop announces that those of us who waited so patiently all day could go home but should return tomorrow at 9. DAMMIT!!!!!!

Welp, guess it means more JURY DUTY SUCKS ASS PART DEAUX TOMORROW.

The situation with my tenant (see below) has been rectified…sorta. With the help of the good ole internet, we were provided with advice from random strangers throughout the world on how to handle the situation…both legally and illegally…ahem. We took the legal route of course and the guy got arrested again is now being charged appropriately with assualt and harrassment. Of course, my tenant is still moving out and he still lives two doors away - but at least justice has been served somewhat. It turned out that the police did not originally charge him when they first arrested him. Otto and I made sure that didn’t occur again.

So I came to the realization that the internet is God. When I need answers, I go to the internet. When I want to know what everyone in the world is doing, I go to the internet. When I need to find a tenant - I say “Internet, I need to find me a tenant” and voila! Tons and tons of pages appear before me with people looking for apartments. The internet is bigger than imaginable and yet has given me more answers than any other religion or philosophy. Thank you Internet!

When I was 11 or so, I made this box I called the Memory Box (genuis, eh?) where I put everything that I thought was meaningful and important in my life.  These things included my first gift from a boy - the wrapper of a chocolate easter egg, angsty poetry dedicated to the evils of men, a multitude of buttons I collected that marked my beliefs during the time, provocative photos of me (see I’ve been a camgirl all my life!) and other silly little mementos.  I would regularly pull out the box and sift through them, giggling here and there, sighing here and there, groaning here and there…  But of course, as I got older, there became way too many “important life altering” moments in my life that I no longer collected things in my Memory Box and my later-in-life mementos became scattered throughout my home and later thrown away.  And now, I am at a phase in my life where every little memory is important to me and I wonder if my little brain can manage it all without a box to put them in.  And when I try to recall my previous memories, they seem to come to me in a haze, like a dream and vaguely there.

Will I ever remember the time-

when I finally felt respected from my sisters because I pulled the best prank on one of them?  How while we were in the bathroom she was too short to reach the string for the light and asked me to check if the toilet seat cover was down and I purposely told her it was and laughed hysterically when she dunked her foot in toilet water?

when I used to wrap my blue blankie around my neck and pretend I was a superhero and jump off the arm of my couch?

when I first fell in love and danced in the dark with my then boyfriend to “Finally Found Love” until the headlights of my parent’s car broke through the window blinds and he had to sneak out through the yard and jump several fences?

when I packed my things once and for all and left home and somehow managed to survive on my own for the first two years?

when I met Otto and kissed him halfway on the lips before the train came while wondering “what the hell am I doing?”

when I first started in the career I am in now and felt amazed and humbled at what I was able to accomplish with a child with a disability?

These memories are barely there and I wish I could remember every moment in vivid detail but slowly, my younger image of Otto, of my first student, of my sisters, of my first love, have lost form, have lost their voice, have lost their setting…and all I have is this vague recollection of why I am who I am today.

My long time friend and tenent has been harrassed and assaulted by our drunk neighbor somewhat randomly. This is a guy who is constantly sitting outside drunk as a skunk, tries to be outgoing and friendly to all the neighbors in a obnoxious way, tries to be involved with every little event that occurs on the block and seems a bit too friendly with the kids in the neighborhood. This guy has approached me many times trying to strike up a chat and I’ve either nodded, smiled, and/or walked away. My friend, on the other hand, completely ignores him or finally tells him to fuck off.

Well three days ago, my friend’s car alarm was going off in our driveway. This asswhole drunk came banging on our door. My friend, startled, went to the door and he slurred that the alarm was going off (meanwhile, at this point it had stopped). Her attitude is aggressive but she goes and disables the alarm in her car. She even, in her gruff way, apologizes. The drunk says “Well sorry isn’t good enough” and actually gets into her face, pushing her with his chest. Now, my friend is not exactly the meek type - she used to be in the army, she doesn’t have a problem defending herself, so she pushed him back. She turned towards her car and the drunk grabbed her by the throat and threw her down to the ground. He called her all sorts of names and threaten to kill her and damage her car. A bit more of a tussle occured and when he realized she was reaching for the club in her car, he jetted up the block. She called the cops and they came within 3 minutes. She received a scratch and a bruise out of this deal. The cops determined the case as a harrassment charge because the drunk claimed he didn’t touch her and then also added a resisting arrest charge because he got aggressive during the arrest.

So, they take down my friend’s information and leave. When I hear of this, I immediately tell her we need to go to the precinct because they didn’t tell her anything. We didn’t even know what the charges were during the time - we were hoping assault. But they tell us that the assistant district attorney would call her that day to sign an affadavit and write a statement. Did anyone call? Nope. In fact, we called over and over both the D.A.’s office and the precinct and they don’t even have it on record. My friend went into the precinct and finally spoke to one of the arresting officers and they told her that it was a harrassment charge and that they could do nothing else unless he attacks her again. The guy was out the next day, smoking and drinking on his porch. The worst part of it all is that he’s only two doors away…we see him all the time, we have to pass by him….
Well now what? My friend has noticed a dent in her car and she’s moving out within the week. This is someone who after four years of living here has not had a problem with anyone in the neighborhood. I don’t blame her for wanting to go but I feel that this guy just won and screwed with our lives. I don’t understand why the police are not more sympathetic and why they are not protecting us. I don’t understand why they don’t have it on record. I don’t understand why this guy can have so much power and why he had to pick on her. I hate this and I’m so depressed. Even looked for answers on a public forum and most people just said to get a gun because the police wouldn’t do anything.

I have always admired Asia Carrera because of her down to earth attitude and more than just a porn star persona.  Asia retired from porn gracefully at 30, got married to fitness guru Don Lemmon, had a baby and is now 8 months pregnant with baby #2.  Life was going pretty well for her and as she had planned.  Several days ago, Asia reported on her website that her husband, was killed in an auto accident.

I am completely shocked and sadden by the news.  I feel horrible for the predicament that she’s in.  She just doesn’t deserve this and it absolutely kills me that no matter how picture perfect life can be, anything can happen to change that in an instant.  One can adopt the philosophy to live life to the fullest but when I truly think about it, I don’t know how I could ever live without Otto and not live in fear of losing him.

How cruel does life have to be in order to prove its power?

I have no problems turning 30! But I do have problems dealing with how quickly time has passed.  Not long ago, or trillions of net years ago, I was in my mid 20’s, still feeling naive about the world and not caring what happens as long as I’m having fun doing it.  But as 30 approaches, I can’t help but feel “was it all worth it so far?”  And if not, how am I going to make it worth it in my 30’s?

I am by no means a heavy smoker, in fact, I’m more of a social smoker.  I smoke while hanging out with friends and I smoke at work with my boss (remember the Friends episode where Rachel smokes to be part of the decsion making process? Yup, I’m THAT group).  I don’t buy my own packs anymore - haven’t in years, I don’t have yellowed fingers or teeth.  But I do smoke and truthfully, I enjoy it.  I enjoy it after an exceptional meal, after exceptional sex, after an exhausting day.  There’s something about the quiet calm that comes with lighting one up.  But there are times where I absolutely hate it.  Although I have quit a number times, once for about 2 years - now is the time for me to decide to quit for good.  It’s this whole turning 30 thing.  I spent so much of my 20’s not really caring because I felt I had all the time in the world and now suddenly I’m feeling like I’ve got very little time left.  And damn! if I didn’t realize back then how everything I did affects me now and there’s no turning back.

My father smokes, though he does it in secrecy now.  Although, the way my mom has her eye on him, I don’t think he has the opportunity to smoke that much.  He thinks he’s fooling everyone but we all know he does it but we keep it quiet just the same.  In second grade, I went on this big NO SMOKING campaign and drew up all these silly crayon posters.  They decorated at least 2 entire blocks around my neighborhood.  The punk kids would rip them down and I would relentlessly replace them (little did I know I would be smoking with these punk kids years later…).  One day my father was walking me to the bus stop and began to light up his cigarette.  I looked at him and said “Dad, don’t smoke”.  He took his first inhale and grunted at me (the only type of exchange he used to give me back then).  I think I stopped putting up posters then.

Years later, at 14, my parents found a pack of cigs in my bookbag.  Of course, like every teen, I was “holding” them for a friend.  I got my ass kicked for that, yet I couldn’t help but be amazed at the absurdity of it all - my ass getting kicked for smoking by my smoker father, whom we didn’t let on that we knew he still smoked despite trying to hide it from us.  Still to this day, my parents don’t know I smoke as I’m still afraid of getting my ass kicked.  However, I have this sneaking suspicion that my dad knows I smoke - which makes things even crazier.  All in all, I’m glad that once in a while, he does get out to have a little bit - because with all the shit I’ve put him through, my mom has put him through, my sisters… living in a house full of women……   The old man deserves a few moments of quiet calm once in a while.

My plan is simple - quit cold turkey, bring my boss down with me so I don’t miss out on important impromptu smoker meetings outside of the building, and drink much more heavily when I’m out with my pals.  How much more easier can it be?

One other thing that I have been battling which has also required my absence away from ranbtox is throat infections. This would be my fifth one in the past four months. I am extremely frustrated and exhausted from being sick so much but what else can I do? I work in a school with germy little children. I think that this is one of the biggest cons about working in the field. I don’t even care about getting bitten or scratched by these kids but getting sick just infuriates me mainly because parents tend to send these kids in like this and keep them at school regardless. They don’t realize how easily it passes around to everyone and how we just bounce it back and forth until the chain breaks.

So now I’m sucking down salty rotten kumquat drinks several times a day. Yum! Luckily, my mother tends to be real motherly now that I’m 29 and made my father make 4 small containers of special congee (watered down rice really) for me. My poor 70-some-odd year old father has to drive 20 minutes to bring me the congee and he didn’t look too happy doing it. (But that’s ok, I wasn’t too happy finding one of his hairs in my special congee either!)

So this Otto-absent weekend has been torturous for me. I had so many plans to go out with pals and instead I ended up getting really sick. I spent all my time ordering crappy movies on cable, trying to find every person I’ve ever known on Myspace (does adding your 22 year old dorky cousin on your Myspace friends list add to my coolness factor?), and spending hours eating just one bowl of soup because my throat burns everytime I swallow.

It’s just YATI….

Crap, I’m getting sucked in to myspace…. what the hell is wrong with me?  Make the addiction go away.  Why are all my friends on Myspace? DAMN YOU MYSPACE!!!!!!

I didn’t go. Didn’t get busy with life. As I may or may not have stated earlier, I switched my office into my bedroom. The bedroom looks great but the office - well not so great. In fact, it’s been like this for over a month and only one, I repeat, ONE computer is set up. Now in normal households, this is not a problem. But in my household, when both individuals use the computer excessively, it makes it quite difficult to have equal share of the ‘puter. So basically, Otto has been hogging the damn computer leaving me with only enough time to check my email and do my online course work.

But Otto is gone for the next five days!!! WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!! And I’ve been wasting precious computer time surfing Myspace….and finding a large amount of people I know online. I hate myspace. It has turned my still not-so-savvy-on-the-’puter friends into Tripod web designers. And really, if you have 150 or so friends, are they really your friends?