It’s been a long weekend. Michael and I spent all of Saturday and Sunday painting our bedroom. This entailed removing our two dressers, two bookcases, nightstand, and mattress from the bedroom and squeezing it all into the living room, dining room, and kitchen. After that, I was already tired.

Then, we painted the ceiling and did two coats of the walls before collapsing onto our pillowtop mattress, sprawled out across our living room floor. I was worried that the color we had chosen (oakwood brown) was too dark. Going on wet, it sorta looked like we were smearing poop across our bedroom walls. Still, neuroses didn’t keep me from falling instantly asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I was sore from all the heavy labor of the previous day, but excited to see how things looked now that the paint had dried.

It looked pretty darn good, but it still needed a third coat, and then a fourth round of touch-ups. Then we cleaned the rug (way gross) and brought everything back in. I’m still amazed by how pulled together everything looks, thanks to one bold color choice.

I passed out early last night, and then had to wake up early this morning, as I was appearing as a guest on a morning radio show. Yes. My radio debut. The hosts had happened upon my Tango article on how marriage saved me from debt, so they had me talk about my experiences as a shopaholic. It was surprisingly unhorrific. You can actually listen to the audio clip on the site. (Having to listen to myself is horrific.)

Last weekend was similarly full, and computer-free. Charlotte and Nicole came over Friday night for pizza and wine, and we watched a What Not to Wear marathon as they insulted my footwear.

Then, Charlotte slept over so we could drive down to Philly the next day, to visit Mariana in Old City. We got ourselves some authentic Philly cheesesteaks, wandered around the (pretty damn awesome) Ben Franklin Museum (we actually sat in on a viewing of Ben and Me!), browsed some of the neighborhood shops, and ended up in Mariana’s super-cozy apartment.

Then I sped back up to north Jersey, dropped Charlotte at the bus stop, and went to Mt. Fuji with Michael for Jesse’s birthday dinner. I got loaded on tropical beverages and indulged in hibachi shrimp with lobster.

The next morning, Michael and I drove up to Yonkers to have lunch with his grandmother. After lunch, we looked through old photo albums, and it made me eager to start a family.

After all the activity of the past two weekends, my days seem so empty. I have two articles I should really get a move on with but, instead, I’ve been getting my blogging done quite early in the day, and then feeling…lost until Michael arrives home. Hopefully, impending deadlines will re-motivate me.

In other news:

Salsa classes continue to become even more awesome. We’re twirling each other all over the place!

Also, my Lemondrop piece on married sex has been featured as the Orgasm of the Week. Something we all aspire to…

Until next time…

Back in September, I lost my momentum.

I had been researching career coaching certification programs, going on informational interviews with both career coaches and career counselors, and working on building my Freelancedom blog.

Then, the NY Sun folded, I was suddenly unable to enter a certification program, and my entire plan fell to hell.

Things have been better lately. Since the new year, I’ve guest blogged over at Darren Rowse’s TwiTip, starting blogging occasionally for AOL’s Lemondrop blog, and have gotten assignments for Nerve, Babble, and Time Out NY. It’s why I haven’t been seeing you. It’s why I’ve been so busy.

I haven’t forgotten about career coaching, though. In a flash of pure genius (okay, I was reading the Career Renegade book), I’ve decided to leverage my web presence to more fully promote my proofreading, copy editing, and blogging services, and have also begun work on an ebook which I will eventually sell via Freelancedom, in order to raise money for a certification program. Hopefully, I can make certain changes to my site within the next few days (and by “I,” I mean my web-savvy husband).

And then, once I have achieved world domination, we can hang out again.

Just kidding. We can hang out now. I still leave the condo sometimes. Michael and I have signed up for the next level of salsa at the Starlight Dance Center, and I’m also thinking of returning to belly dancing in March. I’m not a complete career-obsessed recluse.

Wish me luck, and I’ll be sure to keep you all updated.

Apparently, marriage hasn’t completely cut me off from the ability to try new things and have new experiences.

Last we spoke, I was complaining about the rut I was in (a rut that I foresaw extending far, far into my future…).

Since then, I’ve been reminded that, as long as I have my writing, there will be no shortage of surprises in my future.

I remember taking Cris Beam’s From Pitch to Publish class at New School a few years ago. Among the required reading was Robert Boynton’s New New Journalism. Over the course of the semester, I fell in love with Susan Orlean and John Krakauer. I fell in love with immersion journalism. It hit me: This is why you’re a writer. This is your ticket to a full life. This will be your excuse…your reason to push yourself…challenge yourself…take on the things that both intrigue and scare you.

Most recently, writing has led me to salsa-dancing and nude portraiture.

Last week, Michael and I registered for a four-week salsa class at a dance studio in Nutley, along with Diane & Paul. While I’ve been begging Michael to take dance classes with me for what seems like eons (I have a [misguided] dream of someday appearing on So You Think You Can Dance), it wasn’t until I was given the go-ahead on a piece covering good workouts for couples that we finally had the impetus to take that step. (My short piece will appear on AOL’s lemondrop blog later today, I believe.)

The first class was nowhere near as scary as I thought it would be. (What else is new.)

And just the other day, I showed my poo-cha-cha to a complete stranger, when I posed for an Intimate Portrait.

I had been wanting to challenge myself in that particular way ever since reviewing Andrew Einhorn’s Naked Happy Girls for SexHerald. I wanted to be as comfortable in my skin as the girls in Einhorn’s photographs seemed.

The experience was a good one, and now I have a collection of sketches, and one gorgeous painting to remember it by. I’m handing in an essay on my experience today, for publication on Nerve, and will also be writing it up for the Modern Materialist.

For those of you who were curious, I’m pasting some images from my portrait session down below. I’m just warning you now, because my nips are showing. If you don’t want to see my (sketched) nips, scan through quickly to the end.

This is me reading a book, whilst wearing my fuzzy Cookie Monster pants (yes, I totally posed in my Cookie Monster pants).

This is one of the poses we were considering for the final piece.

And speaking of the final piece…

Tada!!!

This past Friday, I was also contacted by two different people wanting me to come in for interviews: someone from an academic press calling about a marketing position, and someone from one of my favorite magazines (!) calling about an editorial position. In the end, I decided not to interview for either one. I like life just the way it is nowadays…

Before I get into the nitty gritty of this particular post, I’d like to link to my happy hour test drive post over at the Modern Materialist, in which I recount how some friends and I tried out some premixed shots two weekends ago.

You can get the lowdown on our evening there (though you can pretty much guess the outcome from the photo above).

Now that that’s taken care of…

…this might seem TMI, but Michael and I almost gave up on our marriage this past weekend.

I know. Sounds melodramatic. And there have certainly been times when I’ve been suffering from PMDD and forgot to take my Xanax and almost walked out…

But thinking about divorce? That’s actually nothing new for me, hormones out of whack or not.

Our courtship was a tumultuous one, partially because I was terrified of commitment, and partially because I was afraid of making a mistake that wouldn’t be a snap to reverse. As we started talking marriage, my shrink sessions became filled with discussions of that one persnickety question: How can I be sure?

In the end, I decided that I could never be sure, but that there were certain truths I knew to be self-evident:

• we had a similar moral code,
• we were both nonreligious,
• we both wanted children, and figured 2-3 would do just fine,
• family was important to both of us…
• …as was career fulfillment,
• and I sure did miss him when he wasn’t around.

Despite what my single friends may think, marriage doesn’t tie everything up neat and, even after the wedding (and now slowly approaching our two-year anniversary), I still have my doubts.

There are the spaces in our lives we don’t leave for each other. There are the times I feel he’s not listening, and the things he does that he doesn’t think I notice or appreciate. There is the stress of not having enough money, no matter how hard we work, and of never having the energy to connect, on a physical or emotional level.

The biggest thing, though? Wendy explained it beautifully in her essay on why women in relationships fantasize about other men. I’m not necessarily unhappy with Michael. I’m merely scared of a future that will never happen…an alternate life that will never be lived. Will I never live in Boston? Will I never live abroad? Is it too late to disappear into a writer’s retreat? Are there no more surprises waiting around the bend?

This past Saturday, we cried and screamed and I got a migraine and Michael finally said: “Is that it? … You have to decide. … You can’t keep torturing me.” And then he left me in the bedroom with my own conflicted thoughts.

And because of all he’s risked for me, and all he does for me, and how bereft I am without him, I eventually determined that no, our marriage was not a mistake.

Will the doubts come back? Perhaps.

But a marriage is a work in progress, and I have to believe that there are still some surprises waiting around the bend.

I had my doubts this past Sunday that 2009 was going to be any different from the end of 2008.

When Andrei and Alayna came over so that Andrei could take a look at Michael’s dead-in-the-water computer, I don’t think any of us had a clue that it would be a marathon, hours-long session, during which Alayna and I would have nothing to do but watch TV and eat chips, donuts, cookies, etc.

The discovery of Bingo America on the GSN was particularly exciting (as was Family Feud and a celebrity edition of So You Want to be a Millionaire) but, by late that evening, we were feeling pretty gross. Even worse, I was unable to start work on an article I had due later that week, or to stockpile any MM pitches. Incredibly inauspicious beginnings.

Things turned around quickly, though. I social-networked like crazy throughout the week, acquiring contacts that helped with my pitching. A former colleague of mine hired me to proofread his book manuscript. I wrote about unproductivity and its connections to work/life balance over at the Frisky, and saw my latest dating advice column go up at Nerve. I started looking for people for my latest Nerve piece: Dating Advice From…Jazz Musicians (fyi, I still need interviewees for this one!). All in all, the week was a productive one.

We capped it off by having Charlotte, Josh, Nicole, and Mike over for a Shot in the Dark party. Basically, I had received premixed shot samples to review for MM, and wasn’t about to sit at my desk by myself taking shot after shot like a lonely alcoholic. That and I only drink wine.

My review will go up next Friday but, for the moment, here’s some pics to whet your appetite with:

Other than all the work-related stuff (yes, boozing it up now counts as work), I’ve been puttering about the house, hanging up pictures like this one and this one. (This one is on the way.)

That and I’ve been enjoying the new mellowness of my cats on Valium.

To close out this post, I’d like to share with you a photo of Lusa in a too-tight sweater:

Over and out.

Hellooo!

::waves::

Anybody there?

I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. Since the Sun folded way back in September, I’ve become a total recluse. I’ve thrown myself into the Modern Materialist and Freelancedom, and limited most of my communications to Twitter. My most meaningful conversations have taken place between me and my three cats.

But this is a new year!

::confetti::

My resolutions, made to be broken:

• say yes to more
• have out at least 10 pitches at any given time
• move my fat ass
• become a Top Chef

Fingers crossed that 2009 surpasses 2008 in its awesomeness (2008 only sucked for the last few months).

I’ve already sent out five pitches, and Michael is dragging me to a NJ Blogger/Web Designer Meetup tonight. Let’s keep the momentum going, shall we?

How’s 2009 going for y’all?

Great. It’s been over a month now, and I can’t even begin to think of all the things I haven’t told you.

So instead, I’ll leave you with this holiday screen shot, and promise to do better in the new year:

Hello world! I haven’t been around much this week. Instead, I was having a nervous breakdown and watching my computer self-destruct! Wheee!

And the week started out so well! Nicole and I holed up in the condo on Sunday with Pizza Hut and wine, eventually moving on to chocolate and Drake’s cakes, maple bacon, and McDonalds. (How I didn’t gain any weight that day, I’ll never know.) It was so nice that, when Monday rolled around, I wasn’t ready for it.

Nor was I ready for Tuesday. I felt distracted, unmotivated, uninspired. I did my MM blogging at the speed of molasses, and with less frequency than usual. I spent my afternoons aimless. I demanded pie.

That very same day, my browser started acting…funny. When clicking on results in several Google searches, my browser took me to entirely different pages. I wondered if Google was having problems, and marveled that I hadn’t read anything about it. Image searches were working fine. I promptly forgot about it.

The next day, whilst attempting to work, my Internet connection kept going down. Every. five. minutes. I had gotten a late start to the day as it was, and had only managed to squeeze in three MM posts. I still had a Freelancedom post to work on, and mag pitches I wanted to develop. I sent Michael an irate e-mail, demanding that I be given a direct connection to the Internet (I was on a wireless card), explaining that my computer was — at the moment — my only means of making money in what was left of my shambles of a career. We spoke on the phone and I ended up sobbing about my lack of work, my almost-empty bank account, that paycheck that hadn’t come in the mail yet…My fear over my work situation was finally catching up to me. That night, convinced that I just needed a new wireless card (and perhaps a tranquilizer), Michael bought me a USB wireless adapter.

The next day, back at work on my computer, I noticed that my Internet was being slower than usual. I e-mailed Michael, explaining once again that I wasn’t satisfied with a wireless connection. Michael acquiesced, saying that we could return the adapter as long as we had the receipt. Where was the receipt? In the dumpster outside, in the bag that had been used that morning to take out the cat poop. I went outside in my pajamas and fished the bag-o-poop out of the very bottom of the otherwise-empty dumpster. By this point in my day, my e-mail exchanges with Michael were becoming more and more heated, and I was weeping every five minutes. I still had to go into the city for an interview at a staffing agency, and for a media happy hour. I obviously wasn’t up to it. I scheduled an emergency appointment with Dr. Jill.

I took a Xanax before my commute in, and managed to make it through my interview, though I didn’t feel entirely with-it. I went to my shrink appointment and cried some more. I decided that I was in no shape to be drunkenly charming at a social event, with people I would really prefer to make a good impression on, so I ended up going straight back to Jersey — conflicted as I was about it — and sleeping over my parents’ house. Both me and Michael felt we needed a break from each other.

By this point, I had realized it was my time of month. My PMDD was making my mood spiral out of control, especially since I had abruptly stopped taking my Yaz the month before. Since stopping my Lexapro awhile ago, the Yaz had been the only thing keeping me in check. Obviously, I had underestimated how much it was helping me.

The story since then? After returning home from my little sleepover at my parents’ place, the computer situation has worsened. I was unable to even start up the computer on Friday morning. My father came over, managed to get it started, and then was unable to uninstall the demon adapter from hell. He went home convinced that my computer had some sort of virus. When Michael came home, he was finally able to uninstall the damn adapter, and connect me to the Internet directly. This morning, however, I was once again unable to start up my computer. Turns out I did had a virus. Michael’s taking care of it. Both it and my mood are finally stable.

So here I am again!

The morals of this story?

Be on the lookout for early warning signs, whether they take the form of aimlessness and pie cravings or faulty web browsers.

Also, never stop your meds.

As per usual, weeks have gone by since my latest update. Perhaps I could get back into your good graces by posting these pictures of Lusa in my colander?

No? Let’s get on with it then. Since my last post, I’ve gotten another online clip. It’s another sex party piece, this time on how sex parties helped me overcome my intimacy issues. Now I’m just waiting for my Dating Advice From…Engineers piece to go up over at Nerve.

All this momentum is getting me even more motivated to pitch. For the longest time after the Sun folded, all I could think about was my dwindling bank account…the dying publishing industry…the lonely hours at home during the day. I’m still worrying about all of this, but I’m also taking advantage of the time I have now to be more proactive about my writing…and not just the blogging I was already doing.

Okay, that’s enough work-talk.

In other news, our Dia de los Muertos party the other weekend went off without a hitch. We had about 30 people crammed into our small, stifling-hot condo, and lots of good eats. I had my mom teach me how to make veal cutlets with lemon&garlic sauce, and potato pie. Lou brought a fabulous, lasagna-like Greek dish, Diane & Paul brought a delicious meatball soup, and Dena brought my beloved Arabian salad. Christina and Erika drove all the way down from Boston (!), and brought with them a delicious boxed red wine that I hogged for the entire week following the party. We also had some scrumptious desserts. (Charlotte’s) Josh made a yummy chocolate pudding pie, and my brother did up a peanut butter pie. There was more food, of course, but I can’t list it all. Suffice it to say that I ate well, and was thrilled to see a number of people that I hadn’t seen in quite some time (because I am now a hermit).

Since then, I’ve also gotten the haircut I’ve always wanted:

…so that I was then able to rock appearances at the NYC Sex Bloggers 2009 Calendar Release Party, and Chris Opperman’s 10 Years of Oppy Music show at Clash Bar in Clifton.

The calendar release party was just the other night, at the White Rabbit in Soho. The calendar was being sold to raise money to support Sex Work Awareness, an organization that trains sex workers in media skills and educates the public about issues that affect people who work in the sex industry. (You can still purchase a calendar here! They look awesome!) Calendar models included several awesome ladies I’m lucky enough to have made the acquaintance of: Audacia Ray (whom I originally met at one of her Safer Sex for Sluts workshops), Jamye Waxman (whom I was introduced to at my very first Abby Ehmann-hosted sexy soiree, where she was giving lessons in “sword-swallowing,” and Elizabeth Wood (whom I once interviewed for a Sex Advice From…Polyamorists piece over at Nerve). Aside from calendars and free lube, we were treated to burlesque performances, raffles, and homemade cookies. I also came home with this fun toy!

Chris Opperman’s show was just last night (I’m hoping to steal some photos from Lou at some point to post here), and was sort of like attending a high school reunion, without all the riffraff. He played a buttload of pieces from his very first album, in addition to a dramatic 15-minute piece that will appear on his forthcoming album. The music was as avant-garde and complex as ever. Lookit what I could’ve done with myself if I hadn’t stopped practicing the piano all those years ago.

Signing off for now. I have a pleasant late afternoon of pizza & wine planned with Nicole, and then my week gets uber-busy. Fingers crossed that I survive.

Last weekend was a rough one.

It started out with a package that USPS “tried” to deliver last Wednesday. As in they didn’t even both knocking on the door or ringing our doorbell, even though both me and Michael were home all day long, and instead left one of those cards in my mailbox, saying I needed to pick up my package at the post office. On Friday, I drove over to the post office specified on the card. Of course, our mail delivery guy had directed us to the incorrect post office, so I had to call around and finally drive to another post office.

By the time I got home, I was pretty annoyed, so it didn’t help when my cat sprayed me, getting pee all over the skirt I had put on for Amie’s birthday dinner later that evening. And then I went to make a sandwich and sliced my finger open.

Then, driving into Brooklyn, I had a panic attack and started sobbing because, lately, the trip into NY gives me a disturbingly visceral reaction.

The dinner, at Blue Ribbon Brasserie, was incredible (and incredibly expensive). I had lobster with butter sauce. Yummmm!!! I became sick afterwards and, on the way home, had to peel off the road into a gas station parking lot that happened to have a Dunkin Donuts.

There was no toilet paper.

After a ride home that was pure torture, I spent two hours in the bathroom.

For the rest of the weekend, I never quite recovered.

This week is looking up. Two days ago, I was pleasantly surprised by a phone interview (though I get the feeling I botched it up; I’m incredibly inarticulate on the phone). Then, later that same day, I found out that the two pieces I had written for Tango were both up. One was about how I’ve taken control of my finances since getting married, and the other was about what NOT to do at a sex party. By the next day, I had scored yet another writing assignment, this time from The Frisky.

I’m beginning to think that I should start pitching again more aggressively. Now that I have a bit of momentum going…

Now I’m excited for the weekend. Michael and I are throwing a party this Saturday for Dia de los Muertos, and I spent a good amount of time yesterday hanging garland, putting together goody bags, and shopping for eats. I hope everyone fits into our teeny-tiny condo!