I've been watching old shocking tater tarts videos and now I wish you were awake and we could drink and record and swim in roth pond. I want you to know that my plans in life are to follow you around like a puppy. one day I'll write you a novel. you are amazing and inspiring and you have cute ears. I'm drinking beer. that's all.

Yes, I know what you mean. Come to Stony Brook and let's cuddle and eat ice cream. See you in 20 minutes!

Perfetto

Tonight was wonderful.

Always look up.

I hope I have the courage tomorrow.

You make me cry, but in a good way. Thank you for allowing us to be what we used to be. Sosososo much to come from us. You are the icing to my Oreo cookie.

I heart you sososososo much. I'm kind of drunk. But still so much heart. Sunday <3 Or maybe today, but it looks like it's going to rain and so mini golf seems unlikely/absurd/implausible/unlikely/far off/distant/dubious/slight/not likely.

I'm working on my synonyms.

Anyways, I just meant to say I heart you so much. I realized in my response to Arthur I took one step back (as per your "LOL"), but then I took two forward.

Dear Betty,
I bought you an adobe inspired house in San Jose. It looks like it was molded from clay by stubby fingered monkeys. There is a lovely rose garden in the yard and the Sun sets directly into the chimney. The air outside smells like birthdays and there is a beautiful vineyard that is walking distance from the house. It's really quite nice. The only hitch is that there is a minor gnome infestation. It's rooted in the garden but slowly they infiltrated the wine cellar and pushed their way up to the attic. They are harmless creatures, but they are overtly mischievous and really can create a whirl storm of chaos.
With the house, I have purchased a short guide to aid you in dealing with these pesky gnomes. The main point illustrated in the guide is cooperation over antagonism. If you oppose them, they will make your life difficult. If you accept their antics as warm-hearted tugs of fate, your life really will become rather amusing.
I will soon write you a letter describing in greater detail the nature of these kooky gnomes. Until then, hope all is well in New York.
Do write back soon,
Marie

Floop

You wrote that so good! This is going to be written poorly because I'm rushing it in between projects. The life of a working woman!

I so entirely forgive you for talking smack, it doesn't even need to be brought up. Two reasons why:
1. The people you told don't matter. I'm not sure if we talked about that yet, but if not you can ask Marina. I really just don't care. If we didn't talk about it soberly yet, we should Sunday (I have a baby naming at some point that I have to go to first... some Jewish thing).
2. I've done it. Maybe not about you (then again about you), so I know how incredibly easy it is to get swept into that culture when you are around it. I don't know why I'm being vague. When you are around these specific people, it's so easy to get wrapped up in it. Maybe it's something to do with human nature. I just added a gossiping book to my Wish List. I'd let you read it when I'm done if you buy me a house in San Jose.

Yet, while I'm all for letting go, I also readily admit that my personality makes me feel the need to say how I feel about situations. There are so many things I could and want to say to Arthur, but don't. Yet with something like cheating on my boyfriend--not saying anything to anyone doesn't really seem to make sense. I'm not ranting or bitching to people, I'm correcting an image of myself. Something I have the right to do. Just as much as I told you that you were wrong, Arthur needs to be told he is--because it has to do with me.

As far as the reseponse. Well, I don't like him. I think he has serious issues and so, yes, I am hesitant when Marina or you or anyone I know is around him. Historically it never ends well for either party and while I wish I didn't care if people talk about me, he is often a huge part of the initiation. But he can live his life, and I can live mine. We operate in such completely different and separated worlds it baffles me how and why he told anyone ANYTHING about me. I'm tired of living a life where I have to worry about what my friends are saying about me, or spending too much time fighting and being angry.

Recently I've become so close with Daisy, Kelly (the girl from Florence that I told you you would love, but she never ended up leaving New Mexico), Corey (yes, Corey), and maybe one or two other random ass people. NONE of them are truly friends with one another. We're not all one huge circle of gossip and disloyalty. Even if we were, I would never in a million years think if I turned my back, I couldn't trust them.

Working 70 hours a week leaves little time for me to care. Mix that in with not being around that group of unbelievably warped, untrustworthy renegades--I've had time to breathe. So believe me when I say: I'm so over it.

P.S. This font gets more ridiculous with every post.

On that note, I should give you a heads up that a couple months ago I drunkenly mentioned the Florence blog to Arthur, which is probably what he's referring to. I'm sorry :(

Anyway, good response! But I think it's better not to waste your breath.
For some reason we forgot that friendship is not supposed to be like this. Our friends don't exist so that we can constantly struggle for their approval and wonder what they're saying about us behind our backs. Everyone talks shit about everyone and no one is safe. It's hard not to get caught up in.
My logic for ending our friendship was that if you have a lot of bad things to say about someone that you can't say to their face, then a healthy, functional friendship is not possible. Of course I eventually realized that the root of my animosity towards you was a pleasant mixture of insanity and preoccupation with the past, but in terms of everyone else...well, the phrase "let go" carries a lot of weight.
I've heard a lot of people say a lot of things about you, and I'm embarrassed to say that I participated.
I was never that person, and I don't know why I waited until adulthood to become that person. But I learned a lot from reflecting on how I was acting. After you directly told me you did not cheat on Steve I should have taken it on your good faith for two reasons:
1. you're my friend
(and most importantly) 2. it's none of my god damn business!
The stupid thing is, if these people were actually concerned about you cheating on Steve, they would have told Steve instead of EVERYONE ELSE. Your alleged infidelity really just became a source of entertainment rather than a source of moral high ground.
Someone ought to write a book on the principles of friendship. What these people have created is closer to a circle of critics than a circle of friends.

You used to be one of my favorite people, before all the bad things happened, and then you were one of my least favorite people and I treated you like a used condom. But I can safely say that in the past few weeks you have been restored to the position of "one of my favorite people" because I finally remembered what was so great about our friendship and more importantly what was so great about you.
My retrotransformed definition of friendship: pumpkin carving, haunted houses, movie nights, hibachi grills, shared love of things like puppies and wine, pot luck, philosophical drivel, exploration (not sexual), cooking, marshmallows roasting in the open fire, honesty, macaroni and cheese, christmas.

These people are only weighing you down. The world is so much bigger and greater than all of them.

Why Are There No Dates On This Blog?

Brief synopsis: When I went to David's party I noticed Arthur lost weight. So I said "You lost a lot of weight!" And he said "What do you mean?" and I said "You're not as fat anymore!" Because I always joke about being fat I'm desensitized and removed from the fact that some people might take it offensively. He didn't, but he did then go around and tell Kaitlyn and Amy I called him fat, which makes me think he cared at least a little. Whatever.

Andrew Kirschner
Sorry for calling you fat. I don't remember defriending you. Did you defriend me because I called you fat? You're not fat. I'm fat.

Arturo Kozlov
I didn't defriend you. Honestly, I wasn't even phased that you said that. You're Andrew. You do these things. You write blogs about it. It's just how you are. You do such immature and rude things that you don't even realize it. You haven't changed... yet.

Andrew Kirschner
Lol wait what? I don't even have a blog what are you talking about?

Andrew Kirschner
I wish the logical side of my personality was a bit stronger.

I don't think you "know" me well enough to make that last accusation. Possibly I missed something and you secretly bonded with me, learned all about me and my thoughts, and who I am as a person. What most probably happened, though, is that based upon a few drunken nights, a lot of behind-the-back talking (on both sides), and a brief yet completely deranged romance, you formed a solid opinion of me based mostly on superficial speculation. I understand how easy it is to jump to opinions of who I am, what I do, why I do what I do, so on and so forth.

But let me just make something relatively clear; and I'll do it in a way that is unmistakable and in a way we've rarely interacted--I'm just going to tell you.

I have changed. So much, in fact, that the other day when I walked into a party and saw you I said "Hello!" and made an attempt at casual conversation and a compliment. Now, admittedly (see: above), my compliment came out more as a joke and less as actual flattery. Regardless of whether it "phased" you or not, I apologize. If you need an example or, what you are more likely seeking, proof that I am different from the rambunctious, gossiping, drunken (just kidding I am still such a lush) queen I was 2 years ago: that is it.

Why is that proof? Because instead of walking into the party and punching you in the face for effectively spreading a rumor to my best friends that I cheated on my boyfriend, I kept my mouth shut, my mind open, and said "Hello!" What I really wanted to do (and still do) is loudly ask you why you would spread something that:
1. Had nothing to do with you.
2. You had no evidence of other than Eric telling you himself.
3. To many of my extremely close friends. Did I miss something and "our" friends are notorious for keeping their mouths shut?

You don't have to answer any of the above questions or even respond to them. Because, like I told you, I have changed. While I can sit here and call you out on the hypocrisy and arrogance of your "rude and immature" actions, I'd prefer to remain cerebrally (can that be an adverb?) neutral. 'Cause, you see... *I* truly don't give a fuck... yet.

Dear Andrew. It's 3 AM and I'm on the brink of insanity. I've determined that if I keep my bladder perpetually full it will prevent me from falling asleep, lest I pee the bed. I am fearful I will fall asleep soon, and rather than just having to deal with an F in life, I will have to deal with an F in life and P on my sheets. I don't have time to do laundry. I'm old, and I'm tired. and I have to pee.
We ordered dominos and it smells like feet. Marina is asleep and she sounds like a furnace. She is wearing a sleep mask and I want to take a picture but I am too old, and too tired.
My paper is really bad. almost as bad as if I fell asleep and peed the bed. worse maybe. I'm going to go pee.

I promise it's cumming. summer finals week is murderous.

wait this is from Florence! I remember this. I love the voices. I'll be recording Part II very soon.

The Best Part Is How Long and Not Funny It Is

And that Steve was sitting on the bed two feet from me, and still loves me.

And that this was only Part One.

I wrote a 6 minute story in 3 minutes while I was drunk.

Go back to these days? Yes, yes.

http://ge.tt/9FJCLe6?c

P.S. I'm keeping the job for now. The income and business keeps me from thinking too much. Soon something will come around. But, I'm 100% leaving New York. I've exhausted it.

P.P.S. Maybe you should write and record Part Two? Just a thought. Though I know Part One will be extraordinarily hard to beat. Just saying.

I feel like I gypped you with my response but mind you, I thought really long and hard and couldn't come up with anything else to say. Recently I've come to terms with how unwise I really am, and so if I was pretending to be wise I would tell you that if there's something wrong wrong you should fix it. If I was being realistic I would tell you how silly it would be to quit this job because even if it's making you miserable, you're probably making more money than 99% of the young college graduates I've ever been acquainted with and in the Western world, which even Europe belongs to, money facilitates action. Without money, you're immobile. Unless you're into hitchhiking and camping as a lifestyle. Conversely, you might consider becoming a buddhist. Then you could stare at bristling trees to your heart's content.

Oh my god this font is so stupid. What was I snorting when I designed this page?

Rose

How long do you think you will last? It sounds worse than Canon...

Lilly

My job is awfully intense. I work in a team of 5, the whole department is 15, and equivalent of a 72-person staffed team. You would think that means we get paid more and you're not right.

I work in media planning. Some creative people somewhere out there ideate and create a commercial that you see on your television screen during a Glee episode on April 12, 2011 at 8:15 PM. We're the people that put it there--to reach young, weird girls who enjoy a mix of talent-inspired television dramas and uber-hot men with their shirts off. Except I don't "do" commercials. I operate within the Internet. All those annoying banner ads that you see, but never click: I put them there. I don't actually put them there, our vendors do. But we purchase the space by the millions and tell our publishers to put this ad, on this type of site, at this time. It's disgusting.

I'm learning a lot, I'm making a lot. I also have no work-life balance, and I long for the days I get to sit outside and watch a tree bristle in the wind. That only happens 2 days a week, because from 8:30am - 7:30pm every day I am locked inside an office building in dirty, dirty New York City with no lunch break. At least I have money.

A lot of it is strategy; we have to figure out who will use this product, what type of website they visit, and attempt to drive them there. You'd be surprised how much it works. You'd be less surprised to find out how much I don't give a shit. When the NFL gives me and my partner $1 million to spend on banner ads, I want to take the NFL by their nuts and show them 1. How much it doesn't work and 2. How much they could do with that money if they only had half a brain to stop relying on analytics and metrics.

That's the other part of the job: we track. When you visit OrganicPeanuts.com and then go to Facebook and see an ad for peanuts, it's because my team "cookied" you and tracked your movements to populate ads into everywhere you go. This is all under the belief that you will then click on the ad and then "convert." Again, I don't care. But, again, I'm making money and have a job.

There are many other things I do, none of which are particularly interesting. But what IS interesting is looking around at the way my business operates, and especially the people. No one seems to bat an eye about the irrelevance of the work they are doing or that we spend upwards of $100 million a year on commercials, banner ads, and generally useless shit that consumers don't want to see anymore. But, again, I'm making money and have a job.

I HATE IT GET ME OUT