30 March, 2009

Merde Alors

Apparently, when I did all that CHECK-ing I was getting a little ahead of myself.

I called the school Friday (the application deadline) to make sure they received all my application materials and was told that I was still missing a letter of recommendation. I had spoken with my professor a day earlier and she assured me that she would fax if over that same day. Promises, promises.

Since Friday, I have called her approximately 40 times, left 3 voicemails and 5 email messages. Her phone has gone directly to voicemail each time. Simultaneously, I've been calling the Graduate Department on the off chance that she faxed it in without telling me.

Head, meet table.

Is this a joke? Am I on Candid Camera? Quick, let's reveal the cameras so I can have a good laugh about this and go back to being able to sleep at night.

Possible permanent loss of mental sanity? CHECK.

Se mefier des cons et se confier aux mots

*Via I Love Paris

**50 jours!!**

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Scientific Match advertises:

Why pay matchmaker prices when you can have chemistry?

Our private, secure, personalized system will find you the most perfect matches possible.

ScientificMatch uses your DNA to maximize the chances of finding chemistry—actual, physical chemistry—with your matches. We look at your personal values to help you find a soul mate. And our in-depth background checks provide one of the safest—and most honest—places for your search.

We faithfully guard your DNA. Your genetic information is never made public—not even you can see it. Our CLIA/ASH-accredited lab never knows whose DNA it's analyzing, and it follows all HIPAA privacy guidelines. We only analyze a very few of your immune system genes—not your whole genetic makeup. And your DNA sample is destroyed after we’re done with it. Your genetic privacy is much more vulnerable when you get a haircut, or drink from a glass in a restaurant!

Whatever happened to the old days when people first met in person? I would never, ever do something like this. Part of falling in love (and lust) is the magic of that first meeting, the not-knowing. Sure, I may have avoided several heartbreaks if I dated through a DNA based system, but I'd like to someday tell my kids that mommy met daddy while dancing at a small Parisian bar (or whatever the case will be), not that mommy sent in her DNA and her test tube was matched with daddy's.

Would you ever consider trying something like this?

27 March, 2009

A Rose By Any Other Name...

I've always been envious of those girls who get flowers delivered to them at the office--mostly for special occasions, Valentines Day, anniversaries, etc. The only flowers I've ever had "delivered" to me were the ones my dad has bought me for every single birthday since I was little.

Well, although it is not a holiday, and although they were not from who I would expect to send me flowers, I got my own GORGEOUS bouquet delivered to my desk this afternoon. Always expect the unexpected.

Happy Friday!

26 March, 2009


Application form: CHECK
Two letters of recommendation: CHECK
Curicullum Vitae: CHECK
Admissions Essay: CHECK
Official Transcripts: CHECK

Obsessive checking and re-checking of all documents: CHECK

Fingers crossed: CHECK

24 March, 2009


I am so tired of being that person who everyone relies on and yet not having anyone to rely on myself.

It's called give and take, not give and give and give and give.

Must. Learn. To. Say. NO.

23 March, 2009

Chuckle, Chuckle

Dear Anait,

Remember the joy you used to feel when you'd find a quarter lying in the street?

And how exciting it was when you got older and found a crumpled $20 bill in the pocket of a pair of jeans you hadn't worn in months?

Well brace yourself, Anait, because the day isn't far off when in-between taking naps, swimming laps, and doing the routine happy dance, you'll be busy gathering documents for your tax return preparer and suddenly you'll find a statement to a bank account you don't even remember opening, with more than enough money in it to do whatever it is your heart now longs to do.

You do trip us out.

Sure enough,
The Universe

Oh, Universe. You make me chuckle.

If only you knew how many dreams I've had about that hidden bank account I don't remember opening. Unfortunately, what I do remember is the total in the bank account I am fully aware exists.

You've got a lot of work to do, Universe.

20 March, 2009

Մեր սիրո աշունը

Դու կարծում ես այդ անձրևն է Արտասվում պատուհանիդ,
Այդ ափսոսանքի խոսքերն են Գլորվում հատիկ–հատիկ
Գլորվում են ու հոսում են,Ապակուց թափվում են ցած,
Այս խոսքերը,որ լսվում են
Իմ երգի մեջ ուշացած

Ու՞մ է պետք խոստովանանքդ,Ափսոսանքդ ուշացած,
Սերը քո մի հանելուկ էր Ու գաղտնիք էր չբացված

Դա գուցե աշնան կատակն էր,Տերևներն էին դեղնած,
Ծառուղում լուռ արտասվում էր
Մի աղջիկ՝ մենակ կանգնած

Ես հիմա նոր հասկանում եմ՝ Անցյալը ետ չես բերի,
Այս ամենը հատուցումն է Իմ գործած հին մեղքերի

Այն աղջիկը և աշունը Բախտն էր իմ,որ կորցրի,
Դա ջահել իմ խենթությունն էր, Որ երբեք ինձ չեմ ների

Ես գիտեմ՝ երջանկությունը Մի անգամ է այցելում,
Իսկ հետո,երբ հեռանում է,
Այցետոմսն է իր թողնում

Ու հետո, ամբողջ կյանքում մեր
Մենք նրան ենք որոնում,
Այն հասցեն, որ նա թողնում է,
Երբեք ոչ ոք չի գտնում

Do you think the rain’s been drumming on your window all day long?
It’s the words of my repentance, falling down drop by drop.
See them, rolling down the glass and down into the endless brine;
Words that only you can hear in this belated song of mine.

What is this confession now, overdue regret, - for what?
Love has always been a riddle that I could not decode.
It was autumn that was mocking, slapping me with faded leaves,
And the girl that kept on weeping silently among the trees.

Only now I understand: the past shall not be back again.
It’s for sins that I’ve committed that I’m being made to pay.
For that weeping girl, that autumn, are the fortune that I’ve lost.
Heedless deeds of a wild youth are what I now regret the most.

We all know that happiness can only come a single time.
It then promptly disappears, leaving its business card behind.
We then seek it everywhere, we go on looking all our lives,
But the address on the card is one that no man ever finds.

19 March, 2009


Someday, I will call a place like this home. Someday.

And while I'm dreaming, how about a summer home here

16 March, 2009

Neverland (Never Again)

She opens the letter he sent, her fingers trembling. As she unfolds the pages, she remembers the touch of his skin, the way his silly jokes and outlandish games made her throw her head back in laughter and just for a minute, she feels a longing so intense she can hardly breathe. She slides the letter back into the envelope without reading it.

She stands by the window. The breeze blows through the open shutters, ruffling her hair as she closes her eyes, lost in memories. Images of pillow fights, the way he’d put his arm around her as they walked, the way he’d brush her hair out of her eyes fill her mind. The way he’d look at her, with sorrow filled eyes and an apology at his lips, when they argued. Oh! The arguments!

She opens here eyes as her pulse races. Anger makes her blood flow faster as she remembers the lies, the secrets. She remembers how it felt to have her heart shattered into a million pieces, each a jagged shard provoking piercing pain anytime she took a breath.

She tears the envelope into pieces and drops them out of the window, watching them flutter onto the ground, little confetti pieces of her past.

Yes, Neverland was magical and the Lost Boy even more so. But there is nothing magical about a broken heart.

Better to live in the real world and find true love than to live in Neverland and play make-believe.

Hello, Handsome

Meet me at the Jardin de Luxembourg. You bring the wine, I'll bring the blanket and les sandwiches.

65 days. Really? Only five days have gone by since I last counted?

12 March, 2009

Book Nerd

Last night I discovered a used-book bookstore a mere two minutes walk from my apartment.

This is a major discovery for a book nerd like me. I devour books, it's a habit I must have acquired when I was little. My mom would spend hours reading to me and, the minute I learned to read myself I was the local library's number one customer. By the age of five, I had most of Pushkin's well-known poetry memorized, and by the age of twelve I had read most of what the literary world calls "classics" (although it is not until I re-read those books when I was older that I truly appreciated them).

Books make up a large part of my life. I could never be in a relationship with a man who is not as passionate about literature as I am, and I am always vaguely dissapointed when I meet someone who doesn't like reading. To me, that is unfathomable. Books have the power to transport you away. For a few hours, you are part of the cast,invested in the characters as if they were part of your reality. What girl doesn't want to be a medeival maiden for a day, a queen, or an explorer, a gypsy, an FBI agent...the possibilities are endless.

I no longer go to the library because with the amount of late fees I was accruing, the library was not really "free".

Instead, I spend hours and hours in bookstores. And the bookshelves stuffed full in my apartment are a testament to my inability to leave the stores without purchasing a book.

Not only is the bookstore I discovered within walking distance of my house, but it

a) is HUGE. Four stories, shelves upon shelves filled with books on all kinds of subjects, in every imaginable subject.

b) serves coffee

c) is open until 1am everday


11 March, 2009

The Waiting Game

I have come to learn the hard way that refreshing my e-mail screen twenty times a minute does not increase the chances of receiving an email. Correction: it does not increase the chances of receiving THE email.

Plenty of junk mail with each click of the "refresh" button.

Unfortunately I am not interested in pranic healings to tune my vibrations, penile enlargements or attending the Pheonix Online School of Business.

70 Days

70 days left until...

10 March, 2009

Mi Fai Schifo

Maledetto me che sto morendo per un attimo di vento,
Perdo tutto in un momento e proprio questo sono stanca
Di donare confidenza a chi invence non ti pensa et ti abbandona come merda

E non sa cos’e il rancore se ti va dagli un ceffone
Comunque meglio non chiamare anche se soffre come un cane

E’un amico che non vale

E come dirlo allora che non serve darsi addosso e farsi male,
Male veramente
Quello che ti insegna e non ti fa capire niente, rende inutili.

Usami, usami quand vuoi
Usami, usami e dopo buttami.

*picture found here

09 March, 2009

I Like to Move It, Move It

One of my resolutions for 2009 is to care less about what other people think. I've stuck to it so far, and its been incredibly liberating. When I get ready in the mornings, I pick out what I will wear for the day based on how I feel, what makes ME feel good rather than thinking "what will other people think when they see me?". When I'm out dancing with my girlfriends, I don't care about how stupid I look, or if I'm singing too loudly or dancing outrageously.

Because honestly, one day (hopefully very, very far away), when I'm lying on my deathbed, I doubt I will be thinking about whether or not that hottie at that one bar was impressed with my dancing. But I WILL remember how good it felt to let loose, shake my hair out of the ponytail and climb up onto that bar!

"When you consider something like death, after which (there being no news flash to the contrary) we may well go out like a candle flame, then it probably doesn't matter if we try too hard, are awkward sometimes, care for one another too deeply, are excessively curious about nature, are too open to experience, enjoy a nonstop expense of the senses in an effort to know life intimately and lovingly. It probably doesn't matter if, while trying to be modest and eager watchers of life's many spectacles, we sometimes look clumsy or get dirty or ask stupid questions or reveal our ignorance or say the wrong thing or light up with wonder like the children we all are..." --Diane Ackerman in A Natural History of the Senses

05 March, 2009

Hakuna Matata, Continued

"Feel the smile stretching across your face, notice the lightness in your step, hear the sparkle in your voice"....

I stepped outside for lunch today, and, for the first time in the past six months, I wasn't wearing a winter coat! No jacket at all. Finally, it feels like spring. ITS ABOUT TIME.

As I crossed the bridge over the river, the water was sparkling, a warm breeze ruffled my hair and I felt so ALIVE. New season, new me. I have so much to look foward to in the next few months, and with this unexpected warm weather I feel on top of the world.

Hakuna Matata, indeed.

Hakuna Matata

Simply imagine happiness, Anait, your own happiness. Feel the smile stretching across your face, notice the lightness in your step, hear the sparkle in your voice, and all things, material and spiritual, will dance to the beat of your drums.

Happy Thursday!
The Universe

Click here to get your own notes from the Universe! Thanks for the link, Tina

03 March, 2009

You Can't Buy Class

Dear Prince Charming,

Last week, I went to a sports bar by my house. I normally don't frequent sports bars except for during futbol season when I take every chance I get to see Cristiano Ronaldo looking fabulous, but my friends lured me in with promises of serious eye candy. Don't worry, you're still on top of my list, but a girl's gotta keep herself entertained somehow.

I was standing by the bar when a group of rowdy guys came up to order drinks. As they pick up their beers, one of them turns to the others and announces, with arms open wide and a booming voice, "Let's go find some hoes!".

Do you see what I have to work with??

I'm not sure how much longer I can take this, Prince Charming. Can we fast-forward to the day when I buy a one-way ticket and you meet me at the airport. I'll drop my bags and run towards you, arms outstretched as you catch me and twirl me around (see: no chocolate rule). Can we skip all the in-between dating, heartbreak and desperation? I'd just like my Happily Ever After please. Sooner, not later.


02 March, 2009


An American writer once wrote,"Secrets are things we give away for others to keep"

I recently stumbled upon a project that has been going on for a few years now. Postcards are left in random places all over cities and whoever picks one up is asked to write a secret on it and mail it in. Some are over-the-top soap opera quality secrets, but it is the simple ones, the honest, heartfelt secrets that really touch me. Sometims we keep things to ourselves, afraid that exposing our emotions or secret thoughts will cause us to be branded or judged. But we all have the same fears, the same thoughts and, sometimes, the same secrets.

We pass them on in an effort to make our burden lighter. A burden shared. We are all keepers of secrets--we keep our own and we take in those of our friends, our relatives and even those of strangers.

*all secrets courtesy of http://www.postsecretarchive.com/

Easier Said Than Done

People are often unreasonable,
irrational, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse
you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some
unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere
people may deceive you;
Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating
others could destroy overnight;
Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness,
some may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today,
will often be forgotten.
Do good anyway.

Give the best you have,
and it may never be enough;
Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis,
it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

by Mother Teresa