i'll drink to that.

sAvE daRfUr. i think benefits are one of the greatest things ever. you get to help out a cause you believe in while helping yourself to a good time, usually in the form of alcohol. tonight i am going to a benefit show. save darfur gets $10 from me (or whatever portion of my $10 admission northsix hands over to them, maybe not the full 100%, but, really, this is beside the point) and i get to see stars (meaning the band, not celebrities, or celestial bodies for that matter)? and i don't have to feel guilty if i happen to get drunk at this show on a tuesday night because *it's for a good cause*?? i think i might get the better end of the deal here.
on a more serious note, though, i am more than happy to be able to support a human rights campaign this evening, in whatever small way. i have gotten away from that in recent years and i keep meaning to really do something about it and reinvolve myself. when i was younger i was involved in amnesty international - and if you call being the leader of my high school's chapter heavily involved, then, okay, i was heavily involved in amnesty international when i was younger. it got away from me in college, largely because i was too wrapped up in my conservatory training and there just weren't enough hours in the day to wander beyond the walls of 855 commonwealth avenue and seek out other extracurricular activities. and then i was out of college and trying to balance making money to pay rent and pursuing artistic and theatrical endeavors on the side . . . and not reinvolving myself with amnesty international just became a vicious circle of excuses and guilt and laziness. okay, i admit it. i'm lazy. sometimes. it's silly, i should just make time for it. it's not that hard and i might actually do someone somewhere in some small corner of this world some good. yes, the chances are slim that any particular letter you write through one of amnesty's letter writing campaigns is actually going to end a particular human rights abuse, but, put your cynicism aside, those letters do get read, at least from time to time. sometimes they even get direct responses. one morning during my junior year in high school as i sat in homeroom, someone from the main office dropped off a piece of mail which had come in care of the school marked to my attention. it was a letter. from a government official in venezuela. assuring me, 16 year old julia in suburban andover, massachusetts, that they had not violated the human rights of a certain prisoner of conscience as i had accused them in my previous correspondence. it was a surreal and life altering moment. you can make a difference. you can get the attention of someone on another continent. with something as simple as a letter.
what is my problem? i'm done being lazy and selfish. it's time to do more. (than just drink while watching a band i particularly like.)

and on a random note - no matter what context i read, hear, or say the word *stars*, i am immediately and unforgivably bombarded with the memory of a high school chorus trip to disney world in florida, melting under a hideous polyester choral robe in the glaring sun and sweltering humidity, and listening to a rendition of "stars" from les miserables that i would gladly surrender my first born for in order to get out of my memory performed with what can only be described as machine gun like vibrato and an extra special level of showmanship reserved only for the likes of a performance venue as special as disney world. this was done by a young man who, on the same trip, attempted to climb up the water slide at the hotel. to set the scene for you, in other circumstances, this boy would have considered crossing the street moderate to heavy exercise. not surprisingly, he was unsuccessful in his attempt to scale the water slide, fell down, broke his arm, and wailed like a baby. during which he may have hit some of the high notes he missed during his performance of stars.

not all weekends are created equal

nOt YoUr aVeRaGe sAtUrDaY. i can see the monday morning chit chat around the office now. "and what did you do this weekend, julia?" "oh, you know, carried a futon frame and mattress from one apartment to another 4 blocks and 4 flights of stairs away with just 2 other girls, did yoga next to a guy in a giant pink furry penis costume, signed a lease on a new apartment . . ."

did you just say giant pink furry penis costume? yes, i did. mtv showed up at my bikram studio yesterday afternoon looking to shoot some footage for a new sketch comedy show. evidently one of this guy's characters is a giant penis. look for it july 1 on mtv 2, maybe you'll see me in my sweaty yoga clothes looking, well, like i had just been through 90 minutes in a 115 degree room, because i had. they showed up after our 12pm class, and i had actually made it into the shower in the locker room and was about to put on my clean, dry clothes to go home when we were approached about participating. so i did what is only logical and put back on my yoga outfit, which was drenched completely in sweat, and grabbed my mat, ready to go. now if that is not desperation to get my sorry ass on television any way, any how, i don't know what is.

and, yes, i also said signed a lease. the sublets and apartment hopping officially come to an end june 1st when meghan and i move into our new apartment in williamsburg. we are burg bound and frigging ecstatic. the space is great, the location is great, we are lucky girls.

love in an elevator.

tHiRd WhEeL. this morning i had an interesting ride in the elevator. as usual, it was packed when i got on. and, as usual for a thursday morning when i come to the office straight from the bikram yoga studio, i get more than one curious look from my fellow riders who don't seem to be able to understand me, my soaking wet hair, and the array of bags i've got hanging off of my limbs. and, as is also usual, the majority of the crowd exits on the first couple of stops we make. leaving just a guy who works for the hedge fund on the 31st floor, a girl who works for dolby on the 32nd floor, and me. clearly, homeboy has decided this is privacy enough to commence flirting with little miss 32nd floor. or perhaps i should say to resume, because it is clear from his opening line that they've had conversations in elevators before. he specifically opens by asking her about her new position. she is surprised (and impressed) he remembers. by the way - she is really liking the step up, though a little tired of training the new girl, and wishing this week would pass quickly because the new girl is away and so she is covering for her, which she is anxious to be done with (in case you care). she clearly remembers less from their last interaction so needs to take a step back and ask him, "wait, who do you work for again?" he tells her about the hedge fund on the 31st floor. some flirtatious banter ensues about whether or not they hear the ruckus the dolby folks make right above them on the 32nd floor. ha ha ha. cute cute cute. meanwhile, i'm stuck in the corner on the other side of the elevator trying to blend into the stainless steel panel of buttons and go unnoticed. which actually doesn't seem to be a problem because neither of them even acknowledges my existence. talk about being the third wheel.
but, i think, aside from having a few minutes of total awkwardness while i had to just stand there, not more than a few inches away from these two, while they had their moment, i may have witnessed the start of something this morning. that's kind of sweet. for them. but what about me? when the hell is it my turn?

i smell a rat(zinger)

aN oPeN mInD. so they elected a new pope. benedict xvi. let's see, benny is not only opposed to women as priests, but also feminism in general, which he sees as "ignoring biological differences" (damn, these breasts make it so hard for me to think, let alone do any work). he is against artificial birth control, including the use of condoms to prevent the spread of HIV and AIDS. he condemns homosexuality and any efforts to recognize and legalize same sex unions (if it's not a wedding and against natural moral law, do i still have to get my sister and andi a wedding present?). he is against stem cell research (sorry michael j. fox, you're gonna have to learn to live with that twitch) and euthenasia. don't even get him started about abortion. and, oh, that's right, catholicism is in competition with islam.
this guy sounds like a gem, i think he and i would get along famously.

do you know where those hands have been?

gRoSs. so my office is on the 27th floor of our building and we share this floor with a law firm and a dental office. we also share the restrooms on this floor. and the female hygienists from the dentist's office do not wash their hands after they go to the bathroom. ?@!?#$??!? that is absolutely disgusting. and disturbing when you consider that they more or less have their hands in peoples' mouths all day long. not in my mouth, thank god. but, still, you might want to check out where your dentist's hands have been . . .

am i really seeing this?

pArEnTaL aDviSorY. this morning i had to be at the office to put out breakfast for an 8:00am investor meeting. which meant having to stop and buy the bagels, muffins, juice, milk etc. on my way to the office, allowing myself enough time, once i got here, to get it all set up and get the coffee made by about 7:50am, just in case this group showed up early. this is all really neither here nor there, just explains how i found myself crammed onto the f train at 7:12am and looking for a point of focus other than the extreme morning breath of the guy to my left and the staring issue of the man directly across from me, so i did what i too often do and turned my head to the side and down and began reading what the girl on my right was reading. it was one of those books that does not have the author printed at the top of one page and the title on the other. and i couldn't get a glimpse of the cover. so i was in the dark as to what it was i was about to read. she was at the beginning of a chapter, which was titled "1529", as in the year i assume. the chapter started with something about anne doing to percival everything she promised. percival? great, a historical novel was my first thought. it wasn't capturing my interest (why couldn't this stupid girl be reading something better?) so i looked over to the top of the next page only to find, much to my surprise, "i was his whore . . . when he would lie on his back, i would climb on top of him and kiss down from his mouth to his parts . . . then i would put him in my mouth and suck on it." ?!@??! this was no historical novel. this was historical smut. at 7 o'clock in the morning? isn't it a little early for that? i felt dirty and violated reading about oral sex, medieval oral sex at that, first thing in the morning, before i had even had a conversation with anyone. and to think, just a minute earlier i took one look at the year 1529 and the name percival and resented this girl, wishing she was reading something more interesting. i think i am supposed to be learning some sort of lesson here. like careful what you wish for. or don't judge a book by its cover. or don't read a book unless you've seen its cover - or at least its title.

can you say refund?

cHecK pLeAsE. that's right, april 15th is just around the corner. okay, it's this friday. and today, with a swift pull on the door of the mailbox at 6th ave & w. 55th street and some postage borrowed from the office postal meter, i sent in my tax returns. now i have little to do but sit back, relax, and wait for the refunds to hit my checking account. this gives me a little time to weigh the options of what to do with this sweet chunk of change coming my way. hmmm...decisions, decisions...a responsible person my age might consider a small investment somewhere. nope, not me - too responsible, too boring, and no immediate gratification. i'm thinking laptop. though a new spring/summer wardrobe would be nice. laptop, wardrobe. laptop, wardrobe. well, i clearly have some things to think about and a tough call ahead of me. the odds are in the laptop's favor. but i'll keep you posted.
in the meantime, i will feel moderately guilty in the coming weeks that, once again, i let this tax thing get down to the wire. i will reprimand myself for not pulling it together earlier. and i will remind myself that, had i done so, i would already have my refund and my laptop. or wardrobe. or trip perhaps? no, laptop. in my possession. and i will make vows to be better next year. to start organizing as soon as the w-2's and 1099's and all that crap starts coming in the mail in january. i will swear to get an early start in 2006. i will promise myself that i will make it happen. but, really, those promises will be empty. when it comes to taxes, i am destined to be last minute lucy. i can't help it. i may not know what i want to do with my refund, but i know that i won't change.

my life in makeup, a misguided journey.

aU nAtuRaL. this morning my mind was full of random memories and trains of thought. like when i was putting on my makeup (which i did kneeling on the bedroom floor, using the tiny ass mirror on my compact, frantically searching for all the brushes and products and whatnot i had thrown haphazardly into my yoga bag for tonight's class, with no lights on because, well, i was running late and figured the time to go over and turn on the light and then the time to go back and turn it off when i was done would just be too much) i could not help but think about the very first "how to put on makeup" lesson i received. it was elementary school, around this time of year, in fact, and i'm guessing something about the april morning sunshine and the sound of kids arriving at school across the street from my apartment helped bring this memory to mind, and we were having one of those career day fair type things when assorted parents and community members were paraded through to empart their knowledge upon us and hopefully inspire us to be great things when we grew up (at this point i had moved past my phase of wanting to grow up to be mary magdalene, had survived a long-lived fascination with becoming an archaelogist/paleontologist which i had asserted in an essay on the topic that i could do because "even though i'm a girl, i can be anything i want to be. my mom told me so," and was currently considering stardom/acting, the law, and medicine). the makeup lesson came from a mrs. cunningham who worked for elizabeth grady, had a daughter mary who was a year older than me and a daughter kelly who was a year younger, and who wore her makeup like today might be the very last chance she got. mrs. cunningham, with her overly painted face (you know the type: the orange line of foundation, the obvious layer of powder, the green green eyeshadow caked and caught in the creases of the eyelids, the black gunky mascara, the thick black eyeliner, the maroon cheeks, the bright red lipstick), told us that there was only one rule we needed to know about makeup: THE TRICK IS TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE YOU ARE NOT WEARING ANY. yep, i learned from a pro. in other words, don’t judge me too harshly if i look like shit, it’s not my fault, it’s mrs. cunningham's.

the fenway faithful.

rInG iT uP. the boston red sox finally received their world series rings today in the home opener at fenway park. beautiful weather, a packed ballpark full of ecstatic fans, a celebration of a truly historic and almost unbelievable come-from-behind victory 86 long years in the making . . . my day, by comparison, has been decidely less interesting.

and the weekend winds down . . .

sUn DaY. the sun was actually strong enough to give me a sunburn today while i spent hours sitting in the park reading and writing and enjoying the fresh air. so now my arms and chest are an awkward pinkish red. well, except for the giant white circle on my chest that did not get any sun because i was wearing a rather large necklace. first day of sunning and already i've got weird tan lines. nice work, jules.

why does stuff like this always happen to me?

bOx OfFiCe hIt. i keep seeing advertisements for the new sean penn/nicole kidman film "the interpreter". they filmed it in my neighborhood last summer. i was hit by a cab one night when the driver, who was paying more attention to the shoot than to his job, inadvertantly took his foot off the brake while stopped at a red light at e. 9th & 2nd ave and rolled through the intersection as i was crossing. i was lifted up onto the hood of the cab and carried a good 5-10 feet before the driver even noticed. funny for bystanders (of which there were many). not so funny for me. go ahead and laugh, it's okay. but i'm not sure i'm going to go see that movie.

spring cleaning: a rebirth.

tHrOw It iN pArK. that's right. it's april 7th. it's 72 degrees in midtown according to weather.com. spring is here. which means as long as i am stuck at this pain in the ass day job, the season of central park lunch breaks is on. today's stroll took me up past the wollman rink, which i was surprised to find is still open. i was still more surprised to see all the people ice skating. i'm sorry, but what the fuck is wrong with you? it's spring. you missed skating season. give up the ghost, retire the skates, and go smell the daffodils or something.

seEdLinG. an idea was born today. a new venture decided upon. it's exciting. but that is all the authorities will let me say about it.

wHeN i GrOw uP. i've been doing a lot of thinking lately about what i want to be when i grow up and how i can make it happen. will i ever make it happen? am i doing enough to make it happen? how can i do more? and, i think in a misguided attempt to be helpful, someone asked me what the very first thing i wanted to be when i grew up was. well, that would be mary magdalene. that's right, as a little girl i had an odd obsession with the rock opera jesus christ superstar and i wanted to be the slut who fell for jesus who couldn't love her back, at least not in the way she wanted. no further comment is necessary i think.

sOmEtHinG tO lOoK fOrWaRd tO. spoon in june.

today's forecast: foggy with some lingering haze.

tHe nExT BiG ThiNg. i may have had the greatest marketing idea ever last night thanks to a heavy dose of nyquil. if only i could remember the details. like what it was, for instance. from what i do remember this product/service already existed, my new roommates introduced it to me – with some sort of combination of awe and aggravation that i did not already know about it. but it was okay, i didn’t take offense, i mean, they were right – where the hell had i been that i hadn’t heard about this? the rest is very fuzzy. and by very fuzzy, i mean more or less a total blur. it involved music, something about unlimited access, and also, somehow, time. it definitely meant that i could listen to whatever music i wanted to (and i think play with some proficiency any instrument i wanted) and not have to set my alarm clock. that was key and what had me very excited about this fabulous new service. was it a service? i don’t even know. i do feel like it was some sort of subscription or service and not a thing. regardless, when my alarm clock went off at 6:45am this morning i smugly hit the snooze button, thinking to myself, “well i don’t need that anymore!” minutes later i again resurfaced from my nyquil-induced fog and this time i couldn’t quite figure out why i didn’t need my alarm clock and i had this growing sensation that i did, in fact, have to get out of bed and be at work at 8:30am. so i went with that feeling, and it turns out it is a good thing i did. they were expecting me here at 8:30am. (they were also expecting me to be productive, which has been a challenge with the lingering haze of nyquil in my system.) so i guess i keep the alarm clock then, huh? that sucks. damn, i wish i could remember what this amazing thing was, because it was awesome. and i’m sure totally achievable. and definitely not simply my subconscious reaction to the fear of oversleeping having taken a sleeping medication and my roommates playing music in the next room after i went to sleep – as i deduced they had by the guitar left on the chair in front of the computer that i passed on the way to the shower this morning. no, i’m sure i’m just on to something really good. but what?

pope john paul the second loses his bid to be longest serving pope ever and has to settle for third place.

citing a number of factors, including natural causes and circumstances beyond their control, pope john paul ii's camp is taking their bronze medal in length of pontific reign in stride. "of course there's disappointment at a time like this, it's only natural. but, you know, i guess he's in a better place and all that," explained jennifer, an active member of john paul superstar: campaign for the longest reigning pope ever (jps: cflrpe). added fellow member, matthew: "yeah. and what good would it do to look back and say 'if only he hadn't had that heart condition, if only his kidneys had been stronger . . .' that stuff gets you nowhere. he gave it his all, we all did, and, you know, third place isn't shabby. jps: cflrpe had a big energy boost last year when we passed leo xiii, but we all knew catching up to pius ix would be tough and, in the end, the old guy just didn't have it in him."

sMiLe LiKe YoU mEAn iT. i checked out the scene at st. patricks cathedral yesterday and, rest assured, there is no need for any sort of moratorium on photo opps at catholic sites. in fact, you should grab the kids, get in the station wagon, and strike while the iron is hot. i mean, anyone can have their 'smiling on the steps of st. patricks' shot in the family photo album, but how often do you get the chance for the 'smiling on the steps of st. patricks with the purple and black banners of mourning for the pope behind you' shot? that's right, this is historic. it's gonna be awhile before this chance comes along again, so act fast. the picture will look great right before those zany shots you took down at the world trade center. and will be almost as classy. so, michael, put your arm around your sister, give me a big smile, and say cheese!

hElP WaNteD. for the 5.2% of americans who are unemployed, you may have been disappointed when the us dept of labor released their numbers on april 1 and only 110,000 new jobs had been created in the month of march. well, you can now make that 110,001.

my mother told me never talk to strangers.

cRosS eXaMiNaTiOn. david cross (yes, arrested development david cross, mr. show david cross) is a red sox fan. don't believe me? you can ask him yourself like i did friday night at the bar. though maybe it would be slightly more tactful not to grab the red sox logo on his knit cap & exclaim, "david cross, you're a red sox fan?!" maybe. of course, in the moment i failed to come up with any, but i have a strong suspicion there are less obnoxious ways to break the ice with david cross.

upstanding citizen? kind of.

sUmMoNed. for jury duty. good old new york city has tracked me down at my current address (really, with the frequency with which that has changed over the past 3 months, this is no small feat on their part) and called me out on my obligation to serve on a jury later this month. whatever. many people dread jury duty. i say, "get out of work free day?? bring it on." i may even do my best to get myself seated on an actual panel and turn this into a multiple day vacation from the office. goodbye avenue of the americas, hello centre street! is it too early to start packing?