n i c k y n a x . c o m

I’m ashamed to admit that I have no self control or patience.

Well, that’s not true. I was able to wait six months and live a perfectly happy and fulfilled life, but yesterday I broke down and caved under the ever-growing desire to own an iPhone.

Yes, I am filled with iShame.

I had every intention of waiting patiently for the second generation of the iPhone to be released. Obviously, it was going to have more features and less issues than the one currently on the market, but you have to admit that six months is still a pretty admirable length of time for me to stand my ground and resist the temptations. Normally I have no willpower and demand instant gratification with things like this.

However, I am not entirely to blame.

You see, Michael and I are phone buddies. Last year we bought our Treo 680 phones at the same time after spending weeks researching them and waiting for them to go on sale. We named them. We helped each other figure out all of the features. They were sibling phones. And we planned on continuing the tradition with the iPhone 2.0 when it went on sale sometime next year.

But then he had to go and get one as a gift for Christmas, and suddenly my Treo had lost his twin sister and the phone buddies had been torn apart. So, really, I had to get the phone or risk losing a friend.

At least that’s what I am telling myself to get some of the responsibility off of my shoulders.

Buyer’s remorse? None.

And what if the second generation comes out in a week? Eh. I’ll deal with that when it happens.

But for now, I’m going to enjoy my new phone because I’m in iLove with it.

Now, I just need to come up with a name for it.

2 comments

Such is the way with the holiday season, but I have been busier than busy. Not only do I have all of the normal holiday hubbub going on, but about seventeen bazillion of my friends have birthdays in December, which only adds to the craziness of this time of year.

Thus, I haven’t yet been able to write about Kevin’s visit since the last cliffhanger-esque entry. I’ll make a long story short. It was wonderful seeing him, and even though I only got to spend a few hours with him, it was a few hours I wouldn’t trade for anything.

In other NYC visitor news, my family arrives late tonight for the holidays. Mom, sister, and niece all making there way to Manhattan to spend Christmas here with me. I’m pretty stoked about that. Haven’t seen them in almost two years, so it will be good to see them again. This will also be my niece’s first time to the city, so it should be pretty exciting to see how she reacts to everything. We’re going to be seeing The Radio City Christmas Spectacular and Mary Poppins while they are here. I haven’t seen the former since I worked at it about five years ago, and I love me some Disney, so looking forward to the latter as well.

To leave you all in the Christmas spirit, my gift to you is a video I filmed of the Saks Fifth Avenue Holiday Light Show. This is one of my absolute favorite things about this city during the holidays, and so I love that I get to share it with you! Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

No comments

I’ve been procrastinating on writing about this for a month now, because I couldn’t wrap my head around it enough to figure out how I even felt about it. And a month later, I still find myself at a loss. But, since it’s happening tomorrow, I have no choice but to write now, regardless of how jumbled it all still is in my mind. I find it hard to even put into words when I am talking to friends about it, so actually assigning words to it and putting it in writing is perhaps the most daunting task I’ve had in awhile.

I wrote awhile ago about Kevin. About how we were dating and how he had to leave due to his job, and in doing so, our relationship ended. Five months have now gone by, and while I’ve emotionally come to terms with it and moved on for the most part, I’m about to be back in the middle of it all over again.

Kevin has two weeks off from his job, and is able to come back from China during that time. He’ll be spending one night here in the city, then a few days at home with his family, and then down to Florida for a few days to spend with his friends there.

And I don’t know what to do or think about this.

Naturally I am thrilled that he will be here tomorrow and I will get to see him again. I haven’t seen him since he left five months ago, and I miss him more than I will even allow myself to admit. Yes, we’ve been able to keep in touch via the phone and Internet since then, but that’s not the same as being able to talk to someone in person. To hug them. To feel them hug you. And it feels like an eternity since I’ve had that.

So why can’t I seem to get excited?

It’s no secret that I was emotionally devastated when he left, and I’m just so scared to go through that again. It seems like a foolish thing to do to voluntarily put myself through that knowing how badly it hurt the first time around. Also, it just seems pointless to be apart for five months, and then only have one night together before leaving again for seven more months. It begs the question, "What’s the point?"

I basically have two choices with how to handle this situation.

I could decline the invitation to see him while he’s here or I can spend time with him.

The way I see it, either way I choose, I lose.

If I don’t see him, I won’t run the risk of becoming reattached and having to go our separate ways again. That option could save me some emotional trauma, which is a very good thing. But, in doing so, I rob myself of the chance to spend time with him. When it comes down to it, five short minutes is better than nothing at all.

Right?

So, obviously I have to see him. I have to spend time with him. I can’t pass up this opportunity. I would never be able to forgive myself if I didn’t see him. It would be lying to myself to deny that desire to spend time with him, even if it is just for a few hours.

I just have to keep reminding myself that this is just for one night and not to get too attached again. At least for the time being. Although anyone who knows me knows that I can get attached quite easily, which tends to be a recipe for disaster. But I’m hoping that since I’ve known about this for about a month now and have had some time to let it all marinate in my head, that I’ve been able to mentally prepare myself for it and can minimize any emotional stress.

Yeah, that’ll never happen.

It’s highly possible that I’m getting so worked up over nothing at all. And it’s also highly possible that once we see each other again tomorrow, that the connection we once had just won’t be there anymore. Afterall, it’s been five months. We’ve each had some time away from the other where we’ve been able to put our relationship into perspective, and once we actually see each other again, it could signal a realization that June marked the end for us. I’m sure that will be a tough thing to come to terms with, but I guess it’s best to figure that out now than hold onto a false dream for seven more months only to be disappointed even further down the road.

Tomorrow holds the potential to be an incredible day or a horrible one. And I’m scared to find out which it will be.

I have my fingers crossed that his visit will be the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.

Better than a Tickle Me Elmo, at least.

1 comment

I arrived home last night fresh from a horribly long and mentally exhausting day of work. I stopped off at the grocery store first, though, to get something with which to make a quick dinner and as much Soy Eggnog as one person could carry.

I walked through the door with food/drink in tow, ready to have a relaxing night to recover from the madness of the day. That is not what happened.

I closed the door behind me and locked it, turned on the living room light, and then…the doorbell rang. I was not expecting anyone to visit, and I knew that any of my friends would have told me that they were going to stop by instead of showing up unannounced. For those reasons, I ignored it. I assumed it was just someone actually wanting the people in the first floor or second floor apartment, but since none of the bells downstairs are labeled, people tend to press the wrong one from time to time.

I went about unpacking the groceries I had just purchased, but the doorbell kept ringing. After about five minutes I began to get annoyed. I obviously wasn’t answering, but they were refusing to leave.

And that’s when the overactive imagination kicked in.

I suddenly realized that this person probably WAS trying to get my attention and not someone else’s in the building. And the reason it started ringing the moment I walked in my door was probably because they had followed me home. I’ve been followed home before in my past. I’ve been mugged before in my past. These sort of things do happen and are completely within the realm of possibilities.

I started freaking out.

My first instinct was to turn the living room lights off to give the “not home” appearance. But if this person had followed me home, then that wasn’t going to work. And after they had been standing outside of my place with my living room light on all this time, if it suddenly went off, that would be even more confirmation that I was home.

I also didn’t want to stay in the kitchen/living room area of the apartment, because depending on if they were moving around out there eyeing the house, they might catch glimpse of me moving around through the window.

I made a B-line to the bedroom, closed the door, and sat there in the dark.

After a few more rings, it stopped for about five minutes, and assuming the ordeal was over and the mysterious stalker downstairs had given up and left, I decided to emerge from the dark sanctuary of the bedroom.

But as I opened the bedroom door, it rang again.

And that sort of pattern kept happening. Every time the ringing would stop long enough to make me think it was over, it would suddenly start up again.

By this time, about an hour had passed.

I started to wonder what the possibility of it actually being someone I knew could be. Even though I knew that if it was someone I knew, they would let me know in advance that they would be coming over, and even if they did make an impromptu appearance, they wouldn’t just stand there in the cold ringing the bell all night. They would eventually call me and let me know they were downstairs trying to get in.

So maybe it was the landlord? No, he has a key. It’s definitely not him.

It’s someone trying to kill me. It’s the only logical explanation.

After settling on that conclusion, I decided that I needed some self-defense in case this killer found a way into the building and into my apartment. So, I went over to the bedroom door and opened it. Then, I got down on the floor and military crawled through the living room and into the kitchen. I slooooowly reached up, opened the drawer, and retrieved the biggest knife I own. Then I military crawled (much more carefully, mind you) back through the living room and into the bedroom again, where I huddled in the corner ready to attack. Miss Jackson took my cue and proceeded to hide under the bed.

For a hot second, I thought that maybe I should just suck it up and go downstairs and answer the door. But what was going to say at this point? “I’m sorry, I was on the toilet for the past hour, so I wasn’t able to answer the door.” There was no logical explanation as to why I had ignored the bell for an hour and then decided it was worthy of my attention.

It was this point where I realized I had my computer in the bedroom with me. So, I turned that on, booted up AIM and started freaking out to everyone on my buddy list. I also grabbed my phone and started trying to get in touch with everyone I knew who lived in the neighborhood to see if maybe they had decided to spend their evening on my doorstep and ring my doorbell all night. Didn’t get ahold of anyone, so I suddenly had the epiphany that maybe it was a friend who had locked themselves out of their apartment and therefore didn’t have their phone on them to call me to tell me they were downstairs trying to get in. They probably needed me to call their roommate or let them in out of the cold for a few hours until their roommates got home.

Yeah, couldn’t risk it though.

I was finally able to get ahold of Garrett via AIM. He was at the gym, and was trying to keep me calm while the stranger outside was trying to get in to kill me.

Two hours after the ordeal started (yes, that’s right, two hours now), Kane called me back which only let me know that it wasn’t him. He was still in the city at a show. By this point everyone I was talking to online was telling me I needed to call the police and have them drive by and find out what was going on. But I was even more scared of calling the police than I was of getting killed for some odd reason.

Soon thereafter, the intensity kicked up a notch.

Instead of just casual ringing every few seconds with some pausing between, the psycho downstairs decided that he meant business. He must have pressed down on the doorbell and not let go, because it started ringing on a continuous loop. As soon as the ring would fade out, it immediately rang again.

Ding-DonnnnnnngDing-DonnnnnnngDing-DonnnnnnngDing-DonnnnnnngDing-Donnnnnnng

At this point, I started to freak. the. shit. out.

Garrett was very brave and offered to come over and walk by and give me a description of the person via AIM in hopes that I could identify them as someone I knew.

During the period of time where he was in transit to my place, I just sat there in the corner of my bedroom, rocking back and forth, clutching the knife.

And then…

Something in my bathroom made a loud crashing noise.

FUCK! Obviously the person outside isn’t alone and his partner murderer was now trying to break in through the window in the bathroom. This was it. This was the point where my life was about to end. I was about to be snuffed out by the soon-to-be-famous Doorbell Bandit.

It was now THREE AND A HALF hours after this nightmare began, and Garrett asked me if the doorbell was still ringing. I told him it was and he replied with “Honey, there’s nobody down here.”

*pause*

Excuse me?

I was tempted to make him take a picture of my front door with his Sidekick and email it to me as proof, but I figured that was going a bit too far. So, I cautiously emerged from my hiding place thoroughly confused as to what was happening. Either the Doorbell Bandit has mastered the art of invisibility which is even more terrifying or a ghost had taken up residence in my home and was haunting me.

Either that, or the doorbell was just sticky and/or malfunctioning.

Ohhhhhhhhhh. Yeah, that…actually….makes…..sense.

I meekly went downstairs, opened the front door, gave Garrett a hug to thank him for being my superhero and then proceeded to punch the doorbell a few times to whip it back into shape.

I came back upstairs and all was silent once again. No more doorbell. But by this time I had gotten so used to hearing it that the silence was so much more jarring than the bell was.

I have never felt more embarrassed and stupid in recent history. I spent three and a half hours cowering in fear and hiding from….nothing.

To celebrate my escape from the Doorbell Bandit I opened a bottle of wine, drank directly from the bottle like the classy guy I am, and passed out asleep in bed.

1 comment