occupying thoughts not cities since 1987 / retail girl / former radio dj / daydreamer

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Returning to work today was not a great experience for me.  I didn’t sleep well last night, I was really dreading it because I knew my reaction wouldn’t be a good one.


Last night my dad told me that people set up a makeshift memorial on the barricades surrounding the crime scene.  I went into Stop and Shop to return a Redbox movie and found myself in the floral department.  I found a bouquet of daisies that were a mix of blue and yellow - the BAA’s (Boston Marathon) colors.  It was meant to be.  Could I really afford $10.99 for flowers? Probably not, but I felt I needed to do it.  I needed to support my friends and neighbors who are affected.  Someone out there would be comforted by flowers at that memorial, and that thought comforted me.  So I carried the daisies in on the T this morning, probably looking like an idiot but I was so numb I didn’t care.  I carried the daisies past the National Guard at North Station and Arlington.  Is this what we’ve come to?

All I could do walking up the stairs from Arlington was take deep breaths.  Boylston St. between Arlington and Berkeley looked like nothing had even happened at first.  The closer I got to Berkeley, the harder it became to look up from the pavement.  As soon as I saw the barricades, I felt tears start welling up and I choked them down.  I saw a small memorial with flowers, candles, t-shirts, posters, flags, anything people could leave.  They were behind a row of TV cameras and photographers.  What was a solemn moment for a lot of people in the area was turning into the Truman Show.  I stopped for a second to just look, but I felt I would be interrupting a shot if I walked over with my flowers.


I saw a cameraman turn, and I asked if I could place my flowers, and apologized because I didn’t want to interrupt their shooting.  I hated myself for even asking.  I felt like we were invaded and being put on display.  The cameraman said yes, and they were here for this.  I barely took my hands off of the daisies before I heard the clicking of cameras behind me, and I knew that the video cameras were rolling.  No one asked me if it was okay that they photograph me.  I felt so violated, so angry.  I was vulnerable, and I did NOT want to be a news story.  I wanted my moment to begin the grieving process, to cope with what was right in front of me.  These people were not invited, the world was NOT invited, but they forced their way in without my permission.


I was barely in front of the cameras for 30 seconds and I had to get away.  I couldn’t cope under a magnifying glass.  I wasn’t even half a block away before a reporter (literally) chased me down for a comment.  I don’t know why I said yes, it doesn’t make sense to me.  I guess I thought if I said yes and answered his stupid generic questions the sooner the vultures would leave me alone.  I snapped out of it the moment he asked for my name.  I said no, I at least have the privacy of not giving my name even if my face is splashed all over the news in whatever state he is from.  The girl with the daisies who cried in front of a news camera.

It made me angry.  I still am angry.  The satellite trucks everywhere, the reporters, the cameras.  Our lives are under a magnifying glass.  What’s worse?  There doesn’t need to be so many.  That’s the brilliant thing about networks, you can grab the story from an affiliate and not send your own truck.  But NO, ALL OF THE TRUCKS had to come.  Why did every ABC affiliate need to be here?  We have WCVB and ABC’s national team, THAT IS ALL WE NEED.  (Using this as an example, all the networks are here.)  I get that journalists have a massive story to cover, but why ALL of the affiliates?  That’s damn excessive, and Back Bay is crowded enough as it is.

The other thing I’m angry about is the rumors that are being reported as fact.  This situation is hard enough as it is without the most reputable news networks reporting false information.  It’s a dark time, and everyone wants to catch the bad guy, but these journalists need to think about who is really paying for their “whoopsie.”  For them, it’s an embarrassment that will disappear when the next big story comes along.  For us it was hope, a feeling of reassurance, and the beginning of closure and then having the rug pulled out from under us when the FBI debunked the entire arrest story.  These breaking news stories have a cost, a very big cost, and no one is even considering it.  The networks want the glory, the credit for being the first to report it even when the facts aren’t there.  What is angering me the most is there is no thought of the innocent people who are affected by it.  It’s irresponsible and it’s happening in my home.  Stop crying wolf! Stop the witch hunt and let the investigation HAPPEN.

Leaving for home made me the angriest.  I went back to the barricade by Berkeley and Boylston streets to say goodbye to my dad who had another two hours before he could think about going home.  He wanted me to see the evidence cones on Boylston St., the reason why the block was still closed.  Shrapnel from the bombs flew two blocks, it was incredible.  Crowds of people were trying to see what was going on, trying to pay their respects, make sense of everything.  They couldn’t even get within 6 feet of the barricades because the media set up camp.  The memorial was moved to one corner and stanchions were set up around it.  Nobody could get near to see what was going on.  I’m sorry, who turned this area into your news studio?  Who moved the flowers into a corner so you could set up your camera?  It was a sick backhanded move, made to look respectful but really so the media could get their shot.  I’m still fuming just thinking about it.

I knew the city would be under a magnifying glass, I never anticipated I would lose all respect and privacy.  I’m already sickened by the gruesome photos published by the media (THAT is an issue of disrespect to the injured, don’t even get me started.)  I ask the media please respect the solemn nature of this tragedy.  I ask they please respect the grieving.  I ask they please ask permission before taking photos or video of those having a emotional private moment.  Screw your stupid laws about shooting on a public street and have a heart.  There are people out there who will allow you in, but RESPECT the people who won’t and don’t want any part of you.  This time is difficult for everyone without having a camera shoved into a private moment.

I dread all of the cameras tomorrow.  I just want one quiet moment with myself and Boylston St., and that isn’t a lot to ask for.

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Today, all who are here are Bostonians.  All who were touched by the events yesterday are Bostonians.


Yesterday I felt fear like I’ve never felt it in my entire life.  I felt anxiety, I felt sadness.  I felt powerless.  It was a tense decision to evacuate my workplace, and I forced myself to stay calm and collected to make sure our employees had a route around Copley Square to get home safely.  Many of us walked a long time to get to a train so we could get ourselves out of the area as soon as possible.  The trains were packed but eerily quiet and calm, like we were all sedated.

The worst part of everything was feeling the blasts and seeing people outside pack up and flee.  In our store, we had little to zero idea what was going on outside other than that there were explosions, and no one could give us answers.  All we had were tweets that said “blats at Marathon finish line, many lost limbs.”  We didn’t know if we should be evacuating or having a lock in.  The sound of sirens descending around Copley Square confirmed to all the gravity of the situation and made everyone anxious.  Rumors swirled out of control, our employees were anxious for information. 

More devices found… do not know how many more in the area.  I didn’t know if I would be blown up trying to get out of Back Bay.  Every trash can, every mailbox, every newspaper stand made me tense up, like I was bracing for a blast.  I couldn’t let myself breathe until I got past Beacon Hill and into the West End.  The entire walk I saw runners, families, people hugging and crying.  I wanted to hug each of them and say “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry this happened to us in my city.”  Because I am.

I’ve lived in Boston my entire life.  I’ve never felt unsafe here.  This is my home, my haven, and in your home nothing bad is ever supposed to happen to you.  I am still afraid, but that will pass.  I can not go back to work today because our store is in a massive crime scene, and honestly that is making it harder to face what is happening in my home.  I don’t know if I’ll ever feel the same in Back Bay.

I do know that the authorities will find this person or these people that set off the bombs, I have complete faith in that.  And they will pay for the fear, pain and heartache they caused.  Boston is already “tough,” and we can be downright scrappy when we need to be.  This can and will only make us stronger as a city.  We are all in this together, and we will all pull through this time together.  Now is the time to start putting the pieces back together and create a new normal, because nothing for us will ever be the same.

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I’ve now gotten two messages from guys I previously gave my number to and was texting for a short while. I still have their numbers in my phone.

Now the real questions here are 1. Do they think I’m that dumb as to forget I’ve spoken to them before or are they that dumb to forget themselves? 2. Do I creep the ever-loving crap out of them by texting them again? (It’s a quiet Sunday.)

This sign is painfully specific.

This sign is painfully specific.

Wow Starbucks… If you can lower yourself to be sold in Bed Bath and Beyond, you should allow their customers to use a coupon.

Wow Starbucks… If you can lower yourself to be sold in Bed Bath and Beyond, you should allow their customers to use a coupon.

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I’ve found myself a sex idiot! (30 Rock reference…)

Name changed to protect the guilty…

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You’re so vain, you probably think this post is about you.

Guess what, it is.

I’m through being nice to you.  You’ve managed to stalk my Twitter and this Tumblr page and make yourself known.  If I wanted to speak to you, I would have returned your text message back in February (was that it?  I did my best to ignore it and block you out,) when you asked to see me.  I’m done in so many ways, and you won’t let go and move on with your pathetic life.

Let me put my reasons in so few words:  I know you cheated on me, and I know you lied to me.

Don’t even try to deny it, don’t you dare give me the disrespect of another lie to try to defend yourself.  You’ve lied to me so many times to hang on to a relationship that you destroyed all on your own. You took me for granted and didn’t realize what you had until I was gone. I’m never coming back. I’m never going to speak to you. Any time I ever have the misfortune of thinking of you, I get angry.  I hate being an angry person.  I have enough anger in my personal life that I have no control over, the last thing I need is you popping back up in my Twitter.

I don’t love you, I never will again.  I don’t even like you anymore.  You were a horrible person to me and you know it.  I don’t know if you are contacting me out of guilt, loneliness, or straight up delusions but it’s selfish and you need to stop it.  I am a wonderful, kind, loving, honest and beautiful person and I let you make me feel sad, lonely, ugly and pathetic for months.  I hope you carry that with you and think twice before you ever make another woman feel like that.  You don’t deserve me in your life and you certainly don’t deserve an explanation why.

Stop trying, stop caring, stop contacting me.

Sounds about right…

Sounds about right…

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Have you seen this video on Esquire.com? No?  Do yourself a favor and watch it now.

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Found a dress for the white party on my cruise. Even found a sweet necklace that makes me NOT look like a girl at her sweet 16 party. But that necklace cost more than double the dress. I have issues, haha. (For reference, the entire look cost $44.10, pre-employee discount.)

Found a dress for the white party on my cruise. Even found a sweet necklace that makes me NOT look like a girl at her sweet 16 party. But that necklace cost more than double the dress. I have issues, haha. (For reference, the entire look cost $44.10, pre-employee discount.)