Was having drinks with some friends last night in a snazzy wine bar in my hood I have been hearing about for ages but finally got my lazy ass over see for myself to visit. Review : loved the setting and staff, unexcited about my ten dollar glass of Spanish wine.
So after the catch ups about work and life the discussion goes to the almost inevitable place of dating between men and women. The women were taking the stance that while guys may say they want women who are smart ,funny and even the aggressors, that is not who they end up with. Those are the qualities that they choose for friends, not long term lovers. The men were kind of blown away with this news. Not true they cryed, they love it when a woman asks them out, makes them laugh, has something going on behind the eyes. The females were not buying it. After a while we were just spinning in circles.
What I think what was happening is the results of unhealed hurt feelings. When you take a risk and not only you feel you didn't get a reward for it, but you are punished, it can seem like evidence that risk was a pretty stupid idea. So for example, I can tell the tale of being very attracted to the Young Photographer. He was snazzy, quick wit,sensitive outlook , had a large collection of female friends - which I always take as a good sign. He was groovy.We were smiling at each other for a while . But when I took the flirting to a more direct - No I'm serious,I feel for you,Chaka Khan- kind of way he got real ugly. He said he had been attracted to me but my being forward in my attraction was a killer to his libeto. In fact when ever I see him now ,he will made snide little comments about my sexuality. Nice huh?
Now I could process this and say this boy has some weird issues about female strength and role playing. That he ended up wed to a very sweet ,pretty Asian woman who never raises her voice, even to hale a cab. That sex with such a guy would probably be pretty lame. And I do have all those thoughts. But when I meet a man now who I like there is this thought of if I ask for his number or make the first move, will this make his penis get miniaturised?Some one I liked and cared about hurt my feelings deeply and now there is this tiny but constant voice of doubt.
A big part of my work is with people discussing their relationship lives. There is often this feeling if I am doing this professionally, shouldn't all of my issues be resolved? But I look back on the first woman I studied with about this stuff and while I got enormous insite and skills from her, there was always this weird arrogant lie in the room. She would say that we as clients should follow the rules that she lived by and we would all have have glorious sex lives and perfected partnerships. Ends up a couple of years ago she divorced her husband in as angry a way as I could imagine, and dates unavailable men who won't marry her. Oh ,and she's bipolar.
My hope is my clients like the fact that I am honest, that I am as confused and clueless sometimes as they are. That I am still trying to figure this out. And I do this while still often being the smartest, funniest , most aggressive girl in the joint.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Prrof that I exist
Big event of the day, I went down to the DMV and got new non-driver state ID. Why is such a big deal ? Well my last one was 2 years out of date and to get on a plane this summer I had to be frisked to see if I might be worthy of getting on a commuter plane from Virginia to Newark. It was probably time to take care of this.
It is also a step in getting over how pathetic I am . At least about getting my picture taken. It goes way beyond the standard girl, that one makes my ass look big, thing. I think it comes from not coming from a family that took pictures. There are no images of me in middle school except for those oh so becoming class photos. Then when I was acting I had to regularly get head shots done and that was such a treat and a half. You always seemed to be sitting in a lobby for your turn when some cutie with a TV friendly nose was walking out. I was always labeled " character" in looks. Meaning, you will be making people laugh not lustful. The only complement I ever got from a professional photographer was that I would not have to fake my cleavage the way most other women did.
So now all I see are the faults. Polish nose that could be used on Sesame Street to demonstrate the shape of the letter T. Rectangle shaped head that always produces a double chin no matter how skinny I get. The weight just falls there. There is no medium in pictures of me . About once a decade I can get an image that is to die for. Otherwise I look like a rather unattractive Serbian butch robot. But all of this I put this all aside, showed all my 14 hundred forms of personal I.D. and had a pretty unappealing image made of myself. But at least I won't have to do that for another 8 years.
Got an invitation this afternoon for a day of the Dead party on Saturday. You are supposed to bring something to symbolise those who are no longer around to celebrate them .I am thinking of who and what I should bring. Not to be Gothic but there are allot of folks who have crossed over. And pictures would seem like the obvious thing to bring but 1. it is obvious and one can't do that. And 2. Many of the people in my life hated their images in photos as much as I do. Would my grandmother come back to haunt me if I brought the image of her as a flapper, that I love, but I know she couldn't stand? Would seem unfair.
It is also a step in getting over how pathetic I am . At least about getting my picture taken. It goes way beyond the standard girl, that one makes my ass look big, thing. I think it comes from not coming from a family that took pictures. There are no images of me in middle school except for those oh so becoming class photos. Then when I was acting I had to regularly get head shots done and that was such a treat and a half. You always seemed to be sitting in a lobby for your turn when some cutie with a TV friendly nose was walking out. I was always labeled " character" in looks. Meaning, you will be making people laugh not lustful. The only complement I ever got from a professional photographer was that I would not have to fake my cleavage the way most other women did.
So now all I see are the faults. Polish nose that could be used on Sesame Street to demonstrate the shape of the letter T. Rectangle shaped head that always produces a double chin no matter how skinny I get. The weight just falls there. There is no medium in pictures of me . About once a decade I can get an image that is to die for. Otherwise I look like a rather unattractive Serbian butch robot. But all of this I put this all aside, showed all my 14 hundred forms of personal I.D. and had a pretty unappealing image made of myself. But at least I won't have to do that for another 8 years.
Got an invitation this afternoon for a day of the Dead party on Saturday. You are supposed to bring something to symbolise those who are no longer around to celebrate them .I am thinking of who and what I should bring. Not to be Gothic but there are allot of folks who have crossed over. And pictures would seem like the obvious thing to bring but 1. it is obvious and one can't do that. And 2. Many of the people in my life hated their images in photos as much as I do. Would my grandmother come back to haunt me if I brought the image of her as a flapper, that I love, but I know she couldn't stand? Would seem unfair.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Things not to do right before bed.
My whole day started off running late because I slept too long because I woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. It was about Mother Natures Son who I have not seen or talked to in about 14 years. The dream was about him leaving me for another woman and that he owed me money. Which is odd, as I don't recall ever loaning him cash while we were together.
I know this is directly connected to reading Learning to Drive right before I went to sleep. It's a remarkable book of essays but it disturbed me. Largely because I feel I know the author. Not in a literal sense but I know every where she is going in travels. Her neighborhood is my old neighborhood. The subway stations, the parks, I know exactly where she is. But more importantly I know the woman she is. She is a brilliant, well read, neurotic fem of the born and bred NYC gene. I know how she dresses, I know what kind of men she would date, I know what kind of mother she is. Because she is me. And she freaked me.Like a literary ghost of Christmas future.
The main essay is about the end of her last live in relationship with a well known Marxist who seemed to have slept with every other brilliant, well read,neurotic women in NYC. She is so honest about her rage and obsession with him it made me very uneasy. While on one hand it is a real blessing to have a writer be so out there and honest with their personal experience. But on the other hand, I don't want to be her in 15 years. I'm a sitting there in bed reading.and it was like a watching a slow moving train wreck. I could not bear her being so stupid and self abusive but I could not look away.
The whole thing has put me in a very bad state of mind all day. I'm scared. I have this collection of women in my life that I think of as the nuns. Collectively they are clever, kind hearted, good at what they do, responsible, good with money and wear great looking scarves in flattering colours. But they have been hurt one too many times in their romantic lives and its like a switch hit them some where in midlife. They don't try anymore. They don't take lovers, they don't date, they don't even flirt. They give their love to their friends, their pets, their causes. Gay, straight, bi, they just don't let themselves being emotionally or physically romantically touched anymore. They break my hearts.
I have a few peers who have done the same but I don't choose to have relationships with those women any more. I tryed but they would get so bitter and ugly if I mentioned adventures I was having on a personal site or an interaction with a cute potential guy that didn't work out the way I might have hoped it would. I was a fool for even trying . But for those women what ever was going on with them was so extreme and unsettling, it would never be fun or comforting to be playmates with them. If you have given up hope that you will ever meet a kind person that will find you right and you are only in your 30s, something is dying in you. Frankly, I got enough potential death to deal with in my life to deal with.
When I was in my early 20s my then roommate and I were talking to an older woman friend about what we wanted for our future. The number 1 thing we both wanted was a child and we had no question that we would have one. The older woman started laughing and shaking her head.She told us how she had been the same .But things has not worked out as planned with her partner. That we were foolish and arrogant to have such dreams.Almost 20 years later my roommate is a mother of a beautiful boy but is in a marriage that makes my stomach lurch. The older woman verbally castrates her husband every day for not forfilling her dreams. And I am alone but mostly content.
Short list of things I don't want. I don't want to look back on my life ten years from now and be bitter. I don't want to marry some toxic hazard of a male just because I am scared time is running out. I don't want to have sex with someone that I don't particularly like or have anything in common with because I lonely, or horny, or want to feel better about my self.
Short list of what I do want. I want to find someone who likes themselves ,their lives and me most of the time. If I choose to not have a child, I want it because I made the choice, not because I feel I never met a good man. If I choose to have a child I want it to be because I have a calling to, not because I need to feel normal or rewarded by society . And if I have the kid, I want it to like itself, it's life and me most of the time.
It's not quite 4 o'clock yet.Am I allowed to have a glass of wine?
I know this is directly connected to reading Learning to Drive right before I went to sleep. It's a remarkable book of essays but it disturbed me. Largely because I feel I know the author. Not in a literal sense but I know every where she is going in travels. Her neighborhood is my old neighborhood. The subway stations, the parks, I know exactly where she is. But more importantly I know the woman she is. She is a brilliant, well read, neurotic fem of the born and bred NYC gene. I know how she dresses, I know what kind of men she would date, I know what kind of mother she is. Because she is me. And she freaked me.Like a literary ghost of Christmas future.
The main essay is about the end of her last live in relationship with a well known Marxist who seemed to have slept with every other brilliant, well read,neurotic women in NYC. She is so honest about her rage and obsession with him it made me very uneasy. While on one hand it is a real blessing to have a writer be so out there and honest with their personal experience. But on the other hand, I don't want to be her in 15 years. I'm a sitting there in bed reading.and it was like a watching a slow moving train wreck. I could not bear her being so stupid and self abusive but I could not look away.
The whole thing has put me in a very bad state of mind all day. I'm scared. I have this collection of women in my life that I think of as the nuns. Collectively they are clever, kind hearted, good at what they do, responsible, good with money and wear great looking scarves in flattering colours. But they have been hurt one too many times in their romantic lives and its like a switch hit them some where in midlife. They don't try anymore. They don't take lovers, they don't date, they don't even flirt. They give their love to their friends, their pets, their causes. Gay, straight, bi, they just don't let themselves being emotionally or physically romantically touched anymore. They break my hearts.
I have a few peers who have done the same but I don't choose to have relationships with those women any more. I tryed but they would get so bitter and ugly if I mentioned adventures I was having on a personal site or an interaction with a cute potential guy that didn't work out the way I might have hoped it would. I was a fool for even trying . But for those women what ever was going on with them was so extreme and unsettling, it would never be fun or comforting to be playmates with them. If you have given up hope that you will ever meet a kind person that will find you right and you are only in your 30s, something is dying in you. Frankly, I got enough potential death to deal with in my life to deal with.
When I was in my early 20s my then roommate and I were talking to an older woman friend about what we wanted for our future. The number 1 thing we both wanted was a child and we had no question that we would have one. The older woman started laughing and shaking her head.She told us how she had been the same .But things has not worked out as planned with her partner. That we were foolish and arrogant to have such dreams.Almost 20 years later my roommate is a mother of a beautiful boy but is in a marriage that makes my stomach lurch. The older woman verbally castrates her husband every day for not forfilling her dreams. And I am alone but mostly content.
Short list of things I don't want. I don't want to look back on my life ten years from now and be bitter. I don't want to marry some toxic hazard of a male just because I am scared time is running out. I don't want to have sex with someone that I don't particularly like or have anything in common with because I lonely, or horny, or want to feel better about my self.
Short list of what I do want. I want to find someone who likes themselves ,their lives and me most of the time. If I choose to not have a child, I want it because I made the choice, not because I feel I never met a good man. If I choose to have a child I want it to be because I have a calling to, not because I need to feel normal or rewarded by society . And if I have the kid, I want it to like itself, it's life and me most of the time.
It's not quite 4 o'clock yet.Am I allowed to have a glass of wine?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
In praise of isolation
I try to make it a sort of discipline as a single person to go out at least half the nights of the week. This works out most of the time give or take a night. It helps kill the desire to hermit and remember that I do live in the most amazing city in the world - if one overlooks the upper east side. Being around others also helps to kill the demons that live in my head if I spend too much time by my self. The ones that tell me I am going to die poor,alone , except for a bunch of cats.
But tonight we have the first truly crappy weather of the season. It's raining slow and steady these life taking drops that threaten to become snow but never make the commitment. It's so bad the dealers are hiding in their girlfriends vans. Meanwhile my home is warm and toasty. And ground lamb has just been delivered for making burgers. There is a bottle of cheap but pleasant red wine on the kitchen counter.I just got Katha Pollitt's Learning to Drive from the library and I love it. I can watch to see if Cloris or Susan is going to be kicked of the dance show.
I don't care if I got an invitation right now to go down to midtown for a chance to see Ethel Merman rise from the dead while doing a medley of her biggest numbers. I am staying put tonight.
But tonight we have the first truly crappy weather of the season. It's raining slow and steady these life taking drops that threaten to become snow but never make the commitment. It's so bad the dealers are hiding in their girlfriends vans. Meanwhile my home is warm and toasty. And ground lamb has just been delivered for making burgers. There is a bottle of cheap but pleasant red wine on the kitchen counter.I just got Katha Pollitt's Learning to Drive from the library and I love it. I can watch to see if Cloris or Susan is going to be kicked of the dance show.
I don't care if I got an invitation right now to go down to midtown for a chance to see Ethel Merman rise from the dead while doing a medley of her biggest numbers. I am staying put tonight.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Return to Guyville
I got some good news this afternoon. A friend of a friend who I let house sit this summer will be staying here for a month, renting the extra bedroom. ( Can I say it's still a turn on to say I have an extra bedroom even after 2 years.) This will mean I can actually buy Christmas presents that cost a little bit more than tube socks. It also means I will have the experience of sharing my home with a nice man.
This is has historically been a very good thing for me to do. For while I like men enormously, when I am single ,I get out of practice of being with them. And then I get annoyed at them being, well,guys. That they don't do conversation the way most women do, that they monopolise, monologue, don't ask questions.And that they don't have that compulsive female emotional gage going.They aren't always thinking about how their actions will impact on others. Which can be a huge relief but also can in the wrong situations just piss me off.
But living with good guys, this kind of stuff can become normalised again. And to become reestablished with guy stuff with sound, smell, even taste. My last two dude borders had some weird ass dorm room stuff related to food.This I think is a very healthy thing for me be around.
Most importantly it is to be aware on a daily basis of male kindness. I have guy friends who are lovely and supportive to me. But like most of pals, even the ones who live on the same block as me, I almost never see them.Everyone is so friiggin busy. And if they have wives or girlfriends or boyfriends or dogs, you can't be expected to ask much of their time.But to have a consistent,hey what are you doing today- can I open that jar for you ? That I think will be good for my head. Even bad ones be helpful. Because there is the comparison.
When I met Schroder 2 years ago it was right when I had taken in the worst male roommate on record.This was largely had to do with an age difference and life experience outlook. I suspect I wouldn't have tolerated him any better when i was 24. At least I hope I had some sort of self perception then to spot losers. But I would then go out with his gifted self and I would be so happy and grateful to be with a man who did something with his day that was a little more productive than get high with hobos in the park. That punk kid made me a very nice girlfriend.Maybe this might have the potential of repeating the some of the same energy. Pro-boy.
This is has historically been a very good thing for me to do. For while I like men enormously, when I am single ,I get out of practice of being with them. And then I get annoyed at them being, well,guys. That they don't do conversation the way most women do, that they monopolise, monologue, don't ask questions.And that they don't have that compulsive female emotional gage going.They aren't always thinking about how their actions will impact on others. Which can be a huge relief but also can in the wrong situations just piss me off.
But living with good guys, this kind of stuff can become normalised again. And to become reestablished with guy stuff with sound, smell, even taste. My last two dude borders had some weird ass dorm room stuff related to food.This I think is a very healthy thing for me be around.
Most importantly it is to be aware on a daily basis of male kindness. I have guy friends who are lovely and supportive to me. But like most of pals, even the ones who live on the same block as me, I almost never see them.Everyone is so friiggin busy. And if they have wives or girlfriends or boyfriends or dogs, you can't be expected to ask much of their time.But to have a consistent,hey what are you doing today- can I open that jar for you ? That I think will be good for my head. Even bad ones be helpful. Because there is the comparison.
When I met Schroder 2 years ago it was right when I had taken in the worst male roommate on record.This was largely had to do with an age difference and life experience outlook. I suspect I wouldn't have tolerated him any better when i was 24. At least I hope I had some sort of self perception then to spot losers. But I would then go out with his gifted self and I would be so happy and grateful to be with a man who did something with his day that was a little more productive than get high with hobos in the park. That punk kid made me a very nice girlfriend.Maybe this might have the potential of repeating the some of the same energy. Pro-boy.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
the didget celibration
Mother earth Sarah called this morning to say that this was last minute but she wanted to ask if I was free this afternoon to come to a party to say goodbye to her pinkie toe on her right foot. She had a fall down a flight of stairs on her way to an AA meeting a couple of months ago. She was sober which makes this seem even more unfair. Some how in the fall she basically killed her toe.
I knew that Thursday it would be removed and was thinking I should at least check in on her to see how she was doing. Ends up , she is at least emotionally healthier than the rest of us. He husband served us sparkling cider and a variety of nibbly things including 5 kinds of dips. There were toasts made to the lost toe. A poetry tribute was given.
This may have been the most cheerful ,odd little luncheon I can recall being part of in a very long time.
I knew that Thursday it would be removed and was thinking I should at least check in on her to see how she was doing. Ends up , she is at least emotionally healthier than the rest of us. He husband served us sparkling cider and a variety of nibbly things including 5 kinds of dips. There were toasts made to the lost toe. A poetry tribute was given.
This may have been the most cheerful ,odd little luncheon I can recall being part of in a very long time.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
The Gods have spoken
Last night I wrote a very long detailed post about the events of the last 36 hours. However blogger was having some sort of tech issue and could neither print or save what I had so brilliantly written. Alas , it is gone to the great place of lost cyber scribe.
Strangely I am not bombed by this. I am still feeling my way through this whole blog thing. What is ethical to talk about. What might come back to haunt me. While I have chosen not to post my name and picture, it still could be figured out with out too much trouble who I am and following , who I am talking about. In particular, my family.
What the lost post was about was almost entirely about the folks. Nothing I said was dishonest, or even an exaggeration. But they might have found it to be a betrayal of sorts. They are all so internal. To have others be aware of what is going on for them in their deeper selves is so totally out of character. It was the cause of my feeling very lonely as a kid, no one was talking about what was going on. I thought I was the only one experiencing the events around me.
When I hit my teens I went through a period of being an intense gossip. I am not proud of this but I do have sympathy for this era of my life. Because now I finally had friends and they were talking about their adventures. It was blissful.You would talk about the events leading up to,then catch up while it was going on, then recap after it was over. And then recap with 7 other people who had nothing to do with it. It wasn't until a few years into this I discovered a had developed a reputation as an unreliable companion that others did not expose them selves to. I sometimes wish I had a memo I could send out to everyone who knew me at this time. Sort of a ,please excuse Susan for her activies in the mid 80s. She was going through adolescences.
Now I have come full circle. I work with people and they intimate thoughts all day.But I would never reveal anything that is said to me ,even under threat of eye gouging. I have had a couple of people socially tell me in the last couple of years I am hard to get to know. That I am guarded. Maybe to some extent that is true. But I also feel like I am such a total marshmallow. It takes so very little to get me to a raw space. I just don't choose to go there with someone I just met on the bus or on a bar stool. call me aloof.
Strangely I am not bombed by this. I am still feeling my way through this whole blog thing. What is ethical to talk about. What might come back to haunt me. While I have chosen not to post my name and picture, it still could be figured out with out too much trouble who I am and following , who I am talking about. In particular, my family.
What the lost post was about was almost entirely about the folks. Nothing I said was dishonest, or even an exaggeration. But they might have found it to be a betrayal of sorts. They are all so internal. To have others be aware of what is going on for them in their deeper selves is so totally out of character. It was the cause of my feeling very lonely as a kid, no one was talking about what was going on. I thought I was the only one experiencing the events around me.
When I hit my teens I went through a period of being an intense gossip. I am not proud of this but I do have sympathy for this era of my life. Because now I finally had friends and they were talking about their adventures. It was blissful.You would talk about the events leading up to,then catch up while it was going on, then recap after it was over. And then recap with 7 other people who had nothing to do with it. It wasn't until a few years into this I discovered a had developed a reputation as an unreliable companion that others did not expose them selves to. I sometimes wish I had a memo I could send out to everyone who knew me at this time. Sort of a ,please excuse Susan for her activies in the mid 80s. She was going through adolescences.
Now I have come full circle. I work with people and they intimate thoughts all day.But I would never reveal anything that is said to me ,even under threat of eye gouging. I have had a couple of people socially tell me in the last couple of years I am hard to get to know. That I am guarded. Maybe to some extent that is true. But I also feel like I am such a total marshmallow. It takes so very little to get me to a raw space. I just don't choose to go there with someone I just met on the bus or on a bar stool. call me aloof.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
My dad can out charm your dad
So the initial pickup action was awful. Dad's pain factor goes way up when he has to sit up straight.( Ok with my father's adolescent Staten Island posture , he has never stood up straight in his life.) But the train ride sucked the life out of him.Then the escalator to the street was going down rather than up. Thanks for your help and logic Penn Station ! Some how makes the potential skills of the bomb sniffing dogs allot less threatening. Then we managed to get a cab with a newbie driver who didn't know that Amsterdam follows Broadway. And then there was the traffic on the West Side highway. My dad was literally trembling in pain.
Some times in my life I have been with other family's in times of crisis and stress .At these moments you can pick up some wacky trivia. Like the fact that others do not nesasarly process things like your pack. I have seen some crowds do this thing when things get tense, they start chatting, getting louder,making small talk. Bizarre. My family we get so quiet ,we could be confused with candidates for the monastery.If it wasn't for those wonderful little TVs that they now force upon us in the back of cabs, our ride would have been mute.
So I get him to my place. he was wincing just walking down the length of the lobby. And we get into the elevator with 3 neighbors. A very sweet middle aged woman who I am on a pleasant,"Hi, how are you today? ', basis with, and 2 over energetic teen aged boys. I am internally in this dialog of begging the boys to bring it down a notch. Don't accidentally bump into my daddy and topple him.
The woman is chatting with the boys about basketball which it turns out she played in high school. And then she turns to my father and declares quite loudly how handsome he is. I agree about my good gene pool. The boys laugh. I mention that my dad played college ball. The boys are now interested. What team? My dad says that he was too slow, not enough follow through at the net. The boys are gracious about opening the door of the elevator for us. And this is why I love my building.
We get home. Dad takes a bath, has a ginger ale with painkillers, followed by a brandy. Needless to say his mood kicks up.He has no interest in the home made soup I made for dinner but wants cereal and a Boston Cream Cupcake I bought him. Things are rocking now. we turn on MSNBC in his room. He has a crush on Tina Fey. Wants to discuss how much money she is worth. Wants to know about have I heard about John Stewart's recent speech at a local college. It seems Stewart at the climax of the speech said, " And I have a message for Sarah Palin.FUCK YOU!" Dad giggles like a 8 year old. I consider how many fathers of friends of mine who might have found this offensive and disrespectful vs a moment of delight.
Later on I am drinking peppermint tea by my self and very aware how my dad has ruined me for all normal dudes, for better and worse.
Some times in my life I have been with other family's in times of crisis and stress .At these moments you can pick up some wacky trivia. Like the fact that others do not nesasarly process things like your pack. I have seen some crowds do this thing when things get tense, they start chatting, getting louder,making small talk. Bizarre. My family we get so quiet ,we could be confused with candidates for the monastery.If it wasn't for those wonderful little TVs that they now force upon us in the back of cabs, our ride would have been mute.
So I get him to my place. he was wincing just walking down the length of the lobby. And we get into the elevator with 3 neighbors. A very sweet middle aged woman who I am on a pleasant,"Hi, how are you today? ', basis with, and 2 over energetic teen aged boys. I am internally in this dialog of begging the boys to bring it down a notch. Don't accidentally bump into my daddy and topple him.
The woman is chatting with the boys about basketball which it turns out she played in high school. And then she turns to my father and declares quite loudly how handsome he is. I agree about my good gene pool. The boys laugh. I mention that my dad played college ball. The boys are now interested. What team? My dad says that he was too slow, not enough follow through at the net. The boys are gracious about opening the door of the elevator for us. And this is why I love my building.
We get home. Dad takes a bath, has a ginger ale with painkillers, followed by a brandy. Needless to say his mood kicks up.He has no interest in the home made soup I made for dinner but wants cereal and a Boston Cream Cupcake I bought him. Things are rocking now. we turn on MSNBC in his room. He has a crush on Tina Fey. Wants to discuss how much money she is worth. Wants to know about have I heard about John Stewart's recent speech at a local college. It seems Stewart at the climax of the speech said, " And I have a message for Sarah Palin.FUCK YOU!" Dad giggles like a 8 year old. I consider how many fathers of friends of mine who might have found this offensive and disrespectful vs a moment of delight.
Later on I am drinking peppermint tea by my self and very aware how my dad has ruined me for all normal dudes, for better and worse.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Wash rinse repeat
In a couple of hours I have to go downtown and pick up my father from Penn Station. Simple enough thing. Urban adult children pick up their aging parents coming from more rural areas all hours of the day in this great country of hours. At this very minute there are strained looking middle aged people forcing them selves to smile in every airport, Greyhound depot and Amtrak station in every city of this nation. I will just be one of the masses.
I just wish.......I don't know. After all that has happened in the last couple of years with his health, why does this get to me so much? It's not like this is some big shock, like seeing someone after they have had a stroke. He will be much what he was last month, which was much like the one before that. It's just like there is this line graph across his far head that charts the quality of his life. And the line goes steadily down further and further. Last year his hope was that he would be able to play a round of golf again. Now what he dreams of is to be able to some day drive himself into the town over and take part of the afternoon to just walk around the good bookstore. What kind of life is that? To want such a simple pleasure and know it may never happen. It's like when my grandmother was dying. One of the last clear things she said was, " I miss bacon." Somehow that kills me more than I can say.
Part of this sadness is the remarkable difference between who he was physically when I was growing up compared to who I am now. My mother and aunt are in crazy ridiculous good shape for their ages. My mother takes yoga and has balance skills I come no where close to. She was proud to tell me that last month on a trip to Italy with her friends, she was the only one her age who was hiking up those Carlioni hills. When I call my aunt, it is not unusual for her to chirp about how she is off to her stretching class, or is just back from the pool. So while they are older, get tired more easily, wear down faster, they are still them . Dad isn't.
While I know I come by my deep connection to my inner sloth from my dad, he was a physical man. He was a jock , played basketball in college. That was in his wiring. And while he worked on the writing ,production, administrative end of things, his work was with athletes. There was a deep mutual respect between those he covered because he knew what it was to be skilled . This wasn't vacant lot, hanging with the famous boys and girls,kissing ass ,TV commentator crap.He understood what true body based gifts looked like.
He was big. He has a crappy diet,bad exercise habits. Been overweight most of his life. But there was also real strength. Some of my happiest early childhood memories involve his throwing me on his shoulders. it felt so safe and exciting way up there. When we moved to the country he fell immediately in love with his property. He was the most remarkable gardener for some one who never came near a seed packet till well into middle age.He could spend whole weekend digging and weeding and hacking away. I have all these flashing images. Him with the mover, the shovel, the axe. Sweating, controlling,creating. That man is all gone now. I miss him.
Now what is left is this shrunken physical shell.I always have to keep my anxiety level in check. Will he get off the train all right? Will he make it up the stairs by himself? Will some Son of a bitch mow into him because he isn't going fast enough?Will he feel safe enough in my home?In the bathroom, in his bed?Will the world respect his age and needs?
I will be so relieved when my Mom shows up tomorrow. The knot in my left shoulder may just magically go away.
I just wish.......I don't know. After all that has happened in the last couple of years with his health, why does this get to me so much? It's not like this is some big shock, like seeing someone after they have had a stroke. He will be much what he was last month, which was much like the one before that. It's just like there is this line graph across his far head that charts the quality of his life. And the line goes steadily down further and further. Last year his hope was that he would be able to play a round of golf again. Now what he dreams of is to be able to some day drive himself into the town over and take part of the afternoon to just walk around the good bookstore. What kind of life is that? To want such a simple pleasure and know it may never happen. It's like when my grandmother was dying. One of the last clear things she said was, " I miss bacon." Somehow that kills me more than I can say.
Part of this sadness is the remarkable difference between who he was physically when I was growing up compared to who I am now. My mother and aunt are in crazy ridiculous good shape for their ages. My mother takes yoga and has balance skills I come no where close to. She was proud to tell me that last month on a trip to Italy with her friends, she was the only one her age who was hiking up those Carlioni hills. When I call my aunt, it is not unusual for her to chirp about how she is off to her stretching class, or is just back from the pool. So while they are older, get tired more easily, wear down faster, they are still them . Dad isn't.
While I know I come by my deep connection to my inner sloth from my dad, he was a physical man. He was a jock , played basketball in college. That was in his wiring. And while he worked on the writing ,production, administrative end of things, his work was with athletes. There was a deep mutual respect between those he covered because he knew what it was to be skilled . This wasn't vacant lot, hanging with the famous boys and girls,kissing ass ,TV commentator crap.He understood what true body based gifts looked like.
He was big. He has a crappy diet,bad exercise habits. Been overweight most of his life. But there was also real strength. Some of my happiest early childhood memories involve his throwing me on his shoulders. it felt so safe and exciting way up there. When we moved to the country he fell immediately in love with his property. He was the most remarkable gardener for some one who never came near a seed packet till well into middle age.He could spend whole weekend digging and weeding and hacking away. I have all these flashing images. Him with the mover, the shovel, the axe. Sweating, controlling,creating. That man is all gone now. I miss him.
Now what is left is this shrunken physical shell.I always have to keep my anxiety level in check. Will he get off the train all right? Will he make it up the stairs by himself? Will some Son of a bitch mow into him because he isn't going fast enough?Will he feel safe enough in my home?In the bathroom, in his bed?Will the world respect his age and needs?
I will be so relieved when my Mom shows up tomorrow. The knot in my left shoulder may just magically go away.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
IT CAN WALK! IT CAN WALK!
So I am sort of -kind of- human today.Still not ready to get back to jogging or eat 3 meals a day. But I's doing OK. I am back in the law office today. Hey want to know what's fun? Debating with psychofrenics about disability policy issues!
See they are paranoid and unhappy all ready. But they are also kind of locked into their personal view point and are not going to shift. They get our phone number from some disability law help group listing that says we help out. I speak to them and say we do help, but not with what you need help with. Would you like to help you find someone to help you? Why wont you help me? Because it's not the type of law we practice. Because we don't have unlimited resources and we need to specialise to be affective. What do you? I tell briefly what we do. Well my issue is sort of like that, why won't you help me? Because your issue is nothing like that actually, so we can't help you. Why not ? BECAUSE I AM THE MOTHER AND I SAID NO!!!!!!!
I had dinner with a friend of mine and her two kids who is the role model of how to be a super urban single mom.The experience of hanging with the three of them is just real comfortable. No one is getting hyper about anything because there is nothing to create drama out of. It's dinner,not a tribal display, not attention /approval seeking event. It's your getting a burger, you are getting pasta. All's good. The Mom is question is patient but the kids are not producing events where having bulk patience is needed. It was a real pleasure to be with that clan.Where do you sign up for such a family set up/
See they are paranoid and unhappy all ready. But they are also kind of locked into their personal view point and are not going to shift. They get our phone number from some disability law help group listing that says we help out. I speak to them and say we do help, but not with what you need help with. Would you like to help you find someone to help you? Why wont you help me? Because it's not the type of law we practice. Because we don't have unlimited resources and we need to specialise to be affective. What do you? I tell briefly what we do. Well my issue is sort of like that, why won't you help me? Because your issue is nothing like that actually, so we can't help you. Why not ? BECAUSE I AM THE MOTHER AND I SAID NO!!!!!!!
I had dinner with a friend of mine and her two kids who is the role model of how to be a super urban single mom.The experience of hanging with the three of them is just real comfortable. No one is getting hyper about anything because there is nothing to create drama out of. It's dinner,not a tribal display, not attention /approval seeking event. It's your getting a burger, you are getting pasta. All's good. The Mom is question is patient but the kids are not producing events where having bulk patience is needed. It was a real pleasure to be with that clan.Where do you sign up for such a family set up/
Monday, October 20, 2008
In which we find our author wondering if she will ever revive....
It was pointed out to me today by a mother figure who did not give birth to me, that I may in fact have a virus. Most of the sore throat,coughing,sneezing, head made on Spackle textured snot is gone. Now I am just very very tired. I spent most of the day in bed. I don't recall if I actually slept.I think I just lay there seeping into the mattress. I have visions of some tiny vampire like creatures sucking the energy out of my body. Why aren't they doing this on someone in a higher end neighborhood?
There is so much to be done. Marketing my business for one. I have got to start being a sort of door to door salesman for myself. Throwing my business cards at people who still have disposable income. I need to redo the web site. Track down recommendations. I need to get the greys out of my hair, drop 20 pounds so I can be TV friendly. So I can sit on the couch with Matt L in the morning and give chipper advise about ways to look changes we are all facing. "Well the great depression created all sort of wonderful art forms,like gangster movies!"
And some how I got the dates wrong and it's biting me in the ass. In 2 days my parents will be in town for a marathon of doctors appointments for my dad. I want my home to be welcoming and cheerful .Instead I am just aware of hair and lots of little pieces of paper. And some how in late October I got an family of flys that are having a Marti Gra going on in here. Not a flyswatter in all of the upper west side. I should dust, vacuum, kill vermin. I can't. My sitting upright at the moment is the big event of the afternoon. Bending over to plug in the noisy sucky thing will not work.
And don't even get me started on how gross the fridge is. And now I have to worry about having enough supplies for my folks. I have enough for dinners, but they have all these wacky nutrition needs.Like they eat breakfast.What's that about? And they use allot more fluids than I do. I need the house stock piled with orange juice, ginerale,good red wine. All of these things in them selves are reasonable. All I am saying is I would like to have use of an elf, or a man servant, or a Girl Friday, or a house slave,or a whipped spouse for about 48 hours.
i have to play host at my monthly book club in less than 4 hours.It will be easier to put on foundation than charm.
There is so much to be done. Marketing my business for one. I have got to start being a sort of door to door salesman for myself. Throwing my business cards at people who still have disposable income. I need to redo the web site. Track down recommendations. I need to get the greys out of my hair, drop 20 pounds so I can be TV friendly. So I can sit on the couch with Matt L in the morning and give chipper advise about ways to look changes we are all facing. "Well the great depression created all sort of wonderful art forms,like gangster movies!"
And some how I got the dates wrong and it's biting me in the ass. In 2 days my parents will be in town for a marathon of doctors appointments for my dad. I want my home to be welcoming and cheerful .Instead I am just aware of hair and lots of little pieces of paper. And some how in late October I got an family of flys that are having a Marti Gra going on in here. Not a flyswatter in all of the upper west side. I should dust, vacuum, kill vermin. I can't. My sitting upright at the moment is the big event of the afternoon. Bending over to plug in the noisy sucky thing will not work.
And don't even get me started on how gross the fridge is. And now I have to worry about having enough supplies for my folks. I have enough for dinners, but they have all these wacky nutrition needs.Like they eat breakfast.What's that about? And they use allot more fluids than I do. I need the house stock piled with orange juice, ginerale,good red wine. All of these things in them selves are reasonable. All I am saying is I would like to have use of an elf, or a man servant, or a Girl Friday, or a house slave,or a whipped spouse for about 48 hours.
i have to play host at my monthly book club in less than 4 hours.It will be easier to put on foundation than charm.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
facts
NYquil = Good
Neighbors cars alarm that has been on for about 3 hours straight =Bad
311 call where they imform me that I have to go down and get licenece plate number and make of care before they do anything about it =SONSOF*(^%#^%gf6%(&%(&^574r&^$%$ $*^%*%$%!!!!!!!!!!
That is all.
Neighbors cars alarm that has been on for about 3 hours straight =Bad
311 call where they imform me that I have to go down and get licenece plate number and make of care before they do anything about it =SONSOF*(^%#^%gf6%(&%(&^574r&^$%$ $*^%*%$%!!!!!!!!!!
That is all.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Boring ways to be like your father
So we are day 3 of the head cold . I feel like Walter Cronkite during the Iran hostage crisis.When will the horror be over. I canceled 2 events I had planned for the day .One was going to Brooklyn to check out a co-housing group that is forming. The second was going to the memorial of a friends father. That one I am obviously more guilty about.
But it's being held in a retirement center with many many old people. I called my aunt who lives in such a place and asked if it was a reasonable thing to go. She asked me if I could make it through the event without sneezing, coughing or blowing my nose. I reply ed I could not get through a commercial break without doing one of those three actions. She said I would scare the old people.Send a nice note. Sensible advice. I still feel like a turkey.
I am making a list of things I am grateful today I am not, considering half of my head is not working. I am grateful that today I am not the single parent of a hyperactive 3 year old. I am grateful I own no cattle that need to be fed,cleaned after and milked.I am grateful I do not work in an industreral factory or as a perfume display girl in a shopping mall, or any profession where I would have to stand all day surrounded by smelly things.
Things I am grateful for.because gentrification has not hit my neighborhood yet,there is a small family supermarket across the street where I can get juice and Kleenex when the supplies run out. I would not even have to put on socks,just in and out. I am grateful that I have this weird thing that when it gets to be about 5 o'clock, I start to feel better and social again. So the whole day may not be a wash of misery . There may even be an outing to the movies with a friend. That my couch is about 6 inches deeper than the average one,so you can totally sack out in a excessive way. And I love the remote.
But it's being held in a retirement center with many many old people. I called my aunt who lives in such a place and asked if it was a reasonable thing to go. She asked me if I could make it through the event without sneezing, coughing or blowing my nose. I reply ed I could not get through a commercial break without doing one of those three actions. She said I would scare the old people.Send a nice note. Sensible advice. I still feel like a turkey.
I am making a list of things I am grateful today I am not, considering half of my head is not working. I am grateful that today I am not the single parent of a hyperactive 3 year old. I am grateful I own no cattle that need to be fed,cleaned after and milked.I am grateful I do not work in an industreral factory or as a perfume display girl in a shopping mall, or any profession where I would have to stand all day surrounded by smelly things.
Things I am grateful for.because gentrification has not hit my neighborhood yet,there is a small family supermarket across the street where I can get juice and Kleenex when the supplies run out. I would not even have to put on socks,just in and out. I am grateful that I have this weird thing that when it gets to be about 5 o'clock, I start to feel better and social again. So the whole day may not be a wash of misery . There may even be an outing to the movies with a friend. That my couch is about 6 inches deeper than the average one,so you can totally sack out in a excessive way. And I love the remote.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Humpty Dumpy
Today we have reached the crappy half way point of a cold. I can't breathe through my nose, stairs are a bad idea, all I have wanted for lunch is juice and Swedish fish. My patience and sense of humour is running low. I am at work right now and told my office mate if I sound snarly with clients ,she has permission to turn it down a notch.
Last night I woke up at 3 am because of desperate need for water and found I couldn't go back to sleep. I stayed for a long while watching a documentary on male gay sex in New York City in the 70s. With pictures and everything. Wasn't even titillated. All I could think about was if tacking poppers make your abs tight. Because as far as these historic images of the bath houses and piers were concerned, there was not a flabby boy in all of Manhattan in the age of disco.
Made me remember this guy I knew back in my actor days in the 80s. One of the many pretty gay gents who taught be to dance and love my cleavage. He told me he loved to have sex when he was sick. He described it as a dirty slow motion experience that killed the boredom of lying around all day. I was kind of disgusted and turned on by his description. Particularly when I found out that he was HIV positive. Made me wonder about how much time he had on his hands to be in bed feeling rotten ,seeking a distraction. I have no idea what happened to him,if he made it. I can't recall his name .Great, now I am sick and old sounding.
Part of my blahness is I made no effort in getting dressed this morning. It was a mostly /shield me from the outside world attire. I caught a glance at my self. I am the princess of dowdy this afternoon. Nothing quite works together. When I go home I have decide if the first thing I am going to do is sack out or change out of these slacks.
Last night I woke up at 3 am because of desperate need for water and found I couldn't go back to sleep. I stayed for a long while watching a documentary on male gay sex in New York City in the 70s. With pictures and everything. Wasn't even titillated. All I could think about was if tacking poppers make your abs tight. Because as far as these historic images of the bath houses and piers were concerned, there was not a flabby boy in all of Manhattan in the age of disco.
Made me remember this guy I knew back in my actor days in the 80s. One of the many pretty gay gents who taught be to dance and love my cleavage. He told me he loved to have sex when he was sick. He described it as a dirty slow motion experience that killed the boredom of lying around all day. I was kind of disgusted and turned on by his description. Particularly when I found out that he was HIV positive. Made me wonder about how much time he had on his hands to be in bed feeling rotten ,seeking a distraction. I have no idea what happened to him,if he made it. I can't recall his name .Great, now I am sick and old sounding.
Part of my blahness is I made no effort in getting dressed this morning. It was a mostly /shield me from the outside world attire. I caught a glance at my self. I am the princess of dowdy this afternoon. Nothing quite works together. When I go home I have decide if the first thing I am going to do is sack out or change out of these slacks.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Affection is bad for you
I can't prove this but my friend Fashion Diva 1# zapped me. She and I attend Quaker meeting together. I love her because she has this quality cheerful outsider. What I mean is she fits the Quaker profile of being ethical,smart,spiritual. She is committed to here beautiful family's well being and happiness. She runs the Sunday school program. But Quakers embrace physical dowdiness like a cloak of power. Most choose their whole wardrobes from thrift shop discount bins and NPR fundraisers. Fashion Diva is a clothing designers. And when she enters the silence , it with gold designer sandals that are to die for.
Anyway she had no voice on Sunday because she had a cold and I did this stupid self indulgent thing of hugging her in sympathy. And my payment for this was this morning I woke up with a killer cold.My throat is ripped up, my joints ache. I have no energy or appetite. But for the strangest reason my hair is very cute today. So God still loves me.
I went out to do daily actions of duty. Went down to my old neighborhood and found that my favorite butcher shop is closed. This place has been in business for almost 50 years. If I was speaking to begin with, I would be speechless. Then coming home I saw this pit bull puppy hanging out with my neighborhood business men. He was that great all limbs and ears age. He was rolling around on the pavement wanting affection and play. His owner kicked him. I then saw that his master was the dealer who lives up stairs from me. Speechless again. As I was opening my front door the dog ran in and licked my leg. I scratched his ear and called him baby. I suspect he will be punished for being such a sap.
I came home , grabbed a cat and went to bed. No one is allowed to ask anything more from me today.
Anyway she had no voice on Sunday because she had a cold and I did this stupid self indulgent thing of hugging her in sympathy. And my payment for this was this morning I woke up with a killer cold.My throat is ripped up, my joints ache. I have no energy or appetite. But for the strangest reason my hair is very cute today. So God still loves me.
I went out to do daily actions of duty. Went down to my old neighborhood and found that my favorite butcher shop is closed. This place has been in business for almost 50 years. If I was speaking to begin with, I would be speechless. Then coming home I saw this pit bull puppy hanging out with my neighborhood business men. He was that great all limbs and ears age. He was rolling around on the pavement wanting affection and play. His owner kicked him. I then saw that his master was the dealer who lives up stairs from me. Speechless again. As I was opening my front door the dog ran in and licked my leg. I scratched his ear and called him baby. I suspect he will be punished for being such a sap.
I came home , grabbed a cat and went to bed. No one is allowed to ask anything more from me today.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Lets pretend
Purely by luck I have seen as much theater in the last couple of weeks as I have seen all last year. As a member of a seat filler group, plus it being the new art season in NYC ,there have been allot of chances to see people make a spectacle of themselves in public. And because people are sitting in chairs facing them, they will actually be paid attention to. Which doesn't nessarly happen in New York . As a group we tend to get apathetically bored when people flail about or declair their love in front to us. It's seen as tacky and obvious.
As a nice jux position I have recently purchased a second hand DVD collection of the best of the James Bond movies. Why would a self righteous feminist need to spend money on this sort of the sexist ,exploited entertainment, in this economy? Because I love them. First of all I have a deep sentimentality for them. ABC used to show them on Sunday nights when I was a kid. Back in the day this was an event. While I love having access to every possible form of home entertainment at the press of a button, I miss specials. When one would look through the TV guide and spot that Thursday was going to be the one and only time Willie Wonka was going to be on this year. It brought on excitement and planning. Snacks were prepared, snuggly places set up. Cry of," IT"S STARTING ! GET IN HERE! IT"S STARTING ". One of the first words my younger niece learned to say was, " Pause."
60s Bond has the most wonderful colours. It's a living comic book. Skin tones look slightly unreal. Explosions are crayola orange. Lingerie looks sexier than it ever looks in real life because nothing is every quite those shades and textures. They are painted erotic. And the women. Bond girls are by far the most astounding bunch of beings that ever collected. And while perfect, there is still a reality to them that you never see now. They have flesh. Hips, thighs, and real bouncing breasts. And the bulk of them have plausible physical strength. I always respected James for getting hot for a fem who could potential take him down, as it were.
But the main thing is the man himself. Connery is so gifted in ways no one has ever given him credit for. He has the ability of -lets play pretend-. This guy has a laser that's going to take over the world, OK fine. Just met a woman named Pussy Galour or Plenty Otoole.Sure ,happens every day. There is no reasoning. No internal struggle. Just put on your tux and run. The bulk of the young actors I have seeing lately are so afraid of overacting, they give nothing for us as an audience to follow. They are having party's in their heads and souls but not sharing the event with us. It may be profound but its real boring.
Which leads us to the debates tonight. I think both of these men deeply care about our country. I think they desperately want to win. That they think they can make things better. Could they drop the programed reasonable contained answers tonight and go for it? Could they for an hour and half, not talk about how much they love the USA but show it? Reveal themselves, speak their immediate truth, give themselves to us. I want a crazy assed Goldfinger Octopussy hero for president not a middle school lunch monitor.
As a nice jux position I have recently purchased a second hand DVD collection of the best of the James Bond movies. Why would a self righteous feminist need to spend money on this sort of the sexist ,exploited entertainment, in this economy? Because I love them. First of all I have a deep sentimentality for them. ABC used to show them on Sunday nights when I was a kid. Back in the day this was an event. While I love having access to every possible form of home entertainment at the press of a button, I miss specials. When one would look through the TV guide and spot that Thursday was going to be the one and only time Willie Wonka was going to be on this year. It brought on excitement and planning. Snacks were prepared, snuggly places set up. Cry of," IT"S STARTING ! GET IN HERE! IT"S STARTING ". One of the first words my younger niece learned to say was, " Pause."
60s Bond has the most wonderful colours. It's a living comic book. Skin tones look slightly unreal. Explosions are crayola orange. Lingerie looks sexier than it ever looks in real life because nothing is every quite those shades and textures. They are painted erotic. And the women. Bond girls are by far the most astounding bunch of beings that ever collected. And while perfect, there is still a reality to them that you never see now. They have flesh. Hips, thighs, and real bouncing breasts. And the bulk of them have plausible physical strength. I always respected James for getting hot for a fem who could potential take him down, as it were.
But the main thing is the man himself. Connery is so gifted in ways no one has ever given him credit for. He has the ability of -lets play pretend-. This guy has a laser that's going to take over the world, OK fine. Just met a woman named Pussy Galour or Plenty Otoole.Sure ,happens every day. There is no reasoning. No internal struggle. Just put on your tux and run. The bulk of the young actors I have seeing lately are so afraid of overacting, they give nothing for us as an audience to follow. They are having party's in their heads and souls but not sharing the event with us. It may be profound but its real boring.
Which leads us to the debates tonight. I think both of these men deeply care about our country. I think they desperately want to win. That they think they can make things better. Could they drop the programed reasonable contained answers tonight and go for it? Could they for an hour and half, not talk about how much they love the USA but show it? Reveal themselves, speak their immediate truth, give themselves to us. I want a crazy assed Goldfinger Octopussy hero for president not a middle school lunch monitor.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Princess Aurora tribute
It has come to the conclusion of myself and several friends that the main topic of conversation when one becomes middle age is sleep. How little you have had, what form the lack has taken, how its taking away from your livelihood,social skills, and safety habits. We trade tips that we have all heard and tryed a million times. Its like dieting. Once knows that eating less- exercising more will normally do the trick. But telling someone else to do so makes you sound like you have some sort of expertise.
So we coach each other. Make you bed a welcoming place, clean sheets,comforting objects. Don't eat before bed.Do eat but only comforting food. Don't drink booze.Drink Jack Daniels. Try warm milk, try hemp tea.Try hemp anything. Mediation,pray,relaxation tapes. Don't watch Law and Order.Do watch the Mary Tyler Moore show.Exercises. Do nothing stressful. Take a long bath.Don't talk to your mother. Do have sex.Have sex but only if you are on the bottom. Sleep with a pet.Don't sleep in the same place as your lover. Visualise you are a horse running on an endless beach. Count sheep, numbers, thoughts. Over the counter allergy pills. melatonin. Charm Lolly pops.All have been suggested.All tryed.All failed.
Well I would like to announce that for the last 3 nights I have slept well . Not only that, every day I have taken a nap. Saturday I even had 2. And I haven't the foggiest of understanding why. Nothing dramatic has changed for me in the last couple of days. Nothing blissfully wonderful. Neither does anything new suck. I am not getting sick. I am not hiding from the world in depression. There has been no massage, no hot tubs, no new age tapes telling me how I am connected to all .Clueless I am.
All I know is I was sitting in a meeting yesterday and I had this thought," This is how a persons body is supposed to feel!" I have taken my weariness as a constant reality. My waking up and not being able to fall back to sleep again. Or waking up at 5 and being as tight as a guitar string, just has become normalised. I don't think I had a clue and how consistently yucky I have been feeling for months.
Back when Bill Clinton first ran for president, when they did human interest pieces on him , it was often mentioned how little sleep he needed a night. At the time I was wondering why this was a selling point. Does getting by on on 3-4 hours of rest make you a stronger more rational person then us saps who need a whopping 8? When the shit hit the fan with him I thought of course! He is too tired to know where he is putting his dick! maybe he was not using Monica so much as an abuse of power but rather as a way to keep his eyes open.
I am scared writing this I may jinx this incredible stretch of slumber. I will try not to think too much about it. Instead I will obsess a little about last night's episode of Mad Men.What the fuck was that?
So we coach each other. Make you bed a welcoming place, clean sheets,comforting objects. Don't eat before bed.Do eat but only comforting food. Don't drink booze.Drink Jack Daniels. Try warm milk, try hemp tea.Try hemp anything. Mediation,pray,relaxation tapes. Don't watch Law and Order.Do watch the Mary Tyler Moore show.Exercises. Do nothing stressful. Take a long bath.Don't talk to your mother. Do have sex.Have sex but only if you are on the bottom. Sleep with a pet.Don't sleep in the same place as your lover. Visualise you are a horse running on an endless beach. Count sheep, numbers, thoughts. Over the counter allergy pills. melatonin. Charm Lolly pops.All have been suggested.All tryed.All failed.
Well I would like to announce that for the last 3 nights I have slept well . Not only that, every day I have taken a nap. Saturday I even had 2. And I haven't the foggiest of understanding why. Nothing dramatic has changed for me in the last couple of days. Nothing blissfully wonderful. Neither does anything new suck. I am not getting sick. I am not hiding from the world in depression. There has been no massage, no hot tubs, no new age tapes telling me how I am connected to all .Clueless I am.
All I know is I was sitting in a meeting yesterday and I had this thought," This is how a persons body is supposed to feel!" I have taken my weariness as a constant reality. My waking up and not being able to fall back to sleep again. Or waking up at 5 and being as tight as a guitar string, just has become normalised. I don't think I had a clue and how consistently yucky I have been feeling for months.
Back when Bill Clinton first ran for president, when they did human interest pieces on him , it was often mentioned how little sleep he needed a night. At the time I was wondering why this was a selling point. Does getting by on on 3-4 hours of rest make you a stronger more rational person then us saps who need a whopping 8? When the shit hit the fan with him I thought of course! He is too tired to know where he is putting his dick! maybe he was not using Monica so much as an abuse of power but rather as a way to keep his eyes open.
I am scared writing this I may jinx this incredible stretch of slumber. I will try not to think too much about it. Instead I will obsess a little about last night's episode of Mad Men.What the fuck was that?
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Ghost town?
I was listening to Harry Shearer on Le Show this week talking about walking through London .He was wondering aloud how many of the shops he was window shopping from would still be open in a year. Walking through my neighborhood this morning I was thinking much of the same thing. In the last 2 weeks a new coffee place and a camera shop opening on Broadway. I was feeling very maternal towards them.
Then there are all the for rent signs. The bank that opened this summer now has pasted on signs that they are now owned by Chase.When I moved here it seemed so clever. Because it has to be the next boom area. Columbia is already buying property for its expansion. I saw visions restaurants that had portentous wine lists, cute shops that sold nothing that you needed but just liked a great deal. Now I don't know. I am nervous that the already desperate and bored will get more so. That a interesting new bakery, or dress boutique or pet shop, has as much chance getting support here as the no smoking in the elevator campaign in my building. Nice idea.
Then there are all the for rent signs. The bank that opened this summer now has pasted on signs that they are now owned by Chase.When I moved here it seemed so clever. Because it has to be the next boom area. Columbia is already buying property for its expansion. I saw visions restaurants that had portentous wine lists, cute shops that sold nothing that you needed but just liked a great deal. Now I don't know. I am nervous that the already desperate and bored will get more so. That a interesting new bakery, or dress boutique or pet shop, has as much chance getting support here as the no smoking in the elevator campaign in my building. Nice idea.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Compulsive Happy Home Maker
I do a big grocery shopping about every 2 weeks . The way I do it is inspired from a piece I read in the Times years ago. It by a single dad with two teenage sons. He was finding his life was being spent in the local A& P. He would go shopping and in two days the kids would start bitching about the fact that all the good food was gone. The dad finally law down the law when he saw how much of his life was being lost to this situation. He would go once a week. That's it. The kids would have to monitor when things like brownies were going to be doled out. After that, they had to create from what was in the fridge and cupboards. The article contained some pretty tasty is wacky recipes that were forged out of this mandate.
I build shopping lists from recipes I have printed and clipped out .I have a list of set meals I will do. Then its one big adventure. The ex-actress in me likes the improv. But I also like guests to be safe with me. Years ago I roomed with an friend whose family was from Egypt. From her I got it wired into me that one should always have food and tea in your house in case 40 or so relatives show up unannounced. I pride my self on this compulsion. There is a strong possibility for me to whip something up and act causal about it. Oh this rack of lamb, just something I had lying around.
Which comes to my shopping list question of the day : do you buy something that you are indifferent to or even dislike because others in your life do ? For example, my Mom only shows up here a few times a year and vice versa but we mutually keep a stash of each others coffee around because that is a sign of functionality and love. I will not work without caffeine,her on Italian cappichiones is a frightening thing to see. It makes things much more pleasant if the other one isn't suffering over morning beverages.
As it starts to cool down I drink lots of tea , but it almost all herbal. When ever a certain dear Canadian friend comes to visit, she looks at me with almost concern.How can I have a home with out ink black tea. What the hell is wrong with me? Could this be a the core of while I am still single? Should I add some English Breakfast herbs to me list so that she is a little relieved of her worry for me?
I build shopping lists from recipes I have printed and clipped out .I have a list of set meals I will do. Then its one big adventure. The ex-actress in me likes the improv. But I also like guests to be safe with me. Years ago I roomed with an friend whose family was from Egypt. From her I got it wired into me that one should always have food and tea in your house in case 40 or so relatives show up unannounced. I pride my self on this compulsion. There is a strong possibility for me to whip something up and act causal about it. Oh this rack of lamb, just something I had lying around.
Which comes to my shopping list question of the day : do you buy something that you are indifferent to or even dislike because others in your life do ? For example, my Mom only shows up here a few times a year and vice versa but we mutually keep a stash of each others coffee around because that is a sign of functionality and love. I will not work without caffeine,her on Italian cappichiones is a frightening thing to see. It makes things much more pleasant if the other one isn't suffering over morning beverages.
As it starts to cool down I drink lots of tea , but it almost all herbal. When ever a certain dear Canadian friend comes to visit, she looks at me with almost concern.How can I have a home with out ink black tea. What the hell is wrong with me? Could this be a the core of while I am still single? Should I add some English Breakfast herbs to me list so that she is a little relieved of her worry for me?
Thursday, October 9, 2008
In the Shadows of Greatness
Last night I went to see All My Sons on Broadway,Arthur Millers first biggie. My uncle died last year and a big part of his love affair with both my aunt and New York was regularly going to the theater. While I am a pore substitute for his huge vacancy, my aunt and I have become regular dates. About every 2 months one or the other will give each other a shout out of something we want to see and off we go to midtown.
Her daughter is a biggie at People magazine and asked us to go see Katie Holmes do her thing in her first stage appearance.Let us be at first positive. John Lithgow and Diane Weist are everything one wants out of an artist. They are astounding. They are skilled,they have history and stature on their side. But they also continue to take huge risks. They don't rely on their track record to get them by, they are still out there kicking ass and taking names, as it were.
With computer technology there seems to be this trend to try and make the theater experience more like going to the movies. Sometimes it works, like in last years Sunday in the Park, where you saw the painting form in front of you. That was breathtaking. But so much of it is just distracting. And worse, manipulative. It's like the production team doesn't have faith that they audience can get the point unless there is a soundtrack and dolly shot.And this production did in fact have a soundtrack. It was kind of insulting. A performer would start going to a new emotional depth and up would come the clarinets.
And now the soapbox. I love and respect Miller. About 10 years ago I saw him paid tribute to at PEN human rights eventing and I just walked away weeping and rev ed up. Oh yes the arts can change things for the better! ( Cut me a break, I was still in my 20s.)I found his autobiography a little creepy. All he seemed to want to talk about was the Anti -American hearings and Marilyn's skin. But over all we owe the gloomy dude allot.
All My Sons is the over dramatic work of a young man just trying on the play writing thing.It's a first try. Its good but not great. Why are we having to see the lesser work of gifted men being reproduced again and again while young new forces are getting no national forum? grumble grumble........ I got to give the box to someone who wants to say something obvious about off shore drilling........
Finally Katie. She was fine. She is very tall. She has very shiny hair. At the end of the evening my aunt wondered aloud if she gotten costume approval because the dress she wore in the second act didn't seem to fit the era. I thought it wasn't the dress , it was that Katie doesn't suit it. She has no plushness or curve. We gals were supposed to have softness for the boys to come home to. Katie's elbows look like they could poke out someones eye.
Her daughter is a biggie at People magazine and asked us to go see Katie Holmes do her thing in her first stage appearance.Let us be at first positive. John Lithgow and Diane Weist are everything one wants out of an artist. They are astounding. They are skilled,they have history and stature on their side. But they also continue to take huge risks. They don't rely on their track record to get them by, they are still out there kicking ass and taking names, as it were.
With computer technology there seems to be this trend to try and make the theater experience more like going to the movies. Sometimes it works, like in last years Sunday in the Park, where you saw the painting form in front of you. That was breathtaking. But so much of it is just distracting. And worse, manipulative. It's like the production team doesn't have faith that they audience can get the point unless there is a soundtrack and dolly shot.And this production did in fact have a soundtrack. It was kind of insulting. A performer would start going to a new emotional depth and up would come the clarinets.
And now the soapbox. I love and respect Miller. About 10 years ago I saw him paid tribute to at PEN human rights eventing and I just walked away weeping and rev ed up. Oh yes the arts can change things for the better! ( Cut me a break, I was still in my 20s.)I found his autobiography a little creepy. All he seemed to want to talk about was the Anti -American hearings and Marilyn's skin. But over all we owe the gloomy dude allot.
All My Sons is the over dramatic work of a young man just trying on the play writing thing.It's a first try. Its good but not great. Why are we having to see the lesser work of gifted men being reproduced again and again while young new forces are getting no national forum? grumble grumble........ I got to give the box to someone who wants to say something obvious about off shore drilling........
Finally Katie. She was fine. She is very tall. She has very shiny hair. At the end of the evening my aunt wondered aloud if she gotten costume approval because the dress she wore in the second act didn't seem to fit the era. I thought it wasn't the dress , it was that Katie doesn't suit it. She has no plushness or curve. We gals were supposed to have softness for the boys to come home to. Katie's elbows look like they could poke out someones eye.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Whiter than you
So twice a week I work at a disability law firm. I love them here.I started to volunteer years ago when I was too sick to work a real job but wanting to still make some sort of positive impact in the world.Then when I moved into coaching and spending most of my time in my home office, it became a way to still have an office social life. A world I could gossip about cute interns and raid the candy bowls.
What I do is intake calls. We are on a million lists as do-gooders who do free work for those in need.Which is true but all we do is class action cases for the most part.So we get all of these folks calling asking for help getting on SSD, trying to find some where to live that is wheel chair accessible, that sort of thing.I go through a date base and find someone who might actually help them.I am going to heaven.
For me it is a perfect gig. I do phone very well. I can be kind and sympathetic if your life sucks in a legitimate way. I also am very good at being evil. Meaning I have no guilt about cutting off sob story's that are not getting to the point.I also say" No" with great ease. People who off their meds don't generally scare me.Some times I can even talk them down into the land of the rational for a little while.
My only issue with the gig is watching how heavy duty my sense of judgemental is. You get a pretty good idea talking to people in trouble how they view the world and how they have lived their lives. Most folks are just trying to be responsible and find the right person who will help them out. They impress me enormously. Because while they are facing horrible issues like losing their homes or losing their 3 year old disability checks, they are level headed. They are going to get through this.
But then there are the professional victims. These are the people who bring out my inner Republican. They whine, they blame,they work the system. They have no interest in being proactive. They get belligerent when I explain that while my group can't help them, and I'm not a lawyer, I would love to give them names of lawyers who might be able to assistant. They curse me out. I am the man, who once again is fucking them over.When I am done with these kinds of calls, I look for candy.
Was just reading the New Yorker piece of voting in Ohio. My callers are the exact same people,just with zip codes in the Bronx. Please rock tonight Obama!
What I do is intake calls. We are on a million lists as do-gooders who do free work for those in need.Which is true but all we do is class action cases for the most part.So we get all of these folks calling asking for help getting on SSD, trying to find some where to live that is wheel chair accessible, that sort of thing.I go through a date base and find someone who might actually help them.I am going to heaven.
For me it is a perfect gig. I do phone very well. I can be kind and sympathetic if your life sucks in a legitimate way. I also am very good at being evil. Meaning I have no guilt about cutting off sob story's that are not getting to the point.I also say" No" with great ease. People who off their meds don't generally scare me.Some times I can even talk them down into the land of the rational for a little while.
My only issue with the gig is watching how heavy duty my sense of judgemental is. You get a pretty good idea talking to people in trouble how they view the world and how they have lived their lives. Most folks are just trying to be responsible and find the right person who will help them out. They impress me enormously. Because while they are facing horrible issues like losing their homes or losing their 3 year old disability checks, they are level headed. They are going to get through this.
But then there are the professional victims. These are the people who bring out my inner Republican. They whine, they blame,they work the system. They have no interest in being proactive. They get belligerent when I explain that while my group can't help them, and I'm not a lawyer, I would love to give them names of lawyers who might be able to assistant. They curse me out. I am the man, who once again is fucking them over.When I am done with these kinds of calls, I look for candy.
Was just reading the New Yorker piece of voting in Ohio. My callers are the exact same people,just with zip codes in the Bronx. Please rock tonight Obama!
Monday, October 6, 2008
Mundane reasons for gentrification
When I think about the pluses and minuses of staying in New York, in my neighborhood, on my street, it comes down what makes life simple. Wednesday I will have lunch with a friend who also lives in the neighborhood. We say what is in walking distance of both of our homes, cheap and pleasant. And the winner is : the diner. That's it. If you don't want Chinese or a big hunk of steak or the trendy places by the hospital, the diner it is.
Or simple fix it up tasks. There is no where within 10 blocks of my home that had Bluestik, the putty stuff you put posters up with in dorm rooms. And much more serious, no one has sugarless chocolate pudding. Not the instant crap.That stuff in any form just tastes about what was awful about the 1950s. It smells of chemicals and oppression. But the real mix with milk, cook, shove in your fridge for a while stuff is not half bad, particularly if you put the fat free cool whip on it. It actually feels like dessert , rather than punishment for a slow metabolism. But after searching 5 grocery stores none are too be found. This is tragic.
If anyone finds some, buy a few boxes for me and I will reimburse you for the happy blue boxes. I am stocking up for the winter.
Or simple fix it up tasks. There is no where within 10 blocks of my home that had Bluestik, the putty stuff you put posters up with in dorm rooms. And much more serious, no one has sugarless chocolate pudding. Not the instant crap.That stuff in any form just tastes about what was awful about the 1950s. It smells of chemicals and oppression. But the real mix with milk, cook, shove in your fridge for a while stuff is not half bad, particularly if you put the fat free cool whip on it. It actually feels like dessert , rather than punishment for a slow metabolism. But after searching 5 grocery stores none are too be found. This is tragic.
If anyone finds some, buy a few boxes for me and I will reimburse you for the happy blue boxes. I am stocking up for the winter.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Gloomy Sunday
My old apartment was on the second floor of a very nice street in a up and coming building. In the summer I thought nothing of sleeping with the windows open .No Big Blue meanies where going to come and get me in the night. Because the street was mellow I would rarely be disturbed by street noise. Sometimes you would hear so drunken banter of someone coming home late from a party but that was about it.
One night I was lying in bed just about to drift off in to the land of nod when I heard these two guys verbally going at right under my window. At first I thought I was listening to some would be actors rehearsing some workshop production of a Mamet one act. Then I realised this was real.Two middle aged brothers who had grown up in the neighborhood. Somewhere in one the nearby buildings was their aging,dying mother.
One of the brothers had at some time moved to Florida and made a shitload ( siblings term ) of money and sent cash back to mom to help out. Other sibling had not done so well, but had spent allot great deal of his recent life actively taking care of the mother.It was a remarkable discussion to listen to. The mutual, understandable resentments and hurt that they both had been building for years. At one point I felt I should yell out the window or at least cough loudly so they knew I could hear everything they were saying. But I got the sense that this was the first time they had really had it out and this was desperately needed. If I interrupted, they would have no were else to go and spit on each other.
Which leads us to today. Parents logistics cha- cha. My father has a new specialist he sees in the city.This is good.And I have a fairly flexible schedule and an extra bed room to put my parents up when they are in town .Glad to have them. But do to a whole thing that is too boring to get into, they have had to leave me hanging for the last 48 hours about if they were coming, when they would come, where they would need me to be if they would come. My father has this whole weird control thing about the things he will let my mother do to take care of him and the things he wants me to do. They are not to blur. So he wants to take stupid risks like traveling alone to come to me.Which stresses me out.The "what ifs" start going crazy in my head.End result is he is not coming this time but my house is child safe and my bathroom is very clean.
I have been having angry sad sleep the last week or so. I wake up pissed off or crying. My brother has chosen a very different life than me. He is married, has children, has a great deal of money, lives half way across the country.I could have decided to live a life like that too if I wanted. No one told me to stay here. Part of the resentment is the roles we play in our family.He is the logic based cheerleader. He asks the practical questions about doctors and such but he is never around for the mess. When he calls my parents , the conversations are about sports and charming things the grand kids have done. I get calls about physical and emotional distress. Oh maybe that's why I am alternately ticked off and weepy?
But mostly I am so mad that this all seems to fall on me and I don't have anyone in my family that I can lean on emotionally. If I felt I could say what I was feeling to someone who knew all the characters involved I wouldn't feel so isolated. But collectively my peers in my family want nothing to do with sharing. The best they can muster is, " I am sorry you feel this way." , and then walk away.
Over the years I have had this weird instinct to fall for men who have very tight relationships with their sisters. I would sit at dinner tables with these siblings and have them talk about dad's drinking, mom's depression, the general overall dysfunction of their family of origin. They would make jokes,say comments under their breathes,raise eyebrows ,speak the truth. I would long. I have stayed in more than one relationship too long because there would be the hope that I might be a part of a family that expresses what is going on.My brother has married into his dream family. His in laws are all very bright people who play board games, watch nothing but science fiction- action movies, and avoids anything the recalls painful history's. My sister in law no longer speaks to her mother or siblings. Someone makes you feel bad, they are sent away.
There are very few times I really crave being in a serious live in relationship again. Here is a brief list of when I do :
When I have the flu and wish I had someone who was obligated to bring me juice,ginger ale and jello.Not a kind friend who is going out of their way to do these things. I want someone who has to get me fluids because there is a legal document that says they are a ass hole if they don't.
When I have to get something from a very high shelf, fix a broken house hold object ,or tie up rec lying . I am short, bad with machines and tieing up papers by one self is an almost impossible task.
When a crazy romantic old movie like Casablanca comes on the tube on an random Thursday night and there is nothing else to do. Nuff Said about that.
When I hang up the phone after doing one more round of what are we going to do about dad, and I need someone to hold me for a change.
One night I was lying in bed just about to drift off in to the land of nod when I heard these two guys verbally going at right under my window. At first I thought I was listening to some would be actors rehearsing some workshop production of a Mamet one act. Then I realised this was real.Two middle aged brothers who had grown up in the neighborhood. Somewhere in one the nearby buildings was their aging,dying mother.
One of the brothers had at some time moved to Florida and made a shitload ( siblings term ) of money and sent cash back to mom to help out. Other sibling had not done so well, but had spent allot great deal of his recent life actively taking care of the mother.It was a remarkable discussion to listen to. The mutual, understandable resentments and hurt that they both had been building for years. At one point I felt I should yell out the window or at least cough loudly so they knew I could hear everything they were saying. But I got the sense that this was the first time they had really had it out and this was desperately needed. If I interrupted, they would have no were else to go and spit on each other.
Which leads us to today. Parents logistics cha- cha. My father has a new specialist he sees in the city.This is good.And I have a fairly flexible schedule and an extra bed room to put my parents up when they are in town .Glad to have them. But do to a whole thing that is too boring to get into, they have had to leave me hanging for the last 48 hours about if they were coming, when they would come, where they would need me to be if they would come. My father has this whole weird control thing about the things he will let my mother do to take care of him and the things he wants me to do. They are not to blur. So he wants to take stupid risks like traveling alone to come to me.Which stresses me out.The "what ifs" start going crazy in my head.End result is he is not coming this time but my house is child safe and my bathroom is very clean.
I have been having angry sad sleep the last week or so. I wake up pissed off or crying. My brother has chosen a very different life than me. He is married, has children, has a great deal of money, lives half way across the country.I could have decided to live a life like that too if I wanted. No one told me to stay here. Part of the resentment is the roles we play in our family.He is the logic based cheerleader. He asks the practical questions about doctors and such but he is never around for the mess. When he calls my parents , the conversations are about sports and charming things the grand kids have done. I get calls about physical and emotional distress. Oh maybe that's why I am alternately ticked off and weepy?
But mostly I am so mad that this all seems to fall on me and I don't have anyone in my family that I can lean on emotionally. If I felt I could say what I was feeling to someone who knew all the characters involved I wouldn't feel so isolated. But collectively my peers in my family want nothing to do with sharing. The best they can muster is, " I am sorry you feel this way." , and then walk away.
Over the years I have had this weird instinct to fall for men who have very tight relationships with their sisters. I would sit at dinner tables with these siblings and have them talk about dad's drinking, mom's depression, the general overall dysfunction of their family of origin. They would make jokes,say comments under their breathes,raise eyebrows ,speak the truth. I would long. I have stayed in more than one relationship too long because there would be the hope that I might be a part of a family that expresses what is going on.My brother has married into his dream family. His in laws are all very bright people who play board games, watch nothing but science fiction- action movies, and avoids anything the recalls painful history's. My sister in law no longer speaks to her mother or siblings. Someone makes you feel bad, they are sent away.
There are very few times I really crave being in a serious live in relationship again. Here is a brief list of when I do :
When I have the flu and wish I had someone who was obligated to bring me juice,ginger ale and jello.Not a kind friend who is going out of their way to do these things. I want someone who has to get me fluids because there is a legal document that says they are a ass hole if they don't.
When I have to get something from a very high shelf, fix a broken house hold object ,or tie up rec lying . I am short, bad with machines and tieing up papers by one self is an almost impossible task.
When a crazy romantic old movie like Casablanca comes on the tube on an random Thursday night and there is nothing else to do. Nuff Said about that.
When I hang up the phone after doing one more round of what are we going to do about dad, and I need someone to hold me for a change.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Won't you be my neighbor
A little portrait of 12 hours on my street. Last night I was coming home about 11:30 after seeing a incredible Lucinda Williams concert.( Note: If you are suffering from some sort of God Complex, drop it. Lucinda is the true all powerful, knowing source of energy in the Universe.) I was in a peppy, I love my city ,kind of mood that I am so grateful I can still have after all these years.
As I was walking home ,in front of me was a cluster of 4 20- somethings that you rarely see in my hood. They were clearly out of towners on an adventure. They were giggly,cheerful,squeaky. They had spunk. One of the young men who does regular commerce on my street walks up to them as says, " You people are not welcome in my neighborhood."
It's one of those moments where I wish I was more of bad ass. Yeah, these kids were kind of annoying. But to scare them , to threaten them , what's the point ? Other than to feel better about your self for a moment. Oh yeah, this guy sells drugs for a living. This is a man that whole like is about the not thought through short term action. But I still felt protective. I wanted to be able to say something to make them feel safe getting to their destination. But they seem to take it in stride as they screeched at the sight of the biggest dead rat one could hope to see. This thing in its prime could have taken on my parents spaniel.
This morning while doing the ritual tidying there was the sound of a voice on a megaphone announcing that everyone has to move their cars now. There is going to be a church event taking up the street. Jesus loves you and he will tow your van if you don't move your ass now.
The question is who is seen as more of a threat to the street action., white kids with college loans or the Movers for God.
As I was walking home ,in front of me was a cluster of 4 20- somethings that you rarely see in my hood. They were clearly out of towners on an adventure. They were giggly,cheerful,squeaky. They had spunk. One of the young men who does regular commerce on my street walks up to them as says, " You people are not welcome in my neighborhood."
It's one of those moments where I wish I was more of bad ass. Yeah, these kids were kind of annoying. But to scare them , to threaten them , what's the point ? Other than to feel better about your self for a moment. Oh yeah, this guy sells drugs for a living. This is a man that whole like is about the not thought through short term action. But I still felt protective. I wanted to be able to say something to make them feel safe getting to their destination. But they seem to take it in stride as they screeched at the sight of the biggest dead rat one could hope to see. This thing in its prime could have taken on my parents spaniel.
This morning while doing the ritual tidying there was the sound of a voice on a megaphone announcing that everyone has to move their cars now. There is going to be a church event taking up the street. Jesus loves you and he will tow your van if you don't move your ass now.
The question is who is seen as more of a threat to the street action., white kids with college loans or the Movers for God.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Assignment for the day
1.Download Paul Simon's "American Tune " on to Ipod.
2.Bring Ipod with you on New York city subway or other form of public transport during work day travel.
3.Play song while you look at fellow riders.
4.Chat with 3 year old little girl who gives you tic tacs and offers you grapes.
5. Feel better about the state of the world.
2.Bring Ipod with you on New York city subway or other form of public transport during work day travel.
3.Play song while you look at fellow riders.
4.Chat with 3 year old little girl who gives you tic tacs and offers you grapes.
5. Feel better about the state of the world.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Let's Play Pretend
This week a class I have been taking on marketing came to an end. I am of two minds on this.One one hand it was great for me to have done this. I know next to nothing about starting a small business/private practice other than it involves a fair amount of begging wrapped in the package of kiss up. I did get allot done in the months I have been taken this on and I am grateful for that.
However on the other hand: Whoopeeeee! Bring on the dancing boys ! I know longer have to spend my Tuesday nights feeling like a loser negative dork, whining about the fact that I don't want to write one of those 10 steps to making your life better articles to get new clients. They are icky .Even if it is the latest trend, I do not want my website to have audible testimonials of my clients that others can hear.It's whorish and cheesy.Pukey eww.
But on the last class the teacher did talk about the whole concept of money and what she referred to as ones temperature gage about it. That we all have this thing in side of us that says, this is how much money I am allowed to make. Most of us don't go above a certain level because we have beliefs systems about what that would mean. For me, I have always been good at earning money for other people but not for myself. I think there is this click in me that says, if I had all the money I needed, no longer in any kind of cash crisis, no one would ever take care of me in any way ever again. So I stay in this adolescent,starving artist mode ,so I don't have to be this completely hard ass New York woman, fuck you I can pay for my own pedicure, mode.
So what the teacher suggested was doing a sort of visualization about the thermometer. On it is how much you make right now, then add to it what you would like to earn. For me it's adding another 30,000 to the temperature. It's reasonable. It's not asking the world. But it would make a huge difference in my lifestyle. Writing this freaks me out. This issue makes me super uncomfortable. But this is part of why we are doing this blog thing, right? A form of outing one self.
I need to go run away now.
However on the other hand: Whoopeeeee! Bring on the dancing boys ! I know longer have to spend my Tuesday nights feeling like a loser negative dork, whining about the fact that I don't want to write one of those 10 steps to making your life better articles to get new clients. They are icky .Even if it is the latest trend, I do not want my website to have audible testimonials of my clients that others can hear.It's whorish and cheesy.Pukey eww.
But on the last class the teacher did talk about the whole concept of money and what she referred to as ones temperature gage about it. That we all have this thing in side of us that says, this is how much money I am allowed to make. Most of us don't go above a certain level because we have beliefs systems about what that would mean. For me, I have always been good at earning money for other people but not for myself. I think there is this click in me that says, if I had all the money I needed, no longer in any kind of cash crisis, no one would ever take care of me in any way ever again. So I stay in this adolescent,starving artist mode ,so I don't have to be this completely hard ass New York woman, fuck you I can pay for my own pedicure, mode.
So what the teacher suggested was doing a sort of visualization about the thermometer. On it is how much you make right now, then add to it what you would like to earn. For me it's adding another 30,000 to the temperature. It's reasonable. It's not asking the world. But it would make a huge difference in my lifestyle. Writing this freaks me out. This issue makes me super uncomfortable. But this is part of why we are doing this blog thing, right? A form of outing one self.
I need to go run away now.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Embracing my inner Maria Von Trapp
So instead of harping on the unknown and scary,let's play a game off listing a few things that made up happy today. Or at least content.
1.checks cleared. I know that is one of those things that one should just expect to have happen but to no longer have to look at the over draft in my account , the guilt that someone might call me for being a bad girl, huge friggin relief.
2.A volunteer job I have had for years has offered me a paying position for doing what I have doing all along. Very sweet complement to come from a not for profit, in this week of all weeks.
3.Because of said job, I will now me eligible for low cost health insurance as of next month.
4. A package of new clothes was brought to me by the UPS man. Even when I give them to myself, I love the Wells Fargo Wagon. Opening the bounty makes me bunny rabbit cheerful. And it was items on super gigantic sale. A basic black dress, cool stripey trousers and a little white tee shirt for a total of 72 bucks. I am God of shopping.
5. I no longer have to make my self like early Ingmar Bergman movies. I get it, he's brilliant, he changed cinema. He's a drag with a mother complex. At least when Woody Allen pulled this stuff the apartments were better looking. Strangely I love allot of his later work. The whole red living room thing with the women in white, dig it . But I can take all of the 50s-60s stuff off the Netflix list. I have nothing to prove anymore.
6. The lunchtime special from the Chinese place of decent. Not over wrought with peanut oil like last time.
7. My compulsively political friend is making her schedule free to come and watch the debates with me tomorrow. She is working on her dissertation, so she has been crazy glued to her desk the last 2 years. Then she got a dog. I wonder what she even looks like now. But she will come tomorrow and obsess with me over every tiny freakish detail . Glee.
8.John Steinbeck. I know he great but he is one of those people you take for granted his greatness because it's just assumed. And then if you are smart enough you pick it up some of his best work and you realise that this man is better than most people walking around is socks. He is totally in love with humanity. I have a new moody brilliant drunk to have a crush on.
9.The drug dealer upstairs ,who I am very found of but have has run ins with, told me today that he has gotten a job with con Ed and is going back to school. To study business organization.
1.checks cleared. I know that is one of those things that one should just expect to have happen but to no longer have to look at the over draft in my account , the guilt that someone might call me for being a bad girl, huge friggin relief.
2.A volunteer job I have had for years has offered me a paying position for doing what I have doing all along. Very sweet complement to come from a not for profit, in this week of all weeks.
3.Because of said job, I will now me eligible for low cost health insurance as of next month.
4. A package of new clothes was brought to me by the UPS man. Even when I give them to myself, I love the Wells Fargo Wagon. Opening the bounty makes me bunny rabbit cheerful. And it was items on super gigantic sale. A basic black dress, cool stripey trousers and a little white tee shirt for a total of 72 bucks. I am God of shopping.
5. I no longer have to make my self like early Ingmar Bergman movies. I get it, he's brilliant, he changed cinema. He's a drag with a mother complex. At least when Woody Allen pulled this stuff the apartments were better looking. Strangely I love allot of his later work. The whole red living room thing with the women in white, dig it . But I can take all of the 50s-60s stuff off the Netflix list. I have nothing to prove anymore.
6. The lunchtime special from the Chinese place of decent. Not over wrought with peanut oil like last time.
7. My compulsively political friend is making her schedule free to come and watch the debates with me tomorrow. She is working on her dissertation, so she has been crazy glued to her desk the last 2 years. Then she got a dog. I wonder what she even looks like now. But she will come tomorrow and obsess with me over every tiny freakish detail . Glee.
8.John Steinbeck. I know he great but he is one of those people you take for granted his greatness because it's just assumed. And then if you are smart enough you pick it up some of his best work and you realise that this man is better than most people walking around is socks. He is totally in love with humanity. I have a new moody brilliant drunk to have a crush on.
9.The drug dealer upstairs ,who I am very found of but have has run ins with, told me today that he has gotten a job with con Ed and is going back to school. To study business organization.
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