For the first time ever since I graduated from fifth grade, I am going to have a birthday party. Yes, it's true. In the past I have been too shy or felt like it was too egomaniacal to have a birthday party, but this year, I am throwing caution to the wind. Howeva, because I want a lot of people to come and boogie down, I want to get a sense of where people would like to go. Here are some options, please leave a comment and let me know your top two:
1. The Standard Hotel rooftop bar - absolutely incredible view. Drinks are slightly pricey, but I am thinking I will get a room, and we can just drink there before we go up.
2. The Red Lion - we could have some small eats at my house before, and then go over to the bar for boots of beer.
3. The Shortstop - we might have to fight crowds here, but it is always a good time.
4. Rollerskating - I don't know where yet, but it could be fun.
5. Other suggestions?
Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. Oh, and if it matters, it would be on the 30th of this month.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Monday, September 12, 2005
Importance of self-importance
(Just a note, due to the political nature of my job, I have to speak in abstractions, so I apologize for the lack of detail.)
Yesterday I had such a miserable day at work that I had to take a mini sabbatical to the beach. It wasn't so much that the work was miserable, it was just the fact that I had to listen to people attack that lovely organization I work for for hours on end. Yes, the big monster bureaucracy sucks. I don't mind people pointing out what is wrong, but I do mind it when they don't have a solution.
At one meeting, I happened to get myself into the position of "dart board." Pretty much everyone at the table started talking at me about what they hate about their school, the reforms, etc. Again, part of my job is to listen, so I didn't mind this so much. But when I asked the people what they would do to change it, they just stared. OK, so, I think we have established that we know shit sucks, but it is hard to clean it up. No one has the answers. We have a lot of things we think might work.
It made me sick to my stomach though, that I was so helpless. There was absolutely nothing I could do at that moment for the teachers I was talking to. All I could do was sit there and respond with I-statements. I understand. I see your point. I know how you feel. I agree. It was the same with the parents at the other meeting. I understand. I know it is a huge problem. I am going to work on that.
At the end of the day, I am usually left with one question: How the hell did it get this bad? Did people not notice when things began to go downhill? When did adults stop doing their job?
I had a wonderful dinner with JJ and CC; but my stomach did not release from the knotted position until I was comfortably settled on a bench on the Santa Monica pier, listening to the waves and folding origami cranes out of tiny pieces of black and white paper. I sat there, focusing on the ocean, thinking about how little we are, how silly all of this is. It was rather existential, really. We're all gonna die. Why do we run around, talking about nothing? What are we doing? Are we doing what we are supposed to be doing with this life? What is it about the human brain that makes us political animals?
I thought a lot about how best to do my job, and what I am up against. Self-importance, while it is a flaw, is vital. If we did not feel important, whether it be in our job or in our relationships, we would all shrivel up into hermit crabs. We have to have a sense, whether it is false or not, that what we are doing, what we have become, is important. We have to believe we are important to someone, the best situation being a 'special' someone who puts us so high on the list we can stop worrying about it.
Last week, I offered to pick #6 up from the west side and bring him out here to the BBQ at the house of Chewie and PBB. He was uncomfortable about it, and repeatedly said he did not want to make me do all that driving. 'It's worth it to me,' I said. Seeing him was important. So important that I did not mind sacrificing a fraction of gas tank to the cause. But I am jumping the gun with #6. It has only been about a month, so he cannot get a priority rating just yet. It's hard though, to keep him from rising to the top.
Yesterday I had such a miserable day at work that I had to take a mini sabbatical to the beach. It wasn't so much that the work was miserable, it was just the fact that I had to listen to people attack that lovely organization I work for for hours on end. Yes, the big monster bureaucracy sucks. I don't mind people pointing out what is wrong, but I do mind it when they don't have a solution.
At one meeting, I happened to get myself into the position of "dart board." Pretty much everyone at the table started talking at me about what they hate about their school, the reforms, etc. Again, part of my job is to listen, so I didn't mind this so much. But when I asked the people what they would do to change it, they just stared. OK, so, I think we have established that we know shit sucks, but it is hard to clean it up. No one has the answers. We have a lot of things we think might work.
It made me sick to my stomach though, that I was so helpless. There was absolutely nothing I could do at that moment for the teachers I was talking to. All I could do was sit there and respond with I-statements. I understand. I see your point. I know how you feel. I agree. It was the same with the parents at the other meeting. I understand. I know it is a huge problem. I am going to work on that.
At the end of the day, I am usually left with one question: How the hell did it get this bad? Did people not notice when things began to go downhill? When did adults stop doing their job?
I had a wonderful dinner with JJ and CC; but my stomach did not release from the knotted position until I was comfortably settled on a bench on the Santa Monica pier, listening to the waves and folding origami cranes out of tiny pieces of black and white paper. I sat there, focusing on the ocean, thinking about how little we are, how silly all of this is. It was rather existential, really. We're all gonna die. Why do we run around, talking about nothing? What are we doing? Are we doing what we are supposed to be doing with this life? What is it about the human brain that makes us political animals?
I thought a lot about how best to do my job, and what I am up against. Self-importance, while it is a flaw, is vital. If we did not feel important, whether it be in our job or in our relationships, we would all shrivel up into hermit crabs. We have to have a sense, whether it is false or not, that what we are doing, what we have become, is important. We have to believe we are important to someone, the best situation being a 'special' someone who puts us so high on the list we can stop worrying about it.
Last week, I offered to pick #6 up from the west side and bring him out here to the BBQ at the house of Chewie and PBB. He was uncomfortable about it, and repeatedly said he did not want to make me do all that driving. 'It's worth it to me,' I said. Seeing him was important. So important that I did not mind sacrificing a fraction of gas tank to the cause. But I am jumping the gun with #6. It has only been about a month, so he cannot get a priority rating just yet. It's hard though, to keep him from rising to the top.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Emergency plan (a blog in two parts)
(part one, written on Tuesday)
Why am I writing right now? It is 11:30, and I need to wake up ass crack early tomorrow (5:30) to take the cats to the vet for the ol’ snip-snip chop-chop. Oy, those kitties. They are so cute, I love them, but they drive me crazy! I think they (and I) are calming down, slowly but surely. I do enjoy having them around though, ringworm and all. I am learning a lot about how clean I am, that is for damn sure. I have never cleaned so much in my entire life.
I am incredibly nervous, I think, about everything. I have never had to make so many decisions by myself. I have never been responsible for so many things, all at once. I am getting absent minded and tired, and tired because I don’t sleep well at night. Or I don’t sleep well at night alone, that is. When #6 sleeps over, I sleep well. Maybe it is that human presence that puts me at ease. I don’t feel so abandoned.
(part two, written on Thursday)
Today I read a story about how Los Angeles, and the rest of California, could become the next Katrina. (http://www.latimes.com/business/la-me-quake8sep08,0,3035306.story?coll=la-home-headlines)
There is a woman who went to a meeting in May of 2001 to formulate plans for the top three threats to the country’s stability: 1. A major terrorist attack, 2. A major hurricane in New Orleans, 3. A huge earthquake along the San Andreas fault. There are hundreds of thousands of buildings in California, apartments, schools, city buildings, that would crumble in the event of a large quake.
But how do we devote money, time and resources to preparing for something terrible that MIGHT happen, when we have so many terrible things that ARE happening? Yes, we should be prepared, or at least have a plan in case the worst happens. But kids today are dropping out of school like flies, and entire families are squishing into one bedroom apartments with four other families just to save money. How do we divide ourselves?
And, bringing down to a little more personal level (you know I gotta bring it down, yea, yea, yea), how do you prepare for emotional disaster? We go through our own emotional Katrinas every time we get our hearts broken. Time shifts, established self-esteem structures are washed away (sometimes via alcohol, sometimes via ice cream), ability or willingness to trust is smashed. And then it takes time (frequent trips to the gym) and resources (2 pairs of shoes, one super t-shirt, one skirt, usually), to build all that back up. In that process, and when we start the whole cycle again, we usually forget the potential damage that could occur if we don’t play our cards right.
An emergency plan, that is what I need. Be prepared, isn’t that what we learned in girl scouts? Somehow I did not pick up that they were talking about boys (/girls) when they delivered that message.
Why am I writing right now? It is 11:30, and I need to wake up ass crack early tomorrow (5:30) to take the cats to the vet for the ol’ snip-snip chop-chop. Oy, those kitties. They are so cute, I love them, but they drive me crazy! I think they (and I) are calming down, slowly but surely. I do enjoy having them around though, ringworm and all. I am learning a lot about how clean I am, that is for damn sure. I have never cleaned so much in my entire life.
I am incredibly nervous, I think, about everything. I have never had to make so many decisions by myself. I have never been responsible for so many things, all at once. I am getting absent minded and tired, and tired because I don’t sleep well at night. Or I don’t sleep well at night alone, that is. When #6 sleeps over, I sleep well. Maybe it is that human presence that puts me at ease. I don’t feel so abandoned.
(part two, written on Thursday)
Today I read a story about how Los Angeles, and the rest of California, could become the next Katrina. (http://www.latimes.com/business/la-me-quake8sep08,0,3035306.story?coll=la-home-headlines)
There is a woman who went to a meeting in May of 2001 to formulate plans for the top three threats to the country’s stability: 1. A major terrorist attack, 2. A major hurricane in New Orleans, 3. A huge earthquake along the San Andreas fault. There are hundreds of thousands of buildings in California, apartments, schools, city buildings, that would crumble in the event of a large quake.
But how do we devote money, time and resources to preparing for something terrible that MIGHT happen, when we have so many terrible things that ARE happening? Yes, we should be prepared, or at least have a plan in case the worst happens. But kids today are dropping out of school like flies, and entire families are squishing into one bedroom apartments with four other families just to save money. How do we divide ourselves?
And, bringing down to a little more personal level (you know I gotta bring it down, yea, yea, yea), how do you prepare for emotional disaster? We go through our own emotional Katrinas every time we get our hearts broken. Time shifts, established self-esteem structures are washed away (sometimes via alcohol, sometimes via ice cream), ability or willingness to trust is smashed. And then it takes time (frequent trips to the gym) and resources (2 pairs of shoes, one super t-shirt, one skirt, usually), to build all that back up. In that process, and when we start the whole cycle again, we usually forget the potential damage that could occur if we don’t play our cards right.
An emergency plan, that is what I need. Be prepared, isn’t that what we learned in girl scouts? Somehow I did not pick up that they were talking about boys (/girls) when they delivered that message.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Strap on those tennies
It is amazing how I can be so optimistic about the world, a very difficult thing to change, and so pessimistic about relationships, something that is easily altered by augmenting my behavior.
But it just. Keeps. Happening.
I feel like a fucking idiot for not being more aware.
Is it luck? Do I set myself up for failure? Why do I keep getting hurt? Why am I always the fucking victim? (I am sure I am not always the victim, but I would bet it averages out to about 97 percent of the time.)
I mean, are they all lined up to sucker punch me in the gut?
And when I do receive the punch, I want to run immediately to the puncher and take back all of the mixes I gave them, take back all of the nice things I said about them, take back those moments when my heart felt like it was about to burst because I was so happy with them. Clearly, all of that was based on a lie.
I keep thinking, how is #6 going to hurt me? Is he going to find someone else, prettier, smarter, someone who has a better knowledge of 40s/50s movies, and run off with her? Why is he with me?
I know I cannot adopt that mentality, that the insecurity alone will be enough to drive him away.
But I really want to crawl into a hole. I don’t want to feel this thing again. I am not sure it is worth it. I would rather the guys just tell me up front that they are going to hurt me, badly. Normally, I like surprises, but I would really appreciate a little warning in this arena.
It looks like it is time for a run.
But it just. Keeps. Happening.
I feel like a fucking idiot for not being more aware.
Is it luck? Do I set myself up for failure? Why do I keep getting hurt? Why am I always the fucking victim? (I am sure I am not always the victim, but I would bet it averages out to about 97 percent of the time.)
I mean, are they all lined up to sucker punch me in the gut?
And when I do receive the punch, I want to run immediately to the puncher and take back all of the mixes I gave them, take back all of the nice things I said about them, take back those moments when my heart felt like it was about to burst because I was so happy with them. Clearly, all of that was based on a lie.
I keep thinking, how is #6 going to hurt me? Is he going to find someone else, prettier, smarter, someone who has a better knowledge of 40s/50s movies, and run off with her? Why is he with me?
I know I cannot adopt that mentality, that the insecurity alone will be enough to drive him away.
But I really want to crawl into a hole. I don’t want to feel this thing again. I am not sure it is worth it. I would rather the guys just tell me up front that they are going to hurt me, badly. Normally, I like surprises, but I would really appreciate a little warning in this arena.
It looks like it is time for a run.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
powerless
Today I went to the gym (for the first time in about two weeks, mind you. Jimmy, I know, I know, but I have been going to ballet and jazz classes inbetween, so I haven’t been a TOTAL slug). At my gym, they have Tvs mounted to the ceiling, one next to the other, so you can watch MTV, CNN and ESPN all at the same time. The juxtaposition of these televisions was never particularly bothersome to me, until today. On CNN, they were showing pictures of the destruction in Mississippi and Louisiana. On MTV, they were showing fresh-faced celebrities, unloading from glistening black limousines, sauntering down the red carpet to the MTV awards. It was strange, seeing two girls, their hair mussed, eyes red, pleading for information about their missing mother next to a smiling Paris Hilton. It made me physically sick.
Maybe it was guilt – I felt guilty about worrying about the little pieces of flab on my tummy while I watched people wade through knee deep water to retrieve bottled water that was being thrown from helicopters. I felt angry thinking about the amount of money what was undoubtedly tossed into producing the MTV awards, the cost of the huge bling that was weighing down Nelly’s neck, and the amount of money it is going to take to rebuild the gulf coast.
Last night I went out with Boy #6 (oh yes, you heard right, #6), his former college roommate, and another of his friends to a bar by #6’s house. We were sitting in this bar, drinking Velvet hammers (Guinness and cider, quite good actually), and Boy#6 leans over:
“I feel so guilty about sitting here, while all that stuff is happening in New Orleans,” he said. “I cannot stop thinking about that.”
“I know,” I said. “I saw a terrible picture of a body just floating down a river. It is almost too much to comprehend.” (or something to that effect, I cannot remember exactly what I said)
We talked about what we had heard that day, and the inadequacy of the federal response to the situation. We also talked about how this whole disaster was a perfect distraction from the “war on terror,” the 850 plus people that were killed in Iraq in a stampede on a bridge, the monsoon that hit somewhere in Asia.
How do we reconcile ourselves to go on living, when so many people are struggling? The rational thing to do is figure out a way to help, so we can sleep at night. So we give money, or we donate clothes, and then we feel better because we did something to flatten that lead ball of guilt weighing down our stomachs. But what happens after that?
Do we keep tolerating a government that has no plan to help those most in need, whether it be from a natural disaster or economic warfare? Do we shrug our shoulders and give up on democracy, because the remnants of this system are fading into an ever-growing capitalist landscape? When did capitalism become our main form of government? And how do we stop participating, when it has become so engrained in our way of life?
We are not powerless to change things.
Maybe it was guilt – I felt guilty about worrying about the little pieces of flab on my tummy while I watched people wade through knee deep water to retrieve bottled water that was being thrown from helicopters. I felt angry thinking about the amount of money what was undoubtedly tossed into producing the MTV awards, the cost of the huge bling that was weighing down Nelly’s neck, and the amount of money it is going to take to rebuild the gulf coast.
Last night I went out with Boy #6 (oh yes, you heard right, #6), his former college roommate, and another of his friends to a bar by #6’s house. We were sitting in this bar, drinking Velvet hammers (Guinness and cider, quite good actually), and Boy#6 leans over:
“I feel so guilty about sitting here, while all that stuff is happening in New Orleans,” he said. “I cannot stop thinking about that.”
“I know,” I said. “I saw a terrible picture of a body just floating down a river. It is almost too much to comprehend.” (or something to that effect, I cannot remember exactly what I said)
We talked about what we had heard that day, and the inadequacy of the federal response to the situation. We also talked about how this whole disaster was a perfect distraction from the “war on terror,” the 850 plus people that were killed in Iraq in a stampede on a bridge, the monsoon that hit somewhere in Asia.
How do we reconcile ourselves to go on living, when so many people are struggling? The rational thing to do is figure out a way to help, so we can sleep at night. So we give money, or we donate clothes, and then we feel better because we did something to flatten that lead ball of guilt weighing down our stomachs. But what happens after that?
Do we keep tolerating a government that has no plan to help those most in need, whether it be from a natural disaster or economic warfare? Do we shrug our shoulders and give up on democracy, because the remnants of this system are fading into an ever-growing capitalist landscape? When did capitalism become our main form of government? And how do we stop participating, when it has become so engrained in our way of life?
We are not powerless to change things.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Excuses, excuses
I have an excuse, I tell you, for not blogging. It is called moving. It involved more cardboard than any one person should come in contact with during their lifetime. I do not think I am going to do it again for at least two years. First of all, because my apartment IS AWESOME and secondly, because I just want to sleep.
So let me review the major arenas of action in my life:
Apartment: YAY! It is sooooooo fantastic. I cannot explain how much I love my new place. I have bought several Ikea pieces and have successfully assembled each one. The couch will be the real test, but that will not take place for at least two more weeks. In the meantime, I have a kitchen table and chairs, so at least I can eat on something other than a counter. I haven't been sleeping too well in the new place yet though, but I think I have just been too anxious about getting everything squared away to really rest.
Job: Job is excellent. I cannot reveal too much in this forum, politics you know.
Kittens: I am still waiting to get the final OK from my landlord. He gave me a half-OK, but I have not given him the deposit yet. He was supposed to be back on Wednesday. It is now Thursday night. Where the hell is he? I have kittens to bring home! Here is a list of names I have brainstomed with my brother and sister, let me know what you think:
1. Paka (cat in swahili) and Neko (cat in japanese)
2. Nina and Miles (as in the singers)
3. Jane and Rochester (as in Jane Eyre)
4. Daisy and Gatsby (as in The Great Gatsby)
Boys: I am not thinking about #4, I am not thinking about #4, I am not thinking about #4. That is my mantra and I am sticking to it. He is gone gone gone gone. So there. Bye #4, have fun on the stupid east coast doing stupid important things. I hope he meets a stupid wonderful girl and has lots of stupid wonderful kids. Yes. Bitter you say? Psha, wuteva. This category will change, sooner rather than later.
So let me review the major arenas of action in my life:
Apartment: YAY! It is sooooooo fantastic. I cannot explain how much I love my new place. I have bought several Ikea pieces and have successfully assembled each one. The couch will be the real test, but that will not take place for at least two more weeks. In the meantime, I have a kitchen table and chairs, so at least I can eat on something other than a counter. I haven't been sleeping too well in the new place yet though, but I think I have just been too anxious about getting everything squared away to really rest.
Job: Job is excellent. I cannot reveal too much in this forum, politics you know.
Kittens: I am still waiting to get the final OK from my landlord. He gave me a half-OK, but I have not given him the deposit yet. He was supposed to be back on Wednesday. It is now Thursday night. Where the hell is he? I have kittens to bring home! Here is a list of names I have brainstomed with my brother and sister, let me know what you think:
1. Paka (cat in swahili) and Neko (cat in japanese)
2. Nina and Miles (as in the singers)
3. Jane and Rochester (as in Jane Eyre)
4. Daisy and Gatsby (as in The Great Gatsby)
Boys: I am not thinking about #4, I am not thinking about #4, I am not thinking about #4. That is my mantra and I am sticking to it. He is gone gone gone gone. So there. Bye #4, have fun on the stupid east coast doing stupid important things. I hope he meets a stupid wonderful girl and has lots of stupid wonderful kids. Yes. Bitter you say? Psha, wuteva. This category will change, sooner rather than later.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
it all comes down to chocolate
Regret is a funny thing. Nobody wants to regret. Good people don't regret, because everything they do is good.
I do not regret #4. I regret letting myself fall as hard as I did. Sure, I learned a lesson -- never get involved with someone who has to move across the country. I also learned that sex, in a relationship, can be secondary. #4 assured me that he was with me because he liked being with me, and everything else was just a bonus. #4 liked me for me, because of who I was, despite my craziness. For that, I owe him a lot. Maybe it was total bullshit, but I believed him.
Somehow, I have become the girl guys date before they get into a serious relationship. I mean, it hasn't just happened once. Off the top of my head, it has happened at least 4 times in the past three years. I regret being that girl. I cannot figure out why I repel solid relationships. It is really problematic.
I am afraid to get the phone call, in three months, from #4, proclaiming his love for some beautiful, intensely passionate east coast femme. Today, I could not stop thinking about that moment. That moment when I realize that I was, again, the girl before the girl.
#4 and I had an amazing day yesterday. Golf was so much fun, I had no idea. The last time I played golf was in high school. I think I might take a liking to the sport. It is kind of like dancing, it is very closely related to form. After golfing we worked up an appetite and went to Fred 62 for breakfast. After Fred's, we weren't ready to end the day yet, so we hung out at my house for a few...hours. Then we decided we needed to get gelato and go play guitar in the park. A few minutes after we arrived in the park, a small camera crew unloaded, followed by two women and their black poodles. Apparently, they were shooting a doggie yoga video. Yes, you read it right, doggy yoga. The women were stretching their doggies for the camera in all sorts of weird positions. They had one position that was called "flying dog," where the women balanced their dogs on their feet. It just made the whole experience more surreal.
After #4 dropped me off at my house, I had to sit down for a minute and absorb the day. I wanted to feel nothing. Desparately I tried to calm my brain down, water down the experience, the feeling of my pounding heart. I knew what would follow -- longing, depression, frustration that this person would be so soon absent from my life. It was pointless, the attempt to ward off those feelings. They came anyway.
Bittersweet chocolate has always intrigued me. Why do you want something that is bitter? I think perhaps, the bitterness is there to make the sweet sweeter. Without the bitter, we would never really know regular sweet from authentic, deep down in your soul sweet.
Bittersweet. A perfect paradox.
I do not regret #4. I regret letting myself fall as hard as I did. Sure, I learned a lesson -- never get involved with someone who has to move across the country. I also learned that sex, in a relationship, can be secondary. #4 assured me that he was with me because he liked being with me, and everything else was just a bonus. #4 liked me for me, because of who I was, despite my craziness. For that, I owe him a lot. Maybe it was total bullshit, but I believed him.
Somehow, I have become the girl guys date before they get into a serious relationship. I mean, it hasn't just happened once. Off the top of my head, it has happened at least 4 times in the past three years. I regret being that girl. I cannot figure out why I repel solid relationships. It is really problematic.
I am afraid to get the phone call, in three months, from #4, proclaiming his love for some beautiful, intensely passionate east coast femme. Today, I could not stop thinking about that moment. That moment when I realize that I was, again, the girl before the girl.
#4 and I had an amazing day yesterday. Golf was so much fun, I had no idea. The last time I played golf was in high school. I think I might take a liking to the sport. It is kind of like dancing, it is very closely related to form. After golfing we worked up an appetite and went to Fred 62 for breakfast. After Fred's, we weren't ready to end the day yet, so we hung out at my house for a few...hours. Then we decided we needed to get gelato and go play guitar in the park. A few minutes after we arrived in the park, a small camera crew unloaded, followed by two women and their black poodles. Apparently, they were shooting a doggie yoga video. Yes, you read it right, doggy yoga. The women were stretching their doggies for the camera in all sorts of weird positions. They had one position that was called "flying dog," where the women balanced their dogs on their feet. It just made the whole experience more surreal.
After #4 dropped me off at my house, I had to sit down for a minute and absorb the day. I wanted to feel nothing. Desparately I tried to calm my brain down, water down the experience, the feeling of my pounding heart. I knew what would follow -- longing, depression, frustration that this person would be so soon absent from my life. It was pointless, the attempt to ward off those feelings. They came anyway.
Bittersweet chocolate has always intrigued me. Why do you want something that is bitter? I think perhaps, the bitterness is there to make the sweet sweeter. Without the bitter, we would never really know regular sweet from authentic, deep down in your soul sweet.
Bittersweet. A perfect paradox.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Je m'appelle hermit crab
So, it's starting to happen. I am starting to hermit up. It needs to stop.
This week, I have been so averted to speaking to people for some reason. I have been alone in the apartment, which I think is one reason. Another reason I think I have not spoken to people is because I am afraid I have absolutely nothing interesting to say. But why, pray tell, do I have to have something interesting to say? If one of the lovely people that grace my cell phone book were to call me up for no good reason, I would jump out of my shoes. Maybe even my socks. True, I am depressed about #4 leaving, and that made me want to crawl into the small space in the corner between my bed and the wall. Plus the new Harry Potter came out, so of course I had to read that within four days of buying the book. But is that any reason to neglect my pals? Oh no, mr.smith, I think not.
I am so off kilter though, it's ridiculous. My schedule at work changes a lot. I never know when I am going to get home, so I never know when I can work out. I have been neglecting eating, because I never feel hungry, except when I am nervous at work. Then I usually eat fruit or a granola bar. And I think I feel guilty for eating, because I can't work it off, which I know is a bad bad bad bad bad bad thing.
The good news is I am in love. With my job that is, absolutely infatuated. I have only been on the job for three weeks, and already my piece that I wrote for my boss is being published in three different publications. No byline of course, but the satisfaction is beyond words. And I get to fight, every day, for all of the things I care about. I am learning more about politics in this city than I ever imagined.
I also found an awesome 1 bedroom apartment in Silverlake, right across from the Red Lion Tavern. I haven't signed any paperwork yet, but it looks good. And I can have a kitty. A very small one. Yay.
Tomorrow (actually, today) I play golf with #4. This should be ____________________(insert adjective). Two more weeks, and he is gone for good. askdjhf;aoiewrhtosaehrgok. That is the best I can come up with for describing that feeling.
A mishmash of thoughts, yes. More coherent blogging to come.
This week, I have been so averted to speaking to people for some reason. I have been alone in the apartment, which I think is one reason. Another reason I think I have not spoken to people is because I am afraid I have absolutely nothing interesting to say. But why, pray tell, do I have to have something interesting to say? If one of the lovely people that grace my cell phone book were to call me up for no good reason, I would jump out of my shoes. Maybe even my socks. True, I am depressed about #4 leaving, and that made me want to crawl into the small space in the corner between my bed and the wall. Plus the new Harry Potter came out, so of course I had to read that within four days of buying the book. But is that any reason to neglect my pals? Oh no, mr.smith, I think not.
I am so off kilter though, it's ridiculous. My schedule at work changes a lot. I never know when I am going to get home, so I never know when I can work out. I have been neglecting eating, because I never feel hungry, except when I am nervous at work. Then I usually eat fruit or a granola bar. And I think I feel guilty for eating, because I can't work it off, which I know is a bad bad bad bad bad bad thing.
The good news is I am in love. With my job that is, absolutely infatuated. I have only been on the job for three weeks, and already my piece that I wrote for my boss is being published in three different publications. No byline of course, but the satisfaction is beyond words. And I get to fight, every day, for all of the things I care about. I am learning more about politics in this city than I ever imagined.
I also found an awesome 1 bedroom apartment in Silverlake, right across from the Red Lion Tavern. I haven't signed any paperwork yet, but it looks good. And I can have a kitty. A very small one. Yay.
Tomorrow (actually, today) I play golf with #4. This should be ____________________(insert adjective). Two more weeks, and he is gone for good. askdjhf;aoiewrhtosaehrgok. That is the best I can come up with for describing that feeling.
A mishmash of thoughts, yes. More coherent blogging to come.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Bye bye pinky toe
With all the f-ing free time I had this weekend, I could not even bring myself to update my blog. What a shmo I am! And now I have to go to sleep, so I can't even write down any good details. Here is a brief update:
1. Still haven't found an apartment. Getting dangerously close though, so hopefully I wont have to crash on anyone's couch. Actually, my landlord called and said we could just pay by the day if we did not find a place, so that is good.
2. #4 and I went out on Friday. It. Was. Tremendous. Absolutely. And that is all I will say about that. I will also say that Jimmy and Jalexious were correct about the outcome.
3. Started reading the new Harry Potter. Mmm, YA Fiction.
4. I found this poem I wrote before I went back to visit my college friends two years ago. I had been going to this open mic poetry night in the Valley pretty consistently, so I think it inspired me. It's funny how cyclical emotions can be:
There’s too much anxiety right now
Too with two o’s
Hand cramps up from the upsidedown typing method I came up with
To curb my flittering
I figure if the blood rushes backwards
It will have to slow me down
Drain away into some superfluous part of my body
Like the right
Knuckle of my fourth toe.
I had four toes once
Until I ate my pinky toe
And then I realized I had had five all along.
It didn’t really taste pink at all.
It kind of tasted like dirt,
And raw matzo ball mix.
It was nice to chew on something for a while,
And not get a raised eyebrow.
Now I chew on things,
Especially when I get
Like this.
Shakey
And tired from the persistent beating of
Me against me.
Isn’t it always like that though,
You make yourself nervous.
You make yourself sad.
You make yourself.
You make yourself ruin a perfectly good stream of poetry
By adding words.
Looking for the end.
There is no end, none that you know
Self-depreciation wins every time,
Stops you before you can do anything great
Or at least, remotely interesting to those brave souls
In the Valley that bear their souls to you
Pleading with you to bear yours.
They don’t realize
There isn’t anything for me to bear.
1. Still haven't found an apartment. Getting dangerously close though, so hopefully I wont have to crash on anyone's couch. Actually, my landlord called and said we could just pay by the day if we did not find a place, so that is good.
2. #4 and I went out on Friday. It. Was. Tremendous. Absolutely. And that is all I will say about that. I will also say that Jimmy and Jalexious were correct about the outcome.
3. Started reading the new Harry Potter. Mmm, YA Fiction.
4. I found this poem I wrote before I went back to visit my college friends two years ago. I had been going to this open mic poetry night in the Valley pretty consistently, so I think it inspired me. It's funny how cyclical emotions can be:
There’s too much anxiety right now
Too with two o’s
Hand cramps up from the upsidedown typing method I came up with
To curb my flittering
I figure if the blood rushes backwards
It will have to slow me down
Drain away into some superfluous part of my body
Like the right
Knuckle of my fourth toe.
I had four toes once
Until I ate my pinky toe
And then I realized I had had five all along.
It didn’t really taste pink at all.
It kind of tasted like dirt,
And raw matzo ball mix.
It was nice to chew on something for a while,
And not get a raised eyebrow.
Now I chew on things,
Especially when I get
Like this.
Shakey
And tired from the persistent beating of
Me against me.
Isn’t it always like that though,
You make yourself nervous.
You make yourself sad.
You make yourself.
You make yourself ruin a perfectly good stream of poetry
By adding words.
Looking for the end.
There is no end, none that you know
Self-depreciation wins every time,
Stops you before you can do anything great
Or at least, remotely interesting to those brave souls
In the Valley that bear their souls to you
Pleading with you to bear yours.
They don’t realize
There isn’t anything for me to bear.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
ISO soul, a good one preferably
Ok, now I am just stressed out.
1. I cannot find a suitable apartment. All I want (which I guess is a lot to ask) is an apartment that is close to stuff (los feliz village or sunset junction), will take cats, and is under 1000. I am so tired of looking at crap. GROWR!
2. People hate me, because I do stupid things, and now I am being ostracized. (Am I blowing this out of proportion? Yes, but this is how it is playing out in my head). This is EXACTLY what happened to me at the end of my college experience. I did a stupid, stupid thing and I was labeled a social outcast for about two months. All of this is COMPLETELY MY FAULT. Why would people want to be around me? I think this is why I developed social anxiety disorder (undiagnosed, of course). I am always afraid people are going to find me out, then see the real me, and leave me. The real me, apparently, sucks ass. I guess it is time for a change. I guess it is time for me to be a bit more rational, to take better care of the people around me, to be better about thinking about other people before I act. I am not trying to be the stir-er of conflict. I don't want to be the person people are careful not to upset. I want people to feel comfortable around me, to feel like they can come to me for anything. I think I am going to print up those new years resolutions in big type and hang them in my room.
3. Based on #2 as stated above, I am not sure i know how to go about fixing things. I need help. Help help help. I am afraid I am going to become a hermit when I move into my nonexistent studio apartment in los feliz/silverlake/echo park, because no one will want to talk to me. I am at a loss here, and it is driving me crazy.
1. I cannot find a suitable apartment. All I want (which I guess is a lot to ask) is an apartment that is close to stuff (los feliz village or sunset junction), will take cats, and is under 1000. I am so tired of looking at crap. GROWR!
2. People hate me, because I do stupid things, and now I am being ostracized. (Am I blowing this out of proportion? Yes, but this is how it is playing out in my head). This is EXACTLY what happened to me at the end of my college experience. I did a stupid, stupid thing and I was labeled a social outcast for about two months. All of this is COMPLETELY MY FAULT. Why would people want to be around me? I think this is why I developed social anxiety disorder (undiagnosed, of course). I am always afraid people are going to find me out, then see the real me, and leave me. The real me, apparently, sucks ass. I guess it is time for a change. I guess it is time for me to be a bit more rational, to take better care of the people around me, to be better about thinking about other people before I act. I am not trying to be the stir-er of conflict. I don't want to be the person people are careful not to upset. I want people to feel comfortable around me, to feel like they can come to me for anything. I think I am going to print up those new years resolutions in big type and hang them in my room.
3. Based on #2 as stated above, I am not sure i know how to go about fixing things. I need help. Help help help. I am afraid I am going to become a hermit when I move into my nonexistent studio apartment in los feliz/silverlake/echo park, because no one will want to talk to me. I am at a loss here, and it is driving me crazy.
You can turn a grape into a raisin, but you can't vice versa
Sorry about the delay between posts. It is has been a interesting week.
On Friday, I went to a luncheon for the arts education program for the music center. Last week they were having a workshop for teachers interesting in incorporating more art into their classrooms, and they had a lot of interactive activities that required the teachers to create their own art. In one class, they had teachers do interpretive movement to this poem:
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Naturally, when the teachers got to the part about the raisin in the sun, they crumpled to the ground. The second time they were asked to do the exercise, they were prohibited from crumpling to the ground to show a raisin drying up in the sun. The result was a tableau, the teacher of the workshop said, of the human emotions of pain and loss. Another workshop leader expanded on the idea of the raisin as what we become after years of negative messages. She was specifically relating it to our individual artistic talents. We all start out as these big, juicy grapes, she said, full of possibilities. We think we can sing, paint, draw and dance, because no one tells us we cannot. Then, she continued, as we go through our lives, we receive direct and indirect messages that we are not good enough. Someone turns off the radio as you are singing to a song. You get a look as you move to a certain beat. And after all of these experiences, our desire to express ourselves through art shrivels up, because we are afraid to fail. She said that all teachers, not just art teachers, need to work on this.
I think it is a good lesson for everyone. After all, as madame collinsina said, raisins are still sweet. Personally, I like them in my cream of wheat every Sunday.
On Friday, I went to a luncheon for the arts education program for the music center. Last week they were having a workshop for teachers interesting in incorporating more art into their classrooms, and they had a lot of interactive activities that required the teachers to create their own art. In one class, they had teachers do interpretive movement to this poem:
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Naturally, when the teachers got to the part about the raisin in the sun, they crumpled to the ground. The second time they were asked to do the exercise, they were prohibited from crumpling to the ground to show a raisin drying up in the sun. The result was a tableau, the teacher of the workshop said, of the human emotions of pain and loss. Another workshop leader expanded on the idea of the raisin as what we become after years of negative messages. She was specifically relating it to our individual artistic talents. We all start out as these big, juicy grapes, she said, full of possibilities. We think we can sing, paint, draw and dance, because no one tells us we cannot. Then, she continued, as we go through our lives, we receive direct and indirect messages that we are not good enough. Someone turns off the radio as you are singing to a song. You get a look as you move to a certain beat. And after all of these experiences, our desire to express ourselves through art shrivels up, because we are afraid to fail. She said that all teachers, not just art teachers, need to work on this.
I think it is a good lesson for everyone. After all, as madame collinsina said, raisins are still sweet. Personally, I like them in my cream of wheat every Sunday.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
bisexuality and generally scary politics
As I was browsing the news today, I came across several interesting headlines:
1. Straight, Gay or Lying? Bisexuality Revisited (NY Times)
This was a story about how they did a study about bisexuality in men, and basically found that men were either straight or gay, regardless of their reported sexual identity. To that I say, malarky. If women are bisexual, why can't men be? In this article, they cited another study in which women who claimed to be bisexual or gay actually had partners of both sexes. Is it more acceptable for a woman to be a lesbian than it is for a man to be gay? Perhaps it is, because of the straight male fascination with lesbians. What rubbed me the wrong way (or the right way, hehehehe) about this story was the assertion by some psychologists that bisexuality does not exist. Clearly, they have not studied me. I always question my sexual identity after I break up with a man, and Shmallipoo and I always say it is time for me to start dating women. I see two problems with this: 1. I have no idea how to make this happen, 2. ....well, I guess I just have one problem. I almost made out with a really hot asian chick at Bang on Saturday, but that is definitely not how I want to meet my first real girlfriend.
2. Thai teachers to be allowed guns (BBC)
If you need a reminder about how AWESOME your school is, I suggest you read this story. I see potential for significant gains here, I really do.
3. G.O.P. Asks Conservative Allies to Cool Rhetoric Over the Court
Leaders of the democratic party, pay attention to this quote from the article: "The extremism of language, if there is to be any, should be demonstrably on the other side. The hysteria and the foaming at the mouth ought to come from the left." THIS IS WHY WE KEEP LOSING ELECTIONS. The republicans in power are too f-ing smart - they have us pegged - they know we are reactionary and cannot keep our mouths shut. We cannot let this happen anymore. It is time to start developing some political foresight, for goodness sakes.
Hey. Maybe I should work on that too.
(P.S. I am doing a REALLY good job not contacting 4. If you could be so kind as to make sure that I keep this up for 30 more days, that would be greatly appreciated.)
1. Straight, Gay or Lying? Bisexuality Revisited (NY Times)
This was a story about how they did a study about bisexuality in men, and basically found that men were either straight or gay, regardless of their reported sexual identity. To that I say, malarky. If women are bisexual, why can't men be? In this article, they cited another study in which women who claimed to be bisexual or gay actually had partners of both sexes. Is it more acceptable for a woman to be a lesbian than it is for a man to be gay? Perhaps it is, because of the straight male fascination with lesbians. What rubbed me the wrong way (or the right way, hehehehe) about this story was the assertion by some psychologists that bisexuality does not exist. Clearly, they have not studied me. I always question my sexual identity after I break up with a man, and Shmallipoo and I always say it is time for me to start dating women. I see two problems with this: 1. I have no idea how to make this happen, 2. ....well, I guess I just have one problem. I almost made out with a really hot asian chick at Bang on Saturday, but that is definitely not how I want to meet my first real girlfriend.
2. Thai teachers to be allowed guns (BBC)
If you need a reminder about how AWESOME your school is, I suggest you read this story. I see potential for significant gains here, I really do.
3. G.O.P. Asks Conservative Allies to Cool Rhetoric Over the Court
Leaders of the democratic party, pay attention to this quote from the article: "The extremism of language, if there is to be any, should be demonstrably on the other side. The hysteria and the foaming at the mouth ought to come from the left." THIS IS WHY WE KEEP LOSING ELECTIONS. The republicans in power are too f-ing smart - they have us pegged - they know we are reactionary and cannot keep our mouths shut. We cannot let this happen anymore. It is time to start developing some political foresight, for goodness sakes.
Hey. Maybe I should work on that too.
(P.S. I am doing a REALLY good job not contacting 4. If you could be so kind as to make sure that I keep this up for 30 more days, that would be greatly appreciated.)
Sunday, July 03, 2005
tragically emotional and wonderful desparation
So I am sitting in the middle of buzz coffee, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, trying to create words that will fit in someone else's mouth. This whole speechwriting thing is tough, but gratifying at the same time. It's like wearing sexy underwear underneath really plain clothes -- only you know what's underneath that diplomatic exterior. Thankfully it is three thousand times better than lesson planning.
It's been two days since I parted ways with 4, and I think the people around me are expecting the breakdown any day now. I just don't feel it coming. A part of me feels sad and distracted, and maybe even a little lonely, because it was nice to have someone in that position. The other part of me however, feels an incredible sense of liberation. I mean, for the love of miniature ponies, does anyone realize how little alone time you get when you are in a relationship? I had the whole day yesterday to myself. I read for two hours, took a nap, worked out, cooked a kickass tofu stirfry, and joined a few friends at Bang for a crazy night of dancing. Would it have been nice to lay on the beach with 4, or to have brought him on the secret adventure I had planned? Yep, prolly. Was I OK without him, without anyone? Yep, absolutely. Doing things alone in this society is frowned upon. You are a loser if you go to dinner by yourself. You are ridiculous if you go to a movie alone. But I LOVE going to the movies alone. I LOVE getting lost in this city, without having to worry about disappointing the person in the passenger seat. I LOVE trying new restaurants from my LA guidebook. I LOVE being able to go to the club with my friendiolies when I want to, and dancing to my heart's content. Was 4 prohibiting me from doing these things? No, but I did have to explain myself a lot more. And I am not sure why I felt the obligation to do that. We should have kept things cold, emotionless. Why did I spend energy getting emotionally involved?
I know why -- because I am a writer. Or at least, I think I am a writer. I'm not even sure I am that, mostly because I do not have the well-known 'writer's insomnia,' and the rest because I think everyone's writing is better than mine. (Especially Stacedawg and JayJayNaNaNa, my fellow journalists -- y'all could kick my ass in a write-off any day.)
After watching Little Women and closely analyzing the "Jo" character in the movie, I realize that writers NEED to live tragic/emotional/wonderful/desparate lives. Actually, a writer might live a boring life, but do things to make it seem tragic/emotional/wonderful/desparate. Her character was constantly emotionally charged. She felt guilt enough to squeeze out tears, rage enough to pummel her sister, and failure enough to crumple her to the floor.
So, it got me to thinking. Why DID I put all that emotion into 4? What was it about him that set off that thing? Why are my feelings of guilt so intense that I cannot even throw a piece of plastic on the ground? Why is it that I get so angry when I get angry? Is this the plight of the writer? Are they doomed to feel everything tenfold, because they have to figure out a way to put all those intangibles into words?
It's been two days since I parted ways with 4, and I think the people around me are expecting the breakdown any day now. I just don't feel it coming. A part of me feels sad and distracted, and maybe even a little lonely, because it was nice to have someone in that position. The other part of me however, feels an incredible sense of liberation. I mean, for the love of miniature ponies, does anyone realize how little alone time you get when you are in a relationship? I had the whole day yesterday to myself. I read for two hours, took a nap, worked out, cooked a kickass tofu stirfry, and joined a few friends at Bang for a crazy night of dancing. Would it have been nice to lay on the beach with 4, or to have brought him on the secret adventure I had planned? Yep, prolly. Was I OK without him, without anyone? Yep, absolutely. Doing things alone in this society is frowned upon. You are a loser if you go to dinner by yourself. You are ridiculous if you go to a movie alone. But I LOVE going to the movies alone. I LOVE getting lost in this city, without having to worry about disappointing the person in the passenger seat. I LOVE trying new restaurants from my LA guidebook. I LOVE being able to go to the club with my friendiolies when I want to, and dancing to my heart's content. Was 4 prohibiting me from doing these things? No, but I did have to explain myself a lot more. And I am not sure why I felt the obligation to do that. We should have kept things cold, emotionless. Why did I spend energy getting emotionally involved?
I know why -- because I am a writer. Or at least, I think I am a writer. I'm not even sure I am that, mostly because I do not have the well-known 'writer's insomnia,' and the rest because I think everyone's writing is better than mine. (Especially Stacedawg and JayJayNaNaNa, my fellow journalists -- y'all could kick my ass in a write-off any day.)
After watching Little Women and closely analyzing the "Jo" character in the movie, I realize that writers NEED to live tragic/emotional/wonderful/desparate lives. Actually, a writer might live a boring life, but do things to make it seem tragic/emotional/wonderful/desparate. Her character was constantly emotionally charged. She felt guilt enough to squeeze out tears, rage enough to pummel her sister, and failure enough to crumple her to the floor.
So, it got me to thinking. Why DID I put all that emotion into 4? What was it about him that set off that thing? Why are my feelings of guilt so intense that I cannot even throw a piece of plastic on the ground? Why is it that I get so angry when I get angry? Is this the plight of the writer? Are they doomed to feel everything tenfold, because they have to figure out a way to put all those intangibles into words?
Saturday, July 02, 2005
No, seriously, what is wrong with me?
How could I have been so blindsighted to not see the damage that I was doing with these words? I guess passion does silly things to your brain. So let it be said, publicly, that I am deeply sorry for hurting any number of folk, including all unnamed and numbered, 4, 3, 2 or even 1. Yes, even 1 gets an apology. Single, double, triple venti mocha espresso sorry to anyone who I offended during one of my rants. I hope we can still be friends. Otherwise, I will be forced to feed myself to the rabid sea lions that I am going to visit tomorrow at the zoo. Please let me know soon so I can alert zoo personnel.
That said, I must write about 4 one last time, because we are no longer. Like the mean words littered throughout my blog, my mean words ended it prematurely. I said one thing, expecting one reaction, and got a completely different reaction from him. Serves me right, I suppose. In the end, 4 is a wonderful, thoughtful, caring person; just not the wonderful, thoughtful, caring person I am looking for. He is going to make some girl brilliantly happy. I wanted something from him that he could not give, and he wanted something from me that I could not deliver. Sigh. I have to say I did learn a lot from the relationship, even if I did end up in the reject pot again.
So, I am completely single again. One. Single. Person. I have always been one single person, even when I was with someone. JimJim always talks about how you have to make sure you can make yourself happy before you can be happy in a relationship. That is true, I think. The only problem is that much of my happiness is derived from being around other people, or making other people happy. Yes, I can be happy painting or playing the guitar or going to the zoo. Euphoria for me is usually found on the dance floor, in some way or another, and most recently has appeared when I am zooming down the highway on the back of a bike. All those things make me happy. But it is hard to top that happiness you feel when you kiss that person hello, or when you feel their arm wrapped around you first thing in the morning.
I think perhaps, my equillibrium is not equillibrized (yeah, I made that word up, whaddya want?). All of my nervous habits have returned, which only happens in extreme cases of stress. But it is the new year as Jaynafersonsmitherpants reminded me, so it is time to stop and breathe. Think. Clear my head. Stop being subversively mean. That is not who I am, or who I meant to be.
That said, I must write about 4 one last time, because we are no longer. Like the mean words littered throughout my blog, my mean words ended it prematurely. I said one thing, expecting one reaction, and got a completely different reaction from him. Serves me right, I suppose. In the end, 4 is a wonderful, thoughtful, caring person; just not the wonderful, thoughtful, caring person I am looking for. He is going to make some girl brilliantly happy. I wanted something from him that he could not give, and he wanted something from me that I could not deliver. Sigh. I have to say I did learn a lot from the relationship, even if I did end up in the reject pot again.
So, I am completely single again. One. Single. Person. I have always been one single person, even when I was with someone. JimJim always talks about how you have to make sure you can make yourself happy before you can be happy in a relationship. That is true, I think. The only problem is that much of my happiness is derived from being around other people, or making other people happy. Yes, I can be happy painting or playing the guitar or going to the zoo. Euphoria for me is usually found on the dance floor, in some way or another, and most recently has appeared when I am zooming down the highway on the back of a bike. All those things make me happy. But it is hard to top that happiness you feel when you kiss that person hello, or when you feel their arm wrapped around you first thing in the morning.
I think perhaps, my equillibrium is not equillibrized (yeah, I made that word up, whaddya want?). All of my nervous habits have returned, which only happens in extreme cases of stress. But it is the new year as Jaynafersonsmitherpants reminded me, so it is time to stop and breathe. Think. Clear my head. Stop being subversively mean. That is not who I am, or who I meant to be.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Man, what is it with me?
I guess when I leave one thing, I have to leave all things. My job, my apartment, my _____.
Why do I do that?
I think sometimes when we make changes, we begin to feel so good about making changes that we keep making them until they start to hurt. Now, I don't hurt. Hopefully, in two days it will feel like a blister. In seven, the blister will be healed and I'll move on.
One day, I'll get it right. One day, I won't have to sit in a half lean against the wall, loathing the fading light of the day. I won't hurt anyone, and I won't get hurt.
Could I be more cryptic please?
On the upside, I am going swing dancing tonight, and I just had a maaahvelous time last night at bike night. Yep, I have a shiny new blue and silver bike helmet to show for it. See? I have stuff to be happy about. Be happy, dammit.
Why do I do that?
I think sometimes when we make changes, we begin to feel so good about making changes that we keep making them until they start to hurt. Now, I don't hurt. Hopefully, in two days it will feel like a blister. In seven, the blister will be healed and I'll move on.
One day, I'll get it right. One day, I won't have to sit in a half lean against the wall, loathing the fading light of the day. I won't hurt anyone, and I won't get hurt.
Could I be more cryptic please?
On the upside, I am going swing dancing tonight, and I just had a maaahvelous time last night at bike night. Yep, I have a shiny new blue and silver bike helmet to show for it. See? I have stuff to be happy about. Be happy, dammit.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Packin' it in
It took me exactly eight hours to clean my classroom yesterday. Eight hours to clean up two years of work. Eight hours, to remove every trace of my being from a place where I cried with my students as they shared their personal narratives, a place where I begged students not to give up on themselves, a place that taught me about the world and myself. I gave away everything, which is generally painful for a pack-rat like me. My classroom library was mostly distributed amongst three new teachers, along with all my files, posters and other teachery items I accumulated. I managed to fit the things I wanted to keep down to three crates, two plastic boxes, and one laundry basket.
It is funny how your senses become heightened when you are at a turning point in your life. After I had loaded the last box into my car and turned in my pink sign-out sheet, I just began wandering around the school. If anyone asked, I had a purpose; I was looking for one of the plant managers to ask him if I could borrow a rolly trashcan to throw out the buffalo-sized bag of trash that was consuming the middle of my room. But even as I was walking around, I realized that was silly -- I didn't even have the keys at that point, and I had no real intention of entering that room again. I just wanted to see the place, as an insider, one last time. So I walked around, and smelled everything. I archived the smell of the disenfectant they use to clean the floors. The faint smell of the rosebushes that surround the small parking lot. That weird, indescribable smell of the hallway, it just smells like school. And I listened to the defeaning silence of the school, and the quiet buzz of the people who were finishing up for the day. I watched the pidgeons fight over a forgotten piece of bread, and coo in contempt after losing ground. I looked for a long time at the way the blue and white buildings cut into the clear blue sky.
And I guess when I walked out, and got into my car, I expected it all to stop, because for me, this was it. This was the end of teaching, the end of being a part of the community, the end of my first real job. I drove away, feeling like I just broke up with somebody. I was, and am still, heartbroken. Not because I want to go back to teaching, but just because it is no longer a part of my reality. I think I am afraid to fail, or afraid I am making the wrong decision. I think I stayed after, walking around, because I expected some internal neon sign to start blinking and screaming, 'you're doing the right thing! run! run now!'
I do feel like I am doing the right thing, but internally, I am only 90 percent convinced. How that other 10 percent is going to be converted is beyond me right now.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On a completely different note, Boy #4 will no longer appear in the blog. Too many people know who he is, and for the first time that I know of, someone gave him shit about it the other day. When boy #4 tried to play it off, the person said, 'guess you don't really like having your personal life broadcasted, huh?' (or something to that affect). I'm kind of pissed about that, but I guess it is inevitable with things like this. Why that person would feel the need to bring up the blog to Boy#4 is beyond me. I feel incredibly guilty for putting Boy #4 anywhere close to that situation. Even though it is June 30, I am going to start working on that forgiveness thing early. I am going to forgive that person for making fun of Boy#4's involvement in the blog, and I am going to forgive myself for making the mistake of forcing Boy #4 to be OK with this situation. It sucks that I will no longer be able to write about him here, because I actually think this medium was helping my relationship with him. If it is hurting him though, it is just not worth it.
It is funny how your senses become heightened when you are at a turning point in your life. After I had loaded the last box into my car and turned in my pink sign-out sheet, I just began wandering around the school. If anyone asked, I had a purpose; I was looking for one of the plant managers to ask him if I could borrow a rolly trashcan to throw out the buffalo-sized bag of trash that was consuming the middle of my room. But even as I was walking around, I realized that was silly -- I didn't even have the keys at that point, and I had no real intention of entering that room again. I just wanted to see the place, as an insider, one last time. So I walked around, and smelled everything. I archived the smell of the disenfectant they use to clean the floors. The faint smell of the rosebushes that surround the small parking lot. That weird, indescribable smell of the hallway, it just smells like school. And I listened to the defeaning silence of the school, and the quiet buzz of the people who were finishing up for the day. I watched the pidgeons fight over a forgotten piece of bread, and coo in contempt after losing ground. I looked for a long time at the way the blue and white buildings cut into the clear blue sky.
And I guess when I walked out, and got into my car, I expected it all to stop, because for me, this was it. This was the end of teaching, the end of being a part of the community, the end of my first real job. I drove away, feeling like I just broke up with somebody. I was, and am still, heartbroken. Not because I want to go back to teaching, but just because it is no longer a part of my reality. I think I am afraid to fail, or afraid I am making the wrong decision. I think I stayed after, walking around, because I expected some internal neon sign to start blinking and screaming, 'you're doing the right thing! run! run now!'
I do feel like I am doing the right thing, but internally, I am only 90 percent convinced. How that other 10 percent is going to be converted is beyond me right now.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On a completely different note, Boy #4 will no longer appear in the blog. Too many people know who he is, and for the first time that I know of, someone gave him shit about it the other day. When boy #4 tried to play it off, the person said, 'guess you don't really like having your personal life broadcasted, huh?' (or something to that affect). I'm kind of pissed about that, but I guess it is inevitable with things like this. Why that person would feel the need to bring up the blog to Boy#4 is beyond me. I feel incredibly guilty for putting Boy #4 anywhere close to that situation. Even though it is June 30, I am going to start working on that forgiveness thing early. I am going to forgive that person for making fun of Boy#4's involvement in the blog, and I am going to forgive myself for making the mistake of forcing Boy #4 to be OK with this situation. It sucks that I will no longer be able to write about him here, because I actually think this medium was helping my relationship with him. If it is hurting him though, it is just not worth it.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Mr. Byrne, you can sing Beyonce anytime
Wow, so it's been a few days since I have blogged. Bad self. Bad baddy bad bad. Here's what's been happening:
1. I had to go in for a colonoscopy on Friday, which sort of sucked. The prep went OK, as did the procedure. Actually it was kind of scary to be in that situation alone. They don't let visitors back into the recovery/prep area, so you are just waiting there, with the IV in your arm, hooked up to the heart monitor for about 30 minutes before you go on. There were a bunch of old ladies waiting to get theirs done too, and they were all moaning about being too cold or waiting too long. Nonetheless, during the time before my procedure, I was amazed by how diverse the staff was. If you ever question the multiculturalism of America, take a nice little trip down to Cedar Sinai. I think you will be pleasantly suprised. The staff was comprised of all races, nationalities and sexes. The team that took care of me was comprised of a Korean lady, a Filipino man, a Jamaican woman and a Japanese man. My anesthesiologist was also Asian, although I could not nail down whether she was Korean or Chinese, or even Taiwanese (je suis un Americane stupide, je sais, je sais). The whole room could have been a corporate promotional video, everybody working together, side by side, la da dee da dododo goulet...!
2. Before an after the procedure, Boy #4 was incredible. He took such good care of me, I am not sure I deserved it. We went to eat at the Newsroom Cafe and then went to see Rize at the Mann Chinese Theater. I think the movie was good, but to be honest, I was still in a drug haze, so I don't remember much. After the movie Boy #4 took me back home and I slept until morning. (Ps. thank you, Jrey, CelinaBeena, PrincessRockstar and Mia for the texts, they made me smile until my cheeks fell off.)
3. On Sunday, Boy #4 and I joined Toddykins and VivaciousVanessa for the David Byrne/Arcade Fire show at the Hollywood Bowl. When we finally arrived at the bowl, we felt extra confident and began to look for the will call line. When we approached the ticket windows, we saw a large line. Now, when I say large, I don't just mean 30 or 40 people. No, no, my friends, this line wrapped clear around to the edge of the parking lot. Needless to say, we were a bit peeved, but we followed the evil snaking mass of concert goers around the path until we found the end. We tried to distract ourselves by playing "line games" and making T-dogg dance, but no amount of sidesteps could distract us from the blatant inefficieny of the will call system. Next time, we WON'T call, thank you very much.
(Still 3) Eventually, we did make it into the bowl, which is HUMONGUS yet very beautiful. It is nestled in the valley of the large hills/mountains of Griffith Park. The sound was incredible - you could actually hear every instrument, including the often inaudible violins. I must admit that my appreciation for arcade fire grew incrimentally as the show went on. They are really talented musicians, and basically rock the f out of every song they play. Their album is definitely going to rotate in my car this week. David Byrne knocked my socks off. Both pairs. And I wasn't even wearing socks. He played a bunch of Talking Heads songs, including "Home" and "Psycho Killer." He has a funny little dance he does with his hips, which was really quite cute. You can always tell who has real vocal talent by how much an artist dances on stage. For example, Britney Spears has to dance a lot to make up for the fact that she sucks, whereas David Byrne can just sort of scoot around and still have the audience in the palm of his hand.
(Yep, 3) The real tofutti cutie of the night was when Mr. Byrne brought out the Extra Action Marching Band to join him for his last song. Now, you might be thinking, what could possibly add extra action to a marching band? I'll just give you this image and let you figure the rest out: the flag girls (and not all of them were girls) incorporated a move into their routiene where they pretended to masturbate using their flags. You with me now? Tremendous. So what does he do, now that he has a full band and erotic dancers to back him up. HE FUCKING COVERED 'CRAZY' BY BEYONCE! The whole bowl went nuts. It was, quite possibly, the best cover I have ever seen live. I hate that stupid song, but with the Extra Action Band in the background and Byrne holding down the vocals, it was heaven.
1. I had to go in for a colonoscopy on Friday, which sort of sucked. The prep went OK, as did the procedure. Actually it was kind of scary to be in that situation alone. They don't let visitors back into the recovery/prep area, so you are just waiting there, with the IV in your arm, hooked up to the heart monitor for about 30 minutes before you go on. There were a bunch of old ladies waiting to get theirs done too, and they were all moaning about being too cold or waiting too long. Nonetheless, during the time before my procedure, I was amazed by how diverse the staff was. If you ever question the multiculturalism of America, take a nice little trip down to Cedar Sinai. I think you will be pleasantly suprised. The staff was comprised of all races, nationalities and sexes. The team that took care of me was comprised of a Korean lady, a Filipino man, a Jamaican woman and a Japanese man. My anesthesiologist was also Asian, although I could not nail down whether she was Korean or Chinese, or even Taiwanese (je suis un Americane stupide, je sais, je sais). The whole room could have been a corporate promotional video, everybody working together, side by side, la da dee da dododo goulet...!
2. Before an after the procedure, Boy #4 was incredible. He took such good care of me, I am not sure I deserved it. We went to eat at the Newsroom Cafe and then went to see Rize at the Mann Chinese Theater. I think the movie was good, but to be honest, I was still in a drug haze, so I don't remember much. After the movie Boy #4 took me back home and I slept until morning. (Ps. thank you, Jrey, CelinaBeena, PrincessRockstar and Mia for the texts, they made me smile until my cheeks fell off.)
3. On Sunday, Boy #4 and I joined Toddykins and VivaciousVanessa for the David Byrne/Arcade Fire show at the Hollywood Bowl. When we finally arrived at the bowl, we felt extra confident and began to look for the will call line. When we approached the ticket windows, we saw a large line. Now, when I say large, I don't just mean 30 or 40 people. No, no, my friends, this line wrapped clear around to the edge of the parking lot. Needless to say, we were a bit peeved, but we followed the evil snaking mass of concert goers around the path until we found the end. We tried to distract ourselves by playing "line games" and making T-dogg dance, but no amount of sidesteps could distract us from the blatant inefficieny of the will call system. Next time, we WON'T call, thank you very much.
(Still 3) Eventually, we did make it into the bowl, which is HUMONGUS yet very beautiful. It is nestled in the valley of the large hills/mountains of Griffith Park. The sound was incredible - you could actually hear every instrument, including the often inaudible violins. I must admit that my appreciation for arcade fire grew incrimentally as the show went on. They are really talented musicians, and basically rock the f out of every song they play. Their album is definitely going to rotate in my car this week. David Byrne knocked my socks off. Both pairs. And I wasn't even wearing socks. He played a bunch of Talking Heads songs, including "Home" and "Psycho Killer." He has a funny little dance he does with his hips, which was really quite cute. You can always tell who has real vocal talent by how much an artist dances on stage. For example, Britney Spears has to dance a lot to make up for the fact that she sucks, whereas David Byrne can just sort of scoot around and still have the audience in the palm of his hand.
(Yep, 3) The real tofutti cutie of the night was when Mr. Byrne brought out the Extra Action Marching Band to join him for his last song. Now, you might be thinking, what could possibly add extra action to a marching band? I'll just give you this image and let you figure the rest out: the flag girls (and not all of them were girls) incorporated a move into their routiene where they pretended to masturbate using their flags. You with me now? Tremendous. So what does he do, now that he has a full band and erotic dancers to back him up. HE FUCKING COVERED 'CRAZY' BY BEYONCE! The whole bowl went nuts. It was, quite possibly, the best cover I have ever seen live. I hate that stupid song, but with the Extra Action Band in the background and Byrne holding down the vocals, it was heaven.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
So this is the new year
Tonight was another affirmation of the idea that a trip to the gym always provides clarity. Whenever I am not sure what to do about something, or upset about something, or what have you, I am going to head directly to the gym. When I was running tonight, I had an epipheny. Actually, it was probably due to the multitude of deep conversations I had today, but it seemed to all come together in the middle of the second uphill mile.
Now is my chance to start over.
For the past few weeks, I have been looking at the end of everything. It is the end of my TFA committment. The end of teaching. In four weeks, the end of Boy#4. The end of life in WeHo with Alekandrizx.
I keep forgetting to see the beginning that comes after the end. It is the beginning of a new job, with new challenges that will most likely shape my life. It is the beginning of being single again, scary, but exciting at the same time. It is the beginning of a time when I can work on myself, so I am better in the next relationship that may come along. It is the beginning of life in Los Feliz/Silverlake, in my own apartment, where I can walk around naked if I want. It is the beginning of having a vacation home in Long Beach. It is the beginning of me calling my friends when I want to see them, and being OK if they don't call me.
Therefore, I am throwing out my January 1, 2005. On July 1, I begin my new year, starting with my new job. I am going to make a conscious effort to be better, in all aspects of my life. Fortunately, I have a blog to keep me in check. ;)
Now is my chance to start over.
For the past few weeks, I have been looking at the end of everything. It is the end of my TFA committment. The end of teaching. In four weeks, the end of Boy#4. The end of life in WeHo with Alekandrizx.
I keep forgetting to see the beginning that comes after the end. It is the beginning of a new job, with new challenges that will most likely shape my life. It is the beginning of being single again, scary, but exciting at the same time. It is the beginning of a time when I can work on myself, so I am better in the next relationship that may come along. It is the beginning of life in Los Feliz/Silverlake, in my own apartment, where I can walk around naked if I want. It is the beginning of having a vacation home in Long Beach. It is the beginning of me calling my friends when I want to see them, and being OK if they don't call me.
Therefore, I am throwing out my January 1, 2005. On July 1, I begin my new year, starting with my new job. I am going to make a conscious effort to be better, in all aspects of my life. Fortunately, I have a blog to keep me in check. ;)
And this is why I love YA fiction..
Some people make fun of me for liking YA lit so much. You know what I say to them? POOP! Young adult fiction can oftentimes be superior to adult fiction. Here is a perfect example from the book I just finished, entitled "A Great and Terrible Beauty" by Libba Bray:
"But forgiveness..I'll hold on to that fragile slice of hope and keep it close, remembering that in each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We're each our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We've got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there's an awful lot of gray to work with. No one can live in the light all of the time."
Fucking brilliant, I say. I know it is not an original idea, but it is well-timed. The idea of forgiveness. Forgiving yourself for being both good and bad, and realizing the importance of that equillibrium.
And perhaps, in regards to our most recent blogs, we can forgive ourselves for our mistakes in relationships. Wanting too much or not wanting enough, wavering between the player and the played, being the giver and the taker. I think, Machellian, in regards to your question earlier ('but what IS love?'), THAT is what love is. The "something solid" we hope to emerge into. Everything we are doing now is just an illusion.
"But forgiveness..I'll hold on to that fragile slice of hope and keep it close, remembering that in each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We're each our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We've got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there's an awful lot of gray to work with. No one can live in the light all of the time."
Fucking brilliant, I say. I know it is not an original idea, but it is well-timed. The idea of forgiveness. Forgiving yourself for being both good and bad, and realizing the importance of that equillibrium.
And perhaps, in regards to our most recent blogs, we can forgive ourselves for our mistakes in relationships. Wanting too much or not wanting enough, wavering between the player and the played, being the giver and the taker. I think, Machellian, in regards to your question earlier ('but what IS love?'), THAT is what love is. The "something solid" we hope to emerge into. Everything we are doing now is just an illusion.
Monday, June 20, 2005
If you blog it..
Here is solid evidence that if you blog it, it will come. Yay.
So remember that blog I wrote today, about Boy #4 not fulfilling my romantic needs? Yeah, well, you can forget that. He is wonderful. I am swooning.
Today I found out that I have to go to the hospital for a procedure on Friday. They are knocking me out completely, so I need someone to take care of me. Immediately, I thought of him, and not just because he is on summer vacation and has a vehicle. OK, maybe it had a little to do with that, but I like to think I that there are only a few people I would trust with my care after heavy doses of morphine (sp?).
I was nervous to ask him, afraid of his reaction. Was this something only serious friends do for each other? Would he be freaked out? Then I thought, well, i would do it for him in a heartbeat, so why wouldn't he do it for me?
Not only was he absolutely willing to drive me, he was not at all freaked out by my condition. Thank kittens. See? It's the little things that get me. The fact that he is willing to help me through a really yucky experience is enough to make me stay up past 11 pm.
So remember that blog I wrote today, about Boy #4 not fulfilling my romantic needs? Yeah, well, you can forget that. He is wonderful. I am swooning.
Today I found out that I have to go to the hospital for a procedure on Friday. They are knocking me out completely, so I need someone to take care of me. Immediately, I thought of him, and not just because he is on summer vacation and has a vehicle. OK, maybe it had a little to do with that, but I like to think I that there are only a few people I would trust with my care after heavy doses of morphine (sp?).
I was nervous to ask him, afraid of his reaction. Was this something only serious friends do for each other? Would he be freaked out? Then I thought, well, i would do it for him in a heartbeat, so why wouldn't he do it for me?
Not only was he absolutely willing to drive me, he was not at all freaked out by my condition. Thank kittens. See? It's the little things that get me. The fact that he is willing to help me through a really yucky experience is enough to make me stay up past 11 pm.
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