City life

It seems like life is getting more silly by the day.

Today, after a particularly frustrating meeting, I debriefed (no, not that kind of debriefing) with a few staff members. I was comforted by the fact that they were both equally dumbfounded by what went on. We sat there, laughing and wrinkling our brows at the ridiculousness of the situation. The fact is, that we don't have time to f around any more. You, yes you, doing that whatever job in whatever office, you have to stop and immeadiately figure out how you are contributing to making this place better. It is clear that we cannot do this alone. We need partners. Bad policy is made without stakeholders, which is clearly demonstrated by our present administration. There is a magic pill for this tragicomedic system of education in Los Angeles.

It's people.

Giving.

A shit.

Not just administrators, not just teachers, not just parents. But students. And business people. And that guy on the corner who sells pupusas.

I have been reminded repeatedly this week about a comic I read once in my history of comic book art class. It was a commentary on city life, about how disconnected we all are. I can't remember who wrote it, or even the title. But the basic gist of it was that there was a man who plunged to his death from his high rise apartment building, only to get wrapped up in an awning on his way down. You could see his feet sticking out from the awning, but not a single passerby stopped to check on the body.

I find the situation in LA to be somewhat similar. The body of this city is too hard for one person to move, regardless of how many times he smiles or appears on the George Lopez show. We are inherently segmented here. We build big walls and place community markets just out of walking distance of housing. We discourage socializing by prohibiting outdoor cafes. We discourage public transportation by using snail-buses instead of trains to move our people. We sabotage our public selves in the name of self-interest.

You can see it boiling, bubbling, the tiny red lines in people's eyes. They are ready for change, but not quite willing to do the work.

Yet.

When they get it right

Isn't it strange when you hear a song, and you realize that you could not have written it better yourself? I mean, I guess that happens for a lot of people when they write songs like:

"I love you baby, yes I do,
I love you baby, your eyes are so cool,
etc. etc. etc."

Chances are everyone at some point felt like that, but I am talking really, really specific lyrics that make you wonder if the government/record companies are somehow tapping into your subconscious. Check this out:

"What is Your Secret"
by Nada Surf

so we sat and talked
then we walked and talked but
thought it was the truth
what is your secret?

dragged it on and on
even favorite songs but
your division's wrong
what is your secret?

i don't care about you anymore
the people are tired
our movies don't play much anymore
the actress was fired

you said you were yourself
not being someone else
that this was new for you
but what is your secret?

you said just what I said
so why's the meter red?
and why's the needle pegged?
what is your secret?

you want to control
you want to be controlled
you're like a little switch
and then you take your toll

your every reckless twist
i wasn't made for this
thank god life is so long
and the city so big

i don't think about you any more
i try not to think about you



For the love of eggplants, that could not be more spot on in terms of how I am feeling about #6. The city so big? Our movies don't play much anymore? You're like a little switch, and then you take your toll?

Perhaps the human condition is just so similar, that if you wait long enough, someone, somewhere, will feel exactly what you feel. At least I am not the only one.

Repeat offender

This week has already been tragically humorous, and it is only thursday. My heart was prodded twice with a fork, from both sides.

On the left side (the working, rational side), the stuporintendent gouged me fairly hard by deciding that he was going to give our seven lowest performing high schools to charters. I have a bruise on my chin from when my jaw hit the floor when he announced that. Seriously, is he insane? Charters can be a part of the solution, yes, but are they the best option for converting our lowest performing schools? I think not. Instead of presenting a plan for actually implimenting small schools, he said nothing, a whole lot of nothing. What is consistent about school reform? Every plan calls for small classes, low teacher load, teacher-created curriculum, autonomy over budgeting, authentic assessment and community involvement. Why can't we just f-ing get to that? I have never been so challenged in my entire life. Strike that, my first year of teaching was way more challenging. This is almost harder though, because at least when I was teaching, I could claim a small piece of control over the people who were affecting performance the most (the kiddies). I have a sliver of power now, but I have to exert it very, very, very carefully. Thinking before speaking is not optional in this job. You have to watch every word, make sure what you are saying has a point every second of every minute of the day, otherwise people will stop listening to you, and start listening to someone else.

On the right side, #6 and I had a well-predicted falling out of sorts. I am not even sure we are still together right now. As far as I am concerned, we're not. He gave me the whole, "I just can't be your steady boyfriend" shpiel, and told me that a few weeks ago, he made out with someone at the shortstop. I told him I had my suspicions that he was seeing other people, and he assured me he was never serious about anyone else. He said he is not used to getting all the attention he is getting from girls, and if he gets into an "interesting" situation with another girl, he does not want to have to feel guilty about it. Fine, I said, I don't recall us ever having the conversation about being exclusive. He insisted that things just got serious without the conversation, so he just wanted to make things clear. I asked him if he wanted to stop seeing me, and he kept saying no. I just don't get it. If you want to be with someone, why is it necessary to hook up with other people? I guess it is a college mentality, the whole i-can't-be-tied-down thing. I am so tired of hearing that same chord progression.

So, fuck it. If he wants to see me, let him come. I'll see him IF I have time. The problem is that I like him, a lot. To a fault even, because I hear myself making excuses for him. Excuses for him not having a car, excuses for him not engaging in conversation with my friends, excuses for him not walking me out to my car at 2 am. Well, no more excuses.

Atonement and a shiny new face

Today was Yom Kippur, the day of atonement. I was all set to fast, because last year I sort of skipped out on that part. I took the day off of work, to be with the fam and to have an easy fast.

When I woke up with a headache this morning, I knew it was not going to be an easy fast, but I figured I would do it as long as I could. Unfortunately, my headache got so bad that I had to miss the evening service, which is my favorite service. As much contempt as I have for Judaism, I kind of like the high holidays. The prayerbooks my aunt and uncle's temple uses are quite progressive. One particular responsive prayer asks that higher being to forgive us for polluting the earth, for not being politically active, for being self-serving, for being xenophobic, for not conducting business morally, for resorting to war instead of peace, for forgetting the means by only concentrating on the ends, and various other sins we all committ at one time or another. I thought a lot about the past year, what I did that was reprehensible, the people I hurt, the times I should have been more honest, the times I was lazy, the times I was apathetic. The good news is that I think I am becoming more conscious of the possible consequences of my actions before I act. I think that is a step in the right direction. Hopefully I will have less to repent next time.

One thing that the rabbi mentioned in his sermon was that he believes Jews are "genetically hard wired for hope." While I don't believe that is limited to just Jewish people, I would like to think that is true of the Jewish people, or at least of myself. I have always been kind of a dreamer, a hoper of sorts. Even at 24, I have not lost faith in people. I keep pledging not to lose this, to write it down, not to forget what I felt at 10, 16, 21 and 24, so I can feel the same love and happiness about the world at 28, 47 and 65.

This rabbi's comment about being hard-wired for hope made me think a lot about our experience in TFA. I think you can go two directions after your two year committment. You can either resign yourself to believing that we are doing harm, upsetting these communities and ruining children forever (ahem, "Taught By America" lady). Or your faith in humanity can be renewed. Why do people keep on teaching? Why do they keep feeling passionate about change, about education, after they are thrown into the worst of conditions? Teaching in Los Angeles uncovers your spirit, there is no way to hide it. Why did we all become overly dramatic in our first year? It is like someone took a brush and keep sloughing off the layers of conformity we all developed during our time in college. We entered somewhat the same, and came out drastically different. I am proud of that. I am glad to have shed the cocoon that was encasing my passion for believing in the world, for believing in people. Now I have armor so tough, that even when #6 says I am too idealistic, I can shake it off. I think it makes us better people, if we are confident in our beliefs without insisting that others adopt the same beliefs.

Rollerskatin' Baby

So much to blog, so much to say.

I’m in a bad mood, probably hormones, but I will explain the other rationale for that towards the end of this blog.

Let’s start with the rollerskating/shortstop extravaganza.

It.

Was.

Incredible.

A HUGE, GIGANTIC, COLOSSAL thank you to everyone who came. There were several times during the night when I gushed to various people about how great it was to have everyone in the same place. I was missing a few (ce-ce, toddykins, jrey, mimi, etc.), but the collection of excellent people really was the best birthday present I have ever received.

And now, the whole story.

So the evite said show up at 7:30 to the wonderful Glendale Moonlight Rollerway. Alright, I thought, I’ll go on time so no one has to be there alone. Well psha, I sat in my freakin car, watching the teenagers unload from their parent’s tan minivans and green wagons until Jeffers and Setharian pulled up. Shortly after their arrival, Boy #6 and his friend rolled in on their bikes, and Princess and Little A came truckin in.

So we had a nice little group going, and as the minutes rolled by, it multiplied until we had about 14 people rollering around the floor. Everyone looked like a rock star (yes, even you chewie). We ate orange/lemon ice pops and did couples skating to some obscure love ballad that I think was actually Christian soft rock. They played Bowie and silly things like Nelly Furtado. We were bitter when they had professional backwards skating, and yet it was very entertaining to see the professionals do their tricks. At some point, I think Tino wore skates without socks, but I am not sure how that all went down. We ended up basking in the Moonlight until about 10, and then we headed over to the Shortstop.

I feel the need to give a warning before I tell the next part of the story – I don’t remember much of this part, so I apologize if it seems full of holes.

After a quick costume change and kitty petting session, Boy#6, Briowen (his friend) and I went down to the shortstop. Fortunately, this time, there was no line, and no one was getting their ass kicked outside the bar. I was happy to find that biggie shmalex, glassosherry and rainyday were already at the bar. Yay! More of my favorite people. I was taking it slow, sucking back a vodka and sprite, dancing a little and catching up with buddies. Then Tino and friends arrived, and I began to lose sobriety shortly after. I remember another vodka sprite, a shot of vodka, something from princess involving goldshlager and yaegermeister, and a martini. I remember balance issues on the dance floor, but no falling. I think we closed down the bar, because we left. I cannot imagine that we would have left before we were forced to. I remember saying something incriminating to TFA staff who had come to the bar at some point, and then walking down the street with Boy#6, Briowen, Arod and her two buddies, M1 and M2.

Once we got to the Brite Spot, I decided I needed to go home. Boy#6 was engaged in conversation with one of the M’s, so I started to walk out and call a cab. I don’t remember what I told the cab operator, but I do remember that she was laughing at me. I planted myself outside on the Brite Spot benches to wait for the cab. Fortunately, Briowen came out to check on me. Shortly after, I tossed my pasta. In the damn Brite Spot parking lot. I was so embarrassed. I think I was crying. Boy#6 traded places with Briowen, and called a cab, because I guess it was clear that mine was not coming.

And then morning came. Shit. I was late taking the kitties to get spayed and neutered. I tossed the little piles of fur in their carrier, threw on clothes, and hopped in the car. I was kind of OK on the drive there, but I had to pull over on the drive back, because I began recalling what I had to drink the night before, and felt ill. Fortunately, the pull-off I happened to be closest to was Griffith Park, so I just pulled under a tree and fell asleep in the car for a few minutes. When I was feeling better, I returned to la maison, where #6 was still asleep in my bed.

I tried desperately to sleep, on and off I did it. At one point, I came out to the living room where Bryowen and #6 were discussing the previous night. I am certain I looked like total ass, and probably smelled bad. I inquired about how Briowen finally made it back to my apartment after #6 and I had taken the taxi. #6 said something like, “ Yeah, I kept calling M, asking where you were.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was just my jealous tendencies, but the fact that #6 (oops!) got that girl’s number just rubbed me the wrong way. I mean, she was gorgeous, an actress, and very outgoing. I had reason to be jealous/suspicious, I suppose.

But what made it worse, was that after Sunday, #6 initiated no contact with me the entire week. I thought for certain we were finished. Another one that I fucked up, because of bad communication or letting my feelings get away from me. He explained that he was just busy, and did not mean to keep me in the dark, and no, he was not seeing anyone else.

Yesterday, we hung out for the first time since last weekend. It felt fine, and actually the night was great, because we started out at the Getty. I was on edge all night, just waiting for him to break up with me. I like him, a lot lot lot. I am starting to get that feeling of powerlessness in this relationship though, which is bad.

More often I seem to be having the conversation about a sort of relationship existentialism. If you are not going to marry the person, you are going to break up with them, and it’s gonna suck. Break up is inevitable. I don’t want to be a pessimist about this, and I am not anywhere near ready for marriage. I think I am just looking for someone who I don’t have to be nervous about.

(Oh, and just to review, here are the #s again:
#1 - ex-boyfriend who ran off to south america
#2 - long time friend, who I am always falling in and out of love with. Presently out.
#3 - Short lived, hookup friend.
#4 - Well, don't we all know #4?
#5 - The visitor
#6 - The present and sickeningly wonerful boy) Enjoy!

You say it's your birthday?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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?

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.

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.