there went a week of my life ...

Oh, flu, how you floored me.

Luckily, I'm better just in time for New Year's. I'm running the NYE run for NY Roadrunners in NYC, so it will be a mostly booze free affair, which I think is just delightful. Unfortunately, I've been out of commission for over a week, so that coupled with the piles of snow on the ground and chilly air could prove interesting. However, I think I'm going to be fine, since it's just a fun run.

There couldn't be anything less thrilling than most of that last paragraph.

digging out ...

I'm starting to dig myself out of the debris of my apartment. And I'm not just digging out of the recent debris, but out of the debris that have built up over the many years I've lived here, and the wreckage I brought with me from all the previous places in my life. And I have to say, as ridiculous and sunshine-out-my-ass as it sounds, under each layer I peel off is a fresh layer of hopeful peace that motivates me to keep going and to see the possibilities of the future. Also, I've confirmed what I have been suspecting already recently (and am somewhat angry I forgot for a long time): despite everything, I am at heart a pretty happy girl. Even the scars I've collected have been unregrettable, unforgettable and completely life altering. Not many people see the adventure that often just falls in my lap, despite my best intentions. And not many people have the gusto to take the risks I've taken, many of which have exploded into beautiful disasters. That is the unique tapestry of a life well lived. And without this well-lived life, the art I create in writing and music could not exist, so I just have to keep collecting experiences (and do a better job of making sure they don't invade my home cocoon in a way that buries me ever again).

It's never going to be a dull moment.

Pre-Christmas Quiet

I'm having a brain lapse week, much like the one you have right before you're going to go on vacation (or so I vaguely remember, since the last vacation I took was almost a decade ago). I'm not even intending to really take a full day off, aside from perhaps Christmas Eve and the day, and I've been spending money like crazy this week to batten down the holiday house hatches, so I'm pretty irritated with myself.

purging the dead

As I'm cleaning my apartment this weekend and feeling like I keep hitting mental roadblocks (and also tracking the sordid, unlucky history of this apartment in general), I'm realizing that in order to move forward with everything, I'm going to have to get rid of the tiny memories that are taking up cluttered space.

I feel like this apartment is caving in on me.

That means I need to throw away the small tidbits, like the program from a performance of Twelfth Night at an Astoria Beer Garden (I don't think the Astoria Beer Garden) 9 years ago, acted in by a guy Chris I was dating at the time (and let me tell you, that didn't last long). The few times I slept over at his apartment, also in Astoria, we stayed up all night in his twin bed scaring each other with not-even-that-scary ghost stories (and once watched his jobless, beer-gutted roommate's high school appearance on Jeopardy). The biggest (and maybe only) substantial thing I gained from that relationship was an introduction to one of my now-favorite movies, Drop Dead Gorgeous. And thus began a long string of almost-boyfriendly manchildren with futons and other problems. Why do I need a dot-matrix generated playbill to remind me? My memory is pretty clear, and if it gets fuzzy, I doubt a few sheets of paper are going to jog it. Also, everything keeps bringing me back to Astoria anyway (a lot of the more significant things have happened there), so I'm sure the universe will do me a solid and continue its madness until I get it right.

I'm never going to move forward if I can't let go of the little things.

So, here I go.

robot unicorn freestyle

I'm pretty sure I've been playing this game way too frequently on my iPhone lately in order to procrastinate doing actual work (and in order to lull myself to sleep). Firstly, even if it is ironic or making fun of unicorns, it has actually achieved being the ideal game for little girls that at any point were in love with unicorns. An Erasure soundtrack? A unicorn that flies and turns into rainbows? Dolphins? Purple magic? It really does have it all.

Secondly, it affected my dreams last night (in a slightly non-obvious way). I got stuck a few blocks from the house where I grew up, wearing nothing but the t-shirt I was sleeping in in real life. I was trying to get home, when I got stuck traipsing through the local pool, which I was of course able to jump over and through (like the unicorn) without it affecting my journey.

I frequently have dreams that I am back training as a serious swimmer, usually involving me having to swim the mile at a huge meet, or some other ridiculously long event or string of events (sometimes I'm just at a 3-day USS Meet) after not having swam in years. Leave it to me to combine swimming with unicorns.

next stop, Distraction

It's a well-known fact, at least within my apartment, that I've been a little writer's blocked lately. Perhaps it's that pre-Christmas brain freeze (much like the pre-vacation brain freeze, except without the vacation on the other end). If I can find a way to finish everything I need to do before Christmas (which would honestly only take me a couple days of heavy work), I think I need to take time off while my dad is here.

My brain is distracted by so many things, and I'm also finding myself afraid of finishing more of the essays I've been working on, mostly because they deal with emotionally difficult subject matter of all varieties, and I worry I won't do them justice ... you know, because I'm dead inside (oh, and that's sarcasm).

If anything, I feel and have felt too much, and that is actually the root of the current problem.

It all comes down to trust. We'll see if I can regain it.

creepy newness

Last night, I was walking along the East River with someone, who pointed out that when the Carl Schurz Park promenade is deserted and it's rainy, things can get a little (if not a lot) creepy. It does feel a bit like a horror movie, and the winding paths and stairs make you unsure of what might be around the next corner. Even though I know what's around most of the different bends, I still had an ominous feeling that I was being led to a slaughter, and I jumped a little at the sight of a few lone umbrellas in the dark distance. It feels like you could get pushed over the edge of the railing into the river, and no one would hear you or find you.

I run there a few times a week, and I've always been wary, especially when the devoted but very weird river fishermen with seemingly no jobs but an ample supply of boxes for catching crabs as well as other fancy fishing equipment that are out every single day look at me sideways. Today, because it was on the verge of freezing rain, no one was out, and I realized that the area is a little strange. Once mumbling homeless man touched me as I passed on the Randall's/Ward's Island foot bridge, and it felt like the ultimate violation, even though it was innocuous, and just to get my attention. I realized today that this feeling of possible violation at any moment and the idea that perhaps the man with the shopping cart that lives under the overpass at 110th Street might be a dormant serial killer is all part of the eerie factor I've tried to ignore.

the delicious element of surprise

I realized tonight (when someone else voiced it as true for him) that I get bored unless surrounded by bits of uncertainty and surprise. I don't think I can ever really thrive on any semblance of stability. Is that the idea artist's life? In terms of a "relationship" (and without getting too cliche-dly "Dear Diary" about it, this lasting relationship thing is the thing that has really eluded me), I want to be loved and comfortable, but I think I'm trying too hard to conform to what I think that love and comfort is supposed to be. It really is true that no one teaches us to date (another thing uttered tonight, and not by me); we learn weird versions of this type of social interaction from TV or movies, but it leaves us scrambling to understand how to behave or treat each other in a way that will bring us together for the long haul. In my version of "love," I need to be certain of someone's feelings, but I also need that person to be up for an adventure ... a risk taker willing to put it all out on the line every day, all the time, in every aspect (and not just when dealing with me). I think a person that understands that and lives and breathes that is the only person that is really going to be able to put up with me.

It's a tall order. The modern world mostly teaches us to be safe and calculate any risk before taking it, measuring our success in percentages and steering clear of things with little chance of working out in the end, even when our guts tell us we can definitely do these things and be happier than we ever imagined. We give up on our dreams sometimes in favor of "smart." And we even avoid tiny risks (that will definitely not result in death), like asking someone out or daring to express our true feelings (to anyone, about anything). And this keeps us pessimistic (everyone knows you don't succeed if you don't try, and all those other cliches that are cliches because they are so obviously true). I vote for optimism; and down with wishy washy non-commitalism. It's the only energy that's going to bring in my dream fellow emotional/life daredevil.

Sometimes you learn a lot of critical things about yourself in just a couple hours, usually when you're not trying (and especially when you've been trying for a long time previously) ... and always when you're completely unsuspecting. I think the fact that I experienced that tonight probably means something, but I'm up for not knowing what yet. I definitely got asked a lot of questions I didn't expect, some for which I didn't have answers. And I know these little moments where sparks fly (along with the dozens of other chemical reactions and coincidences that accompany them) and I am thrown for a loop and left a little breathless, without a definite idea of what's up the hill, or up the stairs, or what's waiting for me at the end of the road in the park are signs I'm going the right way.

In other-but-still-related news, I need to stop using comedy as a defense mechanism. I always regret it when I fail to express the truth in the moment simply because I'm afraid of a reaction or think it will expose my underbelly. Appearing too-good-to-be-true never gets anyone anywhere, even when the illusion is almost unquestionably real. And at worst, the person just comes across as suspicious and close to dropping the other shoe.

Today was a decent day, then a great day, then a phenomenal day, then a confusingly weird/iffy day, but then suddenly, it was an outstanding day again. Thanks, Universe, for the excitement of keeping me guessing ... but the reward of bringing it around at the end. I wasn't expecting any of this.

"I'm going to sleep now with visions of such sugar plums dancing ..."

I Keep Forgettin'

Because I felt rather uninspired today (or more accurately, because I was rather busy today), I am just now realizing I didn't post an update. Thus, it seems fitting I should inflict the slightly painful yet also guiltily pleasurable joy that is Michael McDonald. Thus, let my contribution for the day be represented by someone else's contribution (thanks, Michael):


Michael Mc Donald - I Keep Forgettin'
Uploaded by papafonk. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

travel on ...

Lately I've been very obsessed with spirituality and traveling, and these things in the form of journals, books, documentaries and other beautiful stories have been coming to me as if I am magnetic. Something deep and palpable within me is telling me I need to run away from home for at least 6 months to a spirit-filled place (and a place that is not necessarily renowned for being spiritual but simply speaks to me personally with that grand other-worldly voice) and find something currently undefined that will change my life. I have a tugging feeling that something amorphous but beautiful is waiting for me out there that will bring me balance, but I just don't know where it is. Still, I feel supremely motivated to do everything I can to pay painstaking attention to the signs that always come to often dramatically unveil where I am supposed to be.

dog needed

You'd think this video would make me want an orangutan, but it actually makes me want a dog again:



I actually realize that part of what I'm working towards by working so hard to try to make money as much as possible is getting another dog. My life just isn't the same without one. My dog was such a huge influencer in the person/grown-up I became from 22-33 (which is I think really when I *did* grow up) that I am excited to see how the next canine that mercifully comes into my life will shape me. While I have appreciated really getting to know Mister Fred, the cat in his own context, I know we're both hankering for some animal company.

'tis the season for book burning

I was thinking today about the people that have made it their job (or is it their hobby? I'm not sure if it's really a paid position, as it's likely something done as either part of a school board task list or else involves a volunteer "committee" of some sort) to sit down with literature they consider blasphemous and count each individual instance of "shit," "fuck" or "God damn," along with the number of times people use drugs, have sex or do other "unsavory" acts throughout the work ... and tally them up and write reports that give these specific numbers. That seems like an unnecessarily large task.

I really can't imagine feeling so passionate about hating specific works of art that I would take it upon myself to make it a full time job to prevent them from existing or being created. Also, this kind of toxic focus spreads like wildfire. No good can come of it.

Considering how traumatizing these people consider books like Tom Sawyer or Less Than Zero, I also can't imagine their work on counting instances of heroin use the "n" word would really contribute much to a positive mental state. To me, it sounds like a waste of time. It's the same way I feel about people that are not gay but just hate gay people trying to prevent them from living normal lives ... why do they care? For the most part, if you hate something, you can make choices that help you avoid it. If you don't like books about heroin, don't read them. And if you don't want your kids to read them, you're probably out of luck, especially since if you are the type of militant, closed-minded, control freak person that thinks destroying something someone else created, whether you agree with it or not, is your right as a human being, you probably are also the type of person that is going to instill the same passionate hatred in your kids. Either that, or your kids are going to see you're out of your mind and do the exact opposite of what you want them to do, thus ruining your efforts.

Really, either side of the censorship battle is a losing one, whether you are the censure or the one being censored. Why? Because not even the loudest, most obnoxious person can stop people from thinking for themselves. So, let's call a stalemate already or at least focus on something objective that can actually have a winner.

this one's for the little people

And by little people, I mean actual little people. I'm amused today by the fact that they installed new front doors on my building, and the locks are so low that I watched even a person that is about 5'1 struggle and stoop to get the key in at the right angle. I proved yesterday that even carrying one small grocery bag can make getting into the building completely impossible. Another raging success from my bumbling and ineffectual management company. Nice work, boys.

The rain continues today, and I continue to have a difficult time writing about anything important, even though there is a lot of important writing that needs to be done. We'll see what can happen wit a little hermitude (even though lately that has been mostly producing a lot of solo wine drinking).