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).

for your inconsideration: the rain and scaffolding edition

Something that stays constant in this city is the many ways people misbehave to keep each other miserable. These inconsiderate behaviors of course seems magnified when I am going through a rough patch (which, let's be honest, has been the truth for quite a while now, at least in heavy, suffocating bursts).

Since it's a day of rain, I fully anticipate one of my most unfavorite misbehaviors to run rampant involving umbrellas and scaffolding. Just a note to New Yorkers -- if you are carrying an umbrella and walking under scaffolding through the always narrow space that is left for walking, please close your damn umbrellas. It's just common sense (and common sense that you're less likely to get wet when you have a basically built-in roof over your head for a few blocks).

Join me for the next edition of "for your inconsideration" when I discuss the importance of choosing the giant meal you insist on eating while you ride the subway (or worse, the crowded bus) wisely.

In positive news, I saw Griffin, the lovely African American one-legged, semi-homeless man that I used to bring holiday meals and bread to (and who used to love and pet my dog of the same name back when I lived on 93rd Street nine years ago) yesterday while walking home from the doctor's office. He used to sit outside the deli in comfortable sweatsuits and heavy jackets on the northeast corner of 92nd St. and 2nd Ave. on a milk crate, or stand on his crutches. What always made me happy about him is that he never actually asked for anything, even though people often gave him spare change or food. He just wanted some conversation, to chat about books or movies or politics. The last time I saw him was about seven years ago, when he excitedly told me he had found a part-time job and would be staying with his sister nearby. I hope he's doing even better now (I probably should've asked). Yesterday, he was looking grayer and slightly thinner, but he was still cheery. I don't think he remembered me, but he did say, "Hello." For some reason I felt a little sad he was back to sitting there, especially because while the deli's stark-white awning painted in sweeps of the rainbow remains, the actual establishment has been closed since about 2004, a colorful ghost of itself. And the 2nd Avenue subway construction has claimed most of the corner as its victim.

so much for meditation ...

I promised almost a week ago (was it a week ago?) that I was going to do a daily meditation project and get up every day and stick to a schedule of positive focus in the morning. So far, I did it once, and then gave up. I guess I can always start over again, but I definitely failed at my first attempt, and any further attempts are going to have to be called new experiments and not part of the first one.

I think I am sadly like most other greedy, instant gratification junkies: I want all the positive results of meditation -- balance, happiness, satisfaction -- without having to do any of the work. And of course, everyone knows most of the good energy comes from the process and not the ends.

so many opportunities

There were so many opportunities to write this weekend, and I missed all of them. It really was one of the worst Thanksgiving weekends I've ever had. But it's another week. I'll frankly be happy when Christmas and New Year's is over.

Wow, is that negative?

the meditation experiment

(No, I didn't say "medication.")

In the interest of thinking about balance achieved only in my dreams and literally the past few days (and longer, if we're being honest), I decided to start a regiment of meditation this morning: 15 minutes a day, every day, no days off. I realize I need forced time to clear my mind. I'm choosing two words/ideas a week to think about, and I am not allowed to think about anything else. It didn't go so well this morning, as my need to check the clock and thoughts of "my knee hurt, my head hurts, my life hurts, my to-do list is too long" invaded. Still, I think I probably only had about a minute of lapse total in between all the 15 minutes, so it's not a bad start.

This week's words to put out there: "hope;" "love."

I'm not publicly this touchy/feely/new agey (though there's a lot of it deep inside my head), but I know I definitely need to slow down and listen. Clues are all around me.

songily

I must write a new Mister Badger song. I feel pretty resolute about that. I've had too much complexity in relationships lately and have been having a difficult time making emotions fit into easy, breezy-sounding country/folk/pop songs. Of course, there was nothing more complex than the romantic situation that sparked all the songwriting for the project initially, but I had a couple years of thinking and the natural evolution of a band idea in its beginning stages to help me pour material out of me.

My current "situation" is fairly new, and it feels much more "alternative and modern" than "country and traditional."

That last sentence could not be more illustrative of the truth, even if it was initially (as it was forming in my head) meant to be just musical style metaphors and not reality.

today is different

Today I'm starting out my day by writing something (anything) here. I woke up pretty ridiculously late for a weekday, but I just sort of decided that clear-headedness comes from good sleep, and I was not sleeping very well, so I better sleep if tiredness was still there.

Wow. That first paragraph is maybe why writing anything worth looking at when first awake is not a good idea.

I've actually been having pretty intense dreams lately. In my dream last night I was 16 in body, but I was my age in spirit. I had traveled back in time to high school and was being awkwardly courted by someone's 15-year old brother ... and also Sylvester Stallone. It was pretty awkward. I was set to play a cello recital with my mom, who kept sending me text message photos of different outfits she was planning to wear for my approval. Of course, I could also fly, as could everyone else. But they were all afraid of it, and thus couldn't figure out how to take it outside the house, because they were worried they would fly too high without a ceiling to stop them. I thus was charged with teaching people how to control it. I kept saying, "It's all about balance."

The day I understand balance will be a dream ... or will be when pigs, not people, fly ...

The Essay Project

The essay project lives today. I'm taking advantage of slowed-down-almost-everywhere-else Thanksgiving week to write some more chapters (and get into some of the tougher subjects), like love, childhood and other tales of woe and embarrassment.

I'm feeling a little inspired and amused (for perhaps no real reason), so we'll see how it all goes ... The pressure of needing to sell some of my work soon to survive doesn't hurt either.

technology ruins the world

The world is about to end, I think (or at least I wish it would).

I just witnessed a FourSquare check-in at the gynecologist's office.

I have a lot more thoughts about this, but my first thought was, sadly (and this actually makes me just as bad as this person that checked in publicly), "... I can't post my outrage on Facebook because this person will know I'm talking about her."

Dislikes Include ...

Not to be negative, but there are things that bother me from time to time (I know, it's surprising).

Here is my top one at the momet:

The creepy song from this commercial. The woman's voice along with the term "hide and boo" (what exactly does that mean?) makes me feel beyond violated.

I had a dream last night that I was taking care of a friend's baby on a giant bus (it was more like a cruise ship) while Robin Williams performed stand-up in what would've qualified as a basement had we not all been on a bus. But he had decided to start performing it musically, while playing guitar, holding it like a violin under his chin. I couldn't figure out what had happened to my friend and her husband, and I had originally just found their baby placed on a comfy couch in front of the stand-up area, which was basically empty (no one wanted to see Robin Williams). Finally I got a phone call telling me they had been in a car accident while running out to get diapers (we were in Minnesota, and there was snow everywhere), but that they were fine and about to be released from the ER and would be back soon. At this point, the bus had stopped, and William Shatner had climbed on to inform us all that we had only paid $20 for the trip we were all taking together but that the cost had climbed way higher than that, and he was going to have to collect from us, since he had exhausted his life savings to cover the cost of renting the bus, Robin Williams' fee, etc. I was in the midst of fashioning a make-shift crib out of a car seat and some old, plaid couch cushions, but I managed to appease Shatner and get him to give us a break (I certainly had no extra money) simply by calling him "Bill" repeatedly.

I guess just because I hate a children's toy commercial doesn't mean I hate children.

The Little Things: The Caffeine Edition

It is my monthly week of poverty (still quite impoverished, but better than previous months, which isn't saying a lot, but is saying something) before my only predictable paycheck. The universe is really looking out for me, as coffee is one of the things that disappears from my budget, and I found 4 packets of Starbuck's Via instant coffee from a promotion they did in the spring in the pocket of an old coat.

Thanks for looking out for me, whoever/whatever you are. Now, get me some of these many contracts!

why the Internet was invented ...

In my opinion, this is exactly why the Internet was invented. It is the greatest thing I have ever seen, and I feel that I can die completely content at this point:



This could actually be behind the meaning of life ...

Things to Do Today, for Your Boring Pleasure

This is how exciting my life has become. I've used up my creativity on a news piece about Facebook, so all that's left in my brain at the moment is a to-do list (not necessarily in this order):

1. Laundry (in progress);
2. Article about texting etiquette (hopefully fun);
3. A run (I am planning to do a 4-mile race in December, which sounds easy enough, but I've been so lazy);
4. Practice cello things (power pop show tomorrow!).

And, here are things I would ideally LIKE to do, but that aren't essential:

1. Work on my book of essays (maybe even tackle a very difficult "love" related chapter, while the more specific topic it discusses is still fresh);
2. Write another dating article for the pay-per-click site I neglect regularly;
3. Do some more apartment cleaning/organizing.

There you have it. It's life in the fast lane ...

Happy Halloween

While I don't participate in Halloween in New York City (most years anyway), I do appreciate the amusement it sometimes brings me. Besides the enjoyment of watching torn-up people in costumes do the morning after Halloween night (or whichever weekend morning after the night that is designated as the official "drunk going out" Halloween) walk of shame, I enjoy watching people attempt to do regular, everyday things wearing their costumes.

Last night, I saw Darth Vader (complete with mask) discussing paying the babysitter with Little Bo Peep in the elevator of my building, followed by Farrah Fawcett (played by a man in drag) walking home from the grocery store, complete with a wig, a trench coat and heels, loaded down with bags of milk, cereal, bread and normal household staples.

I heart New York.

right writing

So, I need to get back into the habit of putting something on this page on a regular basis (as mentioned so many other times). This is the weekend to start that again (though not right this moment). I need to just accept that there is no right thought to put down and no right subject about which to write, and just start habitually committing language to the page. Here's to starting (on Halloween weekend). I certainly have more than a few things to say.

whoops

I have been working a little too hard on everything lately, hence my silence. The apartment has gone through Phase I of home improvement (first round of painting and the floors). Now, the clean up begins. Pictures coming soon (as well as a much more proper entry).

pre-sleep update ...

My life has been so consumed with regular paid work that I haven't had time to update this. It's no excuse, but I haven't even had anything uninteresting to say, let alone remotely interesting.

Home improvement continues at a steady and frantic pace, and the Craigslist obsession for cheap/free stuff to furnish and complete my apartment continues.

That is all ... I hope to get more creative tomorrow.

The Island of Almost Boyfriends

Just for fun the lyrics to one of my favorite one of my songs ever. Someone that heard it a while back said that it really resonated and was very illustrative of the experience of dating in Manhattan (which is, of course an island). Funny, because I totally never meant it to be about the urban experience and was much more caught up in the metaphor of failing multiple times (aka, over and over and over and over again) in love as being in a lovely tropical paradise that eventually implodes on itself. But, I guess that second metaphorical layer works pretty accurately too:

The Island of Almost Boyfriends

V1

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

You never have to wonder

How it all will end.

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

You never have to guess

That you almost have it made.

Have a drink in the shade

You almost have it made.

V2

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

You know right away

It’s going to end in heartache.

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

They always tell you up front

It’s never going to last.

Soak up love so fast

It’s never going to last.

CHORUS

“I was only looking for right away

I didn’t know forever would come so soon …”

It always ends in tragedy

Don’t be fooled

By the sun, the surf, the sand between your toes

The sky is oh so blue.

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

They are never expecting you.

V3

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

Don’t count any chickens

Because they just won’t hatch.

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

You think the roads lead to anywhere but

Right back from where you came.

Enjoy the walk, hand-in-hand

Right back from where you came.

CHORUS

“I was only looking for right away

I didn’t know forever would come so soon …”

The road will end in tragedy

Don’t be a fool

When the sun, the surf, the sand gets between your toes

Or the sky so blue

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

They are never expecting you.

BRIDGE

Go easy on your broken heart

It will break more in the end

If you let the sun, the surf, the sand,

The drinks go to your head

Enjoy the view across the bed, the stars

Every time that could be your last,

Will feel like your first.

Go easy on your broken heart

Or the boyfriends will get you in the end.

V4

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

You never have to wonder

How it all will end.

On the Island of Almost Boyfriends

You never have to guess

That you almost have it made.

Have a drink in the shade

You almost have it made.

CHORUS

“I was only looking for right away

I didn’t know forever would come so soon …”

The road that ends in tragedy

Will fool you

When the sun, the surf, the sand gets between your toes

And the sky so blue

Calls you on the Island of Almost Boyfriends

They are never expecting you.

Have a drink in the shade

You almost had it made.