Y2K(10)

I was listening to the big folk station in my car yesterday, and I heard "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk" (Rufus Wainwright), which I first heard when I was judging an a cappella competition at Lincoln Center two years ago. It was being sung by a group from Florida State University and the lead singer blew me away (as well as my friend/fellow judge, who was sitting next to me). Today, that same kid is serves on the board of directors of [music organization] that I serve on, and I'm happy to call him a friend. He's a dynamic, talented ball of light. Heaing that song reminded me that exactly 10 years ago today, I did a NYE gig in which we did a Loudon Wainwright III (Rufus' dad) song called "Y2K", which was so wordy that I'm fairly sure that noone else ever covered it. It took me forever to learn those lyrics and we only did that song at that gig, and never again.

Also, I was at the doctor's (trying to find out why I've been so sick for 10 months - turns out I'm allergic to a bunch of things, including CATS), and he prescribed (among other things) Astelin. While he was doing the skin testing on me, I was telling him about a friend of mine who was in the commercial for the drug, singing as "The Astelins", so he looked him up online (because, as usual, I felt lightheaded after the skin tests started to HURT, so we had time while my pansy-ass recovered), and decided he wants to go to see said friend live, which I wholly endorse.



The past few days have been strange. And I haven't even mentioned the CT scan, the flat tire, and the guy who came up to me and said, "your ex is HURTIN'!"...

I wonder if, at the end of each year, we have a penchant for talking about how terrible the year ending has been, and how we hope the next year will be better. It seems to me that these sentiments are repeated each year, but it does seem that 2009 has been particularly sucky all around. The destroyed economy notwithstanding, I personally know several people who have lost pets in the past few weeks (and another whose dog was diagnosed with cancer yesterday), one good friend whose mother had cancer surgery yesterday (waiting to hear the results on that, and very nervous), so many people struggling for the basics, my own brother's shocking divorce (and various other family issues), so many (global) significant deaths and unfortunate incidents.

In addition, I found something out yesterday that I'd been hoping I'd never find out, but...there it was. Now, deal with it. So yes, 2009 can kiss my ass. I hope that 2010 bodes better, and that at the end of that year, we're not singing the same lamentable tune.

Y2K
Loudon Wainwright III

A bunch of nerdy brainy guys a long way back
Invented a crazy little thing they called the Univac
For years now, they've been upgrading that thing
It can walk & talk & count & think & it can even sing
It can help you at school, church, business, and work
Makes you feel like a genius even though you're just a jerk
You get a computer, you sit it in your lap
It does a little bit of this it does a whole lotta that
It can boot you up, it can load you down
With that little bitty mouse you're gonna rule this town
But you're headed for trouble I do believe
It's coming your way on New Year's Eve now
Whoa what do you know
A few more measly more months to go

Hey what do you say, now here it comes now... Y2K

No it ain't a virus it's just a little glitch
It wan't done by some crazy hackin son of a bitch
And Sadaam didn't do it, can't blame him
No it's a geek with the glasses and the stupid silly grin
Billionaire Bill that's the one you can hate
If you want to blame someone blame Bill Gates

Bill said we'd make money, Bill said we'd have fun
But remember Hal the computer in 2001
We're in a time machine going back my friend
Doin 1900 all over again, well

We've been trucking down the information superhighway
But we'll be on a dirt road come Y2K
Call me old fashioned call me a fool
And yo can call me a Luddite & you can call me uncool
But we used to imagine, question, and dream
And now all of our answers come up on some screen
We're headed for trouble I do believe
It's coming your way on New Year's Eve Y 2 K

Breakdown... You better get ready, be very afraid
Because your money's no good & you'll never get paid
And the car won't start and the phone won't work
And the juice won't squeeze and the coffee won't perk
No more decaf latte baby...

You'll be doing the monkey, but there'll be a new twist
You'll still be alive but you will not exist
The stock market will crash, the air traffic will stop
You won't find a doctor, forget about a cop

There'll be a lot of lawyers with plenty to do
It's apocalypse now at a theatre near you
We're headed for trouble I do believe
It's coming your way on New Year's Eve

Meanwhile... Way over there in the old ancient Middle East
Them doomsday boys is having a feast
The end is at hand & they're down on their knees
They've been checking out all the bad-ass prophesies
This Y2K it's the latest craze
It's lock & load for the final days

Well I saw you on the plane playing solitaire
On that little laptop, with nary a care
Life's easy now, but it could get hard
Pretty soon you're gonna have to use a deck of real cards

[check out that last verse; given the new and "improved" flight restrictions after the latest thwarted blow-up-a-plane-to-get-1000-virgins attempt, it's prophetic]

Happy New Year.

Books and Movies 2009

I feel like I've left stuff out, but this is what I have written down.

BOOKS:

Feather Crowns / Bobbie Ann Mason*
Our Story Begins / Tobias Wolff*
Stories / TC Boyle*
A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again / DF Wallace*
Spark: The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain / John Ratey
High Spirits: A Collection of Ghost Stories / Robertson Davies*
The Kite Runner / Khaled Hosseini
Lit / Mary Karr*

MOVIES:

Grey Gardens (1.7.09)*
Grey Gardens (1.24.09 on DVD)*
The Reader (2.20.09)
Up (5.31.09)*
He's Just Not That Into You (6/09 on plane)
Man On Wire (6/26/09 at home)*
500 Days of Summer (8/4/09)*
Adam (9.4.09)
Revolutionary Road (9.19.09)
Mildred Pierce (10.30.09 at home)
Knocked Up (11.1.09 at home)
A Serious Man (11.6.09)*
This Is It (11.28.09 in Y-town with Chloe, Alex, Tomar, Dan, Dave, Nathalie and Sue)*
The Fantastic Mr. Fox (12.4.09)*

* = recommended

The year has ended with some great stuff - the last 3 movies on the list are fantastic, and Mary Karr's "Lit" has really stuck with me.

Lit

Omigod it's freezing. 27 degrees right now and a storm coming on. I've closed off my kitchen completely because it's so cold. The door and window are wind sieves. Cat food and water moved to the dining room. The kitchen temp is hovering at around 50 and I'm fairly sure that room is not insulated (not sure the rest of this place is either, since the heating bills are INSANE keeping the heat at 60), so my theory is that maybe the rest of the place will be a little more comfortable if I'm not heating the very cold, big drafty kitchen. So far this has not proven to work.

I am not getting any more used to this type of weather, there really isn't any romanticism to a snowstorm to me, especially being alone. It's nice to walk around when it's snowing at night, that is true, but everything that follows is misery: that parking spaces are limited because of snow piles, that the snow quickly becomes dirty and gray, that you are forced to wear boots and gloves, that simply walking become hazardous. And it's interesting to me how people who are resigned to living in these areas don't mind that it starts getting dark at 3:30, and that most days are solid gray, and that these temps are bullshit. I don't even have a shovel, so I'm at the mercy of my landlord to dig out my car when we get a lot of inches. I actually don't think we'll be getting all that much for this storm, but I did venture out earlier and the store parking lots were PACKED.

But I got a small roast and made it last night and I have lots left over, plus edamame, plus pineapple. A new bag of cat food, and various things I could do to keep myself entertained.

I need to make a plan to be out of here by the time next winter rolls around. Ok? Ok.

---------------------------------------------

"Lit", by Mary Karr, was a revelation. Though I didn't relate to her religious/spiritual evolution, or her substance abuse issues, this book got into me. There's much to be said about being consciously thankful when there's seemingly nothing to be thankful for. There were several odd connections, like the fact that she had planned to commit suicide in my town, and that she briefly dated David Foster Wallace, another writer close to my heart. Also, it seems somehow appropriate that the book jacket is made of the softest paper I've ever felt. Almost satin-y. The contents are tough, it's not a pretty picture, but the cover is a tactile comfort.

http://www.amazon.com/Lit-Memoir-Mary-Karr/dp/0060596988

"By the time she asks, Did you have a plan?, I've already told so many strangers, I forget to be embarrassed. I was going to spirit away our rusting car to a town called, metaphorically enough, Marblehead - the very name seemed apt - like I have a big, swirly marble on my shoulders where a human face should sit. There I'd suck off a garden hose purchased for that purpose." (p 271)

"Yet when Mother calls to report a heart attack coming on, my sister grabs her bag and dashes out of the house, floorboarding her Batmobile down to the sagging corner of earth sliding toward the Gulf, only to find Mother affably awaiting her, palpitations miraculously improved. No, they needn't visit a doctor, but that place on the corner has the best enchiladas and virgin margaritas." (p. 372)

"When you've been hurt enough as a kid (maybe at any age), it's like you have a trick knee. Most of your life, you can function like an adult, but add in the right portions of sleeplessness and stress and grief, and the hurt, defeated self can bloom into place." (p. 379)

what happens when the dogs are gone

A buncha stuff going on, but as usual, I'm severely lacking in the ability to convey it, so every time I consider writing, I stop myself. But I chanced upon a thought last night, as I was trying to stop thinking about something else...

I've been thinking about kids a lot lately. Not the usual regretting-never-having-them thing that all women are expected to feel (though I'm sure there's a bit of that in there) -

and may I just digress and say that I am not happy with Dan Savage saying in a recent podcast (or maybe it was online, I can't remember), in response to a woman who said she's fine not having kids and likes just having her husband and dogs, that in the end, the dogs will die, and she'll be alone with noone to take care of her. I guess I never expected Dan to wade into those judgmental and cliche waters. But he did -

- but about how, without my own kids, there's always a serious trepidation and fear on my part around other people's kids that I will do something that (in their eyes) is wrong. Not that I ever have but for this one incident, but this one incident has stuck with me, has shaped me, and maybe even influenced my not having any of my own. I was in my 20s and I was a nanny for two kids of affluent parents. The kids weren't little kids, but maybe 10 and 12 or something, a boy and a girl. We got along great. They were smart kids who liked me, and I liked them. I had to pick them up at school each day and walk them home. So, I was doing that one day, we're all walking home together, and a car drives up. The kids are excited. There are friends of theirs in the car, kids that they obviously know. The mom asks if (my charges) can come over to hang out with her kids. I agree, and before I can ask the mom's name, or when they'll be back, the car is gone. I go back to the house and wait for them to come home. But they don't. Eventually the parents come home, and I tell them that the kids are with some of their friends. But I don't know which friends. As you might suspect, this does not go over well. They commence frantic calling of kids' friends. They can't find them. And this was before everyone had a cell phone. Sometime around 8pm (8pm, on a weeknight), the parents who had them bring them back. There was no call from them prior to the dropoff, no asking if the kids could stay for dinner, nor had they made a time with me earlier in the afternoon to return the kids. And they apparently weren't very concerned about doing so.

The next morning, I get a call from the parents letting me know that I'm fired. That I've been irresponsible, and can no longer be trusted with their children. I hang up the phone and cry for a long time. My boyfriend consoles me. There won't even be a goodbye. I feel horrible, but I'm also angry at the other parents, who zoomed away without giving me any of their info, and then kept those kids until 8pm without a word to their parents. I was also angry at my (former) employers, who apparently had no issue with their kids' friends, and laid it all on me, because there needed to be a bad guy.

And that's sort of how it goes. Parents are imbued, by other parents, with wisdom and a kindliness and responsibility that those of us without kids are assumed to not have. We're just not considered trustworthy, because we just don't know. We don't have our own children. We're incomplete. We're considered "selfish", not grown up, maybe dangerous. So though I like kids, and I think (I know) I'm good with them, I'm always scared about doing the "wrong" thing like that one "wrong" thing I did so many years ago.

That's one thing I can say I feel would be nice to experience: having your own kids that you can be completely comfortable with, and you know that mistakes will be made and they'll still grow up ok, and noone will scold you for the parenting transgressions that all parents make, because hey, we all make mistakes, right? Parents are allowed to - and are expected to - make mistakes with their own kids. But non-parents are not afforded the same with other peoples' kids. And that hurts. It would be nice to have a child I could just have fun with, and educate and entertain and raise up as I wished, without that mortal fear. But instead, there's the wall, because any kids I'm around are not my kids, and even though I have friends who tell me that I'm the only person (or one of only a few) they'd trust with their children, I still have to be on my guard, still have to be scared, because these aren't mine, and I have to keep in mind that parents know (though they'd never say it to me) that I'm not complete because of my childlessness. And because, many years ago, a boy and a girl I really cared for disappeared into their friends' car, and I never saw them again.

coupledom

*sigh*

"Professionally, I'm coasting: I have a job that demands plenty but does not push me much.

More personally, my life is fairly dull. I've managed to live in (this area) for a couple years without really establishing any meaningful friendships."

Woo, now that's sexy. Way to sell yourself. Can't wait to meet you.

impaired

There's been a ridiculous amount of press about this woman who fell on the train tracks in Boston, right when a train was coming, and it stopped right over her thanks to a lot of wildly waving people on the platform and a train operator who was paying attention. It's an exciting, feel-good story, right? Noone was hurt, strangers helped strangers, and the train operator got a commendation. And multiple security cameras caught the action from several different angles.

But I have a BIG problem with this story. Though it's been mentioned that this woman was drinking, it's mentioned as an aside. I mean, check out this story. First of all, this isn't in the written story, but if you watch any of the videos, you'll see that she's smoking on the platform. That's illegal. Even if it weren't, it takes a certain amount of selfishness and self-absorption to not realize that you're in an enclosed underground tunnel with a lot of other people, and you're now subjecting them to your smoke. And there's a reason that she may have been more willing to inconvenience others, and that reason is that she had come from doing some pretty serious drinking. The article mentions that she had had 4 22-oz beers. That's a LOT of liquid. That's more than 4 bottles of coke. A regular single-serving carbonated beverage bottle is 20 oz. She had 4 of these, and then some. Let's say I was at dinner with you, and I ordered 4 drinks this large, 4 cokes, say. You would certainly think I was very thirsty, you might wonder about my sugar (or artificial sweetener) intake. Even over a longer period of time, that's a lot of liquid.

Even in a party situation, that's a lot of drink for an average-sized woman. There's only one reason to drink that much alcohol, and that's if you're intending to get drunk. As a teetotaler, I realize that my perception is different from others, from drinkers'. Of course, she has the right to drink with intent to get drunk. After all, she wasn't driving, she was taking public transportation. But your actions as a drunk person radiate outward from you and have consequences, and they may ultimately be benign or they may be disastrous, but they are certainly different than when you are sober. They are less controlled, there's an element of risk because you are, whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, impaired. Which is why she says she didn't think she was drunk, and she "felt fine" walking to the train. Yeah, I'm sure she felt fine. Noone who's drunk ever thinks they're impaired. There's this odd belief that you can be buzzed and still be in complete control. That's called rationalization. They may realize they're drunk, but they rarely consider themselves impaired, especially if they don't intend to drive, the one thing that drinkers are strongly warned away from doing. We have a cavalier attitude towards drinking in this country. We think that if we launch a "don't drive drunk" campaign, or that if we don't drive drunk, that's all that needs to be done.

I'm not advocating that people not drink, or even not drink to excess (if that's your thing - yawn), and I'm not sure what the answer is. But this woman's impairment could have killed her, and ruined many other lives. If the platform had been empty or if the other passengers hadn't been paying attention, the outcome would have been much different. Imagine how the train operator would have felt if the train stopped a few feet further and seriously injured or killed her? That would be something that young train operator (about the same age as the drunk woman) would have carried around for the rest of her life. Not to mention all the other people on the platform who would be left to re-live that horrible scene over and over. And her family, friends, etc.

I highly doubt that this was this woman's first time being drunk. If you choose to drink to excess, I think it should be your responsibility to, when you become an active ongoing drinker, learn your own limitations, know your impairment levels, have a sober friend available to assess you, but maybe making the assumption that all you have to do in advance is decide to take public transit isn't enough. There are too many other moving parts and variables that could equal a disastrous outcome, because you're not in control of your faculties, even if you think you're "fine". And when you choose to interact with the outside world (and massive, fast-moving pieces of machinery, even if you're not driving them) while impaired, perhaps some more pre-planning is necessary. Drunk people are selfish in that state; the time to think about how your drunkenness might affect others is BEFORE you start drinking, every time you drink to get drunk, or think you might. There's a interesting "out of sight, out of mind" component to this behavior. The belief that if you don't know that you're impaired, you're not (she didn't think she was drunk), and that it's all systems go until after there are negative consequences. Frankly, I'm not moved that she feels "humiliated" after the fact. Four 22-oz beers are GOING to impair you. She should have planned accordingly. She didn't. She's very lucky. But the other people there that night, the ones that saved her life, are luckier.

conversation

I would really really like to talk to someone right now who knows the music business, who is compassionate and business savvy and a good listener and can talk to me without imposing their own biases (at least somewhat). And right now, I can't think of who that person would be. But I need a sounding board...

Facebook

So...Facebook. An interesting tool. I'm fascinated by how people use it. There are people who pop in occasionally only to self-righteously declare that they don't check in that often because they "have a life". To which I say, why bother even saying that? I know some who are wildly inappropriate there, posting detailed information about everything from the restraining orders they have out on their exes, and way too much about their inflammatory bowel disease. Some look for attention; some use it for professional publicity; many use it solely to brag.

I use it this way: I don't friend anyone that I either 1.) don't know personally, and/or 2.) is or may become a good professional contact. Even with those parameters, I've managed to rack up over 600 "friends". I know people who accept everyone who sends a request. I don't. I get not-infrequent friend requests from people I have no actual connection to, but we may have some people in common. I "ignore" those requests. I am not overly personal there, and I am careful about what I do say.

It's interesting how my perception of people in real-life is affected by what I see them do on Facebook, sometimes. My most famous friend, who is one of my heroes, is lately really annoying me, as his posts seem radically right wing (though he says he's a Libertarian), trashing everything Obama does with vitriol, and talking about how much he loves Glen Beck, and there's a little too much repeat self-deprecation that isn't - eg, calling himself "carny trash" over and over, as a sort of self term of endearment). Some people have consistently boring posts: unless there's some reason it's of interest, I don't need to know what you're watching on TV at the moment, or eating for lunch. I also don't care about how your fantasy football teams are doing, and in fact, wish there was some sort of filter that would allow me to weed out all sports-related content.

There BA, the religious nut that I met recently and added mostly to read and be amused by her religious-nutty posts. Today she said: "the more i study the book of Ezekiel the more i think we really are living in the end times...onward." She also recently posted that she'd seen a "demon" in her sleep, and it was haunting her. Fascinating that things that we might otherwise call psychosis are deemed a-ok when wrapped up in religion. But I wish her well with her demons and ends of days. Hope she eats all the fattening things she wants, and has a lot of sex (or whatever one does at one's end of days).

I block or delete people who are annoying, like the guy whose statuses consisted solely of bragging about his multiple, daily workouts. HIDE! Or the people who play games that take up valuable screen space with dumb cartoon graphics. HIDE!

I've had two people that are actual friends de-friend me on FB. One was a friend who de-friended me after I failed to say happy birthday on his "wall" (I'm serious). When I emailed him about this, he said that I just wasn't "there for him" enough. He's someone who has picked fights with me for years, and our friendship has consisted of a lot of me apologizing and coddling. Talented, funny guy, but the drama was a bit much, so I'm ok not being in touch with him. We might be sometime again in the future. Then there was a guy who is a college friend who I was in touch with consistently recently, though he was daily posting incendiary right wing stuff on his wall. I never responded to that stuff until one day when I responded back to a friend of HIS (with regards health care). I was respectful, but clearly angry. I just realized a few days ago that he's de-friended me. I emailed him to ask why, and got no response. This was someone who told me several times that I was "one of (his) favorite people on the planet". This one kinda hurts. If you're going to post button-pushing content over and over, you MUST expect that you might get some response.

On the other hand, I've reconnected with so many people, and get to hear about their lives. I've made many good business contacts, and plan to use them as I launch version 2 of my harmony website. Facebook does seem to be a place where people make themselves accessible in ways they might not otherwise. I am aware of that, and do not take anyone's privacy lightly.

Some people post great, inspirational, funny, or touching content that I wouldn't otherwise have known about. Some make me jealous with their on-the-move lives. I've made friends in real life with people who were erstwhile FB online-only, or were just acquaintances. And that's cool.

Here's a sampling of what my friends are doing today:

• Ian is helping to make a stainless steel handrail (Ian is a very talented glass artist)

• My brother says: "At El Dia de los Muertos at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery"
  
  
• Ethan says about Al Franken (and I agree): "I'm kind of tempted to move to Minnesotta just so I can vote for this man. To date, this is the only senate campaign I've ever contributed to."
  
  
• Angie is at a Weezer concert right now with my nieces
  
  
• Michelle posted pictures of herself and her group doing some in-store corporate gig in Indianapolis, standing atop a cosmetics display
  
  
• someone posted pictures of Dave, who recently had a traditional Indian wedding, where he rode in on a white horse in a beautiful white outfit, complete with sword!
  
  
• Sally wrote on my wall to thank me for coming to her/their show in NH last night. In fact, she gave us 2nd row seats in a huge theater, so it's I who must thank her (and I did!)

This entry has been all over the place, but that seems somehow appropriate. So I'll leave it here. For now.

overheard

Disaffected young woman, getting out of car: Where are we?
Enthusiastic young man, getting out of same car: Salem!
Disaffected young woman: What are we gonna do here?
Enthusiastic young man: Walk around! Haunted Happenings!!
Disaffected young woman: ---

Looks like it's going to be an exciting day in Witch City, folks. I myself was just there to get cat food. That's how I roll.

they're not THAT big

I went to visit A + G in upstate NY, which is always so nice. Just a little respite from...everything else. And the reason I don't have much to say that's positive. Anyways, A and I were shopping and she stopped by a bra in the lingerie section and the conversation went like this:

A: "Look at this bra cup! It's huge! I could wear it as a hat!"
(pause)
me: "Hey, that's my size!"
both: "Ha ha ha!"

So, if you ever need a hat, let me know.

the un-golden child (the bronze child?)

Several stories I could tell here, but we'll just go with this:

I had a realization, or thought, the other day. That it really feels to me that I failed at childhood, and that cast the die for the rest of my life thus far. Oh, I know what triggered this: my oldest niece, who is 14, is dating an 11th grader. My younger niece is also wildly popular. They are both having a great time. Not without teen angst, but pretty damn good all around. No torture from other kids, no ostracizing. I, on the other hand, never had a date until college. As I've mentioned before, it would have been considered a joke to ask me out. I was just thought of as asexual and ugly, and by just about everyone (I'm saying "just about" to put a positive spin on it; I actually don't know of anyone who thought of me as anything other than ugly). And if there was anyone who might have asked me out, peer pressure probably kept them from doing it, because noone would have been seen with me. I'm not sure why I was considered such a monster, but I apparently was. My horrendous hair that noone knew how to deal with was a large part of that. It WAS hideous, because noone, including me, knew how to take care of it, and stylists only knew (and most are still like this) how to style STRAIGHT hair, aka good hair. Mine wasn't good. Technically, it still isn't. I've just learned how to wrangle it into submission. So whereas kids today can sort of ironically or quirkily rock the Jew-fro (which makes me so happy they don't have to go through what I did), it was nothing but a source of ridicule for me. My siblings, however, were blessed with straight lovely hair, and dark lovely skin that tanned.

I don't ever remember a time of feeling carefree and childlike. Of having FUN. I remember feeling emotionally burdened from as far back as I can remember. I hated (and still do) crowds, I feared getting lost and left behind (and a few times I was). I was treated brutally by my peers for being shy (and apparently making people uncomfortable because of it), for not being happy/transparent. I wrote sad little songs. I remember being on a vacation and asking my parents if I was using the word "strife" correctly because I was writing it into a song (I was). In my memory, they never seemed concerned that I was so sad. In fact, the overall feeling I can conjure up is disappointment, like they had tried and they DID care about me, but that they just didn't understand why their first-born couldn't be happier like their second-born (and later their utterly charming third-born), who was so outgoing and smiley and delightful. Like it just went wrong with me, but they made up for it with my sister. Like they wished that I'd snap out of with the help of therapists, and when I didn't, they sort of threw their hands up. I wish I could have been a better, more-like-my-sister daughter, one who reached the goals that other kids reach (dates, proms, successes). I wish I could have better for them. And now I'm adult facing the same disappointments, having missed many of the adult markers I was supposed to hit. And feeling just as sad.

I was also thinking about Ben, who was in my band. This is a kid who NEVER has seen failure, in any form. Anything he tried and tries, he succeeds at wildly. Any skill he wanted to acquire as a kid, he immediately picked up (and never forgot), and that continues to the present. You wanna go to Harvard? No problem! You wanna go to Stanford Law? No problem! You wanna play 5 instruments really well? Just give it a try! He and his siblings breezed into everything they wanted, which is not to say that they didn't and don't deserve it, OR that they didn't put in effort. I'm sure they did. But that wave of success that they started riding when very young is self-perpetuating, and at some point, they just assumed they'd win at everything, and they continue to. And my experience was the opposite. How I got into as good a college as I did, I'll never know. It was a fluke, and the result of an admissions counselor who saw something beyond my mediocre grades. I thank that person. And I don't think that knowing NO failure always serves one well, because I know from dealing with Ben that he's missing some fairly crucial compassion skills. He has a hard time empathizing because everything's always been focused on him, the golden child.

Malcolm Gladwell talks about how luck plays into success in his book Outliers. He gives examples of people who grow up with matching skills and abilities, but very different settings and trajectories. And those with the disadvantages (and these are often more complex than the financial) fizzled out where others soar. I can take all the responsibility I want for where I am (and I emotionally flog myself every day, so don't worry about that), but my environment and upbringing and biochemistry make the wall I have to climb exponentially higher.

And I was talking to my friend V (who is black) about how annoyed he gets when (white people) say, "We ALL have struggles. My struggles are just like your struggles as a black person", thereby not only comparing apples to oranges, but dismissing wholly that racism is still alive and functioning. Similar for me. When I mention my situation, I can FEEL that people want to say (if they don't just say it outright), "Growing up is hard. We all had it rough. Now suck it up." But reversing the wave that started for me years ago is pretty daunting. I'm searching - I'm REALLY searching - for the way out, but the wall feels so so high.

[picture: proof that I actually did sometimes smile as a child. That's me on the right, sitting my mom's lap, my sister on my grandmother and our grandfather.]

I hate the Slowskys (because they hate each other)

I really don't like the Comcast commercials with the "Slowskys", the turtle couple that are always looking for the slowest internet possible, since they're, ya know, turtles. And Comcast is fast (so they say - I have Comcast internet and it's not so fast), so they don't want that. It's not that I have anything against animatronic turtles, per se, it's that these turtles HATE EACH OTHER. They're a couple and all they do is fight. Marital rancor as comedy is not new, and I guess there are times and situations where it CAN be funny, but mostly it's just what it is. Tension, disrespect, stereotypes. If they're not bitching at each other (check out "why don't you like FUN?" in the ad below), they're bitching at other characters. I just find them unpleasant, so I never get to what Comcast is trying to sell me, because I'm so distracted by the unpleasantness. It just rubs me the wrong way, whereas I'm guessing lots of people just find it cute. After all, they keep making ads with these characters, and they even have their own website (of course).

asking to be loved

I envisioned this being an open letter to men, but since I'm not sure if any men are reading this (Emmett?), I'll make it an open letter to me, about men. Any input is appreciated, of course. I'd love for someone to say something to me that offers a bit of hope, because I'm feeling pretty hopeless.

After my last...encounter with a guy (a few weeks ago), I had a revelation. And it's not a good one. It's just another on the slow slide to complete disillusionment, if I'm honest. I realized that men, until they make an actual commitment to (a woman) - meaning that they commit to marriage, or a child's on the way, or you move in together - that they are more than willing to treat you like absolute shit. That there is no courtesy, there is no kindness, there is no empathy. None of that seems to kick in unless they've made one of those big C Commitments, or they're actively trying to sleep with you. Otherwise, all bets are off. They are happy to lie, they are happy to create a story that allows them to blow you off completely, they put it all in a nice little box and file you away. For good.

I should say that this last guy was not meant to be a serious relationship. If anything, it was sort of set up to be a fuck buddy situation. We met once, it was fun, HE said he really wanted to get together again. I am very cautious. I am so cowed by how men weave this "crazy woman" fantasy and use it to their advantage, that I am very careful and let THEM tell me how things are going. And he said he wanted to get together (very definitively), and only then did I say that I did too. Then he said it again via email, and asked what my schedule was like for the next week. I responded and got no answer. I called and left a message with my availability. No response. I made it clear that if he didn't want to see me again, that was fine. I would not react negatively, but please let me know.

He never responded again.

A perfect example of no courtesy, no kindness, no empathy. I had given him an OUT. I said it would be ok if he didn't want to get together again. That I'd like to, so let me know. And even with that, he couldn't MAN UP and just tell me that - what? - he changed his mind? He's married? He met someone else? I don't frankly care. Just tell me. Not all women, and I'd suggest in fact that very few women, will fall apart at this kind of news. Yet men use it as an excuse to not do the right thing, to avoid and ignore, to be MEAN.

I'm not pining for this guy because I only saw him once and didn't feel any overwhelming connection or attraction, though we did accomplish what we set out to accomplish. But I am pining for someone to make that commitment to me such that they answer my (infrequent) calls, they want to see me, and I don't feel I'm being avoided because I AM being avoided. I don't demand much of anyone. I don't demand daily calls or visits, or money, or a ring or a child. And yet I am treated like crap again and again. Fits and starts and then it's over.

The guy who sent me his photos and we've had ongoing interactions - my colleague of sorts - he was going to be NY for a while and we talked about getting together. He seemed interested at first but then found all sorts of excuses why it couldn't happen. So it didn't. I'm not sure if he sent those photos because he just wanted to show off, because it doesn't feel anymore like he has any interest in ME, per se. I'm not sure it ever did. We're both going to be teaching at an event in NC in Nov and I even suggested we share a room. He turned me down on that. I talked to the president of this organization (who knows nothing of this, and noone else in the organization does either, and that's how it will stay) because we're trying to figure out my lodging for this event and I told her I'd asked (the guy) if he wanted a roommate, and she said she heard he likes to have a room to himself at these events so he can hook up with girls. I mentioned to her that I WAS one, and she seemed kinda taken aback. I think she just thinks of me as a lumpy, ugly old lady. I don't think that SHE would even consider him (hooking up) with me, and I think HE would be embarrassed if any of our colleagues knew about us talking so intimately, or - GASP - if they saw us together at an event. I'm sure he envisions himself with the college girls that will be there, and not with me. Dammit, when did I slide to the bottom of the list of desirable women?

I am so sad, and lonely. I ask for so little, and get nothing in return. Then again, ultimately, I'm asking to be loved (and to love), and maybe I just am not lovable. But I wish that men would stop proving themselves to be every negative stereotype that they get slapped with. I wish they were just silly misnomers. But they keep proving themselves true. And that is devastating. Even my therapist said, "Yes, men have SERIOUS issues with communication." Well, that's just great. It's a forever excuse. They'll never have to change, until they make that commitment, such that treating their woman like ASS means that she doesn't stick around. Only when there are stakes for them do they start acting kindly.

my mini

It's my Nike+ mini, the animated me that's supposed to inspire me to work out more. I made her in my image! And I will say that the Nike+ system (a transmitter in the shoe itself connects to a receiver on your iPod) is really cool, but only works when walking or running, or something else where your foot is hitting the ground. It doesn't work with the elliptical or things like that.

Your workout details all get uploaded to the above website and you can keep track of distances, calories burned, routes, playlists, etc. I keep the specs of my workouts private, though you can make it all public if you want. Anything that smells even slightly like competition is something I want to keep away from, even if it's just "competing" with other peoples' workouts online.

I just wanted to post my mini. 'Cause she's cute. Nothing more to say about it.

Toddlers & Tiaras

I'm not exactly sure what led me to add "Toddlers & Tiaras" to my TiVo list. Generally, I can't tolerate the real lowest common denominator reality shows, and the whole kids' pageants thing creeps me out. But I guess it comes under the morbid-fascination-but-not-completely-depraved category, a category I'm often compelled to watch. And it does certainly affirm all of my fears about such events. The overbearing mothers, the ridiculous costumes, the pointlessness. They even have their own language ("high glitz", anyone?).

Of course it's really all about the mothers, the regretful, projecting mothers, and they stand out in the crowd when their girls perform, and they pantomime the movements the girl is supposed to do. The girls often aren't even rehearsed/talented/old enough to perform on their own. So they're just watching the mom out in the crowd, and copying her. Sometimes they cry, sometimes they freeze, and sometimes they are perfect, meaning they've mastered that stylized type of scary-phony that wins crowns. The mothers are often overweight and slovenly, and clearly living through their kids, some of whom start "competing" (which consists of bringing the baby onstage and showing it off) when they are DAYS OLD. No kidding. Stay home and bond with your new baby, dammit. What the fuck are you doing??

The spray tans, the fake teeth, the fake hair, the coachs, and the costumes. Oh, the costumes. I think the thing that fascinates me the most is that these women (and by default, their kids) are usually, as I say above, sloppy and big. They are the furthest thing from glamorous you can imagine. None of these women have any actual style. And yet, they spend thousands upon thousands for custom-made costumes and gowns for these little girls. And they're absurd, these costumes. Festooned with ridiculous amounts of sequins and sparkly things, they also have nothing to do with style or fashion or even attractiveness. They, like the whole pageant scene, like ballroom dancing, are so inbred and insular, that though they would never be considered anything but horrible in the outside world, at a pageant they're what's worn. What they all wear. The dresses look like this, and they're all (custom)-made to conform to EACH OTHER. They're like ballerina tutus in a fever dream or a David Lynch movie.

So, these completely unstylish women are forcing (or supporting) their kids to be part of this garish spectacle that is somehow related to beauty, but also has nothing to do with beauty, or style.

Then at some point, they get up and dance in these "theme" costumes, and that's where things get really fetish-y and creepy, as these costumes are the ones that really seem like a pedophile's dream. Naughty cops, feathery showgirls, sexualized cowgirls...this is where it all veers into semi-abusive to me.

I am also struck by what a waste of time (and money) all of this is. When it comes down to it, these girls (and some boys) aren't learning anything useful, like a kid taking piano lessons, or soccer, or acting lessons, or horseback riding lessons. There's going to be little to no takeaway for them in their adult lives, except that they'll have learned to move and act and react in that inbred/creepy pageant way that could pave the way for them being in adult pageants. That is if it turns out they actually grow up to be, in fact, beautiful, which many don't. All children have some inherent beauty, so with enough makeup and fake teeth and hair, almost any child can be pageant-appropriate, whereas not all adults can. Adults come in many shapes and sizes (very few of them considered "ideal"), but kids are less diverse in that way. Maybe some of them will go on to be TV news anchor-chicks, like so many former pageant girls do, but there's not much gain other than that.

Oh, the mothers would tell you that the girls gain "confidence", but that's bullshit. They learn early and hard that they will be judged by their looks, and that is anything but confidence-building.

today in noise pollution

1. 2 yards' landscaping services do the team-sweep, to enormous decibel levels
   
   
2. landlord talking full voice on porch RIGHT OFF OF MY BEDROOM to contractor about something that's coming up, and will undoubtedly create more noise*
   
   
3. neighbor/friend's dog barking non-stop for half an hour
   
   
4. some far-off construction making low-level buzzing noises that shake the neighborhood

And it's only 10:20. Sometimes I get really tired of working at home, because for a supposedly "quiet" neighborhood, it's really loud here when the windows are open. At night, it's blissfully silent, but during the day, with the constant lawn-primping, the unending traffic on my corner, the barking dogs, and the construction, it's a bit maddening. Maybe I should go to the library and use their wi-fi, but the last time I did that, the minute I sat down, they started mowing the lawn with the LARGEST RIDING MOWER I'D EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE right outside where I was sitting. I'm not kidding - I took a picture of it. It was uncanny, hilarious, annoying.

I know I'm noise-sensitive and mostly I appreciate my super hearing, but lately it's getting ridiculous. Which brings me to *the construction on this house. It started months ago in the winter. My landlord and his girlfriend are apparently doing it all themselves, and he "never sleeps", so it will go until 1-2 in the morning, and start up again at 8 or 9. And the walls here are PAPER-thin (not good when having - ahem - guests over), so they were doing much of it next to or below my bedroom, which sounded like it was IN my bedroom. Then there's the power-sawing, the hammering, the moving of heavy equipment or furniture, or whatever they're moving. The construction moved outside this summer, with the rebuilding of the porch right off of my bedroom, which means that not only is the noise near-constant, but I have to keep my shades drawn almost all the time. Oh, and have I mentioned that everything is covered in sawdust and I have to keep cleaning it off? Yes, it floats in here and coats everything.

I'm also aware that most of this wouldn't even phase most people, with the exception of the construction going at 1am. At least I'm generally awake then. Eventually I did tell him that I needed the noise to stop past say, midnight, and he complied.

And the thing is, I love having the windows open, and dread having to close them, because closing them means it's cold, winter's coming, winter's here, the heat bills will soar, and...cold and gray and miserable. Ug. I have a little panic attack each time I think about the leaves changing, about the leaves falling and the trees bare and stick-y, and snow - disgusting, horrible snow. How do I get out of here? I really feel like I'm supposed to be somewhere else.

EDIT: 11:25am - third lawn primping!

EDIT: 1:30pm - fourth lawn primping, now with added shrubbery saws!

EDIT: 5pm: the hammering and power-sawing has begun for the evening. Cats startled. You'd think they'd be used to it by now...

A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again

I finished "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again", David Foster Wallace's collection of "essays and arguments", re-prints of articles he wrote for other publications before his death last year, a suicide. Though some of this material is decidedly dense and difficult, the rewards are great. I especially recommend the last piece, the titular piece, which was published in Harper's in 1996, originally titled "Shipping Out". He was sent, by the magazine, on a "luxury" Caribbean cruise, and this is his in-depth account of that trip. It is in turns hilarious, endearing, full of despair, and beautiful. His experience definitely jibes with my own (one, and I suspect, only: once is enough) Caribbean cruise experience, especially with regards relentlessly manufactured "fun", and the disparity between what's promised and what's delivered, though not in the ways you might be suspecting. I think I relate too much to how his depression affects every minute of every day, and even the "supposedly fun" things that one is supposed to come back from, gushing about how amazing and transformative it was, when in fact much of it elicited despair.

I believe it's in its entirety here (http://harpers.org/media/pdf/dfw/HarpersMagazine-1996-01-0007859.pdf), and it's long, so if you're used to reading sound-byte-y length things online, print this out and read it (or get the book!), because if you only read part of it online and then abandon it because of the nature of online reading, you'll be missing out on something truly impressive and moving.

Get the book.

"... advertisement that pretends to be art is, at absolute best, like somebody who smiles warmly at you only because he wants something from you. This is dishonest, but what's sinister is the cumulative effect that such dishonesty has on us: since it offers a perfect facsimile or simulacrum of goodwill without goodwill's real spirit, it messes with our heads and eventually starts upping our defenses even in cases of genuine smiles and real art and true goodwill. It makes us feel confused and lonely and impotent and angry and scared. It causes despair.[Note 1]

Note 1: This is related to the phenomenon of the Professional Smile, a national pandemic in the service industry; and no place in my experience have I been on the receiving end of as many Professional Smiles as I am on the Nadir: maitre d's, Chief Stewards, Hotel Managers' minions, Cruise Director -- their PS's all come on like switches at my approach. But also back at land at banks, restaurants, airline ticket counters, on and on. You know this smile: the strenuous contraction of circumoral fascia with incomplete zygomatic involvement, the smile that doesn't quite reach the smiler's eyes and that signifies nothing more than a calculated attempt to advance the smiler's own interests by pretending to like the smilee. Why do employers and supervisors force professional service people to broadcast the Professional Smile? Am I the only consumer in whom high doses of such a smile produce despair?

Who do they think is fooled by the Professional Smile?

And yet the Professional Smile's absence now also causes despair. Anybody who has ever bought a pack of gum at a Manhattan cigar store or asked for something to be stamped FRAGILE at a Chicago post office or tried to obtain a glass of water from a South Boston waitress knows well the soul-crushing effect of a service workers scowl, ie. the humiliation and resentment of being denied the Professional Smile. And the Professional Smile has by now skewed even my resentment at the dreaded Professional Scowl: I walk away from the Manhattan tobacconist resenting not the counterman's character or absence of good will but his lack of professionalism in denying me the Smile. What a fucking mess."

oh, Ed.

Starting at age 5, I did a lot of theatre. Constantly, outside of my school (because we had no theatre program at my school, and I hated it there anyways), all the way through college, when music performance took over, mostly. When I was 12, I was in a production of "Fiddler On The Roof" as one of the younger daughters. Another guy in the cast - I can't remember which part he played - was 24, a baker, and a nice guy. He was very attentive to me. He'd bring me cakes. Truth be told, it (the attention) made me a little uncomfortable, but not too much, because my mother was also in the cast, and she was also friends with him. She's savvy and smart and I knew that if anything were amiss, she'd know it. When that show ended, I cried for probably a week straight. I would sit on the bus and cry. (Being in shows) was pretty much the only place where I felt at home, but they were hard to get into. This was a community theatre, but a really good one, and parts were hard to come by.

Anyways, this guy - his name is Ed - had cerebral palsy. When I first met him, he was walking, with a limp, and that was the only discernible effect of the disease. But as the years went on, he left Ohio and moved to NYC, and the disease progressed. Soon he was in a wheelchair. But he was determined to make a living as an actor, and to escape the rusted-steel shackles of our town, where most people leave, only to come back with their tails between their legs. I saw many many actors with stars in their eyes trek off to NYC...and then return. I knew that when I left, returning wasn't an option, and it wasn't an option for Ed. Through determination and talent, he made it happen, despite his disability. He did a lot TV work, on shows like "Law and Order" and lots of movies, like "Born on the Fourth of July" and "A Beautiful Mind", and in fact, whenever Ron Howard shot in NYC, he hired Ed. And Ed became a staunch advocate for disabled actors, rallying the movie and TV industry to hire actors with disabilities instead of able-bodied actors to portray a disabled person. He had several different wheelchairs for different eras. He was also instrumental in getting the city of New York to provide free cab rides to those in wheelchairs. All in all, he did good, he escaped the black hole of our home city, and he made a difference.

And all this time, we've kept in touch, seen each other occasionally, etc. And still that little bit of discomfort persisted. He's grabby and too complimentary, but I'm an adult, and I can take care of myself.

Yesterday was his birthday, and I sent him an email, which bounced right back to me. I had also been listening to one of my favorite podcasts, which is a disability podcast from the BBC, hosted by a man and woman I absolutely adore. They'd been talking about disabled actors on that very day, and I thought it might be cool to get them in touch with Ed. But once his email bounced back, I Googled him. What I found were a few articles about how, in 2007, he was charged and convicted of possession of child pornography, and sharing it with others on the internet. It says nothing about molestation or anything like that. But he sentenced to 44 MONTHS in prison. If he's serving the full sentence, he's almost halfway through it now. But I don't have that info. I do know that his health wasn't good when we last talked, and I imagine that the harsh conditions of a prison would probably exacerbate things. But I don't have any more info other than those few articles, and his dead email address. And this info WAS ON HIS IMDB PAGE. Can one recover from such a thing? It's likely his hard-won career is over.

I have no philosophical ending here. I've just been thinking about disappointments lately. How others disappoint, how I disappoint myself (which I do quite often), and how we rectify those, or ignore them, or spit-shine them into something else. I don't feel particularly judgmental of Ed, because I don't know his situation and because I know that our legal system can get prison-happy when it comes to things like child porn, so it's possible (probable, even) that he never touched an actual child, but had this admittedly aberrant drive. I'm fairly sure that the discomfort I felt with him when I was a child was that desire of his, but he never did anything that I'd call out of line, though definitely on the border of it. Mostly I just feel sad. About him, and about it all.

tidbits

Item #1:
I have been saddened and infuriated at the vitriol spewed upon Senator Kennedy's death. I've heard a lot of conservatives say "I didn't agree with his policies", but they never say exactly WHAT they disagree with. Seems they just wish to disagree, just like they now like to yell the word "socialism", no matter how incorrectly they're using it. I'd posit that most of them are talking out of their asses and have no clue what he stood for, what he did, etc. They have visions of Mary Jo Kopechne dancing in their heads, and that's the cross they want to hang him on, despite the fact that many of them, no doubt, consider themselves "good Christians" and are supposed to be all about "forgiveness". In fact, according to them, ANY sin can be forgiven if you just accept Jebus Christ as your savior, even with just your last breath. That's convenient. Cancer research, Head Start, employment for the disabled, fair housing...the list of Kennedy's accomplishments is extensive. He could have lived out the past DECADES doing nothing but sailing, but he truly was an advocate for the voiceless, for the common man. That conservatives can't even honor or acknowledge that shows the astounding hypocrisy of their shaky platforms. Do I sound angry? Yes, I'm angry.

Item #2:
I'm supposed to meet someone tonight that I'm nervous about meeting. Honestly, I don't know how (certain guys I know) do this. Men have that impressive ability to compartmentalize and disassociate and just go in and get 'er done. I have to think at least a little about the safety factor, and I do, but I don't worry too much about it. I think my instincts are pretty good. But it's wearying. I just wish that I had someone who was there permanently, or someone that I already knew well. Getting to know someone for potential romantic/sexual purposes is just tiring now. The past 2 months or so have been filled with ongoing flirtations with a bunch of guys, all but one (this guy I'm meeting tonight) I already know, and most of whom aren't geographically near me.

Item #3:
I have moths. Those little cabinet moths that hang out in food. What are they called? Indian meal moths. Gross. Last night after finally killing one that was flying around the living room for hours, and also in light of item #4, I cleaned out all my kitchen cabinets and threw out a ton of stuff. Most everything was already stored in bags (to ostensibly keep them at bay), but I did find one box of crackers that was all moth-y and several hanging out in the cupboards. They are insidious and horrible. I have a feeling the fight's not yet over, despite Rocco's help via the occasional catch-and-eat.

Item #4:
A textile conservator friend gave me this rug on permanent loan. I'd been wanting a rug for a while, but, of course, there's no budget for something that's actually nice or not Target-grade. This one's the real deal. Ahhh...

1 day / 2 unpleasant tests

Yesterday, I had two medical procedures I was very much dreading. Not so much because the procedures themselves promised to be horrible, but because they could lead to a vasovagal response, seizure, hours of not being able to move, a few days of recovery. Therefore, I have to approach anything like this, which to most people would be an inconvenience and perhaps slightly nerve-wracking, like I'm going into battle. I have to announce my (what feels like) aberration, make sure that anything that's done be done with me lying down, etc. I have to out myself. Over the years, I've learned to be vocal, to slow things down, and I've prevented (an episode) from occurring for the past several years. There've been some close calls, but I've stopped them all, by halting the situation in its path.

The reason for these tests? Months ago, microscopic blood had been found in my urine. My nurse practitioner sent me to a urologist, who ordered these tests. He said that this could just be my normal, but it could also be a tumor, or cancer. So best to check. The first one was the CT scan with contrast, and it was the contrast that worried me. The way it was described, it seemed like the type of thing that would almost surely send me into a seizure. Not the IV needle (needles don't bother me), but the feeling of the dye going in. The guy was very nice, and patient, and the contrast was as described. A brief, but very weird and not particularly pleasant sensation. Like little white-hot heat lamps have been lit inside you all at once. Intense heat, very odd. The feeling goes away quickly, though.

From there, onto the cystoscopy, where they put a camera in your urethra (after a topical anesthetic). Now, that's bad enough, but the very nice urologist had trouble locating mine, which led to a search situation that was simultaneously comical, slightly embarrassing, and physically uncomfortable. But it too was pretty much as sold, which was akin to a pap smear, with slightly more discomfort. Let's hope that's the last one of those I have to go through, though. Nice urologist said he saw nothing that suggested cancers or tumors, though a little calcification (!) that didn't concern him.

Now, I think, we are done with the foreseeable tests. Whew. I got through these using all of my emotional reserves, and found that I was EXHAUSTED when I got home from the loin-girding (figurative and literal) they required.

I also met with the dietitian again and I've lost some lbs.

In other news, this heat wave can end any day now. Thanks. If it's not one extreme, it's another. Think of the children!

punishment

I don't want to eat, or drink. But I have to eat SOMETHING if I'm going to exercise or I'll crash in the middle of it (that means shaking, sweating, losing consciousness, so it's not something to fool around with). And I have to exercise if I'm going to become attractive to men again. And to deal with these various physical issues which may or may not be weight-related, but probably are. And to be able to look in a mirror again and not be appalled. But mostly because I feel decidedly unwell, and since I'm supposed to blame everything on my weight, that must be the cause.

I'm dealing with some serious issues that noone knows about. Noone, because I can't tell anyone. I wish I could. I wish I could get some support or some comfort, but in this case, I just can't speak it. So I'm home, alone, with nothing to do. I feel like the only thing I can do are these little self-flagellating actions, like not turning on the fan (it's 82) and not eating and not going outside. If I can't make myself feel better, maybe I can take some comfort in feeling worse? I'm not sure there's that much logic behind it. I would like to feel something other than on-the-verge-of-tears all the time.

I have a tiny bit of paid stuff I could do (and will), some volunteer stuff I need to do, and must write a description for a master class I'm supposed to teach, and nothing musical going on. And that is crushing me. I find that I can less and less even listen to music, because I feel like music has betrayed me. I've tried so hard, and I'm left with nothing, while so many others are doing great projects, on tours, making music and making money. I've just seen group after group of mine fall apart, and noone seems interested in my skills outside of my own created groups. I know I have something that is fairly unique and I know I could put together something great, but not with people coming and leaving so quickly. I've lost all my motivation, and that's new for me. All I've done - since I got out of college - has been to hustle musically, with mixed results. Now I have nothing, and no emotional strength, and noone to buoy me. That's not entirely true - W is helping me try to process through the music stuff, but he's been busy the past few weeks, so we've not been in touch about that stuff, and that in itself is taking its toll on me. He's brilliant at this stuff (and brilliant in general), and he's a good friend, but I also don't want to push him because I know he's having his own issues. He's one of those people who has a lot of internal struggle, but most people don't know or see it, because he makes sure they don't. I admire that.

One thing I will do: take some Advil.

doing it wrong

I didn't do the wrong thing. I didn't show up, because what would I have done and said if I did? My personality profile has already been written, and it doesn't matter much that it doesn't match me, my actions, my intentions, my heart. There's no romantic ending for me. I wish my showing up somewhere could elicit apologies, revelations, righting things, softening eyes. But that's just wishful thinking, so I stayed, as I have for the past YEAR. It's been a year. And I still don't think a day goes by that I don't think of him, and want things to just be...different, and fixed. Not to be with him, but not for it to be like this. But hoping for someone to react against type - isn't that the definition of insanity?

I also didn't do the wrong thing w/V on Thurs, though given the chance, at this point, I probably would have. Or w/D last night, because I just can't do that to HER. V's situation is somewhat different, but he's still very much in a relationship he doesn't intend to quit. So I put up the pictures I took (on Facebook), and he untagged himself. And these are the areas where I think and think and agonize and then decide it will be ok...and then it apparently isn't. I always have to wonder if my show-off-y side is making bad decisions, and whereas I know people who are confessional to the point of pathology and creepiness, and I do not post anything emotional or personal there. For whatever reason, he didn't want himself seen in those photos (update: he said he didn't untag them, and to tag away - hmmm). Because they were taken in his home, and taken by me? I don't know, because he didn't say anything. He didn't ask me to take them down, but he did untag himself. Now I feel like shit. His friendship is very important to me, and at 20 years in, not something I wish to destroy with some damn photos. But clearly I don't know how to navigate through these things. I wish to think of myself of tech-savvy and possessing adequate social skills and understanding of social cues, but C destroyed that belief a year ago. Now all I do is doubt, and worry. And because there's noone who is definitively with me, I figure everyone's fair game for a sudden and permanent disappearance.

I'm less and less apt to try to keep contact with someone who disappears, and I'm more reticent to respond when a response is needed. I mean, everything is a potential pitfall, and because I'm still alone, at this age, I can only conclude that I'm here because of mistakes I've made. I'm looking at one right now, where I have no idea how to play it, and so I've just been sitting on a response.

I guess the point is that in all this not-doing-the-wrong-things, I still somehow manage to do things wrong, and still get nothing. How?

held in the arms of the sea

on an island
dry
surrounded by water
mountains and fog in front of me
out of place with a southern accent
like an awkward red headed freckled girl trembling beneath a spotlight
exposed
frightened
fearless
on an island
held in the arms of the sea

Wish I could say who wrote it (I actually do - I'm not being coy - I do like to pimp out my friends), but as usual I don't want his name linked to this blog. But man, I do love southern boys. I told him that, and he wrote this.

I'm sitting here watching Julia Child explain the different types of chickens one cooks with. I always loved her, and she just gets better with (my) age. She's the anti-Rachael Ray. Everything that's good about Julia is bad about Rachael, and vice versa. Julia talks a lot about the anatomy of the...meat she's preparing. That's something you wouldn't find today, where everything's sanitized and cleaned up when it comes to cooking shows, but it's just another day at the office when skanks spit on each other on shows like "Daisy of Love" or whatever. I don't know about you, but I'd rather hear about chicken cartilage than watch some dumbass with creepy enhanced lips and on her third boob job get drunk and start yet another predictable, extension-pulling skank-fight.

Waiting for some friends to come over that I've never met, contemplating the past few days. Wondering what to do now.

followup on date #3

Well, I replied to essentially reiterate what I'd said after date #2 (when he called me as we were literally driving away from each other, to say that he was attracted to me, and he wondered how I felt) - that I wasn't feeling attraction right now, but that I might in the future, or I might not. But that I can't tell after 3 dates. And I'd understand if he didn't want to give it more time. So he said he'd probably rather not be platonic friends, and that if we were to get involved, it'd be kind of a "long distance" relationship anyways, and that's not of interest. We live 38 miles apart. Maybe I'm the weirdo here, but I would NEVER restrict my options to some small geographic area, or just to my town. I'd pretty much move anywhere, even, for the right person. So to consider 38 miles "long distance" seems actually funny to me. To restrict yourself that way means that you must be pretty damn confident that there's someone appropriate for you in a very small geographical area. I'm just not that confident, I guess.

I will say that I'm tired of people telling me that I need to "move to a big city" if I want to find someone, esp since all the people who are saying it...DIDN'T MEET THEIR PARTNERS IN A BIG CITY. Never mind that I know single people in Manhattan and LA who can't find someone. I can't imagine it being worth my while to move to some place like Manhattan, and live in the squalor that would be my life in such an expensive place, probably with multiple roommates, or even worse, I would have to live in Hoboken or something because even the most horrible Manhattan locations wouldn't be affordable. Not that there's anything wrong with Hoboken, but living in a city as large as Manhattan - single or not - isn't that reasonable for a lot of people, esp if you wish to live in a manner that's somewhat above that of a college student. And I do.

Ditto to "why don't you try the personals?" I know it seems like a fucking panacea to all you coupled people, but it's not. It's horrible and soul-crushing (unless you're looking for a booty call, in which case it's probably damn effective). And yes, we've all tried it already, so please don't think you're offering some novel lightbulb of a suggestion. And for the 1-2 people you know who found the love of their life on the Yahoo personals, there are dozens or hundreds more who had bad experiences, or at best, lukewarm ones. So shut up. Love, -me

pix and phones and swimming

Aforementioned old friend DID call me, last night. I think we talked for hours. I've also discovered that my phone's inbox only seems to hold about 30 texts, because I've been furiously deleting things from him. In any case, may see him this coming week before he leaves again. Such a sweet guy.

And without provocation, aforementioned skinny guy, just home from a world cruise, sent me some more pics. Wow, if I had that thing attached to me, I would never leave my bed! He may be in NYC next month (he's on sabbatical out west), so...we may meet up.

I guess these are the "freedoms" that being single afford. I'd still prefer a relationship, but something is better than nothing.

I finally got myself in the pool the other day, after a lot of mental and physical prep. Though swimming is something I love almost more than anything else, it's become more anxiety-provoking in recent years, in that there's so much prep required just to get there - a decent suit that I don't feel horrified in (ok, that one's not possible right now), new goggles that keep water out, a cap that actually fits over my hair, putting in contacts, the bikini wax is essential...and then they want you to take a shower before you get into the pool? I get that it's some sort of cleanliness state law, but it's a pain in the ass. Once I'm in the water, I feel completely at home. And if I can keep timing it so that I go at less populated times, I might be able to get myself there consistently. Let's see what today's schedule says...

date #3

Date #3 was a last minute one this week. He came up here and we went to dinner, then I showed him around town, then we had a fashion show (don't ask), then he went home. There was kissing.

Yesterday, I got an email from him saying that he assumes that I'm only looking for a serious relationship, even though my profile also says (I'm up for) casual encounters. He's assuming this because we're 3 dates in and haven't had sex, and I haven't initiated. So he said that he's not feeling that he wants to jump into something serious, but hopes we can stay in touch because he really likes me.

So I replied to say that I wanted to clarify - since he was being so upfront and seems to like things DEFINED - that the reason I haven't initiated sex is because I just am not feeling that attraction now, and as I said before, attraction is a slow burn for me and not something I can force and make happen when I want it to (and I want to). And that if I were feeling it, I would have initiated or made it clear that I wanted it, but it's not because I'm holding out until I know that we're going to be in a Serious Relationship before getting physical. I haven't heard back from him. He's a really nice guy and I have to respect the fact that he wants things very defined, and wants to know NOW where things stand. But, in actuality, my priorities are 1.) sex first, then 2.) relationship. I want both, and I wish I had both right now (seriously - RIGHT NOW!), but I'd take hot sex without the relationship if I can't have both right now. It's just that...I can't make myself feel it with him. And if he wants definition now, then that's where we're at.

On the one hand, it's a bit annoying that he'd expect since we've seen each other 3 times, that sex should already be a forgone conclusion. As pro-sex and pro-pre-martial sex as I am, and as vocal as I am about my desire therein, I still think there are times when it's nice to spend a little more time getting to know each other. Because that kind of extreme familiarity, unless you're just in it for an anonymous or semi-anonymous fuck (and I'm sure being drunk or high makes this easier), is nicer with a little depth to your interactions, at least for me. This is different from a Serious Relationship. This means we know each other a little better than having seen each other 3 times affords. Because when I was kissing him, I was thinking, "This is weird. I don't know this dude." If the chemistry were working for me, I imagine I wouldn't have thought that. Also: mushy kisser.

In the meantime, I've been texting with an old friend, who veered into the sexual (as he always does) and told me he's going to call me for phone sex tonight (though it's already 11:17). I'm fairly sure that won't actually happen, and that's fine w/me. I really want ACTUAL contact, and I did sleep with this guy, years ago, and it wasn't good...for me. Apparently it was for him.

But what the hell? All I have are these odd flirtations, nothing concrete, and nothing I want. It's nice to hear him tell me he loves me (as he always does, and I do love him) but...I can't remember the last time I saw him. Everything's out of my grasp.

And as I watch people write shockingly personal and downright inappropriate things on Facebook, I become even more reticent to write here, though this site isn't connected with my name. I just wonder if it's too confessional. Too weird. Too "who the hell cares?". Would it be more interesting if I included the dick pix? 'Cause don't tempt me! I wish I had enough explicit content, and then I could just make this a sex blog - those are popular!

chemistry

Here are a few things. Maybe I can tie them together, maybe not.

I was talking to a friend/colleague the other day. She's about 27, very sassy and outgoing, pretty and thin, and a psychologist. Married very young, seems like a very good marriage. She understands how lucky she is (or at least it's unusual) to have met someone so young that she actually ended up with. She was saying how she'd gone to (a studio in CA owned by a mutual friend/colleague) and was asked, on the spur of the moment, to provide some sexy sounds to a recording that was in process. The group recording was actually not a performing group, but a group of young guys there for a 4-day recording intensive workshop. Mostly college guys. No women.

She said she was aware of how they perceived her, as she is all the time with men. She knows she's considered "hot". And I've heard her joke about this. She knows that it's not because she's intrinsically beautiful, but because she's thin, and young, and dresses well, and isn't afraid to show cleavage, etc. But that she found she was not comfortable with the moaning and sighing they were asking her to do, just as she's not always comfortable with being "the hot girl", and all that goes along with that. She also said she knows that "this will all be gone in 5 years". This really took me by surprise. When I was her age, I wasn't worrying about age at all. It just hadn't reached my radar yet. I miss those days. I certainly wasn't feeling that my hotness meter was about to expire (though I feel that now, for sure). And hers won't, not in 5 years, and not in 10. She'll still be hot, though she doesn't believe that. I think what she is worried about, if it were deconstructed, is that she knows that the hold she has on that particular demographic, though she's not looking for attention from guys 18-25, probably will go away. And that feels like a loss to her. It's a power loss, maybe? In any case, it made me sad. That someone so smart and savvy, who is a mental health professional, still feels like aging is a train barreling down the tracks towards her. And it's true that women in our society aren't allowed to age, or aren't allowed to age and continue to be sexy and desirable. How to change that??

Other topic:

I went out on date #2 with a guy. He is really nice, fairly smart, easy to talk to, engaging, attentive, kind, etc. He's into me. I'm really not sure how I feel, and I'm trying to deconstruct it. He's not particularly funny, and funny seems to be one thing that REALLY reels me in. Is that why? Is it just plain chemistry? I'm not attracted to him? He's attractive enough, but I'm not feeling it. I wish I could force myself to do so. Is it that cliche where, because I now know he's interested in ME, that makes me disinterested? Am I that most horrible of traits that many men have, wherein I'm only interested if I'm chasing? Is that me?? Is it that there have been two guys in the fairly recent past who've presumably purged me from their/our pasts, despite great chemistry? Is it that things for me have now become SO twisted that I can only get off on guys who leave me to pine for them? Is it that the sexiest thing a man can say to me now is "I'm not interested" or "I'm seeing someone"? It's all pissing me off. If I could manufacture chemistry and force it, I would. I don't know if deconstructing is helpful or harmful. And this guy's been clear - I can let him know if I'm not interested. Problem is, I don't know if I am. As much as I'm looking for a relationship that includes, amongst its attributes, sex early and often, I can't get myself to want this guy. At least I haven't yet. I wish I could get some advice on this, but I'm not sure who to ask.

Meanwhile, the flirtation with the professor I mentioned before continues, though he's on a cruise presently, and will be on the other side of the country till Jan. Though we're going to be at the same place in the fall, I believe. And it's a variation on the theme with this guy, too. I'm not sure this guy is actually interested in me, and I'm not sure I am in him. At least I never thought of him that way when we've met in person. He's incredibly thin (though way fit), so much so that it's a negative for me, and I can't imagine being attractive to him if it really came down to it. On the other hand...what I've seen so far is impressive.

massholes

To the oh-so-delightful woman who swaggered her way out into a crosswalk when the light clearly said "DON'T WALK" in unmistakable red, and the light for cars was green, all the while yelling about how "pedestrians always have the right of way!", here's a little info for you:

At signalized intersections, DON’T WALK means DON’T WALK. If you are not in the crosswalk by the time the signal flashes “Don’t Walk”, then you are violating the law. The “countdown” signals which show the time remaining to get across the crosswalk safely are there to remind pedestrians already in the crosswalk how much time they have left to safely clear the intersection. Any time you enter a crosswalk when the signal is displaying “Don’t Walk”, you are violating the law and are subject to receiving a citation for violating the law.

Next time, maybe try toning down the ATTITUDE while you're breaking the law and putting us all in danger.

I used to say "I" and "me"...

I know everyone's had their say about Michael Jackson, and likely noone cares what I think, but here it is anyways, in brief. I'm not sure people really get how talented he was. In watching old videos of him (from the Jackson 5 days), most people can tell, of course, that he was an incredibly, spookily talented kid, but his mastery of emotion, his vocal control, his riffs...are just off the hook. Breathtaking. I was watching this video of him singing "Ben" and (if this is simplistic, I apologize) and he switches from verse 1 to verse 2 from major to minor in the melody. Very subtle but appropriate for the song. And even if that wasn't his idea, it would be challenging for a child to execute. Also, though he's clearly lip syncing here, you know this what he ACTUALLY sounded like, because there was no pitch correction then, or digital cut and paste. And later, he wrote and produced stuff that was a totally new sound, stuff that had never been heard before, with elements of other styles, of course (disco, r&b, etc), but not derivative. Same for his dancing. That's masterful, and THAT is why (the loss of him) is so significant.

And if you can indulge my intuition, I think I'm a fairly good judge of character by observation, and I TRULY do not think the molestation allegations were true. I think this was a man who just wanted a childhood he never had, wanted to be in the presence of people who were guileless, and those people were children. And he interacted with them like HE was a child as well. Unfortunately, there were parents who saw a potential cash cow looming before them, and took that insidious route. And MJ's actions certainly did appear untoward, inasmuch as he was interacting with these kids in a way that's ok when kid-to-kid, but not ok for non-relational adults and kids.

[sigh]

Happy Trails, MJ. I can't think of a more sweet tribute than this one.

Also, I miss the 70s because of shit like this.

separated at birth?

Has anyone else ever noticed the eerie similarity between Gary Busey and Bubs from Homestar Runner? Resemblence seems pretty uncanny to me...

ear / construction / Duran Duran sucks

Turns out that there was no water in my ear, but instead there was a piece of hair resting on my eardrum. The doc asked if I'd had my hair cut recently. A few months ago, I guess. Somehow this little piece of hair found it's way in there and cozied up to my precious eardrum, where it reverberated and made it feel like there was water in there. Who knew that could happen? I watched the whole process on a GIANT FLATSCREEN MONITOR, as he extracted the thing. Kinda cool, and the sloshing feeling, not surprisingly, went away instantly. Plus, this guy is adorable. And really funny. Sigh. I wish I had, like ANY KIND OF GAME such that I could ask him out.

I'm getting a little (a LOT) tired of the constant construction on this house. I don't know what they're doing, but it goes on literally night and day. For example, it was going on until 1am last night and started at 8:30 this morning (or maybe earlier), with the POWER SAWS. It continues right now. And the walls are very thin so it's like they're doing it in my bedroom. My fear is that they're fixing it all up to sell it, so that months and months of loud construction will end up with a nice eviction notice. I'm worried and annoyed. They don't seem to have any concept of appropriate time for noisemaking, because it's often goes well past midnight. Well, maybe that'll be the thing that finally forces me out of this state.

I did a one-song backup vocal thing this week. It was only (the songwriter) and his girlfriend at the recording (my part was done at their house, though the bulk of the recording is being done at a very nice studio). When I sang the part I created (which I was prepared to modify in any number of ways, per their taste), the guy's girlfriend started crying. She said it was so beautiful and was exactly the kind of part she'd heard in her head. That was nice, because it just feels like noone likes my voice anymore. I just feel so lost and...done, so that was nice to know that at least I can still move someone without even trying.

Tonight I'm singing with a "band" for my cousin's wife's 40th (it's a surprise for her). We did have one rehearsal together, sans the vocal percussionist I got us. And then we tried to have another one via Skype, which was pretty much comically disastrous. Cousin's wife (who is also a friend of mine, and I love) apparently is a big fan of - ahem - Duran Duran, so we're doing a few DD songs, "Don't Stop Believin'" (Journey) and "I Want To Rock and Roll All Night" (Kiss). The latter two are ok, but I definitely solidified my dislike of Duran Duran. And I never really listened to their lyrics before, but they are laughably ridiculous. I'm sure those boys of asymmetrical hair thought they were creating pure poetry when they wrote things like:

In touch with the ground
I'm on the hunt I'm after you
Scent and a sound, I'm lost and I'm found
And I'm hungry like the wolf
Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme
I howl and I whine I'm after you
Mouth is alive all running inside
And I'm hungry like the wolf

Ouch. And no, adding some woman moaning in the background of the recording makes it neither more interesting, nor "sexy".