Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Riding the Wave



I am currently on the ride of my life. Its a wave I've never ridden before and I find myself clinging on, determind to just enjoy the ride. I want to live in the real world, as opposed to disapearing inside the fictional world of my head. I have found that it is much scarier and much more thrilling to live in the here and now.

I beleive I can now officialy call MD my boyfriend. It feels strange to say it, a word that I'm not used to popping out of my mouth. The word "we" and "us". We were sleeping when the cat woke us up. We got up and went to brunch. My boyfriend drove me into the city in his car. It is a language I am not used to using in the here and now.

I feel as though I am standing still while MD dances circles around me. He has said more than once that he is "the girl" in this relationship. MD is never quiet sure if he's saying the right thing, guessing at how I feel and what the things I do mean. I am trying to meet him half way, to take the compliments without questioning them. MD is still very much earning my trust. It has barely been a month, there is still work that needs to be done, assurances that will come with time. I am leary of "the instant relationship; just add water" and the adoration MD lavishes on me is almost frightening in its intensity. He is a passionate person who doesn't hold anything back; I am a quiet person who wants to test the waters. I am trying to live in the moment, to enjoy the attention as it comes instead of fearing the future. It is something I activly work on everyday.

I'm still trying to figure out how to work MD into my life. I feel as though other areas are being put on the backburner, and I find myself playing catch up to no avail.

I have been "cooking" on my story, worried that it won't make it into the reading I once thought I had gained entry into. I have sent out 3 resumes for new jobs, but worry that I will be stuck in my current SDJ, that the motivation to get out is starting to wain. I've been feeling ill lately, exhasted when I come home with no energy to do anything but sleep or zone out.

I wonder how MD fits into my close knit circle of friends, who for years have known SL2000 as the "always up to go out single friend". I am working on being available to everyone. MD wants so much of my time. I want to make time for him, for the girls, for writing, for finding a new job and I am running out of hours in a day. I feel as though I need a good solid week of hiding. To just write, work and hang. I think they call that a vacation? Imagine that, time off.....just another fantasy from the ficitional world of my brian.

Prehaps the appropriate image for this would be juggling while riding the wave. The wave is not something I wish to get lost in. I do not want to come up for air and realize I've done nothing to find a new job, that I have not writen a word in months, that my friends feel alienated. That last part is particularly important. While I test the waters and see if I can trust MD, I need the people I do trust around me. All of my relationships are important, and I am cultivating new ones with with diffrent people.

I suppose the best advice is the kind I dish out like candy to everyone else. Ride the wave and just enjoy it....

Friday, January 27, 2006

My Body wants to up and Quit Me.



I've been having a tough week. Bitch Slapped by the hand of God. Everything that could go wrong in my body, did. The day after I spent the night at MD's, I got a yeast infection. It was so bad I thought I was going to die, till Ms. Creative laid out the facts like a Planned Parenthood help line. I wasn't dying, this was normal and most likely a product of my spending the night (drunkenly) with MD. Call it my little morning after present. I felt cursed.

I was scheduled to spend another evening with MD later that week, but my body was slowly falling to pieces. I had a fevor, the chills, a cold sore on my lip, my ears hurt, and I wouldn't be suprised if I dropped limbs on the way to the train. "Oh, I'm sorry, is that my finger?" I had a deadly leper disease and felt like a walking virus. To say I didn't feel sexy was the understatement of the year. On Tuesday he texts me, saying how much he is looking foward to Wendsday. What do I say? "Sorry honey, I can't, I have a raging yeast infection?"

Well yes, actually. That's exactly what I said. I called him up and listed the entire dirty list of ills. He was once pre-med, he's in to totaly honesty. I figured the big boy could take it.

"Oh honey, you had me at 'yeast infection'" he said.

He then offered to pick me up from work on Wendsday, take me home, make me soup and watch movies with me.

Which made for the hotest 5th date ever. Me in my jamies with the slipper socks, a fever, a blister on my lip, and walking very gingerly. He said he couldn't have asked for a better 5th date. And my oversized sweatshirt was indeed very sexy. He met my cat and gained her approval, checked out my diggs, which he seemed to really like, saw that I slept with stuffed animals and didn't pass judgement, made me soup, set up "Fight Club" on the laptop, then put me to bed when I passed out. He spent the night with a sick girl, a cat on his face, and neighbors screaming outside.

I think MD might actually like me.

Doesn't dealing with the sick and the ugly usually happen at least a month into the dating process? I feel like we've skipped ahead in time.

He's working on restriant when it comes to the emotional bucket of paint and I'm working on taking the compliments. He wants to spend a lot of time with me, and I feel like I need some perspective on the entire dating process. I guess what it comes down to, is I've lived alone for so long, its all I know how to do. I don't even ride the subway well with other people. I've walked into this city as an independent person, and I'm unsure how to live any other way. How do I encorporate MD into my life? How do my mornings go with him sitting at the kitchen table? Its a life I've been longing to know for years, and I've gotten used to that far away longing. I'm good at it.

I've often said that relationships are a continuous set of negotiations. I need to start taking my own advice. This is something I need to stick with and explore. The scarrier it gets, the more I need to stay the course and see where it goes. I need to follow MD's tone, and be emotionaly honest about how I feel. This is scary, but I'm not going to run away.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Baggage.........



Ok, so my baggage isn't that color coordinated or pretty. Its mostly beat up boxes covered in duct tape, with all kinds of things I don't really like dealing with bursting at the seems.

I am of course refering to emotional baggage, not my personal luggage. And I seem to have more of it than I thought..........

I heard this really great essay on NPR a couple of weeks ago. I can't remember the author of it, but it was on "Selected Shorts" one of my "regular" Sunday programs. It was about a writer who always seemed to be the "forever single" friend. She considered herself to be the perfect houseguest. By her deffinition, the perfect houseguest, is someone that is unattached. You can mold to fit other people's energy, blend into the daily life of the house until you seem to hum with it. The perfect houseguest never complains, you are niether too happy or unhappy. You just are....there, a familar blanket, a comfort to the family and able to blend into thier way of life.

The author loved being the perfect houseguest. In these other houses, she was able to dream about the day she would have her own family, her own rythum to hum to. What would her house look like, were would they live.....and what would it like be like as the other half of a pair? As a writer, she was able to live in this fantasy until it took the place of reality. The day she actually achieved her fantasy, was the day she was no longer able to be the perfect houseguest. She wondered if in the face of reality, was it the dream she prefered? For a writer, there is nothing quiet as seductive as writing your own life.

It occurs to me, that I too, have been the author of my own romances. It is a world I can create so well, I often wonder if I'm cabable of haveing one in reality. Imagine two people facing eachother, each full of expectations, hopes, fears and most of all....piles of individual baggage. It all seems to present itself so quickly and the reality of it all is a bit frightening.

In less than a month, I have found myself faced with my piles of banged up boxes, staring across the perverbial isle at MD.

He is the most open and sharing person I have ever met. There is not a moment were I wonder how he feels, or what he's thinking, because he tells me. There's no inner monologue at work, no subtext, just one big heart sitting on his sleave. Its just a little intense and a little frightening for this quiet writer.

Those who know me well, know that it takes awhile to sort through my boxes. I write more than I speak, I ponder things before I say them, and I am very careful about who sees the contents of my heart. It is the walls that life has built. I wouldn't say I'm "emotionally unavaliable", it just takes awhile for me to trust others and admit when I feel vulnerable.

My past is filled with relationships, both romantic and friends, who started out with an intense bang and ended in the same way. Its this habit of being with someone so much you use eachother up until there is nothing left. I call it "instant" relationship, just add water. I also seem to find myself on a pedistal, sitting way up high in the land of "everything you do is great" which can be a nice place to sit for awhile. The problem is what goes up, must and will come crashing down.

I can tell you that the air up here is pretty nice. So is my view. MD is pushing me higher and higher and after 4 dates (3 moved into 4, if you catch my drift, a decision I wonder if I made too soon), I'm starting to look for my glass ceiling. I don't know if its the product of therapy, an actor thing, or a past filled with people who never shared feelings, but MD is laying the emotional honesty on me with a thick brush. I think I spent a good 10 minuets on the phone just listening to him tell me how beautiful I am, how great I am, etc etc, until I literaly wanted to curel up in a ball and die. I had no idea what to say, how to react, what to feel, it was just so much at once. Now I know it must sound crazy, to react that way to someone who is paying you wonderful comments. They are things I like to hear....but when someone you've only known for a short time is laying it on that thick.....it gets your guard up. How does he know all this? On what is he basing it on? I am a writer....I prefer a few, well choosen words to an avalanche of compliments. They seem to roll off his tounge so freely, they almost loose thier meaning.

I am sitting on my pedistal, clinging to the edges as I am remade in MD's eyes. True or not, its how I feel.

The advice I've recieved is ride the wave. MD values emotional honesty, so I need to be honest. I need the breaks put on this train. I do like him, and I want to spend time with him, but relationships shouldn't grow like seahorses. It takes more than a little water for things to bloom for me.....I need to see how this will grow over time. My baggage will open, but I need to sort through it at my own pace...

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Fading away in cublicle land



The purpose of this posting is to keep me awake.
My eyes are actually throbing from staring at the computer screen this long.
My brain feels like a pile of processed cheese product.
My body may actually be molded to fit this chair.

A song comes to mind. From the show "How to Succeed in Buisness Without Really Trying...."

"....If I can't take 3 daily trips, to my shining shrine that nightly drips
or taste carboard between my lips, something within me dies
lies down and something within me dies.

That office light doesn't have to be florecent. I'll get no pains in the head. That office chair doesn't have to be foam rubber, so if I spead, so I spread.
But only one chemical substance...
Gets out the led.
Like she said.

If I can't take my coffee break
Something within me dies
Lies down and something within me dies."

I only remeber this song because I auditioned for the above stated musical in high school. I was the prop mistress on that one. I got to stand offstage in the dark while people tossed thier used coffee cups off stage or scooted office chairs at me. Its a glamorous job really and what go me started in theatre in the first place. I must be a glutton for punishment because I now have a BFA in stage management. That was a usefull degree....

They've set up for the program tonight. They being catering services. They have not, however, brough the coffee. I find that rather rude. I mean, I'm not paying $400 for the program or attending, but I do work here. They should at least provide me with ample opportunity to siphon coffee away before the paying customers get here. Come on man. I'm a cubicle fugative. I'm a writer in real life, I don't actually make a living wage. Free Coffee. That's why we're all here really.

Digressing......


What the hell ever happend to Axle Rose? Wasn't he working on an album for 10 years? Trying to make the perfect Guns and Roses album? I wonder what that would even sound like. That's a lot of pressure...to make the PERFECT rock album. I think its been done already, by Pink Floyd. I heard he showed up at the Rainbow Room and no one recognized him. He had to walk up to the bartender and say "hey, I'm Axle Rose" and they were like "were the hell have you been? We thought you disapeared with the early 90s" and Axle was like "I'm working on my music" For 10 years? Come on man. Just put the album out already.

More Digressing..........

So had to go to "phone training" the other day. I had this avalanche of work sitting on my desk, but the powers that be thought I should go to an hour long class on how to use the new phone. An excellent use of time. I thought "well, if its this complex it must be a computer or come with a helper monkey." But when I got down there, it was just a phone. You pick up the reciver and say "hello" and the other person on the other end says "hi" and then you converse through the very phone like reciever. If you want to put them on hold, you push this big red button that says "hold". There's even a packet of instructions that tells you how to program voice mail and give your direct dial buttons names. I named mine Fred. I had the entire thing set up in five minuets and then had to sit there while this lady cried because she couldn't figure out how to type in her password or her extention. I'm sorry she was having such a tough time of it, but really. That avalanche of work isn't going to disapear of its own accord. Not unless an act of God occures and that just doesn't happen here in cublicle land. I doubt even one of Bush's spy satellites could see me down here. Maybe they should have gotten her a squirl monkey. Something that sits on your shoulder and picks up the phone for you.

If your going to have an hour long training session on how to use a phone, you can atleast serve coffee.

5 minuets to go. If I don't get some caffine stat, I'm going to look like that poor dude in the middle cubicle pictured above......

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Date # 2



I'll wait a moment while you finish gagging over the sickly sweet picture I have posted........................................................................
But may I remind you that it is not offten, if not RARE that I would ever post something that pink and cuddley.

Ok. I like MD. A lot. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. What are the odds of a single, attractive, mature man my age to be running around this city? Its like I'm constantly looking for the fine print. When does this expire? Is he really 45 and supporting a family? Does he have a girlfriend or a string of women all wondering if they too, have found the last good guy on this island? I'm smiling, I'm happy, I'm holding his hand, all the while looking up, waiting for the sky to fall.

The Date.

We meet at said generic middle eastern resturant in trendy lower east side. He was running late, but made up for it by walking in with flowers! I was thrilled, but as you can see it doesn't take much. I choose the awakward table. The one with cushins on the floor that is impossible to get out of. It was a source of great amusment for us and his good natured humor earned him brownie points. MD is deffinatly ahead in the brownie point scoring division.

I rattled on like an idoit, although I usually feel like I rattle on, hands flying through the air, in danger of knocking things over, illistrating my stories with accents, voices and hand gestures. MD thought it was great. My stories are all new to him, and its great to tell them to someone who's never heard them and is truely interested. He made me laugh so hard a few times I almost shot water out my nose. We were a raukus pair, and could have cared less what anyone else thought.

It was nice to see that he was relaxed. Sometimes you go out with someone that is so uptight about impressing you, the whole evening feels a bit stuffy. Not so with MD. I ordered the wine on account of my supior knowlage from a 1 credit wine course in college and he deffered to me when it came, stating that "the lady has the supior taste in wine".

After the dinner we walked to the train, holding hands and kissed on the train platform, such a typical city thing to do. And you know what? I could have kissed him there all night. Its the first time PDA hasn't bothered me. In fact, I kissed him twice, in two diffrent subway stations. Thats right, we were those people. He said he had to see me soon and departed glancing over his shoulder as I walked to the train, clutching my flowers and looking up, waiting for the sky to fall.

Date # 3 TBA......

Friday, January 13, 2006

Coming out the otherside of the sink hole



My last entry was somewhat in dispeare. I may have been counting my blessings, but I was down to counting change for groceries. It was getting bad. I had an "open tab" going with Ms. Creative, Synge was offering to loan me money off her credit card and I was borrowing money from petty cash at work all over the place. Checks were made of rubber and my credit card was $200 over limit. Last night I was staring at a box of pasta, a frozen bag of veggies and two eggs, wondering how to make it strech when my dad called with the good news

"We're out of the hole!" He screamed.

Dear dad finial had a lawsuite he'd been tied up in for 6 years settle in his favor. He was down to $10 and digging for quarters in the couch when the call came in. "See how it works?" He said "It always comes through when you need it." He's right. The next day he dumped a good chunk of change in my account and I began to climb out of the hole.

"I'm writing checks that don't bounce, how much do I owe you!" I yelled to friends over the phone. If felt good to pay off some debts. I repaid petty cash, my friends, and decided to host a dinner party to thank everyone for being so wonderful while I was down. Tomorrow I will stock up on stuff I need before I trip and fall in another hole. It happens sometimes. I'm up, I'm down, I'm hanging in by my finger nails, but thats life. I've learned to appreciate what I have when I have it.

On the man front:



Ok, its not raining men. Well, just one. We'll call him Mark Darcey, after Bridget's cute underdog. Or MD, if you will.

I met MD the old fashion way. Internet dating. I know, I can't shake the stigma of it either, and I was ready to quit when I stumbled across his picture on the site and well....he had the cutest smile. So I "winked" at him and he wrote back. This is how the internet thing usually goes.

We meet at the "safe bar", its a place I go all the time with Synge, and hence know the bartender who's a woman and was keeping an eye out for me. She needn't worry. I recognized him by the smile and was happy to see that this guy actually did look like his picture, a nice suprise. We hit it off fabulously. The mysterious self filling wine glasses helped push things along, compliments of the bartender and owner.

Synge did her friend duty and called to check in, but I was having such a good time I didn't answer. So she called again, which is why she's one of my dearest friends. She took her duties very seriously. I think I texted something like "I'm really really ok."

He was really really ok and I felt really really ok. He kept touching my knee when he was talking, leaning in, telling me I was pretty. (that was after a couple glasses of wine, he wasn't snarky or anything). I felt like I talked too much, I always feel that way but he seemed to think the long winded stories I told him were great. He seemed to think everything I said was great. I thought he was pretty great to.

He walked me to the train, no kiss yet but I wasn't into the ackward first date kiss. I tend to avoid that.

And we're going out again! Ha! This one just might stick.
The date is set for next week, and I will be sure to update you then.

Isn't it refreshing to read a postive blog entry for once?

Avoiding work.....and trying to stay awake

To prevent my head from banging into the desk; both from exhastion and the fusteration of the Alito hearings on NPR, I have decided to indulge in the world's dummbest quizes.....compliments of Synge.

Your 80s Heartthrob Is

Kirk Cameron


I wouldn't have chosen this for myself, but he is kinda cute in wholesome way.
You are Bettie Page

Girl next door with a wild streak
You're a famous beauty - with unique look
And the people like you are cultish about it


I've very happy with this choice. I think Betty Page is very sexy.
Your Vibe Is Somewhat Sexy

On a good day, you're the sexiest woman in the world
But on a bad day, you can't help but feel a little average
Try to remember the times you've felt the sexiest...
And keep that attitude even on the worst of days


Well, isn't this true of everyone?

You Are a Lace Bra!

Dreamy, romantic, and ultra-feminine
You're a womanly woman who makes guys feel like men
Your perfect guy is strong, determined, and handsome
With a softer side that only you can draw out


That's funny, I don't own any lace bras....

Guys Like That You're Sensitive

And not in that "cry at a drop of a hat" sort of way
You just get most guys - even if you're not trying to
Guys find it is easy to confide in you and tell you their secrets
No wonder you tend to get close quickly in relationships!


You Are an Exotic Beauty!

No matter what your ehtnic background, you've got a unique look
And your one of a kind beauty makes an imprint in every man's mind
You hardly ever wear the same outfit twice, and your hair is always changing
As a result, your look is always new and fresh - never outdated or stale


You Should Date A Swede!

You're a romantic, albeit an understated and practical one.
It's more about a steady partnership for you, not unrestrained falling
Your Swede will give you the unwavering love you crave
While making up some mean pancakes and meatballs on the side!


I suppose thats a lot diffrent than an Italian....my last one.

Your Celebrity Sisters Are Mary-Kate and Ashley

Funky, eccentric, and offbeat
You're not a good girl or a bad girl, just a weird girl


Ug! It'd be more like the little sisters I toss in the car when they're drunk or drag off to rehab. I also thought me and Claire Danes would be good sisters

Your Love Quote

True love stories never have endings.


I feel the need to point out that the only question on this one was "Are you in Love? Yes or no" Who comes up with this stuff? Who takes these quizes?

You Should Be In the Indigo Girls

Your all about expressing yourself through music
Lyrics are your poetry - think Sylvia Plath meets guitar


Yeah Indigo Girls! On that note, I think I'm done with the quizzes....

I promise to write something real soon.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

When Life gives you lemmons, or cheap lemmon flavoring.....



Its been a lean month. The peanut butter on a spoon, variety.

After all was said and done with January rent, I found myself with whopping $14.92 left in my bank account. My dad, the one who usually bails me out, found himself with $40.00 left in his bank account. The family that writes together, starves together. I guess you could say I found this a bit distressing.

"I don't know how I'm going to pay my bills, or buy food or exsist on $14!" I sobbed into the phone to my dad, who had nothing to say. I e-mailed a friend and told her I'd be unable to go anywere this week, or next week and would be eating crackers in my apartment.

"Are you stupid?" She asked in her usual gentle manner. "You have friends for a reason. I'm going to make you dinner. And take you out, and get you drunk and if you need groceries just say something." I did feel stupid. And very grateful to have good friends around me.

Its a matter of putting things into perspective. I may have had $14.92 in my bank account, but I'm better off than a lot of people. I have a job. I get paid in two weeks. I have friends around me that won't let me starve. I paid rent this month, and the electric bill isn't due for two weeks. I have bread and peanut butter at home.

I had a conversation with some of my co-workers, and one of them was telling me about living in the projects, or the "PJs" as she called them. What it was like to be on public assistance and the day she finally got a job. The day she went down to that public assistance office and said "I won't be needing your services anymore." It was a triumphant day. "You gonna be ok honey." She told me. "People always have a way of making it thought." She was right. A much older and wiser woman than me, who had been through worse things than having $14 in her bank account.

I felt like a shmuck. Perhaps that's the lesson in this. Count you blessings.

I live in New York for a reason. This is the city were people hang on by thier fingernails with a grim determination. We charge rent on our credit cards and eat free vegan food at the krishna center and march fowarded with that fixed look in our eyes that New Yorkers are known for. Its the city of "I'm going to make it if I have to crawl there on my hands and knees." Half the battle is making due with very little. Small apartments, high rent, expensive transportation and jobs that never seem to really cut it. I certainly don't make my rent in two weeks and I don't know anyone who does. People in the artistic world I live in never stop looking for work and never stop beleiving that somehow they will just make through this month because they always have.

I can't think of any other city I'd rather be broke in.

I am thankful for my friends, and the lesson in perspective I have gained. As I have every month for the past two years.....I will make it through.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

I Consider Myself Warned



When the fates speak, I find its usually a good idea to listen.

This weekend I recieved a double cosmic whammy, if you will. The giant hand reached out of the sky, slapped me across the face and said, "Hey, pay attention." My face still stings a bit, but my eyes are wide open. I'm now checking for boggey men under the bed and sleeping with a nightlight. Sometimes I wish the cosmic foces would be a bit more specific.



It all started with an anxiety filled night on Sunday. I just couldn't seem to settle down. I was up every hour with a feeling of dread filling me. Why was the cat staring at the corner? Was there something under the bed? Wasn't that car alarm going for a long time? The normal creeks and groans of my apartment all sounded new to me and my imagination was on overdrive. Shadows were people, the boys slamming thier door was suddenly my front door slamming, and monsters slithered through the kitchen. I finially fell into a restless sleep, the kind that is half awake only you can't open your eyes, sand weighing your limbs down.

I dreamed that I wanted to go get some juice. It was 3:00am and I suddenly had the desire to go to the super sketchy corner store to purchase a carton of orange juice. The same super sketchy store that may or may not be selling crack from behind its plastic windows. In my dream I got up, put on a coat and shoes, took some money and walked out the door. I got half way down the block when I saw a group of men pushing another man against a wall with a knife to his throat. A group of voices screamed "run home!" coming from everywere at once. I ran back to my apartment, terror gripping my heart. I felt like I had seen something I was not meant to see. I woke up dripping in sweat, my heart pounding. It seemed so real I was half convinced I had actually tried to go buy juice. Had I seen this out the window? I don't fall back asleep, and laid there watching the cat watch the heater, filled with her own cat anxiety.

The next day I recieved a strange phone call from my dad. "Are you okay?" he asked when I picked up the phone. Aparently, he had found a Christmas ornament with my name on it laying in the middle of the floor. He had left the house for couple of hours, all in order, and returned to find that this specific ornament (there was only two like it) on the tree had somehow unhooked itself from the top and landed by the front door. He lives alone without animals, nor does the tree move or ornaments walk. He was filled with dread, and felt as though something was being foreshadowed. When I told him my dream, it seemed to all click.

I was being warned.

To the average person, this may sound like a strange conclusion to make, but I have learned not to take these voices lightly. I have heard them foreshadowing almost every major event in my life. They stopped my dad from getting on a plane that crashed. They have guided me to the side of a road during a blinding monsoon, and told me to run just as foot steps started to pound behind me. I once fell asleep at the wheel, only to wake up to a sharp slap in the face, the wheel steady under my hands. It can be as simple as an idea that pops into my head, a dream, a soft voice, a shout to to run that seems to come from everywere at once.

This is one of the strongest warnings I've recieved in a long time, and the first personal foreshadowing. I do not know what to look out for so I will keep my eyes peeled for everything. My dream suggested violence, or perhaps an act that was out of character for me. The ornament that fell was of a girl ice skating, so my father thought it could be weather related.

I know if this foreshadowed moment should come, the same voices that throw Christmas ornaments and scream "run" will probably be there again to guide me through it.

Message recieved

I will proceed with caution.