Archive for January, 2008

Slightly euphoric

January 20, 2008 | Filed under: Fotografias, This side of the Hudson, Whoopdie Doo

Right now it’s just the little things that are making me happy. Ho hum…

I

By the seat of my pants

January 19, 2008 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Inebriated prose, Whoopdie Doo

“We have to learn to be our own best friends because we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies.”  ~Roderick Thorp

 

So, I’m sitting here having some wine and in my jammies. There’s some self loathing and the HBO signature channel which is like Lifetime lite; the kind that will only leave you kind of teary eyed but without full on sobbing. And suddenly I have this great epiphany, but it’s not an epiphany and more like “HEY DUMBASS! OVER HEEEERE!” I literally sit upright and realize that hey, dumbass, you are not in control. Then relax back on the couch and say ‘huh…’ to myself. 

 

I talk to myself a lot when alone. I probably should get out more but that’s an entirely different conversation. 

 

I apologize for this rambling and extraordinarily vapid post of introspection but I swear to God, for the past month I’ve been waking up and saying “Whatever happens, happens. It will be fine.” I write it out, I say it out loud, I tell friends all in an attempt to convince myself that things happen for a reason and things aren’t as bad as they seem because this is the first time that I’ve been completely out of control. There is no back up plan when things inevitably plan and I have ALWAYS had a back up plan. Obviously nothing is 100% definite but even when things have been at like 99.9% definite there is always a back up plan. I don’t want to end up completely unprepared. 

 

Anyway, I’m on my couch realizing this and I smack my hand down and I don’t know…I figure why the hell not enjoy myself and be spontaneous? Fuck, the most spontaneous thing I’ve ever done is go to Oklahoma City and even that required some sort of planning and stress and hand wringing through Midway airport. But suddenly I don’t know…I don’t feel stressed…I’m just thinking ‘Okie dokie, here goes nothing. Stock up on the Pinot.’ I’m just gonna fly by the seat of my pants and I will inevitably fall on my ass. But for the first time ever - good lord, I am pathetic - it’s going to be OK. And holy hell, am I happy. 

 

Imperfectly perfect

January 18, 2008 | Filed under: Comes And Goes

“Someone to tell it to is one of the fundamental needs of human beings.” ~Miles Franklin

When Kris writes about relationships I always feel like I’m right there with her. Not only is she a gifted writer but also an excellent friend to have, always full to the brim of good advice and wise words that resonate and are more than a perfunctory ‘Men suck’. I say it, too of course; that the opposite sex is around just to ensure I get my money’s worth in therapy. Most everyone does it Everyone needs that friend that can look at the bigger picture which is something that I, at times, am seriously lacking, especially when it comes to analyzing relationships. And not just my own I might add but others. Which of course begs the question as to why on Earth one would come to me looking for sage advise on any sort of relationship with any person? Me? The person who is perfectly content sleeping and living and (I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but what the hell) possibly breeding alone. I am not one to go to in any sort of uber relationship crisis. I am just not equipped to deal with such things and in my mind all I’m thinking is “Wouldn’t you be happier…I don’t know…ALONE?” while I’m nodding and pretending to really feel for my friends.

I remember a few years ago, a close friend was having relationship woes and I was out of the country. I could only hear of stories and things based on hearsay. It’s hard to get wrapped up in everything that is going on across an ocean while riding camels in a desert near Marrakech. It was hard because I ended up being the bad friend; the one who started judging and eye rolling and not really listening. I still feel shitty about the entire situation some three years later because I was so completely wrong with my automatic assumptions. But that’s how it goes; people tell stories in short bursts, stories that rarely show a complete picture. Stories that are usually shared with girlfriends out of anger or frustration and alway over a good bottle of wine. Either way it’s during those times when you want someone to commiserate and understand and say “YES! He’s an asshole! He made you cry” even if there is so much more that isn’t being said.

Relationships - any relationship - are labyrinthian in their complexities. In which two people have a connection with each other that would be impossible for another to understand. I’m not trying to be my naive Pollyanna-like self nor am I claiming to be an expert; I just find it ludicrous to think that one knows all about how two people interact with each other based upon a simple blog post or a 25 minute conversation during which one of the parties is completely shit faced. Each is different and each must be navigated in their own complicated ways. Perhaps vexing to a third party; you know, the friend that always chimes in with “Dump his ass” (that would be me, by the way) but in the grand scheme of things all might very well be good. I think the kids call it ‘venting’.

I think about these things some times. Knowing full well that no relationship will be perfect. I wonder how much effort I would put in (knowing me, a metric fucking ton) and whether or not I would compromise on the things that were always ‘NEVERS’. Would I have outbursts and bitch to my friends about my annoyances while announcing that he is one fickle motherfucker? (Um, have you met me? Have you even remotely perused any of this site? Then YES). But that would never be the complete story because I’d only want and could only portray my side; which would be the right side at the moment (DUH). Despite the imperfections - superficial and real - after the venting is over and a good buzz is procured, I want to be able to look him in the eye and say “I am a better person with you in my life and no matter what I love you”.

(Oh my god, I might have just gagged. The sentimentality is killing me. Next week we’ll be exploring the following topic: Grey Goose or Ketel One: Which would you rather bathe in? Discuss.)

A week

January 17, 2008 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Humdrum

“Unless you have been very, very lucky, you have undoubtedly experienced events in your life that have made you cry. So unless you have been very, very lucky, you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.” ~Lemony Snicket

Yesterday morning I was asked how I was doing. Not exactly known for my sunny disposition I shrugged and replied, “Fine. It’s been a long week.”

 

“Don’t ever say fine!” he shot back.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Don’t you know that fine stands for Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotionally unstable?!”

 

“…”

 

“Never, ever say fine. Say excellent. Say blessed. But never fine.”

 

Well then, I seem to be ‘fine’ in all senses of the word for it’s been a really, really long week. I’ve said this a million times before but it’s always the little things that pile up and turn into one big thing that causes me to feel like I’m seconds away from spontaneously combusting. One step closer to an open flame and I’m a goner. It started with a cold and then a crappy reaction to medication then checking in and out of three different hotels in one week. And let it be known that I’ve seriously gotten over the whole allure of sleeping hotels and ordering all the room service my little high fructose corn syrup heart desired.

 

ANYWAY all of these things has turned me into a complete basket case of impending doom. With the climax of this story being a really exciting trip to the Verizon store after which I cried. No, CRIED into a chocolate milkshake. I honestly don’t cry that often but I apparently needed to just let it all out. You know, that type of cry that starts off with a tightened chest, then a deep breath, with the next exhale becoming a little shaky, then the involuntary chest heaves before you’re suddenly BLINDED by tears (while driving no less) (while getting onto an on ramp where people are known for their lack of turn signal usage) (did I mention that I was holding a fucking milkshake and God forbid I put that shit down). Then you let go of everything that was being held back. The tears only come after I’ve let something build and build and build and for the most part I tend to keep them at a distance because tear stained is not a good look for me. I, my friends, am an ugly crier. It’s just been a week that’s all. A week of really fantastic highs and the inevitable lows all of which were planned and deserved but either way, I am now truly spent. But at least I’m able to own up to everything and honestly say that I am just ‘fine’ and perhaps next week I will be back to my normal, vodka drinking, Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis-esque, excellent self.

Secrets

January 16, 2008 | Filed under: Humdrum, Just Add Alcohol

“But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one’s deepest as well as one’s most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.” ~Dinah Craik

On Saturday night Marci and I did our usual Georgetown gallivanting; crepes, wine and vodka. After half a glass of wine, I started divulging shit like she had a gun to my head or she was going to smash the bottle of Tempranillo on the ground (Can you picture it all slow motion like with me diving in front of the bottle to cushion it’s blow to the cold hardwood floors?) I swear all she had to do was look at me quizzically and it bore me down on the spot. When it comes to keeping things to myself I frankly suck at it. All it takes is one perfectly arched eyebrow to have me spewing. Though never about others and their secrets because a true narcissist knows that the Earth revolves around her. Duh. Despite that I’m very careful with whom I share things with and it’s as if I have some sort of sensor buried into my unconscious that knows exactly who to trust. Call it a by-product of being fucked over repeatedly by 7th grade ‘friends’. By the end of the evening, after grey goose was imbibed and boys were beaten off with a stick, we stood on Wisconsin Avenue debating and analyzing. Even if I know the answers are sometimes a little validation is needed from those that know me best. A good talk and gentle reminding or perhaps a good knock to the head; either way, I love in so many ways that I’ve surrounded myself with people who keep me honest and listen to my bitching about the most innocuous of things. Would it be cliché to say that we should all be so lucky?