Archive for June, 2008

What do you love about your life?

June 17, 2008 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Just asking

“Life loves to be taken by the lapel and told: ‘I am with you kid. Let’s go.’” ~Maya Angelou

I’ve been having these daily moments of complete panic. Wherein I stop in the middle of whatever I might be doing to feel my heart race. I take a few deep breaths and sometimes text/IM/fax Susan to say that I am panicky and she, my comfort friend, tells me that I’ll be fine and perhaps now would be a good time to find that bottle of wine.

Everyday I look at the way I’ve neatly organized my wall calendar. All of the days highlighted in pink are days that I will be away. By my count I will be away for 40 days between now and September 1st. 40. The same number of days of Lent and the same number of days it rained during the flood. I’m getting all Biblical because I’m pretty sure that it will take an act of God to keep me from not losing my ever loving shit between now and September. The problem is that none of these trips are bad; some actually cause my heart to race in excitement, it’s just that they are some very big trips, with very big people and very large crowds; hence the anxiety and general abuse of psychotropic drugs.

This is how I always get though before a lot of big stuff happens. It’s just that never before has so much happened in such a short period of time that I’m finding it difficult to wrap my head around two straight months of being surrounded by several hundred to several thousand people. There is also the here and the there and the normal everyday stuff that I know I will handle because I have to but that doesn’t necessarily prevent me from sitting in the middle of my living room while Simon kneads my stomach, wishing that it were fall already.

Last night I happened to be having one of those episodes. I sat in the dark holding my laptop in one hand and a coffee in the other. I had just returned from the movies and was trying to think of synonyms for ‘absurd’ (asinine, fatuous) when the panic - which I should add, mostly revolves on the sheer number of people I plan to share my personal space with over the upcoming months. Followed closely by the number of times I am going to have to strip for TSA – hit me like a Hummer on the Beltway. So I closed my eyes and began to take deep breaths when The Roommate busted in. Now if you must understand that my roommate is one of those people who believes in positive thought and life and that giving out good energy and doing good will bring good to your life. I believe that if I raise my left eyebrow and look menacing then people will listen to me.

She startled me with her bright Hello. Like we hadn’t seen each other in months and I peered over the monitor, mumbled a bleak Hi and then went back to my hand-wringing. She had been away for a few days for her Wisdom Class (don’t ask) and she proceeded to ask me what I love about my life. That it took me a solid 10 minutes to think of something that I really loved about my life is disheartening and unsettling. For surely my life isn’t that bad. And it isn’t. Really it’s just that when things become beyond overwhelming and you have to take deep breaths and medication in order to face the day, well it is hard to not develop the personality of an angry scorpion.

There is hope for me because I was able to come up with a list of things I love about my life. I am not an overly positive thinker. I prefer to be pragmatic and downright pessimistic as opposed to looking on the bright side. But I figure that if I post a few things here then I at least have a bit of a record for those days when I’m damn near pouring hot coffee on the person closest to me or when I feel like kicking things, I can at least say that there was that one time – not too long ago – when I actually did enjoy something in my life.

1) My job. I may not like the people 100% of the time but I do love the work I get to do. Like really love it. I say ‘get to do’ because it is this amazing opportunity that I have been given and so I feel honored that it has been bestowed upon me. This is what makes it hard not to throw my hands in the air when things get completely out of control and I want to hide under my desk and scream. Those days I can just take a sick day or a two hour lunch or close my office door and listen to Randy Newman for hours. I also get to go to DC whenever I damn well please and that I have a boss who doesn’t feel compelled to keep me on a leash and question my every decision.

2) I wouldn’t exactly call what I do ‘writing’ but more like ‘creative whining’ and giving my unsolicited advice on a myriad of topics. Either way, I love that I actually get money in return for incessant bitching. I love even more that people care to read it and dare I say like me because of it. It makes me get all Sally Field-like sometimes.

3) I am one of those people who can honestly admit to adoring my friends. I love them. And they are all completely different people who support me in totally different ways. These amazing people in my life who know that I am slightly crazy and over the top and petulant and neurotic and I really like my wine and yet for some equally crazy reason they like me anyway.

4) My family. Even though my mother pissed me the hell off the other day and I didn’t talk to her for like five days and had to be FORCED into going to Martha’s Vineyard for her birthday, I still love her and them. The very special people that they are. Though it’s probably genetic and I’m equally as vicious and without a filter when I’m upset. Ahem.

Like a Superhero

June 16, 2008 | Filed under: This side of the Hudson, Whoopdie Doo

“I always loved running… it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs.” ~Jesse Owens

At some point during the Interminable Break Up of Hell Fire and Doom, probably after I realized that I needed something else besides dairy products to keep my mind off of wanting to kick the shit out of something (Or someone). I needed something else to help channel my anger so that I didn’t feel so consumed by it at all times. There had been these brief moments where I was somewhere between a rock and a hard place on the emotional spectrum. It was a toss up between really fucking sad and really fucking angry. I must say that if there is one thing I can never be faulted for it would be sharing how I really feel; crazy pissed off and all. So while this was going on, I contemplated writing away the rage but that just turned into me sitting and staring at the computer screen and missing deadlines and writing half assed movie reviews. Then I decided to bake but that took up more time and effort and because the light in my kitchen sucks, I could only bake and photograph my process between the hours of 9 and noon when the sun was at a perfect tilt in the sky so it would properly luminate my mixing technique. So I decided to start running.

Though running would be a very generous way of putting what I do when I strap on sneakers and a sports bra. It starts off at a nice little pace and then gradually turns into this half walk trot type thing and I’m pretty sure if you saw me ‘running’ you would start to place bets as to when exactly I would keel over and die. It’s like this awful hop, step type gait thing that kind of makes me look like an animal that got hit with a BB gun but must. keep. going. But in a half assed kind of way. It’s all rather sad and pathetic but it is my new thing. To half trot my way through 5Ks and weekly trail runs.

A few weeks ago I announced on Twitter that I would be going running again. Because look at me! All athletic and shit! If you’ve ever seen me in real life, I’m tall but wide-ish. And I am probably making myself sound really attractive right now but it is what it is. My athleticism is rather non-existent but with the whole half trot thing, I’ve been busting my ass and activity points are activity points, and it doesn’t matter if you look like a deranged and injured fawn while completing the activity. The wonderful Bill Braine tweeted (I hate that word) back that we would run together. To which I said Yeah, sure! While thinking that it would never happen because I would never and could never run with a person who runs, runs. Like for real runs with proper form while I most likely trail along behind him huffing and puffing like an injured animal. Days later he emailed me to suggest that we run a 5K together and again I said yes in hopes that he would promptly forget or that I could make up some reason to be halfway across the country. Of course despite my apprehension of coming in dead last or embarrassing myself in front of someone I’d met once – in a bar, while drunk – I allowed Bill to woo me with promises that he would run with me and that afterwards there would be brunch and mimosas. Then he mentioned mojitos if I came down the evening before. And I was all sign me the hell up because if you want me to do something offer up alcohol and I will be yours. Again, it is what it is and I have no shame.

Now to effectively put you to sleep I will make a ridiculously long story even longer and completely pointless by saying that we ran. Well Bill ran and I did my half limp thing until the very end when I actually did run and then I felt like throwing up in a church parking lot but I had managed to shave 1:30 off of my 5K time in less than a month. So I was on my runner’s high and in a good mood and feeling rather kick ass if I do say so myself even if I did look like a sweaty, limping, round buffoon who probably had no business running and dreaming of mimosas even though I hate champagne but my, wouldn’t it would be refreshing. But instead of mimosas I had the great fortune of babysitting Bill’s children while he and his wife went out which was so not what I was promised at the start of this. Sorry I should say that he and his wife left their very adorable children with me, a person that Bill had met once before while in a bar but I have a blog where I talk about how much I enjoy wine and they enjoy wine so I probably won’t be some psycho serial killer. I will instead be very normal and discuss why Luke’s father is such an important part to the overall Star Wars saga and perhaps promise a five year old that I will watch the other three movies with him. Because I am an emotional lush who is just so damn nice and a giver that way.

And now that this story has gone nowhere fast I will sum it up in 9 words: This weekend was fantastic, cathartic and all around perfect. The other morning, Bill came bounding down the stairs before our run and asked if I felt like a superhero. I said no and he told me that I should feel like one because I am. And while I remain wary of proclaiming myself in top superhero form, I can say that after five long months, I seem to have a bit of my (relative) bad ass back. And not a moment too soon.

One Bad Apple

June 12, 2008 | Filed under: Comes And Goes

“There’s a period of life when we swallow a knowledge of ourselves and it becomes either good or sour inside.”  ~Pearl Bailey

The thing about having one dramatic/traumatic day is that it ends up sucking the life out of the rest of the week such that by the end of it all exertion would be defined as standing up, walking to the refrigerator, finding a beer and prying off the top. And even that requires more concentration than you have.

I’m sitting here singing along to Hairspray and balancing a Heinekin Light on my stomach while The Roommate makes a landmark book; a photo album of sorts of significant moments in her life over the years. As she has been working on this project we have learned that not only did we go to the same elementary school - though she is seven years my senior - we also had the same kindergarten teacher. She’s having a hard time remembering and contemplating resorting to the fluorescent heaven that is MySpace. I am realizing that every significant event since my college graduation has been documented in this space. Both the good and the bad.

It’s June and this year has already been one giant learning experience after another. Some days have been arduous at best where I have seriously thought about jumping in the Hudson and starting over wherever I happen to surface. Then there have been the really great moments where I have been gloriously happy and OK with my decisions because where I have surfaced may not be some perfect tropical island but good enough for me.

So I don’t jump and instead just wait it all out and try my damndest to push the bad days out of the way - to the recesses of my mind - so that they don’t spoil the rest.

Oy and Vey

June 11, 2008 | Filed under: Gruyere With That Wine, Inebriated prose

“There’s nothing that cleanses your soul like getting the hell kicked out of you.” ~Woody Hayes

When I went to bed last night I had already started writing the days events in my head. How would I make an already dramatic turn of events just that much more dramatic that it would make for excellent reading? Over the years my manufacturing of stories to make them a tad bit more interesting has grown by leaps and bounds. Surely not perfect of course but far better than the travesties of yore. Things I won’t even link to for I find them so cringe worthy and sucktastic. But Ok, I will show you but it isn’t pretty and it’s just so damn awful and painful, but here.

So as I laid down last night I was writing and rewriting each conversation and event of the day. Going backwards from my dramatic exit and a day where I consumed more Jack Daniel’s than actual food and the point where I announced that I would quit my job all the way through the start of the day with the deliciously fine firemen of Albany and the hot doctors in the ER. As one can surmise, a lot of shit went down yesterday. And now I’m still in bed at 8:30 AM with every intention of working from home (SPOILER: I did not quit my job. Are you high? It’s like free money) and watching the entirety of the third season of Weeds so that I am fully prepared by Monday.

There is a lesson in all of yesterday. Somewhere, deep down, behind all the anger and the animosity and the hangover. But for now that’s all I’ve got while I play catch up and try to find the perfect words.

Overexposure to Awesome

June 9, 2008 | Filed under: Humdrum

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

There’s a woman who works for Southwest Airlines that boards passengers by having them line up in their designated numerical order for each flight. Since I have an automatic ‘A’ boarding pass which leaves me at the front of the line, we’ve started to exchange smiles and hellos. Her name is Crystal, which I know from conversation and she knows my name is Heather because I see her about two to six times a month.

I see Crystal more often than I see my father.

On Sunday after a very long week of nothing yet everything all wrapped up into a ball of good and normal. Though consider that every other word that has escaped from my lips has been dripping with despondence then my ball o’ good and normal has been relatively awesome. So on Sunday after a rousing day of the movies and grocery shopping in daylight for the first time in a month, I contemplated driving up to my father’s house but then it hit me that if I drove up there I would sit my ass on his couch and finally (and justifiably) pass the hell out.

The passing out was due to exhaustion from all of the nothing and everything and not sleeping and gallivanting around Manhattan because I was having too much fun to go home. This is how I realize that I am completely lacking in the self control department; When I am having a rip roaring good time doing nothing but sitting with my friends, outside while sipping a glass of Prosecco then it’s hard not to want to keep that up and talk for hours and hours and hours and then the clock strikes two and I end up paying for it by sitting on my couch several days later, for four hours straight and drooling.

A few nights ago a friend of mine learned of my blog and she asked what exactly it is that I would blog about since my life seems to be generally devoid of interesting. I sat back and placed my hand on a cold bottle of beer then to the back of my neck to help keep my head from overheating and exploding while I pondered this because it’s an excellent question. I replied that I blog about my life and at first this was a site dedicated to detailing my first years out of college but now it’s an interesting way to look back on how much my life has changed over the last three years. And how insane it is that I have a completely different outlook on life at almost 25 than I did at 21 even though that’s not a lot of time in physical years, it can do wonders for the personality. I also sometimes write stories about stupid stuff that happens and there are a million things I would like to tell the internet about right now like how a door doesn’t operate well without a doorknob and the blatantly racist cab driver on Thursday morning in Manhattan or how thankful I am that I’m not the same bitter bitch that I was in high school.

I swatted at a mosquito and then turned to her and said “But honestly, right at this very second, I am seriously considering a post that goes: ‘It’s so hot that my face just melted off, I have cramps that feel like a Clydesdale is stepping on my uterus and a bug just bit me on the ass.’”

“And people will actually read that shit?”

“Yup!”

That’s the nice thing about having a blog; that while I blather on about everything from the totally fucking awesome to the drop dead boring mundane I have someone to share it with. Even when I’m having a stupid blog crisis (really, it was NOTHING) I like having someone to tell it to who nods in understand right with me. Which is a lot more than most of us could ever hope for.