Archive for the 'Whoopdie Doo' Category

Wearing Shades

July 30, 2008 | Filed under: Fotografias, Va-cay-cay-cay, Whoopdie Doo

“Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.” ~Sam Keen

Winter heading into spring was hard. Terribly, gut wrenching, heartbreakingly difficult. To the point where it physically hurts to allow my mind go back to March or April. I’ve been pretty good at keeping my bipolar cycles at bay and not projecting them onto the world every few months which is something I’ll discuss in the near future. But some days were far more difficult than others and to have it all exacerbated by being so fucking livid and feeling like a failure; well that made me the most wonderful person to be around ever. That fire that was shooting out of my eyeballs was actually cotton candy rolled around rainbows.

I was standing in the water today in Aquinnah and I said in a sing-song voice “My future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades”. And my mother looked at me and asked what I was talking about for apparently she spent 1987 busy or something trying to keep me from choking the hell out of my baby brother. Anyway, let’s just say I’ve been going between some kick ass aviators and the most absurd, but they totally work, pink sunglasses for a few weeks now.

Speaking of Aquinnah and vacation. Here’s how it’s been thus far or at least from where I see it:

Me: Do you want to go hiking and take photos?

La Madre: Hell no.

Me: Do you want to go kayaking for a few hours?

La Madre: Fuck no.

Me: Do you want to wave jump and be sucked down by giant swells and get sand in your crotch?

La Madre: Ok, I was never going to tell you this, but you’re adopted.

Fight and Flight

June 30, 2008 | Filed under: Va-cay-cay-cay, Whoopdie Doo

“The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes.” ~William James

Last weekend my brother, mother and I ventured out to Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend. This will probably not be the most pretentious thing I have ever said but dear Lord, I am so thankful for my mother’s second mortgage on an ISLAND. It’s why every time I step off the ferry I feel the need to kiss the ground then tell my mother how nicely her hair frames her face.

One evening G and I were walking around and he took this deep breath and said that he feels better here. Without the congestion and constant ambient noise and the yelling over the din of sirens every 14 seconds, it’s so damn peaceful. And once you get over the tiny army men that have been deployed to battle your sinuses, it really is lovely.

I returned home so full of love, flowers and happiness that by Monday I gave a shit about nothing. Not in an apathetic way but when shit hit the fan every single day last week, I didn’t get upset or irate or threaten to quit or even threaten violence. I was totally chill. Like being on Martha’s Vineyard turned the LOSE YOUR SHIT switch in my brain to the off position. I shrugged my shoulders when met with adversity and handled things the way normal people handle bullshit that they can’t help; with class and a modicum of dignity.

By Friday, when I normally would have been ready to toss my body in front of an oncoming vehicle, I laughed because the absurdity of the entire week was just so fucking funny. I was literally powerless towards everything that was thrown at me during the week. And because I couldn’t fight it – one cannot be responsible for the stupidity and general harsh behavior of others – I went to Denver for a faux vacation.

As I’m thinking of it now, I’m pretty sure that my relative calm was because my week was sandwiched by two weekends of tranquility. Denver is another one of those places that prides itself on its placidity and full of the nicest people who are less than aware that in two months their city is going to be swarmed by several thousand people. In fact I found their naivety towards the rampage of self-important people to be downright charming.

The added bonus to my past travels and the travel that is to come over the next 60 days is that in every city I go to someone greets me with open arms. During this trip to Denver Aimee and Julie were ever the most gracious hosts. With Aimee pointing me towards sushi restaurants in Cherry Creek so that I wouldn’t have to go through withdrawal from my eel sashimi addiction. And Julie being…well…Julie. If you’ve ever met the woman you know what I mean; you know those people who are just nice? That’s how Julie is all I can think is “Oh my God, is it possible to be that fucking nice?”

Last night while Aimee was putting her son to bed, Bryan, her husband, and I played the WII. I had eyed it earlier in the evening and had to keep myself from telling Aimee that while it was nice of her to invite everyone over for dinner, I would rather sit down here and play tennis against myself. Bryan and I golfed and then boxed. After I had thrown my entire body into protecting my Mii from any oncoming left hooks thus rendering me covered in a film of sweat, he mentioned that you don’t really need to put so much effort into the WII. In fact you would get the same results by gently maneuvering your body while sitting on a couch with a cold beer but flinging yourself around just gives it that added authenticity.

I return to Denver in two months at the very end of a 60 day slug fest with my senses. Bryan and Aimee have already offered me an opportunity to come over and box the shit out of the air to get out the aggression that will have eaten me alive and spit me back out by then. So while I like to give myself a generous pat on the back and tell myself that I’m handling so much shit so well and my, do I look gorgeous today; I am pretty well aware that this is just the calm before the storm. But unlike every other time when the clouds roll in (just to keep up with the analogy) this time I feel a little bit more prepared; like I have my umbrella nearby.

A Mile High*

June 29, 2008 | Filed under: Fotografias, Inebriated prose, Va-cay-cay-cay, Whoopdie Doo

*The thing about being literally a mile high is that one beer = two shots of tequila. So y’all should know that I wrote this while under the influence. I would apologize but you know me. 

“A man is not idle because he is absorbed in thought. There is a visible labor and there is an invisible labor” ~Victor Hugo

I never mentioned this but about two years ago I had to have a serious Come to Jesus discussion with myself about moving to Denver. I didn’t of course, since I now live in Upstate NY. But I still like to think about how my life would have been if I had decided to make the trek. I am in Denver for the weekend and I will be back in a few months. There are stories to come. A lot of ‘what if’s’ but I am happy with my decision. It’s like sliding doors though; I wonder what would have happened or could have happened if, back then (at the ripe old age of 22), I had decided to leap.

HRH Greeblemonkey took this photo a few nights ago. I think it pretty much sums me up in all of my smiley, edamame loving glory.

Also check out my eyebrows. For those wondering what I spend my ad revenue monies on it is on transforming my unibrow into two separate eyebrows that don’t look like mating caterpillars. And for that I thank you all.

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.

For now

June 3, 2008 | Filed under: Whoopdie Doo

“What matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it”. ~Ezra Pound

I will write a more extensive post in regards to politics come Thursday or Friday but for now I shall leave you with this:

My father is from Birmingham, Alabama. He grew up there during the dead heat of the Civil Rights Movement. It was to the point where he stopped reading Jet magazine because they put a full spread of Emmett Till in their centerfold and then when I saw those photos I didn’t sleep for months because I thought someone might do the same to me*.

Tonight a black man became the presumptive nominee for the presidency from the Democratic party. My father called me and his usually snarky tone in regards to my short game in golf was replaced by tears and seriousness because he honest to God never thought he would ever live to see this day.

*I was eight at the time and I insisted that I see what he looked like when he died and then I did and I cried. IN FRONT OF HIS MOTHER none the less.