El Fin

August 5, 2008 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Planes trains and automobiles

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” ~Nelson Mandela

Monday was my first day back in the office after a three week absence.

I’ll give you a moment to think about just how full of love and harmony and pink puffy hearts, I was after those six miraculous hours.

When I planned to do Chicago, San Francisco, New Orleans and Martha’s Vineyard in rapid succession, I pictured myself being strong like a bear and quick like a bunny rabbit. As if there was a magic elixir that would put me on a path towards neverending light and ensconced in forgiveness when surrounded by a grand total of 15,000 people in three weeks. All of them sharing my oxygen like that shit is free and coughing and breathing and smiling in my general direction as if to say “Oh you like to be alive and full of phlegm?! Me too!”

It was a grand scheme that turned into a giant Fail Whale. That has been my favorite phrase since leaving San Francisco. Everything is a FAIL! I use it more than I use “Fuck” in all of it’s forms. Though in a Red Bull induced high I did start saying “Fuck me, FAIL!” so perhaps there is no hope for me. The last day of vacation was horrendous. So horrendous that I cannot discuss it without ending each sentence with “…and then I had to physically restrain myself from choking that man in the middle of the street”. It was an epic disaster that will can only be cured by magical chocolate chip cookies of groveling and forgiveness and perhaps payment for the new tires that were needed because of shitty karma. So I ended that night with rum, vodka, the view of a light house in East Chop and a charming eight year old named Emma.

Emma likes to read and write and I’m pretty sure she’s a Mensa member. I told her that when I was eight I liked to read and write and now people pay me enough money to get my eyebrows done because of my reading and writing so from what I understand, literacy can be a good thing. We even did a little show and tell of the perfect arch of my eyebrows. Then her aunt requested that I write about her on my site and Emma’s face lit up like I said that ponies would fall from the Heavens if she got a mention here. Emma, darling, you’re cute as a button and I’m sorry that a paragraph on my site will not elicit seven million dollars and a new Webkinz but at least someone once publicly said that you are absolutely charming.

The next morning I spent a long drive home on the Massachusetts turnpike wondering why Massachusetts couldn’t inch itself closer to New York. Just a few more miles…yep…to the left…ahh, right there. Nicely situated on top of Lake George. I also contemplated how 24 has been and that when I was eight years old, I pictured 24 being far different than it has turned out to be. Good Lord; I once upon a time envisioned children and a husband at 24. Not a cat that shits everywhere and coming home to three bitches - of the four legged variety - four nights a week, an addiction to Swedish Fish and the breakup from hell.

You know how people have diaries that chronicling the stupidities of their youth to look back on? Ones that require seven keys, a combination code and the oath of office to open? At times I’m both thrilled and utterly terrified that I have shared most every dumb ass, alcohol ridden, mistake of my 20’s publicly. Then again, when I am older and look back on July of my 24th year; the month when I had to spend the entire time around large, anxiety inducing crowds and I never once had to use physical harm on a single person. I imagine that I’ll look back upon that month and see how much restraint I had and realize that was the month that I discovered a little thing called Emotional Growth. I’ll give myself a pat on the back and be thankful that I had witnesses.

Signing up for AARP

August 4, 2008 | Filed under: Humdrum

“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” ~Satchel Paige

Overheard in Best Buy just days after explaining the Dream Team to a seven year old:

“Oh my God! Paul just texted me back to say that he’s sorry. He’s so cute!”

“AWWW. You know, I didn’t know he was so old…”

“Well he is like 21″

If “like 21″ is old then I should be worrying about osteoporsis and my daily fiber intake.

Perhaps I should go to Church for a Sunday morning activity

August 3, 2008 | Filed under: Planes trains and automobiles

“We exaggerate misfortune and happiness alike. We are never as bad off or as happy as we say we are. ” ~Honore de Balzac

Yesterday afternoon I decided to take the train down to Manhattan this morning - Sunday - to meet Metalia and Ali for brunch. It’s been like 28 minutes since I last saw Ali and Metalia huffed and said, “Bitch, I saw you like nine times this spring. I was looking forward to a summer without you“. I also wanted to use all $11 I got from blogging last month to purchase half a shirt and perhaps a hair clip from the H&M on Fifth Avenue.

Not three miles from Albany the train suffered severe engine troubles. So severe that the scruffy, barefoot, hippie sitting next to me thought he was in dire straits so perhaps he should call everyone in his phone to tell them that there was no air conditioning or air circulation or oxygen for that matter, on the train and if this was his last time ever speaking to them again, they should all be aware that he had been up since 4AM and had driven from Plattsburgh and he might die because apparently civilization cannot thrive along the Hudson River and he had run out of Patchouli.

After two and half hours spent six miles from my house, we were brought back to the station and I had given up hope on a peaceful brunch where Ali and I could reenact BlogHer for Metalia. Including the part where I cried and drank wine out of a paper cup. When I got out to the parking lot, I looked down at my front left tire and noticed that it was low. Incredibly low. Like gasping for air and saying “Take me now!” kind of low. As an aside, I love that when something very obvious is wrong with a vehicle and so everyone at every stop light and street corner (damn, those hookers are so kind!) feels the need to point out that your tire is low so perhaps you should check that shit out.

Anyway, when I saw the tire, I sat down on the ground in a freshly dry cleaned white dress with pockets. And then The Universe, stuck a perfectly manicured finger out at me and said, “Yippie-kay-yay, motherfucker” and laughed.

True story.

The Boys Are Back In Town

August 1, 2008 | Filed under: The object of my obsession, This side of the Hudson, Whoopdie Doo

“Football is, after all, a wonderful way to get rid of your aggressions without going to jail for it.”  ~Heywood Hale Brown

The other night, G called to tell me that he saw Plaxico Burress in Best Buy. After I stopped convulsing and telling Metalia & J that oh my fucking God, Plax shops at Best Buy and I shop at Best Buy and perhaps I’ll run into him at JCREW; I asked the all important question: What did he buy? Like 20 DVDs and he used a Black Card. Then G told him that this was Cowboys country and I told G that perhaps he shouldn’t disrespect our guests.

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.