I've got a crush on ... ME!

Sticking Around Pays Off

2011-11-24T15:20:00.000-05:00

In January I will turn 50. Some people hesitate to divulge that sort of information, 29, 39 or 49 and holding are fairly popular 'ages'. For me 50 is a miracle and I am insanely excited to see it happen. For someone who was preoccupied with thoughts of suicide for a very large portion of my life achieving 50 is an incredible accomplishment and I am incredibly grateful that I've gotten to 49 and 10 months (Woot!) so far.

I haven't posted much because I've just been busy living, going through 'normal' ups and downs but always happy to still be here. Last night something happened that may seem fun but not a huge deal to someone else, but to me was a very big reward for sticking around. Little background:

For my 18th birthday my high school boyfriend (a really wonderful guy) and I went to see Evita on Broadway. I had gone through my first major Depression (first of many to come) just a few months before, I was looking forward to beginning college, majoring in theatre and I was crushing hard on one of the few musicals that really appealed to me. I was also crushing on seeing Mandy Patinkin as Che. The show was great, really truly great. Patti Lupone kicked ass like nothing I'd ever seen and overall it was a wonderful experience, except for one thing. We had ordered the tickets well in advance and it never occurred to us, it was unthinkable, but Mandy Patinkin was not in the show! An announcement was made at the top that night was the first night of the new Che. Mandy had his final performance the night BEFORE we went! It was a bitter blow, but the show was pretty damned wonderful so... you know... it was okay... but still. It's something that has always stayed with me, that I missed seeing that magic of Patti & Mandy together in that show and that I missed it by a single day.

Well this is where sticking around pays off. These two wonderful performers are together on Broadway right now - and last night I got to see them with my very best friend, Gary. He actually got the tickets, bless him. They did a couple of songs from Evita, so in some way I finally DID get to see them together in Evita* - it just took a little over 30 years to happen. The thing that rocks my head is that I could have missed this too! If I'd taken my life as I'd planned (just around this time of year in 2004) I would have missed this. It's not something I ever thought about 'might happen', it certainly wasn't something I was wishing would happen. But what a wonderful surprise, reinforcing the truth that you just never know what is around the corner. Living is the only way to find out what wonders might come next, and I think turning 50 is going to be freakin' awesome!

Gary and I try to grab some Patti & Mandy glory

*Mandy sang "Oh What a Circus" and holy shit, it was fantastic. So I finally do forgive him for leaving Evita the night before I saw it, I'm sure he's relieved. ;)

True Blood: Kristin Bauer PSA (HBO)

2011-07-25T17:00:00.001-04:00

I could not agree more. It gets better. It really, really does.

You know, it really is just like riding a bike

2011-07-09T19:38:00.014-04:00

I have wanted a bike for years. I kept putting off getting one because, I suppose, I was just plain scared. Bicycles and I have had... let's say an interesting relationship.

Growing up in the 'burbs, you know where kids get to 'play outside' and 'ride their bikes' and so forth, you'd think I was riding a bike my entire childhood. Not so. So very not so. With bizarrely overprotective yet uninterested parents I finally taught myself to ride a 'two-wheeler' at the tender age of twelve; on the sly and with many mishaps. The whole sad story is here, should anyone want the details.

In spite of a fairly non-biking life in the land of 'safe for kids', I really WANTED to ride. I despise stationary bikes and rarely will deign to use them at the gym (unless I want to knit while I'm doing it). But a real bike? Oh yes, please!

Of course as with most everything I've done, and will likely continue to do in my life, I've been ass-backwards. When it was relatively safe to have and ride a bike I was not allowed to, now that I'm approaching 50.... O.M.G. FIFTY!!!! I finally bought a bike, to ride in the not-so-safe streets of New York City. Yup. Well played Joy, well played!

I got the bike about a month ago, a Schwinn cruiser, single speed, coaster brakes thank you (I can't rely on my hands for the brakes so it's the safest choice for me). Picked this little beauty up at Target (of all places!) for a steal. The lock cost as much as the bike did.

A lot of people asked how I got it home. Well... um... I rode it. Which seems obvious, but given that it had been at least 15 years since I last rode a bike it's really not that strange a question. Target is a good 40+ blocks from my apartment (translation about 2 miles) and riding a bike for the first time in more than a decade in city traffic does indeed sound daunting, if not foolhardy. But I plotted out my trip before I bought it and there is a very lovely, very safe little thing called the NYC Greenway which runs around the island of Manhattan and just happens to be a convenient route from Target to me! This is a shot from the 120th Street overpass leading to the Greenway.I did actually walk the bike on the sidewalks when I got off the Greenway, which felt wimpy but I think given my shaky bike skillz (hey, I nearly ran down a pigeon... poor thing looked as scared as I was) walking it part of the way seemed a wise decision.

The other thing, aside from abject terror, that kept me from getting a bike for so long was, and I know this is such a holdover from my childhood, the 'dorky' helmet. There is no way I would ride without one, I'm far too clumsy to risk that kind of insanity. I walk into walls on a regular basis... actually, wearing a helmet all the time might be a good ... no, I'm not going there. But seriously I did kind of worry about looking silly - total jr. high taunting memories. Finally I just said the hell with it, and got a helmet - so I could get the bike and ride it home without splitting my skull.

Typically I think I worried for nothing. A helmet is just a hat really, and I've always done well with hats. I got a blue one because the advert for the bike at Target showed a blue one. Ended up being red. Ah well, there's a symmetry there as the first bike I ever rode was also red. Everything old is new again, as they say.

The first few rides were extremely tentative and either on the Greenway or in Central Park with much sidewalk bike walking when I didn't feel confident. But as I get braver I'm hitting the streets more and more frequently and feeling more at ease about it. Buses however can frighten me right up onto the sidewalks again. They be BIG those buses!

Yesterday I decided I needed running socks. Yes, there are such things and they are a huge help when running more than a few miles. Cotton socks just invite blisters. I got the bike out and headed to The Running Company which meant I needed to use Streets and Avenues. Big scary avenues. And I did it! Yes, I still walked the sidewalks a bit but wouldn't you if you were on a bike going down Lexington Avenue when a car decided to barrel through - the wrong way? Not a half-hearted "whoopsie wrong way" - which does happen from time to time, the mistaken drivers sheepishly turning around - but a full on "YAHOO I'm crazy and driving the wrong way on a one-way 4 lane Avenue - and I'm heading straight for that clumsy chick on the red bike!!!" And he really was gunning for me. Nice.

Yeah, the sidewalk seemed safer... though given crazy-man's driving I don't know if safer was actual safe. But it was the best alternative.

Despite that little scare, I got to the store, got my Body Glide and fancy-pants new socks in under 4 minutes and when I went out to my bike (which was still there-hurray!) there were five people standing around it... whaaaa? Seems they were admiring it. Go figure. As I got it unlocked a man passed and looking at it longingly said, "really nice bike." Again, go figure. But of course I was pleased, it is kind of cute. (It was also crazy cheap, always a plus.)

Going home I had planned to take the Greenway from 63rd Street home, but since there is construction blocking the section I would need to go through, and exit, I ended up coming off the Greenway early and taking First Avenue home. There's a bike lane on First and it seriously takes the pressure off in terms of having to ride close to parked cars and risk being doored. A long-time bike riding friend advised me strongly to avoid riding near cabs for the same reason. Good advice - people fling their doors open without looking. I'm surprised there aren't more cabs with doors missing because of it.

All this is a long way around to show off some pictures I took on the Greenway/esplanade, shots of a place I've never seen before and I was thrilled by the view. This city is a never-ending surprise. I just love it. I think I'm going to love it all the more from my perch on two wheels.

All the Living Creatures in the World

2010-12-19T17:07:00.002-05:00

I am not a fan of organized religion. I think I may have actually begun other posts with that very sentence. But today I was in a church. Go figure.

I honestly can't remember the last time I was in a church. I usually find being in a church a bizarre combination of nostalgia, creepiness and heartbreak. It's because of how firmly and devoutly I BELIEVED when I was a kid. It was all REAL and it all meant something to me. After my first communion it all started going down hill between me and the church (Catholic). The first hit came when I found out I would never be allowed to serve mass because I'm the 'wrong' gender. I pulled myself together from that blow and decided 'Okay, nun it is.' but I was still annoyed. Then the list of things that ruined the magic and pulled back the curtain on the whole thing (religion in specific, God in general) grew and I'm not going to enumerate them here. Too yawn inducing.

I've been to services of other faiths and was always surprised by how different they were from the old school Catholicism. In a good way mostly. But it was never enough to change my mind about the whole operation or re-instill my beliefs. Today I went to a Methodist church (first for me) because they were having a Blessing of the Animals this afternoon and I thought it might be interesting. I've also had some very pleasant dealings with people who work at this church because one of my walks is nearby and someone will always run inside the church and come back out with treats for the dogs. Right there they got me. Any church that keeps cookies for the passing pooches is okay in my book. So I figured I'd give it a shot today.

Well it was really sweet! First thing that threw my head into 'explode' mode was the fact that there were two pastors and they were BOTH WOMEN! Yes. That's right. And they were DOING the service. Because (surprise-surprise) there was an actual service. I don't know what I was thinking, I figured we'd walk in, someone would say "bless you" to Gemma and that would be that. Nope. Singing, praying, Gospel stuff and Christmas Carols! Hello? I was a little upset that I was in for a 'mass'... but the entire thing was "Animals! GO!" and I can get behind that sort of show.

I got choked up. I sniffled. I could have started weeping but I held the tears back, God I'm such a wuss. But it was really lovely and kind and pretty and there was music and the place was filled with dogs. (Plus, you know, signs with my name on them. Christmas time = Joy stuff every where you go.) It made me, as churches do, miss what I used to believe in so fervently. It made me miss my belief in magic. But it was also nice to be in that environment, even without the belief, to be there without the disdain I usually feel. And I give credit for that to the fact that there were dogs every where. Because we all know what GOD spelled backwards is, don't we? That's right. And that's my kind of church.

Happy Halloween!

2010-10-31T20:02:00.008-04:00

A little late perhaps, but technically it's still Halloween, so.... okay it's late.

I've been battling a lingering cold, walking dogs, editing podcasts and walking more dogs. There's a lot of poop in my life. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

My newest addition, little Gemma, has been wearing her Halloween costume for 3 days - it suits her and she seems to like wearing it. Today alone no less than a dozen people took her photo on the street, yesterday a man stopped his car to hop out and shoot her paparazzi-style.

A total stranger saw me taking photos of her and insisted I let her take a shot of us together. I don't much like having my photo taken, especially first thing in the morning when I'm out walking the dog and haven't even washed my face yet, but I did it any way.

I'm shocked that I was smiling and Gemma was not.

Look at me, I've got bows AND a hat!

This is her glamour shot for sure.

When you only have three teeth, Witch is an easy costume.

A very busy Witch walks with a purpose!

This is sooo not me.

I tried it on Basil but it looked more Pilgrim than Witch on him. Basil, the Puritan. Hmmm.

Gary and I have been recording podcasts like crazy and have two special Halloween 'casts up. Part I and Part II - together they amount to 40 minutes of Halloween stories. A new podcast on Speakeasies will be up tomorrow, it runs a lighter 11 minutes. If you listen, we'd love to hear what you think about them!

I was so busy this past week that I didn't even take time to write about my Happy Day Anniversary. Six years now! SIX! When I look around my life and how happy I am every day (even when I feel sick, or blue, I'm still happy) I am so grateful that I was so lucky on October 27, 2004 and that I started taking my meds and that I am here, alive and no longer suicidal. It's always a shock to me that I can feel this good when six years ago I was ready to throw it all away. On the morning of my Happy Day I couldn't wipe the smile off my face, until I stopped and had a few minutes cry remembering how horrible everything felt back then. Then I mopped up and the smile was back - it's good to be alive. So good.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

New Podcast - On Topic

2010-10-06T06:27:00.003-04:00

Gary and I have finally managed to put up the next Podcast - our editor was under the weather. We discuss suicide from our points of view.

Gay Teen Suicide: Resources for LGBTQ Teens, Their Families, & Friends | The New York Public Library

2010-10-02T06:33:00.000-04:00

Gay Teen Suicide: Resources for LGBTQ Teens, Their Families, & Friends | The New York Public Library

PSA: A Message for Teenagers

2010-09-21T08:40:00.003-04:00

I began this blog to try, in however small a way, to be an example that you can overcome Depression and a strong desire for suicide and you can be really, truly happy. Sometimes I forget to put that message out there in straight language because I'm so busy just 'being'. But this morning I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts (hellloooo I love my obsessions!) and got a stark and very sad reminder that despite my ongoing recovery there are many, many people who are in that dark and horrible place where I once was and sometimes they don't get the kind of miracle lightbulb moment that I was supremely lucky to get.

A 15-year old boy in Indiana took his own life earlier this month. He was gay, he was bullied and sadly his despair won out. While I would normally never think I would have much in common with a 15-year old kid in Indiana it seems we did have something profound in common: hopelessness. I was lucky, I met someone whose story gave me the spark of hope I needed to finally take my medication and change my life. This boy was not so lucky.

Dan Savage, who if you have not heard of him, is a sex advice columnist; it was his podcast was I was listening to this morning, has started a youtube channel to help give other kids (and maybe adults too) that spark of hope that no matter how bleak and hopeless things are: they DO get better. The video and link to the channel is below. I hope if anyone reading this watches this video and feels they can contribute that they will do so. The ITGETSBETTERPROJECT channel is specifically geared to the LGBT community so I don't suppose my story would qualify, but if you're reading this and your story does, I hope you will make a video, submit it and spread the word. Because it really DOES get better, and sometimes when you're so deep in despair you just can't believe that - unless you hear it from someone who is living it.

"If you're gay or lesbian, or bi or trans, and you've ever read about a kid like Billy Lucas and thought, "Fuck, I wish I could've told him that it gets better," this is your chance. We can't help Billy, but there are lots of other Billys out there—other despairing LGBT kids who are being bullied and harassed, kids who don't think they have a future—and we can help them..."

Ooooh another one!

2010-09-08T16:21:00.010-04:00

A second podcast of What Do You Know. This time we talk about Volunteerism, and of course that leads us to the Brownies and the Cub Scouts. Even a little hint of organized religion, though Gary wisely didn't let me get on my soap box. But it's coming folks, it's a-comin'!

In the meantime please listen to the podcast while you enjoy this oh so happy photo of me as a Brownie with my Mother in her Assistant Leader ensemble. Note my delighted expression. If you can enlarge it enough you can see the despair in my 8 year old eyes. I should have borrowed my Mom's super cool shades, eh? Oooh and I'm also wearing my not-so-Brownie gladiator sandals. I loved those things. They had a brass plate on the vamp. I was so freakin' ahead of my time...

Blogging... Podcasting...

2010-09-04T08:26:00.007-04:00

I just haven't had a big urge to write in months and months. Some of this has to do with my glasses. Huh? My eyes are bad, bad, bad. When I was in elementary school the school nurse did eye tests and told me I qualified as Legally Blind. I think that might have been a bit heavy handed as 30+ years later I have yet to hear that phrase again as applies to me, but it gives you an idea of how coke-bottle like my glasses would be (without the invention of lightweight plastics). This means I need glasses to do pretty much anything. I have old pairs stashed all over the apartment in case I can't find the current pair because seriously without my glasses on I cannot find my glasses. Catch-22 anyone?

At least once a year I need a new prescription, and because my glasses cost a small fortune, literally, I have 'cleverly' put off re-upping for a year. This has been a really stupid mistake. Not my first, not my last I'm sure. It has curtailed my ability to read for more than 15 minutes at a clip, holding a book about an inch from my eyes causes eye and hand strain. Ouch. If I'm not reading, I'm not writing either. They pretty much go together.

Not being able to read has been a real loss to me, but I found an alternative. Audio books. Yay! And in searching for those I found I really love Podcasts. I'm a little bit addicted. The How Stuff Works poddies are terrific and since I'm a geek I'm also listening to Wil Wheaton's podcasts, as well as a slew of others.

About a month ago I finally sucked it up and had an eye exam and got new specs. Online, for a fraction of what I normally pay and in fact got 3 pair for less than I would typically pay for one pair - do I love me some internet or what? Oh yeah.

But before the new glasses arrived Gary was over one evening and we decided we'd throw down, try our hand at Podcasting and see how it went. We recorded a couple back at the end of June and will be doing more in the coming weeks. We're calling the Podcast "What Do You Know?" and that's explained in the here. I hope you like it. We had fun doing it.

Coincidence

2010-07-29T08:15:00.003-04:00

I haven't written a thing on this blog in so long I almost forgot it existed. But today a friend (thank you James!) tipped me off that my 'husband' had been on Letterman last night so I decided to check it out. I'm posting the clip here because I find it hilariously freaky, as well as reassuring, that someone else also had a bunny with 'tude. Serious 'tude. The fact that it's Michael Keaton is even more hilarious to me since I got my name from him.

Backing up. About a million years ago when I was still acting and using my ridiculously long and vowel filled legal last name I had a dream about Michael Keaton. I was not a fan, hadn't followed his career or really thought about him much at all at the time. In fact I will suck it up and admit that I was one of the many naysayers who moaned when he was cast to play Batman for the first time. (I changed my tune in the first 5 minutes of the movie, because I can admit when I'm wrong. Very wrong.) So when I had this outrageous dream out of the blue that I was MARRIED to Michael Keaton (me, who has NO desire to marry ANYONE - EVER) I was perplexed and couldn't stop trying to analyze what the hell it could mean.

I mentioned this crazy dream to Gary who said quite succinctly: "Maybe that should be your stage name. Joy Keaton." And there it was. I really love the way it sounds and how easy it is for people to spell = and how short it is (my legal name only has something like 725 letters... *sigh*)

When I watched this clip and heard that 'my husband' had a bunny like my Henry Miller... well, it got me blogging again. At least for the moment.

A Great Idea

2010-05-21T06:40:00.002-04:00

Truth be told the Tourists don't bother me so much, I get it, they're on vacation "ooh look at that" is just going to happen. If there was a way to make a lane for slow-moving, three abreast and stroller pushing New Yorkers who should know better now THAT would really make me happy. But it's a start and it's a polite way of doing it.

For St. Patrick's Day

2010-03-17T07:49:00.004-04:00

Thank you Tina Fey!

Happy Bobsled to you all!

BFF

2010-03-07T12:24:00.004-05:00

In keeping with the origin of this blog, and my love of Hamlet.... Please enjoy!

Many thanks to Gary for forwarding this wonderful piece to me! Kisses honey!

Theme Thursday - Surface

2010-01-14T00:01:00.009-05:00

On the surface this is a photo of a woman (in a skirted bathing suit) floating alone in a pool at twilight. And that's not incorrect. But what it really is, what is below the surface is a revelry of freedom and courage and an assertion of independence previously thought impossible by that same floater.

What seems simple is not always so. To arrive at a place of seeming simplicity can take tremendous effort, the assistance of others, a soul shaking amount of dammit-all courage.

This photograph was taken the day I learned to swim.

I was 45 years old.

When I was a child I was preoccupied by mermaids. My fantasies were about being one, I collected them, I wanted quite badly to be one. The hold up on that particular wish fulfillment was the fact that I was terrified of the water - because I could not swim and in fact on two occasions nearly drowned (or thought I nearly drowned - same thing to a panic stricken kid).

Perhaps my desire to be a mermaid stemmed from the fact that they could breathe underwater, and they could, of course, swim. Ya think?

There was a lot of water in my life as a child, it was unavoidable. Did I mention I grew up on an island? The irony is not lost on me. Not only were trips to the beach fairly frequent but everyone in my neighborhood had a swimming pool. The damned H2O was EVERYWHERE! And while I loved being in it, splashing around, just moving through it - feet firmly on the ground, head well above it - I never felt completely at ease because one slip, one push could send me under it and kill me. I knew instinctively that nobody would rush to my aid if I fell beneath the surface, not only because of my trust issues but because EVERYONE knew how to swim and assumed that I could as well. Because a kid who grows up on an island, surrounded by swimming pools, must certainly know how to swim and if that kid flails and/or stays under for a little too long why they are simply fooling around. But Joy don't play that.

So I stayed dry far more than I liked.

Until I was taught to swim and to float - like a mermaid. So what you see on the surface may look like nothing special, look again, it might be the biggest event in someone's life.

Birthday

2010-01-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's my birthday!

Okay, cut the applause. Thanks.

For my own amusement I pulled this short clip from old home movies. This is the one and only time you'll get to see me nekkid.... well... most of you any way. Not exactly what Neely O'Hara was referring to, but it made me laugh. I hope it does the same for you.

My Dog has always had... issues

2010-01-08T07:08:00.004-05:00

Basil has always been a special kind of dog - I say this not just because he is mine and I love him beyond words - but because it's true. He is gifted with a mighty personality and a sense of humor that is, I admit it, a little frightening sometimes. Because I am often the butt of that humor. I have witnesses.

In searching for a picture for a friend I came across this little video clip. I don't know how he managed this, but I'm so glad I have a record of it because you don't often see a dog in this sort of attire.

Theme Thursday - Polka Dots

2010-01-07T21:14:00.008-05:00

I have been swamped with work (walkin' the doggies) and obsessing on Doctor Who. I haven't had the energy, nor felt the inclination, to drone on about either here. Well, I haven't felt the urge to write much of anything really, and so I haven't.

Last night the ol' ball and chain (a/k/a BFF Gary) sent me an email to check his latest blog post which is part of a Theme Thursday posting. So I popped over and read it. You can read it here.

It spured me on to finding and scanning in some old photos of myself dressed in the subject of the Theme Thursday: Polka Dots.

This is a scan of a polaroid from the early 80s so it's not in the best shape, but I think the dots are obvious. Not only the skirt and blouse but my bag, shoes, earrings and bracelet were all black & white polka dots. I love me some dots and moderation was never my strong suit. Certainly not back then, not in wardrobe.

Since Gary had mentioned Minnie Mouse in his post I was delighted to find the following photos, which I promptly scanned and posted on Facebook where they raised some questions, so now I feel compelled to post here and answer those questions.

Here then are the photos.

The reason I am dressed as Mini-Mouse is because it was my job at the time. In the 1980s I worked for a party company and dressed up (not just Miss Mouse, but a whole slew of cartoon characters as well as clowns and gorillas and such) and attended children's parties, store openings, weddings, bar mitzvahs, the usual. (oh tell me you haven't done it!)

The reason I'm in these somewhat fetishized poses is because my mother was living in Bayside, Queens in the basement apartment of a woman who just LOVED Mickey and Minnie Mouse. One day when I was going to work a party nearby I stopped in to show her the costume. Because yes, I'm an attention whore. She hauled out the camera and asked me to pose all over her house - and why would I say no?

When she asked me to pose in the kitchen it brought back so many familial memories of happy times (a-hem) that I insisted on having a bottle of liquor at hand.

Ahhhh, now that's homey!

Holiday Greetings... from the past

2009-12-25T13:41:00.004-05:00

The plastic-faced pink monkey is long gone, but the plastic-faced Santa is still with me.

Tell a friend :: Oxfam America Unwrapped

2009-12-13T13:39:00.001-05:00

Tell a friend :: Oxfam America Unwrapped

I only wish I could dance like this!

2009-11-09T19:27:00.001-05:00

Seriously, NYC get out and Vote!

2009-11-03T07:07:00.003-05:00

Mike Bloomberg is disgraceful. His blatant disregard for the laws of this city are a clear indication of his character. Term limits are there for a reason.

And once more into the breach...

2009-11-02T09:34:00.003-05:00

It's November and that means that once more I'm going to attempt NaNoWrimo. I did it once back in '04 and have failed bitterly since, but undaunted (well... slightly daunted) I'm going for it again. How the hell I'm going to manage running 3 miles a day, walking the dogs at insane hours, and writing 50,000 words in one month is beyond me. But one thing is sure - it means there will be lots more blog posts here as I procrastinate. Endlessly. If nothing else it will give me one more thing to stress over, which is going to be really nice for my dentist as I'm sure I will be grinding my teeth twice as much as normal. Wheee! My poor night guard takes a beating, I am shocked it's still in one piece. And it also means I'll actually pull some posts together here, which will also be nice; especially since I have let things slide to the point of barely having a blog at all any more.

I haven't been writing much of anything any where for months, not even boring tidbits in my handwritten journal. Partly because my schedule is crazy, partly because my hands have been p.a.i.n.i.n.g. me something fierce, and partly because I feel like I haven't had a helluva lot to say. Maybe that's a good thing, it might actually mean I'll have something to say for this 'novel'.

But now I have to go do some other sort of procrastination - I think I might clean the windows! The beauty of procrastination: a clean apartment.

Okay, you can stop holding your breath now

2009-09-24T09:13:00.001-04:00

I know you were turning blue waiting for these photos. And even though I don't have a cohesive narrative to go with them, cohesiveness having flown out the door along with any and all my free time, I'm posting them so you can see how beeee-uuuuu-teee-fullll it was.

Mexico I mean.

But first, a little test. From the airplane window I saw this cloud formation. I saw something very clearly. Take a look. See anything?

Click on it, make it bigger. Look again.

If you see clouds. Okay, I'll give you that. But if you see GODZILLA then you are correct! Yes people, Godzilla my favorite, your favorite, Tokyo's favorite radiation imbued dinosaur-cum- guy in a rubber suit with a zipper down the back. Now for me that bode well. I really love me some Gojira.

Then the coastline coming into the Cancun airport. Oooooh preeeeety.

And here is the lobby of the Catalonia Playa Maroma, or as I like to call it: the preliminary artwork for my new living room. I'm not sure how my landlord is going to react to me digging through the floor for the fountain pools, but I think it's going to look nifty.

the main entrance & lobby

fountains and my new couch

Now on to my little room.....

the view from the front door

through the windows of the back porch

and the view from the porch

Gilligan, get the Professor I want to make a coconut phone!

Now for the interior:

the scary/cool thing about this room is that the color scheme is EXACTLY what I have at home now. I mean exactly. Of course this is a king-sized bed and I only have a full... but if I could knock out a wall in my bedroom I'd have a king. I really, really would. I'd love it. The landlord, again, probably not so much. But let's take a look at the bathroom, shall we? Four of my current bathrooms could fit in here. Yes, I measured.

I always love a little towel origami with my mini-shampoos.

But my favorite feature? The coffee maker.

I'll continue later, for now take a walk with me from the room to the main pathway. the first image is the back of the room - the porch area, then we walk. Listen to the lovely sounds.

Back to NYC...

2009-09-12T21:07:00.006-04:00

*sigh*

I got back from Mexico on Friday evening. My morning was all blue skies and warm weather, my evening was bleak, raining, cold and just plain grey.

Welcome back.

Luckily I took tons of pictures (and video) and looking at them makes me forget (sorta) just how dismal the weather is here. It also makes me want to book a flight back for tomorrow... but that's just not possible. Besides, I missed my dog.

My dog, however, did not seem to miss me. Okay, maybe a little. But he seemed to really have a good time entertaining his 'guests' and I don't blame him - Miss Trixie and her Mom are just plain fun. Plus Basil always likes having his lil' Cousin Trixie around.

I was full of perkiness last night but not the kind that makes any sort of writing possible. Unfortunately now I'm feeling the effects of too little sleep yesterday and the drastic weather change is making me sleepy too. So I'm not going to say much about my lovely trip right now. Instead I give you this little taste of a typical day.

And believe me: there's a story to go with these guys. Isn't there always?

My bag is packed, I'm ready to ... Adios

2009-09-06T06:56:00.000-04:00

Considering how infrequently I've been posting it might seem odd to post a 'won't be posting this week' post. (And how many times CAN you put the word 'post' in one post?) But that's what this is.

I'm heading to Mexico this morning and won't even be looking at a computer for the next week. In fact I doubt I'll be doing anything other than reading, swimming, taking photos and nursing my stuffed up head.

Yup. Two days ago I got hit with an intense head cold... or maybe it's allergies. (yeah). I've been self-medicating homeopathically which has offered some relief, but at midnight last night I headed to the drugstore and got some good old-fashioned head clearing poison. Because you know what's worse than being stuffed up while you're stuffed in a plane? Um... being stuffed up in a plane that's LANDING.

I've had that ear splitting pain once before (Las Vegas to San Francisco - ungodly pain) and I have done everything and anything since then to avoid having it happen again. So I'm nasal-spraying and neti-potting, and decongestant-popping before I go anywhere near that airport. Then I have special ear plugs that help deflect some of the pressure. I go to great lengths to avoid the 'ouch'. It better work. If it doesn't I'm going to really annoy the kid sitting behind me kicking my seat by screaming blue murder during the landing.

How do I know there is a bratty kid in the seat behind me when I haven't even left the house yet? Because. I know these things. But I'll take that over the earache any day of the week.

Well. Almost any day.

If my head doesn't unstuff naturally at some point on this trip I'm going to be very, very unhappy. Because it will mean I can't smell anything. One of the things I love best about Mexico, and I'm sure this will sound strange, but it's the smell. Mexico, or at least the Yucatan, has a scent all its own, it's kind of a woody/earthy fresh smell. I'm sure it must be from some combination of indigenous trees and plants or something, and I know I sound like a dog who learned to speak English here, but it smells GOOD!

*woof*

Speaking of which, the only bad thing about going to Mexico (aside from the nasty stuffiness) is that I'm leaving my puppy! I hate leaving Basil, and naturally he's been extra-super cute and amusing the past few days. That boy knows how to work me, it's terrible to be so whipped by your own dog. But his favorite auntie, Miss X's Mom is coming (with Miss X, of course) to stay with him and the demon-seed Nick. So I know he's in excellent hands (and paws)... but I'll still miss my boy! Doubtful whether he'll miss me. But that's okay, I'm sure he needs a break from me.

I will post (ah-ha! Got in another one!) tons of pictures when I return, hopefully rejuvenated by the scent of the air and the fresh guacamole, and perhaps, just perhaps, I'll start posting (!) more often.

So la, la, la I'm off to Mexico.

It's been two years

2009-08-20T08:45:00.002-04:00

Two years since I've been on a vacation. Which, naturally means, two years since I've seen Mexico. Two years of pulling up my old photos and videos, playing Mariachi music and pretending to practice my Spanish, while eating guacamole (like that will improve my accent).

Well, the wait is over. After much stress, saving, and deliberation which nearly drove me over the edge (I get very tense about making the perfect travel plans) I finally just went ahead and took the plunge. I made reservations and I'm going the second week in September.

Sadly I could not afford to go to see the lovely folks at Lafitte (formerly Capitan now Petit) where I spent my first three ridiculously amazing trips to Mexico. So I'm going to someplace new and untried.

I've already started packing... probably a little premature, but I'm kind of excited.

There is only one small problem now...

The bathing suit.

Oh yeah, everyone wants to see this pulchritude in a bikini, but that's not happening. No. Not until you earn it. That's that.

Truth is I have two swimsuits and they are barely used and I like them (shock!) the trouble with them is, get this (this is trouble?) I've lost weight. Not the ton I'd like to lose, that I struggle constantly to lose, but I've lost a good 10 lbs since I last had the opportunity to wear 'The Suit' and 10 is enough to make things, well.. let's just say less than 'safe' in the water. I SAID you'd have to earn it - there will be no oopsies with the girls in the pool. I mean, okay, should Alan Rickman somehow be in that pool with me, then an oopsie could happen. I mean it wouldn't be a premeditated, rouged nipple flash or anything like that (REALLY)... it just might happen. You know, with a vigorous backstroke or something... Oh shush, it could happen.

Vacation to Mexico isn't the only thing that's been on hold people. Cut me some slack, okay?

All Hail Qi Gong Tui-Na! or Wheeeeeee!

2009-08-14T21:08:00.000-04:00

Last Friday I tried my first Qigong massage in hopes it would relieve me even momentarily of the weighty stress I carry around - even when there's no reason to be stressed. I wanted to post immediately about the experience but decided to be prudent. To wait and see how long the results lasted and to see how a second massage went, because as with Circus Peanuts, the first one might be awesome but the next could make you barf.

Good news: no barfing. I went for the second massage today and added a 40 minute foot reflexology just for the helluvit. First the results: I walked out feeling like I had taken three Xanax - I was that relaxed. NOTHING bothered me. Not the yakkity-yak of people on their cell phones on the bus, not the annoying rudeness of people looking one way and walking another - smack into me of course, and not the ever-present rocks that usually live in my shoulders and neck.

Second: the massage actually WORKED! Not only did I feel de-stressed that night but it lasted well into the next week. This is unheard of with me and massage and I had actually decided to go back for sure when the results lasted through 24 hours - which was more than I'd ever experienced from a massage. Not to mention the price. Far cheaper than any massage I've ever had. To say I'm astounded is understatement. I'm going back for the next two weeks as well - it's a huge indulgence (even though it's inexpensive) but I can't deny that it makes me feel really, really good so indulgence or not I'm doing it.

My new boyfriend

2009-08-07T09:14:00.003-04:00

Our love is illegal in at least 14 states, but the heart wants what the heart wants as a famous nut job once said.

He lives on my block. He is MUCH younger than me. He has naturally curly hair, and is a natural redhead (how can curl-envying, bottle-readhead resist?)

He's pretty gorgeous, huh?

I have to admit despite my adoration of the canines, I've just never been a big fan of the poodles. I've known some really sweet poodle mixes, but not so much with the pure-poodles. No particular reason, they just never grabbed me. Until I met... well, let's call him "Henry" to protect his anonymity as he's such a hunk-a-hunk-a burnin' love that if I gave out his real name the women would be beating down his door. And he would love it. Only 8 months old and this boy is already working the ladies. As I have freely admitted in the past, I'm a sucker for the charming men. Even the four-legged kind. Especially the four-legged kind.

When a boy like this stares into your eyes and rests his head in your hands... well, I defy anyone to resist.

By the way, Basil knows about this and is cool with it so let's not have any 'you hussy' emails, okay. Thanks.

and Qi-Gong to you too!

2009-08-07T09:12:00.000-04:00

My stress levels are high... all the time. I'm a stress machine. If someone figured out a way to power generators with stress I could solve the climate crises single-handedly. Alas, ain't happenin'. So instead of being productive my stress is killing me. I have shoulder knots that I've carried since childhood and they keep getting worse. I grind my teeth at night to such a degree that I have literally broken my front teeth. Thank GOD I have a great dentist who was able to repair them so you'd never know, but geez.... I mean I've even worn grooves into my night guard. Hello, clearly my affinity for Pitbulls has to do with the fact that I have a similar bite strength. Which is such an attractive attribute, no?

My dentist has actually given me stern 'talkings to' about doing something to relieve my stress levels. Which I DO try to do. I've tried boxing, I run, I do yoga, I take relaxing herbs at night, I spend my days with dogs fer cryin' out loud! My blood pressure is awesomely low (in a good way) but the tension in my neck, shoulders, back and god knows, my jaw is literally out of control.

I finally decided to try Qi-Gong Tui-Na massage since the western massages don't seem to do the trick. Sure they feel nice, but they never actually de-stress me. So today, after my last dog walk, I'm going to give it a shot.

Of course there's the stress of trying a new massage place. Seriously, I can find something to stress about even in the process of de-stressing! But damn... if I don't find something to chill me the hell out I think I'm going to tie myself into one great big knot until my head literally pops off.

And if the Qi-Gong Tui-Na works - even a little bit - I'll be singing its praises and hosanna-ing to the mountain tops. Which will probably cause me to stress out...

Poetry

2009-07-29T09:10:00.005-04:00

America is not known for its love of poetry. Other countries embrace it, but here, well, not so much. Of course good music has lyrics that can, not always but sometimes, stand alone as poems so I guess we have that. But even in a country that fears poetry (gosh, ya have to figure it out and all) there are the occasional pieces that everyone can recognize. Casey at the Bat... for example. But this... well... this is the stuff people. Of course, I've got to admit that what makes it good, no, great, is the performer.

With that I give you, Star Trek elder statesman and all around riot: William Shatner:

Now in all seriousness, go get a book of poetry from the library and give it a shot - I'll bet you can find at least ONE poet who speaks to you.

wanna go!

2009-07-28T10:05:00.002-04:00

It's been two years since I've gone on vacation. Basil seems to be feeling the burden. I'm thinking he wants me to go away so he can have some quality time with his friends without mommy around.

I'm looking into giving him what he wants. After all... it's always all about the dog.

Home Movies

2009-07-20T16:34:00.000-04:00

When my father died I took possession of dozens of reels of home movies. All silent, all recorded on a 8mm wind-up camera. I also took the film projector so that I could actually look at said reels of movies. Sadly the projector was not in the best shape and alternated between chewing the film and burning it. To avoid ruining more than the few minutes of film I already wrecked I decided the smart thing to do was transfer the reels to a DVD. Did that several years ago... and that was that.

Until the Mac.

Oh yes, Joy's been playing with the film editing again and you poor saps ... I mean, gentle readers... can watch the first of my newly digitized and organized home movies. Right here. Right now.

Okay, so watching other people's home movies may not be the fun you'd think... BUT the reason I chose this particular chunk of memory lane to force your tootsies to walk down is because it's actually a little historic. It takes place at New York International Airport (or Idelwild as it was known) - before it was called JFK International Airport.

From the JFK website

HISTORY
Construction began in April 1942 under a New York City contract for the placing of hydraulic fill over the marshy tidelands on the site of Idlelwild golf course. Initial plans called for a 1,000-acre airport, but it would eventually grow to five times that size. Commercial flights began July 1948. The airport was rededicated on December 24, 1963 as John F. Kennedy International Airport in memory of the nation's thirty-fifth president.
Kennedy International is the United States' leading international gateway. Over 80 airlines operate out of JFK.

This was sometime in the mid-1950s. My mother's sister, Kathleen, had graduated high school, come into a bit of cash (long story) and she and my grandfather were taking a trip to Ireland. I actually still have some souvenirs of that trip, if you can imagine. So for me, this is interesting in that I see my family long before I was born, while my parents were still happy, and on a day that loomed large in the family history. The big 'return' to Ireland. In fact the biggest trip any of them had taken aside from my grandparents' initial emigration from Ireland and my father's tour overseas during the war. Plus it looks a lot like a film-strip from the '50s and that right there is pretty cool. You know, to me.

It may seem odd that my grandmother did not go with them on this trip, but while I don't know for sure, I believe the reason she did not go was because she was one immigrant who did NOT miss her homeland. To her Ireland was a place where she was dead poor, motherless, and "there were chickens running across the kitchen table". My grandfather's experience of Sligo (where they were both from) was a little more upper middle class... i.e. not so much with the livestock in the house.

Thanks for watching, and enduring my home movies. And I hope my mother's deep and life-long adoration of Frank Sinatra makes it okay to have used the song in this little clip. And if anyone's interested Kathleen in the green suit is my aunt (deceased); Kathleen in black is my beloved grandmother (deceased); Barbara is my other aunt; Fred is my story-tellin' grandfather (deceased); Joe is my dad (deceased); Maureen is my mom (deceased). Now ain't that a happy lil' coda? *sigh* I do know how to bring down a room, huh? ;)

A Brief Visit to a Foreign Land: in reverse!

2009-07-14T09:00:00.001-04:00

On the left you see the charming and sweet Miss Brittany who lives far, far away in a foreign land called the Upper West Side. This weekend little Brittany came to stay with me for a slumber party with Basil and the ever delightful Trixie (Miss X).

Basil and Trixie are old hands at the slumber parties and have developed their own dynamic - the addition of Brittany was very exciting for everyone (me included).

They all walked together and while their walking styles are vastly different they were accommodating to each other, waiting while one did some particularly intensive sniffing (what I like to think of as checking their doggie e-mail) and generally behaving like VERY good dogs.

I was extremely proud of all of them.

For Brittany this was a chance to explore entirely new turf and what Beagle doesn't enjoy checking out new scents? I think the little girl was in sensory overload. We walked for hours at a time and when it was time to sleep - it was time to sleep!

(On Basil's bed of course.)

But when it was time to walk - it was time to GO!... and time for Trixie to 'bust a move'!

One night I woke up with Basil on one side of me, passed out; Trixie on the other side, passed out; Nick the super confused kitty, on my head, passed out but no Brittany! I managed to get out of bed without disturbing the sleeping hoard and found little Brittany the night owl in the living room enjoying a midnight chew.

And isn't that how all slumber parties in distant lands should end? I think so.

Just FYI: I want everyone to know that both Trixie and Brittany were adopted through breed rescue organizations - if you are thinking about getting a dog and are want a specific breed, please PLEASE check the rescue organizations before you buy from a pet store. Thanks!

A Brief Visit to a Foreign Land

2009-07-06T20:54:00.001-04:00

For the past few weeks I have been walking dogs for a friend of mine (another dog walker) who is on vacation. Her clientele is on the other side of the city from me and one is as far west as you can go without sitting in a boat - and a way uptown from me. Going to walk this sweet little girl twice a day is a trek, but it is also kind of wild in that this neighborhood is like another world.

Each area of Manhattan has it's own particular flavor and vibe but this one is almost like going to another city altogether.

It's beautiful, and quiet and like many pockets of this city has little gems tucked away where you might least expect them. My favorite is this one.

The first time I saw this statue it caught my attention because it is nestled in between two large historic buildings on Riverside Drive, sort of in the middle of nowhere. It looks out towards Riverside Park and, uh... the river. It stands in front of the New York Buddhist Church and interestingly (you know, to me) I actually visited their main temple in Kyoto several years ago. The first few times I passed it I just kinda looked at the statue, and liked it. For reasons I cannot fathom, except perhaps scale and the 'huh... what's THAT doing there?' it reminded me of the masthead of Hercules that sits, pretty much in the middle of nowhere, out near where I grew up.

Finally one day the dog I was walking decided to stop for some serious sniffing right in front of the statue and I was able to read the plaque on the wall below. (if it's too small, just click on it and it will get big enough to read)

Knowing that this piece survived the horrific atomic bomb... it may sound over the top, but it really does fill me with a sense of awe. And there's just something about it, whether it's the sculpture itself or simply the unexpectedness of it, that gets to me. It's like certain paintings at MY museum (the Metropolitan Museum of Art) that I NEED to visit whenever I go to the museum, even if it's just for a quick look.

It does what art is supposed to do: makes you think about things, makes you feel things.

So while I'm scoopin' up the poopin' uptown and way across, I'm also visiting a lil' piece of art. And it makes me think. And it makes me feel.

It's nice to be able to visit 'another country' for the price of a subway token.

who doesn't love a little drama

2009-06-29T06:55:00.002-04:00

Well, I for one am not a fan.

My last post was clearly not written by someone who is a role model for the upside of mental health. But maybe it's good that I put it out there. This survival thing, this getting through bad days, weeks, months maybe that's the real point. Staying alive when the world seems bright and cheery and you feel happy and content, well that's easy isn't it? That's the fun part. Not taking refuge in thoughts of razor blades and punching out your time-clock permanently when everything is bleak and you're lonely and feel abandoned and ugly and useless and so damned sad that nothing matters, that's the hard part.

The other hard part is recognizing when it's a matter of chemistry.

I feel lucky to have gotten a hold on my recent downward spiral towards the comfy black snugglies of a deep depression by increasing my medication slightly. I hesitate to say that I'm 100% okay just yet, but things are infinitely better than they were. It astounds me how easily I started slipping down that slope to the slough of despond, and how even seeing it happening I felt helpless to stop it even though I knew I could certainly TRY a little more medication. It's really like an angel and devil on your shoulders. The angel says: hey, how about we've been here before and we try a little tweaking of the meds before deciding to off ourselves, eh? And the devil says: Fuck it all. You suck and you always have, always will and you may as well spare yourself more of the same.

It's a lot easier to listen to the second guy. After all, he's a snappier dresser.

But I did start taking more meds, it has started to help and I'm going to be far more vigilant that this doesn't happen again in the future. It's hard though, I mean it's hard to recognize it when it first starts. Is it just a 'bad day' or is it the start of a tumultuous war of self-loathing vs. rational thought? Sometimes it's just impossible to tell.

And to those who offered some support - I do appreciate it.

So much for that

2009-06-14T22:50:00.000-04:00

Despite the title of this blog I seems I've lost my infatuation with myself. It's pretty much a struggle to remember to comb my hair lately. I mean I just don't see much point. Am I gaining weight? So what. Am I wearing make-up. Who cares. It's like an endless attempt to be someone that nice, someone people like, someone desirable and that struggle is all uphill and yields nothing much.

This is not to say that from time to time I don't feel appreciated, just this past week a surprise care-package of the coolest kind arrived in the mail from the delightfully inventive Miss Jill. The selection of fun-stuff in the box was perfect, and exactly what I would have packed up for myself - if I liked myself enough to care. And it really made me smile and giggle and feel happy, truly I couldn't have been more surprised or grateful: music, a book, vegan chocolate and even a mirror ball (of a sort) and more. I know there are so many people so much worse off than me, I do know that. And I'm trying so hard to hold onto that feeling and let it be enough.

But I'm such a miserable bitch that nothing is ever enough.

You know when you have a spill and you try to sop it up with a brand new, totally dry sponge it takes FOREVER for it to absorb the spill? That's me. A damp sponge sops up spills in a blink, because it's already primed. So I'm a dry sponge. Every now and then a drop of water hits it but by the time the next one comes it's already dry again and so it's never able to really function the way you want a sponge to function.

I'm a non-functioning sponge.

In a desert.

With a blow-dryer.

Jesus, cue the violins, eh?

I guess it's just that the older I get the more I wonder why I'm here. And I've wondered that since I was a kid, so imagine how much I think about it now. I'm tired. I'm tired of being a non-priority, even to myself. I'm a second-stringer at best. Afterthought, non-weekend friend. And clearly I'm too heinous to expect any romantic overture to be anything more than a means to make someone else jealous, or worse, a gag at the ugly girl's expense.

I've never been first in anyone's life, not even as a baby... I know, I know love yourself first. But when that doesn't work... well, then what?

Then I guess you end up like me. Wanting more than I'll ever have and trying to be happy with what I do have.

I'm just tired. Really tired of myself. And I'm tired of proving my parents right.

T.V. in the Kitchen

2009-06-07T14:34:00.001-04:00

Tools of distancing members of my small family were plentiful in my house growing up. The pets were always good - talk to the dog when nobody was speaking to each other (which was often). The television however was the most popular tool of 'keep away'. There was a television in the livingroom, one my parent's bedroom, a small one in my bedroom and of course one in the kitchen. Given the fact that we were three people living in a small two bedroom house I'm going out on a limb here to say: that's a LOT of televisions.

The fact that my father was a notorious miser, it may seem more than surprising that there were so many televisions. Ah-ha! Stay with me as I decipher the logic here. 1) my dad had a television repair license, something he got in high school or just after so he was greatly enamoured of fiddling with the machines. There were tubes (kids, google it - televisions used to need things called 'tubes' in order to operate) of all shapes and sizes all around the house. So having multiple television sets was something he enjoyed. Also please note that each and every one of these were of the B&W variety until I was... um... I think I was in college by the time that house saw a color tv. And believe me, there was an aeriel antenna on the roof until the day my father died. Cable? Please. And 2) it was a great way not to have to talk to anyone. So here we are, three people who have a deep seated need to be apart with a tv in practically every room - and in the summer, my father would run an antennae line out the window so he could hook up the tv outside. I kid you not.

My parents had divergent tastes in televised programming, so the only one who went both ways (as it were) was me. In an attempt to 'connect' I would, when the chill in the room wasn't too frosty, watch with them whatever they happened to have on. Star Trek, The Twilight Zone and Fawlty Towers with my father (the latter of which was watched in its entirety outside in the backyard during a PBS fundraising marathon and followed by a raucous fun weekend of Dad's famous violent rages... well, watching tv never stopped anyone from downin' their beer now did it?) My mother on the other hand was a Daytime Soap or as we called them back then 'serials' fanatic. I cannot tell you the number of actors I have seen on stage or on the street that I grew up watching on 'the serials'. She was also big on the half-hour sit-coms. And let us never forget that she used I Love Lucy re-runs as my baby-sitter, teaching me at a very early age how to speak with a Cuban accent.

Now me? I'd watch anything, other than sports. I was a bored child in the suburbs in a bad family situation - if my head wasn't in a book, I was glued to the television. Can I just say right now how much I loved the Bowery Boys growing up? I mean really, I was so crazy about those goofy East Side kids solving crimes and hanging out in the soda shop that it was... well... it wasn't right. But of course not much about me was 'right'. I had a foot in so many different decades it's no wonder I didn't fit in where I was.

Now aside from the soaps and sit-coms, my mother did have one totally out-of-character show that she was very much addicted to, for a time. It was called Sunrise Semester and was broadcast at the crack of "why the hell is anyone who doesn't have to milk a cow up at this hour?" My mother being the earliest riser known to humanity, and my father being the night owl of all time... oh I digress. Sorry. So my mother's up at the crack of - and the television is turned on before her eyes even open all the way. Seriously.

Being the competitive insomnia champ of the house I was up all night and still up at dawn so when I heard her puttering around - meaning when I heard the t.v. go on - I'd head out to the kitchen. Because that one summer Sunrise Semester was on. I missed the first episode, but by the second I too was hooked. You see the 'semester' was spent dissecting a novel. Hello - t.v. + book = get the popcorn! As I said, this was not my mother's typical show so I found it fascinating that she was so hooked on it too. Well, turns out it was the professor's voice she was really addicted to. Ah well... whatever works, huh? I don't remember exactly how old I was but I'm guessing maybe 9 or 10 years old. The novel up for study was Emile Zola's Nana. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you do - it's amazing. However, I don't think it was ever intended for the 9-10 year old market. Yet I stuck with the show, fascinated as Dr. Zulli talked about Zola's life, the characters in the book and the story line. When it was all over I was a bit blue - the next course up was something about ... I dunno, science maybe? Didn't have the hold on me that Nana did. Many years later, when I was in college, PBS's Masterpiece Theater ran a two-part dramatization of another of Zola's books Thérèse Raquin. Oh my GOD I wanted to be Kate Nelligan. What a great role, what a great story!

Seeing it reminded me that I had never read Nana. I actually went to the bookstore and could only find Thérèse, so I read that. Some time later I got my hands on a copy of Nana from the library. I cannot explain how odd it was to finally read this book when I had spent so much of my life with it 'in my head' from such a young age. The world of that story... it was already embedded in my brain, reading the book was like filling in the lines in a coloring book. Again, I highly recommend it.

So while the television was a tool of interpersonal avoidance, it was also a window to new worlds, at least for me. It may not have been much, but I worked with what was available to me. I still have a special place in my heart for Zola, and for Dr. Zulli (who did have a really nice voice). I tried to find some video of him on the 'net but came up with nothing. But you can see him here.

I may be Vegan, but I still love me some cheese

2009-06-05T20:11:00.006-04:00

THIS kind of cheese!

How can you not love Charo? She's kooky and wonderfully silly but also dead-serious talented and clearly has a heart of gold. I love matador outfits, but that's the ONLY good thing about bullfighting. Brava cuchi-cuchi girl!

WHY am I so tired?

2009-06-01T19:48:00.006-04:00

Oh the weather is making me nuts, honestly. This hot cold hot cold hot cold crap - I mean it's like one of my past relationships. (And I do mean EXACTLY like.) Annoying!

I also think it's partly responsible for my feeling draggy and weak. Maybe I can't really blame the weather, but I will any way. It's more likely that I'm working my anemia again. Probably explains why I'm cold-blooded. Har-Har.

I went for a run this morning and could barely make a mile and half, in fact I'm surprised I managed to get that far. I just wanted to lay down and take a nap... the sidewalk was looking mighty alluring what with it's rough edges and broken bottle shards. Just the sort of place I could curl up and nod off. Yeah. I am a total riot. But it is a fact that I have a history of being able to better fall asleep in odd places than in my comfy bed, so the curb-appeal, if you will, isn't really a stretch.

*sigh* Could this be less entertaining? Why sure it could... but not by much.

In the interests of being more entertaining, I will share with you more of the "Joy Got a Mac: Watch Her Play with IT!" show. Computer + Doggies + Paul Robeson = sweet Jesus I really need to get a life. But perhaps it will make you smile. Here's the pups.

And yes, 'Trixie' is Miss X... I know I've slipped in the past and given away her true identity, but I hoped nobody would catch on. Now it's out for reals peeps. Yes, fame comes at a price, but her tiny little paws are chapped from all the paw-prints she has to sign on the street. So please, at least for now: no autographs.

It should go without saying, Basil NEVER does autographs. So don't be offended.

Holidays

2009-05-25T08:00:00.002-04:00

Unlike most people I'm not a fan of holidays. Oh sure I like having a day off here and there, of course, but I mean in general holidays are pretty much not much to me.

It started when I was a kid, this ennui about holidays. Actually I outright hated them. The delight of not having to go to school (because I hated school with a bloody passion) was always quashed by the dread of being home. Holidays meant 'bar the door 'cos the fightin's about to start'. Especially the summer holidays. Summer + beer = my father's drunken rampages. So not so much fun for me, the holidays.

It sucks that any joy (pardon the use of my name) that would have been a part of a family gathering (when they happened) or just a lazy day off was sucked out of holidays for me by alcoholism and violence. What continues to suck is that I still don't enjoy them much.

I never really learned how to like them. Never really participated in gatherings of the holiday-ish sort as I became an adult because... well... I just don't really know how to. Still don't.

And frankly, I still feel a sense of dread at the thought of them.

Holidays for me mostly mean a lot of quiet. I usually clean, or watch movies or if I'm feeling really decadent I read.

What I don't like to admit, but I'm going to, is that I'm jealous too. I'm jealous of people who make plans for holidays, jealous that they have people who want to see them and make an effort. I'm jealous of people having a good time on holidays, and I'm jealous of people who have memories of fun family gatherings.

It's not pretty, but I never said I was pretty.

It would be nice to not feel that way, nice to have that holiday-thing that people have. But frankly it's a skill I never learned, and I'm not sure it's one that you can learn especially when it means unlearning dread.

When I'm in a particularly good mood I can let go of the 'jealous' a bit and bask in the relief of knowing I never, ever again, have to be trapped in a place with people stumbling, slurring and fighting. Never have to be subjected to people I do not like and who actively terrify me for the sake of 'family holidays'.

But when I'm blue it's harder. It makes for the lonely and the self-pity. Which is soooo not attractive. Nor appealing.

What's even more difficult is the pretending. This happens when well-meaning, more mainstreamy type people ask "do you have plans?" Because I have to go into my standard schtick. The "oy vey, no way all I want to do is sleep!" Because to do otherwise would open a kettle of fish nobody wants to smell. And why would I want to do that ... oh wait, I'm doing it now. Well, at least you have the option of not reading. In person it tends to make people uncomfortable and that's not something I enjoy... unless there's a laugh to be gotten from it.

So holidays. Summer holidays. Cheers.

This Blogger Speaks.... not sure that's a good thing

2009-05-24T16:31:00.009-04:00

I think the sound is a little low... Sorry. But if anyone wants more of this, I'll try to fix that.

Is it an emergency?

2009-05-22T16:57:00.002-04:00

Not half an hour ago the pipe under my sink sprang a leak. When I touched it to see just where the leak was coming from the entire thing fell out. I called the building's management company, because the super... not so much. After telling him what happened the guy at the management company asked: is it an emergency?

I dunno... what do you think?

The Transition

2009-05-21T08:19:00.001-04:00

My P.C. has been giving me grief for at least a year - there's always something and it's always slow. Not to mention the terrible noise. Yeah, my hard drive was so loud people would ask if someone was running a lawnmower outside. Outside here being a NYC street... not so much with the lawnmowers.

So I finally decided to bite the bullet, part with the bucks and switch sides. I got a Mac.

The few times in the past that I've encountered a Mac I've been so thoroughly disoriented that I swore I would never switch. Of course I said the same thing when the big Windows change came, you know the one that went from keystrokes to using a mouse.... and before that programming the kooky thing yourself using BASIC. I'm sorry, is anyone old enough to remember those days? Methuselah, you reading this honey?

Well, several of my friends have made the transition from Windows to Macs and they speak with the fire of the converted. I've been through enough crap reformatting hard drives, reinstalling new drives, having to deal with dying P.C.s to finally join the ranks of the Apple people.

I've had it for just over a week and I'm still feeling like I never used a computer before... okay that's an exaggeration, but after decades of doing it one way it's a little confusing. I kind of miss knowing what I had to do to make something happen, and where things were and how to fix things that were broken but change is good and learning new things keeps the brain from atrophying, so I'm embracing the new.

I'm really embracing the quiet too. This machine is so quiet I wonder if it's actually plugged in. I mean I hear NOTHING from it. The P.C.s have always rattled and quaked so much I wondered if there really WAS a little man in there turning the drives.

I still have a way to go to feel like I really know how to use this thing properly, but I figure it'll come. And it will be worth it when I finally master the new programs and have things actually work the way I know they ought to. Everyone says Macs are easier to use but when you've spent so much time with P.C.s and have an intuitive feel for them (easy for me because they are clearly as wacked as my thought processes are) it's maybe not so easy as it might be for someone who had trouble with learning P.C.s. But I'm going to persevere.

I miss my right click a bit though, gotta admit.

What makes a two-hour train ride worthwhile?

2009-05-11T10:10:00.004-04:00

Saturday night, as you can see from the previous post, I was attending Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak's CD release party. It was an AMAZING evening. Seeing them play in a bar/club setting is fun - seeing it in a theater with appropriate lighting and a great sound system where Robert Whaley can really let his inner thespian out is even better.

My very wonderful BFF Gary dragged himself away from a ton of grad school work to travel into the city from the farthest reaches of .... far away (I honestly don't know what is outside the borders of NYC...) to see this show with me. Because I asked him to and he is a good friend (and knew I'd kill him if he didn't! :) But it meant a lot to me that he came because it was a bit of a hassle for him. But I also knew that he would LOVE it. And he did. The proof is here.

Now not everyone enjoys this sort of attention, but those of us with our very useful degrees in THEATRE, well... we kinda love it... we actually EXPECT it. And happily it seems to happen with some regularity: Keely Smith, Debbie Reynolds, Shockheaded Peter, the lovely Miss Coco Peru... I could go on, I'm just pointing out that these 'interactions' with a live show + the Joy & Gary show are nothing new.

I got a good solid half hour of Saturday night's show on video - if my memory card was larger I could have gotten the whole 90 minutes - plus the celebratory dance party that happened after the show. Because you know, this Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak isn't a typical show. It's theater, music, and of course dance.

I'm only posting one song, this is the one that Gary responded to the most so as a 'thank you' to him for coming I thought I'd share it with everyone.

I can't wait for them to do this show again, and if you can get to, or are in New York, you should come too - you'll get a gold star in my 'book' if you do! Like my friend Hélène who also came even though she was swamped. (She didn't get pulled onstage so I focused on Gary here, but I also want to put it out there that I appreciate her coming too!)

In New York City on Saturday?***

2009-05-04T12:08:00.006-04:00

CD Release Party -
Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak

The Theatrical Experience of C T T H!

Date:
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Time:

9:30pm - 11:00pm

Location:

45 Bleecker Street Theater, Downstairs

Street:

45 Bleecker St.., off Lafayette Street

City/Town:

East New York, NY

Description

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Contact: John Lacy (212) 475-2504
reasonmusicmanagement@live.com

Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak – CD Release Event!

(New York, NY) May 9, 2009 – This show has been going gangbusters all over New York City, with a hotly anticipated release on Triple R Records (www.tripleRrecords.com) scheduled for May 9, 2009, at 45 Bleecker Street Theater (downstairs), at 9:30 PM - doors open at 9:00 PM, with general admission seating.

This CD release party will be unlike any Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak show you've seen before. A not-to-be-missed unique, intimate theatrical event, featuring a bit of comic stand up, some tragic stories, a few fantastic songs from the new CD (including new material), and of course - a little interpretative dance.

Just print out and bring in the coupon from the Comic Tales website for a special $10 ticket - that's half off the normal price!

“Lunacy? Spectacle? And music, too?” Rene Chun, New York Times

“The best show I’ve seen in months.” Dan Aquilante, New York Post

Comic Tales’ lead singer, songwriter, and trumpeter Robert Whaley previously fronted NYC rock legends, The Niagaras. With a penchant for interpretive dancing on tabletops and hilariously satirical rants on a broken childhood, Whaley electrified national audiences with appearances on Good Morning America, the Oxygen network, and Fox. The Niagaras were a hugely popular staple of the Manhattan scene for nearly two decades, attracting celebrities, controversy, and packed houses along the way.

Seeking a return to the R&B roots that got him into music in the first place, and informed by an almost pathological aversion to anything post-1974, Whaley joined forces with pianist and arranger Aaron Wyanski, industry veteran Michael “Miguelito” LaMorté (Mini-King, Grupo Miguelito) on bass, and longtime Niagaras drummer Dylan Wissing (Johnny Socko, Novel) to craft an organic, literate, deeply-grooving collection of semi-autobiographical songs.

Written in a tiny studio filled to bursting-with-20th Century literature, and inspired by a massive collection of obscure vinyl, Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak have managed to create a sound and a show which is both timeless and cutting-edge. The sweat-drenched performances along with the rapidly-disappearing ability to deeply engage and entertain a crowd really leave a lasting impression. Sounds like hype, until you experience it in person.

More information, with sound files, video, and photographs can be found on:

www.comictalesoftragicheartbreak.com

www.myspace.com/comictalesoftragicheartbreak

# # #

HERE'S WHAT THE CRITICS HAVE TO SAY ABOUT Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak:

"It was a performance Jim Morrison would have loved. Lunacy? Spectacle? And music too??"
Rene Chun, New York Times

"...the best show I've seen in months. It was a fit of deliberate performance that riveted every eye..."
Dan Aquilante, New York Post

"...A high-turbo blend of manic songs and clever and whacked out improv. Robert Whaley should be a Ritalin poster boy. And I mean that admiringly."
Cynthia True, Time Out New York

"Sharp dressed showmanship and sharp witted pop."
New Yorker Magazine

"It's painfully obvious why Robert Whaley is part of one of New York's longest-running acts. His songs are odd hybrids of Beatles-esque melodies and Zappa-esque rhythms."
Dawn Eden, New York Press

"Singer/cornetist/clown prince Robert Whaley tosses Bowie/Morrissey and Quentin Crisp into a Ventures blender, adds a dash of grenadine, a splash of mescaline, hits ultra-whip and splurt! It's all over the ceiling."
Steve Santos, Alternative Press

"Musicians can get by on mere talent. But beauty turns talent into a luxury. Comic Tales is a handsome quartet who dress like Harry Connick Jr. and sound like a cross between Leonard Cohen and David Byrne."
Rob Kemp, Musician Magazine

"Stars fall for these guys."
Candace Busnell (creator, Sex and the City), Vogue Magazine

***I know this was sort of a cheat of a post.... but I do love these guys and since they'd already prepared this information, who am I to change it? (oh my god am I lazy or what????)

running

2009-05-02T13:45:00.006-04:00

I really love to run but over the winter I pretty much stopped altogether. I wanted to run outside but the weather kept me from it, I could have run at the gym on the treadmill but I just ... didn't. Inertia, it's a beautiful thing.

I started running again a couple of weeks ago and was surprised that I could still manage it. I figured all the endurance I'd built up would be gone and I'd have to begin re-training slowly with a minute running, two minutes walking repeat, repeat. But shockingly, while I've lost the speed I'd worked up to I am still able to do the distances I was doing before I stopped. A nice surprise for sure. But even with this happy discovery I didn't manage to work in more than a once a week run. How lame.

Last Saturday I actually ran to and from a dog-walking job across town. 1.5 miles each way and was delighted with myself. The next day I went to a wedding, fortuitously it seemed everyone I met there was a runner. Not just 'oh I run' (like me) but multiple-marathon runners. Talking to them, and listening to the advice they had about running, gave me the oomph and motivation to get my sneakers back on the pavement (or treadmill). One woman in particular gave me a reality check on my running vs. my weight. I've been very cautious with my running because I'm fearful of overdoing it (as I will tend to do) and injuring my knee again, so that has always translated to running a maximum of 4 times a week and most often only 3 times. This multiple marathoner, who was a ball of fire and funny as hell, told me to run 3 miles six days a week. That if I did that there was no way it wouldn't show up on the scale and that if I did not push myself to that degree I'd never push to the next level in running.

I got so fired up by this advice that I've been running at night AFTER spending the day walking dogs. I'm usually more of a morning runner, but running later seems to be working for me. I feared I'd be too hyper to sleep if I ran at 8pm but instead I find I am passing out and sleeping really well. Hmmm. Not bad.

Ideally I'd have run every day this week, but I just couldn't do it. My knee did indeed start to assert its option to STOP so I had to take two nights off this week to let it rest, which seemed to do the trick. Typically I'd be really angry at myself for not DOING IT RIGHT, but I'm finding that in some areas I'm really learning to be kinder to myself. Taking a night off from the running to make sure my knee has time to recoup is smart, not weak. Maybe next week I'll only need one night off, maybe I'll need two again, but I know if I'm careful I can build up and get to the point where I can run 6 days a week and then raise my mileage.

When I first started running and I could barely do a mile before my knee was a blaze of pain, I never thought I could run 3 miles. Now I know that I can. If I can do a 5K (3.2 miles) 6 days a week, then I can eventually do 10K. And when I can do that.... well, maybe you see where this is going.

I really would like to run the NYC Marathon one day. It's something I've thought about for many years. Years before I ever attempted to run. There's something about completing a marathon that has a strong appeal. Not just for me, obviously the race wouldn't exist if there wasn't something that appeals to the spirit.

I've never been good with slow and steady. I get impatient and I've always been big on total immersion in something and then completely losing interest. Running is something you can't do that with - your body rebels. But training slowly, while it is time-consuming, does work and it's worth it and maybe, just maybe in 2011 I'll be running that marathon on the streets of the city I love.

When I see the treadmill clock in at 3.2 miles I can't stop smiling. Because that's ME running that far. ME? RUNNING? It's still amazes me, and I like that about it.

Dodging bullets and other tales of romance

2009-04-22T10:36:00.000-04:00

Over the years I have gone through angst and sorrow over love (or its facsimile). These episodes ran the gamut from crushes that went on far too long to unrequited to pretend-requited and without fail I felt that if I did not end up with this person my broken heart would kill me. Or I would kill myself.

Whatever the chemical psychic pull of 'love' might be one thing it tends to do is blind you to reality, or at least to the reality of the other person and whether or not you really are right for each other or if you're just filling some ancient void that actually needs 'filling' from another source - yourself.

I have been guilty of that old (and very valid) cliche: Love is Blind on nearly every occasion. I have suffered the pains of hell because things did not work out the way I thought they should. But on every count it seems that no matter how much I've run myself over the coals for being an idiot for loving someone who didn't love me, pretended to love me, or any gradient in between it seems I tortured myself over a big fat nothing.

The truth is everyone who I've 'loved and lost' turned out to be the biggest blessings one could hope for. The truth is I have dodged a bullet (in love) more times than one could hope for and I cannot believe my luck. Not that it ever felt like luck at the time, no siree. But in retrospect I breathe sigh after sigh after Godzilla-sized sigh of relief that I did NOT get what I wanted in those relationships. Clearly I have done some Matrix-style bullet dodging in my life without even knowing I was doing it. Go me!

The seemingly 'great loves of my life' have turned out to all have been... how do we put this kindly... um, okay no way to do that: Losers. I'm talking alcoholics, depressives who will not seek help, manipulators, adulturers, trapped in the past, conceited (? hello???) and closeted homosexuals. OH BABY, have I had some wacky luck with the menfolk. There were of course a couple that were perfectly wonderful - needless to say I broke up with them. I don't believe it was an attempt to punish myself though so much as being able to see that we were really not compatible in any real way. Which sorta blows for me because, you know, otherwise really nice guys. Ah well. But the topic here are the ones I agonized about. The ones I KNEW were perfect for me but who were in fact completely poisonous to me and I was utterly blind to it.

Seeing how these 'great loves' have turned out since we parted ways I truly am astounded that I thought each of them were so amazing - at the time. WHAT a dope! I do blame at least 80% of that cloudy tunnel vision on the fact that I was never quite 'right' in my brain chemistry. I let relationships - sick and twisted as they might have been - continue on for far, far too long. Wasted years over men because I had no ability to see past my emotions. One of the perks of having my seratonin levels balanced is the ability to actually see what I'm dealing with - in all aspects of my life. Seeing reality has made getting out of bad situations quickly far easier.

I know, with total certainty, that had I ended up with any of the men I 'couldn't live without' that I would have ended up killing myself, either slowly through drinking too much or quickly with a razor blade. Of that I'm positive. And I gotta tell ya, the poor ladies who did end up with these guys - they have all my pity.

I've never been a huge Rolling Stones fan - don't get me wrong, I like 'em just fine, just not something I listen to with great regularity. But in one instance they caught a lyric that really does sum it all up.

You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you might find
You get what you need

Even if what you need is simply not to be with the one you think you want.

Basil took a walk... yes Virginia there IS a Santa Claus

2009-04-16T09:42:00.002-04:00

The irony of walking other people's dogs when my own dog refuses to leave a 20 foot radius in front of our building is much fuel for my own self-deprecating humor. It's very much 'the cobbler's children have no shoes'... except that walking Basil is not something I don't have time for, or don't want to do. In fact I began walking other people's dogs because Basil refused to go for walks with me. It made me sad.

Today he made me as happy as if I'd just met Cesar Milan. Happier. Because today Basil walked with me.

I honestly do not remember when he last walked with me - it's been that long. From time to time he has deigned to cross the street to say hello to the lovely Mr. & Mrs. Chow who run a cleaner's, or to go almost all the way down our block (because he didn't realize how far we were going!) But a real walk, a walk that involved leaving the block, crossing an avenue and circling back? Please. Mr. Basil don't do THAT sort of nonsense. Until today.

I saw my yummy Mexican Dog Whisperer hero deal with a situation like Basil's once. A dog who would 'put on the breaks' at a certain point on his block and would walk no farther. Of course, Cesar fixed the problem. I watched the segment over and over and then applied the principles to Basil - and truly, it worked. But it only worked for about a week. Then Basil pulled rank and that was that.

Today I just... well, I'm not sure what happened to day. It's gorgeous out, Basil didn't seem anxious to run back in and I decided to push the envelope (or the leash) a little and it WORKED. There was no fighting, no tugging, no pulling and best of all, no tail between his legs. He walked like a ... dare I say it? He walked like a 'regular' dog! For more than 20 minutes!

I worry about his joints hurting, but he didn't seem to be in any sort of discomfort and he actually seemed happy to be walking. I cannot express how thrilled I am about this. It may not seem like such a huge deal, but anyone who knows this dog knows it is HUGE.

Will he do it again later? Or even tomorrow? I can only hope, and try again. But for now I am reveling in the thrill of having walked my OWN dog. I couldn't be prouder.

Got Faith?

2009-04-13T10:12:00.001-04:00

When I was a child my faith in all things supernatural, ethereal and religious (read Catholic) was pristine, unwavering and absolute. I was the queen of the Wonder Bread catechism - (you know, making Eucharist out of Wonder Bread because it was so full of nothing you could squash it into a flat "host" just like they used at my church! Builds strong bodies (and souls!) 12 ways! wheee!)

But I lost my faith in god when I was eight. My hamster died. I begged with all my 8 year old heart for god to give him back to me - 'he' didn't and that was the start of my doubts. Seems simplistic to those who maintain their faith throughout their lives, with much greater losses, but for me, that event was the crack in the foundation that eventually brought down the house. But I have nothing if not a belief in things being possible - even then and I continued to believe fully and without reserve in other things, like Santa Claus, and that there must indeed be something greater than us.

I no longer believe in the doctrines I was raised with but I think ... I hope... that there is something greater. I don't often discuss my own spiritual beliefs because to me that's intensely private, although I LOVE to talk religion because it still fascinates me. But that's the thing see, there's your personal faith and then there's religion. Faith - that's yours. It belongs to you and it is in you and informs (hopefully) the way you act towards your fellow creatures here on this planet where things are concrete not ethereal. But shouldn't that faith be a building block towards a better world rather than a tool for power mongering and inducing fear or distrust in your fellows? I think it should. I think that's what Jesus was talking about in the bible that is so often quoted by certain groups to chastise and denigrate other people who do not follow their party line.

I guess that's what people do though. They choose to use what they can to push their own views onto others. Because you know, those are the ONLY views that are right. Uh huh. Yeah.

If I may: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I do believe, please correct me if I'm wrong, that that particular quote is supposed to come from the lips of one Jesus of Nazarath. A fellow who quite frankly has my respect, while his so called followers do not. Not all, of course, I mean the ones who bastardize his teachings to suit themselves. It's called the Golden Rule because it pretty much epitomizes, to my understanding, all you really need to be a good person and live a good life. And isn't that what all religions boil down to? Be good. Be good to others and the rest will take care of itself. Trouble is that's just not enough for some people and they feel they have to MAKE everyone believe what they believe. Even to the point that it controls our government.

If I may, yet again: Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s. Again from that kooky, peace-loving Jesus. Am I completely off-base to see that quote as a direct separation of church and state? Hmmmm. Always bothers me to see a gift shop in a church. I'm looking at you St. Patrick's Cathedral. And it always bothers me to see government run with a religious bent.

This country was founded on greed and acquisition. Oh yeah, and theft. Beads for land, small pox... a very nice history. It was also, in part, settled by people who were desperate to practice their religious beliefs without persecution - of course they were the first to persecute anyone who didn't buy into their faith: witchhunts anyone? But at least the ideal of freedom of religion was there... you know, to a degree.

I don't know where I'm going with this, just spouting off as usual. Something about Easter brings it all up in me. I guess it's the acquisition of other religion's festivals, hello bunnies, eggs and Passover and calling them uniquely Christian. I make no excuses for my own issues with the Catholic church and Christianity - I have many. Oddly enough many of them have to do with wavering on dogma. Ironic, no? Especially since my other issues are with dogma in general. Aiiieeee. Confusing much? Perhaps I should have studied Theology in school instead of theater.

I suppose my anger at religious institutions and the "I'm right, and you're going to hell if you don't agree with me" attitude is that I lost my faith. I'm angry that I don't have that any more. I'm angry and I'm very sad about it too. I'd love to have the unwavering faith I had as a child. I'd love to have that spiritual crutch of a dogma that I could follow blindly knowing it was the right way. But it's gone. Pffft. So I'm left to those basics that I do believe, that DO make sense. That one simple sentence Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It's not always as easy as it might seem, but it's something to strive for, it's something to have faith in.

24

2009-04-03T11:34:00.000-04:00

With only 24 hours in a day and me needing something closer to 37 I've found a lot of things not getting done. These are things I've told friends I'd do for them - fully intending to - and then in the seemingly endless additions to the To-Do list have not gotten done. Please note my guilt about not getting these things done is huge.. yet I still continue to not get them done. What IS that? Fear primarily.

I've probably mentioned before that when I'm fearful of doing something, being somewhere, just plain fearful, I tend to go to sleep. It's a weird interpretation of the fight or flight mechanism. My version: no fight, no flight, big nap. Sure it would have gotten me eaten by a dinosaur.... but wait, did humans co-exist with dinosaurs? Hmmm. I'd best double-check my bible on that one. Any way, using napping instead of fighting or 'flighting' wouldn't have worked in more primitive times, but here in my cozy little apartment... or occasionally on the subway... I have found it works for me. Of course I don't get done the things that I'm frightened of doing (my fear? Fucking it up.) but it does help tip back the balance lost from my usual insomnia, so it's good for something at least.

So I've been sleeping well the past few weeks using the combination of herbal remedies, tons of dog walks and fear of doing things I said I'd do. Boy, it really does take a village to get Joy some ZZZZs.

It hasn't been all sleeping and dogs however. I have truly been busy-busy in all sorts of wacky fun ways. In no particular order:

I did an interview for a spot on Televisa (Mexico's Top News outlet) about unusual jobs in the U.S.

I have boarded three dogs in the past three weeks.

I pulled up the cracked and hideous tiles on my kitchen floor, repaired the sub flooring, trekked home two incredibly heavy boxes of tiles (one more to go) and laid them out. BTW the floor now looks gorgeous even though it's only 90% finished.

Laundry.

Made an ill-conceived and embarrassing attempt to deliver a sick friend a care package. Let's not even go there.

Reading books for the Blind and Dyslexic every weekend.

Went to my aunt's funeral on the dreaded land of my birth: Long Island. She was last of my father's siblings, and a really lovely lady who I wish I had known better.

Got a facial and a full body sugar scrub (there was a Spa Day sale and I couldn't resist).

Knitting for the homeless.

Finally using the gift certificate for a massage that Gary gave me for Christmas. Hellllo.

Went to the theater for the first time in months and actually saw a good show! Then went for drinks which, can I tell you?, I haven't gone to a bar just for actual drinks in so long that I do not even remember the last time. Met an extremely good-looking (and smart) guy who did not seem repelled by me (yay!!) was not 12 years old (yay!!) is straight (dear god YAY!) and who, naturally has not called me (*sigh* oh well... 3 outta 4 ain't bad.)

After 10 years of bitching about it I finally flipped my refrigerator door so that it opens in the right direction... this involved buying my very own ratchet set. Yes, I can get really excited about a ratchet set AND a facial. Both are good fun! I am woman: hear me roar, watch me make home repairs and PLEASE don't interrupt my mani/pedi!

Ran into a friend on the street in front of my apartment and ended up having her come up and help me get rid of some of my extra wine and laughing our asses off.

And with all this going on I have my friend obligations that I've already bollocksed up and looming large is the fun fun FUN of doing my taxes!

All this was a very long-winded way of saying: I haven't been blogging much because I've been a little busy.

I'm hoping that starting next week I may have a little more free time, or will have at least gotten adjusted to being really swamped and find a way to find a few minutes to blog. The past few weeks I've just been sort of slammed with new schedules, serious running around, and a mind burdened with the thousands of things I want to do and it's just made it hard to think clearly. But next week... next week will be calmer.

I think.

A little Basil.... a little Nick

2009-03-24T11:58:00.004-04:00

Very little time to spare, but I took a few minutes to throw this together because I needed to clear my camera's memory and because it made me laugh. Keep an eye on the upper right corner for Nick's cameo appearance. (and Basil's so-so imitation of tough guy Edward G. Robinson... we got the cookies, see... get outta town, see...)

I'm bleary-eyed exhausted and yet....

2009-03-19T11:48:00.002-04:00

I still found time to make this little video. Because I didn't have to think up words, just had to look at the pretty pictures and click the mouse. I do love technology.

The Hazards of Volunteerism

2009-03-17T00:13:00.003-04:00

Many Thanks to lovely and hilarious Salty Miss Jill for sending* this amusing and important news story from the highly respected ONION. As I continue my volunteer book recording, I will heed the warning inherent in this story: Don't Drink and Read.

*Also many thanks my dear Jill for giving me a quick and easy blog post since I've been too swamped to come up with one on my own!

A Day

2009-03-01T17:13:00.001-05:00

The past few weeks I've been pretty much swamped, that's probably evident from the dearth of new postings here. My mind just ain't firing on all cylinders of late, which could make for some entertaining stream of consciousness posts, but the odds are against so I'll spare anyone who might wander in here and attempt to read.

Happily it looks like I might have a small reprieve from the busy-ness. Well. As of Tuesday, maybe. Then again things just keep popping up out of the blue so I don't want to jinx any free time that might be a-comin'.

Yesterday was a little less harried, but coming on the heels of weeks of crazy it still seemed like a lot.

First there was the new volunteer gig: recording books for the blind and Dyslexic at RFBD - a really nice organization that records all sorts of books for anyone who cannot access written material due to visual impairment, learning disabilities, what have you. I've always wanted to record books - since I was a teenager! I used to sit in the shade while my mother baked in a lounge chair getting her all-important tan, and read aloud to her. It was a way of sharing in her sun-worshiping ways without actually having to endure the sun. And of course being the happy go lucky child I was I was certain that one day I would not only lose my hearing but also my vision and so taught myself the ASL alphabet and braille. You know... just in case. So I was keyed into the spoken books for the blind way back then but had no clue how to get involved.

Thanks to NYCARES I found a way to do it! So yay!!

So the first part of my day was spent learning the ropes of recording books and then reading a real charmer called Of Woman Born. The subject matter, to say the least, was of interest to me, with my mother issues. And of course I got to start reading the chapter entitled Motherhood and Daughterhood. OH let me tell you: fun! ... oh the delights of reading THIS out loud! My director was cracking up and kept assuring me that most books were not quite so 'scandalous' as this one. I mean the part where the author (in first person) talks about seeing her mother naked in the bath is one thing, her father's 'dangling penis' was another, but I guess the best was her discussion of masturbation and how disappointed everyone was that she wasn't a boy. Each session you get a different book so the next book is sure to be a let down after this party! But it was such fun I can't wait to see what I get to read next week.

Then it was home to work on a proposal for a friend that is due: TOMORROW***. One of three projects that are due asap. AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! Happily I do tend to work best under pressure, but I always hate it when it gets to that point.

After a couple of hours of that it was time to walk the delightful Mr. B who is typically full of fun, but last night he was GONZO! That dog was bouncing off the walls and a riot - but the trouble here was that I had to get downtown directly after his walk to attend a performance by the great and wonderful Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak that I had promised I would not miss (since my cranky hands caused me to miss the last show... talk about scandal!)

Getting Mr. B to go home was not easy. In my rush to pull all the nonsense of my life together and get out the door to walk him I had forgotten an essential tool of dogwalking: treats. I usually bring him baby carrots because he loves to eat like he's starving but has a tendency to put on weight and I do NOT want to be the cause of a doggie's weight problem. But I had totally forgotten and had no time to backtrack home to retrieve the yummies. So instead I took Mr. B to a local pet shop to pick up something treaty. Unfortunately the place was a mad house. They sell puppies. It's not good.

Normally I don't give this place my patronage because pet store puppies come from puppy mills and puppy mills are the worst kind of horror show. Only because of Mr. B's needs did I even consider going to this place. I know it made him happy to have the liver treats, but me? I feel a bit sullied that I gave this place $5. That'll teach me to forget the treats.

But then happy-happy because it was off to the subway downtown. Of course, not happy because of the subway... no. Let's face it, when you're being eyeballed by a shady character who is taking up 3 seats to himself because he needs to spread his legs like he's a ballet dancer - clearly the man's balls are enormous and need lots of airing out, poor thing he certainly needed all the space. That silly old woman with the heavy groceries didn't need to sit. HIS TESTICLES needed ROOM. Have I ever mentioned how irritated I get by this sort of outright rudeness in public? I'm thinking: yes. So I'll spare you hearing it again. The 'happy' was because I was going to see Comic Tales and that is always a happy occasion.

I'm even going to share a little bit of it with you here, because I know you want it. Almost as much as 'ball guy' was sure I wanted him. Lord help me.

See what you miss when you don't come to these shows? Of course those of you outside of the New York area have ample excuse, but even so...

And now that I've recounted yesterday I'm off to walk Mr. B and make sure he gets a little extra walk time to make up for my preoccupation with my nutty life yesterday. Good boy B!

*** Just found out that this deadline was extended a week! Oh yes, there is a God of Procrastination out there somewhere looking out for me!

Creating Your Own Destiny

2009-02-26T11:10:00.000-05:00

I have been swamped with happy work - this is amazing to me. I have always been able to find a way to pay the bills - well... except for that awful time that I don't want to get into right now. But unfortunately that 'way' almost invariably ended up being in some job that was in no way whatsoever what I wanted to be doing. And yes, that means it was in an office in a secretarial position. Sometimes the money was great, sometimes it sucked, but the truth is either way was bad, bad, bad for me. Following a 9-5 life is not good for me. It's too constrictive, too predicated on some bizarre whim that says even if you have nothing AT ALL to do and even the paper clips in your drawer have been organized in accordance to size (I dare not tell you how many jobs I've had where doing just that was the high point of my day and the most productive thing I'd do in a week) that you must still sit at some desk twiddling your thumbs until 5pm.

Have I mentioned how much I hate that? Yeah. Probably about 2 million times.

I've said it before and will continue to say it: the worst day walking dogs is still better than the best day in an office.

I am still amazed that I am being paid to walk with dogs. It's the most incredible feeling to do something so fun, and that I truly feel serves a much needed purpose - for the dogs and for their people - and get paid for it! It's unbelievable to me, as I'm sure it will be to anyone who has ever worked with me in an office, that I am not only on time to this job but that I am often early! And when I go 'over time' (which happens with some regularity because I lose track of the time, or the weather's great, or the dog is just having too much fun to make them go home) I don't mind at all. I don't get paid for that overtime, which is fine because it's my choice - unlike the last office I worked in where I always stayed late and very, very rarely got paid for it.

Even more amazing to me is how many dogs keep falling into my lap, so to speak. It's like some magnetic canine pull. Like these pups have just been waiting for me to finally figure out that THIS was a good move for me. It's also a lot like a book I've owned for years and never could quite 'get' called "Do What You Love and the Money Will Follow". Well, you know sure I've pursued lots of things I've loved - ain't none of 'em ever had the money following. But this time it seems to be in sync and that is still astounding me.

The other thing is how good I feel all the time now. Make no mistake: I get incredibly tired, and I have had some bad issues with my hands aching to a ridiculous degree (from holding on too tight with certain new dogs who have been big 'pullers'). But even when I'm hurting, and too tired to even send an email to keep in touch with people, or to read, or to knit (ouch!), I'm happy.

I'm doing work that makes me happy and pays.

That is a sentence I never believed I would write. Ever.

It makes me feel like for once I really am in control of my own destiny. Probably my new-found obsession with Bikram Yoga is adding to that, but I think most of the credit goes to the dogs. And after all, we all know what dog spelled backwards is - don't we.

Namaste baby, Namaste.

Namasté

2009-02-16T08:15:00.001-05:00

Yoga is something I've always 'thought' about. Sure I grew up with everyone's favorite PBS braid on Lilias, Yoga & You, sure I own a yoga dvd (watched it once), and most assuredly I have always had a huge trepidation about taking a yoga class.

Which means I ain't never taken no yoga class.

In general I am not a 'class' person any way, reminds me too much of *shudder* gym in school; but I have taken various classes from time to time in my life. The worst of which being the spin class my beloved trainer-turned artist, Rafael, agreed to take with me just so I'd try it. That was once. We both nearly died - spinning sucks! (she says cheerfully while vowing: NEVER AGAIN!)

So taking a yoga class has been one of my many fears. One of those things I kinda wanted to try but never could get myself to do... like swimming (which I can do now thanks to a ten-minute swimming lesson from Gary in Mexico.)

Yesterday Miss X's mom and I were planning to take a yoga class together. She's done it before, a pro that girl, but she had agreed to try something new: Bikram yoga. Yes, the one that's done in a crazy-hot room for 90 minutes. Prior to the event she sent me these three stages to prep me for the challenge. I reprint them here for your amusement.

for me there are 3 stages of yoga:
1. the "yoga is a good idea" stage before going to yoga.
2. the "why the fuck did I decide to do this it's too fucking hard" stage while doing yoga and
3. the "that wasn't so bad and I feel really good" stage when I'm done.

Well, as it turned out the poor thing came down with a tummy flu on Saturday night and if there's one place you don't want to be when you're sick is in a 105 degree room doing yoga. Uh-NO. So sadly we were not going to take the class.

Thing is I had gotten myself VERY excited about trying this, I mean I made a commitment to buying a mat (very pink and floral, so girly) I really wanted to use it - at least once - before it got relegated to the back of the closet. The only problem was the fear. The fear of yoga. The fear of the class environment. The fear of the goddamned heat. And the fear that if I didn't do it now I never would.

I did the back and forth with myself for hours: do-it. No way. DO IT. No WAY. DO IT I SAID! (oh shit was that my mother's voice?)

The two things that pushed me over the edge to just go - alone and terrified - were

1) the class for beginners was given only on the weekends. Beginners are welcome to all classes, but the beginners-only class is just on the weekends. I didn't want to wait until next weekend, and I didn't want to go into a full-out class unprepared. I figured since this particular class is limited to 10 students the worst that would happen is I embarrass myself in front of 9 students and 1 teacher maximum. I can deal with that.

2) I realized that if I could go swimming with dolphins in a country where I barely speak the language, when I didn't know how to swim and I was traveling solo, that there was no logical reason I couldn't haul my ass two blocks away from my apartment and take a yoga class. So I did it.

HOLY HELL. Can I just say right here: YOGA IS HARD! BIKRAM YOGA IS INSANELY HARD!

And I'm going back this morning for another session.

Yeah. It was hard, but it was great. I was the only one of the 10 beginner students who had to stop (more than once) because I honestly thought I was going to throw up. BUT the teacher was really encouraging and the whole deal is to do your best, listen to your body, keep trying, do not compare yourself to anyone else in the room, and most of all just stay in the room. As she said: As long as you're in the room, you're doing yoga. Just stay in the room.

Staying in the room is hard enough, let me tell ya. It's a sauna, not that I've ever been in a sauna either, but you get the picture. I felt sick and dizzy and nauseated... but I stayed in the room. I stopped when I really needed to and then got back into it. And you know what? I did 100% better than I could ever have imagined. No one was more shocked than me that I could do some of these crazy poses and not tear a ligament or fall on my face. So I'm going back today to try again. Maybe I'll do better than yesterday, maybe I'll do worse but the main thing in Birkram, as in life, is "stay in the room".

Not such bad advice, is it?

Adjusting to the changes

2009-02-05T06:32:00.000-05:00

Things have been hectic here - which is kinda great, and kinda not. Great in that my day to day has switched up quite a bit, not great in that my day to day has switched up quite a bit.

2009 - the year of change. That it is. And I'm a big believer in the good of change, no lover of routine here. But change isn't always easy and while I'm loving the changes that are going on in my life I'm missing (just a little) the way it was. My free time has gotten a bit less free and that means less time to loll around reading, making things, trying new recipes, and blogging. But on the up side it means lots and lots of walking around the city and the park with sweet, sweet doggies. I know I might be a little too in love with the canines, but honestly they are such great models for living. Every day is new, every moment is lived RIGHT NOW and worries about the future are pretty much nonexistent. Dogs know we don't have anything except this moment and they seem pretty happy with that. Seems to me that's a pretty good philosophy of life.

Of course being humans we have a few more responsibilities (taking care of said live-for-today pups being one of 'em for me) and so thinking ahead just comes with the territory. Remembering to relish being alive right this minute seems to be a a good way to keep worry about those responsibilities (and goals) from becoming overwhelming.

When I'm out with a dog I sometimes start thinking 'the shoulds'. I should be writing. I should be doing laundry. I should be finishing that book I was reading. I should be.... Then I look down see that happy dog-smile on the creature walking next to me and I remember - what I SHOULD BE is right now. Our lives whip by at lightening speed and we worry so much about the coming moments that we lose the current moments to a future that never happens - because all we are is right now.

When we're in pain, or feel alone in the world, it's hard to focus on the now. Our minds take us to imaginary scenarios of bleak futures where nothing gets better, nothing changes. Our minds are powerful places - they can keep us locked in a cycle of remembered hurts that keep us from experiencing the little delights of life, the tiny things we take for granted, the things that make life so amazing. We want faster, faster, more, more and when it doesn't come we become frustrated and continue the cycle of stressing and worrying about what we don't have and letting the moments and joys we do have slip by us without noticing them.

I'm not saying to live for today and the future be damned in some sort of hedonistic, irresponsible way. We can live and be happy in the moment while still being responsible and caring towards the earth and the creatures (us included) living on it. But worries and negative thinking about all the things we're not doing, not achieving, not having can keep us from seeing how very much we DO have, and how very, very lucky we are to be alive.

I guess what I'm saying is: make sure your shoes are comfy, that you have poop bags and treats in your pockets, hold the leash securely as you move forward and most of all, be here now.

Smart AND funny

2009-02-03T23:35:00.003-05:00

Yes, The Big Bang Theory is a very funny show about physicists - but REAL physicists can be funny too. And I like that.

Weirdness in the Wild

2009-01-31T00:11:00.000-05:00

I've seen animals do some quirky things. Many of these I've witnessed in the security of my own home. A 5 pound bunny pulling a heavy comforter from one room to another - repeatedly. A cat who eats cantaloupes and marshmallows and does imitations of The Blair Witch Project. A dog who... well, why get repetitive.

But yesterday I was walking a new pup - an adorable Shiba Inu who I will call Miss T (always to protect the anonymity of the fabulous canines). We went to the park and stumbled upon a squirrel party. A woman was feeding the little cuties almonds and the entire Central Park squirrel population must have gotten the memo - there were dozens of the fuzzy tailed fellas. Miss T was beside herself with delight. I felt like I had taken a kid to the zoo and it was all monkeys all the time.

It was big fun watching the ballsy little guys coming so close. They are seriously fearless. Were I a 10 oz squirrel I would not tempt fate by getting so close to a fiesty Shiba Inu,
but happily I am not a squirrel.

All of this was fun, but not particularly unusual - given the almond fairy who was the queen of the day in squirrel town. But then, one squirrel did something I've never seen (others who were watching expressed the same shock so I don't think it's just me being sheltered from the way of squirrels. I think this was fairly uncommon.) The little guy grabbed a hunk of icy snow from the ground, climbed up the nearest tree, settled in and chomped away on the frozen treat. I'm betting the nuts were making him thirsty, but still, I've never seen this before so I'm still in awe.

Hey, I'm easy, just ask the dogs I walk.

Dig the Freakiness

2009-01-16T17:14:00.003-05:00

It's so freakin' insanely cold, here in New York. When I took Basil out this morning (NOW he wants to go out!) it was 9 degrees with a windchill making it feel like -1. Not even close to balmy out there. Since I have some dog walking to do over the weekend and fear my regular two pair of pants, 16 shirts under a down jacket will NOT be enough, I decided to go buy long-johns.

I haven't worn long underwear since I was a kid (a 5' 4" kid, but still... a kid) and my mother had some that I would borrow out of desperation and... she was SO goddamned skinny they barely fit me which naturally created a life-long dread of the things because you know they could NEVER fit me since my emaciated, anorexic mother's were too small. yeah. Way to hold onto a thing, huh?

So I went out in the frigidness and got a super cheap set of top and bottom thermals- in the fat girl's worst nightmare color: WHITE! Because that was all they had left. Apparently other people have had the same idea as me, what with the freezing cold and all. Go figure.

Well. I decided I'd try them on and see just how horribly uncomfortable they would be - like they were back in the olden days. First of all - um... they fit. I mean they were actually kinda loose and I should have gotten a size smaller. That was shock number 1. Shock number 2 came when I braved looking at myself in the mirror.

I actually looked BETTER than I do in regular clothes! I mean... not to toot my own horn here but, I made these things look hot! Curves baby, curves.

I be needing some more of these things. I sense a new fashion trend.

You know, or not.

KHAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!

2009-01-15T22:43:00.000-05:00

Ricardo Montalbán is gone. I am sad.

So hot, so charming. Rich Corinthian leather AND Star Trek? C'mon - the guy had range.

I used to have a ridiculously large action figure collection, a good 98% is gone now, sold on eBay or given away. I kept a few of them, the ones I couldn't part with. One of them is my Khan, space-age super human played by the sizzling Richardo Montalbán in Space Seed. And reprised in the Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan. A hint of irony, a twinkle in his eye and a set of pecs that could make a grown woman weep.

RIP

Eleven!

2009-01-13T10:29:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was my birthday and it was possibly my best. I've had birthdays with more going on, the year of brunch at a French cafe followed by bowling at the Port Authority and a shopping trip to the Pink Pussy Cat boutique comes to mind, but this year was the birthday that FELT the best.

My birthday has always been a source of discomfort for me even when I was younger. This is probably because it falls right after Christmas and that meant the Christmas 'truce' between my parents was well over by January 12. Oh and because every year I get OLDER! ;) But mostly I'm always feeling blue on my birthday, sometimes robin's egg blue, sometimes full-out navy but there is always a tinge of the blue.

Not this year!

I have no real explanation for this change in hue from blue to rosy red except perhaps that this is an 11 year. Numerologically* speaking. Not only is 2009 an '11' year but this year I turned 47 which adds up to 11 (4+7=11). so I am in personally in an '11' year at the same time the world is in an '11' year and new-agey as that sounds I think there is something to it. At least in as much as it has affected me strongly enough that I actually looked forward to and ENJOYED my birthday and found nothing, not a smidgen to be disappointed about. An unprecedented event my dears, truly.

Last year I wrote myself a pep-talk letter on Futureme.org and set it to be sent on my birthday. I had completely forgotten I'd done this and it was fun and heartening to receive a letter from myself. I stressed to my 'future me' that no matter what was going on this year on the dreaded birthday that I should remember how blessed I am to be alive and how much I need to take care of, and care FOR, myself. Though I'd forgotten about that letter and what I'd written to myself, it must have been lodged in my subconscious because I was all about the happy attitude and the take care of ME vibe. I even made myself cookies the night before my birthday. Normally I wouldn't bother for myself. (Nice, huh?) For someone else I'd stay up all night making a cake, but never for myself. But this year... well, I would have made a cake, but I really wanted cookies. So there!

I've decided - decided now so that's that - that this year I will have two things (at least) in abundance: 1) Sex (let me qualify- GOOD sex) and 2) Money earned doing things I love.

"Oh JOY how very non-spiritual of you!" says the naggy little voice in my head.

Ah, hush up little voice - make way for the boys and the cash! says Me.

A clearly positive attitude is not always my strongest trait, however in this 11-11 year it seems to be coming incredibly easily. For this I am profoundly grateful. And there does seem to be something to the idea of BELIEVING a thing makes it so. This born out by the fact that on my birthday I actually made a nice little chunk o' change on my Etsy site and have new dog walking opportunities coming in left and right.

Now... on to the fun-lovin' menfolk. ;)

*The following is from Universal Life Tools

In numerology the number 11 is a Master Number – ‘Master’ meaning it is of intense/high vibrational frequency and works within the etherical, magical and transcendental realms of creation. Master numbers possess great potential for learning and growth, and can bring major transformations in life.

The number 11 is the most intuitive number and is a clear channel to the subconscious. It is the number of leadership, personal power and spiritual truths. The number 1 by itself represents leadership, initiative and new beginnings… thus two number 1’s together opens a gateway of potential far greater than the sum of its parts.

Merry and Bright... finally

2008-12-25T22:32:00.000-05:00

Well Merry Christmas, Happy Yule, Rock-on Saturnalia, and all. I spent this festive day watching a ton of movies, cleaning and at long last - decorating my Christmas Tree. Yeah. Day late, dollar short that's me.

I mean I bought the tree and put it up right after Thanksgiving. Put a string of lights on it about two weeks later and then today actually got my ass in gear and pulled out a box of bulbs. It's a tiny tree so a dozen bulbs and candy canes pretty much did the trick but man oh man WHY did it take until today to do it?!

Well... couple of reasons. 1) the insomnia situation - which seems to have finally resolved itself with the help of serious 'calming' teas and a fabulous little holistic pull recommended by a friend called Formula 303. This stuff is chock full of the dreaded stinky Valerian Root, Passiflora and Magnesium. You have to take it throughout the day to get the desired effect (SLEEP) but it certainly seems to work. I've been playing catch-up with Mr. Sandman for the past week and a half and let me tell you - it's NICE! Sure it would be nicer to have just slept normally every night instead of no sleep for a month followed by nothing BUT sleep for weeks but I've never been really good with moderation.

The insomnia left me awake but ambitionless. The sleeping has given me the energy and a rebound of some ambition (like actually giving the dog a bath!) but since I'm unconscious most of the day and night now I haven't had the TIME to do much of anything! Really. There's just no winning with me.

I did however manage to make a pan of Baklava (veganized, nice.) which is nothing like my usual Christmas cookie festival of baking, but at least it's something. And putting the few ornaments it will bear on the tiny tree has made me feel like it's finally Christmas... of course tomorrow it won't be. *sigh* Not that it matters - it's just a day after all and as long as the tree isn't dropping needles the way Basil and Nick shed there's no reason to take it down just yet.

But now it's after 10PM and I am simply wiped out from the frenzy of putting 12 small ornaments on a tree and plugging in the twinkle lights so I'm going to go back to bed, curl up with my 4 current books and promptly (wheee! I love that) pass out.

Merry Merry to everyone.

Lazy, yes - but funny

2008-12-19T13:10:00.002-05:00

Okay, okay maybe grabbing vids from youtube and using them as posts is a little lazy, but honestly I think these are so funny and adorable I couldn't stop myself. And let's face it, it was this or no post so I figure I'm doing okay.

These are from the fabulous Vampire Cowboys who do some of the most clever, innovative and plain ol' fun theater in New York.

First: Holiday Greetings

and now to get you through those holidays - instructions on making the Perfect Margarita

Special for Gary

2008-12-15T22:09:00.006-05:00

It's ADAMANTIUM.
It was done TO him!!!

Holiday Movies

2008-12-11T13:40:00.002-05:00

Thinking about my current bout of insomnia (for anyone keeping track I actually clocked a massive 5 hours last night with the help of a sleeping pill... not bad... oy.) naturally made me think of Christmas. Ho-Ho-Ho you say, Wha....? You see the insomnia has been with me since I was about 7 years old. I trace the roots directly to being awakened in the middle of the night by my parents fighting. It was the first fight I recall, the first of many. And it was a hushed sort of fight, you know the kind, when you still care about not waking the kid... To this day if I hear voices in that 'tone' through a wall I tense up. Any way, it was that first nocturnal sparring match on the other side of the wall that was, I believe, the primary cause of my lifelong sleep problems. Ah well, c'est la vie. Or c'est la guerre to be more precise. You'd think I'd be past it, yet I suppose I still have that deeply ingrained vigilance, as well as the fear of the vulnerability of sleep.

How in the hell does that remind you of Christmas, you ask. Good question!

Because I was up all night any way, I started my own little Christmas tradition when I was very young. One of the local tv stations would broadcast A Christmas Carol (the 1951 Alister Sim version) every Christmas eve at midnight. I would make hot cocoa for myself and grab a candy cane and whichever dogs and cats were around and watch the movie while my parents slept. It was a solitary, calming way to start off the one and only holiday that was peaceful at my house.

To this day, if it is being aired on television I will do the same. Of course, if it's not being aired I do have my own copy.

But while A Christmas Carol has its special time-slot and tradition, there are many other movies that say Christmas to me. These must be watched at this time of year, though several are year-rounders. (Have I mentioned how very much I need to get out more????) So here, in no particular order, are my holiday movies:

Moonstruck

Die Hard

The Holiday

Miracle on 34th Street

It's a Wonderful Life

Strange Days

The Twilight Zone: The Night of the Meek

The Man in the Santa Claus Suit

The Little Drummer Boy (for when you REALLY want to get weepy!)

Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

A Charlie Brown Christmas

Home for the Holidays

and of course
A Christmas Carol

yawn

2008-12-10T01:11:00.000-05:00

Let's talk about Valerian Root tea for a moment, shall we? Yes. It isn't knocking me out the way I thought it might, but apparently it can take a couple of weeks of use before it starts to kick in. In the meantime it does seem to be having at least some relaxing qualities in my waking hours... which is good since my waking hours outnumber my sleeping hours by... a lot. Don't ask me to do this kind of ratio math. I have had a hearty 3 hours a night for the past few days. YES! Sounds like a lot huh? Think maybe I'm sleeping too much? Could be. ON JUPITER MAYBE!

So every night I'm mixing my sleeping draught... mwahahaha my magic potions... I feel like I'm in the 19th Century drinking my sleeping elixirs. Where's the laudanum, huh? WHERE? Oh the good old days when you could just get it over the counter.

I'm all for the natural sleep cures, I really am, it's just that I'd like to have something just knock me the hell out and let me sleep for more than 3 hours at a clip. I'm not asking for the moon here am I? Just 8-9 hours sleep a night. An Earth night. I know there are pills out there that will (or should) put you right to sleep. The fabulous 'dolls' of old... your Seconals, your Nembutals and other such "mother's little helpers". Oh sure there's reasons to avoid them. Things like that morning-after hangover, messing with REM cycles and of course that silly little problem of addiction but seriously I WANNA GO TO SLEEP already!!!

And I'd like it to be soon. I'd also like it to not have to be accompanied by cups of really, really foul smelling tea. I'm here to warn you right here, right now: Valerian Root S.T.I.N.K.S!!! Truly it smells absolutely awful. There's nothing about this fragrance that says: Yummy let me drink some of that and then go beddy-bye. No. It's nasty. (Though it does seem better mixed with something else, a little chamomile or another sleepy-time tea blend. It cuts the stench somewhat and makes it taste a little better too.)

Despite the fragrance issue I'm not discounting its efficacy. At least not yet. As I said, I am giving it a couple of weeks to see how it goes and even then (if it doesn't work... please, please let it work!) I wouldn't be able to discount it for anyone else. I'm a tough sleep. I can stay up and read, watch foreign films (subtitles, you know), play computer games, take the dog out, clean the apartment - all on two Lunesta. So I'm just pointing out that if the Valerian Root doesn't work for me, doesn't mean it won't work for someone else.

I just really, really wish it would work for me.

NOW.

Sing with me, won't you? All I want for Christmas is a good night's sleep, a good night's sleep, a good night's sleep... See? This is what happens when you don't sleep. You post inane blogs about how tired you are. *yawn*

The Tree, The Tree

2008-12-04T21:10:00.000-05:00

Last night I went to see August: Osage County on Broadway. What a fun show... dark, sure, but I love that sort of thing. Last night was also the lighting of the Rockefeller Center Tree. It is a huge event here, the type where seemingly millions of people push and shove to see the lights turn on a tree. It's the type of thing you want to avoid. I did attend the ceremony once back in the '80s with my mother. Let me tell you: it's as bad as Times Square on New Year's Eve - or worse. Too many people with no clue how to behave in a crowd. Or any where else apparently. But I was able to avoid most of that mess because I was happily sitting in a Broadway theater with one of my best theater buddies seeing a Pulitzer-prize winning hoot of a play.

But because I'm a sentimental Christmas-y sort I did bring my camera with me so that I could grab some 'first night' shots on my way home from the theater. Since the lighting was at 7PM and the show let out at 11PM I figured the crowd would be thinned. It was. Not entirely, but it was okay - if you knew where to walk. And as I've done this sort of thing before (note: Christmas sentimentality here) I got my views of the tree with no irksome crowding.

Here's a little slide show of my walk from the theater on 45th & Broadway to Rockefeller Center.

It's a touch bigger than the sweet little tree I picked up for my apartment on Tuesday (and have yet to decorate). But mine smells really pretty, it grew in North Carolina (hi Whim!) and truth be told who would want to deal with cleaning up the needles from that behemoth in Rockefeller Center? Not I, my friends, not I.

Despite being really tired (STILL!) I have been dealing with that ol' friend o' mine: INSOMNIA. So this evening I bought a box of Valerian Root tea. Here's hoping this stuff does the trick. *yawn*

The Good Mojo

2008-12-03T08:27:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, despite my favoring dog-talk to human-speak of late, I got into a conversation with a very nice fellow who told me he could tell I had "the good mojo" by looking into my eyes. Which gotta tell ya, was nice to hear but hmmmm.... Now this was in the course of a conversation about suicide and mental illness so don't let's think someone was trying to pick me up. Let's take a moment to giggle uproarioulsy at the mere idea. Ahhhh... that was fun, eh?

The discussion was about some people in his life that had been through, and are still working through, some of the same issues I've been dealing with my entire adult life and it reminded me that, of course, that was the reason I began this blog in the first place. To offer some hope to others tht it is possible to overcome your demons, or at least keep them at bay, so that you can actually live your life.

For a long time now this blog has just been about what I've been doing with the life I had every intention of ending in 2004. I think that's valid, a show by example sort of thing. But I also see that by not delving much into what brought me here in the first place I might vereing off track a bit.

The trouble is that at this point I find it hard to go back and talk too much about the 'bad times' because in some ways they are still here. Not that I'm suicidal - just that sometimes I get tremendously blue. Navy to black blue. I'm sure some of it is due to my ill-thought out decision to wean off my Zoloft a few months back. I imagine my poor serotonin levels are still recovering from that silliness. Never again kids - the pills are a 'go' for life. Literally and figuratively. But then again those blues may just be a result of the fact that I still have no feeling of purpose. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. And that's a shame because... uh... grown-up here.

Still, there is something to be said for just living. In fact there's a lot to be said for it. It's unfortunate that I have a little itch in my soul to actually BE something. To do something meaningful, important and maybe (if I may) something that I might be remembered for after. It's unfortunate because I don't have any idea what that might be, and as things stand, I don't see it happening. Of course we never do see what might be around the corner. That's the surprise of living, yes? Maybe my 'mojo' will bring me to a place where I can turn that corner and find a purpose. Maybe not. But at least I'm alive - and nothing is impossible as long as we're alive.

How do you read?

2008-12-02T11:48:00.000-05:00

I was talking a bit with Miss Jill, the salty, when she was here in my pretty city, about reading. Miss Jill is one of those folks - you know the kind: they READ. Like books! I'm always on the look-out for a new (to me) author that I can fall in love with and devour everything they've written. It's always best when I discover them late and they've already got a pile of things I can catch up on rather than waiting anxiously for the next new book to come out. But that's me, I like my gratification to be instantaneous. Waiting sucks. Surprising just how much waiting I actually do, considering how much I hate it. Okay, that was a tangent. Back to the books.

Whenever I meet another reader, I mean someone who when asked what three books they'd take to a desert island looks at me as if I'd asked them which limb they'd like removed, I like to see what they have read or are currently into. I'm also someone who will pry shamelessly into your bookshelves if I'm in your home because it fascinates me to see what people have on their shelves. The books they keep. The ones they can't part with. With bibliophiles who have not broken the addiction this can be quite an eyeful.

But another thing that I've only recently started asking people is how they read. Not just what they read. It's interesting really. Some people only read when they're on the train, or commuting. Some only read right before bed. Some only do audio books... huh? Others have a book with them at all times for those odd times waiting on line or to meet someone and can dive into the pages for a bit. Some people read the last page first to see if the book will be worthwhile... which I could never do. (And in the case of certain books I wish I had!) Some read methodically - one book at a time, never starting a new one until the first is finished. Some swallow books whole, some savor them slowly and carefully.

My reading style is a lot like the rest of my life, which is why I think it's interesting to see how people actually read - I think it gives you some insight into their personalities. I have to have several books going at the same time. I can't bear to only have one at a time. This has always been my way since I was very young lugging tons of books at a clip out of the library. Oh wait... I still do that. Hmmm. The reasoning behind my reading style is that if I'm engrossed in a book, really swept into that world to the point of distraction, in love with the author's voice and never want to go any place else it is actually heartbreaking to me when it ends. I've been known to weep hysterically. So much so that I cannot even look at another book for weeks at a time because it's not THAT book. A new books means I have to shift gears, learn a new language, meet new characters and it makes it very difficult for the new book to win me over. Usually I end up leaving it. Those, sadly, are the rebound books. But I have found that if I start a few books at a time I will have a taste for that particular book banked in my mind and then I can go through whichever one pulls me in the most while still holding onto that glimpse of world in the next book(s). This way I'm not starting from scratch when I finish something I really loved. It makes the heartbreak easier to go from one beloved read to one that I've already begun and know will make me fall just as hard.

That's all for fiction, or biographies, of course. For non-fiction I'm a holy terror of never, ever actually reading the book through. I'll start somewhere in the middle, bounce around the thing picking out what I'm interested in and then put it down. Something about non-fiction just says research here, no need to follow the rules here, move it along people. But fiction... well, that's where the love is and that love is compounded if you find an author you can't get enough of and you're lucky enough that they have written a lot - all equally compelling (to you). That's a special love affair. If they are living you can catch up and then there is even more to come! If they are already dead, well... at least you know you will be able to read every-little thing they've written.

So how do YOU read? Come on, spill. I'm curious.

oh hai*

2008-12-01T17:20:00.001-05:00

I have been completely wrapped up in the land of the wondrous and lovely doggies full time to the point of exhaustion for more than the past two weeks. It has been incredibly fun (you want to pay me for this??) and incredibly ass-whoopin'! Walking more than 7 hours every day - every day - can really take a toll. Of course one toll it took was removing 1.75" off each of my thighs. Hellll-o. I think that's kind of a 'gift from dog' as it were. Oh sure the scale hasn't budged, but I went down a jean size and you know, I'm really not going to complain about THAT!

Trouble with all that dog-time is that you forget how to communicate with people who don't have tails. I mean, humans. Full sentences that follow a logical pattern, with an actual point are typically expected. This is difficult after a day full of "Good BOY!" and "What a pretty, pretty baby!" Oddly I don't usually talk to the dogs that way, in fact when I do it to Basil he gives me the stink-eye. How DARE I speak to him like he was some ... some ... infant!! I typically speak to Basil, and the other dogs, in full sentences and as if they will in fact answer me in similar fashion. Not that they ever do, but it often seems they might. Still when confronted with human conversation during this canine-intensive time I have found I'm making little to no sense when I speak with people. I'm thinking it's because I've been so tired. Either that or the brain has finally decided to pack its bags. (I'm hoping for the fatigue.) I think I have more empathy for stay-at-home moms who forget how to speak-adult after a while. You're tired, you get into a rhythm and all that comes out of your mouth is "HOW CUTE ARE YOU???" Of course, I think puppies are far cuter than any human child, but that's me.

I've also been doing the bulk of this wild-eyed walking on the Westside. If you've read here before you might recall that I am an Eastside girl. I get confused once I cross west beyond Fifth Avenue. So avoiding getting lost while escorting the pups has added a level of stress that probably made me more tired than it would have if I'd been on my home turf. The fear that those Westsiders would somehow smell the Eastside on me and boot my ass back across the park was strong. For the most part however it was fine. There was the one encounter though...

I was walking the incredibly cool Bull Mastiff, who I will call Mr. D in the small park area that sits behind the Museum of Natural History on Columbus Avenue. On my way to pick him up I had noticed a polar bear on the roof of the museum which I am PRETTY sure I'd never noticed before. It being the sort of thing you would notice. While Mr. D and I were strolling we met an older woman walking a teeeny-tiny little Yorkshire Terrier. Cute as hell to see the giant dog and the petite puppy making friends. While the dogs made friends the woman asked me, completely out of nowhere if I knew where the Museum's ice-skating rink was. Now I have been totally out of touch with the world - no news, no nuthin' so I hadn't heard anything about this thing. But I HAD seen that Polar bear and I told her about it. We agreed that must be where the skating rink was located. Score! Then she asked if I was from the neighborhood and I told her (sheepishly and stepping back so she wouldn't hit me) that I was from the Eastside. She huffed, "EASTSIDER" and turned her back. (then she turned back, it was a joke - but a very, very appropriate one). Shocking... I didn't think anyone over there HAD a sense of humor. She must originally be from the Eastside. I have mentioned the New York East/West thing to people before (people who aren't from these parts) and they have scoffed at me. Because I'm clearly a big dork who knows nothing (I get this a lot). This small exchange was quite validating in that NO, it's not something I made up! Ooh, I must be angry with someone, huh? ;) Of course the East/West issue is not a feud of Hatfield/McCoy proportions, it's just a New York 'thing' and in fact I DO have some friends who live or have lived on the Westside... I hardly ever think badly of them. (I do feel a little sorry for 'em, though.)

So welcome to December! I hope the perkiness I'm feeling today will continue I feel like I haven't written anything in years.

*for those of you who are not quadruped-lingual, according to the hilarious site I Has A Hotdog that's "Oh Hi" in dog (and cat).

I'm so sorry

2008-11-11T10:09:00.003-05:00

This is possibly the most evil thing I could ever do... but I was compelled by the power of PUPPIES!

Watch.

5 weeks old today... my biological puppy clock is TICKING!

First Time

2008-11-05T18:09:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I brought a book with me to wait on line to vote. I only got to read for about 25 minutes because the line was not quite as long as it had been when the polls opened -- when it circled the block twice.

We all knew the voter turn-out would be huge yesterday, four years ago my particular polling place was more crowded than I'd ever seen it before so it was not brain surgery to expect yesterday's crowd would be even bigger.

I vote every time I can. I do the primaries, the city council stuff, any time I have the opportunity to pull the lever in that little booth I do it. I have been doing that since I turned 18 in 1980 and my first election was for president. I was devastated when I heard my candidate had lost. It wouldn't be the last time. But despite losing faith, despite extreme cynicism about politics, I never, not once, gave up the opportunity to exercise my right to vote and have never understood how anyone could. When I was away at college I submitted absentee ballots - okay my presidential candidate lost that one too, but still - I voted. My feeling on it is, if you don't vote you lose the right to bitch and moan about the government. You vote, you have a say. And as a woman not voting is a slap in the face to all those women who came before us and fought for and won the right. So crowds or no, I brought a book and got on line. I was the 211th voter in my election district, and one of the volunteers running the table for my district was named JOY. She was a BABY people, she was born the year I graduated college! But while I waited for my turn to go into the booth we shared "growing up Joy" war stories. Ren and Stimpy, Three Dog Night and of course the lovely hell of Christmas carols. But we both agreed that after a certain age the name ain't so bad. And we also agreed that the privilege we have, the RIGHT we have to vote is a very special thing indeed.

I was so gratified to see so many 'kids' so many first time voters turning out - regardless of who they were voting for the fact that they actually were galvanized enough to get out and get their voices heard was so incredible, so uplifting. And it reminded me so much of the excitement I felt that first time. I still feel it to varying degrees, but I never forget that very first election and how proud I was to cast my ballot. I had been the wacky über-politically aware kid - I don't know how the hell I was so into it, but when McGovern lost my heart broke. I was ten.

I voted early in the day yesterday - I intended to go when they opened but a neighbor warned me about the lines and since people have to get to work in the morning and I don't have to get any where I saw no reason to hold them up when I could go later. After I did vote I had a lot of running around to do and had (amazingly) put the whole thing out of my mind - though I fully planned to watch the results later that night.

In the evening, between two dog walks I stopped at the pet store (hello Joy, it's always the dogs!) to get Basil's food. The cashier was a kid - but he must have just turned 18 this year because he asked me (as people will... honest, I must look like information central) if he could register to vote any where. I was so upset, thinking he hadn't registered and I would have to be the one to point out to him that it was too late and he would miss the chance to vote in this election. But it turned out he had registered, what he meant was could he just walk in and vote at any polling place. WHEW. I set him straight and as he was getting out of work at 8pm he said he had plenty of time to get to HIS assigned polling place. I said: "You have to do it!" He said: "I WILL, I can't WAIT!" And I felt that same rush I had when I was 18 and knew that I had the power to make my voice heard. I imagine his candidate won (unlike my first election) and I hope that rush stays with that kid as long as it has with me.

YES!

2008-11-04T23:05:00.002-05:00

Undaunted

2008-11-01T14:37:00.000-04:00

The last week has been an unmitigated whirlwind for me. Busy just like a little, tiny beaver over here. Putting together a grant proposal for a friend - last minute as ever (it's good I work best under a strict deadline!), meeting the WONDERFUL dogs I'll be temp-dog walking later in November - which naturally happened on the coldest, freezing rainiest day of the week, cleaning my apartment - you know... a little, making a nice comforting pot of vegan stew, holding a girl's night of playing hairdresser where I actually cut curly hair for the first time and dyed black hair red and it looks GREAT!, meeting a friend for lunch who I haven't seen in AGES, walking my weekend dog during the week for my friend who is soooo sick (but her new red hair looks awesome, so what's a little flu?), sadly finishing a book I've been reading as slowly as possible to make it laaaaast because I LOVED it so much (The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope - read it!), attending a reading of a new play that was awesome, just generally running around like the proverbial chicken without a head.

So um, yeah, busy. And it ain't over!

Today is November 1st which means NANOWRIMO started at midnight! Undaunted by the past couple of years failure to complete the month-long free-for-all novelling process that is NaNoWriMo, and absolutely unprepared to try again, bolstered by the fact that I DID finish it once, I am trying yet again this year. I put 1,847 words down sometime around 3 a.m. which means (for today at least) I'm ahead of the projected daily wordcount of 1,667 (which, if done diligently, will bring you to the 50,000 word minimum required to claim winner status at NaNoWriMo).

So now I am sitting with my own head full of peroxide and some shade of red, who knows what - but yeah, it's my natural color... sure, okay. And trying to figure out the best route to go straight from my dog walking to Groove, where Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak are playing and where you should be tonight as well... Seven to nine p.m. people. I assume that somewhere around 9:15 I will be ready for a nap.

For a change, a happy story

2008-10-27T08:42:00.000-04:00

Watch more AOL News videos on AOL Video

I want to go to Cleveland!

2008-10-26T10:28:00.002-04:00

Sadly I can't go. But if you live in Cleveland or nearby maybe you could go then tell me all about it!

My favorite cross-dressing comedian/actor doing a Q&A with they guy I wanted to be President.... If Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak were going to perform with them I suppose my head would explode right now.

Seriously.

An Amusing Musical Interlude... or three

2008-10-25T16:48:00.002-04:00

Eyes! Hair! Mouth! Figure! Dress! Voice! Style! Movement!

2008-10-22T11:38:00.003-04:00

There's a lot about Sarah Palin that has reminded me of Eva Peron. Wonder why? Hmmm.

Update:

I finally did it!

2008-10-21T12:01:00.004-04:00

I have a tremendously addictive personality and it does me no favors in many areas of my life. One of those addictions that has come and gone my entire life is television. I can spend hours watching marathons of shows I've seen hundreds of times and then when it's done I realize how much time I've lost to a seriously mindless time-suck. It irks me!

My addiction to that moving picture box is such that for a time when I could not afford cable -- which you absolutely need to get any sort of reception in NYC -- I would watch ANYTHING. I lived in a huge apartment building in Brooklyn and there was a video camera aimed at the front doors. It was hooked up so that you could actually watch it on your tv, so you could see who was ringing your buzzer and such. People, I would alternate between watching that for hours and the two other stations that came in on my non-cable television. Those other stations being the Home Shopping Network and some local station that aired Ben Casey reruns at 3:00 a.m. (Insomnia has it's benefits, huh?) Needless to say I am now an expert on video survellience of the pizza deliveries to a certain building in Brooklyn, Technibond jewelry and Ben... Ben Casey.

I also have a wonderful friend who would video tape the one show I NEEDED and mail me 8 hour tapes full of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (but I only love it when Joel is on!) I still have those tapes. Thank you Sandy! When my boredom with my three channels overcame me I would pop in the videos and have them play endlessly in the background while I did other things. For some reason I could walk away from the show I wanted to see and was riveted to the others. Hmmm. It's like when you see a movie you love and want to watch and end up falling asleep but when it's something that you're hating you can't seem to look away. Or is that me?

Since living in Manhattan I have had cable. This has been so, so bad for me. Endless programming I have no interest in... and I cannot seem to look away. It's not quite as bad as my computer addiction which let me tell you, frightens me sometimes it's so bad, but it's bad.

So this morning I finally bit the bullet and cut my cable down to the absolute basics (so I get the news, um... you know the news). I'm so delighted with myself I can't express it. Of course when Battlestar Gallactica returns I'm going to be mighty upset, but that's what dvds are for, right?

Now if I could just stop playing online Canasta....

We The People...

2008-10-13T22:18:00.001-04:00

Under the flashier election headlines and the stock market craziness more sinister doings are going on in the USA. Very, very terrifying stuff. So terrifying in fact that we who have taken our freedoms for granted all our lives cannot wrap our minds around it. To ignore this will be our ruin.

It runs 27 minutes, but trust me - you have the time. Watch it.

The Rep. Brad Sherman clip mentioned in the clip above is here.

The buried videotape of arrests during the RNC can be seen at EndofAmericamovie.com under "Step 9" here.

We all know that eight years ago the election was stolen. If that can happen, what else can happen?

"In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist;

And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;

And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;

And then . . . they came for me . . . And by that time there was no one left to speak up."

Justification

2008-10-10T09:33:00.000-04:00

I'm sure there are others of you who will agree with Bette Jo's comment to my previous post. Stepping out on Basil... it is not pretty. But it's just walking - honest. Okay there may be a treat involved... and a chin scratch - but that's all! Honest! I want to be true to my one and only but how much can a woman take? How many eye-rolls and fake-outs until you finally say, Hey, I do love you best, but I have needs. I'm going to walk other dogs. How long people?

This is an minor example of what I deal with every single day, several times a day. This tug-of-war if you will began after Basil indicated quite strongly that he did need to go out. It's first thing in the morning after he ate his breakfast.

Every. Single. Day.

Again with the pictures

2008-10-09T16:30:00.006-04:00

When I go running I don't bring a camera because, you know, running. But on the weekends when I do some dog walking (we'll call him Mr. B for his anonymity) I have pockets, and am not running, so I bring the camera.

I originally just meant to take a shot of the many signs that tell people what is not allowed on the running track (not that they think that applies to THEM) but it was just about sundown and things were looking so pretty I just couldn't stop.

Then of course when it really got dark and the moon was out...

Probably needless to say but I also managed to get lost because it was dark and my uncanny sense of direction was in full force. *sigh* I was thankful to have a dog with me who does know where he is and I don't think he minded that our walk went a little long because of it. And neither did I.

Basil on the other hand is not thrilled with my coming home smelling of other dogs. It's unseemly. Apparently.

Though as I told him: if you won't walk with me, I'll find someone who will.

Yeah. I know. I need to get out more.

Don't Vote

2008-10-03T07:30:00.003-04:00

Think your vote doesn't count? Guess again. It's your right. It's yours. Use it.

If you haven't registered yet go HERE to see what the deadline is for your state.

Describe Yourself!

2008-10-02T15:44:00.001-04:00

To thine own self be true. Yup. I'm back in Hamlet land. (but just for a sec, promise!)

It's not always easy to be true to yourself, but it's a helluva lot easier than describing yourself. Being true to yourself: that comes up situation by situation, and you just 'do' what you have to do. But when asked, "tell me about yourself" what the hell do you say?

I suppose we all have a quick 2-3 line intro prepped for those first-time meetings with people we either want to impress, ingratiate ourselves to, or simply fuck; but does that intro line really say anything? Is it possible to distill your entire personality into 100 words or less? If it is... is that someone you want to be? Personally I enjoy being more complex, though it can be a pain sometimes. Having exceptions to all rules and being extremely open to possibilities makes my 2-3 line intro really sketchy.

When I first meet people I tend to go for the most outrageous stuff I can make come out of my mouth. I figure, if they can take me at my weirdest/rudest (though funny, not cruel 'rude') and get the joke, then they are worth my time. If they go cold, they will NEVER understand me. Besides, if you can't play along with me, I really don't have the energy. I've spent too much of my life placating and pussyfooting around with people. It's not only a drag, but boring as all get-out. So that's what I do. Get out.

Guess I'm just a bitch. I don't like to be bored. Much as I dislike admitting it, there's a lot of people out there that just bore me to tears. It's not that they aren't nice people. It's not that they are actually particularly boring. It's just me. I think I need more stimulation than a lot of people, and I need conversation that provides that. The fact that I'm rarely, if ever, bored when I'm by myself indicates (to me anyway) that what really enervates me is feigning interest. God it takes so much energy to pretend to be interested when you're not. I suppose too that the quality that bores me in these altogether nice and pleasant people is a lack of passion... or a passion for something that leaves me thoroughly cold.

Something I've found is that even if we seem total opposites, if someone has a great sense of humor they never bore me. I used to work with a woman who, on the surface, could not have been more opposite from me. She was meticulously put together, I would oftentimes wear to work the very thing I slept in the night before. Yeah, I'm serious. She was on top of the current fashions, me... okay let's call it semi-classic with a touch of eclectic. But the thing we did have in common was a tremendous ability to see the humor in things - and to be thoroughly goofy. On first meeting the two of us I would put money on the fact that people would not be particularly surprised if I hid under a desk in say a law firm, as a practical joke. Funny thing is that SHE actually did it - not me. Oh lord did I laugh.

So where the hell am I going with this giant ramble? No idea.

I feel like I'm at a total loss as to who I am. I'm sort of all over the place and rudderless. Plans... I'm thinking having a plan would be a nice thing. Trouble is, I have no idea what that plan might be. Goals... again nice but I've had goals and met them and in the end what did they get me? Not at all what I'd thought.

I have probably got more email addresses than anyone I know. Each is for something different and I use 'em. My bookshelves go from Shakespeare, Victorian novels to chick lit and religious tomes and comic books. My record collection goes from old soul to Irish traditional to hymns, early punk to ... Wham!. (stop laughing) I'm all over the place in everything I'm interested in and where does this broad range of interests and likes get me? Unfocused and good at trivia. Whoopee.

My life's not getting any longer and I still feel like I'm in Junior High trying to figure out what the hell I want to be when I grow up. The closest thing to being a million different people I could find was acting, except it's not something I seem to have the necessary drive to actually do. Then again what do I have a drive for? Oh. Sex. The one thing that seems to be sorely lacking.

And believe me, admitting that in a public forum is as ego crushing a thing as I can do.

So there's my description of me. Long, unfocused and terrified that in ten years I'll be in the exact same place and in the words of Susan Hayward in Valley of the Dolls "wondering what the hell happened".

Ahh-Chooo! What was THAT????

2008-10-01T16:58:00.002-04:00

Despite not posting on anything even resembling a regular schedule, I do often compose blog posts in my head. Sadly by the time they are completed in that rickety place I call a brain I lose interest in recreating them in a concrete way (however concrete the internet is) and they are lost to the ether and the labyrinth that is my gray matter.

I was talking to Gary briefly this morning about this very issue. He's having the same problem. I'm glad to know I'm not alone in this. See, my mother used to take a bath every morning and would always go on about how she had written several letters while she was soaking. Needless to say there was never an actual letter. I defy anyone who ever knew the woman to come forward with an physical letter. Didn't happen. Though a few times she did manage to make a taped letter. Talking, so much easier. Any way when I compose these things in my head I fear it is an hereditary flaw and I'll just never write again. Like some genetic time-bomb has finally gone off in my head. Okay I mean like some OTHER genetic time-bomb has finally gone off in my head. But it seems to just be 'a thing'. A thing everyone goes through from time to time.

Another hereditary flaw that seems to have finally shown itself is allergies. My mother was a runny nosed, water eyed sneeze machine when the forsythia was blooming. Me: I'm allergic to two things: broccoli and metal. Otherwise nothing bothers me. Strong peasant stock right here. Send me into the potato fields! But a couple of weeks ago I was doing my little run around the Central Park Reservoir and feeling all full of myself since I can go around 3 times like it's nothing. For those keeping score that's 4.8 miles and I go a little further to up it to 5. So go me. Whee. I had plans that night, was all pumped from the run, took a shower and out of NOWHERE couldn't breathe through my nose and my throat was on fire. I assumed it was some insane cold that hit out of the blue. Though I've never had a cold come on with no warning like that... then I realized (after mentioning it to several people who know better) that colds do NOT happen like that. Nor do they pass so quickly. So yeah, seems I've developed some sort of allergy. Dammit.

On a less damn my genetics note my apartment is immaculate for a change. Due to the fact that I was having a couple of people over last Friday. Gary, Mark and Gregg (I do so love a house full of the handsome menfolk - what can I say?) came over for what was to be a preliminary blogger meet. Gregg aka Junk Thief flew in from California and it was his birthday so it seemed appropriate to have a little mini-event. What this meant to me was GOOD LORD I NEED TO CLEAN THIS DUMP! Seriously trapped within me is a 12 year old boy. I've gotten him to stop collecting sci-fi action figures and such, but he simply refuses to be tidy. Kids. So there was a mega cleaning needed 'round here before I could even dream of having anyone walk through that door.

Happily I got it done in time and now I reap the benefits of lots of cleared horizontal spaces and a really clean kitchen floor. Sure 'the kid' won't keep it up for long, but I figure I've got a week or so of neatness. Anybody wants to come by: do it now before the clothes start piling up on the kitchen table again.

Gregg was just lovely and I wish I'd gotten to meet the others who were gathering on Saturday. Unfortunately I have no gift for scheduling or directions and while I thought I could make it to the big meet-up I realized too late that there was no way. See, I've got a little job. YEAH, I know what a riot, huh? I'm walking a dog on the weekends (thanks to a couple of mah dog-lovin' sistahs who usually do it needing a sort of 'temp' dog walker.) So I'm donning my slut-wear and walking a dog - in a few weeks I'll be walking 7! It's like canine party time for me!

The photo above was clumsily taken later Friday night at the Rodeo Bar where Gregg and I went to see Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak. My batteries were, as usual, on their way out so my photos are sort of um... not so great. Well that and I was, how shall I put it? Oh, I know: loaded. Oy. I should never be allowed near an open bottle of red wine when I'm nervous. I'm told I was funny. Which is better than being obnoxious. So I'll take it. But Gregg was a real peach and took some video for me and the band was great so really, all in all a fabulous night.

Now all I have to do is try to keep the apartment decent, run without inhaling pollen, steer clear of wine and actually put my fingers on the keyboard here and everything should be dandy. That is... until the next thing, and there's always a 'next thing'.

Seriously, We REALLY Can't Have That

2008-09-22T08:25:00.001-04:00

This is Your Nation on White Privilege by Tim Wise

2008-09-22T08:14:00.001-04:00

For those who still can’t grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.

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Making... like with my hands

2008-09-17T23:57:00.001-04:00

For the past few months I have had little or no interest in talking to people, socializing or writing this blog. For someone who loves to run her mouth and loves words (the reading of and the writing of same) this loss of interest is just plain wack-o. Losing interest in things that you love or give you pleasure is, of course, a sign of Depression. However, when I was suicidal I wrote REAMS. Granted it was very boring, pity-party stuff, but reams of it nonetheless. I also yammered on and on to anyone who would listen. So this lack of interest in communication, whether spoken or written does not strike me as any sort of warning sign. Especially since my medication does seem to be kicking in again.

But despite my lack of wordy interest, I do feel the need for some sort of expression. Hello teaching myself the recorder? Yeah, that qualifies. But I have now found something else. Something that (HOPEFULLY) will prove not only rewarding creatively, but also monetarily (at least a little bit!)

I started an Etsy shop! Just like the clever, funny and crafty (as in crafts - not as in sneaky) Bette Jo I am making jewelry! Now granted mine is fun and cute, but it's not high fashion jewelry design like hers, but I would wear any of the pieces I've made. In fact I have been wearing some of the ones that have imperfections and that I wouldn't feel right about selling to someone but that work just fine for me.

So far I have only put up a couple for sale - it's a whole new world and it's taking me some time to navigate. But I'm making a couple of pieces a day so there will be more available soon.

Shameless self-promotion? You betcha.

Global warming: it's just "God huggin' us closer"

2008-09-14T21:00:00.004-04:00

Clueless

2008-09-12T15:17:00.001-04:00

I'm straddling complete enervation and total hyperactivity. It's kinda sucking. I have this 'on the verge' feeling and I'm not entirely sure what the verge is. My apartment is currently reliving its former life of complete disarray and clutter because I got it into my head that NOW was the time to paint the closets and finally, finally get rid of the last of the tchotchkes I want to sell on eBay or give away to charity. Believe me, I have more tchotchkes than a thrift store right now and that's after ditching hundreds of items. It's terrifying really, to think how much stuff I had and how much I still have. How is it possible? Well, partially because when people know you have the collector gene they give you things. I used to love getting stuff. The more stuff the better. Now I cringe at the thought of anything that is not actually USEFUL coming in my door. And I mean really useful. I'm so tired of getting rid of things and still never seeming to be done. Much of it is my own sentimentality and inability to let go of things. I am getting better about that. I actually gave my juicer to a thrift shop the other day. My JUICER! I loved it so! It's been in my closet for close to 10 years and I used it last, um... TEN years ago! Yeah. It's like that. So I'm a little brain fried right now. I don't even want to sort through this stuff - I just want to put it in the trash. But I can't make myself do it. I haven't honed my cut-throat de-clutter skills enough for that. Maybe one day. Maybe one day I won't need those skills any more because there will be nothing left to ditch!

I imagine if I continue to keep up my anti-social behavior I won't have to worry about it as I will have no friends left to give me stuff. So there's that.

I don't know why I have no desire to see or speak with anyone. It's that 'verge' thing. It's why I'm not interested in blogging so much lately too. I just don't feel like 'putting out' I guess. I don't feel like I have anything to say and I'm not in the mood to make it up. I think that what I want right now, and for a long while, is simply not something you can get from your friends.

On a less whiny note, these are some photos I took on a walk through Central Park last Sunday. The new photo up top is from the same day.

Matthew 7:3

2008-09-08T19:30:00.001-04:00

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

Oh hell, you're thinking: Joy's done gone over to the evangelical's at last. Well, it was bound to happen. After all a woman who wanted to be a nun as a child... Gotcha! I may not be gettin' any, as the kids say, but I'm not ready to check into the convent just yet. (give me a couple more years... at least.)

The Bible quote above, which of course is a part of a larger piece bashing hypocrisy, reminded me of a story. So I thought I'd lead off with that because... ya know, been away for a while and I'm not really sure how this blogging thing works any more!

A few weeks ago I finally got my ass to the optometrist for an exam. Reading has become a nightmare of squinting and holding books up to my nose, it was clearly time for new glasses. What a shock. Happens every year, just like taxes. I got a new scrip for glasses (which I have yet to fill because I've been, as mentioned, preoccupied with other health concerns). But I did get a new contact lens prescription and even ordered a supply of lovely, comfortable disposable lenses. I can even (sorta) read with them - which is a new development for me with contacts. Usually they are for social events only. Some of you may remember the last time I socialized in my old contacts and the hilarity that ensued from that little foray into blindness. So now I have new lenses that I can actually use to SEE! Fun! But I also still have a couple dozen of the old not so much good for anything lenses. I HATE waste. Rather than ditch the semi-useless lenses I did find a use for them. I wear them when I work out! I pop 'em in to go running, when I'm done I pop 'em out and throw them away (they are daily disposables after all). This saves me 'wasting' the old lenses and also saves me cleaning the new ones (they are weeklies). It's been working out really well.

Until last week.

I came home from a really hard run on a really hot day. I got into the shower and then remembered to remove my lenses. No problem it's not like I need a mirror to do that I can just reach into my eyeball and pull those puppies right out. So I did. But when I took out the left lens I felt a searing burning pain. Clearly some shampoo had gotten into my eye while I was removing the lens. I rinsed and rinsed and it finally felt better so I finished my shower, dried off and proceeded to collapse on the couch.

About 4 hours later - out of nowhere - the searing pain was back! WTF??? I ran to the bathroom and started rinsing my eye again and could find no relief. I was sure there must be a dog or cat hair in my eye, because they are both white it's often hard to spot a hair that gets in my eye. Yes, yes, this has happened before. Life with domesticated animals, it's a given. But no matter what angle I tried I could not spot the hair that was causing my eye so much pain. Then I spotted it. Something that completely freaked me out. There, in the white of my left eye, was an air bubble!

All I could think was somehow my eye was popping a blood vessal, or something like an optical aneurysm was going on. I was terrified. I tried to stay calm - no health insurance in this country means no E.R. without careful consideration and/or impending death. I stared into the mirror looking at the air bubble in my poor eye wondering if it meant I would soon be doing a Sandy Duncan/Sammy Davis Jr. and possibly having a really cool party trick to do in future when I noticed the jagged line. There was a jagged line in the white of my eye! DEAR GOD WHAT IS GOING ON???

Yeah. You've probably figured it out. Took me a bit longer. Seems the air bubble was not in the white of my eye but instead trapped under the half of my contact lens that had torn off when I removed it in the shower. When I pulled it out I didn't look at it I simply reached around the shower curtain and flicked it into the trash. What's to look at? Well, if I had looked I'd have known that the searing pain I felt and thought was shampoo was in fact the torn edge of the lens scraping against my poor delicate eye. Ouchie!!! D'OH!

Unfortunately the lens was now pretty hard to get out - being in half and all so it took some extensive, one-eyed, internet searching (Google: "how to remove a torn contact lens") and then a lot of flushing with contact solution and laying flat (laying down with your eyes closed apparently moves the lens back into position so you can get hold of it if it has migrated up under your lid. Good to know.) I finally managed to get the torn bit out with no lasting damage to my eye. It was a bit red the next morning from all the poking an prodding, but by the evening it was fine again.

Had I LOOKED at the lens when I removed it I would have saved myself a world of pain, trouble and desperate web searching. Look first to your own eye, before you can remove the mote from your brother's. See how that ties into the Bible story?

Yeah. I thought it was a stretch too. But you know I had to try.

Oh hi again

2008-09-07T14:57:00.001-04:00

A number of years ago (and by 'a number' I mean something like 15-20) I bought myself a plastic recorder. At the time I had never even heard of a recorder and was shocked to find it was such a common instrument and in fact was often used to start teaching kids music. I had never seen one, nor heard of them until the time I actually bought one. Yeah, sad, I know. But to my defense I must say I do not believe they were used in my school, I mean I saw flutes, clarinets, trumpets, trombones, xylophones and of course drums. But never once a recorder. So I think I have a vague excuse for being so ignorant of an instrument that's been around since approximately the year 800(C.E. or A.D. your choice).

In a burst of defiant "oh yeah, you THINK I can't play an instrument" ... (and by 'you' I mean me) I bought a seriously inexpensive Hohner Recorder. Practiced for about 17 minutes and promptly forgot about it. Probably due to the fact that I was too busy doing god only knows what.

The past few weeks (or more, I have no sense of time lately) have been stressful far in excess of what they ought to have been. I had a little 'girl' issue and while I'm normally pretty cool about going to doctors and having tests for some reason this one really took hold to the point that I was literally shaking last Friday when I went to have a consultation with the Oncologist. Ovarian cancer is no joke, and the fact that it is so difficult to diagnose makes it very tough to find early. Thanks medical researchers for working so hard on that one. Yeah. So I was pretty much a basket case. And I have not been myself even a wee little bit. Readjusting to going back on Zoloft wasn't even a part of this one. I was just freaking out.

I was also absurdly unproductive. I'd get up in the morning, spend the day doing pretty much nothing and oh lookie, it's time to go back to bed. And I wouldn't even notice how much time had gone by because I was so preoccupied with 'keeping my mind off it'. Because that worked really well. Uh-huh.

After weeks of this sort of nonsense I decided it was time to DO something. So I decided to paint my hall closet. I have left-over paint from the great apartment redo so I went to work on the inside of the closet which was one of the few spots in the apartment that was still white. While dumping out the closet I found the recorder.

That afternoon waiting for the paint to dry so I could put back the things that weren't getting donated or thrown out I heard what sounded like a kid practicing, of all things, a recorder. It went on for about 10 minutes and it was clearly early on in the learning process and very clearly a recorder. So I dusted the poor little guy off and hit the internet for 'how to play a recorder'. I thought 10 minutes a day was something even I could do; something I could commit to and not feel overburdened with guilt if I missed a day. It's September, back to school time, why not try to relearn how to read music, and actually learn to play an instrument that you could play a melody on? Why the hell not?

So I've been practicing for a minimum of 10 minutes and a maximum of an hour every day. I have not heard that kid practice again since that initial 10 minutes and now I wonder if I really heard it at all (cue the Twilight Zone music). But I've learned the fingering for 5 notes - whoa... sloooow down! And while I'm still clumsy with it, and given the way my hands cramp up I'd be surprised if I ever get really proficient, but I'm getting better. Maybe in a few months I'll even be able to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, or something equally compelling, without squeaking. I'm thrilled that it doesn't bother the dog or the cat. I figure if the notes were really bad Basil would absolutely be making a fuss. So maybe I'm on the right track.

In the meantime the Oncologist set my mind at ease in that he saw no reason to believe that I have anything other than a simple cyst - and even better - one that doesn't require surgery. (Which is really great since I no longer have health insurance and I live in the United States of America where it's okay to have a socialized school system, police force, fire departments, etc. but not socialized medicine. HELLO? And thank you Mr. Nixon you sonofawhore. Sorry, no, I'm not going there right now because I don't want to get myself riled.)

Any way. I'm pretty damned delighted and I'm going back to practice my 5 notes for another 10 minutes. Look out Twinkle Twinkle, IT'S ON!

Ahhh-OOOO-Gaaaaa... boing

2008-09-04T19:26:00.003-04:00

I have not been in the cheeriest lately. Preoccupied. Blah-blah. But this segment (actually all the coverage of the Republican Convention) is so hilarious I actually laughed so hard I cried.

So the RNC is good for a laugh. Not much else, but a laugh.

The sad, sad truth presents itself once more...

2008-08-20T13:55:00.003-04:00

After 3 weeks of being Zoloft-free I think it's time to face the cold hard reality that my poor little brain just has not learned how to deal with serotonin on its own. I was so hoping it had. Dammit. I wanted to just ease off it, avoid the nasties that come with going off, (which I did btw) but it turns out that now that it's all out of my system I'm, well, let's be clear: I'm fucked.

I am Sooooooo disappointed. No, seriously. I was absolutely certain that this was something that I could do. That I really didn't need to be on anti-depressants any more. Hahhahahahahaha on me. Too many bad thoughts, too many weepy days and with my current health situation being what it might be, I am in no position to attempt to brave it through. My brain simply can't seem to have a 'bad day' like normal people do. My brain - all about the drama - decides to go to the deepest darkest, murkiest well of despair it can find in which to wallow, design horrible scenarios of my desolute future and sip a frosty margarita. This is not cool brain. Reallly not cool. Okay the margarita is kinda delicious, but.. NO, stop it with your seductively dark thoughts! bad brain, bad, bad brain. tsk.

So much for my experimentation with living drug-free. Guess I'm the "just say YES!" poster child.

Of course I'm devastated. Um... that might be because I'm NOT taking my meds. Helllllooooo. But while I have my pride, such as it is, I have decided that being on meds for the rest of my life and maybe not quite 'feeling' everything to the nth degree ain't the worst that could happen. So this morning out came the remaining 'happy pills' (which is such a cavalier euphemism, but hey gotta laugh to keep from crying, right?) and now I'm reversing the process I've spent the past few months doing. Now I'm building up the amount of those kooky blue pills that I take every day until I get back to my old dosage and feel more often happy than despairing. Luckily that process goes much faster than the weaning off process and I should be back to my regular dose in 2 weeks.

It's a sucky lesson to have to learn. For me, these pills are the thing that keep me from going down dark roads that lead to thoughts of sharp implements, lots of alcohol, and a warm tub of water. Given the fact that I have an appointment with a Gynecological Oncologist in a couple of weeks, it might save the hassle to just stay off the pills. Gotta go one way or t'other, right? But despite feeling really, REALLY low at the moment, I'm not quite low enough to want to give up.

I know what the worst feels like: I'm not there, but I could get there mighty damned fast. I'm like one piece of bad news and a mean look away from getting there. I also know what the best is, and that's what I want back. So until these pills start kicking in again, I'm trying (none too successfully) to keep the good thoughts on my own. But it'll be okay. Lesson learned. Take your pills. And remember:

Actual health-care reform — wow!

2008-08-20T11:59:00.001-04:00

HR 676 is sponsored by Congressman John Conyers, Dennis Kucinich and several others. The bill would provide for a single payer medical system. Introduced in 2003, the bill now has 91 cosponsors. It is currently in the House Energy and Commerce's Subcommittee on Health.

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You Get Me!

2008-08-15T10:48:00.002-04:00

I can count on more fingers than I have on both hands (and maybe a few extra) how many times I have heard this phrase from men. Always stated with a level of excitement normally reserved for the discovery of a new country. "Holy mackeral, a woman who understands me!" When I was young and foolish (as opposed to now where I'm just plain foolish) I took it as a great compliment. More than a compliment it was a sign from the heavens that we were a match made in . . . something less than hell. OF COURSE no one else 'got' them. They were sooooo complex and mere mortal women were far too mundane to understand their varied hues. Their incredible depth. Except guess what? Not so much.

Frankly, I didn't 'get' them. Not in the end. Because they were always off to women who didn't understand them at all. (and they made this quite clear! "she doesn't get me" so... wha... Huh????) SO much for that 'getting'. It pissed me off. But not nearly so much as the fact that of all these charmers that I was so "undertanding" of not a single one of them ever 'got' ME.

Now I'm sure they thought they did because let's face it, I had a habit of getting involved with complete losers who thought they were geniuses. They weren't, well okay one was but we were kids so that probably doesn't count. What they were was selfish immature guys with limited scope who saw only their tiny version of the world and they belonged with women who were truly like them. Despite the fact that they 'didn't get them'. Their ambitions were small. Their minds were smaller. We will not discuss anatomy.

All these guys that I 'understood' and really 'got' would think they 'got' me because they saw what they wanted, heard what they wanted and believed what they wanted to about me. All evidence to the contrary. What I really am was never something they 'got'. Like the ones who knew I wanted to get married and bless the world with the fruit of their loins. Yeah. Uh... Right. Cause that's me: mommy material. Yeah. IN HELL I'm mommy material! Move over Satan, Big Mama's in town. Oy vey. Or (one of my all time favorites) "Joy's not the kind of girl you just fuck, you'd want to marry her." WHAT?????????? Are ya kidding me? Talk about projecting, pal.

The truth is I'm pretty good at picking up on things about people. Early training in a violently dysfunctional household will teach you lots of things, among them: low self-esteem, anxiety and an uncanny talent for noticing things that not everyone notices. The twitch of an eye, the tensing of a breath that mean more than what the other person wants you to know. Possibly more than they are aware of themselves. I used to think everyone did this sort of reconnaissance, the careful watching of people and what they say and do to determine their next move (and if you needed to duck) but I found that is not the case. Truth is most people never see the subliminal cues other people give off. Dogs do, but people? Not so much. So I guess I've got a minor talent. Is it a money maker? Yeah, again: not so much.

I bitch and moan on this blog quite a bit but the truth is I'm pretty damned tolerant. At least I used to be. I used to put up with the crappiest behavior - or just the most incompatible behavior - for far longer than any less tolerant (read stupid) person might have because of that easy-going nature and because of my early training which taught me that I deserved the most abundant crappy treatment I could find. Of course I told myself that I had broken that cycle because I would never EVER tolerate someone hitting me the way my mother had. And they never have. But I let them 'hit' me in other ways... I was too 'tolerant' to see it for what it was.

Happily I've learned not to tolerate quite so much any more and have learned that people do in fact show you their real selves very quickly, very early. Which can cut down on the amount of toleratin' you might need to do and if you're not inclined for putting up with bullshit in your life any more; you can nip that nonsense in the bud and move on! Because, amusingly enough, people will often show you exactly who they are right away. They say it outright "I'm lazy" (followed by a cover-up laugh) or slightly more subtle, they actually show you (if you're watching closely). Of course the beauty of the reveal is that we almost NEVER BELIEVE it when it first comes up! Nahhhh, couldn't be. That's just a self-deprecating joke, etc. After some time we see it, but not at first. "Oh yeah, wait a minute.... he did say 'sex isn't the most important thing'" (FYI: that phrase coming from a guy is an impotence/sexual dysfunction tip-off. Remember it ladies and run for the hills. Unless that's the type of thing you're looking for, in which case mazel tov!)

I'm teaching myself not to be quite so tolerant any more. It goes against my grain, because being 'nice' is a big part of who I am (or who I'd like to think I am. . . maybe I'm not really so nice. THAT is entirely possible.) But right now? I just don't care any more.

Get me?

A Farewell, A New Start

2008-08-13T09:00:00.012-04:00

Friday, August 15 marks a bittersweet occasion for me. For others as well I'm sure but I feel a particular pang about this and so naturally I'm going to whine about it. My blog: my whining.

Oh hush, you love when I whine. Don't you? No really, don't you? Hmmm. Any way. . .

There are two things I have been seriously consistent about in the time since I decided not to kill myself in October of 2004. Everything else has been variable, sometimes stickin' - sometimes passing. But two things that I have been consistent with as I have been consistent with few other things in my life are: 1) my daily dose of Zoloft and 2) my attendance at every Niagaras show I could physically make it to.

Both of those things are ending this month.

August is going to be tough on Miss Joy lemme tell ya.

As I've mentioned, I decided to wean off the Zoloft and while I did have a couple of days in July where I thought maybe it wasn't the wisest decision, overall I think I'm actually fine. I'm just adjusting to life without the support system of a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. It's cool: I'm relearning what it feels like to FEEL big time. Not saying it's a breeze, but it's going to be fine. Feeling is good. Sometimes hard, but still good. I'm much stronger now. I can handle it now. I couldn't before, but now I can. I think it has a lot to do with finally learning what 'happy' actually feels like and hanging onto it. And hey, if I find I can't deal and sharp objects start looking pretty again, I have my reminder tattoo and I can run to the doctor begging for scripts. I'm REALLY hyper-vigilant about suicidal idealizations, don't worry.

The second one is . . . tougher. That one I have no control over - WHAT?! Don't I control EVERYTHING? Guess not.

On August 15, 2008 The Niagaras are ending a run of many, many years which I was fortunate - in the extreme - to have fallen into at exactly the right time for me. My regret is not having known of them longer so that I could have seen them play more, but things happen when they will. Such is life. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to see and hear such an amazingly talented group perform as often as I did. Possibly more often than is strictly on the sane side, but still.... just under three years of seeing them play an average of twice a month (sometimes more! yay! ... sometimes less. boo!) seems like not nearly enough. But when it's time to make a change in life it's time and no amount of whining from outside, or inside, sources can keep it from happening.

Some people tell me I should stay on the Zoloft, but I know it's time to come off it. I'm sure some people tell the Niagaras not to stop performing together, but they know it's time.

I've become very attached to Niagaras songs - there are always a minimum of 3 on my iPod at any given time. They come running with me because an awful lot of Niagaras' songs have just the right beats per minute for running. (Yeah. That's why. Sure.) There are songs I've never heard live because they just don't play 'em any more. So now I guess I never will hear them live - Charitable, For Some Reason Leah or Train of Thought anyone? No? FINE. Be that way.

There are Niagaras' songs that piss me off, simply because they contain lines that I find heart-clutchingly perfect not only in terms of capturing themes of the human condition but also in terms of clever and evocative poetry and I'm envious, jealous, and a little angry at myself because I would never have thought to have written such things - and I wish like hell I could.

So I'm sad that there will be an end to this band which I have come to feel so proprietary about while at the same time magnanimous (and a little pushy) about sharing with everyone I know. I'm sure some of my friends will be happy not to have my 'come with me - c'mon, c'mon, c'mon The Niagaras 10pm (sharp)' emails because of my not so subtle and tenacious digs about the fact that they should be able to stay up past midnight on a FRIDAY night once in a while and come with me to see this band that makes me so happy. Of course, when they could or when they were in town they did come - but nothing's ever enough for me. I'm greedy and impatient like that.

You know that part in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy first begins her walk along the yellow brick road? You know that part in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy first begins her walk along the yellow brick road? It always irked me that she started from the absolute center of the spiral and followed that damned thing when she could have simply stepped off and gone directly to the part that went straight and just gotten on with it! It seemed so pointless and time consuming to walk that little spiral of yellow bricks, singing with the Munchkins and that kooky Glinda, and yet... the truth I've come to learn at this stage in my life is that you really can't skip over the spiral. You've got to start at the beginning and follow along, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road, as it were. There aren't short-cuts, everything is a process and sometimes you get to the Emerald City and things change. A lot. I have always maintained that change is good. To remain the same is to become stagnant. And so, though it makes me nervous (the Zoloft) and a bit sad (the Niagaras) I know in my heart that change is good - and only good will come of it. It's time.

I know I'm greedy in that I wish, WISH, WISH The Niagaras would always be. Would always be playing someplace I could get to within a reasonable amount of time so that I wouldn't have to wait and pine for too long for my 'happy' fix. Selfish, I know. And patience is NOT one of my many, many virtues. A-hem. But we all have to do the things we have to do, when we have to do them. These Niagaras boys are no different. It's a gut feeling. It's a knowing that this is the path. To fight against it is to fight the tides. You'll lose.

People leave, new people come, the world turns and we go on. If we are brave enough and wise enough to flow with that change, what wonders might we find?
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The Niagaras final show will be at The National Underground 158 East Houston, between Allan and Houston, NYC 10PM (sharp) More info here

After that the always wonderful Robert Whaley will be performing with his new band Comic Tales of Tragic Heartbreak. Of course I've seen them - what a silly question. Of course they're fabulous - don't be dense. It's a different sort of vibe, more soulful abd deeo but still warm and welcoming and yes, funny too. And yes, I'm still envious of the lyrics here too. I'm just green with it. Oh well. More info here

I QUIT

2008-08-11T18:22:00.001-04:00

Take a little look around this blog if you're a new-comer. You might notice I love the doggies. Dogs, dogs, dogs. Love me some doggies. Puppies, older dogs, dogs, dogs, dogs.

So it might not be terribly shocking that I decided to try a little stint of dog walking to pull in a little cash. Dog walking: cash, exercise, autonomy AND best of all: DOGS! Seems like an awfully good job for Miss Joy. Custom-made you might say.

So I went on craigslitst because I keep hearing about it. I mean people I know use it for all sorts of things. I have never used it, but I went browsing the other day and there were several dog walking agencies looking for people. Well.... it was sort of an impulse thing but I answered several. (I even answered a casting call... for the acting. Me? Act? Gosh... I could never... Yeah. Right. Somebody put me on a stage already.) There are two 'jobs' I'm good at: 1) acting, 2) um.... okay nevermind) But I figured dog walking? Hell, I'm golden. How could I not be great at that?

Welllllll. It seems that I AM great at it!

One of the craigslist ads I answered emailed me back and we set up an 'interview'. The interview was pretty much me tagging along for a couple of walks. Easy-peasy kids. Dogs love me. Men, I have some troubles, Dogs? DOGS love me. So the 'interview' went well. Although there were a couple of little tingles in my Spidey sense that were saying, Warning - Warning: this is NOT the job for you. Walk away now!" But when someone tells you 'you're hired' it's not a sucky feeling. So I thought I would take the job and write my misgivings and twitchy vibes off to the fact that I have been out of the job loop for a little over a year and a half and maybe I was just a little nervous about the whole 'commitment' thing.

So I said 'yes' and today was sent on a "training". Um, I don't know that I was actually 'trained' so much as shown where some dogs live. Which is cool, I can see it. Showing the newbie the ropes and all. That makes sense. What didn't make so much sense to me was how this operation was run.

Far as I can see walking dogs is pretty much a no-brainer. (Not that dog walkers are stupid, quite the contrary!) But I mean if you love dogs and have had a lifetime of experience with them, it's not brain surgery. If you haven't, then sure, you might need some basics. Such as: make sure they don't mess with aggressive dogs, don't let them eat stuff they find on the sidewalk, clean up after them when they poop, make sure they don't run into traffic (pretty easy to do that if you have them on a leash which, hello NYC your dogs should be on leashes!) So 'training' me did seem a little odd. But hey, again, I can see it - you know, an introduction.

The thing I was not too cool with was the rules. Because they didn't make an awful lot of sense to me and aside from the arbitrariness of them was the fact that they didn't seem to be adhered to all that much. And even more so, what bothered me was the non-walking of dogs you're being paid to WALK. The deal with this little company was to have several humans, each with one dog, bring the dogs to the park and then sit with them. Now this is not a gated dog run sort of park, just a 'sit on a bench sort of park'. SO the dogs are not actually getting much exercise - which helllllo that's what their owners are paying for - especially puppies who need to get that energy out so they don't eat your sofa! The woman who ran the thing kept harping on the fact that their clients like the fact that each dog gets personal attention, but I gotta say I didn't see that all so much. Maybe my idea of personal attention is not the same as the average persons? I dunno.... call me crazy but when there are several people, each with a dog and yet talking to each other and not much interacting with the dogs I don't see how that's actually 'personal attention'.

When we went to the park for the great doggie sit-in, I took the dog I was attached to (and yes, attached to by a leash tied to a fanny pack around my waist.) Let me stop here momentarily to state for the record that I have never once in my life before today worn a fanny pack. I do not EVER intend to wear one again. I was also advised to bring a backpack. Again, I do NOT wear backpacks. I spent 3 weeks traveling Europe after college with a huge, heavy backpack and swore at the end of that trip - over 20 years ago - that I would never wear a backpack again. Much as Robert Shaw's character in Jaws swears he will never don a lifejacket again. Because yes, it was THAT awful. Fanny backs do not have the same memories of pain and aches as backpacks, but those suckers are butt-ugly! And it goes against my sense of good taste to wear one. I did so today because of the 'rules' and because they handed it to me. So okay, I'm a good sport. Honestly, I'm terrifically easy going and more than willing to give people the benefit of the doubt so I put on the fugly pack and hooked the dog's leash to it.

But because I could not in good conscience just sit down with the dog I was being paid to WALK I ran the little guy up and down the length of the park a few times so he could get some cardio going. And not for nothing, but may I note that I also had done a 5K run earlier in the morning. So there.

Getting the dogs out of their apartments and bringing them home I would imagine that one of the more important aspects of the drop off and pick up would be to make sure that the apartment door is locked after leaving. There were a couple of times that the newbie (granted I'm a little OCD but still), the one without the keys, was the one to ask "did we want to lock this?" And yes that's just how I asked so as not to be obnoxious and say "YOU FORGOT TO LOCK THE DOOR". Because a little politeness never killed anyone.

Well.. okay long story short(er) at the end of my training stint I discovered that the walking schedules were given out on a daily basis - but not until quite late in the evening (11pm) for the next day. I dunno... the whole idea of a part-time gig was to continue to have a LIFE. Hard to do that when you don't know what your tomorrow will look like until 11pm. That was one thing BUT I was willing to give it a shot any way. Because I really wanted to be with the doggies! The other thing that appealed to me about dog walking was being with DOGS not with people. Look I'm not entirely antisocial, but there are almost always issues when you deal with people. Dogs, not so much. So I really just wanted to be given a schedule, go walk the doggies every day and be done with it. Yeah. Dream on. Dream on.

I was told to call the owner of the company (who had interviewed me yesterday) when my 'shift' was over. (There was an awful lot of checking in during and before and after walks... a little too much checking in for my tastes actually). But after the shift was done and I got home I did call. As we were discussing how many hours I wanted to do a week (20) because I wanted part time, she told me that anything less than 9-6 was part time (yeah, not so much), that everyone else wanted LOTs of work (I'm not everyone else). But okay, we're dealing with that - you want me, you'll take me for 4 hours a day and you'll LIKE it. But then... then the real deal showed itself.

Welcome to passive aggressive control-freak 101.

After praising me like I was the female Cesar Milan - everyone loved you, the dogs loved you, you're a natural, etc., etc. ad nauseam - This is what she said to me. "I don't think I can legally say this to you, but I'm going to any way. You would have to dress more appropriately. The top you had on today was far too revealing. It's really not appropriate to dress like that."

I would like you now to take a look at what I was wearing. I took this as soon as I got off the phone - right after I quit.

Yes, this is Joy wearing her Sluts Walk Puppies shirt - or as my friend Josh suggested "I'll walk your dogs AND you'll get an eyefull!" Or maybe a good slogan would be: "Let MY puppies walk YOUR puppies!"

Yeah. That's me as the slutty dog walker. Jeans, sneakers (easy spirit old lady sneakers no less), a windbreaker/raincoat and that hold back your menfolk I'm so hot v-neck tee shirt.

I know. Why would I think such ho-wear would be appropriate for walking dogs. I am such a dimwit.

Seriously, if this is inappropriate and THAT is the one complaint about this otherwise godsend to the dog-walking field, imagine what would be next. Wrong hair color? Didn't smile enough?

See I've worked in a LOT of offices and one thing about office work is that there is always ONE person with huge control issues. Always. It's like a law. These people more often than not end up in office manager positions. They love, love, love to bully people. They love people to kiss their asses and they hate anyone who is not afraid of them. Usually, as with most bullies, they are actually the most inept and insecure people you can find. But they always seem to rise to positions of 'power'. The Peter Principle in all its glory. So this personality type is one that I know well, and one that I avoid like the plague because I am the type of person they just despise - often for the most wacked-out reasons you can imagine. And I despise them: because they are bullies who pick on the people who can least defend themselves. People who NEED to keep their jobs because they are single mothers with children, or they just got a mortgage, or any number of reasons. People who the bully cannot threaten are the people the bullies hate. I guess that's why I've been hated by them. Tee-Hee! I could tell you stories about the last one. Oy. If you know me in real life, then you have heard those stories already. For the rest of you, let's wait until another time.

For now I'm going head over to the library (wheee!) and yes, I am going to wear my slut-tastic fashions. Gonna give that librarian an eyeful. maybe he has a dog I can walk? Hmmmm.

Woof!!!!

(p.s. I wore the exact same t-shirt in brown to my interview yesterday. Hmmm. Maybe blue is more slutilicious than brown?)