i am happy because...

There are a bunch of surveys out there about 2007 -- favorite movie, favorite day, etc. -- but I don't think my 2007 can be encapsulated in bullet points or answers to Wh questions. On the way home from my quite indulgent shopping spree this afternoon, I was doing some mental sentence completion exercises to the statement I am happy because... and in the middle of it what came to me was, I am happy because I have begun a spiritual transformation. And that's really the best way I can describe it.

I began this year -- literally -- getting involved with a 20-year-old alcoholic pothead unmedicated bipolar cutter. This is appropriate to remember. More than any other year, 2007 has been defined by my relationships. I feel good about how much I've grown. As the year ends, I know I am better able to set boundaries, follow my instincts, demand respect, seek out people with shared interests, and value myself. Had I started 2007 able to do even ONE of those things, about 98% of the year's relationship heartache would have been averted. It wasn't, but I'm a different person now than I was 365 days ago, and for that I am grateful.

On a related note, I've learned this year about the true meaning of friendship. It doesn't entail being a drinking buddy or a partner for other shenanigans or serving as a rationalization tool for each other's bad choices. This first came to me when M. took the day off of work on June 5th to drive me to the doctor and held my hand through one of the most difficult moments of my entire life. It's because of moments like that -- and other ones, in which people like Anima Sola listened to me sobbing on the phone -- that made me realize that even though I still don't believe in God (per se), I do need to place my faith in the people around me... that there are friends and other loved ones who can and will keep me safe and hold me up when all I feel like doing is drowning myself in the bathtub.

That brings me to the program, which is kind of like coming full circle here, since the process of coming into the program and breaking up with D. (possibly the first healthy relationship choice I'd made all year) will always be inextricably entwined for me. And if M. and Anima Sola paved the way for me to start trusting the universe, it is in the rooms of the program that I've realized that the only other choice besides having faith is spiritual despair and, ultimately, death. There are definitely still days in which I don't know how I'll spend another minute sober, much less an hour or a day or a week... but what I have now is the knowledge that pain doesn't last forever, that I can reach out for others to help me start thinking straight again, that it's all a matter of me choosing to do the right thing (and feeling better) or not (and feeling crazy).

And so here's what I have on December 31 that I didn't have (or didn't realize I had) on January 1: caring friends and faith in their love for me; the program and a willingness to work it; a developing sense of intuition and the desire to follow it; knowledge of my bottom lines and an ability to set boundaries; and a healthy love of myself coupled with the belief that I deserve all of the good things that come my way. And so, yes, I AM happy that I have begun a spiritual transformation. Namaste.

the saga of the dye job

I think probably the worst thing in the world -- besides the obvious, such as losing my children to a lengthy and painful illness, being murdered by a serial killer, or freezing to death -- would be if there were a fire in my apartment building on one of the nights during which I were dyeing my hair. You see, it's not exactly a simple process. It involves at least three pairs of disposable gloves, a healthy amount of petroleum jelly (to rub along my hairline, to prevent staining), lots of newspaper (I put it down so the dye doesn't permanently stain the floors or sink), and several plastic Target bags, one of which ends up on my head as a makeshift dyeing cap (since it's only about 14.2% of the time I actually remember to buy one when I'm at Sally Beauty Supply). And said bag remains on my head for, oh, twelve or fourteen hours, since I figured out a long time ago that the longevity of my Manic Panic dye job is directly proportional to the amount of time the dye stays on my head before being rinsed out. I sleep with the bag on my head (with an old towel on top of my pillow, to eliminate all risk of staining) and postpone showering until the very last minute the next day (in this case, until about noon tomorrow, since I'm hoping to go thrifting with M. to find The Perfect Mini Skirt), at which point I wear a pair of those long yellow cleaning gloves to rinse my hair in my kitchen sink, keeping my fingers crossed (figuratively speaking) throughout the entire process that the whole thing has turned out looking more funky and less, uh, FUNKY than desired. But it's still not over at that point -- then I whip out my bottle of rubbing alcohol and find all the places where the insidious Manic Panic infiltrated the petroleum jelly and I rub and rub and rub and rub until I feel as though my skin is going to be rubbed out altogether to get out the hair dye on my skin. Sometimes this takes a small amount of time, but usually it's 15 or 20 minutes of scrubbing, which can be (and often is) painful. But... throughout it all... the biggest fear I have is that my apartment building will catch on fire before I've finished it all and then I'll be stuck outside in the snow with a Target bag on my head.

counting down...

When things get intolerable and you realize it's probably PMS and not necessarily rampant insanity that left you curled in a ball on the floor sobbing for two hours on Christmas night, what better thing to do than get your first haircut since August 24? Because, you know, it's probably some sort of travesty that your last drunk happened a month after your last hair appointment, especially since you've got a couple 90-day coins jingling in the pocket of your winter coat.

This is the reasoning that had me waiting at Big Hair for an hour before calling Twisted Scissors only to learn they had no appointments until Wednesday. And because I want what I want, like, NOW, and don't want to have to wait until Wednesday (and also because I'm re-dyeing my hair tomorrow and wanted it cut BEFORE I colored), I called Milio's and made an appointment and went in and got my head massaged and my hair cut, and I only winced a little bit when I paid almost $50 for a cut that would have cost $20 at Big Hair or $25 at Twisted Scissors. After all, if I can "afford" (meaning I can't, but I pretend I can because I'm in the eternal grip of the Eyebrow Nazi) $47-plus-tip to get my freakin' eyebrows done once a month, this shouldn't bother me. And I admit my hair looks much better and will look completely and utterly awesome when I finish my rather experimental (pink, red + blue) dye job tomorrow. Speaking of which, I'm starting yet another blog (yep, No. 3) to participate in this thing where you take a photo of yourself every day for a year, so pictures of My New Hair will be taken for the first day of that... more to come on New Year's Day.

Next on my agenda: finding the perfect black miniskirt to wear on New Year's Eve. Since I've lost 23 pounds since September, I of course want to look 100% hot (for, sadly, no one in particular, just the Metro crowd at large, I suppose) while ringing in 2008, especially since there's a ghost of a chance I'll be backstage after the Spoon concert... not that I'd break my vow of celibacy for a rock star or anything. After all, I need to start this year on a positive note, which -- I don't know for certain, but I'm just guessing here -- means not flinging myself at complete strangers...

friends with money

I saw it when it first came out, but Friends with Money has been on cable incessantly over the past few weeks and so I've seen it, oh, at least four times in the past month. (Late at night, I "work" while "watching" television.) It probably comes as no surprise that I completely identify with the (poor) Jennifer Aniston character in the film, though lately I've been taking a rather Frances McDormand-y perspective on hair washing. Egads. But anyhow. It occurs to me there are tons of other movies I adore because I can identify with the dysfunction of the main female characters, including:

• Shopgirl, which still makes me cry almost every time I see it... and I actually have this reaction to 97% of the things I've seen Claire Danes in;
• All the Real Girls, which accurately captures the angst unique to growing up in a small town where relatively no one can see beyond the city limits;
• Proof... ah, a movie set in Chicago... but beyond that, oh, Gwyneth Paltrow does a bang-up job channeling the genius child of dysfunction;
• Garden State, because even though I don't like how the Zach Braff character doesn't get on the plane (I think he'll always be sorry for not going back to California for at least a little bit!), wow!, would it be yummy to be the girl he doesn't go back to California for;
• Year of the Dog, which should be mandated viewing for anyone new to the animal rights movement;

and I am sure there are tons others, but my brain is fried just a bit tonight, so I am going back to "working" while "watching" (yet again) Friends With Money.

just a few things

I should've bought a BlackBerry ages ago. It's been six hours since I've activated my new phone and I'm already as much in love as I could possibly be with an electronic device. Google Maps automatically detects my location with my phone's built-in GPS. I can use a Bluetooth headset. The phone's Gmail interface is heavenly compared to that on my Treo. The data plan for the phone is about 2/3 the cost of the previous plan -- AND it includes unlimited texting, video, and TV (for which I previously had to pay extra). And the available ring tones include -- I kid you not -- the theme song to Sex and the City. Could things get any better?

***

Today was the day I stopped being the Invincible Mother Who Can Do No Wrong (if she ever existed). Yes, today was B.'s five-year-old checkup, and he received three immunizations. When I picked him up and on the way there, we talked at length about how the shots would hurt "only a little" in return for "lots of protection against viruses" (reminding him how sick he was when he got the mumps last year helped). And even though I held his hands and let him squeeze my fingers throughout the ordeal, he screamed louder than I've ever heard him scream. And even though I scooped him up right after and held him so tightly I thought I'd break my own ribs, he cried so hard he almost hyperventilated. And even though I bought him a Jamba Juice and crackers and cookies after we left, he still sniffled, and at the corner of Halsted and Maxwell, he looked up at me with his red tear-rimmed eyes and said, I'm not going to trust you anymore. You said it would only hurt a little, and it hurt more than I've ever hurt in my short little life. That sound you heard from the South Loop around 4:27pm today was my heart breaking. Based on my experiences with W., the cracks just get bigger as time goes on. But I suppose love fills in the gaps.

***

There seem to be good days and bad ones, and sometimes a day can be a little of each. I can't even tell anymore, even in the moment, which one it is. Things can be fine for a while and then out of the blue take a turn for the intolerable, or vice versa. I've stopped depending on anything to stay the same long enough to make a difference. I wake up, I work, I go to meetings, I spend time with my children, I connect (or pretend to) with other people, and I keep plodding along, one foot in front of the other, because the only other options involve death, either slowly or instantaneously. I realize this sounds more depressing than it actually is. I am making progress, and I am fundamentally happy with the way things are going. The problem is that I feel like a boulder that's been smashed into a thousand pieces and I need to put myself back together, a pebble at a time. And it would be helpful if there were a map or a guide or a set of directions on how to do that, but I might as well just be blind and missing my hands, that's how well equipped I feel to begin reconstruction. I should be content knowing that I'm not missing any pieces, that it's just not my time yet to put them back together... but it's mighty difficult living inside of a fractured existence.

wednesday's child is full of woe

OK, so I was born on a Sunday, which means I'm supposed to be "bonny and blithe and good and gay" but I'm just not feelin' it today. Some random thoughts:

1. I woke up at 7:30am to what smelled like rancid tuna. At first, I thought maybe W. hid a sandwich behind the radiator (he has a tendency of doing this when he doesn't like what food's been served to him, though we obviously don't do tuna...) but after a thorough examination of all hiding spots in my apartment, I think the neighbors are just cooking up some nasty food. I lit some incense and now it smells like vanilla tuna fish. I think it was better before.

2. Even though my cat and I have a love-hate relationship during the waking hours, when I'm in bed, I love her. She either sleeps on a pillow right next to mine or goes to lie down on or against my legs. There's just something about a warm fluffy creature so close at such a cozy time that is comforting.

3. Today is my 90 days. The last 36 minutes of Day 89 and first 34 minutes of Day 90 were spent on the phone with W., who cut short his Scene It game in Denver to talk me off my proverbial ledge. It was a nasty night yesterday. I know I shouldn't be upset, but someone with 13 years of sobriety said he'd see a movie with me and then decided not to go at the last minute... and he did chat with me a bit on Google chat, but I was in a really, really bad place (I was sobbing and in a fetal position on my floor for the better part of an hour) and if it were me I totally would have put aside my own feelings and just gone to see the damn movie to help a newcomer make it through the night. [And I probably would have recommended that the newcomer NOT go see a movie that would trigger lots of pregnancy-related issues...] But anyhow. The 13-year-sober guy didn't go and I went alone (which ended up being preferable, actually), but I texted W. and M. before and during the movie, and when I got back I called W. and he recited "How it Works" to me (pretty much from memory, with a bit of prompting on my end, since I had the Big Book with me and he didn't) and by the end of the phone call I no longer felt as though throwing myself off of the State Street bridge would be an excellent solution to all of my problems. Thanks, W.

4. After the meeting tonight, I'll have gone to 67 meetings in 90 days. Progress, not perfection, right?

5. I'm grateful to A. for letting me stop by her house last night. She didn't have to, and it was helpful.

6. Prayer is an interesting thing. As is meditation. And speaking of which, I'll be joining my brother in March for his now-annual week-long soul-searching trek through the mountains. I'm an anxious hiker and a nervous camper, but I trust that he'll teach me what I need to know. [He was an Eagle Scout, so that has to count for something, no?] And who wouldn't pass up the chance to find some spiritual healing? Not me, that's who.

i don't know what they have

Things were both better and worse today than I'd hoped. I held myself together throughout the time with my "family" and then stopped by A.'s house (she lives around the corner from my aunt and uncle), where I managed to chat with her just a little and felt a bit better. But then I called my brother while driving back into the city and pretty much lost it. There is only one other person in the world who knows the enormity of what I lived through as a child, and it's him -- the only one who can understand why I've fucked up so many things and why it's so difficult to have relationships and why I seek out people who hurt me and why it took me thirteen years to get my bachelor's degree and why I don't talk to my parents and why it's so painful sometimes to just stay alive.

It's weird, this opportunity to spend time with my relatives -- people who, my brother tells me, enjoy getting to know me because my life is so different from theirs and because I (as a person) am so unlike any of them that they are excited at the prospect of seeing the world from a different point of view. That was a revelation -- the idea that being unique is something to my benefit. But it also hurts, more than I can even bear sometimes. They don't quite understand that the reason I am "this way" (if I could be said to be any particular "way") is a result of so much dysfunction and disease. They seem to think that I never spent a year abroad or live in a funky vintage apartment or have a non-traditional job or have bounced around so much or, well, whatever because I'm a singularly interesting person. What they don't seem to comprehend is that there have been plenty of days when I would trade my Manic Panic-filled bathroom cabinet and stilettos and combat boots for just an inkling of what they have. And what is it, exactly, that they have? I don't even know, other than it's something I was never, ever given.

The main thing that's kept me sober today is that conversation with my brother, the knowledge that there is one other person in the world who knows what I'm talking about when I say all of these things. He's just under a thousand miles away from me tonight, but a piece of him is always with me. It just has to be. It's the only way either one of us has ever survived anything.

uh, yeah, "merry" christmas

If there weren't a meeting to go to this morning, I do believe I'd go crazy. It was a bad night, filled with uncomfortable dreams and self-deprecating thoughts, including Who the hell am I kidding? If I hadn't made so many damn commitments -- to J. (show up at the meeting ), to B. (go see our "family" for Christmas dinner), to myself (continue my 16-year-long Christmas movie tradition) -- here's what I'd be doing: sitting in front of the television in my bathrobe watching movies and eating cookies and drinking Pellegrino. I don't want to go outside, I don't want to interact with people, I don't want to pretend to be happy and put together and normal, and I don't want to connect with anyone. And, of course, being me, I also sit here thinking that if I didn't show up for any of those things, no one would even notice (or at least wouldn't be surprised) or -- worse -- that they'd be relieved. And I don't know what's more difficult: not wanting to go or feeling as though showing up is a meaningless act.

random roundup

My fridge before the party... Yes, I really do drink that much S. Pellegrino...

1. No Country for Old Men is the best film I've seen all year. Considering that I see, on average, a dozen movies every month, that's a significant statement. It makes me want to re-watch every single Coen brothers movie I've ever seen, and then some.

2. I always forget how much I love parties until I throw one and it ends too soon. I do believe I'll host a dinner party within the next few weeks... those are easy. And I never was able to have them when A. and I were together -- he hated having people over for any reason. When I threw my head-shaving party before brain surgery, he made sure he had other plans that night.

3. The past couple of days, I've come closer to relapsing than at any other time since I got sober. I'll have 90 days on Wednesday. Maybe. I was always so certain, before, that relapsing was something other people did but not really an issue for me. I don't have any plans to drink today, but I don't really know. I've been thrown off track pretty far the past few days, and I'm realizing just how easy it would be to make one wrong turn and wake up a few hours or days or weeks later wondering what the heck had happened. I need to get back to daily meetings, at least until school starts up again in mid-January, and back to putting my sobriety in the No. 1 position in my life.

4. I'm going to see The Golden Compass with W. today, and V. is joining us. It will be the last full day I'm with him until after the new year, since his dad is coming to get him in the morning and keeping him through January 1st. But it will be a good break for us both... with me working from home and him going to school from home, we see each other way more than either one of us really would prefer.

5. Sometimes I don't really know what to do with B. I bought him this game for ages eight and up for Winter Solstice and it was too easy for him. But games that are for ages ten or twelve and up require a much greater attention span than he possesses. It's frustrating. Maybe he'll outgrow this with age. But I don't know. Maybe he'll just learn to find things easy enough to demonstrate his brilliance and avoid complications. Sounds familiar.

6. I know things are off-kilter when I start dreaming again. My dreams have always been huge freakin' neon signs that I need to make immediate changes in my life. Last night, I had a few, and three were notable: one about being stuck in either San Antonio or Austin (it kept changing) with the boys and (sometimes) my mother and A. was supposed to join us on the bus ride so we could "talk" about custody issues but then he kept forgetting how to get on the bus and it would leave without him; one in which random unknown-to-me men were calling me asking me out on dates and I kept having to say I am not ready, please leave me alone; and one in which I drank a glass of wine with dinner and it was only afterwards when I was walking back to the "L" that I realized I'd had a drink and, therefore, wouldn't be able to get my 90-day coin. I think that pretty much sums up the state of my life right now.

7. Saving Silverman is a pretty dumb movie, but it passes the time when you're procrastinating about answering e-mail, taking a shower, eating breakfast, getting dressed, and, uh, working.

meme-ing

Taking a break from preparing for my Winter Solstice Cookie & Gift Exchange (aka a dozen women crowding into my apartment for fun and food...) for some silly memes:

• My Blogger Code is B7 D- T- K+ S+ F+ I O++ X E+ L++ C+ Y4 R- W++ P++ M5 N- H-
• My Ecological Footprint is 9 acres, which is far below the American average of 24 acres per person, but we would still need 2.1 planets if everyone lived like I do. Sigh.
• There are 96 people with my exact name in the U.S., according to How Many of Me? If I changed my name to what I want to change it to, there would be only 11 of me.
• The Life Expectancy Calculator claims I will live to be 103 years old. I can live even longer by reducing stress (+2 years), taking aspirin daily (+2 years), flossing daily (+1 year), taking daily calcium and iron supplements (+1.5 years), and getting my blood sugar checked regularly (+.5 years), which means if I do all the things they "say" I could live to be 110 years old. But do I really want to?
• I am 20.9073% geek, or so says the Geek Test.

OK... back to assembling party favors, baking cupcakes, and trying to figure out how to carry a case of Pellegrino from my car to my apartment when it is snowing outside and the wind chill is 11 degrees below zero. I am seriously considering placing an ad on Craigslist and paying someone $10 to do it for me. That's how little I want to do it myself.

end of year survey no. 1

What is the date?
December 22, 2007. Ah, the Winter Solstice!

What is your name?
Vegan.mama or A.

How old will you be at the end of 2007?
A whopping thirty-four.

Do/Did you have New Year's Eve plans?
Last year, I decided at the last minute to go to Lincoln Square Lanes. This year, I've won tickets to see Spoon at the Metro.

What was the biggest change in 2007 for you?
Getting sober and entering the program.

Who were you closest to in 2007?
I'd have to say M.

What was the most shocking thing you saw in 2007?
Explaining it isn't (a) blog fodder or (b) exactly PG-rated. But those in the know know what it was.

What was the biggest lie you heard in 2007?
This is like asking "Which destructive hurricane was the worst?" There were a lot of lies, some of which I'm sure I'll never even know fully. Some hurt more than others, but few were small.

What is the most shocking thing you did in 2007?
I stayed in a relationship after it took a turn for the abusive.

What is the biggest lie you told in 2007?
Telling my friends everything was okay when it wasn't.

How many sexual partners did you have in 2007?
Uh, here's a comparison... fewer than 2006 but more than 2005. That's all I'm saying.

What is your saddest memory for 2007?
As with the biggest lie thing... there were so many, it's hard to say. I think the days leading up to and after June 5th were the absolute worst, though. If not for M. and V., I think I probably would have killed myself... and for that I will be eternally grateful to those two wonderful women.

What is your happiest memory of 2007?
Cookie Jams on B.'s fifth birthday with M. and D. I was so grateful to be sober and alive and able to spend the day with them. It was the best present I ever could have given my son.

How many traffic tickets did you get in 2007?
None. Then again, I almost never drive.

What was the scariest moment of 2007?
The morning of September 1st at the Four Seasons.

Did you move in 2007?
No, and that's pretty remarkable. I've moved at least once a year every year since, oh, 1989.

What was the most stressful time for you?
My life is one constant ball of stress, so it's hard to say. I will say that since mid-September, my stress levels have simmered down to a manageable level.

Did you make any new friends in 2007?
I've made a lot of them.

Did you lose any friends in 2007?
Sadly, yes. It's funny how true it is that once you start making healthy choices, your friends change.

How many people expressed a romantic interest in you?
More than I can possibly count. A lot. I don't get it, really.

How many people turned you down?
None that I can think of.

How many parties did you attend?
Dozens and dozens.

How many weddings did you attend?
None. Yep, dodged that bullet...

How many funerals did you attend?
One, my grandfather's.

What did you learn about yourself?
That the key to my personal mental health is discovering my limits, setting them, and being willing to walk away from a situation in which they are not being respected or acknowledged.

What did you change about yourself?
Almost everything, but mostly I got stronger.

What are your goals for 2008?
To keep doing the next right thing, one day at a time. To foster old friendships and discover new ones. To love myself. To resolve things with A. To make spiritual progress. To be content and happy.

new blog announcement

Starting today (the Winter Solstice), I'm taking on an x365 project of my own, thirty-four words. If you know me personally, chances are good I'll get to you at some point on there... but this will be separate from THIS blog, for (I hope) obvious reasons.

viking/dalek/pyrate panto @ the hideout 12/20

twelve-month review

This is a meme, according to which I am to list the first sentence of the first post of each month for the past year. (More year-end surveys to follow in the days to come...)

January: "Strep throat threw a monkey wrench into last week, but I'm now fully recovered and have been so since New Year's Eve, when I went to Lincoln Square Lanes with Mehgun and her new beau (and a guy from school who was stoned)."

February: "The universe is out of sorts when I spend my evening consoling men in ways that don't at least garner a PG-13 rating."

March: "If you haven't heard Shawn Colvin's version of Gnarls Barkley's Crazy on the Prairie Home Companion yet, you should check it out."

April: "After watching A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints on Friday, I was hoping Sherrybaby would offer a more chipper view of the world."

May: "I'm sure most of you have heard the story in the news: a couple was sentenced to life in prison after they starved their baby to death."

June: "tiptoeing through the used condoms/strewn on the piers/off the west side highway/sunset behind/the skyline of jersey/walking towards the water/with a fetus holding court in my gut..."

July: "I am beginning to realize that while I am rather bitter and sarcastic by Midwestern standards, I am positively beaming with optimism in New York."

August: "Seventeen years I've lived in this city by the lake, and it's a Monday afternoon whim that takes me to the beach for the first time, carrying towels, trying to remember how to walk on ground that shifts with each step."

September: "The summer is ending, but the shift feels like more than just the weather."

October: "In a wood-paneled room, with a jazz piano soundtrack and the familiar smell of cigars amid a haze of cigarette smoke, with bottles of Stella in her line of sight, with a hum of a microphone, with maraschino cherries bobbing to the surface in a row of Shirley Temples, with an empty stage in front of her, the woman who isn't drinking knows that the man smoking a cigar and nursing whiskey at the bar is the one she'd most definitely go after if she were."

November: "I am in extraordinary pain."

December: "My patience was tested yesterday."

janice dickinson, james spader, and spoon

1. Last night W. and I were goofing around with Gmail's new voice functions -- you can call people through Google talk and leave voice mail for them! Of course I don't have a microphone (but he steered me in the right direction to get one via Buy It Now on eBay), so I can't leave messages yet... but I woke up today to hear a voicemail from W. reading that same passage out of the big book that I quoted yesterday. I saved it so I can listen to it whenever I need to hear it -- which may be quite a bit.

2. I didn't get out of bed today until 12:40pm. OK, so that's not entirely true. I woke up at 9:30am and fooled around on the computer a bit before deciding to lie on the futon and watch reruns of Janice Dickinson's Modeling Agency for an hour, then fell asleep until 12:30pm. I am sooooo unmotivated today. Which makes it not all that different from any other day. Though I do feel a bit perkier since ordering a salad and root beer from Pockets.

3. Finally saw Secretary last night, and I can appreciate why it's M.'s favorite movie. Wow. I'm not into that whole BDSM thing in the least, but it certainly was an excellent movie.

4. Looking forward to the panto tonight at The Hideout -- I'll actually be at both shows (7pm & 10pm); the early one with the boys (and A. will be there with her son D.) and the later one with The Perfect Veg*n Guy, who seems to have a rather high tolerance for indecisive vegan girlfriends who keep boys at an arm's length while talking jibberish about elevators and dirty closets.

5. My new BlackBerry 8703e should be here by Monday. I'll finally have a phone currently sold in stores rather than one that weighs ten pounds* and is considered a dinosaur by most Sprint store employees.

6. Made plans to visit with my "family" in the suburbs on Tuesday. They have never met B. -- considering that he's five years old, that's a pretty good indication of how interested they are in my life. I don't think even one of them have ever asked me about my health (though they all know about my brain tumor and subsequent surgery), and it's hard to get excited about this. So why am I going? Hmm. I suppose because it feels like the right thing to do. I don't have to stay long, and (aside from homemade candies I'm making and packaging in small gift baskets) I'm not bringing presents. And on the horizon during it all will be plans to see a movie Christmas night with The Perfect Veg*n Guy. I've seen a movie on Christmas every year since 1990, and there is no reason to stop now. And since we saw a movie together on Thanksgiving, it will continue a pattern. Yes, I know you need more than two events to establish a pattern. Just humor me.

7. I won tickets to see Spoon at the Metro on New Year's Eve -- yay! What IS it with me winning this kind of stuff all the time?

* hyperbole = my specialty

sylvia plath, again...

If there's anything worse than generalized anxiety, it's a panic attack. And I haven't had one for ages, but I had one tonight (this morning?) and I hate it hate it hate it. And now all my weird thinking is cropping up -- so much so that I've got a headache. I'm making myself some warm pomegranate juice with cinnamon and running a bath to clear my head and taking a dose of B-complex vitamins. I hope it works.

I also want to know why these things happen at times when all of my friends are in bed and/or asleep. I mean, it's not as though I'd be even half-coherent if I tried to explain what's going on in my crazy lady head (as W. would say)... but just the thought that there's no one around who could even try to listen is a bit disheartening.

Off, then, to the bath. Sigh.

a five-syllable word for 'sloth'

1. If you haven't heard about Paul Janka, where have you been? At least now I know that if a guy insists on drinks instead of dinner, starts to play Looney Tunes music, sends me a horribly written pseudo-erotic letter that refers to his penis as a warm muscle, or admits he's the author of a treatise entitled How to Get Laid in New York, I'm dealing with America's Next Top Douchebag.

2. After seeing Lars and the Real Girl, I've been fascinated by the degree of dysfunction that must exist for someone to want to spend $6,000 on a, uh, doll. I am especially humored by the photos of the male doll ("Charlie") on the Real Doll website. If you're going to pose a doll in positions meant to be attractive to women, what's up with the guy sitting on the couch holding a beer and a remote control? And who wants to see a guy in a bathtub with his penis sticking up out of the bubbles? You'd think they'd pose the guy in scenes more like the ones from this website, which tickles my fancy quite nicely. And if you feel like cringing today, check out the Letters section on the Real Doll site, or the FAQ. But don't say I didn't warn you that you might need to take a shower afterward. And not in the cold-shower kind of way, but in the I feel like I have to throw up sort of way.

3. This seems, so far, to be a sex-related blog posting... which is odd, since my life is sex-free until March. I hope I'm not living vicariously through New York assholes and nerds with way too much time (and money) on their hands. Because that would be a shame. I will say, though, that celibacy is a bit more exciting than I thought it would be. I feel as though I'm 14 and playing the Does THIS count as sex? game again. (Hint: If you're asking the question, the answer is probably Yes.)

4. Completely not sex-related: the more I work the program, the easier life gets. Talking with W. over dinner last night, we were sharing the drama of past relationships and how -- in sobriety -- that intensity loses its appeal. A couple of weeks ago, The Perfect Veg*n Guy said something like It's so easy to be with you, and that feeling is absolutely mutual. I think back to how difficult things were with D. and how our relationship was one battle after another... and there were, I suppose, some positive aspects of that, the least of which was being with someone who made living on the edge feel less, well, edgy, but in retrospect it was never fun. It's weird and new and slightly anxiety-producing to enter into a relationship with someone who is officially 100% drama free -- but it's also very, very nice. And even a bit yummy. [Yes, I do use that word a bit...]

5. I keep getting e-mails at work announcing that Rudy Guiliani is visiting the company's HQ today. And, oh, I'm invited to watch a live webcast of the much-lauded visit. Of course, when I click on the link, I get a message saying I am FORBIDDEN from accessing the site. But that's okay. I'd probably just want to throw my laptop out the window if I were to see Rudy Guiliani live on my screen.

6. I'm really loving the 15 Years in 15 Days thing Q101 is doing from now until New Year's Eve. And this isn't only because I actually remember listening to the radio the very first day Q101 went on the air. At the time, I drove a 1991 navy blue Ford Escort, lived at Belmont and Lake Shore Drive, was still working at my "unmentionable" job, and spent most weekends getting drunk and avoiding coke whores begging for lines in the bathrooms of seedy bars in Stone Park. Maybe what I really like about this musical walk down memory lane is realizing how blessed I am to be where I am today. I'm willing to bet 98% of the people I hung out with back then are either dead or in jail. I know I surely would be if I hadn't walked away from that scene... and even then it was only because of an unspeakably violent and tragic event -- it wasn't even my own will that did it. Talking to people about it now, they use the word courage but that's not accurate; it was simply nothing else to do because I'd been hurt so badly.

7. In case you're wondering, the word is procrastination.

mondays? meh.

[I'm rather enjoying making lists of random stuff... deal with it.]

1. Leave it to my therapist to point out my exact problems, which -- as it turns out -- have very little to do with what I thought my issues were when I woke up this morning. My favorite analogy today: if someone with a fear of elevators always gets off when the panicking starts, s/he will never learn that the anxiety is manageable if s/he just has the wherewithal to stick it out. I now have orders to stay on my life's version of "the elevator" and start learning how to (a) have fun and (b) let people in. [Once again: anyone have any Xanax?]

2. I've decided my first visit to Europe should be sans kiddos, a proclamation W. seems to appreciate. I believe the exact way he phrased it was, You can get all the boring stuff out of the way so when we go together we can actually have some fun. Of course, No. 1 on his agenda is walking up the Eiffel Tower. We both agreed that if we're going to go to the Eiffel Tower, we might as well go to the Eiffel Tower. Personally, I'm a bit more excited about visiting the Louvre, but I suppose I can understand how a tween boy's idea of fun is a bit more expansive than trolling an art museum. As long as it's not a recreation of National Lampoon's European Vacation, I believe I'll manage. In the meantime, expect a Solo Vegan Mama Tour of Europe in mid-2008. Yay!

3. Have I mentioned how much I like The Perfect Veg*n Guy, who has assured me that breaking up with someone because she has a messy closet would, indeed, be kind of dumb? Still, I feel as though I should invest in some sort of organizational system, which would probably remain uninstalled and unused for, oh, forever while I pretended to want to become a more organized person. Which isn't really a lie... it's just that it's so much more fun to go to plays and movies and walk around the city and hang out with the kiddos and go on scavenger hunts and throw parties and bake cookies and, uh, blog that it is to color-code my underwear drawer. I suppose what I'm trying to say is (a) I'm willing to pay the price of a messy house for an active life and (b) I really do like The Perfect Veg*n Guy.

4. Collectively, as a group, my exes really irritate me. It's odd that R., with whom there was so much conflict during the divorce, is now the best of the bunch. Probably because he's the least confrontational. And, oh, I suppose it being eight years since we've been together doesn't hurt. I hope this doesn't mean I have to wait until 2013 for A. to stop being an ass.

5. My house is once again a complete mess, and I don't even care. I've decided I'm only working 20 hours a week at work for the next few weeks, and I'm just damn well going to have some fun. And W. doesn't have school on Friday, so we're having a Field Trip Day down to Daley Plaza (for Christkindlmarket) then Millennium Park (for ice skating) and AMC River East for The Golden Compass. And later that night I'm seeing Good Boys and True at the Steppenwolf with A., so the day is going to be filled with Fun Things. Which is totally better for my psyche than putting away my laundry.

6. The danger of allowing kids to swear in the car and at home (when no one other than family is around) is the very real chance that you'll be walking down Lincoln Avenue with your ten-year-old when he says, It is fucking cold outside! Of course, the right thing to say is probably not, What the fuck did you say? Especially when there is a very sweet 90-year-old woman observing the whole thing.

7. It's bath time. Or nap time. Or nap-then-bath time... Namaste.

how to enjoy shopping at your favorite neighborhood boutique

1. For three months, avoid the boutique, in which you've wantonly and frivolously spent thousands of dollars over the past two years.
   
2. During those three months, stop drinking. And lose your appetite. And start walking aimlessly all over the city wondering what to do with yourself.
   
3. Lose 21 pounds (possibly, if not probably, related to #2).
   
4. Decide you really want a sexy black skirt to wear with your new polka dot rain boots, tights, and knee-highs.
   
5. Go to the used-clothing store around the corner.
   
6. Spend 15 minutes looking at clothes that really aren't all that sexy. They are funky, to be sure, but you realize at some point that you're not particularly a retro-funky kind of gal. (This is a relief, as you were worried you might be expected to buy the dress that looks like the one your mother wore in 1968, and not in a good way.)
   
7. Begrudgingly enter your favorite neighborhood boutique, cringing at the last time you were there, the day nothing fit right and you left demoralized.
   
8. Willy-nilly start grabbing anything that is black and looks remotely sexy.
   
9. Have fun trying things on and modeling them for the customers and staff (who are happy you are back; they wondered if you'd died when you stopped going in, and you think it's kind of nice that they would think that...).
10. Realize you like the way your ass looks in the dressing room mirror.
    
11. Almost fall over at this realization.
    
12. Really really really fall in love with a $189 dress, which would be "only" $170.10 with the Secret Santa discount you "won" when you walked into the store.
    
13. Decide spending $170.10 on a dress would be, uh, dumb.
14. Buy a $54 dress and a $43 skirt, both of which make you feel fabulous.
    
15. Remember why it's so fun to wear things you love.
    
16. Realize you're beginning to be able to participate in life again, just a little bit.
    
17. Plan to wear something new on your date (possibly, if not probably, related to #16).

before I go to bed...

1. Learned today that due to "employee backlash" (and, oh, possibly because the permalancers were picketing in front of the building in NYC last week...) my employer will continue to offer the same health care benefits they're offering now (in addition to the choice of the new plan, which they still insist is better than the old one. Uh, okay. Whatever...)

2. Using the "Garden Variety Drunks" team moniker, J., A., C., and I won first place in the Watson Adventures Scavenger Hunt at the Art Institute this afternoon. Our prize: very large t-shirts. I joked that we should have a slumber party in which we could wear the shirts and have pillow fights. I seemed to be the only one interested. Afterwards we enjoyed a wonderfully decadent meal at the Russian Tea Room (the pumpkin dumplings were divine), and then braved the elements to return to our respective homes. We took a photo in front of the lions, and as soon as J. e-mails it to me, I'll post it here. We already have plans to sign up for the next scavenger hunt, recruiting a team of four men in addition to our foursome -- guys vs. gals would surely be fun (and, of course, we would totally kick their asses...).

3. Also this afternoon, I picked up my laundry from the laundromat. I figure that if I have to leave my house to do my laundry, I might as well pay 65 cents a pound for someone else to do it, rather than sitting at the house for two or three hours while A. and I avoid each other and I pretend his girlfriend isn't sitting in the bedroom waiting for me to leave. And this way I also don't have to fold any clothes...

4. The Perfect Veg*n Guy must be kept away from my closets. This shall be done at any cost. After seeing his, which looks about like this (in terms of organization and neatness, not size), I can easily see how my, uh, complete inability to keep my closet organized could be a huge red flag in terms of our compatibility. Of course, I'm only kidding. I mean...who breaks up with someone because of a messy closet? (I don't actually want to know the answer to that...)

5. I'm still pretty much a mess. During Gmail chat this evening, W. called me a crazy lady because I freak out over stupid things and obsess about small things and it's all for completely insane reasons. I do believe I need to just relax. Uh, yeah. Easier said than done. Anyone have a Xanax?

6. Despite being a mess, things have been awesome lately. Mostly I'm enjoying having friends who like to go out and do things -- for so many years I've been stuck in relationships where (a) the other person didn't want to do anything or (b) the other person only wanted to do their stuff. And so a combination of things: (a) realizing not everyone likes to be out doing things as much as I do, (b) it's silly to expect one person to fulfill all of my socializing needs, and (c) that's the reason to have a diverse group of friends to call upon. Yay!

7. Looking forward to tomorrow: lunch with M. & her family; Lyle, Lyle Crocodile at the Lifeline Theatre; work-work-work all afternoon; a kick-ass meeting with kick-ass people; and a yet-to-be-determined something or the other with The Perfect Veg*n Guy. The semester is over, it's a slow(ish) time for work, and the kids aren't out of school for another week... so this is going to be a fun, fun, fun next few days (yes, I will be visiting the spa...).

random survey

It's late at night and I don't want to work (surprise, surprise) and I'm watching lots of What Not to Wear and have big plans to watch Survivor before I fall asleep at a "reasonable hour" (uh, 1am?) and then M. posted this survey and I just have to take it...

What's worse: A one-night stand or a bad relationship?
I suppose it depends on the one-night stand... but seriously: probably the bad relationship. At least with a one-night stand you know it's going to be over after, well, one night. With the relationship, who knows when and how it will ever end?

Is it easier to forgive or forget?
For me, it's definitely easier to forgive. There are a lot of things I'll never forget but I have forgiven the people who did them.

Can men and women be "just friends"?
I think they *can* be, but it depends on the people. I have a lot of guy friends who wouldn't *ever* be any more than a friend since I'm completely not attracted to them.

Who took this survey before you?
The sub extraordinaire... and I'm talking about M., of course.

All expenses paid vacation to where?
New York City with a two-day layover in Charleston, SC.

On the way to the electric chair - what's your last meal?
Protein tidbits from Soul Vegetarian East, yam fries from Zen Palate, seitan reuben from Earwax, and chocolate cake from Lakeside Cafe.

Do you kiss and tell?
Hmm... not in a public forum such as, uh, my blog. But I do discuss romance-related things with a close friend or two.

Where was the last place you slept (other than your bed?)
My futon. I had a nice nap snuggling with B. this afternoon.

Is flirting cheating?
It depends on the intention. There are some people who flirt as a means of breaking free from "constraints" of a relationship or getting purposefully excited about the prospect of being with that other person (whether or not it ever materializes), and there are others (uh, me?) who are naturally friendly which is sometimes *mistaken* for the "bad" kind of flirting.

Would you rather have one great friend or five pals?
Definitely one great friend, without question. And I am blessed to have more than one. Yay!

If someone called you an asshole would you be offended?
It depends on why. I've come to learn that about 97% of the times people call me names, it's due to their own insecurities or issues and not actually a rational response to anything about me.

Are you OK with your S.O. being friends with other girls?
If it's truly just a friend, absolutely not. But if it's a former lover and there's still chemistry of some sort between them, then I'd have to be reassured in some way. And if there were ever any incidents where my trust was violated, then there would be a problem. But overall I try to give people the same leeway I expect for myself.

Would you live with someone without being married to them?
I have in the past, but I don't believe I would do it again. Call me old-fashioned, but I kind of think there's something romantic about waiting to move in together. Also, there would be so much more on the line for me if I were to get married again (and that is sooooo far in the future it's not even worth pondering, on some level...), the least of which has to do with my boys. I don't think I could do that to them if I weren't absolutely sure there was a definitive longevity.

Favorite sport?
Jeez. I'm pretty much anti-sports. I guess in a show of solidarity with W., I'd say basketball.

Would you rather shower or bathe?
It depends on the bathtub. The one I have now, definitely a bath.

Best friend?
In one sense, Mr. Big. But M. has certainly been eclipsing him in most all things that matter...

Do you believe in angels?
Uh, not really.

Have you ever flirted with someone you had no interest in?
Yes, I have. For a long time it was the only way I really knew how to interact with men. These days, I'm learning how to be friendly sans seductiveness.

Ever kissed a random person and then walked away?
Not that quickly, but I've kissed someone and then skedaddled.

Ever liked someone you didn't have a chance with?
Oh, boy... hasn't everyone? I think a good chunk of my life has been spent pining after people who didn't know I existed.

Are sloths cool?
I suppose I could answer this question if I actually knew what sloths looked like. But I don't, so I can't.

Is it ever okay to ask out your ex's best friend?
No, it's not. And it's not even okay to ask out anyone who is *good* friends with your ex. And it's probably not a good idea to pursue such people on Facebook or MySpace... ahem.

Ever break up with someone and regret it?
Not even for a minute.

Are you a jealous person?
Only if I'm given a reason to be. The boyfriends I've had who were honest and faithful -- never a problem. The ones who have had problems with telling the truth and fidelity -- a bit of an issue.

Would you ever have plastic surgery?
Hah! I was talking with M. tonight about my fantasy breast implants.

Future kids' names?
I might as well say Dweezil and Moon Unit because, uh, there will BE NO MORE children coming out of my womb. End of story.

Are you a beach, country, or city person?
Oh, a little bit of everything, but more of a city person than anything else. I feel at home in almost all elements, though.

Where do you spend most of your money?
It used to be drinking and eating out (yes, folks, I spent more money on eating & drinking than I did on *rent*) but now it's rent.

Do you like Fall?
Yes, I do. I can finally start covering my body up again...

Have you & your friends ever gotten pierced at a piercing party?
Uh, no. And, honestly, if you knew my friends... it wouldn't just be *ears* that were getting pierced.

Would you ever attend a piercing party if asked?
It depends on whether M. would be there. Ha ha ha -- just kidding, mama. It really depends on whether I'd be expected to watch...

Can you change a car tire?
Yes, I can! This is one of my many talents!

Would you consider yourself adventurous?
Absolutely! But no longer to the point of stupidity. That's been gone for a few years now.

Can you shoot pool?
I can pretend like I know how to shoot pool, but anyone worth their salt at billiards would know in, oh, three seconds that I suck.

Would you sing karaoke in front of co-workers/friends?
Friends, definitely. Co-workers? Absolutely not. I'm already considered the weirdest member of the editorial staff. And considering that one of the editors is a swashbuckler, I'm guessing that's saying a lot. I don't need to add "consistently makes a fool out of herself singing bad 1970s songs" to my resume.

Ever skipped school and spent the day at the beach?
Actually, I have! So, okay, it was the beach at Canyon Lake, but it was still a beach... uh, of sorts...

Single or ready to settle down?
Heh. This *would* be one of the questions... well, I'm single (not married) but also not single (seeing where something takes me) and ready to settle down (not interested in playing the field) but also not ready to settle down (absolutely needing to keep things at a very, very slow pace). So you figure it out.

Have you ever sat and hoped for a phone call?
Well, yes and no. There were times people said they would call and never did, and that hurt. But I have never sat and stared at the phone or anything. I think.

Who's most important in your life?
Me (in a good way) and then the boys.

What book are you reading right now?
Uh... A Mind of Its Own: A Cultural History of the Penis. Don't ask. Suffice it to say I'm a big fan of the penis and figured it wouldn't hurt to learn a thing or two. Uh, I mean, in addition to the extensive field research I've done...

Have you ever been confused?
No, actually, I've always been completely non-confused. WTF kind of question is this?!?!

Who was the last person that called you?
Anima Sola.

Who was the last person you danced with?
I'm fairly certain it was B.

Who makes you smile?
Oh, lots of people, including B. and W. and M. & her W. and, of course, The Perfect Veg*n Guy.

random friday thoughts

1. It's something I've said a bazillion times, but I cannot be emphatic enough: I hate the suburbs. I had the dubious honor of driving W. out to Wheaton today and I think I'm going to need a few hours to recover. I actually felt a rush when I got stuck in traffic on the Kennedy inbound. You couldn't pay me enough money to live out there again. Of course, it doesn't help matters that every time I take that drive (once every six months or so), I get to see a timeline of the first 15 years of my life as an adult, driving past nearly every landmark of trauma and heartache I could possibly find. And at the end of that trail of bad memories is my ex-mother-in-law waiting impatiently for me as I inevitably arrive an hour late and, without fail, she comments -- in exactly the same order, every time -- on the color of my hair, the fact that W. doesn't go to a "real school," and my history of tardiness. [You would think after knowing me almost 13 years that she'd have realized by now that I'm not changing...]

2. I love looking at my site stats and finding out what key words people search for to get here. Some of my favorites include:

• love to talk holding each other
• sick from eating rice
• eating rice gives cold to body
• poems about party
• bad things about eating rice
• eating rice cures piles
• hot mama sex city

I guess you never really know what will come up when you search for "hot mama sex city" but I'm guessing those guys in Thailand are looking for something a little, uh, different...

3. Have I mentioned lately how much my friends rock? Well, if I haven't... they are awesome. And today the title of Most Awesome Friend goes to Anima Sola. It's rather remarkable to have someone in my life whose history and issues are so similar to my own... she can see things I can't (and vice versa) and over the past year there seems to be some pattern of regularity of us seeking each other out for help and guidance. And just talking to her on the phone for 20 minutes this afternoon (while heading back in from the GODFORSAKEN SUBURBS) was a blessing and a Godsend. Thanks, mama!

4. There are few things in the world more pleasant than hearing B. laugh heartily. He's watching these LEGO animations right now and is completely cracking up, and if I could bottle his chuckles to save for the rest of my life, I'd do it in an instant. The only other option is stopping what I'm doing to just observe... which is why this blog is taking me eight times longer than usual to write. But that's okay.

5. Lars and the Real Girl was a tremendously heartwarming movie. I think if there are three movies on the planet to see to give you hope in the generosity and love of the human race, it would be that and Dan in Real Life and Stranger Than Fiction. There you have it: my trifecta of movies exhibiting existentialist moral ambitiousness with a backdrop of love and affection and connection.

6. I feel overwhelmed in a million different ways, but I am learning to live in that state of confusion. And it's okay. Kind of. For today, at least. And that's all I really have to worry about.

bespectacled

OK... this is officially the first blog I've written using reading glasses, and it's kind of weird. I've been straining so hard for so long while using the computer and reading that I haven't even noticed how hard it's been. And now that it's not, it's just a weird sensation, one I imagine I haven't felt since I was six and first started wearing glasses at all. The Perfect Veg*n Guy was the first person ever to see me in the new reading glasses (I tried them on for him before we saw Lars and the Real Girl at the Logan) but here's a photo so the rest of the world can see what I look like in my fancy new specs. Ugh. I mean... I knew I'd have to wear them eventually, but I am only thirty-four years old and this is entirely too soon to have any sort of visual problem that involves an ophthalmologist saying (to me) your choice: contacts and reading glasses or bifocals, and I think you're a bit young for the bifocal look... Sigh. But anyhow. I've been under the weather for a few days but am feeling better now. The company tonight (and the surprise visit last night) certainly haven't hurt. Namaste.

soundtrack of my life

The Holidailies prompt for today asks, What are a few songs that would provide the soundtrack to your life and why? Which, of course, I use as an excuse to do a silly shuffle survey asking basically the same thing...

OPENING CREDITS: Add Your Light to Mine, Baby (Lucky Soul)
...I’ve seen you dancing like no one was looking beneath the fullest moon...

WAKING UP: Get Innocuous (LCD Soundsystem)
...if you will find a way into the gold rush you will stay until the morning comes...

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL: Fake Palindromes (Andrew Bird)
...she says I like long walks and sci-fi movies if you're six foot tall and east coast bred some lonely night we can get together and I'm gonna tie your wrists with leather and drill a tiny hole into your head...

FALLING IN LOVE: Hex (Neko Case)
...You took my heart/Cast it aside/Laughed when I cried/Like it was just no big deal/And here all alone in the dark/I know just how you feel...

LOSING VIRGINITY: Steam Engenius (Modest Mouse)
...You cheered as I was split in half/A mechanical sacrificial calf/For you...

FIGHT SONG: Don't Give Up (The Noisettes)
...Sometimes they'll want to cut you down/Betta scratch that itch cos the time is now/They tell you that you gotta have a heart of steel/If you want to keep up can you afford to feel?...

BREAKING UP: Gravity (Sara Bareilles)
...Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity...

PROM: Life's a Ride (Donna the Buffalo)
...Who ever said one was better/Between night and the light of day/One is trying to get somewhere/While the other might have found his way/Life's a ride/Every bit of the way...

LIFE: Anchorage (Michelle Shocked)
...Hey girl what's it like to be in New York?/New York City, imagine that/What's it like to be a skateboard punk rocker?...

MENTAL BREAKDOWN: Jigsaw Falling into Place (Radiohead)
...The walls abandon shape/You've got a cheshire cat grin/All blurring into one/This place is on a mission/Before the night owl/Before the animal noises/Closed circuit cameras/Before you're comatose...

DRIVING: So Weird (Veruca Salt)
...You don't know me/You don't own me/You're just passing through my life/You're a stranger/With bad behavior/You're so weird I'm terrified...

FLASHBACK: Hit the Switch (Bright Eyes)
...I'm thinking of quitting drinking again/I know I said that a couple of times/And I'm always changing my mind...

GETTING BACK TOGETHER: Red Dirt Girl (Emmylou Harris)
...She tried hard to love him but it never did take/It was just another way for the heart to break...

WEDDING: Satan Said Dance (Clap Your Hands Say Yeah)
...And I know it is not how you thought it would be. No whips no chains just dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing...

BIRTH OF A CHILD: Wildcat (Ratatat)
[There are no lyrics, only a wildcat "growling" to a dance beat...]

FINAL BATTLE: The Blinding (Babyshambles)
...Come and see the blinding/It's so blinding/It's the last thing that you'll ever see...

DEATH SCENE: Not Dark Yet (Bob Dylan)
...Shadows are falling and I've been here all day/It's too hot to sleep time is running away/Feel like my soul has turned into steel/I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal/There's not even room enough to be anywhere/It's not dark yet, but it's getting there...

FUNERAL SONG: It Never Happened (The National)
...lover put me in your beautiful bed and cover me...

ENDING CREDITS: Grace is Gone (Dave Matthews Band)
...You think of things impossible/Then the sun refuse to shine/I woke with you beside me/Your cold hand lay in mine...

be careful what you wish for...

Funny how I mentioned I wanted "chicken" noodle soup... around 8:20pm my doorbell rang, and it was The Perfect Veg*n Guy, who'd stopped by Whole Foods on his way home to get me soup, vegan riblets, and soy ice cream. And then he stayed to watch TV and give me the obligatory "I'm sick and need pampering" back rub. Around midnight I kicked him out so I could write a final exam for class tomorrow & get a little bit of sleep, but I can't help but think how sweet it was for him to stop by. Looking forward to our date tomorrow night, even if I am doubtful that I'll be feeling 100% better by then. Off to bed...

my day so far

Fell asleep last night at 11pm after watching I Like Killing Flies, which is probably the equivalent of a normal person falling asleep at 6pm after dinner. Woke up around 9:30am feeling even ickier -- sniffles, headache, sneezing, achy, unmotivated, just plain sick. The Perfect Veg*n Guy offered to bring me "chicken" soup last night, but I would've felt too guilty letting him traipse through the sleet just to find me sniffly and grumpy. Now, though, I have a craving for soup. Ah, well. I've got some sweet potato bisque in the cabinet. It's not "chicken" soup, but it's something.

Had a great conversation with W. today about how I can be a better mom. We both want to be closer to each other, and we had a chance to talk about how to make that happen. Step One: hosting an all-day Harry Potter Movie Marathon for him and a few friends during winter break, complete with Potter-themed snacks. It's all a work in progress, I suppose...

So now I'm taking the day off of work and hibernating and watching movies (Magnolia, et al) and trying to take care of myself so I can feel better by tomorrow and follow through with plans to see a movie with The Perfect Veg*n Guy, complete with popcorn and cherry coke and happy times.

hypothetically speaking

The only thing worse than finding out your 10-year-old son needs glasses is arguing with him about which frames to get before begrudgingly accepting that he will never be as trendy as you'd like him to be and so the neat retro frames will remain on the shelf and, instead, you'll be the grandmother of a rather conservative pair of wire-framed glasses. And the only thing worse than accepting your son is a nerd is finding out you need reading glasses.

And even if you don't go to the eye doctor, let's say you go to a diner and order a veggie burger extra well done because you dislike soggy veggie burgers, but the waitress or the cook (or both) ignores your request and serves you a soggy veggie burger anyhow. And after the diner, you walk outside with your two children, ages five and ten, to see the #11 Lincoln Avenue bus rolling past, and you cross the street and wait 20 minutes for the next bus before you think to yourself, Well, it's only a little more than a mile, and so you start walking that "little over a mile" and it's only a couple of blocks before your feet are soaked from all the sleet and your kids' lips are turning blue but you decide that even if the bus were to miraculously come (and it never does) you would definitely not get on, since that would admit that it was a stupid idea to start walking in the first place (though it was).

But let's say that you don't go to the eye doctor and you don't go to the diner and you don't walk 1.23 miles in rain, sleet, and snow, and all you do do is bring your kids back to your ex's place -- you know, the apartment for which you pay half the rent but his girlfriend's pretty much moved into -- and you get in a screaming match with your ex on the stoop. Well, the only thing worse than even that would be if you were to walk out on him after poking his chest with your finger and he were to follow you down the street screaming at you until you were at least 100 yards away.

Not that anything like that's happened to me today.

who needs a real doll when you've got the real thing?

1. Walking home from the iGo car, I noticed Renessence Salon now offers home delivery of hair care products in Lincoln Square on Wednesdays. The sign noted this is perfect for when the weather is too nasty to go outside. And I don't know about you, but when a big snow hits or the wind chill drops below 20 degrees, the first thing that comes to mind is how I'm going to get my Aveda products.

2. Going to bed at 7am is not conducive to the sleep-deprivation management plan (i.e., Get Some Sleep) that I have been avoiding undertaking. It isn't fair in the least, but I'm blaming it all on The Perfect Veg*n Guy. If he weren't so interesting and we didn't have so much fun getting to know each other, I'm certain I would have been in bed by at least 3am. But there are (many, many) worse things in the world than staying up all night talking, watching movies, and looking at old photos. And I have to publicly announce that the extended back rub was divine. Swoon...

3. It seems as though I win something from XRT once a month. Last month, it was tickets to the Tori Amos show at the Auditorium Theatre. Today, it was a copy of Richard Hawley's latest CD. The only weird thing is that Xxx called and left a message for me at 10:30am to call her back so I could give her my address and by 12:05pm when I called back I was told, Xxx no longer works for this company, which made me feel really sad for her.

4. Whoever at Costello's thought it was a good idea to include a massive overload of pepper in the coleslaw should be shot. No, I'm not really advocating murder... but it's a bad culinary decision.

5. After elaborating on just how screwed I am, the HR rep at work said, Thank you for the support in helping us to manage through this time of change. It has been very important to us. Yes, indeed. How I'm going to "support" you is to start looking for a new job.

6. Wilco just announced they'll be playing five nights at the Riviera in February. I'll be in Albuquerque for the first two, but I'll be back for the other three. I am ecstatic...

7. It's time to take a nap.

nine decembers

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic today... had breakfast with M. & W. & D. (and they took B. to spend the afternoon at their house), then watched Genesis (fabulous cinematography!) with W., and now he's watching The Point (I'm presenting a paper on it at the SW/TX PCA conference in February) and I thought it would be fun to take a quick look at my photos (yes, I'm procrastinating...) and figured it would be especially fun to share some from Christmases past.

This first picture is my first Christmas ever (1973) with Nonna, my great-grandmother. She died in 1981, when I was eight years old, but I still have vivid memories of her.

And here is me with my father in 1974 -- for most of my life he had a beard and a mustache, but he experimented with facial hair for a while in the mid-70s. Everyone's always said I look just like him, and I guess I do, but I don't know... as I get older I think I look more like my mother (but I didn't have any photos of her with me, so I couldn't post any), or maybe I just feel more like my mother. Anyhow, in this photo my dad is 23 years old.

Fast forward to 1977 -- here's me and my little brother, T. You can't really see it, but he's wearing a baby blue polyester leisure suit with a Sesame Street dress shirt underneath. I always love looking at pictures of the two of us together when we were young -- we were so close in so many ways, but so very different at the same time.

Apparently, I was quite happy to get Mr. Potatohead in 1978.

And in 1979, Donny and Marie Osmond dolls were all the rage.

By 1981, my mother had decided it would be flattering for me to have short hair and perms for the rest of my life. At least I don't look like Little Orphan Annie in this one.

Fast-forward to adulthood. Here's approximately what I looked like in 1998. Feel free to collectively cringe.

Here's me when I lived in Naperville and tried to play the role of suburban mom. That was when W. was three years old... a lot has changed since then. Obviously.

OK, and here's me with B. in 2002, by which point I'd decided the way to cope with being a suburban mom was to put magenta streaks in my hair and get funkier glasses.

***

And most anyone who needs to know what I look like now already knows, so there's no point of putting a "2007" photo here. End of my fit of nostalgia.

aught-seven in semi-review

Thanks to M. I've got this nifty little end-of-the-year survey to give me reason (as if I needed one) not to get any work done before going to eat dinner with the vegans...

Drinking Buddy of the Year
Hands down, P. and all of his friends; however, I am grateful that ended when it did... I can't even imagine how completely screwed up my life would be if I'd continued on that trajectory.

Lifetime Service Award - Longest Friend
Oh, definitely Mr. Big. It's been nine years now, and it seems like a lifetime ago when we met -- W. was a toddler! I was still married! I was in the process of willingly moving to Wisconsin to "make my life better." And I weighed something like 190 pounds and had permed hair and bushy eyebrows and zero fashion sense (I used to wear men's flannel shirts and leggings and combat boots all winter...) Yes, things have changed since then. At the very least, I have nicer eyebrows.

Newcomer Aware - Coolest New Friend
This is a hard one to answer, since I've met so many wonderful people in the past few months. But I do have to say the one who's the most fun to hang out with lately has been A. -- she helped me get into the program (along with L.) and we are grappling with a lot of the same issues but also have similar views about how important it is to get out of ourselves and laugh with friends to be able to put the craziness aside. And, really, it was super cool on the obstacle ropes course at Navy Pier when I was freaking out about falling and she didn't make fun of me.

High Point of the Year?
My trip to New York City in July. I didn't do anything particularly spectacular (well, I went on a secret behind-the-scenes tour of Grand Central Terminal), but two things in particular defined it as transcendent:

(1) Staying in a studio apartment in the East Village, whereas before I'd always stayed in hotels, made it a much more authentic experience, and I loved being able to spend the day walking around the LES, hanging out at Teany, taking the subway to Union Square & reading in the park. It gave me the chance to really inhabit the city exactly the same way as if I were to live there, and I needed that.

(2) Spending the day at Coney Island with the Brooklyn Boy. I'm sure, if asked, he would think it was average -- walking on the boardwalk, playing arcade games, the disco bumper cars, riding Deno's Wonder Wheel, drinking Heineken and eating knishes with mustard, walking into the candy store and seeing five NYC cops lined up eating ice cream cones -- but there was something about it that was just so jarring compared to my life in Chicago. It was peaceful and relaxing and normal and fun -- no drama, no arguments, just following our whims and taking the road where it led us. It was the first time I could put my finger on what had been lacking in all of my romantic relationships so far, which is probably one reason it was so very difficult to come back home, where I was fairly certain it would be impossible to find anyone who would find spending hours walking and exploring anything short of boring. Or at least I knew that wasn't possible with the people tangled in my web back then. I think it might be a possibility now.

Low Point of the Year?
There have been so many of them, it's difficult to single out just one, but May 16-June 5 probably takes the cake for the low point. There were a few days in September that sucked, too.

Best Holiday?
B.'s birthday, even though not a national holiday, was particularly meaningful to me. It was the first time in a long time I really enjoyed being present and participating in his life, and it was beautiful.

Your Song for 2007?
This is an easy one. Damien Rice's Rat Within the Grain. It's an extremely liberating and healing song. When I first listened to it, it made me sad, but it has become a song of forgiveness. When I hear its lyrics, I realize how culpable I've been in my own destruction, how much I've contributed to allowing other people to treat me badly. And I've done these things because I wanted to be loved -- not a bad motivation on the one hand, but I needed to learn that the only person who needs to love me is, well, me. And the song reminds me of that.

Your Movie for 2007?
Year of the Dog spoke to me the most. It offered a realistic portrayal of what it's like to have a change of heart or mind and learning how to cope with a more sensitive consciousness of pain in the world.

Whom Did You Spend Valentine's Day With?
Mr. Big and I went to the Midlake show at Schuba's, and we stayed out insanely late, considering I had to leave my house at 4am to make a flight to Albuquerque the next day.

Best Relationship?
It's not a romantic relationship, but my friendship with M. has been phenomenal this year. We've been able to spend a lot more time together and it's been very nice -- but the high point was June when she took time off of work to help me through some things and then contacted me pretty much every day for a month making sure I was doing okay. [Though she recently admitted to me she was about at her wit's end with me when I went back to D. and things took a predictable downward turn... but, of course, that's understandable.]

What Were You for Halloween?
Nothing. Well, except myself. I'm not really a Halloween type of gal, though my therapist claims it may be a good goal to turn me into one. I'm, uh, skeptical.

Restaurant of the Year?
Karyn's Cooked. I love going there with folks after the meetings on Friday nights, and I take as many people as I can there all the time -- it's my favorite place in the world. Well, for a (relatively) budget-priced vegan meal. As The Perfect Veg*n Guy reminded me yesterday, the Green Zebra takes the cake on upscale vegan food in Chicago... and it looks like we'll be going there soon! Yay!

Book of the Year?
Collectively, anything Anne Lamott has written. She has changed my life, the way I write, the way I read, the way I inhabit the world. If I ever meet her, I will give her a great big bear hug.

Best Decision Made This Year?
Breaking up with D.

What Are Your Plans for Next Year?
To keep doing the things I've been doing for the past couple of months: staying sober, learning how to love myself, making healthy decisions and -- most importantly -- continuing to jump off emotional cliffs and praying for the willingness to let grace into my life.

Most Stupid Idea When Drunk
I think it's safe to say that all of the ideas I had when drunk were fairly stupid, but it was probably whatever I was thinking that resulted in waking up the next morning with a urine-soaked hand towel in my toilet.

Television Show of the Year?
It didn't come out this year (obviously), but June was the first time I watched all six seasons of Sex and the City from beginning to end within a three-week period, and a show I'd previously considered quite stupid turned into something relatively inspiring and -- dare I be silly? -- magical. Yeah, the first couple of seasons are dumb and annoying and the women are shrill and bitch. But that last season made it all pay off... and it really reminded me that we aren't the same people we were five or six (or one) year ago... that people can and do change, and it's all just everyone in the world trying to do the best they know how, and sometimes we do the right things and sometimes we don't, but it's all just everyone trying to move forward and that means something.

Most Loyal Friend?
It's a tie between V. and M. -- both for much the same reason: they stuck by me when they thought I was making some of the biggest mistakes in my life and still offered their love and support, and then they helped me pick up the pieces. And they've also both been super supportive in my sobriety, more than I could have imagined.

Biggest Change of the Year?
Getting sober + (re)starting therapy.

Biggest Douchebag Award?
I'm sure everyone expects me to say D., but I'm going to say it was me. And before you all get up in arms with your Be kind to yourself! crap... I am saying this out of honesty and awareness. By not thinking I deserved anything better, I allowed lots of people to treat me in some fairly despicable ways. Yeah, those people were wrong for what they did -- but I was also wrong for letting them continue.

New Year's Resolution?
To have someone else get next year's Biggest Douchebag Award.

assorted early-morning saturday thoughts

1. After waiting 18 months to get insurance at work, I learned they are changing everything as of January 1st. And the new plans suck. Big time. Most of the dental and vision benefits are gone. And the medical coverage isn't even comprehensive -- it's meant to be an "emergency plan" to "supplement" our "spouse's insurance" (I didn't realize spouses were standard company issue; did I miss an important memo?). This wonderful new plan will cost five times the current plan (which does include vision, dental, and full coverage). Of course, they are dangling some special new 401k plan in front of us, which is supposed to include more profit sharing and increased company matching and a quicker vesting process and... well, I don't even care. I am completely and utterly 100% not the sort of person who belongs working a full-time job in an office, but I might just have to. I waited forever for coverage, and now this?

2. I have this habit of listening to my iPod while perambulating the city and imagining that the songs are the soundtrack of a movie and this isn't really my life but someone else's life and I'm just pretending to be that person. No, I'm not schizophrenic (there are no voices...) but just wistful for something I've always wanted but is impossible to achieve: relief from being myself. And this isn't helped by believing every moment is poignant in a painfully beautiful way. It's constant: when I am emerging from the subway with a view of the skyline and Wilco's Via Chicago comes on the shuffle or I find myself half-way lost and confused because the Red Line is running aboveground and it's Damien Rice's Amie or I'm watching all the buildings go by through the "L" car windows and it's Keane's version of Goodbye Yellowbrick Road or when I finally arrive at the Western stop and Radiohead's All I Need starts to play. I am either completely insane or irresistibly charming; however, as with most of my personality quirks, I can't even begin to wrap my head around which. What I do know: there is no relief from "me." It is what it is, and that's all.

3. Walking home from the "L" I realized being happy and content and having my needs met and the idea of being with a caring person in a relationship in which there is no drama/abuse/violence terrifies me. Allowing myself to be receptive to those things is, I think, the second-most difficult thing ever, only slightly behind getting (and staying) sober. And it's not even allowing myself. It's surrendering to the unknown. It's not opening a door; it's jumping off a cliff. Or something like that. See, I can't even find the right words.

4. These assorted thoughts would be incomplete if I failed to note I've been thinking a lot about last night with The Perfect Veg*n Guy. Mostly I've been thinking Who is this person? Which translates into Since when has serendipity started looking in my direction?

disturbing news for single women everywhere

My medical anthropologist friend M.M. says,

According to research done by one of my professors (Martha McClintock - the woman who 'discovered' the woman living together menstruating together thing), being attracted to the smell of a guy means 1) your body is ready to conceive and/or 2) your genes go well together (and your body will try to convince you to conceive).

The implications of this are almost more than I can bear at this point. To be (very) clear, there is absolutely no danger of my falling into this biological quagmire, since (a) I think you've got to, uh, have sex to conceive (unless you're the Virgin Mary, and we all know that I am not...) and (b) I think it would take an act of God to get around my chosen semi-permanent birth control implement even if I were to, uh, have sex. Putting aside my own lack of risk, though, I am rather worried for my friends who may be less responsible than I am when it comes to contraception and the dating of yummy-smelling guys. I mean, once you hit 32 or 33, it's hard enough to find reasonably nice and attractive non-psychotic men who are actually interested in women their own age, and now we've got to worry that if we are too attracted to the way they smell that we're going to be overcome with an uncontrollable urge to procreate irrationally?

I liked the world a whole lot better before people started analyzing things best left to mystery, magic, and chance. And yes, I do realize that 500 years ago someone was saying that about the radical notion that the Earth might -- gasp! -- not be the center of the universe. Clearly, though, my (and my friends') dating and reproductive lives are much more important than debating heliocentrism. Galileo, after all, is so 1642.

i don't care that he invented the flexible urinary catheter

Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

-- Benjamin Franklin

I'm guessing Ben Franklin never went on a date that started at 9pm in Lakeview and ended at 3am in front of his apartment building, with a leisurely (albeit cold) four-mile walk in the snow connecting Points A and B. If he had, he might have reconsidered (or at least reevaluated the importance of being wise?). Or perhaps my brain is addled from lack of sleep. Either way, today I prefer Anne Morrow Lindbergh: Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee and just as hard to sleep after. Indeed. I think this afternoon will bring a nap.

nyc 4 nye? but, no...

The funniest thing popped into my head as I was balancing my checkbook and paying bills (a radical act, I know). I've been saving so much money (in, uh, addition to those calories...) and I've got enough sitting around that I could, theoretically speaking, travel to NYC for New Year's Eve. Airfare's down to $124 round trip, everyone's subletting their cute little East Village studio apartments for the holidays, and I'm itching to go. But, you know, I'm not going to. I am instead going to be rational and plan for a trip (definitely in January) rather than taking one willy-nilly on the spur of the moment. And the extra cash? Well, there's a cute pair of Christopher Blue jeans calling my name from The Dressing Room... perhaps I should call ahead so they have a dressing room waiting for me...

the cta: my holiday role model

Despite realizing yesterday I've lost 18 pounds since September (probably because I'm no longer ingesting an average of 4,000 calories a week of alcohol) and bearing witness to a fabulous production of The Snow Queen from Victory Gardens Theatre at the Biograph, I had a crummy evening last night, and watching 21 Grams (half at 2am, half this morning when I woke up) didn't do much to lift my spirits (dead children + addiction = not helpful). Chatting online with S. helped a bit, as did texting back-and-forth with The Perfect Veg*n Guy, but ultimately I went to bed around 3am completely drained, waking five hours later rested but restless, a feeling that continued (and was compounded by bad hair -- mostly because I didn't feel like showering) until I got on the bus and all of my angst (well, 95% of it, anyhow) was lifted by the CTA.

Yes, I know. Normally the CTA bus isn't a particularly pleasant or angst-relieving place to be. The #81 bus to Truman is intolerable because, without fail, it's packed and either (a) this crazy old guy is yelling at random people the whole way to Broadway and then walks behind me all the way up to Wilson, Tourette Syndrome-ing his way down Racine, or (b) a random pervert is figuring out how to rub up against women's asses with his, uh, pelvic area. The #78 bus is better, but it runs less regularly and I have to walk an extra block to get there and (this is most important) lots of my (current and former) students ride that bus and so if I'm having a particularly off day (because, say, I had a minor breakdown the night before and look like crap because I didn't shower) it's almost impossible for to me to just be left the fuck alone so I can listen to my iPod and play Tetris on my phone (or, uh, read the RedEye).

Today, though... ooh... today. The #78 bus was decorated for the holidays! And that included lights and displays of holiday presents on that little rack near the front where people generally put their shopping bags and garland and -- be still my beating heart! -- holiday music piping through the speakers that was so fun I turned off my iPod and put down my phone (and the RedEye) and sat up a little straighter and smiled just a little bit more and I chatted with one of my former students about how things have been going for him since I'd last seen him a couple of years ago.

And I'm still kind of beating myself up for last night, but I'm on my way to recovery. Tonight A. and J. and I are heading down to the press opening of Winter WonderFest at Navy Pier (ice skating! an extreme ice trail ropes course! an indoor Ferris wheel!) and then I'm meeting up with The Perfect Veg*n Guy for a late dinner followed by Col. Ritter's Spectacular Hour of Wonderment at the Lakeshore Theatre. And, ya know, even though I have to wake up early in the morning, that's okay. It's the last Friday class I'll have for two months, and it's winter, and I'm surrounded by so much cheer and good will if I just let myself receive it. After all, if the CTA can make an effort, can't I do the same? Namaste.

who knew?

There are some things I believe people should know about me.

1. When I use ice cubes, I always use exactly three.
2. I dislike cleaning house. It gets done, eventually, but not on anyone else's timetable. This has frustrated everyone I have ever lived with, including my children.
   
3. I always start and end eating on the left side of my mouth.
4. I get mildly panicky if I am driving my car and a palindrome is coming up on the odometer and I don't see it change over.
   
5. I twirl my hair. A lot. It's distracting. I know. I can't help it.
   
6. It doesn't bother me to do things alone. Some things I prefer solo: seeing certain movies, drinking coffee, cross stitching, reading in a cafe, crossword puzzles.
   
7. I don't like holding hands while walking down the street -- it slows down the flow too much. And I adore walking quickly.
8. I enjoy throwing parties, especially those that involve dinner, fancy desserts, interesting conversations, and (possibly) board games. You know, adult parties.
   
9. On a daily basis, I ache for New York City. Ache.
10. I can handle being hurt better than someone lying to "protect" me. It's extremely difficult for me to recover from a lie.
    
11. I'm not done getting tattoos, and I don't know when I will be. It may be never.
    
12. I'm incapable of learning a foreign language but that's not stopping me from summering in Italy one of these days.
    
13. I'm English, German, Italian, and about 1/16 Irish, but without fail people think I'm Irish.
14. There is evidence I'm extremely "gifted" intellectually, but that has not translated into an abundance of common sense.
15. I own more than a dozen kitchen appliances (electric pizzelle maker, anyone?) that have never once been used.
    
16. Even though I've lived in Lincoln Square for almost three years, I'm still surprised when people there call me by name.
    
17. Sometimes, I snore, and I sleep with my mouth open a bit.
    
18. I am an awesome cupcake decorator.
19. Clutter follows me everywhere.
    
20. It's not unusual for me to fall asleep during movies, and not just while at home on the couch.
21. I can run in stilettos. Easily. And rather quickly.
    
22. I'd rather my apartment be cold and snuggle up under the covers than for it to be hot and not have to use any blankets.
23. I have a bad eBay habit. It comes and goes, usually in direct proportion to the size of my monthly paycheck.
    
24. I'm a two-pillow kind of gal.
25. I won two blue ribbons in the county fair the year I turned thirteen: one for my chocolate chip cookies and one for a poem of mine I wrote in calligraphy.
    
26. When I was five, I wrote a book that won first place in my age category in the state of Illinois.
    
27. The spelling team I was on for UIL competition in Texas in third grade lost at state because I misspelled squirrel.
    
28. I hate chemistry (the subject) but love chemistry (the magic).
    
29. I know almost nothing about history, especially anything prior to 1920 or after 1975.
    
30. I'm an awesome paper snowflake maker.
31. My second-favorite shoes are my Chuck Taylors. Yes, stilettos and Converse. Deal with it. It says a lot about my personality.
    
32. I never miss an episode of America's Next Top Model, Friday Night Lights, The Unit, or ANY of the CSIs. I also happen to like 7th Heaven.
    
33. I am an unapologetic fan of Sex and the City, and until you watch all six seasons in their entirety (in order) I will not accept any criticism for this affection.
    
34. I am the only person I know who regularly says with a splash of soy when ordering coffee.
35. I loved Shopgirl, The Notebook, and All the Real Girls.
    
36. I don't think I'll ever be the kind of person who can work a regular 40-hour-a-week work-in-an-office job.
    
37. Despite spending $47 a month for eyebrow maintenance, I am not (and never have been) a girly-girl. My cuticles are ragged, I always forget to exfoliate, and I have no idea why I'm supposed to use eye cream to prevent wrinkles.
    
38. I miss bourbon. Not drinking it, but the idea of bourbon.
39. I procrastinate but manage to get everything done quite well.
    
40. I hate lily pads, algae, and other riverbank-y green things.
    
41. Getting my hands dirty is horrible. When I used to eat dead animals, I ate ribs with a fork and a knife. The idea of having sticky or dirty hands really freaks me out.
    
42. I think I'm done adopting animals. Like, for the rest of my life. I love them, but when the ones I have are gone, I'm done.
    
43. I have control issues. But I'm working on them.
    
44. Much to my friends' chagrin and horror, I sometimes take naps while soaking in the bathtub.
45. I'm not likely to get married again, but if I do, it will be after the person travels with me to three places: the Hill Country of Texas, Charleston SC, and New York City. I can't imagine spending my life with someone who hasn't seen me in all of my (contradictory) elements and loves me nonetheless.
    

joie de vivre

I don't usually blog about dating, but, well... it's my blog and I can dish if I want to. TPVG has commented, from time to time, that I seem cautious, reserved, and shy. People who remember my, uh, non-sober personality traits would likely be in shock at such a characterization, but -- whaddya know? -- he's actually right these days. He knows I'm sober, and he knows I not only want but NEED to take things at a snail's pace, but I felt compelled to explain my lack of, well, enthusiasm given that we'll be going out for the fourth time on Thursday and I'm still just as confused as ever about how to conduct myself as a sober person interacting with an appealing member of the opposite sex.

So I sucked it up and I was embarrassingly honest and yet it all worked out well and I am 100% relieved that it's completely okay that I have absolutely no clue whatsoever. Whew. Huh. And it was an opportunity, too, to explain "TPVG" (he was apparently stressing just a wee bit about what it could possibly mean.) And now that he knows, I suppose I can come clean here. Yes, he is The Perfect Veg*n Guy, and I will continue to fumble around in a way that feels as though I've just landed on a planet with a completely different atmosphere than anything I've ever even heard about...

End of dating discussion, especially since he'll read this.

...the girl take herself so serious...

OK, it's 3:30am and I don't want to work, so we all know what that means: taking the opportunity for a blog shuffle survey, a.k.a. a chance to see my completely contradictory musical tastes...

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
"Supernature on a Superhighway" -- Shelleyan Orphan

"Pulled petals from the demon flower unpeeled it like an orange Preserved like fruit a sensual ache Supernature on a Superhighway. like an orange. Body atlas like a velvet peach Whisper like still water and the history of the world at your finger tips..."

***

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
"Homo Sapiens" -- Cooper Temple Clause

"...force an animal to circle and keep an eye on you should you decide to have a go and try to rattle his cage..."

[I think there is a bug in iTunes, since clearly it's still set on "Vegan Mama circa June" when it should have been recalibrated to "Vegan Mama as of today" -- which is, uh, different...]

***

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
"Golden" -- Jill Scott

"I'm taking my freedom,
Pulling it off the shelf,
Putting it on my chain,
Wear it around my neck,
I'm taking my freedom,
Putting it in my car,
Wherever I choose to go,
It will take me far..."

***

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
"Death to Birth" -- Pagoda

"From ripe
To rotten
Too real
To live

Should I lie down
Or stand up
And walk around again"

***

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
"Heavyweight Champion of the World" -- Reverend and the Makers

"If you’re not living on the edge
You take up too much room"

[Again, with the busted iTunes...]

***

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
"I Wish I Was a Punk Rocker (With Flowers in My Hair)" -- Sandi Thom

"I was born too late to a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair"

***

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
"Electric Wire Hustler Flower" -- Common

"Think about the hustle and somehow I see by
But what led it to the concrete, BS be strong
You was at your hardest when you didn't even try
Live like a bitch, to bitch you gonna die"

***

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
"Muzzle of Bees" -- Wilco

"And dogs laugh, some say they're barking
I don't think they're mean
Some people get so frightened
Of the fences in between
And the sun gets passed from tree to tree
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up against the sea
Finally back to me"

***

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
"Cold Days from the Birdhouse" -- Twilight Sad

"Another hotel
With willing plans
Romantic gesture
With willing plans
And so you make it your own
But this is where your arm can't go
you make it your own"

***

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"Temptation" -- Moby

"Each way I turn
I know I'll always try
To break the circle
That has been placed round me"

[Let's not even go there right now, k?]

***

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
"Missed the Boat" -- Modest Mouse

"Of course everyone goes crazy
Over such and such and such
We made ourselves a pillar
We just used it as a crutch
We were certainly uncertain
At least I'm pretty sure I am
Well we didn't need the water
But we just built that dam"

***

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
"Godzuki" -- Sufjan Stevens

"My name is Lauramechbaidumeinchbib Beautiful Lovely Lady. Did you hear what I said?"

***

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"Direction" -- Interpol

[This song has no lyrics except "direction"... how very existentialist of you, iTunes.]

***

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
"Future Foe Scenarios" -- Silversun Pickups

"that's when it turned on me
a motorcade of 'meant to be's’
parades of beauty queens
where soft entwines make kindling
these many detailed things
like broken nails and plastic rings
will win by keeping me
from speaking to my new darling
and there's no way to know
our future foe scenarios
that's when it turned on me
where bobby pins hold angel wings"

***

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
"Someone's in the Wolf" -- Queens of the Stone Age

"Once you're lost in twillights's blue
You don't find your way, the way finds you..."

[Great, a song for something a zillion light-years away...]

***

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
"Road to Joy" -- Bright Eyes

"I could have been a famous singer
If I had someone else's voice
But failure's always sounded better
Let's fuck it up boys, make some noise!"

***

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
"Apistat Commander" -- Xiu Xiu

"all this relief, it's the oddest thing"

***

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
"From Bollywood to Battersea" -- Babyshambles

"Yeah I was a child of the suicide and the leisure
Oh one fine day I was led astray
To a burning collar
Said what's your pleasure"

***

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
"We're in this Blurred Line Closer Now" -- totom

[This is a mashup of two NIN songs... 'nuff said...]

***

WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
"Lady Don't Tek No" -- Lyrics Born

"Lady don't take no shit insist on respect
Insist to walk around like a woman
She won't speak less it's something worth sayin'
Don't play, the girl take herself so serious
People stare curious
She got a natural way, her hips sway furious, yet luxurious
Carries herself like the cutest most purdiest
Thing you've seen, this side of the bay
Go about her business so purpose-fully
She got razor sharp wit and she just won't quit
Flauntin' it, body built like a house made outta bricks
She got the smile, the style and finesse
And bounded with the blessed and profound intellect
Select few have ever seen her butt naked
And they too wanna see the rep protected, cause...
She don't like violence
But she can throw them things so don't let your guard down
Her thighs are soft but her eyes are
You can't just try tell her c'mon now
She did surgery with daisies
Alice Walker, Nicki Giovanni, o honey
Say she wanna be a doctor,
And I'll be some damn sure she could be teachin' somebody
School to street smarts, girl ain't no dummy one"

[It's about time iTunes got with the program here...]

my life, the serial

A close approximation of a conversation I had with myself Thursday, looking in the mirror, before dinner with TPVG:

It's been a while since you've worried about your thighs.

Huh. You're right.

Think you should be?

Nah, it's been kind of nice.

And it's true. It's been weeks since I've worried about any of my body parts, which have (historically) been too big, too small, too flabby, too muscular, or too masculine. At some point, I looked at myself naked in the mirror and thought, So what if you don't look like you did when you were 22? Anyone who's looking for a 22-year-old body will find someone else. This is yours and you shouldn't feel ashamed -- for Pete's sake, you've had two children! And that was that. Haven't worried since, the urges for plastic surgery have miraculously disappeared, and I feel fabulous. (Of course, it's also been weeks since I've shaved my legs and even longer since anyone has seen me naked -- unless you count the time I decided to wash the dishes after getting out of the bath and realized half-way through that I'd left the blinds open, but we won't talk about that...)

Was it really just as easy as accepting myself all along? Why have I wasted 17 years of my life thinking the way to feel loved was walking through the hot coals of dysfunctional relationships? Will this ever feel like anything short of a surprise? The next time someone says You're stunningly attractive will I be able to simply say, Thank you?

My whole life feels like a miniseries in which even I am waiting to see what happens next. Hmm. I wonder what it will be. I'm guessing, though, that it's not going to be yet another melodrama.

this is a story about snow

She can't remember building a snowman as a child (which doesn't mean it never happened). There are vague memories of pulling a sleigh to a nearby hill and feeling the rush of snowy-moist winter air against her cheeks and making snow angels and having snowball fights with neighborhood children -- but these are fuzzy and unclear and as likely to be things she read about in a storybook as they are to have happened to her. More distinct memories are of coming in from the cold, wet all over, stripping naked in the front room, putting her clothes and mittens and socks and boots on or near the radiator, hustling into "bunny pajamas" (the kind with feet), and drinking hot chocolate -- sometimes made with milk and stirred on the stove instead of the cheap powdered version mixed with water.

When the blizzard of '99 shut the city down and no one could get anywhere and she stayed tucked inside her warm house with an infant child, she remembered 1979 as if it were the day before: the day her father stayed home from work and her mother let loose and they helped her climb onto the roof and jump down -- over and over again -- into the high drifts of snow that had piled in the backyard and then went inside to make pizza with piles of cheese and homemade sauce and watch the flakes through steamy double-hung windows that let in a whiff of a draft.

The only snowman she remembers building was twelve inches tall, and it was the winter before her older son turned four. (The boy, now ten, recalls none of this, even when prodded.) They lived in an apartment in front of a small lake that only half iced over when it got cold and where geese lived year-round. There are pictures; in them both mother and son are proud, and afterward they drank (real) hot chocolate in front of the (gas) fireplace.

She thinks, now: The snow seems rather beside the point after all. Despite (or perhaps because of) this, she promises her boys they will all make snow angels this year.

the daily care and feeding of friendships

OK, as if NaBloPoMo weren't enough for me, I'm participating in Holidailies, which is a similar concept -- but they offer prompts, and today I'm snatching the one for Day Two:

Maintaining friendships... and do holiday cards help?

This is a good question, because... well... I've never sent out holiday cards. Does this make me a bad person? Socially dyfunctional? Unfriendly? Truth be told... I'm disorganized. And forgetful. And a tad bit lazy. And, honestly, opposed to the whole concept of holiday cards to begin with...

You see, in the basement at the house, I have boxes and boxes and boxes of "stuff" I've accumulated over the years, and within them there are at least five boxes of holiday cards I have ambitiously purchased over the years. Some of them are very expensive cards, others are just cute or kitschy ones I bought on a lark. All of them, though, (obviously) remain unsent. And here's the thing... I don't think my friends think I'm any less of a friend because I don't send out holiday cards.

Perhaps this is a function of my life... as I've moved around, I've fallen into and out of circles of friends. There isn't anyone actively in my life who falls into the category of "we exchange holiday cards but that's about all." To be sure, there are dozens, if not hundreds, of people I could send holiday cards to if I wanted... but what does that mean? How does it spread holiday cheer to spend money and time sending a piece of paper to someone who obviously doesn't mean enough to me to keep in contact with on a regular basis?

I'm sure this is enough to qualify me as a Scrooge for some people... but lest it be anyone's impression that I dislike the holiday season altogether, there are numerous ways in which I (a) connect with my friends and (b) spread holiday cheer -- all of which I find more meaningful and important than sending out holiday cards (that would probably arrive late anyhow, since I've come to accept that I don't do much of anything on time).

As for maintaining friendships, seeking out connections with people who get you is key... investing kindness and love and compassion in the relationships that matter and letting the rewards we reap seep out into our relationships with the world at large and onto the people to whom we are less close. And so I spend time with the mamas and their kiddos and I seek out connections with people in the program and I foster friendships (both new and old) -- and I donate time and money to charities and I "adopt" children who need holiday presents and I teach my own children the value of gratitude for our blessings. With a plan like that... well, that's what maintains friendships: being a decent and grateful person. And I have to believe that's still true whether I send out holiday cards or not. Namaste.

from friday afternoon, with w.

I do believe my children are freaks of nature. Case in point, W. in the following conversation, which I am guessing is a bit, uh, unusual for the average ten-year-old boy...

Me: Can you bring the chair into the kitchen?

W: No.

Me: Well, it was more of a request than a question.

W: I hate it when you phrase your imperatives as interrogatives.

Me: That's the way I am. If you don't like it, feel free to find another mother on the street.

W: Nah, I like you well enough.

Week of Poems: Dance Party

The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word. (Mata Hari)

Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane. (H.P. Lovecraft)

OK, so we all look a bit silly in these relatively poorly-lit videos, but we had a great time -- dancing to the likes of Of Montreal and LCD Soundsystem and Stars and Zero 7. I am exhausted -- combine an hour of dancing with radiator heat and you get a fair amount of, uh, perspiration... so, then, my fair readers, with that I will warn you: this is only the second time ever in life that I have danced sober. Namaste (and, as always, ignore my apartment's charming clutter).

Week of Poems: Day Seven

My patience was tested yesterday. I have this student who's missed a good third of the classes and therefore is never there when I hand things back and so she's spent the entire semester doing things incorrectly and when she said, I've had family problems and had the stomach flu and I think you should give me a better grade even though I never mentioned this before today, I just couldn't muster any compassion at all and said, I had two babies in the middle of semesters and had a brain tumor and brain surgery and came back to school with staples in my head and having seizures and using a cane, so you are most definitely talking to the wrong teacher today. And I felt bad about the whole thing later, but how can I possibly help people who don't even want to help themselves?

***

I dyed my hair. It's now very, very red. I still need to deep-condition it, since the process involved bleaching and lots of stress on my hair, but it should be back to "normal" within a couple of days. I like it a bunch, though. Yay!

***

I was chatting with A. on Gmail and explaining to her how I think a lot about the scene in I Heart Huckabees where they're hitting each other in the face with a ball, stunning themselves into pure being in order to truly inhabit The Now. Laughing with friends is like that. Or having good sex, or getting a nice back rub. Or being in a tickle fight, skipping in the snow, dancing with your children, and a million other things where self-consciousness melts away and it doesn't really matter what anyone else thinks or that you might have a funny look on your face or that someone else thinks you're being too weird or too silly or too anything. I want to have more moments like that, and since I've been sober I've been finding them more and more. Tonight, the boys and I are scooting away the furniture and having an official Dance Party, just the three of us. It never even would have occurred to me to do something so silly and frivolous two months ago, and today the prospect excites me so much I've got tears in my eyes. All my life... I've been searching for people and things to take me away from and out of myself, when all I've ever needed is inside me, just waiting to be let out. And in that regard... here's a poem from Aline Murray Kilmer, whose grand-daughter I had the pleasuring of meeting (online) a few years ago after I found this verse and loved it so very much.

An Apology
I’m sorry you are wiser
I’m sorry you are taller
I liked you better foolish
And I liked you better smaller

I’m sorry that you believe all you’re told
I’m sorry you always think I am lying
I liked you better when what they said didn’t matter
I even liked you better when you were crying

I’m sorry you hate all the things I do
And always put the blame on me
But I guess I should’ve seen that coming
It’s too late now; shame on me

And now I want to say I’m sorry
For being like this these past few days
I’m sorry for hurting you so
With all my unkindly ways

And now, both of us must admit
Why were we on the brink of a war?
When both you and I knew
These things weren’t even worth fighting for

But finally, most importantly
I’ll do whatever it takes
To make you open your heart to me
And forgive all of my mistakes