Monday, July 07, 2008
My Summer Vacation
i took three glorious days off of work the other week, which, when combined with the holiday three-day weekend, made for six whole days without work, a condensed summer vacation during which i did a whole lot of nothing. it was a beautiful type of nothing that has no consequences save having to do a something later. haha, i say now to that lengthy to-do list i wrote at the start of my respite before the inertia of sleep and leisure took over. i read it over now and marvel at how silly i was to think i should spend any part of my six days off at Amoeba trying to sell them the used CDs they refused to buy the last time i was there. haha, ha and ha.
the week was not entirely without activity, however. my first day off was spent at marvelous Six Flags Magic Mountain, my beau Mo in hand, riding roller coasters in 100-degree heat. we went on a whim with two-for-one coupons and, as it was a tuesday, barely wasted any time standing in line, and did well to snatch the seats at the front of the train for each ride.
the last time i spent a day at Magic Mountain was 14 years ago during my first year in college, meaning i rode a bunch of new rides this time around, many of which kicked my ass — make that my head. by 4pm, i was spent and queasy; i found myself having to sit still for 15 minutes after each ride to recalibrate my equilibrium, which was flirting dangerously with vertigo. but i refused to be outdone by my childhood hangout so i fought the nausea and trucked on, riding a few more coasters before finally conceding to my wussyhood. by then, we had ridden 10 roller coasters and managed to walk away from the park in a cloud of euphoria, our faces sunburned but smiling and with a fun caricature that we put on the fridge.
if the day at Magic Mountain served as a grad night of sorts to my abbreviated summer vacation, the rest of my week served as the rest of those three months between school years, when laziness rules divine and uninterrupted. i slept in every day, rising reluctantly yet cheerfully, stirred out of bed only when the sound of a dog panting over my face became too smelly to ignore. then i’d languish on the deck with a cup of coffee for an hour while thinking about how little i planned to do with the day.
most days were spent tooling around the house, which didn’t get a whole lot of my attention beyond the usual admiration. i did knock out a few low-effort things on my house list, like reorganizing the kitchen’s contents and setting my desk up in the office, but as far as the labor-intensive work i planned to do in the garage, well haha and ha again.
afternoons were spent reading in bed, with the new ceiling fan making a breeze. as always, my summer reading list is long and i barely managed to power through anything, finishing off just two books before week’s end, one of which i highly recommend. i also had some freelance work happening, including half a dissertation on homicide in Jamaica, in addition to the regular work i do for the ASC.
as evenings approached, i’d get in the kitchen to start the meal-making. Mo and i had a few cookouts, some of which involved good friends who came by to sample our world-famous hamburgers, mashed potatoes and gazpacho. we sat on the deck every night, eating like royalty, our meals topped off with fresh watermelon, while the dogs laid at our feet, mouths ajar and drooling. i left the house only on a few choice occasions — when i felt compelled to shop for food and cute shoes and for a half-hour massage and steam room visit. sadly, i never made it to Amoeba. (ha)
the highlight of the week is one of those had-to-be-there kind of things that involves a lot of 4th of July fireworks. namely, the multitude of fireworks i witnessed blowing up over Highland Park while i sat on my deck, transfixed for three hours. a neighbor mentioned the yearly display casually, saying he’s had to tranquilize his dog before and now just stays across town with his daughter on that night. but i thought nothing of it since most fireworks are illegal in Cali.
haha on me. by 8pm, the place was on fire in a strange mix of disneyland and baghdad. explosions went off every few seconds, followed by colorful sparkles that seemed to occupy every inch of the night sky. to say that there were hundreds of fireworks going off at once is not an exaggeration. to the left, right, overhead, down the road and everywhere else saw a Tijuana firework exploding. from my perfect vantage point on the deck i could see my neighbors’ yards full of bright flashes and booms, while Juice paced nervously through the house, whimpering.
i kept expecting a lull, something to taper off the festivities so i could go back into the house and replenish my vodka spritzer, but the fireworks kept popping for hours like a bag of microwaveable popcorn, with the last few kernels erupting around midnight. all the while, Mo and i sat on the deck in silence, muttering a few holy shits under our breath as a rainbow of fruit flavors blew up all around us. i was stunned, hypnotized, amazed. i had never seen so many fireworks in my whole life. it was AWESOME. everyone in the world is invited to my house next year to see the show along with me.
the week ended predictably: with a major case of sunday blues that pushed me into bed teary-eyed, declaring to Mo that i never wanted to work again and that i better win the lottery before my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am or else something bad would happen. predictably, something bad did happen: my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am, forcing me out of bed without cheer to start work at my new job, which i agonized over like it was the first day of school.
the week was not entirely without activity, however. my first day off was spent at marvelous Six Flags Magic Mountain, my beau Mo in hand, riding roller coasters in 100-degree heat. we went on a whim with two-for-one coupons and, as it was a tuesday, barely wasted any time standing in line, and did well to snatch the seats at the front of the train for each ride.
the last time i spent a day at Magic Mountain was 14 years ago during my first year in college, meaning i rode a bunch of new rides this time around, many of which kicked my ass — make that my head. by 4pm, i was spent and queasy; i found myself having to sit still for 15 minutes after each ride to recalibrate my equilibrium, which was flirting dangerously with vertigo. but i refused to be outdone by my childhood hangout so i fought the nausea and trucked on, riding a few more coasters before finally conceding to my wussyhood. by then, we had ridden 10 roller coasters and managed to walk away from the park in a cloud of euphoria, our faces sunburned but smiling and with a fun caricature that we put on the fridge.
if the day at Magic Mountain served as a grad night of sorts to my abbreviated summer vacation, the rest of my week served as the rest of those three months between school years, when laziness rules divine and uninterrupted. i slept in every day, rising reluctantly yet cheerfully, stirred out of bed only when the sound of a dog panting over my face became too smelly to ignore. then i’d languish on the deck with a cup of coffee for an hour while thinking about how little i planned to do with the day.
most days were spent tooling around the house, which didn’t get a whole lot of my attention beyond the usual admiration. i did knock out a few low-effort things on my house list, like reorganizing the kitchen’s contents and setting my desk up in the office, but as far as the labor-intensive work i planned to do in the garage, well haha and ha again.
afternoons were spent reading in bed, with the new ceiling fan making a breeze. as always, my summer reading list is long and i barely managed to power through anything, finishing off just two books before week’s end, one of which i highly recommend. i also had some freelance work happening, including half a dissertation on homicide in Jamaica, in addition to the regular work i do for the ASC.
as evenings approached, i’d get in the kitchen to start the meal-making. Mo and i had a few cookouts, some of which involved good friends who came by to sample our world-famous hamburgers, mashed potatoes and gazpacho. we sat on the deck every night, eating like royalty, our meals topped off with fresh watermelon, while the dogs laid at our feet, mouths ajar and drooling. i left the house only on a few choice occasions — when i felt compelled to shop for food and cute shoes and for a half-hour massage and steam room visit. sadly, i never made it to Amoeba. (ha)
the highlight of the week is one of those had-to-be-there kind of things that involves a lot of 4th of July fireworks. namely, the multitude of fireworks i witnessed blowing up over Highland Park while i sat on my deck, transfixed for three hours. a neighbor mentioned the yearly display casually, saying he’s had to tranquilize his dog before and now just stays across town with his daughter on that night. but i thought nothing of it since most fireworks are illegal in Cali.
haha on me. by 8pm, the place was on fire in a strange mix of disneyland and baghdad. explosions went off every few seconds, followed by colorful sparkles that seemed to occupy every inch of the night sky. to say that there were hundreds of fireworks going off at once is not an exaggeration. to the left, right, overhead, down the road and everywhere else saw a Tijuana firework exploding. from my perfect vantage point on the deck i could see my neighbors’ yards full of bright flashes and booms, while Juice paced nervously through the house, whimpering.
i kept expecting a lull, something to taper off the festivities so i could go back into the house and replenish my vodka spritzer, but the fireworks kept popping for hours like a bag of microwaveable popcorn, with the last few kernels erupting around midnight. all the while, Mo and i sat on the deck in silence, muttering a few holy shits under our breath as a rainbow of fruit flavors blew up all around us. i was stunned, hypnotized, amazed. i had never seen so many fireworks in my whole life. it was AWESOME. everyone in the world is invited to my house next year to see the show along with me.
the week ended predictably: with a major case of sunday blues that pushed me into bed teary-eyed, declaring to Mo that i never wanted to work again and that i better win the lottery before my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am or else something bad would happen. predictably, something bad did happen: my alarm went off the next morning at 6:30am, forcing me out of bed without cheer to start work at my new job, which i agonized over like it was the first day of school.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Annual
yippee to 2008, which will be so great that i can’t wait to meet my lovely fate in this big golden state which i almost ate, um, for lunch, it was tuna — tunate? ok, wait. i’m getting ahead of myself but i am fully stoked that this year has arrived. i did indeed go into it wide eyed and smiling, joined by a handful of close friends who also lacked grandiose plans so they came over to drink at my place and clink glasses to the new year. and we drank and we clinked and it was warm, loving and positively invigorating.
i must confess that i was in a pretty heavy fog these past few months, walking around with head and spirits low. i started to think that i should go see a head shrinker or a psychic or someone, anyone who could pull me out of my funk. then the light shone and the thought dropped in that maybe i could be the one to pull myself out with some positive thinking and visit to the masseuse.
now is all better. i’m into the year and happy to have the holidays over. work is plentiful but that’s ok because so is my motivation. now is the time to get shit done. and i’m doing up a storm and reveling in the productive.
in addition to the predictable new year’s resolutions of being effortlessly fabulous, buying a house and banging johnny depp, i’ve made some others especially for this year. they include:
y'all enjoy yours too.
i must confess that i was in a pretty heavy fog these past few months, walking around with head and spirits low. i started to think that i should go see a head shrinker or a psychic or someone, anyone who could pull me out of my funk. then the light shone and the thought dropped in that maybe i could be the one to pull myself out with some positive thinking and visit to the masseuse.
now is all better. i’m into the year and happy to have the holidays over. work is plentiful but that’s ok because so is my motivation. now is the time to get shit done. and i’m doing up a storm and reveling in the productive.
in addition to the predictable new year’s resolutions of being effortlessly fabulous, buying a house and banging johnny depp, i’ve made some others especially for this year. they include:
- keep your eye on the prize: remember that your family, friends and dogs are what’s most important in this crazy world and that everything you do should be tied to their betterment as well as your own. (apologies to the starving children in africa.)
- eat less meat: this one will be hard because you are a carnivorous (yet kind) soul who thinks that a meal is not really a meal unless there is a dead animal on your plate. but healthwise, you could probably benefit by cutting down on your filet consumption so go find some good tofu recipes.
- spend less time in front of the computer: this will probably be harder because although your computer doesn’t taste as good as a steak, it is less fattening and presumably less harmful to your health, despite its potential for time suckage and a sedentary lifestyle.
- calm the fuck down: having a puppy with an implacable will really made you realize what an impatient madwoman you have turned into. those first few months with Pinko were quite rough and compelled you to behave more like mommie dearest than mother teresa, you bitch. however, you’ve since learned that a few deep breaths will go a long way when puppy’s tail knocks glasses full of red wine off the coffee table or when you come home to find your underwear buried in the yard. so keep breathing.
- whine less: seriously. your life isn’t so bad. instead, consider adopting cousin Gitella’s mantra of “shut up and do it.”
- spoil yourself more: sadly, you’ve begun to realize that you’re just an overemotional crybaby prone to spells of depression who needs to step away from life periodically to recharge. this could be caused by unresolved teen angst or by chemicals in the brain or by simply being a jewish woman who worries too much. whatever the case, this year it will give you license to get more massages, facials and microderms. not a bad bright side. now go enjoy your year.
y'all enjoy yours too.
Labels: holidays, resolutions
Friday, November 23, 2007
Nothing New Really
still being a bizzy bee, with day job and freelance by moonlight occupying every moment. i’m hoping to wrap up this damn book i’m editing in the next few weeks. i can see the finish line and am inching steadily toward it like a marathon runner, though i worry my knees will buckle at the last mile. i’m already tired as fuck, cranky as hell. i want it to end already so i can get some sleep. soon, soon, young grasshopper.
thanksgiving was very nice. i’m sure i can do better than “nice,” but that’s all i got. we had it at my sister’s house this year and had too much food on the table, as jews tend to have, with my sister making ham, my ma making pork chops and me making my world-famous zucchini lasagna. add to that about a million side dishes and you have a feast for an army, though we were just seven.
since we were once poor immigrants, we can’t bear to watch good food go to waste, so we proceeded to stuff ourselves to the brim until we were all sitting around the table groaning, hands on our bellies and our pants unbuttoned. then we collapsed on the couch, popped in some dreadful mandy moore romantic comedy for the kids and drifted into fantasyland until dessert magically appeared on the table. then we ate some dessert. and by “we,” i mean i.
this year, i opted out of the standard what i’m thankful for on thanksgiving post because i’ve done it countless times before and guess what? nothing’s changed. i’m still most thankful for all the living beings around me who fill up my heart with light and make me strive to be a better human being, blah, blah, etc. so thanks, skanks!
i do wish to give a special shout-out to the latest living being that’s enriched my life for the better — my indomitable, inexhaustible puppy Pinko, who’s taught me that i can offer unconditional love to a creature that gets on my every last nerve and drives me bat-shit insane most of the time before turning on the cute and making it all better at just the right moment. but i guess that’s parenthood for you.
beyond that, i’m trying to get myself together for 2008, which means setting some realistic goals, half of which i really really hope i will keep. they include eating less and exercising more (hahahahahahaha!!) and, of course, buying a house. they also include blogging more and banging johnny depp.
thanksgiving was very nice. i’m sure i can do better than “nice,” but that’s all i got. we had it at my sister’s house this year and had too much food on the table, as jews tend to have, with my sister making ham, my ma making pork chops and me making my world-famous zucchini lasagna. add to that about a million side dishes and you have a feast for an army, though we were just seven.
since we were once poor immigrants, we can’t bear to watch good food go to waste, so we proceeded to stuff ourselves to the brim until we were all sitting around the table groaning, hands on our bellies and our pants unbuttoned. then we collapsed on the couch, popped in some dreadful mandy moore romantic comedy for the kids and drifted into fantasyland until dessert magically appeared on the table. then we ate some dessert. and by “we,” i mean i.
this year, i opted out of the standard what i’m thankful for on thanksgiving post because i’ve done it countless times before and guess what? nothing’s changed. i’m still most thankful for all the living beings around me who fill up my heart with light and make me strive to be a better human being, blah, blah, etc. so thanks, skanks!
i do wish to give a special shout-out to the latest living being that’s enriched my life for the better — my indomitable, inexhaustible puppy Pinko, who’s taught me that i can offer unconditional love to a creature that gets on my every last nerve and drives me bat-shit insane most of the time before turning on the cute and making it all better at just the right moment. but i guess that’s parenthood for you.
beyond that, i’m trying to get myself together for 2008, which means setting some realistic goals, half of which i really really hope i will keep. they include eating less and exercising more (hahahahahahaha!!) and, of course, buying a house. they also include blogging more and banging johnny depp.
Labels: holidays
Friday, November 24, 2006
The Shit List
rather than run through the usual list of things i’m thankful for, which i’ve done countless times in the past, i figure it’s more useful for me (and entertaining for you) to run through a list of all the less-than-blessed things i’ve done this past year or two.
certainly i’ve committed no murders, save the occasional spider or cricket, but i’m hardly an exemplary humanitarian and i’m still ages from becoming the person i’d like to be (a retired superhuman). just kidding! i would totally be a philanthropist.
i must also confess that something inside me is convinced that my toe drama resulted from my being a lackluster jew this year – every year in fact. i don’t remember the last time i observed my culture’s holy days in any meaningful way. then for a giggle, i ridiculed the devout in my last blogging. and to top it off, i’ve lapsed from my once regular yoga practice, causing another blow to my “spirituality.” blasphemy to the bone!
so now i atone for my wretchedness:
• perhaps, maybe, probably a few times i’ve called in sick to work this past year i could have mustered up the strength to come in. not every time, though. and if you’re my boss, i totally was sick.
• i’ve been an L.A. flake aplenty – missing parties, screening phone calls, deleting emails and ignoring instant messages, often times very deliberately. most of the time, it’s just that i’m too wrapped up in my own dealings to be bothered, though there have been occasions when the people themselves are the bother.
• also bothersome was the length of Mo’s list for me when i told him about this entry. i guess i need to get better about taking care of his CDs and DVDs, like i do my own, putting my dishes into the dishwasher and apologizing when i’m wrong.
• juice likely has complaints of her own. having a yard in the back has made long walks through the neighborhood far less frequent. and i’m sure my fish hates me for almost killing him this year and not changing his water enough.
• i still use my expired student ID from grad school to get discounts on movie tickets and museum admissions.
• many, many blog-related regrets, none of which i care to link to lest they perpetuate my own personal embarrassment. but trust that i cringe aplenty when rereading past entries that highlight my bad writing and overblown ego, and contain overly intimate disclosures and the occasional grammatical or spelling error.
• to be filed under Megabitch Moments: i fancy myself much like the gentle stingray that swims through life wholly peacefully, only attacking when provoked. yet when i do attack, i will stab you in the heart. in recent times, a handful of people have tapped into this ire with their comments and actions, to which i’ve replied with a mighty verbal beatdown when i probably should have taken the high road instead. in no particular order, these people include: my sometimes critical parents, rude waitstaff, Mo on a bad day, an ex-boyfriend’s immature girlfriend, an overbearing coworker, unsavory car mechanics and a girl who tried to feed chocolate to my dog.
what a cunt i am! and how thoroughly déclassé to even use that word. i am going straight to hell. oh, wait a second, jews don’t believe in hell so i’m all set. phew.
truth is that i don’t regret all the happenings on this list (except the part about being a deadbeat dog mom). i do believe employees should use sick days as needed – that is what they are for – and i believe that, on occasion, people need to be told to “fuck off” when they are being ridiculous, myself included.
still, this list is rather mild when i consider the types of “sins” i committed in my early twenties when i partied nonstop and shot my mouth off for sport. i like to believe that my bitchiness is more purposeful nowadays, even ethical, succeeding where the passive high road fails. there are definitely things worth shouting about and bitchiness has its benefits.
i certainly don’t shout as much as i did before and in another 10 years – when i’m trying to get into movies under a senior discount – i hope to be shouting even less. guess this means that i’ve always been and always will be a bitch, but hopefully i’ll keep getting better at it.
happy thanksgiving, turkeys.
certainly i’ve committed no murders, save the occasional spider or cricket, but i’m hardly an exemplary humanitarian and i’m still ages from becoming the person i’d like to be (a retired superhuman). just kidding! i would totally be a philanthropist.
i must also confess that something inside me is convinced that my toe drama resulted from my being a lackluster jew this year – every year in fact. i don’t remember the last time i observed my culture’s holy days in any meaningful way. then for a giggle, i ridiculed the devout in my last blogging. and to top it off, i’ve lapsed from my once regular yoga practice, causing another blow to my “spirituality.” blasphemy to the bone!
so now i atone for my wretchedness:
• perhaps, maybe, probably a few times i’ve called in sick to work this past year i could have mustered up the strength to come in. not every time, though. and if you’re my boss, i totally was sick.
• i’ve been an L.A. flake aplenty – missing parties, screening phone calls, deleting emails and ignoring instant messages, often times very deliberately. most of the time, it’s just that i’m too wrapped up in my own dealings to be bothered, though there have been occasions when the people themselves are the bother.
• also bothersome was the length of Mo’s list for me when i told him about this entry. i guess i need to get better about taking care of his CDs and DVDs, like i do my own, putting my dishes into the dishwasher and apologizing when i’m wrong.
• juice likely has complaints of her own. having a yard in the back has made long walks through the neighborhood far less frequent. and i’m sure my fish hates me for almost killing him this year and not changing his water enough.
• i still use my expired student ID from grad school to get discounts on movie tickets and museum admissions.
• many, many blog-related regrets, none of which i care to link to lest they perpetuate my own personal embarrassment. but trust that i cringe aplenty when rereading past entries that highlight my bad writing and overblown ego, and contain overly intimate disclosures and the occasional grammatical or spelling error.
• to be filed under Megabitch Moments: i fancy myself much like the gentle stingray that swims through life wholly peacefully, only attacking when provoked. yet when i do attack, i will stab you in the heart. in recent times, a handful of people have tapped into this ire with their comments and actions, to which i’ve replied with a mighty verbal beatdown when i probably should have taken the high road instead. in no particular order, these people include: my sometimes critical parents, rude waitstaff, Mo on a bad day, an ex-boyfriend’s immature girlfriend, an overbearing coworker, unsavory car mechanics and a girl who tried to feed chocolate to my dog.
what a cunt i am! and how thoroughly déclassé to even use that word. i am going straight to hell. oh, wait a second, jews don’t believe in hell so i’m all set. phew.
truth is that i don’t regret all the happenings on this list (except the part about being a deadbeat dog mom). i do believe employees should use sick days as needed – that is what they are for – and i believe that, on occasion, people need to be told to “fuck off” when they are being ridiculous, myself included.
still, this list is rather mild when i consider the types of “sins” i committed in my early twenties when i partied nonstop and shot my mouth off for sport. i like to believe that my bitchiness is more purposeful nowadays, even ethical, succeeding where the passive high road fails. there are definitely things worth shouting about and bitchiness has its benefits.
i certainly don’t shout as much as i did before and in another 10 years – when i’m trying to get into movies under a senior discount – i hope to be shouting even less. guess this means that i’ve always been and always will be a bitch, but hopefully i’ll keep getting better at it.
happy thanksgiving, turkeys.
Labels: holidays, resolutions
Saturday, February 11, 2006
VD
valentine's day sucks, man. it's so commercial and contrived, full of fakery that never seems to extend to all the other days of the year. and those little, heart-shaped candies are nauseating and taste like sugary wax. flowers die and chocolates make you fat. pink is the ugliest color. it's the worst day of the year.
at least those were my sentiments when i wrote the following piece two years ago. i was enrolled in a column writing class, which i re-imagined as a seminar for writing personal essays since, you know, that's what i do here. (it's always been all about the blog.) but at that time, it was also all about wretched heartache. i had split from my boyfriend of four years rather unexpectedly, just weeks before the dreaded VD.
that produced much ado, most of which is housed in the archives: internet dating, harems, run-ins with the ex, graduation followed by poverty and eventual employment, and now a new boyfriend i'm really digging. the best of times, the worst of times. here is a sampling from the worst:
My Funny Valentine's Day at a Singles Mixer
Valentine’s Day. I find myself suddenly single again after four years off the market. It doesn’t bother me much that I’m alone on Valentine’s Day, but it seems to bother other people, who insist I join them for the evening. I tell them I’m too busy unpacking boxes, having just moved into a new place following the sudden split, but Zahra is damn persistent.
“Girl, I got us on the list for the Match.com party in Hollywood,” she says in her Jamaican accent.
“Ah, the coveted Los Angeles list,” I remark.
“Yeah, as in we don’t have to pay $25 at the door.”
It’s Saturday. I’ve been single exactly three weeks, and she’s insisting I dive headfirst into what’s sure to be the largest and saddest meat marketing event of the year.
“Match.com, that online dating service, is throwing a party in Hollywood on Valentine’s Day? It’ll be full of losers—”
“— And us,” she quips.
So we go. It’s my first foray into L.A.’s treacherous bar scene as a solo artist, and I commemorate the event by wearing high heels, a dangerously low-cut top and a push-bra that thrusts those puppies right below my chin. I feel like a clown, but Zahra says I look good, so it’s OK.
We enter the place, and as expected, find a sausage party in full swing. Sadness Central, we have arrived. Men idly stand around surveying the room while groups of girls huddle together, whispering and pointing.
I suddenly flash back to a junior high-school dance and look down at my feet, just as I did then, but that’s where the similarities end. Today, my feet are covered in sequined high heels, and I’m far less shy, less naïve, less optimistic than before, yet just as uncomfortable as ever.
I begin to survey the scene as well and am stunned by the sea of losers L.A. has to offer me on this lovesick night. On display are ugly guys in suits and red ties, awkward men with no fashion sense or sense of self, and the occasional decent guy who seems to disappear into the crowd as quickly as he appeared, making me wonder if he were just a mirage.
The room stinks to high hell of desperation and disappointment — a veritable lonely hearts club, of which I am now, too, a member. And I wonder if they can smell it on me as well, if I wear my sorrow like a cheap perfume that permeates the room, repelling people and making their noses wrinkle up in disgust.
Meanwhile, Zahra is getting all kinds of attention from all sorts of strangers, some of them decent. Zahra, Miss Jamaica 2001, contender for the Miss Universe crown, sporting her taut pageant body and flawless pageant face, while I stand unnoticed, Miss Siberia 1979, Soviet export unextraordinnaire, wrapped in heartache and baby fat. Note to self: Never go to a singles mixer with a former beauty queen again!
And I begin to wonder why the hell I came, why I wore this top, as goons stare at my chest, why I don’t leave right now.
I know why. It’s for that small hope buried deep within me that I’d catch the eye of a handsome stranger — hopefully one who looked like him — who would offer up a shy smile, a flash of desire registering on his face to make me feel wanted again, make me feel like a woman again after he made me feel so unwanted with his cheating. That’s all I’d need to go home satisfied.
But it won’t happen, not tonight anyway.
“I’m out of here,” I say to Zahra, who grabs my arm when I try to walk away, her eyes imploring me to save her from the goons currently asking her to dinner.
“Let’s at least go to another bar,” I offer.
So we go, and there we stay finishing off our evening and several glasses of wine while exploring the farthest reaches of girl talk before we call it a night and get into our respective cars.
As I rev up the engine for my short drive home, I feel the ghost of Valentines’ past grip me, and I flash to that first Valentine’s Day he and I spent together, just weeks after we met, sitting in my bedroom in San Francisco, eating $5 burritos from the joint down the street, giggling without shame as we fumbled over each other and our new love.
And then the following year, after he moved me into his life and home in Los Angeles, when I came from work to find a surprise candlelight dinner awaiting me. I never knew he could cook, but there on the table were two plates of lemon chicken with new potatoes and the most delicious baby carrots. The trick, he said, was adding a handful of sugar while they boiled. They were so sweet.
And I begin to wonder what he’s up to tonight, whether he has already found someone to pass the time with. Would it be wrong of me to call? Could he be with her, whom he ruined us for, though he says she was nothing? Better she were something, so I could be discarded for something more meaningful than one night with a total stranger. I probably shouldn’t care but I don’t know how to stop.
I think all this and my heart gets heavy again, as it does every time I arrive home and step into my empty apartment.
at least those were my sentiments when i wrote the following piece two years ago. i was enrolled in a column writing class, which i re-imagined as a seminar for writing personal essays since, you know, that's what i do here. (it's always been all about the blog.) but at that time, it was also all about wretched heartache. i had split from my boyfriend of four years rather unexpectedly, just weeks before the dreaded VD.
that produced much ado, most of which is housed in the archives: internet dating, harems, run-ins with the ex, graduation followed by poverty and eventual employment, and now a new boyfriend i'm really digging. the best of times, the worst of times. here is a sampling from the worst:
My Funny Valentine's Day at a Singles Mixer
Valentine’s Day. I find myself suddenly single again after four years off the market. It doesn’t bother me much that I’m alone on Valentine’s Day, but it seems to bother other people, who insist I join them for the evening. I tell them I’m too busy unpacking boxes, having just moved into a new place following the sudden split, but Zahra is damn persistent.
“Girl, I got us on the list for the Match.com party in Hollywood,” she says in her Jamaican accent.
“Ah, the coveted Los Angeles list,” I remark.
“Yeah, as in we don’t have to pay $25 at the door.”
It’s Saturday. I’ve been single exactly three weeks, and she’s insisting I dive headfirst into what’s sure to be the largest and saddest meat marketing event of the year.
“Match.com, that online dating service, is throwing a party in Hollywood on Valentine’s Day? It’ll be full of losers—”
“— And us,” she quips.
So we go. It’s my first foray into L.A.’s treacherous bar scene as a solo artist, and I commemorate the event by wearing high heels, a dangerously low-cut top and a push-bra that thrusts those puppies right below my chin. I feel like a clown, but Zahra says I look good, so it’s OK.
We enter the place, and as expected, find a sausage party in full swing. Sadness Central, we have arrived. Men idly stand around surveying the room while groups of girls huddle together, whispering and pointing.
I suddenly flash back to a junior high-school dance and look down at my feet, just as I did then, but that’s where the similarities end. Today, my feet are covered in sequined high heels, and I’m far less shy, less naïve, less optimistic than before, yet just as uncomfortable as ever.
I begin to survey the scene as well and am stunned by the sea of losers L.A. has to offer me on this lovesick night. On display are ugly guys in suits and red ties, awkward men with no fashion sense or sense of self, and the occasional decent guy who seems to disappear into the crowd as quickly as he appeared, making me wonder if he were just a mirage.
The room stinks to high hell of desperation and disappointment — a veritable lonely hearts club, of which I am now, too, a member. And I wonder if they can smell it on me as well, if I wear my sorrow like a cheap perfume that permeates the room, repelling people and making their noses wrinkle up in disgust.
Meanwhile, Zahra is getting all kinds of attention from all sorts of strangers, some of them decent. Zahra, Miss Jamaica 2001, contender for the Miss Universe crown, sporting her taut pageant body and flawless pageant face, while I stand unnoticed, Miss Siberia 1979, Soviet export unextraordinnaire, wrapped in heartache and baby fat. Note to self: Never go to a singles mixer with a former beauty queen again!
And I begin to wonder why the hell I came, why I wore this top, as goons stare at my chest, why I don’t leave right now.
I know why. It’s for that small hope buried deep within me that I’d catch the eye of a handsome stranger — hopefully one who looked like him — who would offer up a shy smile, a flash of desire registering on his face to make me feel wanted again, make me feel like a woman again after he made me feel so unwanted with his cheating. That’s all I’d need to go home satisfied.
But it won’t happen, not tonight anyway.
“I’m out of here,” I say to Zahra, who grabs my arm when I try to walk away, her eyes imploring me to save her from the goons currently asking her to dinner.
“Let’s at least go to another bar,” I offer.
So we go, and there we stay finishing off our evening and several glasses of wine while exploring the farthest reaches of girl talk before we call it a night and get into our respective cars.
As I rev up the engine for my short drive home, I feel the ghost of Valentines’ past grip me, and I flash to that first Valentine’s Day he and I spent together, just weeks after we met, sitting in my bedroom in San Francisco, eating $5 burritos from the joint down the street, giggling without shame as we fumbled over each other and our new love.
And then the following year, after he moved me into his life and home in Los Angeles, when I came from work to find a surprise candlelight dinner awaiting me. I never knew he could cook, but there on the table were two plates of lemon chicken with new potatoes and the most delicious baby carrots. The trick, he said, was adding a handful of sugar while they boiled. They were so sweet.
And I begin to wonder what he’s up to tonight, whether he has already found someone to pass the time with. Would it be wrong of me to call? Could he be with her, whom he ruined us for, though he says she was nothing? Better she were something, so I could be discarded for something more meaningful than one night with a total stranger. I probably shouldn’t care but I don’t know how to stop.
I think all this and my heart gets heavy again, as it does every time I arrive home and step into my empty apartment.
Friday, December 31, 2004
New Year's Greetings
consider this the virtual season's greetings card i meant to send you but never did:
happy new year from Juice and I to you and yours. may your 2005 be full of sunshine and rest. and remember to cherish each day you have and each person you care for because, as we've recently seen, it can all be swept away at any time. i hope health and happiness fill your life and home, now and always. maintain perspective, don't allow stress to get to you, and be kind to people you don't know. try to spend time with children. trust life. marvel at the universe. and smile more.
cheers.
Labels: holidays
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Count Your Blessings
that's the cliche of the day i wrote on the dry-erase board i recently hung over my desk. i saw 'motorcycle diaries' over the weekend -- the based-on-a-true-story story of che guevara and his trek through south america. he and his buddy just journey around the continent for shits and giggles. they see crazy injustice all over: homeless indigenous peoples and persecuted communists and muddied children with leprosy. and at the end of it all, che decides to become the revolutionary he became.
i did feel bad for what i saw, knowing that 50 years later not much has changed in south america, but those moments passed, the way moments do, and my sympathy amounted to nothing. i'll still go on my merry way, having to make those tough decisions about what type of new car to buy next year, while others elsewhere in places i don't have to see starve. i often forget this, probably intentionally, as i wade through the minor melodramas of my life. i wish i could be impacted enough to turn into a militant revolutionary fighting for others' causes instead of my own, just like che, but i'm not built that way, and that's the reality i must face. i'm just not that selfless.
but i don't feel guilty for what i have. in fact, watching this made me very, very thankful. it made my troubles seem teeny tiny, which is likely their actual size. and it made the good fortunes that have befallen me seem that much better. i try not to take what i have for granted, and i don't think i do. it's part of the way i was raised. i'm an immigrant, and that has made a huge impression on my mindscape.
so with this and the holiday season in mind, i began thinking of all the things i'm thankful for this thanksgiving. i began to count my blessings and saw that they weren't so different from the ones i enumerated in last year's December 1 entry. in short, i'm a lucky fucking duckie, and this knowledge will carry me through the many more trips i'll surely make to craplandia: that place -- whether real or imagined -- where everything just sucks. i've visited there many times this year, and a few key people/a dog have managed to pull me out every single time:
-- my amazing parents: they're the type of parents you'd ask santa to bring you for christmas when you were unhappy with your own. without their support, i might just live in craplandia. i can't say enough good things about them here, because there simply aren't enough letters in the alphabet and room on the Internet to do them justice.
-- my GIRLfriends: i don't understand women without women friends. i'm completely incapable of surviving without what i've affectionately termed 'my bitches.' they have been my life support system this year in a way i never imagined they could be. they have listened to my rants, wiped away my tears, smacked sense into me and have never once made me feel ridiculous for saying, thinking or doing any of the things i've said, thought or done. big BIG thank yous especially go to (in alphabetical order) demetria, kiana, raidis, sharon, zahra, zee.
-- juice: i've said it a million times before, and i'll say it once more: i love my dog.
those are the biggies of the year who really taught me the value and meaning of unconditional love. i don't mean to be redundant by again mentioning the things off last year's list, but most of those items i still count as blessings today: extended family, other friends (guys included), yoga, books, music, etc., and of course, my new boyfriend justin who showed me, among other things, the correct way to do a downward-facing dog pose and that there's good stuff to be had in the world of romantic relationships, a world i considered abandoning.
the other thing i'm truly thankful for might seem a little less obvious, but it's perhaps the most important thing of all: my self-esteem. after all, it's the one thing that's allowed me to feel worthy of embracing all these blessings, which could vanish tomorrow. and if they did, i would only have my self-esteem as a guide to know that i could and should keep going. it's my incombustible rock.
happy thanksgiving, everyone everywhere.
i did feel bad for what i saw, knowing that 50 years later not much has changed in south america, but those moments passed, the way moments do, and my sympathy amounted to nothing. i'll still go on my merry way, having to make those tough decisions about what type of new car to buy next year, while others elsewhere in places i don't have to see starve. i often forget this, probably intentionally, as i wade through the minor melodramas of my life. i wish i could be impacted enough to turn into a militant revolutionary fighting for others' causes instead of my own, just like che, but i'm not built that way, and that's the reality i must face. i'm just not that selfless.
but i don't feel guilty for what i have. in fact, watching this made me very, very thankful. it made my troubles seem teeny tiny, which is likely their actual size. and it made the good fortunes that have befallen me seem that much better. i try not to take what i have for granted, and i don't think i do. it's part of the way i was raised. i'm an immigrant, and that has made a huge impression on my mindscape.
so with this and the holiday season in mind, i began thinking of all the things i'm thankful for this thanksgiving. i began to count my blessings and saw that they weren't so different from the ones i enumerated in last year's December 1 entry. in short, i'm a lucky fucking duckie, and this knowledge will carry me through the many more trips i'll surely make to craplandia: that place -- whether real or imagined -- where everything just sucks. i've visited there many times this year, and a few key people/a dog have managed to pull me out every single time:
-- my amazing parents: they're the type of parents you'd ask santa to bring you for christmas when you were unhappy with your own. without their support, i might just live in craplandia. i can't say enough good things about them here, because there simply aren't enough letters in the alphabet and room on the Internet to do them justice.
-- my GIRLfriends: i don't understand women without women friends. i'm completely incapable of surviving without what i've affectionately termed 'my bitches.' they have been my life support system this year in a way i never imagined they could be. they have listened to my rants, wiped away my tears, smacked sense into me and have never once made me feel ridiculous for saying, thinking or doing any of the things i've said, thought or done. big BIG thank yous especially go to (in alphabetical order) demetria, kiana, raidis, sharon, zahra, zee.
-- juice: i've said it a million times before, and i'll say it once more: i love my dog.
those are the biggies of the year who really taught me the value and meaning of unconditional love. i don't mean to be redundant by again mentioning the things off last year's list, but most of those items i still count as blessings today: extended family, other friends (guys included), yoga, books, music, etc., and of course, my new boyfriend justin who showed me, among other things, the correct way to do a downward-facing dog pose and that there's good stuff to be had in the world of romantic relationships, a world i considered abandoning.
the other thing i'm truly thankful for might seem a little less obvious, but it's perhaps the most important thing of all: my self-esteem. after all, it's the one thing that's allowed me to feel worthy of embracing all these blessings, which could vanish tomorrow. and if they did, i would only have my self-esteem as a guide to know that i could and should keep going. it's my incombustible rock.
happy thanksgiving, everyone everywhere.
Labels: holidays
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Halloween 2004
what a blast this year. i attended the best costume party in the city, put on by my former employers, the dorks at CFQ, and their partners, the makeup effects house Almost Human. unfortunately, i didn't take many photos of the costumes i saw, but trust that they were spectacular. find some here. below are photos provided by zee and nick. thanks, guys.
beauty and the beast: i got mad props from many girls for my outfit. yes, you see it right -- it's a dismembered arm touching my breast. that's what happens when suckas get fresh with me. justin is dressed as...well, we never really figured it out. just some non-descript animal with one big ear.
sheer genius: Nick dressed as Tucker Carlson from CNN's Crossfire.
apparently, two men groped Zee: Zee, dressed as the character from Audition and bathed in spooky lighting, with her own set of dismembered arms.
did i mention the open bar? Raidis, as a sexy french maid, and i took advantage of the free libations, often double-fisting our drinks to avoid waiting in the crazy long line.
the hand that got around: that explains the disappearance of Justin's wallet!
the venerable head dork: my hero Dave dressed as Shaun of the Dead.
beauty and the beast: i got mad props from many girls for my outfit. yes, you see it right -- it's a dismembered arm touching my breast. that's what happens when suckas get fresh with me. justin is dressed as...well, we never really figured it out. just some non-descript animal with one big ear.
sheer genius: Nick dressed as Tucker Carlson from CNN's Crossfire.
apparently, two men groped Zee: Zee, dressed as the character from Audition and bathed in spooky lighting, with her own set of dismembered arms.
did i mention the open bar? Raidis, as a sexy french maid, and i took advantage of the free libations, often double-fisting our drinks to avoid waiting in the crazy long line.
the hand that got around: that explains the disappearance of Justin's wallet!
the venerable head dork: my hero Dave dressed as Shaun of the Dead.
Labels: holidays
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Happy Friggin New Year
while i could care little for xmas, i do enjoy the festivities that accompany the new year. after initially worrying that i had loser plans this year, i rounded up some friendly troops for an evening at club sugar in santa monica. i'm gonna try to look HOT tonight. i bought brand new everything for the occassion -- new dress, shoes, even matching jewelry. i'm also gonna get a wax and actually wash my hair. if anyone's still looking for something to do, i think the cover is a very reasonable $10.
in other news, my girl raidis spent the past couple days with me before leaving late last night. she just lives over the hill in my hometown of van nuys, but she needed to get away from her house and we needed some long overdue QT. so spent our time together eating, getting drunk, gossiping, shopping and watching 'sex and the city' DVDs. i really love that girl. she's my best friend whom i've known now for 15 years. here's a pix of her sexy ass on halloween:
RaidisHalloween.jpg
the day before that, i saw my other best friend -- the male version of raidis -- jon-david, whom i've known for 12 years. (unfortunately i don't have a photo of him as a domintrax.) i went to visit him at his mom's house in freezing antelope valley. it must have been 40 degrees. we also spent time eating, drinking, gossiping, etc. it was a lovely few days of back-to-back best friends.
up ahead are a few more scattered friend visits and entry into the alone zone, a place i relish but visit all too infrequently. i thought of making a foray into SF, but think that's unlikely now. so i'll ride out the rest of my vacay reading, sleeping and hopefully working on this god-forsaken website, if i can motivate my lazy ass. anyway, happy new year to you and all the rest of that jazz.
in other news, my girl raidis spent the past couple days with me before leaving late last night. she just lives over the hill in my hometown of van nuys, but she needed to get away from her house and we needed some long overdue QT. so spent our time together eating, getting drunk, gossiping, shopping and watching 'sex and the city' DVDs. i really love that girl. she's my best friend whom i've known now for 15 years. here's a pix of her sexy ass on halloween:
RaidisHalloween.jpg
the day before that, i saw my other best friend -- the male version of raidis -- jon-david, whom i've known for 12 years. (unfortunately i don't have a photo of him as a domintrax.) i went to visit him at his mom's house in freezing antelope valley. it must have been 40 degrees. we also spent time eating, drinking, gossiping, etc. it was a lovely few days of back-to-back best friends.
up ahead are a few more scattered friend visits and entry into the alone zone, a place i relish but visit all too infrequently. i thought of making a foray into SF, but think that's unlikely now. so i'll ride out the rest of my vacay reading, sleeping and hopefully working on this god-forsaken website, if i can motivate my lazy ass. anyway, happy new year to you and all the rest of that jazz.
Labels: holidays
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Merry Friggin Christmas
look at me, blogging daily now. seems there isn't much else to do. pablo left this morning for argentina for two weeks, leaving me without anyone to kiss come new year's. i'm sure juice will oblige, but how am i supposed to sneak her into a jumpin club for a midnight smooch?
anyhow, i've gone and done something uber-girlie to pass the time, at least for the first few days of solitude -- i've rented a bunch of DVDs of old 'sex and the city' episodes and plan to curl up on the couch wearing warm socks while eating bon bons. well, more like atkins bars. (still on low-carb.) i'm just gonna veg, no deadlines hanging over me, no interviews to schedule. just lazy dayz ahead.
and yes, merry f-ing xmas. while i do like the season, i don't really care for the actual day and its eve for obvious reasons (i'm jewish). when i was younger, i remember my christian classmates being in disbelief that i didn't celebrate the day, that is was somehow impossible not to. "but, at least your family has a special dinner that night, right?" they would ask. "no, we don't acknowledge it at all," i would answer. "but it's christmas!" they would say, as if saying it that way suddenly changed everything. "umm, nope. we don't do anything," i would insist. "well, then santa must not like jews!" guess not. but that's okay, cus i never gave a shit for that fat bastard either.
i'm still looking for something to do on new year's eve. virtually everyone i know will be out of town or otherwise occupied. if you'll be in hell-lay and have ideas, please e-mail me pronto.
anyhow, i've gone and done something uber-girlie to pass the time, at least for the first few days of solitude -- i've rented a bunch of DVDs of old 'sex and the city' episodes and plan to curl up on the couch wearing warm socks while eating bon bons. well, more like atkins bars. (still on low-carb.) i'm just gonna veg, no deadlines hanging over me, no interviews to schedule. just lazy dayz ahead.
and yes, merry f-ing xmas. while i do like the season, i don't really care for the actual day and its eve for obvious reasons (i'm jewish). when i was younger, i remember my christian classmates being in disbelief that i didn't celebrate the day, that is was somehow impossible not to. "but, at least your family has a special dinner that night, right?" they would ask. "no, we don't acknowledge it at all," i would answer. "but it's christmas!" they would say, as if saying it that way suddenly changed everything. "umm, nope. we don't do anything," i would insist. "well, then santa must not like jews!" guess not. but that's okay, cus i never gave a shit for that fat bastard either.
i'm still looking for something to do on new year's eve. virtually everyone i know will be out of town or otherwise occupied. if you'll be in hell-lay and have ideas, please e-mail me pronto.
Labels: holidays
