crazy talk

heaven

2006-05-05T16:44:00.000-04:00

When my friend Doug's dad died, I thought "maybe his dad and my dad can hang out in the . . . wherever dead people are."

Last week I had to have my cat put to sleep. I'm wondering if she's going to get to know the cats we had growing up and I'm wondering if she'll stop being such a scaredy cat.

It isn't that I believe in an afterlife, but it would be so nice if the dads and the cats could all hang out together - they had such painful ends.

No News is Good News

2006-03-30T10:01:00.000-05:00

Oof.

Today is one of those days when looking at the news just plain frightens me.

My first click at www.nytimes.com was on a story about how fashion designers want to make it illegal for people to copy their designs and sell them for less. Is this because Calvin Klein and Diane Von Furstenburg are having trouble making ends meet? Somehow I don't think so. It seems selfish and unfair to want to keep style and fashion only for the rich. Then again, as they continue to get richer while the rest of us get poorer, fashion isn't likely to be the only thing reserved for them. I just hope I don't live to see the day that only the rich get dentists and doctors - it's heading there now, but hopefully not at too great a speed.

My second click was on a story about how brains in highly intelligent children develop differently than the brains of their average-intelligence counterparts. I had the frightening brave-new-world-esque thought of parents paying to have their kids brain-growth scientifically altered in an attempt to have the smartest kid on the block (1600?! feh! MY kid got 3200 on her SAT's!). Quickly, an even more horrible thought came: the opportunity for the government and educators to give up on kids who aren't doing so well in school as a lost-cause. "Those inner-city public school kids won't benefit from that funding anyway, let's give it to those super-smart kids." Yikes.

Rouding it out we've got "Doubt Cast on a Stockpile of a Vaccine for Bird Flu," 'As Life Returns to New Orleans So Does Crime," and "The Batchelor Pad Still Lives."

Oof.

tidbits

2006-01-27T09:00:00.000-05:00

It's been so long since I've posted anything . . . today, to get the ball rolling again, I have two small items.

First item
Here is the quote of the day, straight from my boyfriend's lips to this blog: "At least I get an A for effort . . . from myself."

Second item
I love Oprah! More specifically, I love that Oprah had a whole show about James Frey and how he made things up in his book. I haven't read the book. I don't care about it at all, actually. What I do care about is that Oprah didn't need to stick to her original show or even the call she made to the Larry King show in support of Frey. I love that she's willing to change, clarify, refine her position and that she doesn't see it and isn't allowing it to be positioned as any kind of losing face.

Bonus third item
Ironic: when I just spell-checked the above, spell-checker tried to correct my use of the word "blog," suggesting "bloc." Talk about lack of self-awareness . . .

It's Electric!

2005-11-11T10:35:00.000-05:00

Okay. So here's the sad fact: the tourists are coming.

It happens every year. November comes and so come the non-residents to shop and eat and see Christmas spectacular and the like.

As a New Yorker, both living and working in Midtown (where the tourists are most dense) this time of year always leaves me feeling as though strangers have set up camp in my back yard, traipsing through my flowerbeds and tracking in dirt when they need to use the toilet or the phone. It's disquieting.

So here's my big idea. The best idea to come along since the personal sherpa several blog entries ago: The Tourist Zone.

Here's how it works:
Tourists, upon entering, are fitted with a wrist band. Tourists are permitted to travel between 34th and 57th Streets North and South and between Third and Ninth Avenues East and West. If they leave the zone, their wrist band will shock them. Zap!

Honestly, they don't need more room than that, most of what they want to see is in that area, and confining them would give the rest of us - who LIVE here - places to go to get away from them. Also, this would just be from Nov. 1 through January 1 which means that touristy areas NOT in the tourist zone - SoHo, the Met, Whitney and Guggenheim Museums could all thrive those other 10 months of the year. This would ALSO mean that, during those holiday months, New Yorkers would fillt he cultural institutions because we'd know it was SAFE. And that would be very cozy and community-building for us.

I think Bloomberg would like it.

Weekend Adventures

2005-10-30T18:53:00.000-05:00

One.

On Saturday, I was shopping in a hardware store on Ninth Ave. for elements of my Halloween costume - Danger Girl. I was buying "Danger" and "Beware of Dog" signs to stick to me and I was looking for some of that yellow Caution tape to use as some kind of sash or something. The nice hardware store guy went all around the store looking for me and finally he came back and said, "we only have this 'Danger' tape is that okay?"
"THAT'S EVEN BETTER!!!" I screamed.
"So you're in theater, huh?" he asked.
I was so caught.

Two.

Today I was having brunch outside with my boyfriend and friend of mine from college. We were having a great time. Eggs. Beautiful day. Great people. What could be better? An old woman came walking along and stopped and leaned in from outside the sidewalk-dining partition and, we all later agreed, for a split second we were all affraid of what would happen. Would she say something crazy? Would she ask for money? Would she spit on our food? And she looked at me and smiled and said "someone's happy."
I said, "That's me." And she was gone.
Thing is: she was right. And I like to think that the whole world CAN see how happy I am even though that's probably an overly romantic take on it. :)

internet writer

2005-10-24T13:56:00.000-04:00

Hey.

Check me out at:
www.reallysmalltalk.com

woo!

out for a drink

2005-10-18T14:10:00.000-04:00

last night my brother came into the city to have dinner with me - he's home from college for october break - and after dinner we met up with my boyfriend for a drink at the irish pub type place near his apartment.

since i'd started with red wine at dinner, i thought it made sense to stick with that. however, the bar was one of those places where you're probably better off with a beer.

so i asked the waitress.

me: which of the red wines do you reccomend?
waitress: well i don't really know, i don't drink them.
me: well, which one do people make happy faces about?
waitress: well, it's alcohol so usually they just drink it.

gotcha.
i'll have the merlot.

another mean pedestrian

2005-10-17T11:34:00.000-04:00

AHHHH!!!

So the other night - Friday night, I think - my boyfriend and I went to the video store to rent a movie. We were going to watch the movie at my house which meant we had to get something on VHS since the only DVD player is in my little laptop and the sound isn't very good.

We go to the video store and we can't find anything. So we ask about the Hitchhiker's guide movie - they don't have it AT ALL in VHS!! Then i remember a great old Doris Day movie, we look up the title in that big reference book they have and I ask about that - THEY DON'T HAVE IT! We finally settle on North by Northwest and get out of there.

We're walking up the avenue to my apt. and I'm telling my boyfriend how unimpressed I was with the video store lady. I'd never seen her before and the reguar lady is MUCH more helpful. He is completely agreeing.

Then, out of nowhere, this older guy pedestrian - like late 50's early 60's, vaguely ratty looking, beard, grey hair - walks past us in the other direction and he's saying "Whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine . . ."

I turned around, stopped in my tracks, and was literally mouth-open agog at this man's rudeness. First, I wasn't whining. Second, you don't just DO that! that's SO RUDE!!

I'm still annoyed that my ninja reflexes didn't allow me to swivel and give him a sharp kick in the arse. Gah! Ninja reflexes why do you fail me?!?!?

just so you know

2005-10-12T16:54:00.000-04:00

hard: writing a radio play
harder: writing a radio play that makes sense as a mystery
hardest: writing a radio play that makes sense as a mystery and that will keep twenty nine year olds entertained for a morning. that means having enough acting parts for half of them and enough sound effects parts for the other half. and don't think that you can just write a part and that some nine year old will do it. oh no! that nine year old is gonna filp through that script the minute you give it to him and he's gonna count the lines that, for his convenience, you so thoughtfuly highlighted in advance. and if he doesn't have a lot of lines he's gonna complain, and loudly. he will never thank you for your pre-highlighting. he will never pronounce the words "mezmerizing" or "conscience" correctly. but after you've satisfied the unsatisfyable and ungrateful nine year olds you have to pick out music that will suit the mood of the radio play. you have to edit that music - loop it, perhaps - and burn a cd. and you have to make a filemaker document of all of the parts and sound effects so that you can print every part onto a separate avery label so that you can affix the labels to the kids according to the parts they are assigned. and when those kids are all covered in sound effects, they're probably gonna look really cute. and that's important, because it's going to be a key factor in your keeping your cool and maintaining perpetual patience. and then you have to make a prompt book so that the sound effects director can direct, control and contain the sound effects kids because if you don't do that, they will become wild children and piggy's head will end up on a stake right by the elevators which isn't likely to garner particularly positive feedback from the parents at the end of the workshop.

home

2005-10-11T10:09:00.000-04:00

i went home last night to visit my mom who lives in New Jersey - an easy ride on the commuter bus from the scenic port authority bus terminal in mid-town.

as usual, there were goldfish crackers (a special mom's house treat), excitable dogs, a delicious meal and lots to drink. last night it was wine.

what was different was even better.

i was telling my mom that i'm having an appointment today to meet with a photographer about taking new headshots. and my mom looked at me and said "wear that!" "That" was jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt over a long sleeved t-shirt. It's my favorite hang-around ensemble for fall. What felt so good was the sense that my mom was seeing me for who I am. And liking me. And trusting me to be myself in a way that, a few years ago, I think she would have fussed more and counseled me to wear more makeup or do something different with my hair or . . . I don't know. But she didn't do any of those things and it was awesome.

It was such a treat to have such a good visit with my mom. I like it when she and I can get along.

iced mochacino

2005-10-07T15:54:00.000-04:00

3:30 at the coffee place up the block today was a DRAMATIC time.

long, unorganized lines,
a new guy who didn't really know what to do,
and a disproportionate number of cappucino and espresso orders all at once.

it was the wrong day to order an iced mochacino.

that poor new guy was freakin' out.
the manager (with unfortunate partially-bleached hair) had to come out and help.
i was asked to repeat my order three times.

i waited patiently, eschewing the heavy sighs of impatient customers for hands folded and a placid semi-glazed over stare.

then:

the placid, wise casheer who'd taken my order turned to me and the man standing next to me waiting for two skim cappucinos and asked "would you like a cookie while you're waiting?" YES! As simple as a lollypop after a visit to the dentist or a piece of bologna from the deli guy while he slices cold cuts for your mother - we are as easy to placate as the average seven year-old.

I think it's sort of nice when simple, small things are enough; when the meaning of a gesture comes through.

actually crazy

2005-10-06T18:25:00.000-04:00

i seem to be. actually crazy, that is.

the craziest has been the conversation that's been going on in my head these past few days:

how does one reconcile imperfection with happiness?
how can i wish for more in my life without thinking my life is crummy?
how can i not like everything about myself without hating myself?

i don't know.
What I do know is that the awesome spiral of self flagelation I'm in sure does make me feel bad and I'm not sure it makes anything better.

i just don't know.

sounds like

2005-09-23T10:07:00.000-04:00

lawyer sounds like liar

trader sounds like traitor

pirates does not sound like pilates

i just point these things out . . .

March of the Penguins

2005-09-15T15:50:00.000-04:00

It should totally be called "Schlep of the Penguins" or maybe "Repetitive Schlep of the Penguins."

Creeeeepy

2005-09-15T15:44:00.000-04:00

The bathroom on our floor at the office is single-serving - only one person can use it at the time. So the main door gets locked and then you're in there by yourself.

The HR lady here will come and try the door
CLANK
and she can't get in because it's locked
because someone (like me) is in there.
then, whoever it is (me, say) comes out a minute or two later and the HR lady pops out from behind the office partition wall that creates the little kitchen area. She just sort of hovers there - hiding by the refrigerator and coffee maker until the door opens - and then pops out.

And I think that's really creepy.

When I try the bathroom door (which i do VERY gently so as not to freak the bathroom user out, if there is one) and it's locked, I go back to my desk and wait. The office is small enough that you can hear when someone opens and closes that door, even if you can't see.

but she insists on bathroom surveillance.

I hate it.

open letter to NYC pedestrians

2005-09-15T15:42:00.000-04:00

Dear NYC pedestrians,

GET OUT OF MY WAY ALREADY!!!

WHAT, ARE YOU ALL FROM NEW JERSEY! OR THE MIDWEST?!?! OR SOMEPLACE WHERE PEOPLE GROW UP NEVER LEARNING HOW TO WALK!?!?!?

GEEEZE!

Ee

open letter to that blue shirt pedestrian on 5th this morning

2005-09-13T14:37:00.000-04:00

dear aqua-blue-shirt lady walking down fifth avenue this morning who felt the need to comment as she crossed 33rd street and passed me and my boyfriend,

i thought that your comment was not only unnecessary and unhelpful, but actually damaging.

my boyfriend and i were doing nothing innapropriate or harmful by kissing while we waited for the light to change so that we could cross the street. there was no groping. no body parts revealed. we did not hamper the flow of traffic. we kissed a little and then we crossed the street.

what did you hope to accomplish, i wonder, by admonishing us to "get a room?"

certainly, no room was required for our activity - we neither needed privacy oursaelves nor owed the public a shield from our behaviour.

were you hoping to let us know that you disapproved of our public display of affection? how is that any of your buisness?

perhaps it made you uncomfortable to see us together? but, there are lots of things that we see day-to-day that make us uncomfortable (the homeless, clothes worn in bad taste, giant costumed characters). Further, your personal discomfort (or mine. or anyone else's) at seeing any of these things neither indicates nor requires that those things be hidden away. It is MY problem that costume characters freak me out - no one would suppose that because they give me the willies, that costume characters should be forever banned from public life. The same is true of public kissing which is at worst, harmless, and at best a sweet reminder of what a lovely and special thing it is when two people really care about one another. Why hide signs of the nice things in the world?

blue shirt lady, i believe that your comment was mean-spirited and i wish you hadn't made it. by being small yourself, and by allowing your smallness to be made manifest through your actions, you are helping to make the world a smaller and more hateful place. that's something that deserves to be hidden away. get a room for your crummy attitude.

ee

Best Friend MIA

2005-08-25T10:01:00.000-04:00

Last night, I rode the E train to West 4th and then the F train to 2nd Ave where I exited from the front of the train onto Housten/Allen St.

As I was leaving the F train, I noticed a man.

He was reading the same issue of the New Yorker that I was reading.
He had iPod white headphones in his ears - which I didn't, but only because I left my iPod at home.
But best of all - the thing that let me know that this man and I were DESTINED to be BEST FRIENDS - was that, as he turned and walked up the stairs in front of me, I saw that on the back of his jean jacket was embroidered one word. "UGH"

"This man speaks my language," I thought.

I slowed my pace. I figured I'd follow him.
But then, he went down Allen St. while I needed to continue East on Houston. And I lost him.

*sigh*

or, rather, UGH.

delicious beverage

2005-08-23T14:19:00.000-04:00

i'll tell you what's crazy!
(since i haven't told you much in a while)

today at lunch time
i rode the elevator downstairs
and i walked to fifth avenue
and i crossed fifth avenue
and i walked down one block to 51st street
and i turned left towards madison
and went to the prime burger
and i got myself an egg cream
and i brought it back to work
and i drank it with the other half of the sliced egg sandwich i brought for lunch.
and it was remarkably delicious.

then
i calculated the calories for all of the food i've so-far eaten today at www.fitday.com
and the egg cream accounts for almost HALF of all of the calories in one day.
one lunch-time beverage = HALF of my calories!
GAH!

it was worth it, though.
i really needed that egg cream.

3pl Ex

2005-06-22T10:09:00.000-04:00

What happened: I was in a play. Three men I had dated but was no longer dating came to see the show on the same night. I found myself at a bar with D., C., and G., and best friend A. It was awkward.

Last night, I was out for dinner with the ex D. He and I were recalling the terrible awkwarness and we had this epiphany: The Ex's should form a band! And the band will be called Thripple Ex (3pl Ex). D. will play the banjo and sing. C. will play the keyboard and accordion. G. will play the drums. And he'll have a star painted over one of his eye like Gene Simmons from Kiss except, since G. is Jewish, his will be a star of david.

Thripple Ex ROCKS!

love bandits

2005-06-21T16:18:00.000-04:00

there are these bandits. love bandits. bandits d'amour.
they work in two's.
they take love from other people and then lavish it on one another - leftovers from expensive dinners, gifts, vacation photos and souvenirs.
The bandits appropriate the sweet nothings of their unwitting victims and whisper them, in turn, to the objects of their affection.
They re-post love notes sent originally to them by earnest admirers.
They appropriate the very caresses applied to them in order to court and adore each other.
They are gypsies on the emotional landscape and only have to fear that their lover is robbing them as they are robbing another, instead of sharing the full spoils of their thievery.

eventful weekend

2005-06-08T11:49:00.000-04:00

evidence:

- several long scratches on my right upper-arm, received when the horse I was riding decided to run me through a tree.

- clementine-sized bruise on the inside of my right knee, created when trying not to fall off of a galloping horse. medium purple.

- matching but almost-invisible bruise on inside left knee.

- scratches and general soreness on my lower front shins from stirrups.

- adjacent bruises, small and medium, on tip of right elbow and near-elbow fore-arm, respectively. received when falling down steps on account of a) new slippery high-heeled shoes, b) medium-drunken-ness. reddish.

- blazing huge bruise on my left ass-cheek. six inches wide. two and a half inches tall. originally pale purple. then black. now plum-red with yellow around the edges. increasingly resembling a butterfly. received in fall down stairs described above. AWESOME.

sherpa

2005-06-01T22:35:00.000-04:00

The problem: bad posture.

A significant cause: the pedestrian lifestyle lived by most New Yorkers, which forces us to physically heft all of our belongings for the day everywhere with us - keys, phones, heavy hard-covered books to help us look smart when we're reading on the subway platform just in case mr. right happens to also be taking the C train up town for therapy today after work, gym clothes, various grooming accoutrements so that while we're reading that impressive book we'll be able to sport a healthy post-workout glow without any of the unattractive trappings of having just been to the gym such as body odor, dry post-shower skin or fly-away hair. We are literally bent beneath the weight of our daily "necessities" and if anything's going to make mr. right turn around and strike up a conversation with the sara vowel three-off reading The Little Prince for the fourteenth time who's standing near the subway map instead of focusing his twinkly eyes on your lovely self, it's poor posture.

The solution: Seven year olds. We carry a lot, but not more than the average second or third grader can manage. They enjoy foods that are cheap - chocolate, chips, fast food - and they like to please. They schlep our stuff around. We pay them better than Nike & Kathie Lee combined. Mr. right becomes completely captivated by how unencumbered and straight-spined you are. Everyone's happy.

guys guys gu-

2005-05-13T09:39:00.000-04:00

this morning before i woke up i had a dream featuring a scruffy-faced young tom hanks - it was post "bosom buddies" but pre "big" - in a movie with scruffy-faced jim belushi and dan akroyd and other funny-type guys who were around then. it was an animal house/revenge of the neards type picture. the part that i dreamed is where tom hanks is on his knees in his blue and black checked bathrobe and he's kinda freaking out and he's trying to get the attention of his friends to tell them something. and he's saying "guys guys gu-" over and over "guys guys gu-, guys guys gu-, guys guys gu-"

it was pretty funny in my dream and now i can't stop saying it.

guys guys gu-

overheard

2005-05-13T09:37:00.000-04:00

this morning i was absent-mindedly listening to npr.

they were talking about Iraqui jihadi's . . . like people who were waging or in favor of jihad . . . ? i'd never heard the word used that way.

no matter.

what I heard was a story about Iraqui J-Hotties.

duh.

something i bet you didn't know

2005-05-03T10:06:00.000-04:00

imagine that you're underground at the times square/42st subway stop.
can you picture how the A/C/E trains are set off aways from the rest - the 7, 1/9, N/R?
now, can you imagine that long tunnel/corridor that you walk through to get across town underground from the A/C/E to those other trains? this is the corridor with those signs hidden up in the metal rafters that say things like "overslept," "so tired," "why bother" with a picture of a rumpled bed at the end of the sequence.
okay. so imagine that corridor.
the lights in that corridor, in conjunction with the aforementioned metal rafters, cast a pattern on the white tiled walls that makes them look like argyle.
and this is the sort of thing that's hard to notice when the corridor is filled with people, but when it's empty or near-empty . . . argyle lighting all the way through.

co-worker

2005-04-29T10:52:00.000-04:00

the h.r. lady at my office stopped by my cube to ask if i'd ever heard of "menopause: the musical." i had although i hadn't heard anything about it, and i told her as much. for no reason that i can retrospectively discern, she started telling me about how, although it was highly acclaimed, she didn't like the vagina monologues. she went on to explain that while there were "funny parts" there were also sad parts and when she went to the theater she didn't want to hear about rape. she likened this to her experience vacationing in mexico when seeing children begging on the street ruined her day.

i didn't say anything.

but this is america. these are the people funding musicals like "good vibrations" at $80 a seat and more, while new plays are hardly produced and, when they are, it's in tiny out-of-the way theaters where everyone works for free. these are the people who prefer a president with a strong point of view regardless of what that point of view might be to a leader who wants to think about the world in complex and nuanced ways and with whose opinions they might agree. these are the people who would rather be entertained than think. these are the people who are helping to shape this country into a place that me and my friends like less and less. these are the people who comprise the america that foreigners hate.

quote of the day

2005-04-28T15:08:00.000-04:00

This from a recent e-mail from a friend.

"I am thinking that I am going to take a sex vacation. Not a going to Thailand to fool around with 14 year olds kind of sex vacation but a no more sex for me until I feel up to it sort of sex vacation."

I suport this friend's choice . . . but I think that other kind of vacation sounds like a pretty good plan too!

hic

2005-04-28T09:24:00.000-04:00

last night, walking home after dinner with friends, i was chatting with another friend on the phone and i developed a mean case of the hiccups. the phone friend - who was remarkably tollerant of my spazims - described these hiccups as "deep" and "resonant." they were, in fact, killer hiccups.

by the time i was close to home, the hiccups had nearly driven me up a wall, so i veered into my corner deli to see if there wasn't some cookie or milk beverage or something that i thought would quell them. so i walk into the deli and my deli guy asks how i'm doing. "I've got hiccups!!!" I tell him. i look away for a moment, casting about for some inspiring foodstuff and the next thing i know he's giving me a plastic spoon of sugar to swallow. so i swallow it. INSTANTLY the hiccups are gone.

deli guy saved my life. didn't even charge me. love that.

signage

2005-04-25T18:38:00.000-04:00

Not far from where I live, a hand-written sign in the window of a deli bears this inscription: "ice-cold water."

That's just ice.

free X 3

2005-04-09T20:56:00.000-04:00

1. i went to the verizon store to a) get my new phone activated, b) get the info on my old phone transfered into my new phone. i was told that b would cost me $10.83. But then, when it was all done, the lady didn't charge me at all.
2. i had a jamba juice coupon for a free small juice or smoothie so i decided to use it. when i got to the front of the line, the lady told me my coupon had expired. but then she said "that's all right," and when my drink came out it was not only free but it was GIANT.
3. after a photo taking jaunt, my friend ken and i went for coffee and a snack and ken picked up the bill, which was really nice.

not spending money in a city like new york is a rare treat and very relaxing.

sweet caroline

2005-04-08T10:21:00.000-04:00

i was waiting for my egg sandwich to be cooked this morning at the place where i get breakfast.
sweet caroline was playing and i was working hard not to let loose and sing along.
then i noticed that the man to my right - a middle-aged guy - was singing along quietly.
this was pleasing enough.
better was when another man came along and stood to my left and also sang along under his breath.
it was a moment that almost made that moment in musicals in which characters suddenly burst into song seem plausible.

secret identity

2005-04-07T22:12:00.000-04:00

this evening, i went to the video store and rented a dvd.
i brought it home, took out my contacts, put on my glasses, and settled in to watch the movie on my computer.
but about ten minutes in, the dvd got stuck and wouldn't play no matter what i tried.
so, about an hour later, i went back to the video store.
"i'm back," i said.
the guy looked at me quizically.
i removed my glasses. "see?"
"Ahh. gotcha," he said, his face relaxing into recognition.
so, apparently, that glasses-as-disguise thing really works!

spring

2005-04-05T14:33:00.000-04:00

at lunch today, i went outside to read my book in the sunshine for a while.

i was sitting along a flower-bed, leaning against a building and between the building (at my back) and the flowerbed (extending to my side) there were sparrows ruffling about in the dirt. They were chubby and cute and when they cheeped it was the same kind of sound that little baby puppies and kittens make.

when i reached up to push my hair back, i could feel that it had gotten all warm from the sun shining down on it. that is one of my favorite feelings.

what's in a name?

2005-03-30T10:46:00.000-05:00

I keep confusing Warren Buffet
http://www.investopedia.com/terms/w/warrenbuffet.asp

and Jimmy Buffet
http://www.margaritaville.com/

I think it would be best if they were somehow the SAME person.
Geneticists: Get to work!

He is risen

2005-03-27T10:25:00.000-05:00

Happy Easter.

I ate not one but two(!) hot-cross-buns for breakfast, but that's the beginning and end of my Easter celebration.

This is a year during which I have become increasingly irritated with, even angered by, Christanity.

I was raised in the Presbyterian church, was confirmed, I even taught Sunday school . . .

But the Church, as far as I know it, is a huge let down. It wants money. It wants to make rules that are more about excluding people than about loving one another. It wants to be right all the time.

So this year, I'm trying to think of Jesus as just a really great guy - like Martin Luther King, Jr. - who did a lot of great stuff and had an incredible capacity to love his fellow humans and made a huge impact on our world . . . because it isn't his fault what the Church has become.

Ninja training

2005-03-27T10:23:00.000-05:00

I'm just saying:
If they train crazy-great-warriors by making them fight blindfolded,
then somewhere, someone should get trained without a sense of smell.
Maybe without a sense of taste.
I think it would be funny.
ahem.
I mean . . . effective in honing their ninja skills . . .

the song i'm listening to over and over and over . . .

2005-03-19T23:03:00.000-05:00

I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us
I hope we come out with a fail-safe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended fall down beneath their own weight
and I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
and I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down
and I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
and I never come back to this town again
In my life I hope I lie and tell everyone you were a good wife
and I hope you die
I hope we both die

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
and I hope you blink before I do
and I hope I never get sober
and I hope when you think of me years down the line you can't find one good thing to say
and I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowing
there is no sign of land
you are coming down with me - hand in unlovable hand
and I hope you die
I hope we both die

THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

ups and downs

2005-03-07T21:30:00.000-05:00

i woke up this morning filled with stress and anxiety. a letter i needed to write and mail out to a number of people before heading off to my internship wasn't written. it didn't get written before i left.
i went to intern knowing that i had a day of drudgery if not total frustration ahead of me.
i felt the bad day coming on, and i figured the best i could do was roll with it and hope for the best.

things started looking up when i went out for lunch around 2:00.
today was a beautiful, warm, hint-of spring day and i walked a little farther and calmed down and felt better.
then i went back inside and discovered that my silly want ad got published on reallysmalltalk, which is entertaining.
and then the lady about the PBS thing called and I seem to be IN! which is fun.
and then the director friend called and offered me a part in a staged reading which is great news since, as an actor, i always think i'll never work again.

so the day was looking really good.

and then i went on the blind date.

fortunately, he wasn't offensive or unplesant.
unfortunately he was the most vanilla human being i've ever met.
fortunately, i got the perfunctory kiss on the cheek and jetting off in the other direction.
so i think he and i saw eye to eye on how the date went.

what a day.

babysitting

2005-03-05T10:37:00.000-05:00

Last night's babysitting activities:
- playing with the doll house
- throwing the giant ball up in the air and catching it and saying "got it!"
- playing with the car park/car wash and washing all of the "muck" off of the cars
- "flying" both on the arm of the chair and on my feet up in the air
- spinning around on the floor on our bottoms
- immitating animals, the first letters of which make up the alphabet (my favorite: octopus)
- doing the hokey pokey (i had not recalled putting my shoulders or hips in or out previously)
- "fishing" for the shark i drew on the magna-doodle
- a sun salutation
- reading a book
- picking out music to fall asleep to
- saying good night

gratitude

2005-03-03T12:37:00.000-05:00

I live in New York - a hard city.
I'm an actor - a difficult profession.
Lots of icky things happen to and around me on a regular basis.

Yet

I feel so grateful most of the time. So lucky. So blessed.
Like last week, I had the worst day ever, but at the very end, I found myself in the mixing pit at the Bowery Ballroom watching an amazing show. And I thought "am I really here? Is this MY life? How did this happen?" Or, yesterday, I had another tough day, but then I had this long and affirming and deeply enjoyable phone conversation with my friend Mike and I hung up and I thought "If I were religious, I would have to fall down and thank God for people like Mike in my life."

Every so often, I wonder if I'm too easily pleased and, Mike's awesomeness aside, if I shouldn't raise my standards . . . expect more.

I don't know . . . this seems to be working for the moment . . .

hard day

2005-03-02T16:44:00.000-05:00

Today I want to:

Hit my head against the wall
Kick through some plate glass
Vomit all over myself
Cry uncontrollably
Go to bed

also on death and dying

2005-03-01T22:20:00.000-05:00

i miss my dad
and i think about him
every day
all the time
and i don't know how to talk about him
so sometimes
maybe even often
the subject comes up awkwardly
but somewhere
and so, for a start, here
it ought to be said
that he is loved
and missed
by me

on death and dying

2005-03-01T22:13:00.000-05:00

Today, I had occasion to look up the five stages of dying.

I came across some words of Kubler-Ross's which, roughly paraphrased, were: know that everything has its purpose.

So I've been thinking about the puzzle pieces:
The mom. The dad. The brother. The grandmother.
The education.
The boys.
The good friends.
The not-so-good friends.
The job.
The apartment.
The cat.
The secrets.

What seems clear to me is that, yes, everything has its purpose, and that we can never know what that purpose truly is. To guess at the purpose of something seems as naive and facile as a child, watching television, who believes that the actors are small people in that particular box. It isn't our fault that we're infants, but it doesn't help us, either, to cling to wrong ideas and ways of thinking.

blemish

2005-03-01T09:52:00.000-05:00

what i say to myself: it's just a pimple. it will go away. everyone gets pimples. people understand. no one is judging you for this. it isn't your fault. it's just a pimple . . .

what the boy says to me: WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HEAD!?!?!?

gah.

Valentine's Day

2005-02-14T10:36:00.000-05:00

Today is such a good day that it should be my birthday & not valentine's day.

Today I got up early and showered and went to meet a guy for breakfast who I met at a radio conference. Even though the only other times I'd talked to him were at the conference and on the phone, we had a great visit made all the more great by the complete lack of any sexual or romantic over- or undertones.

Now I'm at work, but only for half the day.

In just two short hours, I'll go to the theater where the play I'm in will be performed and spend the afternoon with a bunch of people I adore.

After our tech. rehearsal, I'll be free for the rest of the evening and I might even get to see my awesome drummer friend for a drink.

I'm feeling so lucky to be spending the day with lovely people who I really like, doing a variety of activities that I deeply enjoy.

Maybe I should be single every Valentine's day . . .

dead bug

2005-02-03T22:41:00.000-05:00

I cleaned the hair out of the hair catching thing in my shower drain earlier this evening.

You know how there's, like, a trail of hairs stretching down into the drain but attached to the hair catcher thing that gets pulled up with the hair catcher thing?

There was some kind of bug - a spider I think . . . a red legged spider - caught in that dangley hair part.

It was dead.

But still.

Eeiw gross, right?

friendster

2005-02-03T22:35:00.000-05:00

Has anyone else noticed that there are a lot of single young women on friendster who are in malysia and the phillipines?

I'm having this idea - go ahead and call it a "fantasy" if you must - that they're all oppressed mail-order brides. I imagine that friendster has become this perfect place for the mail-order-bride . . . people . . . to set up shop undetected. I don't think that friendster is probably at fault, but unbeknownst to almost everyone, a sinister world of prostution and slavery exists beneath friendster's smiley surface.

And in, like, a year or eighteen months some reporter is going to break the story. We'll all be horrified. Parents will pull kids off of friendster like it's some kind of dungeons and dragons manual.

You heard it here first.

you know who you are

2005-02-01T16:24:00.000-05:00

sweet b
missing u

middle school

2005-01-21T09:53:00.000-05:00

The day before yesterday, I taught a bunch of 7th & 8th graders here at the Museum. They were a nice bunch.
I was herding them onto the elevators to go downstairs and leave the building at the end of their visit and, while we were waiting for one to come, I overheard a girl ask a boy "do you have a girlfriend?" My attention was taken away for a moment and when it returned, the girl was saying "well, can we just be friends then?" and the boy was avoiding eye contact and saying "ummmmmm." The tension was palpable. I could taste the tragedy creeping up the back of my throat. Then she said "I don't care if you have a girlfriend . . ."
Then the elevator came.
Phew.

Hands

2005-01-18T10:32:00.000-05:00

Last night I went to a party.
My friend who was hosting the party was describing how you throw the rock in curling, and he did this thing with his hand - the way he sort of pantomimed it - that was just like the way my grandfather used sometimes to describe things with his hands. And then he did it again and I started to cry. Right there. No one saw, but I was suddenly very sad. And then my friend stopped with his hands and I could feel better. And drink more wine. :)

Sometimes people say really stupid things

2005-01-14T13:52:00.000-05:00

I'm an actor.
I have a day job.
I go to my job all day and then I spend as much free time as I can manage trying to get a job or rehearsing a play or whatever else I might do to make acting full time and day job no time.
There's a woman in my office - she works in finance but because we don't have a human resources department she's the unofficial HER person as well - and she just doesn't get it. What's worse, she's judgmental and derisive.
Today, as we rode the elevator together, she asked if I had any new roles. I said (truthfully) that I'm in two plays. And she wrinkled her nose and said something like "plays? Well there's no money in plays, is there?" I said, "give me a break. You have to be in something so the people who want to pay you to act can come and see you! There might be money in background work, but that's not acting and you still don't get any attention." So she backed off of that and instead said, "well, isn't that hard? Working all day here and doing that in addition?" And I said, "pretty much everything worth doing is hard! Founding America? Civil rights? Those weren't easy!"
I can't help but be amazed that she has no concept of what it is to love something and want to do it more than anything else. She's a middle-aged spinster who lives with her mother. Surely she MUST want something else?

Commuting

2005-01-13T11:58:00.000-05:00

Instead of taking the bus from my family's NJ home back into NYC today, my younger broter drove me.
We had a dance party in his car the entire way.
It was awesome.
I think it's pretty safe to say, that we were the only car rockin' out so fully.
Car Dance Party is the best way to start the day ever!

Dream

2005-01-13T10:01:00.000-05:00

Last night I had a dream that my friend Loring and I were on a train - the A train. We were headed somewhere - maybe to an audition since we are both actors. Loring lives in San Francisco now, so it was nice to see her. Anyway, on the train we met a boy . . . maybe two boys by the end, it's fuzzy . . . and he was cute, but he spent the entire time talking about himself. In the dream, I thought "he won't stop talking about himself! I mean, it isn't that I want to talk about me, but he's just showing such poor form!"

Boys. Pft.

Christmas Sound Byte

2005-01-02T21:08:00.000-05:00

After Christmas dinner, on the sofa in the living room:

Grandma: Why do you have to go to the gym?
Me: So I don't get fat.
Grandma: Is it working?
Me: Are you saying I'm fat?!

Black on the outside because . . .

2004-12-14T10:52:00.000-05:00

Today I am imagining darker things.

I have already imagined my mouth full of dead kitten.

There is the thought of my fat cells multiplying like rabbits so that within hours I am literally suffocated by rolls and rolls of flesh and fat - a terrible un-sexy version of the hulk, bursting from my clothes.

I imagine that people look at me and can not see who I am - that I am chronically misperceived and misinterpreted. My family. My friends. My coworkers. My sweetheart. Somehow, in the dark cave of eternal night, none of these people know me. They either stay and make me crazy or they leave and make me sad. It's very frustrating and quite lonely.

I imagine that everyone is as critical of myself as I am.

Action Girl

2004-12-03T14:42:00.000-05:00

I put on my new shoes - the black quasi-sneaker-mary-jane-hybrid ones with the orange stitching - and turned into an action hero.

It helps that I'm dressed all in black and that my hair is up in a functional-yet-fetching ponytail.

Still.

I'm the one who got the two PhD's before she'd hit her mid-twenties.
I'm the one who usually works in the lab or at HQ but who, when we join the story in progress - shortly after the opening credits have rolled - is called out for what should be some routine field work but which turns into international spy action adventure.
I'm the one who's like Emma Peale but kinda cooler.
I'm Emma Peale if she were Tina Fey.

These shoes, clearly, an excellent purchase.

NPR

2004-12-02T10:18:00.000-05:00

I could've sworn that I heard the radio tell me this morning that the Philippines is being ravaged by a Tycoon.

"Damn rich people," I thought.

another reason to hate old people

2004-12-01T10:04:00.000-05:00

So that guy Ken lost Jeopardy.

I never saw him play. Not once. And I really like Jeopardy - I just never watch anymore.

Every time I heard about him I couldn't help but think about that David Foster Wallace story - "Little Furry Animals," is it?

Anyway, this from the article in the New York Times:

"It's difficult just because it never really lets up," he said. "It's always the
same questions. It's always the viselike grip of the little old ladies."
His wife said: "He's had bruises on his arm. I'm not kidding."

Viselike grip. Bruises. Old ladies are BEASTS!

Open Letter to Today: Tuesday, November 30, 2004

2004-11-30T17:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Today,

I'm not sure quite where to begin thanking you for being such an incredible day.

Maybe I should begin with the CD's of great radio and a friend's band that were waiting at my desk this morning, having arrived in yesterday's mail and how great it was to listen to those CD's after lunch . . .
Maybe I should start with the really friendly lady at the dry cleaner on the way to work this morning who made me feel good about dropping off my sheets and towels to be washed and not embarassed and guilty as I'd been feeling all along . . .
Maybe I should start with how even though my toilet broke this morning, I found the Super and showed him the problem and gave him the keys and I'm highly optimistic that the problem will be resolved by the time I get home tonight . . .

Today, I could begin so many places telling you how awesome you've been . . . how awesome you still are: the promise of a good visit to the gym after work, maybe a glass of wine with a friend, some time on my new computer, early to bed.

You are the girl-next-door of great days. It isn't that anything terribly special happened - no presents, no promotions, it isn't a holiday - just that every aspect of my day has been so plesant. Mundane but delightful. Today, you are in so many ways ideal.

Thanks, Today. I know that there are ups and downs in every relationship, but this one's been great from the very beginning. I hope I'm lucky enough to find more days like you in my future.

Lots of Love,
Ee

Saddest Story Ever

2004-11-24T12:33:00.000-05:00

Today's entry at Girls Are Pretty (http://www.girlsarepretty.com/) put me in mind of the Saddest Story Ever. Here it is:

When my dad was little - maybe two or three years old - he and his sister (just a year older) were given a puppy for Christmas. Of course they were thrilled. They were in love. They were as happy as anyone can be on Christmas morning. They loved the puppy so much that they did what, for three and four year olds is perhaps the most selfless and loving thing: they gave the puppy all of their Christmas chocolates from their stockings. As you may or may not know, dear reader, chocolate is poisonous to dogs. They fed the puppy which they loved more than anything all of their chocolate because they loved it so much, and the puppy got sick and died.

Saddest Story Ever.

Good Hair Day

2004-11-23T10:02:00.000-05:00

Lawrence is the security guard at my office.
Every morning, when I come to work, Lawrence and I enjoy a short chat while I wait for the elevator.
Here, an excerpt from today's banter:

L: Your hair looks nice today
Ee: (shrugging modestly) It's clean . . .
L: (with gusto) It looks REAL clean!

Bad Dream

2004-11-19T13:59:00.000-05:00

Tonight after work I'm going to see a movie with a friend and, after, we're going to go out for dinner. We've selected a restaurant that I used to frequent with my ex - I found it, but it was near where he used to work.

I was thinking about these plans as I walked to work this morning, and I had a fantasy.

I imagined that I was sitting there with my friend and my ex came with his new girlfriend - the one he left me for and who's super jealous of/paranoid about me (in real life). He tries to convince her to go somewhere else, but she realizes something's up. He's in a corner and he has no choice but to come clean and admit that I'm there and that's why he thinks they should leave. She and I have never met and she's curious and feeling like the victor in the situation, so she starts to make a fuss, digging in her heels. This is when I notice that he's there and quickly ascertain what has happened. While I do everything I can to remain incognito, I am now obliged to begin explain the situation in hushed tones to my dining companion. The next thing I know, this woman is standing over our table, saying something antagonistic. She's saying something insulting. She's implying that she wants us to leave - that she and my ex somehow have more of a right to be there. I'm calm. I'm centered. I say that this is between her and my ex and between me and my ex, but there is absolutely nothing between she and I and since everything I've heard and, now, seen about her fills me with derision, it's probably best to keep it that way. I address my ex calmly over her head, using my pet name for him which I know will make her crazy. "We've already ordered and this is Manhattan. Surely you could find some other place to enjoy your meal . . . I just think that if the two of you stay, none of us will have a very nice time this evening." The matter is settled. I turn my attention back to my friend sitting across the table from me. He is startled but impressed with my cool ferocity. The ex is clearly embarrassed by his date. Now they're having a fight. He half drags her out of the restaurant. I win.

Serves Him Right

2004-11-18T16:09:00.000-05:00

This afternoon I had occasion to spend just a few fleeting minutes with my sweetheart.

He is awfully sweet.

We were walking along together and I mentioned, casually, that I started a blog today.

His eyes got all big and an "oh no" expression came across his face. "I don't think I want to read it . . . you'll probably write about me . . . you'd better not write about me!"

I laughed at him. "Who do you think you are?"

"What else do you write about in a blog except for boys? And no one writes about women because only women write blogs. I suppose I could imagine a lesbian writing about women . . ."

I really hadn't planned to mention him. But he kinda asked for it.

Probably, he's secretly delighted.

Dopplegangers

2004-11-18T11:55:00.000-05:00

Three things.

1. Last Friday, walking up Ninth Avenue, I was coming up on my neighborhood friend, Ken. "Holy Shit! It's Ken Webb!" I said. The man looked frightened and turned around. Not my friend Ken. "Oh god. I'm sorry," I said. "I thought you were someone else . . . and I was . . . mocking." What I meant was "and I was . . . swearing," but I was too embarassed to even call attention to it.

2. The night before last I was walking to the gym, heading East across 56th street. I saw my co-worker Ken Beck walking West heading home, I presumed. "Ken Beck!" I said as we drew near. I can't remember what he said, only that as we passed and he turned back to look at me he seemed horrified. I also seem to recall that, whatever he said, came out of his mouth with a Brittish accent. I appologized profusely again.

3. Last night as I approached the corner of my street and the avenue, a man eating dinner in the window of the resturaunt on the corner looked enough at first glance like my dad for me to have a fantasy. The fantasy was that this man didn't merely resemble my dad but, in fact, looked exactly like him. A twin. The weight of such an encounter becomes more apparent when I reveal that, in real life, my dad died a little less than two years ago. So, imagine that on the corner of your block, you run into a man who looks exactly like your dead dad. In the fantasy, I walk up to the window of the resturaunt and just kind of stare at him. I stare and I'm feeling somewhat alarmed. Before too long, this man can't ignore my bizare stare any longer and both he and his dining companion turn to look at me. I explain through the glass "you look just like my dad. you look exactly like my dad. my dad died but you look exactly like him." In the fantasy, I go to my apartment - just a few doors down - and i get my dad's glasses out of the drawer where I keep them and I bring them back to the resturaunt. I go inside and I tell the man to put them on and he does. And he looks even more exactly like my dad. And I just stand there and cry. I get the glasses back and go home. In real life last night, I took out my dad's glasses for the first time in a long time. They still have gross dirt on them from when he was in the hospital but since it's gross from my dad I can't really bear to clean them off. I miss my dad.

Open Letter - Breadmarket Cafe, W 52nd

2004-11-18T11:47:00.000-05:00

Dear Breadmarket Cafe on West 52nd Street between 5th and 6th,

Why is your coffee so bad?

It used to be pretty good. There was a lovely period in which I'd swing by on my way to work and get a cup of coffee with milk, give you my dollar and a smile and be on my way. I'd get to the office and feel satisfied with your product.

No more.

Lately, whenever I go your coffee tastes really terrible. Worse, it leaves terrible coffee taste in my mouth - like some coffee curled up in there about six weeks ago and died. Adding insult to injury, this morning my coffee cost $1.15. You're charging more for worse coffee! That's no good at all.

From now on, I'm gonna get my coffee somewhere else.

Love,
Ee

The Alpha

2004-11-18T10:22:00.000-05:00

And so it begins.

I am sucked into the narcisistic world of the blog.

I'll try not to let you down . . . you . . . out there . . .