Tout de Suite Buttercup!

New Digs

2008-08-04T00:19:00.004-04:00

Buttercup has moved to a new, less purple location on wordpress. Email her at gothambuttercup@gmail.com or check her out at: Buttercup In Gotham.

Hiatus

2008-07-07T11:17:00.002-04:00

I'm in the process of figuring out a new direction for the blog, and possibly for me. While I ponder the possibilities and play with graphic choices, I'm taking my blog on a little hiatus. I expect we'll be back relatively soon, maybe not at this address, but certainly somewhere in the blogsphere. If I make a permanent move from blogger, 'll be sure to leave a forwarding web address.

Until then, enjoy the summer. I hope you find time to relax on a lake shore, sway on a hammock, and eat a few ice creams in the sunshine. That's what I've started to crave, more and more incessantly, here amidst the high-octane energy of Gotham. I love this city, but...

Nephew-Sitting

2008-06-07T13:23:00.003-04:00

I have a few moments to write because I just put my little nephew down for a nap. I calmed him, rocked him until he went to sleep, and then gingerly laid him down in his crib, holding my breath that he wouldn't wake up, and he didn't! He's all sweaty and adorable, knocked out for 20 minutes or so. Quite an accomplishment, Auntie, if I do say so myself.

I'm on baby-sitting duty with my mom (she does all the diapers) because my little sister just gave birth to her second child. I now have a niece! She's beautiful just like her brother. She's hanging out with her mom and dad in the hospital for a few days, so it's just me and my mom taking care of my nephew.

Having lived many years away from children, it's always astonishing, delightful, and eye-opening to be around them. How stay-at-home moms and dads do it is completely beyond me. How my little sister is going to take care of a one year old and an infant is beyond me. From the moment I've woken up, it's been (almost) all about my nephew. Me and my mom fed him, which was quite the experience, with him ending up covered in goo, and then we tag-teamed playing with him while first one and then the other showered and got dressed.

My mom vacuumed (vacume is such a strange word), cleaned up the kitchen, and made the beds while I rolled around with my nephew pretending to be a monster. I brought out finger puppets and he went angelically nuts, beaming and giggling and shrieking with glee trying to grab them all. His smiles are so sweet it's sometimes heartbreaking. For a while, I let him play by himself and watched as he picked up his toys one by one, mumbling shh-sing noises to himself. I tried to read some of my book, but kept looking up every few sentences. Moms of young children probably don't read a lot.

A few days ago, I was talking with my friends Em and Essa about leaving New York at some point in the future. I love the city, and right now the thought of moving away from it makes me feel like I would be carving out a piece of myself, so I'm not going to do it anytime soon. Maybe never, I don't know. During the conversation, Em said that no one should leave new york until they get to the point when they're really ready, because if they leave before they're done, they'll regret it. I'm not sure I'll ever be done with New York, so that leaves me in a bit of a quandary for the future (a quandary I suspect will work itself out eventually).

Playing with my nephew, I was thinking that a similar thing could be said about babies. You shouldn't have them until you are really ready. Right now, I still feel like I'm too selfish to have a baby. For example, I have stolen more than a few moments to read my book in between playing with him (stolen them from who? Him? Me?). Maybe that makes me a terrible Auntie? Or, maybe I'm just channeling mommy guilt and projecting it? Or, maybe I'm just being balanced about this? If I played with him 24-7, both of us would be too tired for anything else. It's OK for him to entertain himself, and it's OK for me to do the same. Balance. If I was a mom, I don't think I would play with my child 24-7 either. Who could? Instead, I imagine you do what my mom and I have been doing the past couple days, you work out a routine that works for you, try to keep the kids safe, if not perfectly clean, and you go with it.

Getting back to my nephew and new niece. They are so freaking cute. I feel really lucky to be an Auntie. Can't wait until Bean and the new baby come home from the hospital.

Hostage In Legal La-La Land

2008-05-28T21:43:00.004-04:00

I'm somewhere in the Midwest doing litigation training and I'm taking a quick break out of my mock-trial preparation to note that I would like the record to reflect that I would much prefer doing any of the following:

1) Riding my bike, with which I am still very much in love, all over New York. In fact, I'm going through withdrawal at the moment.

2) Pondering the existential crisis into which I threw myself after my retreat at the Chopra Center. The crisis being: What is my Dharma (i.e. "purpose and meaning" in life. Me thinks I must find it).

3) Meditating - I did not do my daily RPM today. Curse early morning flights! Or is it a lack of discipline, dedication, and organization I should be cursing.

4) Reading book 7 of the Anita Blake Vampire Chronicles. When last I left that marvelous world Jean Claude and Anita had kissed for the first time, after Jean Claude had taken a bubble bath just before "dying" at dawn. How hard could it be to find a human version of Jean Claude? Snap to it Universe!

The point, my friends, is that although this is a great training experience, and although I am grateful for it and will get as much out of it as possible - all caveats aside - I'd rather be doing something else at the moment.

If I only have one life, shouldn't I be spending as many minutes of it as possible doing something I want to be doing? Finding my Dharma. I can't even consider, however, these greater life questions because I have to go prep now. Duty calls.

RPM (For Meditation)

2008-05-27T11:08:00.002-04:00

How do I meditate? When do I meditate? How do I silence my mind? What do I do with the thoughts? These are some questions I have pondered during the last year. In it's most basic sense, mediation is sitting in stillness. Physical and mental stillness. One would think that sitting quietly would not have so much mystery around it, but it does. I want to know the "right" way to meditate. I want to know what to expect, how do I know that it's working, what's the proper way to sit, and again, what do I do with those incessant thoughts that poke up like an infinite supply of pink elephants the minute I start trying not to think of them?

This weekend, at a retreat lead by the Chopra Center, Renewal Weekend, I had some of those questions answered. They practice a type of mediation called "primordial sound meditation," where you meditate by repeating a mantra over and over again as a way to quite your mind chatter and allow you to go deeper within yourself. The three-party mantra starts with "om" and ends with "namah" (pronounced nemah), and has a sound in between that is your "seed," the vibration that the universe was making at the time of your birth. The Chopra Center has a computer that figures out your seed; without the computer program I'm not sure how to find out your seed, but I don't really think it's important. The important thing is to have a mantra, any mantra, but one that's a sound, not words with meaning that will create, rather, than still your thoughts.

In terms of how to mediate, the Chopra Center is big on comfort. There should be no discomfort or "trying" in mediation, according to Deepak. You are to sit comfortably and repeat your mantra. When thoughts come and you slip away from the mantra, gently drift back to repeating the mantra. The idea is to be gentle with yourself. There is no berating, no judging, no punishment. Just the mantra and gentle drifting back to the mantra when thoughts come.

In terms of when, one of the teachers, David Gi, gave us "RPM" as a meditation tool. RPM stands for: Rise, Pee, Meditate. Everyone rises in the morning, many of us pee, so we are 2/3rds of the way there. The third part is sitting down, even before you've brushed your teeth or gotten your caffeine kick of the day, and meditating for a half hour. Because a half hour is a lot, it might be too much at first. I made a commitment to try RPM for 20 days - until June 14th - and have done it for the past 2 days for about 15 minutes each. The idea is to create a stillness and silence within that you can take with you for the rest of the day into your relationships. So far, I think it's working today. I feel calm and well. It's nice.

For the afternoon meditation, David Gi gave us "RAW" - "Right After Work." Because I'm being gentle with myself and starting with baby steps, I'm not putting pressure on myself to do two meditations a day, but for the future it's something to think about. For now, I'm sticking with the RPMs. I have 18 more days to go. It's an experiment to see how I'll feel after 20 days of this. Anyone else want to try?

White Noise

2008-05-25T22:34:00.006-04:00

In honor of my new neighbor, a young pot-smoking guy just out of college who works in advertising and enjoys bringing over a steady stream of his pot-smoking friends to party on the balcony just outside my bedroom window on weeknights, I purchased this little white-noise number, the Marpac Sleepmate 980.

It's awesome. Although it doesn't fully eliminate the sound violations from my sphere of awareness, it does dull them enough so that I can reign in my anticipatory anxiety, slow my boiling blood, and talk myself down onto a calmer plane. Did you know that stress responses - like quickening blood, platelets getting sticky, and rapid breathing - increase one's susceptibility to disease and health challenges?

There's no need for me to outrun any saber tooth tigers, yet when I hear my neighbor at times when I don't want to hear him (when my need for silence and quiet goes unmet), I get stressed, and my body reacts just as it would if I had caught site of a tiger ready to pounce - albeit probably with much more anger and much less fear than if my neighbor actually were a bloodthirsty saber toothed tiger. Why is it that saber toothed tigers went extinct? Anyone know? I'm too tired to wikipedia it at the moment.

Anyway, getting back to the most terrific sound machine ever. It's fantastic and highly recommended. I keep it on the first setting to create a relaxed, noise muting environment. It's like a little white noise sound cocoon that envelopes and soothes, the effects of which are magnified by my earplugs (I can't quite break myself of that habit yet). Sensory deprivation. One day I'm going to go in to a dark sensory deprivation tank where I float on water in a wet suit that makes it impossible to feel the water, with ear plugs that make it impossible to hear, pitch blackness that makes it impossible to see, and no noise or smells. It would be awesome, and perhaps a little scary. It would have to be simple and easy to get out of instantaneously, or otherwise the anxiety would ruin the experience.

I'm tired and rambling slightly and clearly in need of my white-noise machine induced dream time. I'm on Book 5 of the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Chronicles and continuing to voraciously eat them up one after another. All I want to say is that I love Jean Claude and Anita and can not wait until they get together. If I were Anita, I would absolutely choose Jean Claude over Richard. Richard is sexy but he's also kind of a pill. Jean Claude would totally take him. He's like Geoffrey from the Angelique books. Dashing, strong, and dangerously sexy, and a vampire to boot.

Killer Dream

2008-05-21T10:16:00.002-04:00

I think the vampire books are getting to me (I'm on book 3). Last night, I had a nightmare where I was being pursued by a serial killer who may also have been dating my little sister. At one point, on a deserted rooftop in the middle of the night, the serial killer leaned over me, his heavy body pinning me to the ground, and said, as he stroked my lips with the flat of his thumb, "You forgive me. You're mouth will forgive me."

I was so happy to wake up alive, sans serial killer, - bob and all - I just lay in my bed for a few minutes at dawn, breathing deeply, filled with relief and gratitude. With no killer in sight, I can totally work this bob (thanks Starshine!).

Beckham's Bob

2008-05-20T22:39:00.006-04:00

I do things sometimes, impulsively, and then sometimes I regret them. Sometimes I'm aided in these impulsive actions by scissor-wielding accomplices; they call themselves "hair stylists." Other times I do them myself, like when I was a second year college student studying for final exams and I went all OCD one procrastination-filled evening and started snipping the edges of my shoulder length brown hair.

By the end of that episode, four inches of hair lay limp and broken on the tiled bathroom floor, my hair just grazed the bottoms of my ears, and I still had a paper to write. I was not a pretty site. Thank god I was still in my tom-boy phase. The only thing worse than having hair shorter than my then boyfriend was a few months later when I was forced to appear in a hideous, poofy peach bridesmaid dress with my mushroom cap hair at my step brother's wedding. I was the only white girl in the bridal party and I did not do myself proud.

A month ago my hair was long and super annoying. So annoying that I booked myself an immediate appointment with my former hair stylist, blazed into the salon and instructed him grandly to cut it all off. Well, not all of it. Only about 5 inches. The intent was to transform my limp and lifeless locks, which I had become positive were pulling my face downward ever so unattractively, into a chic, flirty bob. For the first week after the cut, I couldn't have been happier. By week three - this week - my hair was beginning to annoy me. Rather than chic bob, I appeared to have been saddled with a matronly triangle cut, my hair plastered to my head, jutting out in a frizzy mess two inches past my chin. Ugh. How can a girl even consider taking up Internet dating again under these frazzled conditions?

So, I did what any quick thinking New York girl would have done in similar conditions. I called up my therapist's stylist - using a number she had given me weeks ago when I noticed her new fantastic hair cut (good stylists are almost as hard to come by as good apartments) - and took the first appointment she had available: 3:00 pm Tuesday afternoon. Even lawyers can play hookie when faced with an emergency situation. I have an event tomorrow night! Did I mention that my bike helmet had been exacerbating the triangular shape of my first foray in to the world of bob? Hideous.

The new stylist was great. Definitely more talented than my former stylist, and for that reason alone I might keep her, even though I'm not loving her most recent creation. She gave me everything I asked for, a style, a chic bob, a haircut with sophisticated flare, and she did it all with a dry-cutting, rapid-snipping technique that would have made Edward Scissorhands envious. The problem you ask? It's just a tad too short for my tastes. The kind of short that from moment to moment has me flipping between thinking "oh my god, it's an old woman haircut that makes you look like a boy - dig a hole and don't come out until it's grown out," to "omg, it's kind of cute and flirty, let me see it again from that angle, with that lipstick, with a little product, you could totally work it." I'm so torn.

Because burying myself like an ostrich is not an option, the only thing to do, like so often in life, is to fake it until you make it. I choose to imagine that it looks sexy and flirty and to wear absolutely fabulous earrings tomorrow night. For the record, I want to state that I did not, at any point in my discussions with my new stylist, request that she give me Victoria Beckham's hairstyle. But, that's what she did. Did I mention that my hair has not been this short in TEN years?

She should have given me Beckham along with the haircut. I would have been ever so much happier at the moment...

Stripper Names?

2008-05-20T10:30:00.007-04:00

Do parents really need guidance regarding what not to name their baby girls so that they don't grow up to be strippers? Apparently, this site thinks they do. Sage advice from the site includes this gem:

"Baby Girl Names to Avoid: One of the biggest mistakes parents make when naming a baby girl is giving her a name that points her toward the pole. Avoid using car names. Mercedes isn't classy, it just sounds like someone trying to sound classy. Mercedes is, however, and excellent name for a stripper. Be careful naming your baby girl after some characteristics like Chastity. When you name your girl Chastity you are only making her a target and a challenge to dozens of high school boys in the future. "

Reading this, I feel like I'm listening to a spin-off of Chris Rock's HBO comedy special, which was hilarious. But he was making jokes. This appears to be serious. Strippers do not become strippers because of their names. It's not an accident. There are causes like abuse, exploitation, parental neglect, poverty, low self esteem, and a lack of other options. There is something really wrong about stumbling across cautionary information about strippers while innocently searching for a baby name.

Also, who made this site an expert on stripper names? And how sick is the world if naming a girl "Chastity" makes her a target for dozens of high school boys? If parents taught their sons to respect women, then women would not have to worry about whether they might one day be perceived as sexual targets, regardless of their dress, past sexual practices, current sexual practices, or their name.

New Lovers

2008-05-18T23:17:00.005-04:00

I did something totally awesome this weekend. After a year of fantasizing about buying a fold-up bike, I did it. I bought a Brompton - a top of the line folding bike - and it's hands down one of the coolest things I have seen in a long time. It's just shy of a full-sized bike, but it folds down into a square about 20 inches in diameter . I took my new baby (I go back and forth between thinking of it as my new baby and my new lover) to church, shopping, and then to the movies today. Everywhere I went, the stares followed.

It's hard not to stare at a 20-inch square contraption that folds out into a regular sized bike in 20 seconds flat. It's also hard not to feel like a suped-up technological bad-ass while unfolding the bike, particularly after just watching "Iron Man" and dreaming about being a superhero far far away from corporate America. I'm just being honest. I may not be a superhero, but I have a freakin' awesome ride now.

Since "Iron Man" came up, let me just say a word about Mr. Robert Downey Jr. I love him. Love, love, love him. On a serious note, I am happy he appears to have gotten himself well enough to make a terrific movie. He makes a deliciously entertaining and inspiring superhero. On a less substantive note, the man is beautiful. Deep, dark, thick-lashed eyes, wide shoulders, smooth muscles all over his back, arms and chest - strength with a dash of vulnerability and humor. I also have an unabashed weakness for perfectly manicured goatees. Pirates, the dessert warrior from "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," Drummer, and my college boyfriend all played upon this weakness of mine. Sexy.

I could have watched him blow-torching together the parts of his "Iron Man" outfit for another two hours, easily. He's my new favorite superhero. He may even have unseated the Sayid-Jin-Sawyer triumvirate from their first place position in my fantasies. Nice work Mr. Downey Jr.

Getting back to real life, I'm planning to commute to work on my new baby tomorrow. I'm all geared-out, helmet and all. Green-house gases, boo-yah!

Old Maid Is Just A Card Game

2008-05-16T10:46:00.004-04:00

A word about being single: Relative to stormy relationships, being single is fantastic. You get to do what you want, when you want, with whomever you want to do it with. You might not have the clouds bursting into rose petals around you, but you also avoid relationship-related pits of anxiety, uncertainty, and hurt feelings which can sometimes happen. Instead of the highs and lows, you have a more even-keel existence.

Feeling a little anxiety about being single, however, is sometimes unavoidable. For example, when a critical mass of your friends suddenly become engaged and/or married and you find your totally unattached self out at an event admiring everyone else's rings, it can be somewhat destabilizing. Don't get me wrong, I could not be more happy for my friends. Their happiness makes me happy; they're wonderful, they have wonderful men in their lives, and that's thrilling and exciting. But, to be perfectly frank, all those uniquely cut diamonds do make a girl just a tad self-conscious about her current lack of prospects. Not for marriage - just for men that she might be interested in.

This feeling is added to by comments from the peanut gallery, i.e. your family. Another example will be illustrative. The other day, I was talking with my father and sharing with him my excitement over a trip I am planning to Tanzania. The trip will include 11 days out on safari in 5-star camps and lodges, taking puddle-jumper planes in between camps, seeing lions, giraffes, elephants, and tons of other animals up close, and then a few days on the beach in Zanzibar. The trip is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I'm so excited about it.

My Dad asked me who I was going with and I told him it was one of my girlfriends who is a few years old than me. My father responded, "Oh, she doesn't have a boyfriend either?" I said, "Either?" I thought we were talking about my trip to Africa; I didn't realize were talking about my relationship status. That conversation was a few days ago, but it keeps coming back to me. It reminded me of a conversation I had with him while I was planning my trip to India last year. He said something to the effect of: You say you want a relationship, but you're not going to get it this way. Why don't you wait to go on these big trips until you have a boyfriend? At that time, we got in to a huge fight. Now that I'm more mature a year later, I just let it wash off of me, for the most part.

I know I'm single. I get it. I don't need comments implying that I'm doing something wrong just because I'm not neatly packaged away into a nugget of nuclear bliss. And let's just remember that I was in fact dating someone until 2 1/2 months ago. It's not like I sit up on a shelf twiddling my thumbs gathering dust bunnies around me. What is the point of criticizing me for doing something that I love (traveling)? If I was in a relationship and making the choice to travel on my own instead of nurturing the relationship - if I was really making a choice between (a) traveling and (b) relationship - then I could understand my father's comments. It's like he thinks I could make a worthwhile relationship materialize out of thin air at the snap of my fingers if I would just focus on it and stop flitting around the globe. Instead of using my coveted 4 weeks of vacation to do something fun and self-sustaining, I should apparently be directing all of my spare energy into hunting for men. Not.

The choice he imagines is not before me. I am not in a relationship. Going on a kick-ass trip to Africa is not going to limit my chances of getting into a relationship with someone eventually. Two weeks away from the New York dating scene is not going to destroy my relationship chances for life. Frankly, the way dating in New York can be sometimes, I might just have better luck bumping in to someone amazing outside of Manhattan.

The choice before me now is whether to (a) enjoy my life to the fullest or (b) feel sorry for myself. I like to enjoy my life, and I don't really have any reason to feel sorry for myself, so for many reasons, I choose option "A." All I can control is me, so I'm taking my single self to Africa. Because I want to, because I can, and because there's no one around to stop me.

The thing that really pisses me off about this is that there's no way my father (and probably most people) would have a similar view if I was a man. My brother Frey, who is one year younger than me, has a demanding job, just like me, and just like me spends his free time traveling. I don't believe my father has once said to Frey that he should focus more on settling down and less on enjoying himself. It is a total double standard based on this image of women turning into old maids if they're not married by the age of 30, and men becoming ever more sexy in their bachelorhood.

Well, fuck that. I passed my 30th birthday and my taxi did not turn into a pumpkin, and I don't think it's going to anytime soon, what with all the blessed cabs there are in Manhattan. Of course I could kiss a boy if I wanted to - most women could. But, I'm on a boy moratorium until I find something worthy of more than a roll in the shadows of a club. For now, I'm going to continue as I am: Yoga and meeting up with friends tonight, brunch, shopping, and going out tomorrow night, and Sunday to relax, run and enjoy the Park. It's not a bad life. It's actually quiet wonderful. It would be nice if the peanut gallery realized that.

Vampire Book Obsession

2008-05-14T10:11:00.004-04:00

I'm obsessed. I picked up "The Harlequin," by Laurell K. Hamilton, quite by accident a few days ago. The main character is Anite Blake, a vampire hunter, necromancer, and - by the time of "Harlequin" - a lover of vampires and wereleopards, wolves, and lions. Cool female character, humor, hot vampires, magical powers, and masses of sex. For obvious reasons, I tore through it.

It wasn't until I had finished it that I realized "The Harlequin" was the 15th or so book in the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Novels and that there were 14 others that I had jumped over! I made a special trip to Barnes & Noble, couldn't find the first one, so settled on buying the second. I finished the second one and needed an immediate fix, so I went to a different Barnes and Noble and bought the first one. I read it last night, walking to work this morning on the sidewalks, on the subway, and in the elevator going up to my office. It was with extreme reluctance that I laid the book aside to begin my work.

When I was younger I read all of the Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles and loved them, but until picking up the Harlequin I hadn't realized there was a whole genre of Sci-Fi/Fantasy that was Fantasy/Horror. Actually, I think it's quite unfair to put the Vampire Hunter novels in Horror. They're not "Horror" just because they have vampires sucking people's blood, rampaging zombies ripping people apart, or berserk ghouls... OK, maybe they are horror. I guess I like Fantasy/Horror Books (but not movies ala "The Saw"). Who knew?

Has anyone else discovered these awesome books? Other suggestions in the same genre?

Pinballing

2008-05-11T18:00:00.003-04:00

There must be something in the air because there have been a number of ex-sightings of late, not to mention some ex-play. I saw Drummer again a couple of weeks ago, in between being sick. In fact, he may have just given me my latest bug - a bug which I'm proud to say I beat off sans antibiotics and am now stronger for it. I'm not getting sick again this season. Period. We went to Beauty Bar and Snatchers down in the East Village and had some beers - the first beers I had had in almost a year. Apparently, I've turned in to a bit of a wine drinker. There was something about drinking a chilled $5 Brooklyn Lager that was unbelievably satisfying, and fun.

Perhaps too fun, because we ended up having a little sleep over and some smooching ensued. It was nice and comfortable in a way that I guess only making out with an ex-boyfriend who was cool can be. There was no awkwardness or anxiety. It was just pleasant. I'm not sure though that I'll repeat the experience because I think it's true that if you're directing your energy into the past, you're necessarily not opening yourself up the future, or even to the now. On the other hand, enjoying someone from the past in the present - with no concerns about the past and no anxiety about the future - is very much living in the present, so that' s OK. But, I think the whole "recycling" thing, even for an evening, can keep you stuck in the past, in a way that I don't want to be. I'm melancholy, sensitive, and nostalgic enough as it is - I don't need smooches with men of my past to mess with me.

And, if I'm honest with myself, though I did not want anything and still don't, mess with me it did. Not in a major way, but just a little. It's like a cove open to the Ocean that's been cordoned off by a deep wall of rocks piled one atop the other all the way up to the surface. The power of the open water is held at bay, the pressure remains carefully balanced as water passes back and forth between the cove and the open water, splashing and trickling over and between the rocks of the wall. A storm happens out in the Ocean and the wall protects the cove. But, the cove is only protected as long as the rock wall remains intact. Take a way a few boulders and suddenly a rush of open sea floods the cove, bringing with it pretty shells, pebbles, a different ph-balance, and, on occassion, a few sharks. My indiscretion with Drummer did not let a shark in, but it toppled a few boulders out of place. The wall was easily rebuilt, but the temporary break was a reminder that some things are probably best left out in the open water on the other side of the wall.

The other sighting wasn't really a sighting per se. I heard through the grapevine that my college ex-boyfriend is getting divorced. Totally unexpectedly, that news brought with it a small swirl of emotions. One of them was sadness. Sadness that we're all bouncing around this life like pinballs, running into one another, spending a moment here, a moment there, finding moments we think are special, building on them, and then watching them splinter apart. Sounds a little bleak and depressive, right?

I think I've been feeling kind of melancholy, and sure enough, the Capricorn horoscope on Facebook - an eminently dependable source - said today: "Capricorn, you're having a hard time shaking yourself out of your funky mood. Stay away from others so you don't bring them down." Thanks, Facebook. My little sister, Bean, echoed Facebook when she said to my Mother, upon hearing (a) that I had smooched Drummer and (b) that I was sick again: "Buttercup's got to stop kissing boys." I think there might be some truth to that. It might just be time for a Boy Moratorium.

Tea Time

2008-05-06T09:47:00.007-04:00

One summer during law school, I went to Cambodia to work for an organization doing poverty reduction and women's rights work. I fell in love with Phnom Penh, the French colonial architecture, the rubble strewn streets, and view from the F.C.C. looking out over the steamy Mekong River. Phnom Penh is an eclectic mix of the old and the new, with pockets of modernity catering to the expat community at phenomenally low prices, with exquisite attention to detail. Coffee and tea served in blue and white china, a flower petal decorating a lunch plate, the lazy hum of ceiling fans stirring the hot, humid air, and sunlight streaming through bamboo shades.

After spending 2 months in Cambodia, I traveled to other parts of South East Asia with my friend Wood for about a month. We went to Siem Riep and saw the ancient majesty of Angkor Wat - massive temple complexes rising up out of the jungle, covered with intricately carved dancing girls that make the Mayan ruins in Central America look like nothing more than melted sandcastles. From Angkor Wat, we went to Hanoi and shopped among its crooked, curving streets, and then went to see the tomb of Ho Chi Minh. Over Ho Chi Minh's tomb gleamed the red symbols of communism, but out on the streets North Vietnam was humming with Capitalism. Hawkers selling trinkets on the street, shop's bursting with goods for sale, gellato parlors, books, handmade silk dresses, leather goods, metal work, fine jewelry, and delicately beaded bags. Hanoi was completely different than anything I had ever heard about Vietnam. It's a shopping Mecca.

From Hanoi, Wood and I traveled to Southern China, where we spent two weeks exploring the picturesque mountain towns of Dali and Lijang, and some larger cities in the Yunnan Province. I had no idea that China was so vast. At one point, I took a 12-hour bus from one point to the next and for hours saw only fields and grass; it was like Kansas, but in China. In Dali, a city smack in the middle of the backpacker's route, we had chocolate banana pancake and peach lassies, almost every morning.

Lijang was my favorite. It was a fairyland set up in the mountains, ringed with fields of giant sunflowers, its buildings fashioned in the traditional Chinese style, its streets dotted with red lanterns in the evening. Wood and I stayed in a guest house run by a family who lived on the premises. Our room was simple and white - white walls, white sheets, and white frosty air in the mornings before the sun's warmth penetrated the stones. Between our two beds was a small table upon which stood a large metal thermos painted with pale pink flowers. Each morning and evening, the guest house refilled the thermos with tea. It was wonderful. So soothing, relaxing, and comforting, and such a hospitable touch. To the Chinese, it was normal, but to me it was special.

Today, at the office, instead of filling up my french press with coffee, I filled it with hot water and dropped in two tea bags of green and black tea with an essence of peach. Sipping the tea and refilling my mug, in between working on my document this morning, I found myself smiling, remembering sipping tea up in the mountains of China with Wood.

Friends + Fun = Drinks

2008-05-01T08:09:00.006-04:00

This week, I met up with my friend Pas from D.C. on one night, and my friend Bug from A2 (Ann Arbor for the non-Michiganders out there) on another. Pas was up in New York for work and Bug was back here visiting folks. I feel so lucky I got to see both of them. It's one of the perks of living in New York: People come to you.

My current interest in detoxification (I have another class tonight on detoxification taught by the Chinese herbalist), did not stop me from imbibing a number of toxins. I was celebrating, my friends were in town, how often do I get to see them? You want to prolong the enjoyment of their company and the wine tastes good, so you have another. It's not like I fell off the proverbial wagon. I had two glasses of wine on Tuesday and two glasses of wine + a beer last night. But still, that's 5 drinks already this week. Assuming I have at least 2 drinks on Friday and Saturday, that could easily get me up to almost 10 drinks in one week purely on a social (not-partying) basis. The numbers - and the toxins - can really wrack up.

To counter the toxins, I sometimes alternate between drinks and a glass of club soda with lime. As long as you have a glass in your hand, no one notices (or cares) what's in the glass, but your body notices because you feel a shade better in the morning than you would have had you not alternated. Last night, of course, I didn't alternate. I had a glass of pinot, a syrah, and then a stella artois. I came home and guzzled a glass of water and 2 motrin, channeling my high school days. I also ate some granola to sop up the alcohol, although I'm not sure that was necessary or useful. I feel fine this morning except that my stomach feels like I have a wet clump of clay sitting in it, my mouth is a little dry, and I'm tired. It's just no longer worth it to feel even a twinge of hung-over. It's like a wet blanket dragging across the dirty ground on an otherwise perfectly lovely summer day. This must be because I'm in my 30s, or maybe it's just the effects of having a more healthy lifestyle. It's the whole Princess and the Pea effect.

In any event, I had a terrific time seeing both of my friends, and I wouldn't trade a minute of it - or a drop of the toxins.

Chinese Medicinal Detox

2008-04-27T17:53:00.005-04:00

In keeping with my current detoxification kick, I'm taking a 4-session class on detoxification taught from the perspective of Chinese Medicine. I'm quickly learning that the amount of knowledge out there on detoxification is staggering. There's ancient sources of knowledge like Chinese Medicine and Ayurveda, more modern holistic approaches, and there's also, of course, Western Medicine/Science. They all have their own particular spins on detoxification, but they also have similarities that run through them.

In the second session of the Chinese Medicine class, the instructor looked at all of our tongues and categorized each of us as belonging to 1 of 4 constitutional types. (It was quite bizarre, but cool). He told me I was "definitely a 3," which is normal heat (or yang) but deficient yin. In order to increase my yin, I need to eat cooling, moistening food, and along with that I am supposed to eat "salty" foods like fish and seaweed (both of which are apparently cooling and moistening). Everyone in the class, regardless of their constitutional type, is supposed to reduce heat by eating bitter foods - many of the same foods that are known for their detoxification affect.

I also learned that the liver has two phases of detoxification. In the first phase the liver and its enzymes activities the toxins, in some case making the toxins - which had just been floating around the body or hanging out in the body's fat layers - toxic. In the second phase, the liver and its enzymes grab hold of the toxins and usher them out of the body. In order for the body to effectively eliminate toxins, both phases must operate efficiently.

When people go on dramatic fasts such as multi-day juice fasts or programs like the master cleanse, phase 1 is kicked in to high gear and masses of toxins are dumped into the body. This is why, for example, when fasting you often get a headache or suffer symptoms like exhaustion or weakness. There are simply too many toxins flooding the body for the body to grab and eliminate. I had often thought that using colonics or enemas to purge the bowel would effectively rid the body of the toxins released through fasting. However, according to the instructor of my Chinese Medicine class, purging the bowel just purges the bowel, it does not eliminate all of the bodies toxins.

What's the solution? It's quite interesting because it's based on providing the body with the nutrients it needs to support phase 2 activity. So, instead of forcing the body into a crisis state by depriving it of nourishment through dramatic fasts, a more effective way of ridding the body of toxins is apparently to nourish it so that it can operate the way it was designed to at the most optimum level. By the way, I believe that limited fasts of a day or so are beneficial for the body, mainly because it gives the digestive system a break, but that's different than a multi-day fast that, in addition to providing the digestive system with a rest, could cause a mass release of toxins.

It makes sense that gentler release of toxins into the body, one that the body could manage, would be better than suddenly releasing years or months of built up toxins. It's a like a stream with a few pieces of garbage floating on its surface. Standing on the edge of the river, you could easily fish out the individual pieces of garbage as the floated by. However, if someone upstream were to crack open a massive damn holding back a junkyard full of trash, your efforts to fish out the garbage as it floated by would be completely overwhelmed because of the sheer mass of garbage. The garbage would get by you and end up polluting the areas downstream.

It's the same with the body. We have to get the toxins out of the body, but we have to do it in a slow, steady, and sustainable way, rather than a sudden and dramatic manner. What I love about this approach (found in Chinese Medicine, Ayurveda, and holistic healing theories, but lacking in Western Medicine) is that it emphasizes harnessing the body's own power to heal itself. It's not about prescribing a pill here or a shot there; rather, it's about providing the body with the proper nourishment it needs to thrive.

Does this new knowledge mean that I've cut out all stimulants and other inflammatory agents and switched over to a strict diet of moistening, cooling foods? No, not by a long shot. But, I am becoming more conscious of my body's needs, and the way my choices regarding what I put in my body affect it, and I'm starting to make small changes. Change starts with awareness, and that's where I'm at at the moment - becoming more aware.

Goodbelly

2008-04-24T18:32:00.004-04:00

Doing some grocery shopping the other night in the natural food market near my house, I discovered these "goodbelly" pro-biotic and nutrient packed fruit juice shots. The last two days, I brought them to work and had them as a snack, once in the morning, and today in the afternoon. They're tasty, only 50 calories, and my stomach feels terrific. Not stressed out, tight, or uncomfortable in any way.

It could be that my stomach feels so great because I've been doing very little work today, focusing instead on signing up for holistic health classes and catching up with friends (a girl has to have her social life!), but it's also possible those little goodbelly shots work. I'm all about promoting digestive health, so I think I'll try a few more days with the shots and see how my tummy feels. Apparently, a lot of dis-ease starts in your digestive track, so if you have issues there, it's important to address them, and things that increase digestive health are a plus.

Not for nothing, I couldn't help but notice that goodbelly is made by Swedes. Figures.

Sayonara Starbuck's (and Plastic Bags)

2008-04-23T10:17:00.007-04:00

Yesterday was Earth Day 2008. (You know what is really amusing? My first attempt at writing that sentence came out like this: Yesterday was Earth Day 2002. Temporary Brain Glitch). In any event, as I was saying, yesterday was Earth Day. Did you participate? Take any eco-friendly action, become more eco-conscious (like learning about sterile "terminator" seeds engineered not to reproduce themselves)?

I'm excited and proud of myself because I implemented two changes this week to reduce my Ecological Footprint. Both of them are just little things, but they're positive steps in the right direction. Thinking about climate change, air pollution, disappearing bees, bats, tuna, and wild salmon, and the type of massive change and international cooperation that is going to be necessary to save the planet (and us) is too overwhelming. But, thinking about the little things each of us can do, step by step, to contribute to a more positive world, is totally within the realm of the possible. Here are the 2 little things I started this week:

1) Carrying a small reusable bag in my purse: I have an adorable little vinyl bag that I can fold up into a tiny square and keep in my purse. I've started carrying my breakfast to work in the bag, and also using it at lunch when I go out and buy a sandwich. Instead of using the paper or plastic bags all the lunch places automatically pack your food up in, I use my own bag (and even sometimes carry my co-workers food back to the office). It also comes in handy if I pick up something little - food or other things - after work. On Monday, I had a totally plastic-bag-free day. I want to build up to plastic-bag-free weeks, and eventually go totally plastic-bag free. That's one of my goals for this year.

2) Saying sayonara to my daily cup of Starbuck's: My friend Sage had the brilliant idea (she does it every day) to bring a french press to work and to store loose-leaf tea and coffee at her office. Each morning, she makes her own coffee or tea at work and uses a real mug. I've had quite a long love affair with Starbuck's but it's time to say goodbye. The coffee is not that good, it's an unnecessary expense, and most importantly, I generate unnecessary garbage by patronizing them. At a cost of $2 per cup, I spend at least $480 per year on Starbuck's, and toss at least 240 paper cups into the trash every year. That's horrible! I want to clean up my own act and start living in a more sustainable way. Today, I'm happy to report, I used no disposable items to make my coffee, and it tasted quite good!

What eco-friendly little things do you do? What could you do?

Ayurvedic Doshas

2008-04-22T11:07:00.003-04:00

I've been reading about Ayurveda lately, and I'm finding it fascinating. Ayurveda began initially as a means towards facilitating attaining enlightenment. Yogis seeking enlightenment couldn't get there with their heads aching, stomachs grumbling, and skin itching, so Ayurveda developed as a way to get the body in order. In the mind-body-spirit connection, Ayurveda focuses on healing the body so that you can be free to heal your mind and spirit.

Within the 5,000 years of Ayurvedic knowledge is lots of practical health information and wisdom. It starts with determining what of the three Ayurvedic doshas is most prevalent within you. You can think of a dosha as an element. According to Ayurveda, three elements make up the human body - Vatta, Pitta, and Kapha - and each person has a main body type that is one of those three elements. The dosha body types, in turn, have general guidelines for maintaining health and balance through such things as food choice and lifestyle. Permeating all of this is a sense of mindfulness and balance - two things I have come to believe are essential and highly desirable in life.

I, apparently, am a Vatta. I'm also apparently a Vatta with a Vatta imbalance (although I'm working to balance out!). I have a little bit of Pitta, and almost no Kapha. Vattas are air; they are in their heads, very sensitive, constantly thinking, obsessing, feeling anxiety. Vattas in balance are all of those things, but enthusiastic and grounded, something they can achieve through grounding activities like yoga and meditation.

Reading about Ayurveda and Vattas has been like an unfolding revelation. It's put the last couple of years, where I was so clearly out of balance, and then the last year where I've been working on attaining balance by exploring practices like yoga and meditation into perspective. One way of looking at it is to say that I have been trying to balance out my Vatta - unknowingly - by adding more Kapha (basically, chillness) into my life. I'm just an Ayurveda baby, so there's lots more to learn, but so far I think it's pretty freakin' cool.

Don't you want to know your Dosha? Take this quick quiz and find out. Namaste.

Guilty Pleasure

2008-04-21T15:54:00.005-04:00

I read recently that a good line to use when meeting someone for the first time is "what's the most embarrassing song in your Ipod?" I'm not sure about that, but the question made me ponder what I had in my Ipod.

My current response to the question, hands down, is currently Miley Cyrus's "See You Again." I discovered it this weekend when I was trawling the apple store looking for new running songs, and since then have listened to it running down the East River, commuting around town on Sunday, and before Court this morning to psyche myself up. Yes, it's by a girl half my age. Yes, she has a show on the Disney Channel. Yes, I'm pretty sure she lifted the main base line from the 80s classic "I wear my sunglasses at night" (she didn't know! she wasn't born then).

Despite all of that, the song is unequivocally awesome. I dare any of you to listen to the song and tell me otherwise.

Here's a snippet of the lyrics:

The last time I freaked out, I just kept lookin down
I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I'm thinkin bout
Felt like I couldn't breathe
You asked what's wrong with me
My best friend Leslie said, Oh she's just being Miley
The next time we hang out, I will redeem myself
My heart can't rest til then
I can't wait to see you again

You really can't get the full effect without listening, so take a listen. It's addictive.

Commute Enhancing

2008-04-16T10:42:00.006-04:00

Many months ago, my friend Simone bought me the book You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise Hay. The book, in the vein of The Secret, but more practical and how-to oriented, is about the power of your thoughts to create your future - the power of thoughts to create your reality. It starts with recognizing negative thought patterns, moves to identifying where the negative thought patterns and beliefs came from, and then moves into how eliminate and release them from your mind.

One of the most interesting aspects of the book to me is the author's conviction that releasing negative thoughts, and replacing them with positive affirmations, can actually heal the body of illness and disease. That idea sounds far out there in a way, but it appeals to me because I do quite strongly believe in the mind-body-spirit connection. It makes sense to me that if your mind is filled with negative thoughts and negative energy (which I felt like my post of yesterday was a bit), those thoughts and energy could impact the health of your body in a negative way. Conversely, if your mind is full of positive energy, it seems eminently sensical that the energy could have a positive effect on your body, whether its boosting your immune system or creating more dramatic types of healing.

When Simone bought me the book, I was genuinely interested in reading it, and I had a sense that messages that I was ready to hear and learn awaited me in the book's pages. But, life, work, and relationships all proved distracting (sometimes pleasantly so, sometimes stressfully). In my moments of free time, instead of picking up You Can Heal Your Life, I found myself gravitating towards other books, mainly in the contemporary fiction genre, like Wind Up Bird Chronicles and Kafka On The Shore (both of which I really liked, and would recommend).

A few days ago, however, I had a brilliant idea: Buy the book on tape! Or, more precisely, buy the DVD of the book, and download it onto my Ipod. Really, I have to give Bacchus some of the credit for this brilliance because, for Christmas, one of the things he asked for were books on tape. He's very busy with his work and spends a lot of time in the car, and wanted to use that time in productive, mentally-enriching way (or, maybe he just wanted to read Ulysses). I thought it was cute of him, but didn't think to apply it to me, because I really enjoy the act of holding a book and reading it. That's how I like to experience books.

"Self-Help" books are different than novels and other types of books. Novels, I like to escape into. I like to fully absorb them and allow them to fully absorb me. With self-help books, you're not escaping into a different world, you're opening yourself to listen to lessons, messages, and tips - things that, I have found, are sometimes better in small doses. Hence, listening to them in small pieces on the way to work, on the subway, and waiting in line at Starbuck's all work perfectly! (Btw, I don't really like the "self-help" term, and I'm not sure if it's the most appropriate term. On the other hand, any books trying to help you grow as a person are, at their core, about helping you help yourself, so maybe it is an accurate term?).

The last two mornings, I've really enjoyed my walking-subway-in-line-for-coffee commute listening to You Can Heal Your Life. I'm about half way through and I'm finding the book full of useful information and positive, self-affirming messages. I'm really excited about the book, and I'm super excited about this "new" way of using my Ipod and making the most of my morning commute.

Cascade of Events

2008-04-15T12:29:00.006-04:00

A cascade of unfortunate events, that's how I would describe the last month and a half. It started with the Italian Man - after 3 relatively terrific months (and fantastic sex) - flaking out and me breaking things off with him. Great sex and getting wined and dined and driven all over New York were fun, but, in the end, they were not worth me sacrificing my self-respect (obviously), so I had to give him the figurative boot.

Even though it was ultimately my decision to end it, it was still a little disappointing because - up until the point where he showed a side of himself that I had not seen before - I had really started to like him. I guess that's why we date though, to come to know people over time, and to learn more about what we want and need out of a partner, and what we want out of ourselves.

While that situation was playing itself out, I came down with MRSA, a staff infection resistant to normal antibiotics that is apparently raging through the gyms and public transportation systems of New York right at this very moment. (Watch out!). After a series of doctors, I finally found an infectious disease doctor who diagnosed me correctly and prescribed me with super sulphur-based antibiotics to combat the MRSA. Things seemed to be looking up. It turns out, however, that I'm allergic to sulphur-based antibiotics, and as a result, I had a rather extreme allergic reaction to the antibiotics which lasted for almost a week (because I had no idea I was feeling so gravely ill from the antibiotics - I thought it was the MRSA). By day 5 on the pills, I was so sick -- from days of fever, chills, a constant headache, no appetite, and physical exhaustion -- that I felt too weak to roll over in my bed to have a drink of water.

Thankfully, I had done some research on the web on allergic reactions to sulphur and by day 5 got suspicious enough so that I stopped taking the medicine. Within 24 18 hours of taking the last pill, I -- almost immediately -- started feeling remarkably better. It was kind of amazing how quickly I started to improve once the medicine started to clear out of my system. My infectious disease doctor, when I finally was able to reach him, confirmed that I was having an allergic reaction, applauded me for stopping the medicine, and prescribed new non-sulphur-based antibiotics.

I got better just in time to work like a dog (where does that expression come from? poor dogs) for a few days before leaving for a brief trip to Mexico, which was supposed to be a relaxing, rejuvenating mind-body-spirit vacation. The vacation itself did not live up to my expectations, but I think the real problem was that I had a number of huge deadlines scheduled for the week immediately following my vacation. Thus, I wasn't really able to decompress fully while in Mexico. I found myself walking down the beach, after just checking my blackberry, trying hard not to think about work, but unable to clear my mind. I learned some valuable lessons, of course, such as the importance of not scheduling anything, if you can help it, for the week after your vacation. It almost totally defeats the purpose getting away, when you're unable to mentally get away because of what's looming on the horizon.

Since coming back from Mexico on the 4th, I've been working non-stop, around the clock. Although I had expected things to be busy, I had no idea just how intense work was going to be. Twelve days without a break is not fun, let me tell you. Walking through the office at midnight the other night, glancing out the window at the twinkling buildings, I was suddenly brought back to a year ago, at my old firm, when late nights were the norm. It was not a pleasant memory, and I most certainly do not want late nights to become a norm once again. It's also hard feeling so disconnected; from friends, from myself. When I go through those phases, where it's work and work alone 24/7, all of the other things that make up my life - the things that matter in my life - fade away into the background and lose them, temporarily. I lose touch with my life.

As you can tell by this post, now I have a bit of a break. I finished a huge project yesterday afternoon and went to therapy for the first time in weeks. I caught up with a few friends and family members over the phone, and am now catching up through writing this. I'm going to Swedish class tonight for the first time in weeks, and aim to go to they gym tomorrow night - again, for the first time in weeks (more like months). I'm crawling out of the cocoon, as it were, bit by bit. Cocoon is really not an accurate metaphor. Swirling sandstorm of chaos filled with asteroids and other dangerous objects would be a better one. Deep, dark pit also comes to mind.

In any event, where ever it is that I've been, I've started climbing out of it. Yay! Here's to hoping the end of the week brings more sleep, friends, connections, and better health (for me, and all of you). Cheers.

Absolut Says "Bite Me" America

2008-04-08T11:41:00.007-04:00

Oh, you crazy Swedes, now you've gone and done it. With your off-kilter sense of humor you went from vodka to immigration and allegations of anti-US sentiments in 1.2 seconds flat. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to mix stiff drinks with politics?

It's very amusing to me that Absolute picked Mexico as the focus of its ad. Seems like they could have picked just about anyone who has lost in history and plucked on their nationalistic heart strings: The Aztecs before the Spaniards; Native Americans before the Europeans; Palestinians before Israel; Israelites before the Diaspora; Russia before the end of the Cold War; Vietnamese before the Vietnam War; Koreans before the Korean War; Pakistanis and Indians before the British; Africans before cololialism; and the list goes on and on. And let's not forget the Vikings before they calmed their sea-faring ways.

I don't believe for a minute that the Swedes are conducting a not-so-covert advertising blitz aimed at encouraging Mexican nationalism and drumming up anti-US sentiments. Probably, someone at Absolut just came back from vacation in Tulum where they fell in love with Mexico and happend to pick up an inspiring old map of the region. History is interesting, after all. I for one have an old map on my wall of centuries ago when the Swedes ruled huge sections of Denmark and Norway (Go Swedes!).

Some things really should not be taken so seriously. I mean, really, don't the people worried about the US's reputation have bigger things to worry about? Isn't there a war going on?

Maya Tulum, Maybe Not

2008-04-07T13:28:00.005-04:00

For anyone out there considering a "mind, body, spirit" vacation at Maya Tulum, down in Tulum, Mexico, I would advise you to reconsider. Having just come back from Maya Tulum, I can report that the beach and facilities were great, but the mind, body, spirit program left a lot to be desired - mainly because, with the exception of two mediocre yoga classes a day that left me more annoyed than relaxed, there was no "program" of which to speak. It was more like a regular old resort than a wellness program.

In addition, the place was managed very poorly. The general manager told us he had just fired a large group of his staff, so it's possible Maya Tulum was just having a bad week. That might explain the waiters that could not understand our orders, the long delays in getting served at meals, and the general lack of organization. It does not, however, explain the lack of seamless-ness that characterized my experience there. For example - this is a small but telling detail - breakfast was not served until 8 am each morning, the same time as the morning yoga class began. That meant that each morning you had to think about when you were going to eat, because it hadn't been organized sensibly beforehand.

When you go on vacation - particularly one you intend to be a wellness vacation - you don't want to worry about anything. You want to lay back, do you your yoga, and revel in positive energy. When things run seamlessly, you don't have to think about anything other than how beautiful the water is, and whether you want to attempt a head stand in yoga class.

Although I still had a wonderful time despite some of the sub par elements, I would not recommend Maya Tulum. It pales in comparison to last year's Bikini Boot Camp at Amansala, a place I would unequivocally endorse which left me feeling mental, physically, and spiritually rejuvenated (and totally blissed out). I do have to give props to one thing at Maya Tulum, which rocked over Amansala: the spa services. Fabian, Leo, and Sergio rocked my world in terms of providing fantastic drool-worthy massages and body treatments. I've been missing them big time since returning to my hunched-over office quarters.

I would suggest staying at Amansala and then walking down the beach for a few body treatments at Maya Tulum during your vacation. Also, stick with the male masseuses. Sorry lovelies, but unless you know the woman you're getting can channel some serious strength, and assuming you like a firm, hard rub-down (and who doesn't), I would say the male masseuses are a safer bet than the women.

Decluttering Obstacles

2008-04-06T19:19:00.003-04:00

I'm hunkered down in my office, where I've been since returning from Mexico on Thursday, working on a deposition outline. It's slow going. Compiling my potential exhibits and drafting my questions is like wading through molasses. I have to keep reminding myself that, come Wednesday, life will once again return to a state of relative calm. Relative being the operative word, because actually April is shaping up to be a rather busy work month. Rather too busy for my tastes, I must say.

Oddly, the major thing I wish I was doing right now, instead of sitting in my office, is working on my room. About a month ago, I was suddenly hit with the all-encompassing desire to finally, once and for all, organize my existence. I had made valiant efforts at cleaning up the clutter in the past - purging - but they had been short-lived and stunted in terms of the scope of my goals. It's like, prior to a month or so ago, I couldn't really see the clutter that was surrounding me. It didn't bother me. I saw it as a positive personality trait: I was laid back, not anal, able to exist and focus in the midst of seeming chaos.

But, then a flip switched. I confess that I think it happened in part after I spent some time at the Italian Man's place. His place was so perfectly ordered and quite beautiful. His bathroom was sparkling and spotless, his kitchen was bright and airy, his bedroom was minimalist (the bed was - not surprisingly - the height of comfort). All of his furniture was nice wood, not a scrape in sight, and his apartment was decorated with striking pieces of art. In short, his apartment was put together and adult. It also was inviting and had nice energy. When I went over there the first time, I couldn't get over how nice it was, and I felt a little like a kid playing dress-up - pretending I was an adult in such an adult environment.

Then I started thinking of my place, and how, for the past two years, I had been living temporary states of limbo, first after I moved in to EXBF's place and had to give up my gorgeous studio and put most of my things in storage, and then after I moved in to my current place under an illegal sublet situation. In the beginning of March, my living situation changed for the better. I got to stay in my place as a legal tenant and because of how everything worked out, the management company loves me. Always good to have the management company on your side. In short order, I had the management company fix my shower and take care of the mouse that had been plaguing my existence. And then, just in time for Spring Cleaning, I threw myself in to ripping out the old, spackling, and painting (as some of you saw in my partial before and after pictures).

Since that switch flipped, it's all I've been thinking about. I've opted to forego drinks in favor of staying home and working on my IKEA wardrobe. Walking down the beach in Mexico, I felt a compulsion to be back home, getting my things in order. Last night, I dreamt about my furniture and how I'm going to organize my t-shirts and work shirts. And, now, today, while I should be focusing on this massive project I need to get done asap, I'm twitching in agitation, wishing I was back at home sorting my belongings into "keep," "toss," and "goodwill" piles. Twitching in agitation. I'm obsessed.

I have an obsession and work is keeping me from it. I feel like I'm chomping on a bit and can't go anywhere. On a positive note, I have made a lot of progress, and when I'm all done, I believe I will have transformed not only my physical space, but also at least part of my mental space. I think that's why I'm so obsessed. The curtains have parted and suddenly all I can see is how essential it is to make my environment mirror the calm I want in my mind. It's kind of cool - and very uncharacteristic of me - be obsessed about this. I'm excited by it.

Now, if only I didn't have to do this work... I have important things to do!

Canaries In The Caves

2008-03-25T11:34:00.006-04:00

According to the New York Times, something mysterious is causing bats to die off by the thousands. Bats, who are supposed to hibernate during the winter and stay safe in their caves during the day time, have been spotted flying out of their caves in daylight, and even during snowstorms, only to fall to ground and die. Many of them are covered by a white fungus that biologists think might be a secondary effect of whatever is causing the deaths. In one cave, the population dropped from over 15,000 bats to 1,500 bats in approximately 2 years.

Bats dying is bad news for humans. Bats eat insects, and without them chowing down it's probable that insect infestations could cause big problems for humans, not just at dusk on summer nights, but to some of our major food sources. The ecosystem is so complex, there are also a myriad other consequences of a potential bat extinction of which we are not even aware. What I find even more disturbing than all of that is what the (potential) mass extinction of any species says about the health - or lack thereof- of our ecosystem, the one we live in with the bats. If things are out of balance, if there are new predators out there that are causing mass extinctions to one species, it's only a matter of time before we are affected.

Take for example the case of CA MRSA, a virulent staph bacteria that can lead to death in 1 out of 5 cases, resistant to most normal antibiotics, that used to affect only hospital patients, but is now loose in the public, affecting unsuspecting Manhattanites, among others. I have no idea how I got it, but I've realized - and become quite freaked out - by how many possible ways I might have caught it: holding the subway rail, shaking someone's hand, patting someone's arm, taking change after making a purchase, opening a door, using gym machines, etc. If you think about how many times during the course of your day you encounter someone else's skin, or an object just recently touched by someone else's skin, you start to see all the possible ways you could pick up some nasty little bacteria - regardless of how hygienic and careful you are.

As I'm still radioactive, in addition to protecting myself from new infusions of germs, I've also had to make efforts to protect my friends and work colleagues from my germs. It's been such a surprise to me how often I now have to stifle the urge to touch my friends. It turns out that I'm rather touchy-feely. I hug my friends when I see them, when I leave them, I pat them on their arms, and they do the same. Of course, now that I'm a pseudo-leper, I have to maintain my distance. I douse my hands in hand sanitizer that I keep next to my computer any time I touch something "new," and I offer my friends handi-wipes when they leave my office in the event that they have to open the door by turning the handle. Being full of germs is no fun, nor is being a germaphobe, but I'm having to deal with the former, and I think I might become the latter, as survival tool. I have no interest, whatsover, in catching MRSA again, or anything else for that matter.

But, back to the bats. Unlike us humans, they don't have handy bottles of purel that they can douse their wings with hanging from the stalactites of their caves. They don't have protection from the new micro-predators, an example of which is AC MRSA, that are developing at alarming rates, some of which, studies indicate, we humans have created with all of our anti-bacterial soups and lotions and antibiotic fed cows. Is there a direct connection? I don't know. But the fate of the bats (not to mention the fate of bees, who have been mysteriously disappearing) is certainly connected to our own fate.

Reading the article made me think of Oryx and Crake, one of my favorite books, in which one species after another died off, and humans - the ones who could afford it - were forced to move off of the toxic, barely inhabitable surface of Earth into sterile corporate space pods, leaving behind the poorer humans to scavenge among the refuse. In the book, before humans were forced to leave Earth, before things got really bad, species started to die off, and kids played a computer game based on betting which species would become extinct next.

The animals are the canaries in the coal mine. If they go, we're next.

Before & After: Bath and Bed

2008-03-23T22:16:00.015-04:00

In the last week - especially concentrated into the last 48 hours - I've put together four pieces of IKEA furniture, hung a wall cabinet and two mirrors, and painted my bathroom and a third of my bedroom. Lord knows I love the Swedes. They are my countrywomen after all. But, I can't tell you how happy I'm going to be once I never have to look at another one of their funny shaped "special IKEA" screws again (which, by the way, get stripped if you try to screw them in with a drill, get stuck and cause you to lose about a half hour trying to coax them out).

Although a productive Easter, I would not voluntarily repeat the experience next year. I much prefer the soothing ritual of egg-dying and snacking on mini eggos over forcing 9 feet long pieces of stubborn wood to form themselves into reluctant rectangles. But that was the crux of it: with all those boxes of pieces waiting to be assembled and walls waiting to be painted, there was no time for egg-dying. I'm so tired! And sore. Really, really sore.

Something positive, however, in addition to my new furniture, came out of the experience: Before & After pics! Who doesn't love a good make-over? Unfortunately, I still have 3/4 of my room to paint and half a wardrobe to put together because IKEA forgot to ship me all of the necessary hardware, so things are not quite perfect enough to give you the full "after" effect in both the bedroom and bathroom, but I can show you some tidbits.

Behold, one corner of the bathroom, before & after: Note the vast improvement a paint job, cabinets from Bed Bath & Beyond, and a black wicker basket can make on a girl's space for products.

Because the closet/wardrobe is still in progress (code for: lying in inconvenient pieces all over my bedroom), I can't show you that just yet. I can, however, show you my bed.

Behold, BC's bed, before & after:

I don't think the pictures do it justice, but the difference - to me - is remarkable. The transformative effects of a bed frame, as opposed to the hideous metal box spring support I've been laying on top of for the last 12 years can not be over emphasized.

Three times today, in between battling the wardrobe, I found myself drawn to my bed, fluffing up the pillows, and just laying back against my headboard, taking a load off. I never used to do that when all I had behind my head was a book shelf. I've decided I love headboards. They're my new favorite things, along with swiss coffee colored walls (I was so unbelievably sick of that lilac color).

By the way, the inexplicable something, which is considerably improved on Day-4 of what will be a 10-day course of super antibiotics, has a name. It's called CA MRSA, and it's probably in a gym or on public transportation near you, so look out!

Inexplicable Something

2008-03-19T17:16:00.002-04:00

I am dying today as a result of some crazy systemic bacterial infection that I appear to have picked up god knows where. It started on my hand, then my foot, and now the inside of my leg. Attractive, no?

It's alarming and slightly scary because I don't know what it is, but the most disturbing and incredibly irritating part of it is that it itches like nothing I have ever felt before. O. M. G. I have often thought that itchiness would be worse torture than pain - although that might just be because, thankfully, I seem to encounter itchiness more than intense pain. Be that as it may, I Can Not Stand Itchiness. It's terrible. I woke up every few hours last night wanting to claw my foot off.

Because my primary care physician can not crack the case, I'm off to see an infectious disease doctor. Is this not crazy? My primary care physician asked me yesterday if I had "been anywhere exotic," and the only place that came to mind was India almost a year ago. It's funny that people always assume inexplicable things are picked up abroad - and in many cases they are - but what about the subway? What about the millions of people clutching the same metal poles that I clutch, breathing into the same tight spaces that I'm smashed into, wiping their noses and coughing and no one washing their hands or covering their mouths?

Obviously, I've started carrying purel everywhere I go. It hasn't done anything for the thing I've got, but hopefully it will prevent me picking up anything else.

This is terrible! (I say, even though I know it could be worse, and - trust me universe - am very grateful that it's not).

Patience Is Not My Virtue

2008-03-06T12:24:00.003-05:00

I've been thinking a lot today about patience, and contemplating whether I'm a patient person. In general, I think I am fairly patient. When I'm waiting on people to do things during the course of my day, I don't get impatient or snappy. I try to understand where people are coming from, and go with the flow as much as I can. I don't expect things to be done instantly for my benefit, don't take things personally, don't jump to assumptions, and generally remain pretty even-keel.

All of that goes out the window when it comes to relationships. I do not like existing in a state of uncertainty. It freaks me out. I want to know the status of things, how I feel, how they feel, and I want to know it all right now. I don't like waiting. I really don't like waiting for communication. It's annoying and aggravating and despite myself, it eats and eats at me. I don't feel that I should have to wait, so I try not to wait. I go about my day, which is busy and filled with tons of things, and I tell myself I am not waiting. My hairdresser says, "Don't wait" like it's as easy as switching off a light switch, and I commit myself to not waiting. But, I do. That's the part that really, really irks me, that gets under my skin and squeezes my chest in a miniature vice grip. It also pisses me off at myself.

I say to my Self, "Self, do not wait. Do not care."

And my Self replies, "But I do care, and I am waiting."

And, I respond, "God damn it. Why do you have to be so freaking honest all the time?"

The other night, I picked up one of my old journals at random and started reading. I have no cable or TV at the moment, so I've had to go to alternative means to entertain myself. The journal was from 1998, in my senior year of college, when I had just come back from studying abroad and being "long distance" with my boyfriend. This is the guy that I ultimately broke up with a year after college and then for years later remembered only the great things about him and our relationship. I used him as a comparison to other boyfriends and found them wanting. In between relationships, and sometimes during, I kicked myself for throwing away something which had been "wonderful." When it came up in therapy years later, I couldn't remember why I had ever broken up with him.

My journal explained it. It's filled with entries over the course of several months starting off with, "Kai and I had another fight last night." Back then, my 21-year old self was super annoyed with Kai because he was insecure and clingy, but also acting out by not calling her. Do you know how my 21-year old self reacted to Kai not calling her? She didn't react. She noted it, got pissed about it, and then went about her way basically with an attitude of "oh well, it's his loss." She was awesome.

The same journal entries that talk about how Kai did not call the day before and probably would not call again that day because he's so annoying and predictable, mention those facts in passing and then go on to list everything else that I was focusing on at the time, like studying, working, seeing my friends, and participating on various committees. At the time, I clearly was into Kai, and I clearly wanted him to call me. His lack of calling left me feeling a little hurt and lonely, but not in an overpowering way. It was something I took note of and didn't like, but I didn't take it personally. I'm not sure I would say that my younger self was more patient. I just think she was like, "whatever, it's Kai's issue, not mine." She had things to do, and she did them while letting the saga of their relationship play out over time.

One time, Kai tried to break up with me. I remember it distinctly. We were sitting on the porch swing outside of my house. He was tense and fidgety and he was refusing to look me in the eyes. He said, quite dramatically, that he wanted to break up with me. I responded, "Kai, don't be ridiculous. You don't want to break up with me, and we're not breaking up." I was 100% convinced of Kai's love for me, and I was 100% convinced that he was trying to break up with me, not because he didn't want to be with me, but because he was scared and trying to make a self-protective preemptive strike. Silly Rabbit. He seemed so transparent and insecure to me back then. It was touching. We didn't break up until a year later, when I decided that I wanted to date other people and broke up with him.

Back then, my actions were not at all based on fear. It's questionable whether they were based on love. They were definitely based on certainty, confidence, and an absolute conviction in my own power of self-determination. I was patient because I didn't feel anxious, so I could afford to be patient. I felt completely in control. I had time to let things develop and I didn't gnaw apart my stomach waiting for things to happen. I didn't gnaw. I didn't wait. I observed, took care of what I needed to, and trusted that Kai would come around and that everything would work out for the best (in my favor) in the end.

Now, if someone "tried" to break up with me, I would be out the door so fast I wouldn't even hear it swinging shut behind me. I feel sometimes like I'm sitting on a tiny tree branch, my wings half extended in the air, ready at a moments notice to take flight. I've become the self-protective one, though I battle this and try to be honest and upfront with my feelings. I'm so much more open and vulnerable now than I ever was then, but with vulnerability comes that sense of being gnawed apart from the inside out. Vulnerability brings with it desires and expectations, feelings of disappointment and insecurity, and anxiety. It also brings with it impatience, impatience to end the feeling of vulnerability.

My 21-year old self did not feel impatient because she did not feel vulnerable. She was strong, confident and impervious to pain. She was also emotionally detached, critical and judgmental, and lacking in empathy. Insecurity in anyone used to repulse her. Between the two of us, I'd have to say that I like the more developed, mature, and sensitive me of today, then my college-age self. Clearly, however, I could take a few pages from her book now and then. Today, I think I will channel her confidence and certainty.

A boy not calling is indeed annoying, but it's about him and not me, and I have better things to do than to wait on him. Instead, I'll push it out of my mind, keep it confined to the words in this post, and move on. Things will ultimately work out as they are meant to.

Hillary and Obama Together?

2008-03-05T15:33:00.002-05:00

I'm somewhat stunned, and pleasantly so, that Hillary came back and won Ohio and Texas. I'm happy for her that she's not out of the race and I'm happy for Obama that he won Vermont and still has small lead in terms delegate numbers. As things now stand, I would be disappointed if either one of them failed to get the nomination.

Obviously they both can't get the nomination, but how great would it be if they could both be on the ticket? Hillary hinted at a joint ticket earlier today. Obama responded by saying she was a "tenacious" opponent and that it was too early to start thinking about joint tickets.

If they did a joint ticket, I would be thrilled, although I'm not sure who I would want as President and who as V.P. I could go either way on that because I think it's clear that in such a scenario we would be looking at a very close-knit President-V.P. team. Of course, someone has to have the last word, and that would be the President, so I guess it comes down to who I would want to have the last word? Again, it's a draw. I like them both and I want them both to lead the country.

The big question for me is could they, on a joint ticket, beat McCaine? Or, do both of them - standing alone or together - need an infusion of something different (i.e. something more conservative) in order to beat the Republicans?

Decluttering Work: Pre-March Purging Begins!

2008-02-26T15:58:00.005-05:00

It's still February, but I've jumped the gun and started my Month of March Purging a few days early by cleaning and decluttering my office. It had finally become too unbearable to go on with out taking some serious action. I couldn't exist any longer with a pile of papers and opened binders two and a half feet high on my desk, obstructing my view of the door and quite literally burying me alive.

With that kind of disorganization, is it any wonder that I had been feeling increasingly stressed about work during the past couple weeks? My work energy was probably stagnating, zipping back and forth between carelessly strewn papers like a thousand little pin balls with no place productive to go, dragged down under the stifling weight of piles of half thoughts and thwarted intentions.

In a two-and-a-half hour whirlwind of post lunch activity, I sent boxes of documents to files, trashed unnecessary materials, organized my cabinets and shelves, put papers in folders, and had my secretary make the all-essential redweld labels. Labels are crucial. I don't think I'm overstating their power when I say that labels can change your world. It's true.

The crowning achievement was moving my poor little, slightly sickly, but hardy bamboo plant out from its dark corner behind my desk top monitor over to the windowsill. The poor little plant had started to take on the aura of an animal trapped in a cage no bigger than the length and width of its body - it too had been stagnating, just like my work energy, only I hadn't seen it, blinded as I had been by the overwhelming piles of paper.

Both the plant and I are going to be much happier now at work. I can already feel it. My whole office feels more spacious, the floor is clear of debris, and the little plant has an unobstructed view of the Empire State Building and the chance for hours and hours of delightfully direct sunlight. Splendid. Now, let's see if I can keep my office decluttered at least through the end of March. It would be an amazing feat but I feel strong, focused, and motivated.

Must be all that energy I just set free.

Spring Cleaning Is Coming

2008-02-25T15:16:00.002-05:00

Change is happening. I don't know if it has to do with the cosmos or some internal force. It feels though like I'm embarking upon some kind of Phase II in terms of life transformation, life transformation being perhaps too strong of a description. Life tweaking is probably more fitting. This time, it's not about purging my life of negativity or massively changing my daily existence, because I'm actually quite happy with how things are at the moment, and have been for some time.

It's more that I find myself - it feels like suddenly, although I'm sure this has been developing over time - with what feels like (though it's all relative) tons and tons of space in which to explore things and do things that I hadn't even considered before. I have space in terms of time, but I also have mental and emotional space, which is really cool.

All of this space in which to contemplate has lead me to a decision that might not appear all that significant, but which I am really excited about and think will have a rather profoundly positive impact on me.

I've decided that March is going to be a Month of Purging. It's perfect for a number of reasons. First, because my living situation is changing such that there will be a new beginning which will require and allow me to buy new furniture, paint, and explore the wide world of organizational containers and tricks - things for which I do not have a natural affinity. Second, because it will soon be Spring, and in preparation a large scale Spring Cleaning is just the thing to do. Third, I have boxes and piles of things, drawers full of products, thoughts in my head, and old patterns of behavior that I no longer need, and want to get rid off.

It's going to be a month of physical, spiritual and emotional purging, and I think I'm going to write a post each day describing one act of purging.

Anyone else up for a little Spring cleaning?

SATC Movie Trailer

2008-02-22T11:14:00.003-05:00

I just saw the Sex and the City Trailer here (from Jezabel), and I'm not sure I'm overly thrilled, although I'm attempting to remain optimistic. It appears that Steve might have cheated on Miranda (but just once, as if that would ever make it ok), Big and Carrie's wedding gets all snafu-ed, Samantha leaves Smith (gasp!), and Charlotte, the mom of an adorable little adopted Asian daughter, becomes pregnant.

The whole Carrie/Big wedding snafu plot is a little tired. Didn't we just see that on Gray's Anatomy with Christina and Burke? It's also not very realistic - not that I would ever hold SATC to maintaining a consistent level of realism - given the length and intensity of the pair's tortured love affair, and the way it was resolved at the end of the last season with Big racing to Paris to profess his love to Carrie. They love each other, they want each other; would Carrie really mess that up by becoming a bridezilla? Maybe, but what is more likely is that Big's commitment issues resurface.

I also don't necessarily buy that Steve would ever cheat on Miranda. She's never been my favorite, maybe because I'm a lawyer and I don't like the strong-woman-doesn't-want-to-be-a-mom-lawyer stereotype that she represents (my issues, not hers, and I'll save them for another time). I also never thought she was attractive, which I know is a very shallow thing to say. I'm not saying Cynthia Nixon is not attractive, but the way they styled her at times was simply hideous. As a character as a whole, I just never got the appeal. Steve, on the other hand, always seemed completely smitten by Miranda, so the idea that they would settle down, move to Brooklyn, be living the nuclear family dream, and then he would cheat doesn't ring true. On the other hand, they had their fair share of problems too so maybe some of them festered. We shall see. If Steve did cheat, I hope that Miranda dumps him on his ass and moves back to the City.

Samantha... Well, I don't have all that much to say about Samantha, in part because the trailer didn't give us a lot of hints about her part of the story. We see her with Smith in the bathroom, and then later we see her checking out a lot of men. Maybe she's with Smith, maybe she's not. Apparently she's still thinking about sex a lot, and apparently she's cancer free, which is good.

Charlotte has always been my absolute favorite. I love her. She's romantic, sweet, and classy. I noticed the trailer gave us glimpses of her daughter and glimpses of her pregnant belly, but Harry was no where in sight. I'll be pissed if Harry is no longer with Charlotte.

Regardless of the plot, I'm looking forward to this movie as another opportunity to revel in SATC. It's going to be like an extra, extra-long last episode, and even if it's not smashing, it's still going to be thoroughly entertaining. Hopefully the movie - although the trailer makes me wonder about this - will not destroy all the happy endings that the season finale left us with. So many people hold a view that the girls should not have all ended up "happily ever after," all with significant others. I vehemently disagree. That's what they wanted, and that's what they got. What's wrong with letting women get what they want? Personally, I'm all about love triumphing. If that's not what it's about, what's the point?

Who Will Cook: Part II

2008-02-20T15:13:00.002-05:00

This topic, that I've recently begun thinking about with more specificity, what shall I call it? What tag does this fall under? I'd prefer not to name it "Gender-Wars" as I would hope that the exploration of these issues would not have to be tinged with a confrontational tone. "Parenting" isn't quite right, because cooking dinner, though arguably part of parenting, is much broader than that. It has to do with the division of household labor/nurturing/care-taking between a couple, something which could come up in a couple living together (I suppose), but seems to really crystallize as an issue to be dealt with once children get tossed in to the mix.

"Gender" is too vague, and also almost a red herring, because although gender has lots to do with this, it just as easily could have nothing to do with it. And, call me naive, but I'd like gender to have a very limited role here. I'd like, in my relationship if I were to have children, for the division of labor not to be about fixed gender roles but rather about the individual people in question and their needs and wants. I'd like the division of labor to take into consideration questions like, who is more suited to cook, who knows how to cook and who doesn't, who would like to stay at home or work outsidef of the home and why and what would that look like, what do the individuals care about and what do they want to pursue in terms of their professional goals, and how can the division of labor incorporate those goals? (I say this, but I also feel the way I just framed it sounds far too rigid, artificial, and formulaic than I would like it to be).

In other words, I'd like the division of labor, to the extent it occurs, to be tailored around the specific needs and desires of the individuals involved, and not based on any fixed notions of what's expected from one as a result of their gender. That's the basic problem with gender roles - they obscure the individual beneath a cloak of societal expectations based on the shape one's genitals, and in so doing often - mainly with respect to women - work to limit the ability of the individual to realize their full potential as happy, fulfilled human beings.

The starting point of the question should not be: You are a woman, so I expect you to do "X". The starting point should be: How can we balance things so that we are both happy and fulfilled individuals? The bottom line is that I'm going to be a good mother, and my partner will be a good father, if we are happy with ourselves and our relationship. If I'm happy working outside of the home full time or part time or not, and vise versa, as long as I'm happy, I will be a great mom. If, however, I'm not happy, my kids will feel that and they won't be happy either, not to mention my partner. There are so many uncertainties in relationships, but I think one thing is certain - a relationship will not be healthy and successful unless both parties to the relationship are happy and fulfilled.

I know that a couple can agree on many things ahead of time and think it's extremely important to discuss these types of issues early on in a relationship - if for no other reason than that it helps you grow and deepen your own thoughts on these issues. But, the only thing you know for sure is that change will happen, and as a friend of mine was saying, about the only thing you can do is work on being flexible, trusting, and good at communicating. You can't plan everything out (although that would be nice), but you can commit to solving together the many unforeseen issues that will undoubtedly arise. It's all about being a united front with both people having each other's back and supporting one another, and committing to that for the future.

Sounds fabulous, I know, but it still leaves the question that started all of this hanging out unanswered in the ether. Who will cook? I still don't know.

Who Is Going To Cook?

2008-02-19T15:25:00.004-05:00

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to have children at some unspecific point in the distant but not too distant future. Also for as long as I can remember, I've been aware that I had no idea how logistically it was all going to work out. I've always wanted to have children while I was "young," and many years ago I imagined I would have been married with 4 children by now. It's laughable in a cute way, this idea that we can plan with such specificity our fates, and the timelines by which they will materialize.

From my wiser vantage point at 33, I can't imagine having children now, let alone 6 years ago. It's incredible to imagine myself as a mother with a six-year old. What kind of person would I be now? Would I be sitting at this desk in this law firm? Living in New York? Feeling delighted about the most perfect purple bag that I purchased a week ago with my cousin on a perfect shopping day? Be dating the man I'm currently dating?

Probably not. Or, perhaps if all those things were destined to happen, perhaps they would have happened regardless. In any event, I think there is no doubt that I would be quite different in certain respects, such as how I spend the majority of my time, the thoughts that take up space in my head, my plans for the future. I'm under the impression that having a little creature depend on you for their existence is a fundamentally life-altering experience. One that turns the world colors, to be sure, but a colorful existence is not all rose-tinted and purple sparkles. It also includes slashes of flourescent organge and splashes of mule-puke green; colors I could do without in my daily existence.

Some things I could do without might include cleaning up after someone other than myself, becuase to be quite honest cleaning up is not my favorite thing to do. Nor, is doing dishes, cooking, or managing a household. Could I do all of those traditionally female jobs? I suppose so. Do I think it's essential that someone do those things? Yes. Would I be happy if they were my primary responsibility? I am not sure, but I have a strong suspicion that the answer is no. I do not want to be placed in a cage, gilded and covered in satin pillows though it may be. I want to be free...

Clearly, there is a certain element of my being that is fluttering around like crazy at the moment, freaking itself out about imaginary shackles that may never materialize, thinking about freedom and liberty and individuality and independence and experiencing flashes of exploding fireworks behind my eyelids at the thought of anyone wanting to imprison any human being - especially ME - into a box with a preordained shape called "woman" that is not me, that is not a woman in the full, whole, human sense of the world, but woman sucked dry of her essence and straightjacketed into a collection of chores men would prefer not to do. I do not want to be straightjacketed into anything. I want to be loved for who I am. Period.

Someone is flipping out and needs to r-e-l-a-x. Someone needs to enjoy the moment and have another conversation about these things before imagining that the pnly current available option in the current scenario is: Housewife. Otherwise known as SAHM. Relax Buttercup, relax. Nothing is preordained; at least not in this department. These are things people discuss. These are things about which compromise is supposed to be reached.

Amidst all the fluttering, I've been challenged - really for the first time - to imagine how exactly I envision raising children. I want a full life that includes a relationship, family, children, friends, me-time, and fulfilling work. By work, I do not mean that I necesarily need to or want to excel at a specific career. Rather, I want to do work that fulfills me, something through which I can be challenged and stimulated mentally, and through which I can contribute to the world. Ideally, that work would be in the area of women's human rights because that is trully what I am passionate about. I don't want that passion to die at some point in the future because I've fallen in love and decided to have babies.

I guess that to the extent I have envisioned things, I've envisoned me being busy, walking down an urban street on my way somewhere, with two little girls with long braids at my side. They are about 6 years old, creative and smart, and so is their mommy (smart and creative - not 6). It's a pictue of a whole woman, who is a mother, but also an individual with passions and goals - passions and goals that I imgine would serve as good examples for her children.

What I do not envision is giving up my passions, staying at home in isolation, devoting 24-7 to the needs of a little human being with no respite, having no time to myself, and suddenly becoming June Cleaver. It's not going to happen. In order for me to become June Cleaver, I would have to do the equivalent of giving myself a lobotomy and replacing my brain with a totally different woman's gray matter. I just don't see it happening.

But, if the woman and the man both want to pursue their passions, and if they both want children, and if the man only wants to contribute 25% to childcare and managing the household, what is a woman to do? How do couple's balance these things? And, why are there so many Stay At Home Dads who experience statying home not as imprisonment, but as liberation? Is it because for SAHDs, it's clear that it was a real choice for them, and that no one forced them to assume a predestined role based on their gender?

To all the SAHM, many of whom are my friends, am I totally off here with this rebellious anxiety? None of the women I know who stay at home, all of whom are wonderful, intelligent, dynammic individuals and incredible moms, would do it unless they wanted to, I believe. So, they must not experience it as imprisonment. Maybe it's because they worked through all of these questions and came to a decision that worked the best for them. I, however, am just on the brink of considering these incredibly complex issues, and haven't the foggiest clue as to how to resolve any of them.

Why I Love NY: Reason #1 (Bagels and Delivery)

2008-02-17T16:14:00.002-05:00

This is not the number one reason I love New York; it's just one of the many reasons I love it. I'm calling it #1 because it dawned on my today, in my slightly hungover state, at 1:20 pm in the afternoon, as I was letting the hot water wash over my face in the shower, waiting for the corner deli to deliver my toasted everything bagel with a slice of melted swiss, tropicana orange juice, and coffee, that it might be fun to keep track of things like that. The random New York city specific things that delight me, from the most simple and mundane to the more extraordinary.

I thought it would be fun to see how many reasons I could post about in a row. Or maybe it wouldn't be in a row, maybe it would just be something I could keep track of. I bet I could get up to 100. Easily. Maybe 1,000? It might be kind of an interesting feature to blog about. On the other hand, I've started blog features before with great expectations, only to let them fade away. There were the posts about goddesses and daily doses of positivity, for example. But, reasons I love New York, a perspective that finds it way in to many of my posts naturally, might actually work. It also fits with the general spirit of the blog: to be present in the now and to enjoy the moment.

At the moment, I'm in New York, I'm being present, and there's a lot to enjoy. So, why not write about it?

Here goes: Reason #1 Why I Love New York:

This morning, I slept late, until almost 1 in the afternoon to be precise. I had woken up earlier because of the strip of bright hazy light shining through the crack in the eggplant-colored curtains, but then rolled over and buried my head beneath my feather-filled pillow and drifted back to sleep. Thankfully, my head didn't hurt, because I had taken a motrin along with a tall glass of water sometime in the early morning hours. I've become such a light weight. Only 2 and a half glasses of wine and I'm done. Well, 2 and a half glasses of wine and staying up until 5 in the morning. Then I'm done.

To be honest, I'm not happy I stayed up until 5 in the morning. It's rather silly and I think I'm too adult for that at this point. Staying up until 5 in the morning really negatively impacts one's ability to maximize the day. I should know; it's 4:32 in the afternoon and I have yet to leave the house. I missed the knitting store's opening hours. Again. I've tried to go three times in a row, the last three days and I've missed open hours by mere minutes each time. I need yarn because I've been wanting to knit. Babies are popping out of all my friends, so any knitting that I would do in the baby blanket genre would have a purpose. It wouldn't be empty knitting, soothing and relaxing, but easily put aside. But, before I can keep my hands busy and my mind calm with stitches, I need some good quality yarn, and for that, my friends, I need to go by the knitting store when it's open. Maybe tomorrow?

Let's go back to 1:30 in the afternoon, after I had my shower, while I was feeling slightly hung over, but thankfully not sick, and Reason #1 Why I Love New York. I thought to myself, as I do when I've had a little bit too much to drink, that the most perfect thing in the world would be an egg and cheese on a toasted bagel with coffee and orange juice. Doing a mental inventory of the kitchen and a quick status check of my relative desire not to cook, I realized my kitchen was lacking bagels, cheese, and milk for my coffee, that I had coffee but in order to make it I would have to clean the pot, and that the orange juice in the fridge was past it's due date. I contemplated getting dressed and starting my day, maybe preparing for a day of shopping, but then instantly dismissed it as fool hardy. I then contemplated throwing on a pair of boots and my jacket over my pajamas and braving the cold to fetch some food. My craving for an egg and cheese and coffee was strong, but the thought of going outside was singularly unappealing.

Then, a moment of brilliance struck. I recalled that the deli on the corner might deliver. A quick search on the internet got me the deli's number and within a minute I was placing my order. 10 minutes later, a delivery man was knocking on the door of my 5th floor walk-up, warm toasted bagel, coffee, OJ, and milk all packed neatly in a brown paper bag. Five minutes after that, I was comfortable ensconsed on the couch, sipping my coffee and enjoying the perfection of my egg and cheese. There honestly is nothing better after a night of over-indulgence.

So, there you have it. Reason #1 Why I Love New York is that with just the effort of a phone call, you can have an egg and cheese and coffee delivered to your door within 10 minutes. It's awesome.

Simplicity

2008-02-15T10:43:00.003-05:00

Despite being still slightly full from the chocolate-covered strawberries that were delivered - to the delight of my coworkers (and me) - to my office yesterday afternoon, today I'm not thinking about hearts or chocolate or even relationships. Instead, I'm thinking about babies and pregnancy.

To be more precise, I'm thinking about all of my friends who are currently in states of pre, post, and not-quite-yet birth. Forefront in my mind is my friend Wood who is past her due date and waiting expectantly for the birth of her second child. Apparently, waiting for an overdue baby is a somewhat trying experience. I've heard talk of castor oil, which just makes me cringe. Wasn't that what people used to give children a spoonful of back in the day for saying a bad word? I talked to her the other day and I asked her how she felt. She said, "Pregnant."

My little sister, about 5 months away from Wood's current condition, is totally different. I asked her if she felt pregnant and she said, "No," and then added with a touch of humor, "I just feel fat." Which, though a very different sentiment than "Pregnant," managed to capture a similar feeling to Wood's comment. They both have been in a sense taken over, at least in body, by the experience of pregnancy - something I gather is unavoidable, and something which kind of freaks me out. Wood's the most even-keel, balanced individual I know - if she's reached the end of her pregnancy rope, I don't think it bodes well for those of us with more limited reserves.

Speaking of freaking out, I finally connected with my friend Simone, who gave birth by herself, with only her boyfriend in attendance, to a little boy on Christmas Day. When she first told me she was planning to give birth on her own, out in a little cottage in a tiny hippy town outside of San Francisco, the first words out of my mouth were, "How far away are you from a hospital?" Giving birth by yourself?? That's a subject worthy of it's own post, and perhaps I'll discuss that at a later time.

But, getting back to my conversations with Simone, she finally told me the whole story of her baby's birth which included lots of blood, pushing, exhaustion, and time alone riding through contractions as her boyfriend slept on a pallet beside her. It also included talk of tearing, the very thought of which makes me nauseous (and afraid). Her intention for her birth was not to view it as a painful experience, but rather to see it as an "intense" experience. For the first 20 minutes of our phone call, she kept describing the birth as "intensely sensational," every time I asked her whether it had been painful. Finally, I asked whether she had screamed during the "intense sensations," and she said, with conviction, "oh yeah." No doubt about it, it was painful.

Pregnancy is one thing, birth is another, but then, after all that the end result is a child. A creature wholly dependant upon you and its father, and looming before you decisions about divisions of labor and how each of you will balance the responsibilities associated with nurturing a new life. I was speaking with a female partner the other day and the topic of maternity leave and women leaving the work force to stay at home with their babies came up. It's funny, in a twisted slightly alarming sort of way, but everytime I think about being forced to stay at home in isolation, just me and a baby, with no adults to talk to, my mind congealing into jello, becoming exhausted from caring for a baby 24-7, I start to get a little feeling of suffocation.

Now, granted, I'm not looking at the picture as a whole and I'm making many assumptions. Certainly, the feeling of suffociation receeds when I imagine the scenario more fluidly, and eliminate the idea of being "forced" to do anything. It also fades away further when I imagine myself surrounded by a good support system, my family, my friends, and a partner.

I'm a whole person with passions and dreams. I have a body and a mind that are my own and that I need to nurture. I'm not at all ready at the moment to sacrifice them for the needs of another creature, which is the definitive fact that tells me I'm quite far away from being ready to have a child.

All of that being said, the female partner that I was talking to yesterday, in response to me talking about suffocation, said: "But, when you have a child, all of that changes instantly and suddenly you can't imagine having had those thoughts. Suddenly, you see colors and realize things were only in black and white before, and you feel that you were put on this earth to have your child." It's quite a powerful sentiment, one shared I think by all the young mothers that I know.

One day hopefully, I'll be among them, but for right now, I'm going to relish this black and white world.

Friends At Work

2008-02-05T13:24:00.000-05:00

I am absolutely, ecstatically delighted because another part of my master plan just clicked in to place. One of my close friends, Essa, who suffered through with me working at my old firm, The Law Firm From Hell, just started working at my new firm! I'm so excited for her that she no longer has to subject herself to that toxic, dismal, soul-crushing environment, and I'm so excited for me because now I have yet another one of my closest friends working with me! Yay!

I love, love, love my new law firm. Eight months in to it and I LOVE IT. Quite a difference from my last firm where, on the first day, I felt as if a piece of me had started to die a slow, miserable, suffocating death. Now, I am literally filled with warm, fuzzy gratitude to my new firm on a regular basis. They saved me from the Law Firm From Hell, they are normal, wonderful human beings, and they have allowed me to work with some of my closest friends. First there was Em, then there was getting to know all of the other awesome associates who work here, and now Essa has joined the crew.

Seriously, what could be better than coming in to work every day and working with your friends? Ok, maybe having a spa vacation with all of your friends would be better than working. But, short of a vacation, working with your friends in a positive environment, in a place where you genuinely feel happy to come to work every day, pretty much takes the cake in terms of a daily working existence.

I'm so happy and grateful at the moment, I'm moved to say: If you are in an unhappy place, get out. CHANGE THINGS. They can be better. A lot better. You won't regret it.

Weekend Redex

2008-02-04T17:22:00.000-05:00

I had a rather self-indulgent weekend that consisted mainly pampering activities on Saturday and wandering through art museums on Sunday. I hadn't intended to be so decadent on Saturday, but it just so happened that a dire need for a manicure and pedicure coincided with the date of a facial I had scheduled weeks ago, so I ended up doing them all on the same day. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon, I must say.

It was funny because the last time I went to have a facial at this place was way back when, just as I was quitting my job and before I left for Mexico and India. The facialist was so cute because she remembered that I had been in the middle of making a number of life changes and wanted updates about how everything had gone and how India had been. I was flattered that she remembered so much, and it was fun catching up with her and hearing about the changes she had been making during the last few months.

Among other things, we talked about how freeing it can be to purge your environment of materials that draw you back into emotional spaces that you have left behind; how purging your space of toxicity impacts you emotional well-being. Fox example, she ended a long tortureous, on-and-off again relationship with a guy approximately 6 months ago, and she still has all these little reminders of him around her apartment like letters and knick-knacks. I suggested tearing the letters up or burning them, and smashing the knick-knacks - all deliciously satisfying, cathartic ways of moving beyond memories of the past. She said she wasn't ready for that yet, but had been thinking about gathering everything up and putting it in a box, just so she wouldn't be involuntarily accosted by memories on a regulatr basis. I told her I thought it was an excellent idea. Purging takes time and you have to do it when it feels right; it can't be forced.

Sunday, I had brunch with my girl friend, Sage, and then checked out the Guggenheim and the Neue Gallery. The Guggenheim has a really cool exhibit by a chinese artist that consists of a pack of 99 life-sized wolves - that look like the real thing - running up a section of the spiral path of the museum. It's cool because you can walk among the wolves and get the sense that you are actually standing in the midst of a pack of real wolves. It was kind of disconcerting, but really cool at the same time. As the exhibit continues, the trail of wolves takes off into the sky and you can actually walk along the path under the pack of wolves, staring up at their bellies and anatomically correct undersides. At the end, it's quite jarring because all of the wolves crash into a clear plexiglas wall and end up in a distorted heap of mangled bodies. The exhibit was supposed to allude to the Berlin Wall and represented the disasters that can occur from pack mentality.

The Neue Gallery is a small gallery that is currently featuring the work of Gustav Klimt, an Austrian artist that I really like whose paintings are intricate, beautiful pieces covered in vibrant colors and bits of goldleaf. In addition to some of his most famous paintings, the Gallery has many personal photographs of Klimt, his family, his models, and fellow artists - all of which were interesting because they give you a sense of who he was and the environment in which he was creating his art. The Gallery is also showing many of Klimt's sketches, many of which depict women in quite scandalous (for that time and arguably for now as well) positions, such as naked and pregnant or with their legs spread touching themselves. Apparently, he shocked Vienna society with his first depiciton of a pregnant belly. Bravo Klimt!

By the way, I also saw "There Will Be Blood." Daniel Day Lewis's performance was fantastic, but thats no surprise because he's wonderful. Stay alive, I will find you! Sorry, momentary Last of the Mohicans' flashback. Anyway, other than him, there is absolutely no reason to see this movie, so spare yourself the pain and cross it off your list. It was ponderous, heavy, depressing, and way too long. If I hadn't been sitting next to a very cute man, I might have been tempted to leave. As it was, I was almost perfectly content, despite the movie.

The only thing marring my sense of tranquility at the moment is a rather massive looming concern about my living situation. The short of it is that I might have to move by the end of February, which for those of you quick with the mental math gives me approximately 3 weeks to find a place, pack, and move. Kind of stressful, no? We shall see. There are a few things up in the air, but I've started to weigh my options. I could fight to stay in the place but it would be a big time-suck filled with negative energy, and I'm not sure I want that kind of drama in my life. In fact, I know I don't. I just don't think it would be worth it. If I don't fight to stay there, I then have to find a new place, which could be really stressful, but could also result in me finding a great place and finally, again, having a place all to myself. How awesome would that be? Awesome. Ah, to be able to decorate the place how I want it, to be rid of furniture that's not mine, to be able to take a bath whenever I want to... all these things could be mine.

If only New York wasn't such a god-awful place in which to look for apartments. Not even the sub-prime disaster that is affecting housing prices all over the United States and impacting world markets has brought prices down in the City.

Hours and Hours

2008-01-30T09:48:00.000-05:00

Wow, I knew it had been a while since I wrote, but I had no idea it had been so long! What have I been up to? Many, many things, I'm sure. I guess the major things that have been absorbing my focus lately have been work, hibernating from the cold, and the new guy that I've been dating.

My fiscal year at work ends January 31st so there has been a big push to "make my hours," a push that will thankfully end this Thursday. Thank the Lord. By "making my hours" I mean racking up the hours I need to qualify for various year-end bench marks. It was rather funny because in the beginning of January I realized my hours were kind of low - something I had not experienced much of at my old firm - and kind of flipped out thinking I had basically done the equivalent of tossing my bonus out the window. But, then, out of the blue, suddenly I was deluged with work, and I've been working steadily since then. I think I'm going to end up making my benchmark and I'm kind of psyched about that.

In the midst of this hours crunch, I travelled to San Francisco over Martin Luther King Day weekend and had a spectacular time staying at The W and exploring the city with my friends. One of the days, my friends and I rented bikes from a store in Fisherman's Wharf and then drove along the coast, over the Golden Gate Bridge, and down in to Sausilito, where we had lunch in a restaurant overlooking the water and homemade ice cream. If you're in San Francisco any time soon, I highly recommend it. It was only $25 per person for the day and so much fun! Plus, good exercise.

On the dating front...so far it's been wonderful. I'm not sure what's going to happen, but for the moment I'm enjoying the experience.

Thanks Wordnerd and Starshine for reminding me that I am loved in the blog world. :)

Hillary Or Obama For President?

2008-01-09T12:09:00.000-05:00

Until recently, I was leaning, as a matter of course, in favor of Hillary for the next President of the United States. It's not because she's a woman, although the idea of a woman finally being elected to lead the country fills me with excitement and a delightful sense of feminist glee. I've been a supporter of hers because she's a smart, progressive feminist who has significant political experience and because I believe she could repair some of the damage that Bush has done to the country, both on the domestic and foreign policy fronts, during his past two terms in office. With Hillary, I feel like I know generally what to expect from her, and I'm confident it will be 1,000 times better than Bush - which, granted, is not saying much because anything short of a right-wing war-monger (wait, that sounds familiar) would be a vast improvement on the current political situation.

I say that I've been leaning towards her "as a matter of course," because, to be honest, until recently I had not been paying all that much attention to how the election process was progressing on a detailed level. I caught a few debates, noted with mild satisfaction that Hillary was leading in many of the polls, was aware that Obama was sparking more and more positive attention, and was comforted by the complete absence of any viable Republican candidate. I was mildly satisfied and a little curious about what the future would hold if we finally elected a woman. But, I was not excited. I was not focused. I had not looked closely at Obama.

Last night, I saw Hillary's speech after her win in New Hampshire and I was underwhelmed. Maybe she was exhausted, but for whatever reason, she failed to inspire me with either words or passion. Her eyes were so lacking in intensity, she almost looked drugged. She smiled and pumped her arms a few times, but overall, looking at her body language, she was singularly uninspiring. I don't remember anything about what she said other than that she was "grateful" and that in New Hampshire she had "found her voice."

That brought me to a screeching halt. I'm all about women finding their voices, but I expect someone in Hillary's position, with her significant political experience and campaigning for the presidency, to have long since found her voice. I want her strong, clear, and filled with purpose. I don't want her "finding her voice" in the 11th hour like some poor little babe that's been lost in the woods. What does this say about the voice she's had up until now in the White House and in the Senate? And, if this is part of her whole strategy to appear more human by allowing herself to tear up and become relatable as a woman, I think it's another example of how that strategy is misguided. Either she has passion, or she doesn't. Either she is honest and forthright with her beliefs and convictions or she's not. Either she's a fighter, or she's not. Personally, although I found her quite believable and likable during the "tearing up" moment, I don't need to see her cry. I need to see her fighting spirit.

This morning on NPR, I heard Barack Obama speaking about the results in New Hampshire. In addition to being inspiring in terms of his political vision, commitment to positive change, and his ideas for the future, Obama is a candidate who has shown his fighting spirit over and over again, and he has no trouble expressing his voice. Obama has less experience than Hillary, he also has less political baggage and undoubtedly less people he owes something to in Washington. Hillary is more of a known card, Obama is more of a wild card. He has the potential to be an incredible leader that could do truly amazing things for this country, both domestically and in the world arena. He's articulate, smart, passionate, and he appears to have integrity. He also appears to be mobilizing voters and recapturing the imagination of many people who started tuning out around the time everyone started talking about cigars and dress stains and then fled politics altogether in despair and started planning their retirement in Canada, when Bush was elected to a second term.

Obama has unquestionably captured my interest, and I don't think I'm leaning towards Hillary at the moment. I'm more in the middle between the two of them. For a change, quite curious and a little excited about how all of this is going to turn out.

Don't Be Scared

2008-01-08T11:13:00.000-05:00

I'm deliciously happy today. Thanks to Global Warming, New York is a gorgeous 70 degrees and sunny today, and I'm reveling in it. It's so funny how little changes in the weather can have such a profound affect on one's mood.

I went out last night and saw "I Am Legend" with Will Smith. Overall, I really liked it. A lot of the movie focuses on how Smith's character manages to live on his own in Manhattan after all of the other humans have been annihilated by mutated, hyper-aggressive zombie-humans - the products of a genetically-engineered cure for cancer gone catastrophically wrong. Smith's character recreates human relationships with his dog, Samantha, and the mannequins positioned in an empty record store. He uses an almanac to chart meticulously the time the sun will set each day, listens to his Ipod, somehow has electrical power in his house though ConEdison has long since disappeared, watches Shrek and re-runs of the Today Show, and insists that Samantha eats her vegetables, all the while hunting the zombies in an effort to find a cure that will reverse the effects of the mutation and save humankind.

The parts with the zombies were tense and scary, causing me to bury my head into the shoulder of my obliging date, who whispered softly, "Don't be scared." As a general matter, I'm not good with scary movies; I have a very vivid imagination and find it difficult to suspend disbelief when faced with terrorizing monsters or serial killers lurking in the dark. And, unfortunately, my inability to suspend disbelief often stays with me long after the movie has ended, causing me to check under the bed, in the shower, and behind the clothes in the closet before gingerly crawling in to bed, listening in the darkness for the faintest hint of movement somewhere in the house - the tell-tale sign of something disastrous about to occur.

But, today, it's warm and sunny outside, life is good, and I'm so happy at the moment that the idea of zombies attacking is quite unthinkable.

Beauty Detoxification

2008-01-07T10:20:00.000-05:00

Despite the chill that has descended upon New York with a vengeance, I had a terrific weekend that was the perfect balance of social and me-time activities. I started the weekend off with yoga in my favorite studio in the city, lead by the best yoga teacher ever. He makes everyone laugh while they're gritting through their downward dogs and is constantly talking about this or that pose feeling "yummy" and "delicious." He could easily be the poster child for positivity and I love him. From yoga, I went to Sounds of Brazil, where I met a bunch of my girl friends for salsa dancing. It was such a blast! Although my favorite music to dance to is probably hip-hop, it is so much fun to be twirled around and dipped all over the dance floor. I got spun around like crazy and was laughing the whole time.

Saturday, I went running and lifted weights, did some shopping, and then met a different group of friends at Employees Only, where I had a delicious peach Bellini. Yum. Sunday was probably the best day. I did pilates, went to church, met some new people, practiced my Swedish, did some more shopping, and then did restorative yoga in the evening. Maybe that's why the weekend was so great, because it started and ended with yoga? I was thinking while I was luxuriating in one of the restorative poses - drifting in and out of awareness - that when I do yoga, it makes me feel like I'm on vacation. It's funny, the more I do it, the more I love it. It's kind of like a drug (if drugs were healthy); you end up feeling so blissed out a the end of each session, that your body and mind start to crave it.

Speaking of mind-body awareness and health, I've been having a bit of an awakening around the whole issue of toxic chemicals, and their prevalence in our environment. I've been aware of the toxicity of household cleaners, but I had not thought about the potential toxicity of chemicals in things like cosmetics, shampoos, and other beauty products. If you're curious about what toxins you dabbed around your eyes today or slathered all over your shower-dampened skin, check out this web site: Skin Deep. Just type in one of your beauty products and then check out the detailed rating and the write-up. I was shocked because several of my products from Origins were ranked 7 (out of 10, with 0 being the lowest and least harmful level of chemicals). Personally, I'm trashing all of my normal shampoos and conditioners and going natural; from here on out, I'm only using products with a 0-1 ranking, like California Baby (good for babies and adults). Another of my favorites for natural, organic beauty products is Lush (they also have awesome bath bombs like Sex Bomb and Youki Hi, filled with all natural, organic aphrodisiacs, but that's a different story).

I think I'm also going to trash all of my moisturizers and make-up that doesn't pass the toxicity test, but I think I'm going to have to phase them out gradually. It has not escaped my attention that a lot of my cosmetics have parabens in them, which can mess with your hormones, and my hormones appear to be short-circuiting. Coincidence? Perhaps, but I think it's worth it to explore the topic further and eliminate even potential risks.

Hot Chocolate Havens

2008-01-03T12:07:00.000-05:00

One of the NYE parties that I went to was catered by the City Bakery, located in Chelsea. There was a delectable spread of pretzel croissants, caramelized french toast bites (with toothpicks - how cute!), empenadas, sugar cookies, homemade giant marshmallows, boxes of chocolate, and much more. Sage was in love with the french toast bites, and naturally I had to keep her company by sampling them as well. They were almost as good as the caramelized Belgian waffle I had in London.

The homemade marshmallows were so good, I vowed, on the spot, to sample the City Bakery's hot chocolate at the earliest opportunity. Apparently, the hot chocolate, topped off with their signature homemade marshmallows, is out of this world. Speaking of hot chocolate, I heard from a colleague today that Petit Abeille is supposed to have amazing hot chocolate. Also on my list is Max Brenner, recommended by the Italian Man.

Why this current hot chocolate craving? Possibly, because of the semi-perma-period I've been experiencing of late, but more probably because temperatures in New York dropped precipitously a few days ago. Walking to work the past two mornings, I was chilled to the bone, freezing winds piercing my down coat as if it was a thin layer of Kleenex. I think a warm cup of hot chocolate would be just the thing to drive away the Arctic chill. At least temporarily.

Period Weirdness

2008-01-02T08:21:00.000-05:00

Usually I get my period every 22 or 23 days as part of a 28-day cycle that includes one week of bleeding and three weeks off. The week of bleeding is not normally 7 full days; it's more like 5.

This month, strange things are happening. I got my period in the first week of December, and then about a week later I got it again. Two full periods in the span of 3 weeks - very strange. Then, this past week, I didn't bleed, but woke up this morning to find more blood. If this morning's bleeding turns into a period, that's going to be three full-blown periods in the span of about 5 weeks.

It's really strange and I don't know what to make of it. This in conjunction with the spot and the weirdness on my head (which I will not go into now) is making me think something is amiss. What's going on body? Too much sexual attraction of late? Involuntary purging? The affect of beginning to take a multi-vitamin? I'm at a loss.

Happy New Year!

2007-12-31T14:05:00.000-05:00

It's so silly to make people come to work during the week between Christmas and New Year's; my mind's here, but it's so hard to make myself be productive. *Sigh.*

Instead, I'm thinking about what I'm going to wear for tonight's New Year's festivities and the order in which I'm going to go to my parties. Em's having a party at her place and Sage's friends are having a big cocktail party in their Chelsea loft. My current plan is to start at the loft party and then head over to Em's before the clock strikes midnight. Thankfully, the parties are within 15 blocks of one another because I know finding a cab is going to be a nightmare. As will navigating the chilly streets in a short dress and strappy high heels.

Speaking of the dress, it's a bubble dress. You know those poufy creations that are kind of cool, but could also look kind of bizarre. Mine's lavender shot through with silver threads. If nothing else, it's festive, and if I don't wear it tonight, I highly doubt I'll ever wear it. I have to wear it; I bought it at a little boutique downtown. Even if I look like a blueberry on stilts... so be it. What's life without occasional risk-taking.

I'm looking forward to the evening, and am expecting it to be relatively chill and civilized. I'm not anticipating anything too crazy, and plan to be in fine shape tomorrow to take advantage of yet another day off.

Happy New Year everyone!

Smoothie Gone Awry

2007-12-30T21:12:00.000-05:00

Back from family-land and in the mood to detoxify and nourish my body, I decided to get uber-creative with smoothie-making tonight. The brilliant idea: use tomatoes! Now why hadn't I thought of that before? (Wait and see). I mixed half a box of cherry tomatoes, some frozen raspberries, a little OJ, yogurt, and a banana, and at first it seemed fabulous. The consistency was smooth, it tasted great, and it was a lovely pink color.

However, 15 minutes later, the world was less rosy and unexpectedly gelatinous. While I had been innocently talking on the phone, getting ready to savor my creation, my smoothie, which had flowed beautifully out of the blender, had gradually solidified into a gelatinous pink lump that looked suspiciously as if it was on the verge of curdling. I stuck my finger in it to test the viscosity and got a jiggling mauve lump of gunk on my chest for my trouble. How in god's name did that happen?

The culprit is clearly the tomatoes. I've used OJ, yogurt, bananas, and frozen berries many times before in smoothies and have never created an inadvertent jello mold. Take it from me, if you're in the smoothie mood and you get the urge to use tomatoes, fight it. The results are less than appetizing.

Swedish Glogg Party

2007-12-17T23:12:00.000-05:00

I had a total blast this weekend. Friday night, I went to a holiday party and out to dinner and then Saturday I threw a birthday/holiday party at my house, the theme of which was a Swedish Glogg Party since I'm part Swedish. I think the party was a success. There were about 30 people crammed into the living space in the apartment that I share with Rumi. In typical New York style, we had had to put the coffee table and living room chair out in the hall to accommodate our guests.

Here are a few things I would do differently that I want to remember for next year's bash:

1) Start the party no later than 8:00 pm - This year, I started it at 7:00 pm thinking that because there were other holiday parties I'd give my guests the option of stopping by mine first. However, no one came before 7:30 (also typical New York - actually, 7:30 is super early), and literally all of my girl friends were just walking out their doors at around 8:00 pm.

2) Have no ending time - I had set the party for 7 to 10 but a large group stayed until midnight which was perfect. I don't know what I was thinking imagining that I would be up for going out after the party (and after running around all day, baking, and getting everything prepared). Plus, it was pretty much the perfect end to the evening to turn around after shutting the door on the last of my departing guests to see Mr. Italian standing in front of me.

3) Have a bigger pot of glogg - The glogg was a hit. I went through three batches in a saucepan. Who knew it would be so popular. It turns out that everyone loves hot mulled wine, and frankly who wouldn't? It's hot, spicy wine filled with raisins and almonds. Yum. Next year I'm going to have a bigger pot or I'm going to use one of those catering things that dispense coffee as a glogg dispenser. How cool would that be?

4) Organize the booze so it's more self-serve - Next year, the booze gets its own table so that guests know exactly what where it is, what their options are, and how to get it. I ran around trying to get people drinks but I think if I had organized it better people would have been able to fend for themselves a bit more. Ideally, next year I'll be able to just direct them to the booze table and say, help yourselves.

Other than that, I wouldn't change anything. I made lussebullar (St. Lucia Buns), had Le Tur and fig jam on crackers, pepper-encrusted salami for my meat-eating friends, olives, pepperkakor, Swedish candy (bilar, salt lakris, and vine gummi), smoked salmon, and a bunch of snack that Rumi's boyfriend brought over. Also, everyone who said they were going to come came! It was fantastic. Pretty much all of my closest friends in New York came to the party, not to mention Mr. Italian (date # 5 for those of you keeping track).

It was a great way to celebrate my b-day and I was very happy.

The Deep Blue

2007-12-11T10:37:00.000-05:00

I get a "Daily Om" post sent to my email each day and though I'm always so busy I try to take at least a minute to read the posts. It's a positive centering exercise that reminds me to take some time for myself, and that the be-all, end-all is not work, men, or anything else other than what's inside of me. The posts also remind me to do basic stress-relief type things, such as to breathe and to be thankful.

I really like today's post because it's about this concept of interconnectivity. It imagines all of us as part of a great ocean of "love" - which I know sounds very new-agey - but which I take to mean the positive life essence that connects us all to one another and to the undefinable energy of the universe - whether you want to call that a higher power, God, the Universe, or some other name.

The negative aspects of life, the challenges, fears, and notes of discord that we all experience are imagined as sharks swimming about in the otherwise tranquil ocean. The sharks - despite their fearsome appearance - are not totally negative either because they too are made up of "love." The point of the post as I interpret it is that we are all part of this love, the ocean. We, like the sharks, are made up of the ocean, and despite sometimes feeling like we are surrounded or attacked by sharks, beyond the sharks is a much larger ocean of... tranquil bliss; the happiness that is within us all that I personally tap in to through yoga, bubble baths, clearing my mind, running, practicing my Swedish, going to church, and spending time with people I love, among other things.

Sometimes I focus too much on the "sharks" and forget about the ocean, so it's nice to be reminded about it. It's calming.

Here's the Daily Om:

"What We Are Made Of
Choose Love

Love is often presented as the opposite of fear, but true love is not
opposite anything. True love is far more powerful than any negative emotions, as
it is the environment in which all things arise. Negative emotions are like
sharks swimming in the ocean of love. All things beautiful and fearful, ugly and
kind, powerful and small, come into existence, do their thing, and disappear
within the context of this great ocean. At the same time, they are made of the
very love in which they swim and can never be separated. We are made of this
love and live our whole lives at one with it, whether we know it or not.

It is only the illusion that we are separate from this great love that
causes us to believe that choosing anything other than love makes sense or is
even possible. In the relative, dualistic world of positive and negative,
darkness and light, male and female, we make choices and we learn from them.
This is exactly what we are meant to be doing here on earth. Underlying these
relative choices, though, is the choice to be conscious of what we are, which is
love, or to be unconscious of it. When we choose to be conscious of it, we
choose love. We will still exist in the relative world of opposites and choices
and cause and effect, and we will need to make our way here, but doing so with
an awareness that we are all made of this love will enable us to be more
playful, more joyful, more loving and wise, as we make our way. Ultimately, the
choices we make will shed light on the love that makes us all one, enabling
those who have forgotten to return to the source.

This world makes it easy to forget this great love, which is part of why we
are here. We are here to remember and, when we forget to remember again, to
choose love."

Holiday Party Music Picks

2007-12-10T17:32:00.000-05:00

I've been in a flurry of activity preparing for my upcoming holiday party. It's actually a holiday/birthday party as my birthday is at the end of December. Although I grew up hearing how December babies always get shafted, I can report, happily, that that's never been the case for me. I guess I'm lucky like that.

One of the things I've been working on, in addition to cleaning up and organizing my god-awful disaster of a room, lugging home bottles of liquor and tasty ingredients, and perfecting my Swedish glogg recipe, is picking the perfect play-list for the party. It's actually way more challenging than I would have thought. I'm doing it in order and trying to have some chill, but fun music up front and then gradually picking up the tempo. The hard part is that you don't want to bust out, for example, Britney's "Gimme More," too early, but you also don't want to let things lag in the beginning.

What are your music must-haves for a holiday party? Send 'em my way. Once I get my list perfected, I'll be sure to post it. It's going to be awesome.

In other news, for those of you who have inquired... yes, I've been rather preoccupied this past week with the Italian man. I'm not going to write much about it because, surprise, surprise, he actually seems cool and I'm genuinely interested in seeing him again. Me thinks blogging would not be a good idea at this stage. Now, if it all fizzles and goes to pot in some semi-painfully hilarious fashion, you can be sure that I will share all the sordid details.

For now though, I'm going to remain pleasantly mum.

Distracted

2007-12-07T16:53:00.001-05:00

All I can think about today is sex. Walking to the subway: sex. Reading cases: sex. At a meeting in a conference room: sex. Maybe this is what it's like to be a man, to walk around all day feeling a dull pulsing of desire and having it flare up at the most inappropriate moments when a stray vision of two bodies intertwined flashes across your mind. It's quite distracting. How do men hold it together if they really think about sex every 7 seconds? (Or other women, for that matter). Good god, it's a wonder they get anything done. As it is, I must have read the same paragraph over today at least 20 times, still without any comprehension.

Airports

2007-12-04T13:58:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, out of the blue, delightful, completely unexpected things happen. Like, for example, meeting a ridiculously sexy Italian man at the airport on your way to London, having said ridiculously sexy man ask for your number while you're tying up the laces of your sneakers, and then having a terrific first date where you find out that not only is Mr. Italy hot, he's also smart, thoughtful, funny, considerate, accomplished, caring, chivalrous and possessed of a smoldering intensity.

These things happen. Isn't life fun?

Little M.I.A. Me

2007-12-02T21:37:00.000-05:00

This was totally not going to be a post about how oh my god, I'm not blogging as much lately, where does the time go, I still love the blog and miss you all, but I'm so busy. But, the title just came to me so apparently I do feel the need to 'splain a little about my temporarily changed blogging habits. (Anyone else read "Everything is Illuminated," and not realize until weeks after finishing it that "'splainin'" was supposed to be explaining? Nutz. ).

I've gone from an every day blogger to a once-a-weeker in the blink of an eye, and all I can say is it's the holidays. Not only are the holidays filled with emotionally wrought visits to the Fam for Thanksgiving and Christmas, they are also filled with parties! It seems like just yesterday it was August and I was enjoying the lazy haze of summer simmering over the city. Suddenly, I'm in London for Thanksgiving, it's December, and today it snowed! In less than a month it's going to be 2008, which I find particularly shocking in light of the fact that Will Smith reminded me tonight on 60 Minutes that "Independence Day" came out in 1996. That's like 12 - TWELVE - years ago. I had to wait for the sledgehammer of panic to settle down in my chest after hearing that fact.

Not to worry though. December is going to be so busy, I'll have hardly a second to ponder the traitorously swift passage of time. Take for example this upcoming week. I have events every single night. Every night! Good lord. I'm exhausted, but excited, just thinking about it. Tomorrow, I'm going to dinner with the hot Italian man I met going through security. Nice. Date No. 1. Therapy on Tuesday, book-club on Wednesday, Holiday party on Thursday, Holiday party on Friday, Holiday party on Saturday, and Holiday party on Sunday. That's 4 holiday parties in a row and only one of them is an official, business-y one. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally stoked about all of them, but I must admit, it would have been nice if they had been spread out a tiny bit. Not that it would have helped much, because the next week is sure to be just as busy.

Did I forget to mention work? Yep, I actually have to do work as well. Sigh. It would be immensely helpful on the social front if work could just chill out for a bit in December. I'm not holding my breath, but a girl can hope.

London Highlights

2007-11-27T12:20:00.000-05:00

Hello Blogsphere! I'm back from a drizzle-soaked, chilled-to-the-bone, museum, musical, and historical sight-saturated, family-intense, surprisingly endearing baby-spit-up-smelling, cuddle-filled visit to London. I know I've mentioned this before, but my nephew - Baby Bean - is adorable, and getting the chance to bond with him was one of the highlights of the trip.

Despite the weather, London is a fun place to visit and there's tons to do. I had a great time walking around Notting Hill, Covent Garden, and Hyde Park. In Notting Hill, near where my brother Frey lives, there's a cute coffee shop with inviting couches that plays old French songs and has delicious baked goods. Their coffee was better than London's Starbuck's, which tasted burnt to me. Hyde Park was relaxing; there were teenagers playing soccer outside, people strolling, flocks of swans and ducks, and wide open grass filled spaces filled with fallen leaves and dotted with impressive, stately trees. In Covent Garden, I had the best Belgium waffle I've ever tasted from a little kiosk. It was delicious! They must make the batter with heaps of sugar because the waffle, which I had plain, came out delightfully carmelized around the edges.

Speaking of food, I had my fill of Scottish shortbread cookies; they were impossible to resist, particularly since they were one of the few things that was not at least double the price of what it would have been in New York. I also tried clotted cream for the first time. Strange stuff. It looks like butter with a crusty yellow edge, but tastes like whip cream. My mom and I had it on scones with strawberry jam. On the way down it tasted delicious, but I must report that 15 minutes later I could still feel the sensation of it in my mouth and throat - sort of an unpleasant coating that made me fear for the health of my arteries. I also sampled the fish 'n chips - good, but not good enough to make up for it being fried. The stand out food was the Indian and fusiony Thai food. Excellent.

I took advantage of the lack of a strike to see some musicals in London, and am now of the opinion that the theater in London may be superior to that of New York, not necessarily for quality (although it was great) but more so for convenience. While in New York one must wait for hours for half-priced tickets and can't get tickets for tons of shows, in London it was a snap to get half-priced tickets and I was able to see "Wicked" - a show that I've been trying to see forever in New York. A review of Wicked will be forthcoming. I also saw "Chicago" which I also enjoyed. I love that song that the murderesses in jail sing about how they killed their husbands. He had it coming!

The other London attractions I enjoyed were Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, and the tour of the Tower of London. My favorites though were the museums. I dragged my mom to the British Museum where we saw the Rosetta Stone! - how cool is that? - the National Gallery, and the Tate Modern. That Tate was really cool. I'm not a fan of modern art but they had quite a range including some surrealist and abstract impressionist art. The coolest thing about the Tate was the actual structure of the building, an impressive old warehouse set on the bank of the Thames River with dramatically spacious, high-ceilinged rooms showcasing the art work. Even if you absolutely loath modern art, it's worth it to go to the Tate just to check out the facility, arguably a work of art in and of itself.

The visit also included some good family time, including a walk from the Tower of London up the Thames and over London Bridge to get to the Tate with my mom and Bacchus, nice dinners and lunches, and just chilling in front of the TV watching movies or taking turns gushing over my little nephew. My brother Frey gets props and many thanks for organizing the trip.

But, as with all great trips, it's always nice to get home. I'm very happy to back in my own bed, work, routine, and among predictable and familiar New Yorkers. The Brits are cool, but it's comforting to be back on the subway after the tube, to be walking on streets where pedestrians have the right of way, where Starbuck's coffee tastes like it should, where there's sunshine mixed in with the rain, where I have my whole closet and bathroom at my sole disposal, and where the cost of my morning coffee doesn't cause me to shake my head in despair at the dismal state of the American dollar.

Baby Bean

2007-11-20T19:39:00.001-05:00

I've been off the radar because I'm in London with the fam for Thanksgiving. I left New York Thursday morning and met up with Bean, Baby Bean, and Bacchus in the airport. I also met a fantastically sexy Italian man going through security, but that's another story - nice beginning to the trip though, I must say.

I've spent the last 4 days wanting to eat up my little nephew. He is soooo adorable I can hardly stand it. Now don't get me wrong, the whole experience has also made me think long and hard about how unready I am to have babies. Good lord the little tykes are a lot of work. I struggled up my brother's stairs carrying just the stroller; somehow Bean managed to go up and down carrying the baby, his seat thingie, the stroller, diaper bag, and other sundry items like random pacifiers, blankets, stray toys, and burp clothes. It's incredible. I haven't really checked email because I've been focused on sightseeing with Bean and the baby, trying to make him smile (and/or stop almost crying - he's so good, he hardly ever screams), or gazing at his sleeping little face in wonder.

So, let's get to how freakin' unbelievably cute my nephew is. Adorable. The cutest. Ever. I'm so smitten. His huge luminous eyes just gazing up at me, and then suddenly, from out of no where a brilliant smile filled with sparkles. It's one of the most beautiful, peaceful things to just watch him sleep. He and Bean are leaving tomorrow and I'm going to miss them. I'm so glad they came and that I got to spent a few days with them; I can't believe I hadn't seen him since he was born. Now he's 7 1/2 months old! A mini-human, as my brother Bacchus says.

Speaking of which, one of the most special things was watching my brothers with the baby. I knew Bacchus would be good with the baby but Frey really surprised me. He was so gentle and sweet and seemed kind of fascinated and enamoured.

I can't let 7 more months go by without seeing him. He's too cute and he's growing so fast! He's going to be colouring, crawling, and walking - maybe not in that order - in no time.

Turkeys: Before The Table

2007-11-14T18:30:00.000-05:00

I don't eat meat. It used to be for health reasons, but now it's mainly because I literally cannot stomach the cruelty perpetuated against animals in the industries that prepare them to become food. My personal view is that we all have a responsibility to understand what happens to animals before they wind up as carcasses on our dinner plates, and it's also my belief that if more people were aware of the poor treatment that animals receive they would work to make the system more humane - so at least if humans must eat animals, we can do so in a way that minimizes the pain caused to them.

If you are interested, check out the below video, filmed by an undercover investigator from PETA. It's short and not as informative as some of PETA's other videos, but it gives you a sense for the kind of senseless cruelty that turkeys are exposed to while waiting to be slaughtered. If they have to die, they should at least be treated with dignity and compassion. After all, if giants invaded the world and started eating us, wouldn't you want to be treated - at a bare minimum - with dignity and compassion?

No Grazing

2007-11-11T22:24:00.001-05:00

While having coffee after church today, I met a fascinating woman who does work with women's and children's health in South Africa. She's Swedish and moved to South Africa because she married a South African. Her work in Capetown started off focusing on children's health, but lead her to women's health - because unless the mothers are healthy it's unlikely that the children are. Interestingly, she said that working on women's health leads inevitably to programs to increase the economic self-sufficiency of women.

The starkest example is the AIDs crisis in Africa. One of the highest risk factors for women in Africa is whether they are married. Married women are at an extraordinary risk of contracting HIV because their husbands are using prostitutes or sleeping with other women outside of the marriage and then bringing back sexually transmitted diseases to their wives (and children). Where women are not economically self-sufficient - which is most places in the world - they are trapped. They're dependent on their husbands and feel that they have to stay, even if there's abuse or adultery.

While I was in Cambodia, I saw the same thing. Women from different social classes are separated from one another. The men move between the different classes of women, sleeping with one class outside of marriage, and the other inside of marriage, and passing diseases between them. It's incredible that prostitutes continue to be blamed for the spread of diseases, because it's not them that are spreading it to the wives of the men who buy them. Prostitutes, like wives (and of course they're often both), have limited power over the men that they sleep with. Often times, for example, they are not in a position to insist that a client wears a condom.

Apparently the only country in Africa which has seen a drop in the rate of HIV transmission is Uganda (hopefully Pas, who has done work there, will chime in). My new friend told me that this was because Uganda started a massive public health campaign aimed at curbing concurrent sexual relationships - something which my friend said was more common in Africa than the West (in the West you have lots of sexual partners but their more often one after another, instead of all at the same time). The issue with having multiple concurrent sexual relationships is that if one person in that chain contracts HIV, suddenly you have 4, or 6, or 10 others who contract it almost at the same time. It makes sense that it would spread rapidly under those conditions.

I honestly don't know if this is true, and if you're interested this theory is discussed in depth in a new book called The Invisible Cure, which I plan to get. The slogan of the Ugandan campaign was "No Grazing," as in, if you're eating one dish, don't nibble from others. It was successful because it resonated with both the health workers in Uganda and the population at large.

It's just so shocking that becoming a wife could be the most dangerous thing you could do in terms of your health. But on the other hand, it's not at all surprising that becoming a wife in an unequal partnership could be risky. I think it was Abigail Adams who said that all men would be tyrants if they could. Women have to come together and support one another in becoming economically independent. As the AIDs epidemic demonstrates, women's rights are quite literally a life or death matter.

Drafting Doldrums

2007-11-06T20:39:00.000-05:00

I really quite desperately want to sleep.

Unfortunately, I have a rather gigantic assignment due that is taking literally forever. It's 9:00 pm and I'm stuck in the office and probably will not be able to go home for a while. Boo. As I have nothing substantive or interesting to say, I guess the point of this post is to whine. *frowning* This is the first OBIM day that I've had in a long, long time.

Which reminds me, it's actually Tuesday! Which is both good and bad. Good, because I'm that much closer to the end of the week and my coveted weekend. Bad, because I have a boatload of work to do and I'm not sure how I'm going to do it. I'm also supposed to go on a date tomorrow night with the Masked Priest, but it's unclear at this juncture how that's going to happen.

Help.

I'll leave you with a funny tidbit: The other day, I heard someone describe a person as ineffective by calling them a "one-armed coat hanger." Hilarious. Come to think of it, I kind of feel like a one-armed coat hanger right now.

Date Update: The Masked Priest just called and for the third time in a row he did something that left me feeling pleasantly surprised. How delightful. He called with an idea for a bar to meet at tomorrow night which was midway between both of us in a cool area. Then, during the conversation when I was saying that I might have to meet up a bit later because of work, he suggested that we meet for dinner instead (because I would not have been able to eat by then). He even had a restaurant suggestion. He listened, thought of me, and suggested something that would make my life more pleasant. He's confident, has back-up plans, and fun ideas. Remarkable. Wow. I kind of feel like a one-and-a-half armed coat hanger now. Once again I'm left with the impression that this guy might be kind of cool. Despite my work, I'm looking forward to dinner tomorrow.

Mom & Me

2007-11-04T18:50:00.001-05:00

My mom's in town for the weekend and we've been having a lot of fun. We attempted to go for drinks at the bar on the 35th floor of the Mandarin Hotel but were thwarted by all the people in town for the marathon. Lesson learned: Make reservations, even just for cocktails. Instead, we had dinner at Cafe Gray. Fancy, but delish. She had Snapper, which was light and flavorful, and I had the Skate Schnitzel. Interesting, but not the greatest because it was fried - hence the "schnitzel." My favorite was the tiny lavender cookies that they brought at the end of the meal (I believe pastry chef Chris Broberg's lavender-scented white-chocolate petits fours). Lavender in food is kind of fabulous.

Today, we went to church and then had coffee cinnamon buns and pieces of Princess Cake after the service. It was so relaxing, and fortifying for the four hours of shopping that transpired afterwards. We hit Banana, Kenneth Cole, and Bloomies and basically shopped 'til we dropped. OK, I shopped; my mom almost dropped. I got two dresses, a purple coat, two pair of shoes, and a sweet black top that I can wear for both work and going out at night. A perfect date top - always a great purchase.

Now, I'm trying to do work while my mom is watching football downstairs. God, do I hate football. Hate. It. It's got to be one of the top 3 most boring things in the world, right before watching paint dry or waiting for water to boil. Not only is it boring, it's extremely aggravating to listen to. I can't stand the incessant murmur of the crowd roaring and the announcers squawking.

It makes me tense. She loves it. Bizarre.

Dips

2007-11-03T13:52:00.001-04:00

I'm having a slight emotional dip. I'm not sure why. This is 10,000 times better than it used to be. It used to be that the norm would be a dip, and the unusual would be a feeling of well-being. Those were in the dark days of things long since past. Now, I operate, especially lately, on a plane several stories above the emotional wasteland that I used to exist upon. It's nice and warm and fuzzy up here, but sometimes there are the dips.

I'm not sure what precipitated this one. It's not even a full dip, but I find myself hanging on with my fingernails, scared that I might slide down all the way. I don't like the emotional wasteland. It involves feeling of isolation, being overwhelmed and anxiety. It feels a little like things are flying apart, like there's no sense of purpose, nothing concrete to hold on to. It evokes the desire to binge. It evokes a feeling of need. Need. Need for what?

Not cool, creamy, chocolaty goodness. Despite what I feel.

But, as I was saying, we're not in a full-blown dip. I think it started from a series of seemingly small, inconsequential things. I had to deal with the psycho-actress that I rent from about bills. Every time that happens it's a source of stress and I think why am I still living here? The apartment suddenly looks dingy again, I hate the lack of bath tub, my room looks like a chaotic mess. I think, I'm not together. I don't have the apartment of a woman who is together, sophisticated. My mom's coming in to town and I'm excited to see her, but it's also stressful. I have to think of what to do, where to go, will she be happy, will she be warm. I need to work because of something that came up last minute on Friday. I feel guilty. I also feel stressed about work.

And then, last night, I met the boyfriend of one of my new friends. She's white, he's Indian. Sound familiar? Well, it turns out that Indian boy, after dating this White girl for 4 years, finally told his parents that he was dating a white girl. Ooooooh. Yes, I intended that mocking tone - not to him, not to my friend, but to the past - my own past. It was a big deal for Indian boy to finally tell his parents, and of course he didn't tell the whole truth. He told them he had been dating her for 1 year (not 4). The mother cried, the father wrote an email asking him why he made his mother cry. They both asked him why he couldn't just date an Indian girl.

God, it's all so stupid.

Exbf's parents didn't want me to be with him at first either for everything that I was not. I wasn't Indian, I wasn't Hindu, I hadn't grown up in the Indian culture. Never mind that I'm respectful, culturally aware, and that I was genuinely interested in embracing their background and culture. My dad's an immigrant. I get it.

The funny thing was that eventually his parents did accept me. It actually got to the point that his father gave him his blessing to marry me. The funny thing is that it happened a few weeks before we finally broke up. That's hysterical. His parents came to accept me, actually embraced - to the extent that they could - the idea of us marrying, just before we broke up.

I have to admit that hearing my friend's story last night, I felt a tiny flicker of hollowness laced with a tinge of bitterness inside of me. An edge of harshness. I guess it's anger, maybe hurt. Still. I don't want to be with him. I haven't wanted to be with him or talk to him since the day, almost a year ago, that we broke up. But, things that I experienced with him still affect me now and then. Remembering still evokes some negative emotions.

I guess maybe this emotion is something like: You never saw how wonderful and special I was. And, that makes me mad. It makes me want to throw a plate at him. I tried really hard. His parents - people totally dead set against me from the beginning b/c of things completely out of my control - came to appreciate and accept me. But, not him. He was too selfish, too small, too weak, too insensitive, too self-involved, too cowardly, too insecure, too pathetic, and he had way too little to give.

Every time I remember these things it take me back to this: The re-realization and re-confirmation that he was not good for me and not good enough for me. He sucked.

So, why the lingering emotions that pick at the edges of the almost-healed scabs on my heart? I should be joyous, filled with elation that I'm not with him, that I didn't end up with him, that I was spared from spending one more year with him and his bullshit. And, I am. Truly. A day ago, two days ago, I was filled with joy. The world was warm and fuzzy, and I was so incredibly happy to be me, on my own, safe from that kind of negativity. But, as I'm learning, things are not black and white. I can be joyous about not being with him at the same time that I still feel, on occasion, sad about how he acted and what I experienced while I was with him.

(I was just thinking, as I was writing, you should not be feeling this; it is over a year ago! But then I thought, Fuck it, I'm purging. This is how I feel. This is what I will write. So there.)

You're Invited to the EXBF-WHO? Party!

2007-11-01T10:27:00.001-04:00

There is so much to celebrate today. First, it's a Blood Day and I'm going to do something especially nice for myself in honor of the first day of my period. Second, I'm planning a party - an "Exbf Who?" Party for November 9th, the one-year anniversary of my break-up with Exbf.

I've invited a bunch of my girl friends in New York to celebrate with me. On the agenda are cocktails, cute outfits, and perhaps a healthy dose of Exbf bashing, just for fun. Or, maybe not. Maybe I'll be having so much fun, I'll be like "Exbf who??" That's the objective and I think it will be rather easy to achieve.

Fun, right? I am so incredibly fortunate to have a network of wonderful girl friends in the city. I'm also fortunate that I have so much support from my friends outside of New York. Wood, Pas, and Bubbles supported me through three years of nonsense with Exbf. And, I have all of you! Your kind words, humor, and presence helped me get through that difficult time when I was not only moving on from Exbf, but also trying to escape the evil empire (my former employer).

In thanks to all of you, and in order to fully commemorate this wonderful occasion, you're all invited to a the EXBF-WHO? Party, here on my blog, on November 9th! Drop by, leave a comment, and share your own story about an Exbf who wasn't worth his weight in salt. (Men, you can share stories about Exbfs who weren't worth their weight in salt too).

Love, Buttercup

The Masked Priest: Part I

2007-10-31T13:47:00.001-04:00

On Saturday, I went to two Halloween parties dressed as this femme fatale with a bunch of my friends. I had a nurse's outfit, a cap, a wig of platinum blond 2-ft long hair, red patent leather high heels, bright red lipstick, and a hatori hanzo sword strapped to my back. It was awesome. Technically, I should have had an eye-patch but it turns out that those things are super uncomfortable, so I scratched it. My friends were dressed as a pirate wench, a mammary gland, a pirate captain, a boxer, and Gogo (the psycho-Japanese girl from Kill Bill). I loved dressing up, loved walking around the streets looking at the other crazies, and had a total blast at the parties.

At the second party, I bumped into a very tall (I'm thinking 6'4" to 6'6"), broad-shouldered man wearing a priest outfit with a mask. We chit-chatted in the hall about our costumes and I couldn't help noticing that even in my 3-inch heels (which put me at roughly 6-ft), I had to tilt my head to look up at him. Nice. The party went on, Gogo and I hit the dance floor, had some cupcakes, filled up our champagne glasses, and continued dancing. The apartment where the party was held has this really cool set up with a DJ-booth in the living room, and the guys who live there all take turns DJ-ing for parties. The Masked Priest DJ-ed for about an hour while Gogo and I danced, occasionally catching my eye. When he finished, he joined Gogo and I on the dance floor and he and I started dancing and talking. At one point, he took off the mask and put it on my face, and pictures were taken. It happened so fast and it was dark on the dance floor, so I didn't get a clear picture of the top of his face. Or, if I did, the alcohol has since obliterated it from my memory.

Around 2:30 am, when Gogo was ready to go, I told the Masked Priest that I was leaving. He said that we should hang out some time, and I, looking up at him, said sure. I gave him my number and left with my friends, thinking that the evening had been fantastic, mildly flattered by the attentions of the Masked Priest, but not holding my breath for anything more. It had been fun for what it was, and I didn't expect nor need anything else.

On Sunday, I mostly recovered, more so from lack of sleep than from dehydration. After coming home at 3:20 in the morning on Saturday night, I had made the somewhat poor decision to watch the latest episode of "Gossip Girls" until 4 am. Upon waking around 9:30 am, I lazed around, cleaned, organized, and then did a little shopping later in the day. That night, I saw "Rendition," a very good and disturbing movie that I recommend seeing.

Monday, I worked and went to Swedish class - one of my new favorite things. Tuesday, I worked and went to therapy and talked about eating, emotions, and this new book I've become fascinated by, "Feeding the Hungry Heart." It's in the self-help genre and all about the emotional reasons people (women mainly) overeat and/or binge. I picked it up for research/exploratory purposes, and became totally hooked. When I finish it, I think I'm going to pick up another book about binging, anorexia, or bulimia. Maybe not anorexia - I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Reading it, I feel a little like "Fight Club" when Marla and Tyler participate in a cycle of self-help groups as a way to deal with their own emotional issues. Of course, unlike Marla and Tyler, I'm not a totally disconnected observer - I have my own issues with eating and emotions and it's so interesting to be exploring them and learning about other people's stories and perspectives.

Getting back to the main thread of this post... I came out of therapy and was in the midst of checking my messages when I got a call from an unidentified number. Looking at it quickly, I thought it was a Utah number and assumed it was Bean calling so I clicked over. Guess who it was?

The Masked Priest! My, my, my. Not only did he call, he actually called to converse. What unexpected behavior for a man. Rather intriguing. We chatted for about half hour about all the basics - where do you live, what do you do, what did you do on Sunday, I liked your Halloween costume, etc. It was so pleasant because he was clearly interested in me and the conversation - quite a difference from the leagues of self-involved men I've encountered during the last year who can only talk about themselves in between trying to take off my clothes. After talking for a while - having a perfectly nice conversation - he asked me to do something next week. After we had agreed, tentatively on the day (pending me checking my schedule), he ended the conversation by saying he would call me around Sunday to touch base and wishing me a nice week.

Me thinks the Masked Priest might be kind of cool.

Here's the funny thing. I don't exactly know what his face looks like. I know what the bottom part of his face looks like, but I have no recollection whatsoever of his eyes or nose. When I meet him, I'm going to have to cover his eyes and nose with my palm to see if I can recognize him. Thank god he's significantly taller than most men in the city. And what about me? The last time he saw me, I had 2 feet of blond hair framing my face. If we recognize each other, and like what we see, it will be nothing short of amazing.

Even so, I'm looking forward to it. I love Halloween.

Halloween Costume

2007-10-26T13:38:00.000-04:00

Here's what I think I'm being for Halloween (or, more accurately, for the Halloween parties this weekend):
I think it might just be the perfect mix of evil, slutty, fierce and creative. I might ever go so far as to get a blond wig which I think could come in handy for the future.

What are you all going to be?

Lady Waiting (Revisited)

2007-10-23T16:11:00.000-04:00

On July 13, 2006, four months before EXBF and I broke up, I wrote the following post and then promptly deleted it after he freaked out at me for sharing "our issues." He felt that me writing about our problems was a violation of his privacy, and even though I felt like it was productive for me to express my feelings through writing about them, I acquiesced to his request, pulled the post, and refrained - for the most part - from writing about things that made me upset while I was with him.

One of the many things he never understood that what I was writing about was not just him. When I wrote this post I was writing about my feelings. I was working them out and I was also imagining that other women had probably had similar experiences, where the actions of their partners fell short of their expectations. I wasn't blaming him totally for this incident, or even for my feelings of hurt. I was exploring the situation and how it had made me feel and I was working out what I thoughts about it.

Reading it now, almost a year and a half later, I think I was far too kind to him - as I was many times. I was there; he wasn't. That was the problem. Not my sensitivity, but his lack thereof. And, beneath that, his lack of love. If you truly and honestly love someone, you treat them with care. You think about their feelings and happiness. You consider them. During most of our relationship, he consistently considered one thing, and it wasn't me. When he said he "didn't think," he didn't mean he didn't think. He meant he didn't think of me. I didn't get it then, but I do now. And, now, when I read this, I want to run back to that apartment, grab that girl that I used to be and help her start packing.

He never deserved her, and she always deserved a lot more. I just wish she had figured that out sooner...

Art found here.

It wasn't just twenty minutes.

It's that we didn't have any alone time together during the family vacation, and that I've worked like a dog for the last six days since coming back.

It's that during that time you went out with your friends, relaxed, and had fun while I sat at my desk and came home exhausted with no time for anything except crawling into bed and going to sleep.

It's that on Tuesday night at 9:30 pm you called me and asked if I minded if you went out for a late dinner with friends, which was thoughtful and sweet, and I had to tell you that I didn't because I was still sitting at my desk and could not have done anything with you, or anyone, even though I wanted to.

It's that when I asked you what time you would be home after your late dinner on Tuesday night, you said "twelve thirty or one," which made me angry because I thought to myself, is it really necessary go to a three-hour dinner?, and doesn't he realize that if he doesn't come home until 1 am, there's not even a chance that we'll see each other while we're both awake?

It's that I swallowed those feelings and got over them, and instead started looking forward to Wednesday night, a night that we have decided is supposed to be "our" night to enjoy one another, and to put each other first, above all other distractions.

It's that I told you how much I was looking forward to seeing you Wednesday night, and you told me the same, and that we agreed to be home at 8 pm sharp.

It's that we flirted and I told you in no uncertain terms that I was going to have two glasses of champagne after work and race home to be with you so that you could take advantage of me, and that we joked about the window of opportunity and our mutual excitement.

It's that during our flirting and joking, I said, "You're not going to make me wait, right?," and I was dead serious, and you said, "of course not."

It's that I was having fun talking with my work colleagues for once, while drinking my two glasses of champagne, but was keeping track of the time, and that I dropped everything, rushed out the door, and hopped into a cab, the moment I glanced down at my watch and saw that it was 7:45 pm.

It's that I called you from the cab feeling frisky and happy, missing you, and looking forward to seeing you in a few minutes but that you didn't pick up.

It's that three messages later, feeling disappointed, I walked into our apartment, which was quiet and dark, and you weren't there with candles and a bottle of wine waiting for me.

It's that it would have been okay if you were there, even without the candles and wine, because what I really wanted was you, but I couldn't even have that.

It's that when you called a little after 8 and told me that you were at the gym, it didn't seem like you realized that you should have been home when you said you were going to be home.

It's that when you finally came home at 8:25, you were sweaty from the gym and you sat down to eat a Cuban sandwich, neither of which made it appear as if the most important thing that night to you was me or getting close to me.

It's that I've seen you be on time for work, firm events, going to the gym, meeting your friends, and going to the movies, so know that you are capable of being on time when you want to be.

It's that I really, really wanted to be with you, and that I wanted you to want to be with me as much I wanted to be with you.

Emotional Purging (aka: My EXBF Was A Dick)

2007-10-22T22:50:00.002-04:00

I'm reaching the one-year mark free from my EXBF and all of the selfish crap he used to do that made me completely miserable while I was with him. The official anniversary of him coming into the living room, sitting down on the chair and saying, "I just can't try anymore," is just around the corner, on November 9, 2007. Pretty exciting, right? I've decided to get all my girl friends together for wonderful weekend of drinking, dancing, manicures, and purging to celebrate. There may be some making out with random boys. Or not. New York is our oyster.

I've also decided to give myself permission to write about my feelings about him on this blog, or to talk about him - to the extent I want to - until November 9. After that, once the year is up, he's officially, 100% (in the words of JT) G-O-N-E. Finito forever. Now doesn't that have a nice ring to it?

For most of this year, when I thought about him (which thankfully has not been that often - Yay Me!), I haven't done all that much writing about him, mainly because he used to check the blog and it irked me that he could be reading my thoughts, thinking that he knew what was going on inside my head after reading just a smidgen. He never understood anything when we were together, and he most certainly wouldn't understand anything now. I knew that whatever I wrote about him, the only thing he would take from it was something along the lines of: She's not over me yet; I'm the greatest. Of course that's completely wrong. I was over him the second those words left his lips, and he most certainly is not the greatest. It's just taken me longer to sort out and move past my feelings for and about him, and how he treated me. It's also taken me a while to sort out how I feel about me for staying with someone who was such a dick (you may be hearing a fair amount of that during the next couple of weeks, only for therapeutic purposes).

I also haven't wanted to want to write because soon after breaking up, I felt like I should be totally over everything relating to that relationship. He was a dick, he made me sad, he broke up with me, I'm 10,000 times better off now than I was with him, so why would I be spending any energy on him reliving old feelings of sadness, hurt, tenderness, or anger? My friends all told me, He's irrelevant, Don't let him upset you, He's nothing, Move on. All good sentiments, all of which I have followed for the most part.

But, do you know what? There's a part of me that is still very hurt and very angry. It doesn't consume me; it just comes in flashes now and then when I'm forced to remember something. I'm OK with the angry part but I'm not OK with the hurt part of me, because I'm not totally OK with the fact that I let him hurt me. If no one can make you feel anything, then if you stay with them even while they're hurting you, then you must be letting them hurt you, right? I've mostly forgiven myself for that. I know that I was in a very vulnerable place when we got back together again and I know that I cared very deeply for him. Being vulnerable and caring very deeply for someone can both be beautiful things. However, they can also position you to be lacerated and chopped into tiny little pieces, which is what he did to me emotionally. What I'm most angry about is that he met me in a place of vulnerability, I gave him my trust, and he took my trust and buried it in a vat of slow-burning acid. It ate away at me bit by bit, until I had nothing solid left inside.

God, do I sound bitter? I don't think I am. For the last month, I was thinking a lot about this concept of forgiveness, thinking that I probably had to forgive him in order to let any residual negativity related to that relationship go. However, something happened over the weekend - a slut that he slept with while professing his love to me popped up on the edge of my social network - that made me tap in to my anger again. It was like a scab being ripped off, revealing some still tender skin. I'm sure there was pus too. I think that's what forgiveness would do, let the pus drain away.

On the other hand, I've never been a fan of letting pustules go their course naturally. I prefer to attack and pop the hell out of them so that the pus goes flying everywhere, never to return. That's how I started to think about anger this weekend - a force that clears away that pus. To be healing, I think anger has to be a specific type of anger. It can't be turned inward or be all consuming; it has to be energizing and empowering. I'm not consumed with anger. I'm happy and loving and was trying to be all zen about this - trying to focus on forgiveness. But, fuck it.

For the moment, I'm not forgiving him. He was an asshole. He treated my feelings and emotions with complete disregard. He didn't prioritize me or our relationship. He was not there when I needed him to be. He had inappropriately intimate relationships with scores of "female friends." He checked out women in front of me. He didn't make me feel loved or cared for or special. He slept with a pathetic slut while telling me he was still in love with me. He slept with that same pathetic slut a week before we got back together. He was a dick to the pathetic slut and just used her for sex (or so he said, but how knows). He made a mix tape of the worst summer of my life and then played it while we were on vacation. He almost never thought of me or my feelings. He always said things like, "I didn't think." Three weeks after I had moved in to his apartment, he wrote an email to one of the girls he had slept with in between us and told her that he still thought about her often and all the fun they had had together. He also told her that he was "trying to get back together with his ex" - keeping the door open after we had been back together for 5 months. I could go on.

But, I won't. Not right now. I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that I wrote any of that down. Isn't this a sign that I'm not as far along as I "should" be (by whose measure?)? On the other hand, I'm actively focusing on letting go, and I think that in order to let it go, maybe I first just have to allow myself to express this into the ether.

Blogsphere, Friends: My EXBF was an asshole. I loved him, but he was a dick. This scenario has happened to better women than me. There were things about him that were beautiful and times we had that were wonderful, but overall, he was just a selfish person who didn't have a lot to give outside of the bedroom.

Does it hurt me a little to say these things? These mean things about him? A little bit, which then makes me think maybe I shouldn't have said them at all. Maybe I'm calling negative energy to me by expressing these feelings? Whatever, I'm not second guessing it. I have about two weeks to purge my mind of all thoughts of him before he fades away permanently into nothingness.

I will end by saying I am unequivocally grateful that I was not with him during this past year. Being single and on your own has its challenges. It's hard sometimes to feel like you don't have someone special "there for you" (except for yourself, friends, and family - the saving graces). But, I learned from this last relationship that it's much worse to be in a relationship where you don't feel like there's anyone there for you, than to be single. Compared to that destructive emptiness, being single is a cakewalk.

Dill Pickles

2007-10-19T12:28:00.001-04:00

What's the deal with Dill Pickles having zero calories? How is it possible that cucumbers and vinegar have ZERO calories? Are they bad for you? Good for you?

On binge eating, I was talking with my friend today and she said that she doesn't keep food in the house in order to not binge eat. I asked her, "No food? None whatsoever?" It seemed somewhat radical to me, but also elegant in its simplicity. It's true that if there was no food in the house, you wouldn't binge eat because it would be impossible to do so.

Maybe I've been looking at this eating issue from the completely wrong perspective. I've been asking myself questions like "Why am I doing this?," and "What can I binge on that is not unhealthy?" I pretty much know the answer to the first question, and asking the second question basically makes me an enabler.

Synchronisity

2007-10-17T16:50:00.000-04:00

I've started a few new things recently. One of them is taking Swedish lessons because I'd like to become fluent. The other is going to a progressive (i.e., not part of the Religious Right) Church.

This past Sunday, I saw my Swedish teacher at Church and he ended up sitting next to me. While we were waiting for the service to begin, we proceeded to have a conversation in Swedish. We talked about work, Swedish class, what we had done over the weekend, and then he asked me if I was a Christian. In response, I said that I was not a Christian, but more of an Agnostic. Mind you, this was all in Swedish.

I then asked him what he was. To my surprise and delight, he said, "I'm a Buddhist." My church might just be the coolest church ever.

The next day, I opened up my email and found an email from my Swedish teacher inviting me to a guided meditation that he was going to be doing this week. How awesome is that? I've been talking about wanting to meditate for the last year, but have only had limited success. Then, suddenly, I go to Church, meet a Buddhist, and am now going to meditate tonight.

Divine intervention? Perhaps.

Procrastination Sex Break

2007-10-16T00:53:00.001-04:00

Ever since the Black Dress Revelation, I had been doing quite well in terms of feeling balanced. In the last two days there was a slight dip, not in my mood, but in my habits as a result of some work stress. I have a big project due and it's taking a lot of time and instead of working on it throughout the weekend, I procrastinated. Procrastinating is the worst. But, it's almost as bad to force yourself to do something you don't want to do in the middle of the weekend; hence the problem. I've been chewing so much gum that my jaw hurts.

In a break from working, I watched Episode 6 of "Tell Me You Love Me." Dude. I think that's possibly the most blatant sex I've ever seen, short of watching myself in a mirror. I don't even know how they film that without having sex. I'm talking specifically about Jamie and the Hot Guy from Lost (Shannon's Brother). Not only did we see a full frontal semi-open shot of her - which was frankly a little more information than I needed - we saw his ass and what may or may not have been the base of his actual penis between their entwined legs. I'm kind of shocked, but also fascinated.

In addition to sex, "Tell Me You Love Me" has been boob-crazy of late. I've seen so much of the Woman-Who-Can't-Get-Pregnant's boobs that, today, when she made love to Pollack with her sweater on, it felt like a nice change to see her covered up. Her boobs are kind of amazing. So big and mushable. It must feel different to guys (or girls) when they embrace someone with large pillowy boobs versus little boobs. Do they notice? Oddly though, during the sex scenes with Women-Who-Can't-Get-Pregnant, I felt like her boobs looked a bit uncomfortable. They were getting seriously smashed. It made me afraid that they were going to pop.

Finally, there was the 60-year old therapist and her husband getting it on in front of the fire place with a nice bottle of red wine. Those people know how to set the mood apparently, and our Miss-Sixty-Thang looked like she had a fantastic orgasm. It's a little weird to see older people having sex, but I think it's wonderful. We should have more models like that. One more thing to counter our toxic-youth-obsessed culture.

Prayers

2007-10-14T19:38:00.001-04:00

In the last month or so, I've started going to church. I'm an agnostic, Buddhist-leaning, atheist with a soft spot for Wicca who believes in some divine pattern and purpose to the universe, so going to church - a Christian church - is a little weird. Sometimes during the service, I feel like an anthropologist, studying the religious people in their natural habitat. But mostly I just have a nice time, and revel in the warm fuzzy feelings of peace and calm that come over me when I go. One of my favorite parts is the coffee and cakes after the service. I just chill down in the cafe, away from the ceaseless hubbub of Manhattan, have interesting conversations, and feel a part of a smaller community for a few hours.

During the service, they sometimes send around a page entitled "Our prayers." The idea is that you can write down the name of someone you have in your prayers, someone who is going through a difficult time and needs the prayers of the community. The lists go up to the Priests helpers and they take turns reading out the names so that the whole church can pray for all of the names. Putting aside the question of whether there is a divine being who can answer prayers, I believe in prayer for the same reason that I believe in the power of positive thinking. Although I'm not necessarily good at it, I believe that our minds and how we see reality can impact the world. Even if it can't help, 30 people beaming positive thoughts to one of my loved ones can't hurt.

The last time I went, I wrote down "my family and friends" on the sheet. Today, I wrote down the name of one of my best friends, and the names of her family. She and her family have experienced a very sad loss. I'm far away, so all I can do from here is think about my friend and send my thoughts out into the ether. I love her and I wish she and her family did not have to go through this.

Too Many Tinis

2007-10-12T10:30:00.000-04:00

Oh my good lord, I am so hungover today. I blame all my new work friends, who I absolutely love. We went out in Soho to a bunch of places; four, to be exact. Four bars on a Thursday! My saving grace was that I only had seltzer and lime in the last place and declined the bud light and the tequila shot. Now that could have been ugly.

Today's going to be a busy day, followed by a fun night with the BBC girls - we're trying to plan another yoga infused trip. Speaking of "infused" just made me think of all the cocktails I had last night. There was the "Rhubarbarina," the "Black Crow," and the "Bluetini." Along with wine...

I'm fairly worthless at the moment, but I'm off to work. Happy Friday!

Blogger Loyalty

2007-10-11T16:16:00.000-04:00

I was this close to switching my whole blog over to wordpress. I had imported all my posts, set up a new url, and designed a new site. But, I wasn't totally pleased with the options over at wordpress. Their customizable headers are clearly superior, or at least more user-friendly, than the ones at blogger, because, for example, I can't figure out how to make my custom header on blogger go across the entire page. However, what I didn't like about wordpress is that it was more difficult than blogger to change the colors on the rest of the blog.

For all those reasons, including my soft-spot for blogger (it's where Bean and I started this blog as "Buttercup & Bean" - so cute! - way back in 2005), I've decided to stay for now.

It would be super-cool if some kind soul out there could help me fix my header...

Letting Go

2007-10-10T00:41:00.000-04:00

I hold on to things, people, emotions. I'm a pack-rat in body and mind. It's hard for me to let go completely. There's always the thought lurking in the back of my mind that someday this or that could be useful. It's the same with clothes, extra pens, memories... men.

I have a photo album that I made a couple of years ago filled with pictures of EXBF and me. After this weekend, it would be more accurate to say I had a photo album filled with pictures of EXBF and me. Now, I still have the album but it's mostly filled with pictures of me.

One of my close girl friends and I went to Philly this weekend because we both happened to have Columbus Day off. We decided to make it into a girl-bonding, purging weekend. She has an ex-husband and things from him that she wanted to let go of; I have left-over emotions regarding my relationship with EXBF.

We had so much fun running around Philly that we didn't get to the purging until the bus-ride home. She went first, then me. I flipped through the album, looking at pictures of our vacation in Belize, remembering snorkeling and getting scraped up on the reef, the perfect bungalow on the edge of the island with the hammock perched perfectly over the water, the night of the storm, and caving among Mayan ruins. There were also pictures of our first year together, pictures of a cake I got him for his birthday, nights out dancing, both of us smiling, and hugging, and close to one another. There were a lot of him looking cute and sweet (quite deceptive actually).

Sitting there on the bus, I hadn't known what I was going to do. I sat there holding one picture in my hand, looking at his big brown eyes, remembering feeling tenderness for him (feeling a tiny bit of tenderness despite everything), and thinking how much I had loved him and how much I had tried to make it work. I drank in the picture, the features of his face, his eyes staring out at mine, and then...

...I slowly and deliberately tore it in half.

It felt delicious so I kept tearing until the picture was reduced to a pile of feathery fragments.

It was so liberating. It was like a rush of elated adrenaline surged through my body. It felt so good that I picked up another one, and then another one. I ended up ripping into tiny pieces almost every single picture with him in it, including most of the ones where we were together. I saved two pictures of us where I looked particularly cute, and then folded the picture so that you could only see me. Much better.

As I methodically ripped up the pictures, periodically saying, "Buh-bye, EXBF!," I felt so happy at the confirmation that I no longer need those pictures. I don't need the weight of the emotions. I want to be rid of them completely. I don't want to feel sad, angry, or bitter. I want to forgive him for not being what I wanted him to be, for his faults, his selfishness, his immaturity, his inability to be by himself, and then I want to wish him the best and wash my hands of these memories.

A lot has changed in the 11 months since we broke up. I don't feel pain anymore, but I do on occasion still feel sadness. I see our relationship differently now, from a much clearer perspective, and I see all the reasons that I am so lucky not to be in it any more. I deserve a lot more than he ever gave me - than he was capable of giving. I am still a little angry. I still feel a sense of injustice - that I was wronged. But, what can I do with those feelings? Nothing. I can let myself feel them and move on. That's all. Those emotions do nothing for me, nor do pictures of him.

If you have something you want to let go, trying ripping up a picture or two and see how it feels. It's symbolic but in the symbolism powerful. The last time I saw his face, my heart was in shreds. This time, it was him who had been ripped to pieces and released.

Poetic justice.

Filing

2007-10-04T23:16:00.000-04:00

I just spent the last 14 hours of my life focused on one single goal: To revise and file a brief electronically on the United States electronic filing system. One would think that electronic filing would be simple and user-friendly. It’s not.

Things I did not do today: work out, make my own coffee, overeat, talk to anyone outside of work.

Mood: Quite good but tired, and slightly stressed.

My Black Dress

2007-10-03T17:22:00.002-04:00

What do you do when you come home at night after a very long day to relax? When it's just you, you're hungry but you're too tired to eat, and you're totally key-ed up by a day filled with stress?

It's hard for me to relax during the week, and especially at the end of a really long day. Even if I've gone out and had fun, it's still hard to wind down when I come home. Sometimes I knit, which is relaxing. On occasion, when Rumi is gone, I have baths, which I enjoy.

But, lately, for the past couple of months, I've gotten into the terrible habit of munching. Munch, munch, munch on anything and everything. Salt, sweet, creamy, crunchy - nothing is exactly what I want, or everything is what I want, and I hope from one snack to the next completely unsatisfied.

At my worst, I stop when my TV shows are over or I feel sick.

I can't believe I just wrote that, but it's true. I'm way beyond not stopping when I'm full; I only stop when I feel sick. It only happens at night, when I'm stressed and I have been going, going, going.

I've been going back and forth with this issue for a while now - the issue being this thing with food that has become a problem of late (i.e. when I realized I had gained between 7-10 pounds and was definitely not as skinny or fit as I used to be). At first I thought it would just work itself out. Then I tried a diet, started internally rebelling, and messed myself up more. Then I got off the diet, felt better, and was sure that things would work themselves out. But, now I've realized that the late-night munching thing is yet another expression of this same problem.

It hit me forcefully last night when I went to try on this beautiful black satin dress that I had worn once a few years ago to a black-tie event. It's a gorgeous dress and I still remember how the sales girls oooh-ed and aah-ed over me when I tried it on in the dressing room. Well, last night I couldn't even zip the dang thing up. The unforgiving satin showed clearly where I had gained weight on my hips and butt. Just when I was thinking I should start embracing being a bit curvier, seeing how much I've changed from what I used to be made me sad.

The fact is, I don't want to be curvy. I want to be tight, thin, and strong. I know that eating at night and eating unhealthy things is definitely contributing to this food/weight issue. I know it, but I haven't been able to change it.

I haven't wanted to change because it feels like I would be depriving myself of something good - the taste of chocolate, ice cream, etc. But, looking at that dress riding up on my hips, having to suck in my stomach to get the zipper to fasten all the way, it was inescapable that my bad habits are depriving me of something as well.

I guess I have to decide what I value more: sweet things and the food coma that comes with eating too much or feeling good about myself and being able to wear my old clothes with confidence. It seems like the latter would be a no-brainer. It's so clear that it's mind boggling to me why I'm even having this issue.

What, pray tell is my problem? If I'm really eating as a way to self-medicate, I need to figure out the underlying issue and resolve it. If not for me, then for that black dress. It's far too beautiful to never be worn again.

Artwork Found Here

Britney And Coffee Don't Mix

2007-10-02T12:25:00.000-04:00

Britney Spears losing temporary custody of her children is NOT news! I can't believe that the Today Show, which I realize is not the pinnacle of hard-hitting journalism, featured a story about Britney losing custody on their program this morning. I'm used to them bringing me various bits of entertaining fluff as I get ready in the morning, but Britney's custody problems? Come on! She and her situation are sad, but she's one woman with one set of problems - she should not be the focus of our national attention and I don't care about any of it.

This, on the other hand, should be the subject of our national attention. And, this.

I enjoy consuming pop culture with the best of them, and obsessively check Pop Sugar, The Superficial, and Go Fug Yourself - normally, several times a day. I don't check those sites for news. I check them for the same reason I watch America's Next Top Model: Pure entertainment value and stress relief. It's relaxing to focus your attention on something completely lacking in mental stimulation that's entertaining to boot.

I suppose the same could be said of the Today Show, that it's not intended to be the source of daily news. However, certainly it's supposed to be on a slightly higher level than celebrity blogs - higher in terms of not solely focused on pop culture. Lest you think I could alleviate this problem by putting on CNN in the morning, I don't have cable up in my room so to the extent I choose to flip on the tube, I'm a captive audience to the morning network programs.

Shouldn't morning shows have some kind of social responsibility to educate the legions of Americans who take their first sips of coffee each morning with them in the background? There should be some kind of line between pure, meaningless fluff and things of value that networks should bear in mind for their morning line-ups, and Britney's debacle of a life should not make it across the line into "things of value."

See, now look what they did to me. Because of their impact on my morning, I now wrote about Britney on my blog, and I have further perpetuated the national focus on Britney. So much for global warming and world peace.

Sigh.

In another Britney-related note, LC said something quite amusing on The Hills last night (a delicious show that I revel in for its pure fluff entertainment value). While snuggling with the disgusting Brody Jenner (talk about celebrity whore), LC happened to glance up while her friend Lo was acting a little crazy on the couch. Lo was wearing a little dress and she flashed her panties. LC said to Brody, "Oh no, I just saw Lo's Britney."

That's funny.

It's also a testament to exactly why Britney's disastrous life does not deserve to be the focus of our national morning talk shows. The woman who was once a superstar is now so well-known for flashing her nether regions that her name is becoming synonymous with that very same region of female anatomy.

Sad. So sad. She was once so much more.

Tara

2007-10-01T22:54:00.000-04:00

Girl Friends & Eye Candy

2007-09-30T23:06:00.000-04:00

I had a lovely weekend spending time with my girl friends, doing yoga, and practicing my Swedish. Saturday night, I got drinks with Lakshmi and another close girl friend of mine at a great lounge in the East Village called Angel's Share. The entrance is unmarked at street level; to get to the lounge you have to climb a flight of stairs and go through a tightly packed Japanese restaurant.

Angle's Share is cool because there's no standing room and they do not permit groups larger than 4. Strict rules that they vigorously enforce, but they're worth it because they makes for a very relaxing, intimate atmosphere. The lounge has delicious drinks, including the best sake I've ever tasted, which isn't saying that much because I really haven't sampled all that much sake. However, the one I had last night - a milky, floral sake - was delish. They also have ridiculously cute waiters ala the barbarian desert warrior, Lo, from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, who kidnaps Zhang Zi Yi and brings her back to his sultry love den in the desert. Remember this?

I have such a weakness for men with goatees. Sigh. Pirates, buccaneers, desert warriors, Spanish swordsmen. You would think a girl would run into at least one of them in New York amidst the hordes of lawyers, bankers, and other professionals.

Speaking of outrageously attractive, fall-to-the-floor-in-a-panting-quivering-mess, hot men, when does the next season of LOST begin?

Girl friends are awesome, but I still miss my boy friends.

I'm off to bed. Wish me luck that that shot of Sawyer makes its way into my dreams. Yow-za.

Little, Happy, Blue!

2007-09-28T09:50:00.000-04:00

I've woken up to delicious smell of coffee every day this week. It makes me feel like I'm on vacation, or visiting my parents - I feel very adult. I've also saved myself approximately $25 dollars at Starbucks (the cost of one cup of coffee, gum, and a raspberry scone - items I am frequently compelled to buy upon entering a Starbucks location right before work), spared my body the extra calories of the raspberry scones, and saved the environment from being assaulted by 5 paper cups. Not bad, Buttercup. Not bad at all.

I talked with my friend Sammy-B (fka "Prue") last night, and she reminded me of our early days at the Firm From Hell. We're like war buddies who are eternally bonded after surviving some unspeakable horror (no disrespect to actual soldiers intended). I started telling her that I was feeling a little blue and that I was spending all this time thinking about being out of balanced, blah, blah, blah, and how I'm pretty sure I'm boring all of the people close to me along with all the readers of my blog. I mean seriously, how much can you hear one person talk about their efforts to change their life, going out in NYC, etc. Vomit. Just be already. She said, "You're crazy. You're life is about so much more than that. You're just a contemplative person. Don't worry." Contemplative, I like that. Way better than "over-analyzer." She's coming to NYC in November and I can't wait to see her. Yay!

I had an impromptu drink with my cousin last night after work. There I was kvetching about how I don't have things together in my life how I want them to be, I don't have the level of balance and motivation that I want to have, dating sucks, thinking about dating sucks, I need to find an activity, I'm boring and bored and I have crow's feet, blah, blah, blah. Are you detecting a pattern? She said, "What are you talking about? You're crazy. You're my hot, feminist cousin. That's what I tell everyone. You just over-analyze." I said, "Actually, I'm just contemplative." Point for Sammy-B. And, point for my cousin for being so cool and for thinking I'm cool. Very refreshing.

See how important girl friends are? They tell you when you're being crazy. Something I really need in my life - apparently.

One more little thing happened that's been making me smile. There's a boy at work that I'm friends with and there had been a moment of weirdness at the end of last week. As it turns out, I think I was over-analyzing - um, being too contemplative. He's cool and I really like him, so I'm glad things are back to normal.

All little things, none of which are blue, but all good.

p.s. The title and pic are for Pas and Bubbles and in honor of the game we played at that bar in Chicago.

Thursday Thirteen (Ghengis Khan)

2007-09-27T10:29:00.001-04:00

Thirteen Facts About Genghis Khan (13th Century)

(From the fascinating book that I'm currently reading, Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World)

1) He was not a "barbarian," and he did not command barbaric hordes.

2) He was an innovative military commander who excelled at battle, plains warfare, and sieges, and his army of Mongol horsemen was composed of tightly organized units of 10, 100, 1000, 10,000, and 100,000.

3) Genghis Khan was the son of an outcast family that was left to die on the steppes with his mother and siblings at a time when warring tribes fought one another across the steppes.

4) From his humble beginnings, he gradually and methodically conquered every tribe on the Mongolian steppe, unified them under his sole control, and then took his armies to conquer what would become modern-day China, parts of India, the Middle East, and Eastern Europe.

5) In 25 years, the Mongol army subjugated more lands and people than the Romans conquered in 400 years.

6) At its zenith, the Mongol empire covered between 11 and 12 million contiguous square miles, an area about the size of the African continent and considerably larger than North America, including the United States, Canada, Mexico, Central America, and the islands of the Caribbean combined.

7) Every where the Mongols went they collected (either as slaves or as new members of their empire) people of learning such as scribes, teachers, religious persons, and crafts people - and used their knowledge and skills to advance the empire.

8) Genghis Khan recognized that religious disagreements created strife between people, so he instituted complete religious freedom throughout the Mongol Empire.

9) The Mongol penetration into Eastern Europe in the 1200s decimated 100s of thousands of knights and the European aristocracy, brought new learning to the Europeans, and seems to have played a pivotal role in ushering Europe out of the Dark Ages and setting the stage for the Renaissance.

10) While the Mongol men were off conquering foreign countries, often on campaigns that lasted several years at a time, women ruled over every facet of the Empire.

11) The Mongols ate a diet consisting mainly of meat and dairy, and as a people they were stronger and hardier than the grain-fed soldiers of foreign nations that they fought against and repeatedly destroyed.

12) Genghis Khan's cavalry redrew the boundaries of the world, consolidating little kingdoms into united nations that still survive to this day, such as China.

13) At a time when most rulers considered themselves above the law, Genghis Khan insisted on laws holding rulers as equally accountable as the lowest herder.

Bonus: Genghis Khan abolished torture; instead he offered the people that he conquered two choices: die or swear complete loyalty to their new ruler.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It's easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted

Rape Conviction Leaves Polygamy Unchallenged

2007-09-26T10:04:00.000-04:00

The polygamist Warren S. Jeffs, a prophet for fundamentalist Mormons, was convicted of being an accomplice to the rape of a 14-year old girl for "orchestrating the marriage of the young girl under duress" back in 2001. The victim testified that she had been forced into a "celestial marriage" (plural marriage) that she did not want, to a cousin that she did not like. Prosecutors argued that Jeffs knew that the forced marriage would lead to "nonconsensual sex," i.e. rape, and the jury agreed.

What's most interesting to me about this case is that it was not about polygamy. Instead of charging Jeffs with polygamy per se, prosecutors went after Jeffs for statutory rape. The conviction is unquestionably positive with respect to its definition of rape. Though the article mentions no allegations of physical force, the jury still found that a rape had occurred based on a lack of consent and/or sex that occurred under duress. Of course, we're dealing with the rape of a minor, and the whole premise of statutory rape assumes a lack of consent on behalf of the minor, so perhaps I'm being too optimistic in terms of applauding the jury for their progressive definition of rape. Not knowing the applicable state law, I don't know whether an adult woman would have received the same level of justice had she been forced into non-consensual sex, i.e. rape.

That's one of the most fascinating aspects of rape law: Young women under a certain age are presumed not to consent - in fact, they are legally not allowed to consent - while women over a certain age are presumed to always consent, unless proven otherwise. If your below a certain age, the assumption is that you kept your legs closed; if your over a certain age, the assumption is that you willingly opened them. That's why so much of rape law - which continues to be quite antiquated - focuses on the issue of force. Instead of assuming that it's rape unless there is affirmative evidence of consent, our legal system assumes that it was consensual sex unless there was evidence of force. (Not all states, but many continue to have this assumption at the core of their rape law).

The problem with that is that sex continues to happen in our society in the context of inequality, and the reality of sex for many girls and women is not always, or even usually, an experience of equality. Set against the backdrop of inequality - gender, economic, age etc. - it's ridiculous for our legal system to assume consent when sex happens. At least in the case of minors - who are protected by statutory rape but also denied the ability to consent by that same law - our legal system approaches sex from a more realistic perspective that recognizes at least some of the power issues involved.

The conviction of Jeffs is a victory for the victim and a general victory for women's rights advocates. However, I'm disturbed that Jeffs was not also convicted under the anti-polygamy laws for polygamy. Although there are enclaves of fundamentalist Mormons spread out through the country flagrantly practicing polygamy and its attendant forced, child marriages against the law, the authorities consistently fail to take a stand against polygamy. Instead, the enclaves are allowed to exist relatively unmolested, despite the molestation and abuse that - by many accounts - goes on within those communities.

In America, we don't have to look to Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan to find examples of female oppression. It's right here in our own country and appears in many different forms, one of the most blatant examples of which are the fundamentalist Mormon enclaves led by men like Jeffs. In convicting him as an accomplice to statutory rape, our society has taken a step towards protecting the rights of children growing up within those enclaves. However, his conviction for rape leaves the broader issue of polygamy and its implications for the rights of women (in a patriarchal society) unexamined and unchallenged, and offers no clear protection for adult women within those enclaves. To offer protection to all women within those communities, in addition to enforcing the law of statutory rape, the authorities would also need to enforce the laws against polygamy, something which they have thus far been reluctant to do.

Heroes Recap

2007-09-25T00:54:00.000-04:00

SPOILER************SPOILER***************SPOILER

They're back! Tonight's season premier of Heroes was awesome. First things first, Mohinder looks hotter than ever. It's so nice to have him back in my living room. Better than how hot he looks is the fact that he's teamed up with Mr. Bennet to bring down The Company and their minions with the Midas Touch. Parkman's in on it too because he's living in Mohinder's flat with the little girl that's being terrorised (by Sylar?) in her dreams. There's something so perfectly wonderful about the picture of Mohinder and Parkman raising Molly together.

I feel bad for Claire, having to pretend she's not special in her new high school, but I have faith in her and I can't imagine that's going to last too long. Especially not when her new friend appears to have flying abilities. Although, he could be a trap set by the company to lure her out. I miss Zach though. He and Claire were cute. I also want her to sock it to all of the cheerleaders at her new school.

Is half of Nathan's face totally burned? Wow. I'm not digging the beard but it's understandable that he would be drowning his sorrows in a liquid diet after thinking that he had allowed Peter to die. What's up with his mom being part of secret society with Hero's dad? And Nathan's father and Linderman? Who's killing them off and why? The Company?

Hero in Japan with the samurai is thoroughly enjoying. The great samurai warrior is a British guy in search of easy cash! So much for the heroes of legend. I bet Hero convinces the warrior to give him his armor and then Hero does all of the deeds that late become legend. That's why the warrior's sword is meaningful to Hero - because it's actually his sword, the sword he used when he became the stuff of legends 400 years ago. That's my guess anyway.

What did the girl trying to cross the border with her brother do to all those people? Maybe the sound of her screams melted their brains and made them bleed out of their eyes? Or just her emotional pain? Either way, fascinating. I like her. She's a keeper.

The best surprise was Peter chained up in the box. Poor Peter, but he's a live! And adorable! And, from the looks of things, way more powerful. He shot a blue fire bolt out of his hand. If only I could do that - my legal day job would be a distant memory.

The only ones missing that I really wanted to see? Nicki and Jessica. They're my favorite.

Awesome start to the season. What did y'all think?

One Grind At A Time

2007-09-24T09:57:00.000-04:00

As many of you know, I've been trying to create the type of life that I want to have, one in which I feel in tune with myself and my ideals, where I nourish my soul and feed my passions, where I'm at peace in the present, balanced, and completely happy with me. It's harder than one would think. I date the beginning of this effort to around the time I eliminated two major causes of toxicity - a job and a boy - from my life. With those two negative elements pruned away, I was free to focus on making positive changes for me (many of which were kind of about rediscovering me), and that's what I started to do.

I found a new job that I really enjoy, built new friendships, and took a trip that I had been wanting to take for years. I tried a diet, started going to the gym more frequently, and opened myself up to new social experiences, dating, and enjoying this amazing city and all that it has to offer in the way of restaurants, clubs, museums, outdoor space, and, of course, shopping. Kidding (kind of). I assumed a new motto, which though not neatly encapsulated in any little phrase, is about living life in the present, trying to focus on being happy now, and making each moment the best that it can be. It's about making the changes that I want to make now, at once, and not waiting any longer to be who and what I want to be. A worthy goal.

Though I have accomplished a lot, there's still a lot I need to do. I'm still far away from where I want to be, and I don't know why. Attaining balance, for example, has proved elusive. I understand that many people, including yogis, struggle for years and entire lifetimes to attain a state of balance, and I recognize that I'm in good company in my current state of failure (or current state of partial success). However, I want it now, and it frustrates me that I haven't done a better job of reaching that point.

Part of it is the city. There's so much going on here all the time - much of it fantastic, pleasurable, and stimulating -it's hard not to feel stretched thin on a regular basis. Part of it is my job. I'm a lawyer for a large corporate law firm in New York. Even under the best of circumstances, working with the best people, it's stressful, and it's a challenge to make good choices to deal with that stress (such as yoga instead of happy hour). Part of it is being single. I'm on my own - along with my friends and family - in this journey at the moment; I don't have that sense of stability, security, or added strength that comes from being involved with a loving partner. I'm also dating, which with its ups and downs, uncertainties, doubts, and unknown future poses its own challenges, many of which, on occasion, pluck away at my best efforts to be wholly happy in the now.

I don't like that dating does that to me. I don't like that I'm the type of person who could have my center pricked and bruised and thrown off kilter by the unknowns of the dating world. As I think I've expressed before, I'd like to be impervious, invulnerable, and perfectly and absolutely one hundred percent happy in my singledom. I hate, loathe, and despise more than words could ever say that sometimes I feel like I'm missing something from the present by the mere fact that I'm not in a relationship. Ugh, did I just say that? I don't want to be that woman - the type of woman that needs a man to be happy. I know that I'm not that woman. But yet, I also know that I'm not completely 100% happy in my singledom, and I must admit that I think it would make me happy to fall madly in love with someone terrific. Or to go on a date with someone terrific. Or someone remotely interesting, for that matter.

I don't like nor want to get emotionally caught up in the dating thing. I realize that's a funny thing to say for someone who also says that she wants to fall in love, which would presumably involve the embroiling of emotions. That raises the question of whether I truly want to fall in love right now. Good question. The truth is that I just don't know.

No, that's not right.

The truth is that a part of me does not want to fall in love right now. I haven't yet attained in my singledom the life that I want for me. I want to fully maximize and appreciate this time when I'm on my own (and that's why it irks me that sometimes the pitfalls of dating make me blue). I want to make more of the changes that I've been trying to make forever. I'm sure your familiar with the litany by now: yoga, going to the gym regularly, meditating, being healthy, etc. I want to prune away the rest of the negativity, get my shit in order, fill up on positive elements, and make my life how I want it to be, now. Before some boy waltzes in and mucks things up.

This weekend, I took some much-needed me time and turned something that could have been negative and discombobulating into a positive wake-up call. I spent Saturday cleaning my room, sorting though piles of paper and boxes that I hadn't gone through since moving out of my Ex's place, getting rid of old clothes, and reorganizing. The end result was a far less cluttered bedroom that is actually quite cute and inviting now that a portion of the junk has been cleared away. Internally, I feel less cluttered as well. On Saturday night, I went out but kept my alcohol intake to one drink and then called it an early night (1:00 am) so that I could wake up refreshed on Sunday morning for yoga and church.

That's right. How much to I rock? I did yoga and went to church this morning, and I'm not even religious. I did yoga on my newly de-cluttered floor from a DVD that I had bought months ago but never opened. The DVD is called "Yoga For Happiness," and the guy who leads it is not only hot, but also really funny. His name is Eoin, and I think I just might make him my new imaginary boyfriend. To give you a taste of his sense of humor, while I was leaning into pigeon pose, Eoin said, "Feel the honey in your hip." Recall that pigeon is not the most comfortable pose to hold for more than a few seconds. He encouraged us to lean into it more, and while I summoning my energy and grimacing, he said, "it should feel good, like someone licking ice cream off of your body." What?? Bent over my knee, I burst out laughing and then easily leaned in to the pose more.

This is what I need more of in my life. Eoin. OK, fine, not him. Someone like Eoin? No, focus. I need yoga and other activities that give me something positive in return when I put my energy into them; activities that make me feel happy, healthy, grounded, and balanced. Things that cultivate and nourish the happiness that I have within me, and build a sense of security, peace, and satisfied joy. Visions of hot men licking ice cream off of my yoga-fied body are also perfectly acceptable.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that this weekend, though it started off with a little emotional dip, I managed to turn it into something really great and productive that ultimately made me feel balanced and happy - exactly what I've been striving for! Granted, it's how I feel now, and tomorrow may be a totally different story. But, for right now, I'm proud of me. Along with cleaning, yoga, and church I also bought a host of new kitchen appliances that I've been meaning to get for ages, including a super fancy blender and a programmable coffee-maker.

One of my dreams has been to become the type of person who has her life so together that she wakes up each morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and then sets out to face the day with her non-Starbuck's coffee-filled, eco-friendly, reusable mug in hand.

Sometimes it takes big changes to become the person you want to be. Other times it takes small ones. Tomorrow at 8:00 am, barring some technical malfunction, I will be just a tiny bit closer to becoming the me that I want to be. I can't wait.

For The Inquiring Minds

2007-09-20T11:51:00.000-04:00

I had a nice time, but my date tried to hold my hand.

Ok, he did hold my hand. But, only for a minute until I could comfortably reach for my wine glass.

I have this thing about men being overtly affectionate on the first date. It weirds me out. Hand holding, cheek stroking, and other romantic, sweet, deliberate gestures that say "I like you and I want to be close to you," - instead of the more usual "I want to rip off your clothes" - when there's no way the former sentiment could have had time to develop.

I understand the latter sentiment and men who sleep with women on the first date. Although I'm not personally in to that, I generally understand why people do it and what they get out of it. When I'm faced with that, it's fairly easy to deal with. Either I say no, blow the guy off, or say yes. It's relatively simple when it's clear that it's just about sex and nothing more, and though it can make me feel many things, awkwardness is not one of them.

But, hand holding on the first date is a different matter, and it usually makes me feel super awkward. For me, holding someone's hand is about feeling a connection to them, genuinely liking them, and having a certain warmth for them, feelings that take more than a few hours to develop. When someone takes your hand when you're not expecting it, when you've basically only just met them, it's a little off-putting. It's like they're stepping too quickly across an emotional chasm that exists between two strangers for good reason.

Looking at my hand last night as it was being held by my date's hand, I felt like it was a strange thing disconnected from my body, like a dead fish. I was aware of feeling vaguely uncomfortable, even though the experience itself was fine. I mean, there's nothing intrinsically wrong with physical touching and affection. As a general matter, I'm quite affectionate. But, not on first dates, and not with people I don't know.

My brother Frey understands my feelings. He called today from London to see how I was doing. When I told him that my date had held my hand on our first date, he paused for a second to ponder it, and then said, "Weird."

It is weird.

Drink Time

2007-09-19T14:22:00.000-04:00

I have a date tonight with a guy that I met last weekend while out with a bunch of my girl friends at Pravda. One of the girls in my group picked up my date and his friend as they were walking by on the street outside of the club, and they ended up hanging out with our group for the remainder of the night. While his friend was canoodling with one of my friends over vodka martinis, he and I started talking and then ended up dancing until 3:30 am at Vig Bar.

It's good to have proactive girl friends like that.

The evening ended with him walking me to a cab and asking for my number. A couple of days later, he emailed, then I emailed, then he called, then emailed, I emailed back, and ta-da, we have a date for this evening. We're meeting up around 8 pm for drinks. I think we might go to an outdoor place as it's beautiful out today, and it's probably one of the last days we'll have like this before summer fades away.

In terms of stats, he's a lawyer, but as I explained to my Dad, so are half the men in New York so it's a hard thing to avoid. He's also a few years older than me, a partner (gasp!), taller than me by a few inches (nice), and he appears to have a sense of humour along with being a friendly, decent guy. I think he also might be environmentally conscious - which would be a pleasant surprise - based on a comment that he made about riding his bike as a means of trying to limit the burning of fossil fuels on the weekend. It was cute; I liked it.

I think I'm looking forward to it. If nothing else, I'm sure it will be fun and it will be nice to be outside. Worst case scenario, I'll leave after a drink and resume watching Season 1 of Heroes on DVD. I can't wait for next week's season premier!

Excellent Evening

2007-09-17T22:20:00.000-04:00

Today was a good day because... I went running. I motivated and left work at a little after 6 pm, and then ran for over 4 miles. I'm psyched. I've noticed that though it's sometimes hard to make myself go to the gym, usually once I'm there and running I end up feeling great. It's probably the endorphins, but I think it's also just being proud of myself for motivating. While I'm running I'm also aware of my body in a way that I'm not throughout most of the day, and that awareness usually leads to an appreciation of its strength, and how cool it is that my body can do things like run 4 miles. It makes me want to nurture and care for it and feed it lots of protein and green leafy vegetables (not fudgsicles).

I think women, including me, need to do that more, think about why they should love and value their bodies, as opposed to focusing on what's wrong with them. I don't spend enough time valuing my body for everything that's great about it and treating it the way I should. It's a superb machine and it needs certain things to function at an optimum level, and too often I deprive it of nutrients and feed it semi-toxic things like sugar (and spoonfuls of peanut butter).

After I went running, I stopped by Origins and bought plantidote face serum because I really digg Dr. Weil and all of his mushroom-based potions. One of the new things I saw there today that I want to try some time are mini herb flavored honey-ies. So cute, and I love that honey can be so beneficial for the body. Yum. After Origins, I went to a little boutique for some more hanky panky undies. I've decided to throw away almost all of my other underwear because all I wear anymore is hanky panky. The rest of my undies just sit in a pile smushed together in the pack of my drawer. They need to be pruned. It's on my list, as is purging my closet of any piece of clothing that I haven't worn for the past year. Egads! I don't know if I can do it, but it's on the list.

Another thing that made me happy today was that I bought a "calm to your senses" lavender and vanilla scented candle at Origins. I lit it in my bedroom and then went downstairs to make dinner. An hour later, when I went back upstairs, my room smelled amazing! So luscious and relaxing. I love it. Every time I light candles, it makes me happy. I think it also makes me feel calmer and more at peace. I need to remember to light candles more often. It's a nice way to really be in the moment.

Photo by Buttercup - Garden in Millennium Park, Chicago

Powerpuff Girls and Mojo-Jojo In Chi-Town

2007-09-16T23:08:00.001-04:00

I just came back from Chicago, where I had a wonderful visit with my girl friends from law school whom I had not seen for almost 10 months. The last time I saw them was for Pas's wedding, a wedding that I had been supposed to attend with EXBF. However, we broke up a day before the wedding, so I made the trip alone. My girl friends - Pas, Bubbles, and Wood - saved me that weekend. They distracted me from this, with this, gave me hugs, brought me tissues, made sure my wine glass was always filled, and made it clear that in their minds EXBF was the lowest form of pond scum on the planet. A sentiment which is not unappreciated, even now. I tried to be strong and to hold it together through the wedding.

Remembering that last trip to see them, I recalled things I hadn't thought about for a while. The journey to see them and the wedding are a blur. It was after all of that, while I was on my way home to face the emptiness inside our apartment, that I clearly remember not being able to hold it together any longer. Waiting to board my plane to New York, I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't sobbing or making a spectacle of myself in the airport, but I couldn't stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes and streaming down my face. I kept squeezing tissues against my eyes and face, trying to will the tears to stop, but they kept coming.

I must have looked a mess, because at one point, while I was sitting on the floor leaning against a wall, a man approached me to see if I was all right. He leaned down towards me and asked if I was OK. I looked up and saw that he had brought me a glass of water. I tried to muster up a reassuring smile, but then got emotional all over again at his kindness and started crying while at the same time nodding to him that I was OK.

I think about that now and it no longer makes me sad. Instead, it stands out as an example of how caring human beings can be to one another (if they want to be). I have no idea where that man got the glass of water or for how long he had been watching me cry that day. But, to this day it amazes me that a perfect stranger was so thoughtful. It's comforting that people like that exist, and it's pretty incredible.

As are my friends, and that's what this post is supposed to be about: My Amazing Girl Friends. The official purpose of this trip was to surprise Bubbles, who turns 30 this coming week. The little 3-0, how cute! Wood and Pas organized all the logistical details (my only job, which I carried off successfully, was getting to Chicago), and we set it up so that Bubbles knew that Wood was coming in to town, but had no idea that Pass and I were also going to be there. On Friday night, I texted Wood after landing at Midway, got directions to the bar where she and Bubbles were at, and then hopped in to a taxi to meet them. On the way to the bar, I was positively giddy. I love surprises!

Thirty minutes later, I reached the bar, located Bubbles and Wood sitting at the bar, and sidled up into the seat right next to Bubbles. She turned to her right to glance at me, and I stared directly at her not saying anything, waiting for her reaction. For a few seconds, her expression was a big, "Oh!" Exactly the reaction Wood and I had hoped for.

The next morning, after walking around the Japanese Garden and down by the Lake (so beautiful!) in Hyde Park, we pulled a similar stunt when Pas and her husband arrived, and just like that the four of us (+ 1) were together again, talking about everything, drinking beers (or in the case of Pas, $9 martinis), and being silly. As always happens when I see them, the visit left me with the overwhelming feeling of wishing that we all still lived in the same place.

I'd love it if we all lived closer together, but barring that ideal scenario, I'm just really glad that I have them as friends. 10 months is too long to go in between visits, but there's something wonderful about the fact that even though 10 months had gone by, it still felt basically the same to see each other as it had the last time we were together. We talk on the phone, over email, and through our blogs, so even though they're far away, they're not. The best part of seeing them was that it wasn't all about catching up. We didn't need to catch up because we basically knew what was going on in each other's lives. It was more about just being together, knowing they were right beside me instead of half way across the country for a change.

I already miss them, but more than sadness I just feel really happy that I was able to see them. They're awesome, and I'm lucky to have them in my life.

Being a Gentile Is The Bomb

2007-09-13T00:16:00.000-04:00

Jewish holidays are the best. Being the non-believer that I am, I didn't realize today was Rosh Hashana until yesterday afternoon when my partner informed me that our office would be closed today for the Jewish holiday. Could anything be better than a free day just dropping out of the sky like that? At my old firm, all the non-Jewish folks had to work on Jewish holidays. I love working for a firm full of Jewish lawyers. It is awesome.

I took full advantage of the windfall by sleeping in, going running down by the river, doing a bit of work from the comfort of my bedroom, and meeting my friends at a boutique champagne sale downtown. I bought a sparkly purple party dress from a Japanese designer that made me feel slightly like a giant blueberry but in a fun celebratory, fashionista sort of way. It's all about confidence and with a banging pair of silver heels, I think I can pull it off.

Today was so good, I hardly need a daily dose of positivity, but here goes:

Thursday's DDP: My therapist called me and I called her back. We talked about the bad session we had on Thursday and I decided to go in another time to see if we could repair the relationship. I'm seeing her next Tuesday and I'm glad about it. Very mature of me, I must say. It made me happy because I know that if I lost this relationship, particularly on such negative terms, it would have made me really sad. I've been going to her for over 2 years! I also texted Bacchus, who texted me back. It's a baby step, but a step nonetheless.

Hope everyone else had an equally positive Rosh Hashana!

New Leaves

2007-09-12T09:29:00.000-04:00

I'm turning over a new leaf, two of them actually.

I feel like, especially lately (when I've had the chance to write), I've been spending a fair amount of time on the blog regaling you all with angst-filled stories (Exhibit A), hopefully with touches of humor amidst the emotional turmoil. It's therapeutic, interesting to me, and often times enjoyable to write. However, I don't want my life or my blog to focus just upon the angst-filled moments. I want perspective.

I've decided to change - the blog at least - in one small, but positive, way. For the rest of the month of September, I'm going to try to post about at least one positive thing each day, in addition to the usual stuff. I think it will help me keep a bit of perspective, and I think it's more of what I'd like my blog (and me) to be. I mean, emotional turmoil is entertaining and all, but it can look negative (especially if the dark, dry humor is missed) and I think it's important to balance the craziness with some pure positivity.

Daily Dose Of Positivity: That's the first leaf. The second leaf is also the subject of today's first positivity post: I've decided to start waking up earlier during the work week and today - drum roll please - I did it! I set my alarm for 7:30 am this morning and actually got up on the first buzz. Due to my diligence, I was showered, blow-dried, and out the door by 8:30 and in the office by 8:50 am. That's the earliest I've been in for a while. Go me!!

I want to wake up earlier mainly because I think it will help me organize my days and weeks better. If I wake up early, I'll get in earlier and I will have a few extra minutes to get things together for the day before it begins in full force. On days when I don't have to wash my hair (I wash it every other day), I could do pilates. That's the plan so far, and I'm going to do my best to stick to it.

But, for today, I'm just proud of me for waking up at 7:30 am. Awesome.

Photo found here.

Post-Emotional Meltdown

2007-09-07T11:13:00.000-04:00

It turns out that I jumped the gun a little bit when I said I was back to relative normal. What would have been more accurate was to say that I was emotionally spent, physically exhausted, and teetering on the edge of an emotional meltdown.

I suppose 5 days of massive emotional stress trying to care for two high risk teenagers, a ton of work, my period, taking the red-eye and then going to work, and total physical exhaustion will do that to a person.

I had a fight with my therapist last night.

Have you ever even heard of such a thing?

I love my therapist. For over a year and a half she's been an integral part of my support system, an we've had an extremely positive and productive relationship. But last night, I came very close to writing her a final check and storming out of her office. Honestly, I wanted to curse at her, tell her to fuck off, and slam the door in her office so hard that the frame shook. I have a lot of experience doing that sort of thing from years of fights growing up.

I'm not going to go into the details other than to say that it was about scheduling. What a completely stupid thing to have a meltdown over, right? But, because of they way she brought it up, and (mostly) because of the emotional/exhausted state that I was in when I saw her I ended up feeling attacked, vulnerable, and like she didn't care at all. And, I couldn't handle it. What I needed was some support, not to have more bullshit dumped on top of me. I actually needed her. It wasn't about boys or food or stupid shit. It was something where I actually could have used some support. Do you know what I did? I completely closed down and withdrew.

It's like reaching for something and having someone slam down a window on your fingertips. You withdraw your hand and don't reach out again.

Fuck. A year and a half of therapy and I still can be pushed to that point. So much for progress. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I basically acted out a hard-wired response that would no doubt be fruitful to discuss if we are able to repair the relationship, which I don't know about right now.

I'm really upset about it. It's like a disturbance in the force.

I actually have two disturbances in the force right now, in terms of my web of relationships. My younger brother, Bacchus, and I aren't speaking to one anther at the moment, and now a fight with CG. It's awful.

You know what, I'm just too exhausted to deal with any of this right now, and plus I can't because I'm at work and I need to take care of a bunch of things. She made me really angry last night and today I feel hurt (I also feel bad because I may have hurt her). For the first time, I think I truly understood how my clients feel when they talk about hating their therapists. It's a relationship where you are, out of necessity, completely emotionally vulnerable, and because of that, you can end up hurt.

I'm sad.

I'll process this weekend. Rumi's back. The apartment is clean, which is nice, and we stayed up until 1 am catching up. Me with my puffy eyes and her dressed to the nines talking about breaking up with her boyfriend in the same breath as she's saying he's taking her to Europe in a few weeks.

The good news? I'm going to have a bath tub all to myself in less than two weeks. God, do I need that. Oh, also, I started knitting again. I'm knitting a scarf for one of my little teenage friends. A turquoise scarf.

Back To Relative Normal

2007-09-06T15:13:00.000-04:00

So, I'm out of the rabbit hole for the time being. In the end, the only way to stop feeling like I was being devoured by work was to finish the work, and that's what I did through a series of consecutive 17-billable-hour days The anxiety and my inability to cope (without eating trash) with it is another issue. I dealt with that too just by pushing through, doing what I needed to do, and trying my best, along with one or two strategically placed Clonzapins.

The suggestions about kittens, yoga, 15 minute walks, healthy snacks, and incorporating all of those things into my daily life as my life, not just the things I do to cope with my life were all excellent. They all speak to this struggle I've had now for years to attain (or reattain) a sense of balance. Although I procrastinate, on the flip side I regularly function like a workaholic - throwing myself completely into my work during crunch times, with no time or ability to make time for non-work things (the things that, if I did them regularly as part of my life would give me a sense of overall balance). In that regard, I'm no different than a lot of lawyers working for large New York firms (and many others in many different professions and cities, I imagine).

Recently, a friend of mine, a lawyer at my former law firm, described the situation of being a type-A personality at a New York law firm as similar to being "an alcoholic working in a bar." There's some truth in that analogy. I like doing well and I like pats on my head. I am in a sense addicted to working hard, doing well. Put someone like me in an environment that defines success in their employees, defines "doing well," as working 300 hours a week and I'm in serious trouble because there's a huge part of me that wants to do it, that has trouble not rising to the occasion, at least without being overcome by near-crippling anxiety and guilt. It's hard to refrain from drinking, particularly when you've been brought up to believe that you are supposed to drink, that you are good if you drink and weak if you refrain.

So, how does one cope in that situation? In my case, I jump into rabbit holes where nothing else exists except for work and I don't come out until I've finished the work. It's similar to how I've approached studying for final exams for most of my life. It was fun while a student, but now, not so much - particularly when it messes up my gym schedule or leaves me too tired to motivate.

I don't know what the answer to any of this is yet. A few days ago, I mentioned to a women's rights lawyer twenty years my senior how I still hadn't managed to attain a sense of balance since leaving law school and starting to practice. She laughed and said she hadn't figured it out yet either. Then she suggested leaving New York and moving to San Francisco.

Art found here.

Stuck In A Rabbit Hole

2007-09-01T16:24:00.001-04:00

In the saga of my life, the last two weeks will hereafter be known as the Digital Ash In Underground weeks, because I've been listening to the Bright Eyes album, Digital Ash In a Digital Urn in a constant mini-loop. I've been jumping over the first three songs, mainly because "Arc of Time" is so upbeat it's distracting.

I've been starting my loop with "Down in a Rabbit Hole." It's dark, intense, and kind of sad and the perfect backdrop against which to make scads of tables and charts. The lyrics start with, "I heard you fell into a rabbit hole, covered yourself up in snow. Baby, tell me where'd you go for days and days? Do they make you stay up all night? Did they paint your face that pasty white?" Lyrics are very important to me, almost more important than the actual sound of a song. This song has been speaking to me, because that's how I feel, like I've fallen into a rabbit hole for days and days.

It's dark and cramped in the rabbit hole and there's only room for a few things including work and the pro-bono work I've been doing for my two young friends. The rabbit hole is deep and it's hard to climb out of it. Instead, I've used any down time in the rabbit hole to fatten myself up on candy, yogurt covered pretzels, and disgusting quantities of junk food, as if there was a siege coming on that I had to be prepared for. Anxiety is like that, it fills you with fear about what is to come, and makes it very difficult to exist in the present. Anxiety in a dark, super intense rabbit hole is even worse because there's no counter-balancing influences. A few of my friends and family have tried to call, but it's been too much effort to stop what I've been doing and to reach out to them from the depths of the hole.

Not that this is necessarily bad. It's definitely not like when I was working at my old firm, and instead of rabbit holes I was constantly adrift in a toxic, putrid sea of despair and frustration. Here, the rabbit hole is not the product of evil. It's just a place I've fallen in to while trying to get everything done that I need to (with the exception of the ridiculous jaunt to Fire Island which only worsened things by making me hungover, sick, and so tired).

I'd prefer not to have to sequester myself in rabbit holes when in super-stress mode. I'd prefer to be able to take breaks, do yoga, and eat healthfully, while working around the clock. But, that's so hard for me right now. It's been hard for me for a while. It's so hard when I'm in the middle of a mountain of work to force myself to take time to relax. It's actually basically impossible.

I think it's one of the reasons I've been eating more than usual. I think I've been using food to force myself to relax. I think I've been using it as a coping mechanism to sooth my anxiety. Do any of you do that? I've been toying with this idea for a while, but the more I think about it the more I think there's some truth there. For example, during the past two weeks, other than my brief, drunken jaunt to Fire Island, I've taken no time away from work and I've been working very late, and I've had almost no time at all where I felt genuinely relaxed (I also wasn't relaxed in Fire Island, just inebriated).

For most of the two weeks, I've been a ball of anxiety. It's been hard to get to sleep. I've had intense dreams and have had to rely on sleeping pills to get my mind to quiet down. I've been going at this constant level of intensity, and again, it's not bad, I don't feel at any kind of breaking point, but I do feel kind of exhausted. And, I'm just realizing how difficult it is for me to relax in the midst of all of these demands. It's hard to relaxed when immersed in a rabbit hole. Particularly, when teenagers are depending on me, and when I don't have a bath-tub.

I leave for California tomorrow and will have an intense 5 days of work there. I'm taking the red eye back in the middle of the week and am already internally cringing at the amount of sleep I won't get that night. Thursday and Friday will be rough, mainly because I'll be sleep deprived and I might have to play catch-up at work.

However, next weekend, things should be better. By next weekend, my two young friends will be resettled, Sven will be gone, Rumi will be back, and a series of deadlines in my cases will have passed. I can't wait. I just want to relax.

But, I want to really relax (like I was supposed to be doing right now in Detroit). I want to run and be healthy and enjoy my time sitting still. I'm so sick of going, going, going until I have to drug myself to shut down. That's the dark side of the rabbit hole. I'm thinking of cutting out caffeine and alcohol, starting a gratitude journal and fasting. My friend Simone said I am capable of change and that it is only me who is holding me back (I thought that was slightly unnecessary, though true).

Ok, I've got to go jump back down into the hole. When I poke my head out next, I would be very interested to see if anyone has any non-drug and non-food related ideas for how one can force oneself to relax in the midst of work-related anxiety and stress. Please don't say meditation. There's no where to sit comfortably down here.

Hoping

2007-08-31T02:27:00.000-04:00

I'm neglecting my friends. I haven't seen Pele for weeks, haven't written Lakshmi back, and haven't gone climbing with Sage.

I'm neglecting my family. I've only had snippets of conversation with my mom, and when I did I didn't even thank her for the sweet note she sent me a few days ago. At least I remembered to call Bean on her birthday.

I'm neglecting my whole health-kick. Whatever.

I'm neglecting dating. Ditto.

I'm neglecting my blog and my blog friends, but I trust you will understand.

Two young people need me right now, and I'm doing my best to be there for them. They're moving away and I'm going to miss them far more than I can put into words. They are extraordinary and they deserve to have a normal life, but that's all they want. They want a normal life free of abuse, where they can have a place to live, the opportunity to pursue an education, and the ability to work.

It's not much to ask for, and it oftentimes makes my chest hurt that I can't do more for them than I'm doing, that I can't magically fix everything that they need fixed.

One of my favorite things is making them laugh. I don't care if I'm being silly and they're laughing at my silliness. I don't care at all if they're laughing at me. Seeing them smile and laugh until their stomachs hurt, for a few minutes their faces free of the usual clouds of worry, fills me with a sense of perfect contentment, and a deep conviction that if nothing else, with respect to them, I've actually done something in my life. I've done something good. I've made a contribution.

But, it's the kind of contribution that doesn't come to an end at a finite moment in time, something that I've come to realize many people do not understand (including many people who work in the dark underbelly of the non-profit world). It's like that with human lives. You can't just pick one up, fix a part of it, and then drop it back into the ether to fend for itself. Helping has responsibilities when you're dealing with a human life.

I have that sense of responsibility and I am not burdened by it. What they have brought in to my life in terms of meaning, purpose, and happiness is as great or greater than anything I've been able to give them. If you knew them, you would feel the same.

I just want them to be OK. And, for right now, that's all I can think about.

2007-08-30T22:20:00.000-04:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAN!!

The Man For Me

2007-08-30T13:23:00.000-04:00

What type of man do I really want?

That's the question I've been pondering since my most recent match.com date last night. I seem to be of two minds on this question. On the one hand, I want a man who is not superficial, not materialistic, sensitive, socially aware, intelligent, a bit of an intellectual, and someone who appreciates books. I'd also like him to be progressive, liberal, and a bit artsy (by "artsy" I mean something other than a lawyer with no outside interests). Stereotypical traditional men need not apply.

Or, so I was thinking until last night.

My date was a 34-year old European-American with a background in theater and film. Good age, check. Interesting background, check. Cultured, check. Decent job, check. We had good conversation about law, America's obsession with designer handbags, travelling, music, the challenges of supporting oneself through public interest work, and the dark underbelly of non-profits. He's tall (6'4"), blond, and relatively good-looking (with the exception of one errant tooth - but the Europeans aren't as into braces as Americans so you kind of have to let that slide) . He also seemed considerate, like a good listener, and over all like a decent, interesting guy.

The problem?

No chemistry. Not a flicker.

Instead, while he was talking about fashion, I was musing to myself that he might be gay (which didn't make sense because no gay man in New York would have been caught dead in his multi-colored shirt). I decided he wasn't gay, and that he was just European and artsy, but then we started talking about sports.

He, like me, hates sports. Readers of this blog have heard me express my disdain of sports on numerous occasions. You've heard me talk about how my EXBF inflicted Michigan Football upon me against my will (and also chose it over me on many occasions), and you've heard me complain how wretched it is to come home to my apartment to find Sven glued to the TV watching one sports show after another, day after day. In light of this history, one would think that my date's dislike of sports would have been a plus in his favor, right?

Wrong. Instead - and I swear this is true - when he said he hated sports and never watched football, I viscerally became less attracted to him than I had been up to that point in the evening. What's wrong with me? His comments struck me as effeminate and slightly suspicious. Did I just call a guy effeminate? That is not the type of reaction an ardent feminist who vehemently believes in the abolishment of traditional gender roles should have. I say again, what's wrong with me??

It's true that as a general rule I'm not a fan of sports. But, I'll admit (just to you) that I've enjoyed, on occasion, curling up with a boy while he's watching sports, even if that sport was Michigan Football (there's a lot I'll do as long as I'm being continuously petted). I've enjoyed the back and forth that comes with having different interests and bargaining over what he'll do for me if I do something nice for him, like snuggle with him while he watches a game. I think boys are kind of cute when they get all riled up about a team, as long as they're not choosing sports over you or planning their activities around sports every minute of the day. I also really appreciate getting an occasional dose of this and this.

The idea of a man not liking sports at all strikes me as a little strange. Or not even strange, per se. It's actually worse than that. It strikes me as ... not sexy. Right, because beer guts and Superbowl parties are so sexy. Clearly, I have a lot of ambivalence about this and need to process.

But, getting back to my date. I definitely had a negative reaction in response to learning that he did not like sports. It was the last straw that made my body (or my gut?) say, "Oh, we can't like this type of man." This happened despite actually enjoying this male's company.

And that's the thing that's got me atwitter. If on the one hand I'm actively looking for men that are atypical men, but on the other hand turned off by qualities shared by those same men, we're going to have a problem. I'm going to be single for life!

In actuality, both my body and my mind know what they want. They want a man who is traditionally masculine on the outside but sensitive on the inside. That man does not have to like sports. But, he does have to know how to pet me...

...along with being socially aware, sensitive, a bit of an intellectual, progressive, cultured, considerate and emotionally available.

Is that so much to ask?

Slightly Envious of Sleeping Beauty

2007-08-28T22:50:00.000-04:00

How quickly things change: Three weeks ago my biggest obsessions of the moment were random boys that I was sort of dating and the whole nutritionist-weight-loss-rebellion debacle. For the last two weeks, work has eclipsed all of that. I find myself longing for the days when I had nothing more than food and boys to plague my dreams.

I still like my new job about 10,000 times better than my old job, and it is rewarding enough and the late nights are relatively infrequent enough to make it worth it for now. But, be that as it may, I have been getting killed at work. My sleep is suffering, and when my sleep suffers, I suffer. My little jaunt to Fire Island and the world of everlasting college-dom, drinking games, and raucous partying did not help matters. And, I just found out yesterday - 6 hours after booking a flight to visit my friend Wood over Labor Day weekend - that I have to fly to California this weekend for work instead. I was so looking forward to chilling in D-Town with Wood and her family, but alas, no break for me at the moment.

Despite the busy work schedule, I'm squeezing in another match.com date tomorrow evening. My first match.com date went remarkably well. The guy was friendly, fun, and entertaining. We talked a lot about music and shows and very little about work - amazing as we're both corporate lawyers and work's often all corporate lawyers have to talk about. He also taught me two random things, one of which was that the northern part of Texas is called "the panhandle" because it looks like a Panhandle!! Who knew! I can't remember the other random thing, but it was interesting at the time.

A funny thing happened on the way to the bathroom when I was crossing a stretch of heavily polished floor, thankfully out of sight of our table: I totally bit it. My heel slid on the glossy floor and I landed flat on my back in the middle of the hotel lobby (we had met at a hotel bar for drinks) surrounded by a crowd of milling gawkers, none of whom offered me their hand. I'd had three drinks so it was no easy matter rebalancing myself and getting back up on the slick surface. Yikes. I was still laughing about it by the time I got back to our table.

Tomorrow night, I'm meeting another guy from match.com for a drink after work at a place near where we both work. He sounds smart, interesting, and relatively normal. He's also bi-cultural (one European and one American parent - like me!) and 6' 4". Very nice. Overall he seems like a nice guy, so I'm almost - but not quite - looking forward to it. One can't get too crazy about these things, as I learned several weeks ago when one of the match.com boys cancelled on me 4 hours before the date! Hmph.

I'm headed to bed now to get my beauty sleep, and I'm crossing my fingers that work goes relatively smoothly tomorrow.

I'm starting to feel like I need a vacation!

Tuesday Eye-Candy

2007-08-27T23:56:00.001-04:00

You know those Mondays that leave you so exhausted, drained (and in my case seriously pissed off) that you feel as if the week has already been a long and torturous one even though you still have four more days left?

On those kind of Mondays, there are very few things that will bring a smile to a girl's face short of a fantastic partner who's made her dinner, drawn her a bubble bath, and offered to give her a foot rub later on in the evening.

But, here's one of them: Behold the latest picture of Mohinder Suresh, courtesy of Popsugar, in all of his eye-candy glory. Here are some older ones.

And, just for fun, here's another one:

Sendhil Ramamurthy is one devastatingly attractive male. He also looks kind of chilly. I think he needs some Buttercup action to warm him up. I'm an excellent snuggler...

Kat's Cool

2007-08-26T21:17:00.000-04:00

As you may have noticed, last week was so busy that short of a post on rambunctious turtles, I had no time to write. I was completely swamped at work and stayed late every night, until around 1 am, and as late as 3:30 one night. In the end, I got everything done that I needed to by Friday, just in time to take off for Fire Island for the weekend.

Fire Island is a small, picturesque island somewhere in the vicinity of Long Island (I'm NYC-geographically challenged) that feels a little like the Cape with no cars. On the train headed out to they ferry, I was imagining a relaxing weekend filled with lazing around on the beach and solid sleep. Instead, and in large part thanks to "Rocket Fuel," Fire Island's drink speciality, I spent Saturday night dancing, drinking, and bar-hopping around the Island's four bars until 5:20 in the morning. It was a lot of fun.

When I woke up today at noon, I felt like I had been run over by a 747. It's sad to say but I'm getting too old for this. My body no longer bounces back from copious amounts of alcohol and little to no sleep.

Now, it's 9:30 pm Sunday night and I'm trying to prepare for tomorrow by looking over some work while watching "10 Things I Hate About You." I really enjoy that movie, mainly because I love Julie Stile's young feminist character, Kat. I also love Heath Ledger as the bad boy that falls for Kat, and when Kat's little sister Bianca punches out this guy.

I was once a lot more like Kat than I am now. I miss that. I think it has a lot to do with being a lawyer, living in New York, and having a job that requires me to work, on occasion, until 3:30 in the morning. How is one supposed to be a balanced, whip-smart, cool, young feminist while so sleep deprived? I'm telling you, it's very difficult.

Turtle Rocking

2007-08-21T00:33:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend, I took my two honorary little sisters to the Bronx Zoo. We were mesmerized at the following not-for-children's-eyes display of attempted turtle-making mojo:

Look at the full-body positioning, the arms powerfully gripping the contours of Mrs. Turtle's shell, and the way Mr. Turtle is bracing himself by digging his feet into the sand. I couldn't help myself; I had to take a look at the action from the side view. Check out the body-rocking action:

Unfortunately, Mrs. Turtle did not seem to be enjoying all the attention being given to her caboose:

On closer examination, neither did Mr. Turtle. His ferocious intensity along with his uncanny resemblance to E.T. was a little disturbing:

My advice for this couple is simple: Mr. Turtle needs to loosen up a bit and add some fun back into his love-making. I would suggest slowing down turtle-style and taking the time to rub Mrs. Turtle's shell the way she likes it before diving in for the rhythmic penetration routine. If he relaxed, took his time, and didn't rush in for the back-end action immediately, Mrs. Turtle would enjoy it a lot more, which in turn would make it a lot more fun for Mr. Turtle.

Come to think of it, I've encountered a number of men who could benefit from this advice.

Line Crossing

2007-08-21T00:21:00.000-04:00

I've been dealing with an emergency on one of my pro bono cases since Friday, and also trying to take care of all of my other work, so I haven't had much of a chance to write. After a very stressful weekend, I feel more hopeful today about my case.

Pro bono cases are challenging for many reasons, not the least of which is that lines often end up getting crossed. Your work as a lawyer melds into that of a counselor, a big sister, and a friend, and back again. People tell you not to cross those lines. They tell you that getting emotional could negatively affect your clients by influencing your ability to be objective. Other people tell you that your line crossing has saved the lives of your clients, and encourage your passion and commitment. Everyone has an opinion about how you should act and what you're doing wrong. Some have praise for what you're doing right.

So, what do you do? You keep focused on the best interests of your clients and you try to do what's right. When they come into the office for meetings, you feed them. When they call feeling hopeless, you listen and try to remind them that they are not alone. When they need support, you provide it to them.

You do it because it's the best thing for your case, because even the most successful legal action is worthless without a client around to benefit from its success. You do it because you care, and because not doing anything when you see someone in so much need is impossible. You also do it because if you didn't, no one else would.

At least that's why I do it. The Evil Empire doesn't scare me. I just wish it didn't make things so challenging for me and my clients sometimes.

Off The Sauce

2007-08-17T15:49:00.000-04:00

I think we all learned a valuable lesson yesterday about the pitfalls of going to therapy slightly sauced on Pinot Noir. I know I did. Never again, my friends. I'm just thankful I didn't get mugged on the way home over my bottle of organic vodka. Now, that would have been a pity.

Clear-headed and bright-eyed today (particularly since I rediscovered an eye gel that appears to actually minimize fine lines - better than St. John's Wart at boosting one's mood), as Willow instructed, I'm gearing up for the weekend. On this weekend's agenda is a comedy club, a party, the Bronx Zoo, bouldering, running, and perhaps some Swedish-conversation time. Should be fun.

No dates, only a bunch of plans with friends. For this weekend, that suits me perfectly. I'm due for a rebalancing Boy-Break.