Boxes Galore

Only half a day more until I move! All of the materials contents of my world are currently either packed tightly away or strewn across the surfaces of my old apartment. Needless to say, the apartment is a disaster area and I have a lot left to do before I go to sleep tonight.

I'm crossing my fingers about a few things for tomorrow. Most importantly, I'm praying to all of the gods and goddesses that the arctic freeze that settled over Manhattan last night dissipates by tomorrow morning. I'm chilled just imagining the horror of moving in this weather.

Thankfully, I have a whole posse of huge, strong boys who are going to be at my service tomorrow. Seriously, all five of them are at least 6'2" and have really big muscles, including my brother Frey who is coming in from Connecticut to help me. Now, that's sibling love. I owe them all big time. Thank god for Moving Karma.

Thursday Thirteen #19

Thirteen Things I'm Looking Forward To About My New Apartment

1) Being surrounded by pale purple walls in my bedroom.
2) Private bathroom with tons of storage.

3) Everything about my balcony/roof deck.

4) Exploring a new neighborhood.

5) Decorating it exactly how I want it.

6) My skylight.

7) Being close to Central Park.

8) Running along the East River.

9) Hanging out at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

10) Floor space to do pilates and yoga.

11) Closet space.

12) Sharing glasses of wine with my new apartment mate.

13) Meeting new people.




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!

Extraordinary Girls

I think I just got a taste of what it feels like to have kids, and it was heartwrenching. It's one thing to deal with your own heartache. It's quite another thing to deal with the effects of that heartache on a child, or in my case, on two teenagers. How do you parents out there do it?

I've spoken before a little bit about the two extraordinary young women that I've become close with while working on their asylum case over the last 9 months. For purposes of this blog, I'll refer to them as Leila and Zahra, which of course are aliases, as are all of the names I use on my blog. Several months ago, the girls made the decision to leave their family in order to protect themselves from further abuse and probable death in their home country. Since that time, they have been living in a confidential domestic violence shelter, cut off from everyone except for me, my co-counsel, and a team of counselors and social workers trying to help them transition from a life of hopelessness, isolation, and abuse into one of empowerment, independence, and self-sufficiency. These girls are two of the strongest, most amazing people I have ever met, and it has been incredible to watch them grow over the last several months.

I see them about once a week, and always try to do something special with them. We go out into the city, spend time in the park, see a movie, go out to dinner, or just laze around my apartment chatting and watching movies. I love spending time with them. Two weekends ago, I took them for haircuts - their first professional haircuts ever! It was so much fun, and thank goodness they were both happy with their cuts. Having survived many a traumatic haircut, I had told them they could do whatever they wanted (short of a perm), as long as there were no tears. Of course I had nothing to worry about. They came armed with pictures and single-minded determination. It was so cool.

The day we went for haircuts was about a week and a half after Raj and I had broken up. I was very sad at the time, but hid it away because I didn't want to bring any additional stress or sadness to the girls. They've been through far too much already. During the last several months, while spending time with me, they had also spent time with Raj and gotten to know him a little. I was worried that they may have grown attached, or that they might be affected in some other negative way from having someone close to them (me) go through what I knew they would see as a traumatic situation. They know what it means to lose people.

I finally had to tell them tonight because, with all of the time I've had to spend on the moving process, I haven't been able to see them for about two weeks and they were starting to wonder. Though strong, they are also sensitive and fragile, and the last thing I wanted to do was to allow them to think I didn't want to spend time with them this week. So, I had to come clean. I told them that Raj and I had broken up, and that I had been very busy dealing with looking for apartments and packing.

They were shocked and both of them started to cry. They told me that they had thought Raj and I were going to get married, that we seemed so close. They remarked that Raj had spent time with my family, that I had spent time with his, and that I knew "everything" about Indian culture (*smile*). They wanted to know what had happened, why we weren't together, and what problems we had had. Delilah asked, "Is it because of us?," which was horribly gut-wrenching and made me feel terribly guilty. She (erroneously) thought Raj might have been upset at the amount of time I had spent with them, and I did my best to reassure her that my break-up had absolutely nothing to do with her and her sister. Both of them wanted to know if I was okay.

It took about an hour, but I finally convinced them that I was totally fine, that I was excited about the future, that the loss of Raj and our relationship was sad but that I believed that it was for the best. It was an Oscar-winning performance, that though genuine, hid the sadness that I of course still feel. Even when Delilah said through her tears, "But you're going to be alone at night. You're going to remember and you're going to be sad," I did not waver. I admitted that parts of it were going to be hard and sad, but I convinced her that I was absolutely 100% certain that I was going to be happy being on my own, focusing on myself for a while, having tons of girl-time, and surrounding myself with positive people and things. By the end of our conversation, I had them laughing about the silliness of boys and picturing the three of us having tea on my new balcony. I was laughing too.

I feel terrible that I allowed a situation to develop in which they experienced hurt. I allowed them to spend time with Raj, to see us together as a couple, to get used to me being with him. I imagine this is a bit of what a single parent would feel like after allowing her children to get close to her boyfriend, and then having to tell them that they were never going to see the boyfriend again because the relationship had ended. Children need to be treated with care, and I wonder if I treated them with enough care in allowing them so far into my life that they could be affected by the end of my relationship?

Hopefully, they'll take more positives than negatives away from this. I want them to know that they do not need a relationship to be happy, and that they can be completely fulfilled and happy on their own. This is incredibly important for them to believe, because they do not have anyone except for each other. It's also incredibly important for all girls to believe (fine, boys too, but boys generally have no problem internalizing this lesson). Happiness starts from within. That's what I've always believed, even in the times when it's been hard to find.

I know, that despite my recent heartache, ultimately I'm going to be completely fine. That's what I'm going to try to show them; that you can go through loss, allow yourself to experience the sadness of that loss, and then come out the other side even stronger and more extraordinary than you were before.

Flawless Eye Shadow

I'm starting a new feature on B&B on my favorite beauty must-haves and secrets. I don't have a name for it yet, but the plan is for it to be fabulous. It's in the spirit of Fab-Sugar's Fab Finds, which I adore and find quite edifying (and which you should all check out), but it's focused only on me and my discoveries. After years of diligent research, I've made a number of noteworthy discoveries and I want to share them with all of you! This will help me keep track of my beauty finds as well, so it's a win-win situation. Please share yours, too! That way we can all help each other be the spectacular, gorgeous creatures that we are. Boys, eat your hearts out. (I'm serious, eat them. Ha, ha).

First up is a must-have for perfect holiday party eyes, M.A.C.'s Paints Peintures, a "high tech, high performance eye shadow product which goes on creamy [and] dries to a powdery finish."

Here's why I love it: This eye shadow does not crease. You all know what I'm talking about. With most eye shadows, they look gorgeous for a couple of hours, but after a while the color inevitably cakes in the creases of your eyelid. But, not this eye shadow. Throw anything at it - office stress, rounds of Jack & Gingers, 8 straight hours of apartment hunting in Manhattan - and this eye shadow stays perfectly put, as if you had just applied it. It's amazing.

Here's the best part, I use the shade "Untitled" as a primer, and then use my other eye shadows on top of it, depending on my mood. Again, beautiful, crease-less eyes for the entire day. "Untitled" works well with my fair skin, but the product comes in a variety of other nuetral shades that I believe would work well with darker or lighter skin. Prior to purchasing this product, I had never used primer, and considered it an excessive waste of time to put on two coats of anything on top of my eyelids. But, I've been converted.

Sparkly, crease-less holiday eyes, here I come.

Update: I apply this with a brush. It sounds like a pain but it's quick and easy, and it comes on very smooth. This one works great.

The Tower

You are The Tower

Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

I took this test twice. The first time I chose more aspirational choices and I was "The Empress." The Empress was awesome, but a little too nurturing and creative for my current state of being, so I took the test again, this time trying to be completely honest with my answers as of this moment in time. I was thinking about what that fortune teller told me, that Tarot Cards are only a reflection of a person's state of being in the moment the cards are shuffled and dealt.

The second time around, I found out that I am "The Tower." Frightening, not completely accurate, a little over the top and dramatic, but ultimately fitting. The part I'm focusing on, ever so optimistically is: "What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built."

Four more days until I move. As you can imagine, I have a host of conflicting feelings about moving. With all of my heart, I wish I did not have to say goodbye. But, I have to.

What Tarot Card reflects your inner state of being right now?

Bag Smitten

I just recently rewatched the SATC episode where Carrie realizes that she's spent over $40,000 on shoes! She had bought about 100 pairs of fancy shoes like Manola Blahniks, and spent several hundred dollars on each of them. In Carrie's case, $40,000 also approximated roughly all the money she had earned, and she was thus faced with a closet full of shoes and no home in which to put them. (Aiden was forcing her to vacate or buy her apartment after they broke up. Nasty Aiden).

I confess I don't understand the shoe obsession, and I can not imagine a day when I would spend more than $150 on a pair of shoes, and that's my absolute uppermost limit, including what I would spend on knee-high length boots. I'm just not a shoe whore. I have better things to spend my money on, like traveling and investing.

Until recently, I was not a bag whore either, but unfortunately I think I've been bitten by the bug. So far, it hasn't caused any damage, but it has created great temptation where before there was none. For the longest time, I've had a few bags that I use all the time and most of them are black - it's classy, practical, and matches with pretty much everything I own. Most of them are Coach; none of which have the logo plastered tackily all over them. The most I've paid for a bag is $250, which to my credit is on the lower range of the designer bag market. I know, hold back the applause for my huge accomplishment.

But, for the last few months, I've found myself popping in to bag stores with greater and greater frequency. After being satisfied with black for years, suddenly I'm craving bags in dark blue, eggplant purple, or sea-green. I'm a vegetarian and an animal lover, for god's sake. I limit my milk intake so as to avoid supporting the veal industry, yet my eyes light up at the sight of smooth colored leather. It's terrible. Where does this desire come from? I swear I didn't even have the bag gene before moving to New York, but clearly a mutation has occurred.

Not that I would do anything crazy. A friend of mine recently bought an awesome bag, and I recognized it's utter awesomeness. It had a thick, round braided handle, tons of pockets, a beautiful enormous interior, and was made of soft smooth black leather (not gold, the gold is hideous!). I found myself coveting it and eyeing my much smaller sized black hobo with a flicker of disappointment. That was before I found out how much she had paid: $2,000. Yes, $2,000. On a bag! Not a car. The price tag made my covetous feelings vanish instantly. Thank god.

This morning, another bag caught my eye and I complimented it's owner. It was a gorgeous pale, but deep, purple color and looked a lot like the bag pictured at the top of this post. She told me that it was a Balenciaga (Ally Bean, everyone does that), and I filed the name away to look up later. Imagine my disappointment when I realized the bag costs $800.

Hmmph. At least I have good taste.

Dismantlement Begins

I'd like to say that today I was strong and empowered, and for the most part I was. I wore my sassy "Boys Lie" shirt, armed myself with coffee, and, with the help of a friend, an Ani Difranco mix, and a "Sex and the City" HBO marathon, started the dismantlement process.

Of course one of the episodes had to be the be the one where Aiden moves out of of Carrie's place. It didn't bother me that much; I never liked Aiden. I always thought he was kind of sappy. I did note, however, that Carrie and Aiden participated in the dismantlement process together, and somehow that seemed right. It's odd to dismantle a relationship all by yourself. It makes everything seem a bit unreal.

I made a lot of progress. Boxes were packed, forks were sorted. The apartment now looks less like the place I shared with Raj, and more like the epicenter of a cardboard box explosion.

At one point, unfortunately, my resolve was momentarily shattered when Raj stopped by to get something from the apartment. Upon seeing him, my heart, which had been pleasantly numb for a while, started beating frantically and hurting again. Of course, I also dissolved into a mass of tears; understandable, I think, as it was the first time we had seen one another since we had broken up. He looked terribly handsome and sad, which only intensified my sadness. I don't want him to hurt.

After he left, I went back to my friend who somehow managed to make me laugh through my tears and helped me continue the packing process. My friends, both the ones I knew I had and the ones I didn't know about, have been awesome throughout this situation. I'm grateful for all of their support. That goes for all of you, too. Thanks for all of your comments and for being so supportive and kind. It's nice to feel a part of a sisterhood (boys, that includes you too).

Making Sad Mixes

Today was not hard until I came back to the apartment (the old apartment, not the new one). I was very productive at first. I did pilates, did the rounds of grocery and liquor stores charming clerks and collecting boxes, and then met a friend for brunch, before coming back to what used to be home.

I wish I didn't have to be here. I wish I could be setting up my new place and starting a new chapter of my life, one that does not involve being in love with him. But, before I can do that I need to say goodbye to this one. I alternate between feeling like it's unfair and strangely cold that he is not here to wade through the remnants of our relationship together, to feeling like it's for the best because seeing him would be too painful. It would muddy up the clean break that he so effectively and deliberately created. Despite my protests. Despite my desire to talk. He said there was nothing else to talk about, and I guess he was right. Males can be so callous.

Being here alone, it's impossible to escape the feelings of sadness and loss while confronted with the emptiness and all of the memories that used to fill up this space. The couch I used to lie on next to him, our pictures and books, his baseball caps, the empty bedroom, the fridge that gets emptier day by day. It's like a tomb.

Tonight, I drank two of his beers, Harpoon I.P.A.s. Surprisingly, they were good. I would have had more but there were only two. I was supposed to be packing and cleaning, but I couldn't do it. It's too sad. Instead, I made mixes I'd been meaning to make, and let myself be carried away by the sadness. I knitted a little in between waiting for songs to download. I know this hurt will pass, but tonight, in this moment, I miss him and I'm so sad he didn't want to make this work.

Some of the songs I listened to reminded me of a long time ago when we used to go out in Michigan. I used to love dancing with him. I regret that we didn't go out dancing in New York this past year. What a waste. Remembering how much fun we used to have, I got pissed at him for throwing this all away. It seems like it would have been so simple to make it work. But, obviously, for him it wasn't.

This would all be so much easier to deal with if there hadn't been - in between all of the the disappointments and hurt - all of the moments when I felt completely content and happy to be with him. I'm having one of those moments when I'm remembering the softness and scent of his skin. It's a bad moment. I don't want to think about those things. They make me want to hold him and then they make me cry. Ah, love.

This is the song that we listened to while driving around Canada on vacation a month and a half ago. At the time I didn't know the words, and I didn't realize how prophetic it was. It's a terribly sad song.

Karma police

Arrest this man

He talks in maths

He buzzes like a fridge

He's like a detuned radio.

Karma police

Arrest this girl

Her hitler hairdo

Is making me feel ill

And we have crashed her party.

This is what you'll get

This is what you'll get

This is what you'll get

When you mess with us.

Karma police

I've given all I can

Its not enough

I've given all I can

But we're still on the payroll.

This is what you'll get

This is what you'll get

This is what you'll get

When you mess with us.

For a minute there,

I lost myself, I lost myself.

Phew, for a minute there,

I lost myself, I lost myself.

For a minute there,

I lost myself, I lost myself.

Phew, for a minute there,

I lost myself, I lost myself.

-Radiohead

What are the songs that make you sad and why?

I Found An Apartment!!

I'm sitting at my desk stunned and, dare I admit, feeling a bit excited after just speaking with the girl from whom I decided last night to sublet her place. Yes, I found an apartment!! Before I get to the details, let me give you a small recap of the hell that was yesterday.

Yesterday, I was at a very, very low point. I was demoralized, discouraged, depressed, sad, mad, and fairly despondent as I slogged through the streets of Manhattan looking at places. I'm not ashamed to admit that I dissolved into tears more than once, and had frequent phone conversations with my friends and sister where, through my sobs, I told them that everything was ruined. I had nothing and my life was destroyed, and it was all Raj's fault (although deep down in my more mature moments, I know it's not - I'll get past this eventually, but not right now). I was feeling very sorry for myself. As I said, I was at a very low point. Apartment hunting in Manhattan will do that to you even without dealing with the emotional rollercoaster of ending a relationship.

In the course of the day, I saw three apartments in Chelsea and Hell's Kitchen, most of which were within a 10 block radius from the apartment in which I used to live with Raj. The apartments were either oddly shaped, dark, or way too expensive (one of them had a broker's fee of $3,000 on it), and all of them left me feeling like they were too close to my former life with Raj. I couldn't imagine waking up each morning have to walk within blocks of his place on my way to work, passing all of the places we used to go together, and wondering what he was doing. It would have been far too depressing, and not a healthy way of trying to deal with getting over him.

At 5:30 pm I took a break from my apartment stress and went to the knitting shop where I had taken the knitting class, Gotta Knit, for a wine and knitting hour. Everything Thursday evening, the store has wine and snacks and customers bringing their knitting and sit around the table and chat with one another while working on their projects. I only stayed for 45 minutes because I had to run to see some other apartments, but it was a pleasant break and I enjoyed meeting the other women, two of whom gave me apartment leads. How sweet is that!

From knitting, I raced up the Upper East Side (UES) to look at another apartment, the apartment that I ultimately decided to get! The apartment is a shared apartment - meaning that it was a 2 BR and one of the girls was moving out, so if I moved in I would be sharing the place with her roommate - and it was actually the only shared apartment that I looked at. As I've mentioned, I really treasure my privacy and my own space, and after living for so many years in a single, the idea of sharing my space with someone I wasn't sleeping with seemed very risky.

But, immediately upon entering the apartment, I got a positive feeling from the space. Both of the girls - the one moving away and the one staying - seem like cool people. The apartment is a two-level space, so upon walking into the front door you see an open space with a kitchen to the right and a living area to the left. My roommate's bedroom and bathroom are farther off to the right. To get to my bedroom, you have to walk up a black spiral staircase that takes you to the second level of the apartment that has a large bedroom, private bathroom, and -here's one of the best parts - two french doors that open up onto a balcony/roof deck! It's actually pretty freaking amazing. I could grow vegetables and herbs out there. The other best part is that the room is painted a beautiful shade of pale lilac, which as you all probably know is my favorite color. Immediately after walking up into that room and being surrounded by the pale purple walls, I could see myself in that space. I could see myself healing, relaxing, and getting through this very difficult time.

So, I made the decision, after about an hour of looking and chatting, to do it. I put in a deposit, and I'm going to be moving in the weekend of December 9th. Holy Crap!! I can't believe it. I had to call the girl this morning before I posted this blog or told any of my friends that I had found a place, just to confirm for myself that it was real and that this hellish part of this transitional time was coming to a close. I can't tell you the relief I'm feeling at the moment not to have to look for more apartments. It's also such a surprise to feel a flicker of excitement about the place I'll be going to next. My heart is still filled with sadness about Raj, and probably will be for a long time, but at least now there's a tiny piece of hope amidst the sadness.

* * *

And you know what, thinking about this more, I'm realizing that I f---ing kick ass. On Monday and Tuesday, I was in a state of despair, but then, with the support of CG, my family and friends, I rallied. Wednesday and Thursday were utterly miserable, but ultimately, through a ton of work, I found a place. In three days!! I took care of myself! All by myself!! I am fucking awesome, and you know what, I'm proud of myself.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things I Was Thinking As I Hunted For Apartments in Manhattan Today

1) This is not fair.

2) It's immature of me to think this isn't fair, and it's probably unhelpful.

3) I should be working right now, but I don't even know if I could work because I'm so upset.

4) I'm so angry with Raj for doing this to me.

5) I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself, but I am feeling sorry for myself.

6) I wish I could lie down and cry somewhere.

7) I hate brokers. They are all slimy bastards.

8) I hate the fact that brokers charge 15%, which comes out to be approximately $3000 for an apartment with a monthly rent of $1800.

9) That's a cute coffee shop.

10) I hate that I have to be looking for a new apartment right now.

11) He shouldn't have had me move in to his place and move all of my stuff into his place if he was going to quit on me.

12) Our apartment was finally looking cute. It's not fair that I have to leave it, and it's not fair that I have to do all of this work myself because of his decision to stop trying.

13) I'm never moving in with another male.



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!

Kicking And Screaming

I would like to say, for the record, that I am having a bad freakin' morning. Really, I'm having a bad f---ing morning, but I've been thinking that I probably shouldn't swear on my blog as a general matter because it sounds ugly, so I'm trying to restrain myself. However, if I was talking to you in person, I would definitely be saying that I am having a bad f---ing morning. By way of background, I always thought swearing for emphasis was fine until I started working with Dragon Lady and had to stand by as she cursed violently under her breath. I realized that when someone is sputtering out curses left and right that it can make others feel really uncomfortable, and it can stress people out. It's also tacky and completely lacking in class. So, I'm trying not to replicate Dragon Lady's annoying (abusive) habits in my own life. Bitch.

So, back to my morning. I'm discouraged. I've been looking for apartments around the clock for two days. I'm now intimately familiar with Craig's List and a host of posters, and yet, a solution to my apartment dilemma has not yet materialized. Nothing seems right. They're are problems with all of the possibilities, and maybe that's something I'm going to have to accept: I'm not going to find anything close to ideal because of this shitty situation that has been foisted upon me. Speaking of foisting upon me, don't think I'm only blaming Raj. Far from it. On my way to work this morning I was berating myself for deciding to move in with him and giving up my lovely, gorgeous, beautifully decorated apartment.

But you know, even now when everything has fallen apart, I wouldn't have done it differently. I loved him and I wanted to be with him. And, though I'm surprised to be having this thought at the moment, I don't regret living with him. I don't regret trying to share my life with his. Ok, enough of that mushy stuff that is going to send me back into a pit of weeping despair.

When I moved in with him we were in the midst of working through our "issues," but that didn't give me any pause because I was convinced that we would work out our issues and, basically, live happily ever after. Was I sniffing anything at the time? No. Do I consider myself to be a flighty, naive person? No. I just knew that I loved him, and I believed he loved me, and it seemed that we had come back together for a reason: to be together for the long haul. I never would have got back together with him after being apart for a year if I hadn't been sure that this time it was going to be forever. In that mindset, moving in together seemed like a natural step. Especially in New York when paying two rents and spending most nights together doesn't make a lot of financial sense. I totally admit that; we both took into account the financial benefits of combining our living space.

What I didn't bargain on was that the relationship would not work out. What I also failed to consider was how the ending of the relationship might impact me when suddenly I found myself without a home to call my own. I didn't think about how I would feel trying to come to terms with a break-up and trying to grieve while at the same time trying to find a new place to live. The reality is, you can not grieve while trying to find an apartment in New York. There's just not enough time! The last two evenings I've spent hours on Craig's List, pouring over ads and leaving messages, and I've done that because, frankly, I don't have any choice. Ok, I guess I do have a choice. I could choose to stay in a really shitty situation and do nothing to take care of myself, or I could choose to try to find a new place to live. I've chosen, wisely, to pursue the latter course, but the latter course (especially in New York) sucks.

I don't want to be looking for an apartment right now. It takes up almost all of my energy, and what I want to be doing right now is crying, getting perspective, grieving, drowning my sorrows with friends, and doing pretty much anything other than slogging through the streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn trying to find the next place to which I'm going to have to move my stuff. I don't want to think about what to do with my bed, or how much stuff I can get rid off. I don't want to go through my clothes and sort the ones I can give away to goodwill. I don't want to be in this mindset like I'm on a sinking ship and in order to survive I've got to cut off all the dead weight. I'm not ready to cut off all the dead weight in a mad rush. I want time to sort through my things and get things in order. But, unfortunately, I don't have time.

I also need to work, which is incredibly difficult while being super stressed out about finding an apartment immediately. I think it's complete and utter bullshit that I (and only I) have to be in this frenzy to extricate myself from what used to be "our" life, immediately. He made this decision not me, and because of his decision my entire life has been turned upside down. Yes, I'm feeling sorry for myself. And, yes, I do not think this is fair. I did not know that we would be breaking up. But I guess you never do.

I'm pissed today. Mostly I'm pissed because, as a result of Raj's decision, I do not even have time to be pissed. I need to work, I need to find an apartment, and neither of those leave much time to revel in one's emotions. Now, after this blogging diversion, I have to go back to my f---ing work, so that I can finish it as quickly as possible so that I can continue my f---ing apartment search. I'm pissed, sad, and angry and I think all of this is unfair.

Apartment Hunting: The Upper UWS

For those of you unfamiliar with Manhattan, the place where the red arrow is pointing (125th Street), is far, far away from where I currently live. I'm down in Chelsea, which is on the west side of Manhattan about midway down the island. 125th street is almost 100 blocks north of where I live, or approximately 5 miles. In most places in the United States 5 miles would be nothing. In Manhattan, it's the difference between being happy and feeling like you're stuck in Siberia. It's even North of Central Park!

Not that I'm being negative at the moment. On the contrary, I'm extremely impressed with myself. I had never been that far North. I took off the afternoon from work (fuck 'em) and explored the border of Harlem! I have one friend up there who swears it's the greatest because it's away from the buzz of the city, you get more space for the money, and it's just "cool" in the way that neighborhoods in the process of gentrification are that haven't yet become hip.

However, I happen to like the buzz of the city, and as I was exploring the area between 100th to 125th street, my overriding impression was one of depression and isolation. It just felt so damn far away from everywhere I want to be (i.e. The Village, Chelsea, Soho, East Village, Union Square, UWS, etc.; basically anywhere on the West side up until 96th street, and many places on the East side).

Despite not being enthused by the upper, upper West side, I'm still really proud of myself for getting my butt in gear and checking it out. I saw two places, neither of which was anything special and way to small for the money and the location. CG told me yesterday during our session that I could feel miserable and sad, but that I had to "empower" myself while at the same time allowing myself to work through those feelings. Basically, she was saying that I needed to take some control of the situation, and even if I continued to feel sorry for myself (which I was totally doing two days ago) I still needed to take some action and act like the competent, bright, confident woman that I am. She suggested "educating" myself about the available rental options as a way of empowering myself and damn it, she was right. I do feel empowered because even though this situation totally sucks, I'm taking action to try to get myself out of a bad situation and into a better one. Go me.

In educating myself today by tramping all over the upper, upper West side, I learned that 100th street is my upper most limit. I also realized that I need to consider my mental health and the impact the darkening days will have on it. As the sunlight faded on 125th street, the area began to look even bleaker than it had earlier, and I thought to myself that though I could bear not snuggling with who I thought I was going to snuggle with this winter, I don't think I could bear it if I was trapped all the way up in Siberia. The isolation would wreck me. I'm just not ready for that. I'm a Manhattan girl, what can I say. And if I'm going to live in Manhattan, I want to live in Manhattan, not Harlem (even if it is the new cool place to be with slightly cheaper rent). I prefer veggie stands over fried chicken and a steady stream of cabs over vacant streets.

In addition to looking on Craig's List, I've contacted almost everyone I know in the city and enlisted their assistance. Shockingly, for a girl who has been convinced that she doesn't have close friends here, there are a large number of people on my list and almost every single one of them has come through. In trying times, you always find out who your true friends are. Lucky me, I have a good number of them.

Tomorrow, the search continues.

Therapeutic Processing

Therapists are great because they help you process. Last night, I saw CG and, as usual, she was awesome. Together, we waded through the muck (I actually had her skim that blog post at the start of our session so that she could get a snapshot of my mental state). I realized that - putting aside the relationship heartache - one of the main reasons I'm stressed and anxious about the idea of temporary housing is that I want a safe, stable place where I feel comfortable, and temporary housing does not represent that in my mind. Temporary housing is filled with random crazies, my stuff scattered between my brother's house and storage, and me sitting alone on a bed staring at the walls. Who wouldn't be freaking out about that image?

The idea that I might want a stable home, as opposed to flitting around the world trying to find a sense of purpose, should not have been an earthshattering revelation to me, but with my emotions in overdrive, it came as something of a surprise. Having my space has always been important to me. In addition, for the last couple of months I've been incredibly stressed out because of my feeling that I do not have an "anchor" or a "rock." Well, of course the anchor and the rock has to be MOI, and what I realized last night is that I probably can not be a good anchor to myself if immediately after ending a serious relationship, I proceed to summarily uproot everything else in my life at the exact same time. Not a good plan.

I don't need more uprooting right now. Losing a relationship, a job (even a despised one), and a city that I love all at the same time would be too much. It just doesn't make sense. I need to take care of myself, and I'm thinking today that taking care of myself might mean giving myself a stable place to live. So, like my wise friend Fran said yesterday, the first order of business is getting out of the apartment. That's what I'm going to focus on for now, and I'm going to push all the concerns about the job to the side. It would be good for me to find a place to live where I feel comfortable. That would be taking care of myself, which is what CG always focuses on. She always asks, "What do you need to do to take care of yourself?"

Breaking up was not part of my plan. But, it's happened, and so now I have to change the plan in order to take care of myself. I can kick, scream and cry while I do it, but I have to get it done.

Overwhelmed and Despondent At The Thought Of Moving (Out) (Again) (On)

My first day back at work in 8 days was not as awful as I had expected it to be. It was actually mildly comforting to have the familiarity of my office - and particularly my computer - back. Dragon Lady refrained from harassing me, and the major thing I had to deal with workwise were some issues with my pro bono contested divorce case, most of which I was able to take care of or put off until tomorrow.

Which was good, because I spent a good part of today alternating between crying over the loss of what I thought was going to be "the" relationship and wondering what the hell I'm going to do in terms of living space for the immediate future. I cried over lunch and a glass of wine with a friend, and then I cried later while talking to another friend on the phone. I need to move out because "our" place is Raj's. I moved in to his place back in April, and now that we have broken up, I need to move out.

I find this completely and utterly overwhelming. First, because until two weeks ago, when Raj told me that he no longer wanted to "try" to make our relationship work, I had had a semblance of a future plan (which, admittedly, I was already freaking out about). My plan had been to quit this deplorable job in January sans other job, take a small break to travel, and then come back home and play house with Raj while looking for a job that I really wanted to do. A job that I was passionate about. Since August, I've had it in my mind that come January, I would be quitting this place come hell or high water. It's become imprinted in my brain. I've had a countdown on my blog. I was down to 38 days!! (As of today). The idea of not leaving when I said I was going to leave fills me with dread and disappointment. I know I would be so proud of myself for leaving and telling them, in my own special way, to f--- off.

Now, obviously (as I'm coming to realize slowly and painfully) this plan needs to be tweaked, and most likely completely overhauled. The more people I speak with, the more times I'm told that you should look for a job while you have a job, and that it will be far more difficult to find a job if I'm without one while I'm looking. Apparently, this is because everyone assumes you are a loser or psycho who was fired from your old job. It's like a third eye in the middle of your forehead. Nobody wants to hire a Cyclops. Initially, I was highly resistant to this information. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to cave in and not quit out of cowardice. That was before I suddenly did not have a place to live and before Raj broke my heart. Before everything crumbled all at once.

Depressing as it is, the reality is that the most stable thing in my life right now is my job. Oh my god, that's so depressing. And I wonder why I've been wanting to run way to Tibet? The very same job that I was hell bent on quitting not two weeks ago. The very same job that I still passionately want to to quit.

And, I am still going to quit. But, instead of quitting without having a job lined up, I'm now considering alternatives, such as going to another law firm for a 6 month stint if I'm unable to find a public interest job in the next two months (while dealing with heartbreak and finding a new place to live). Then, at least I'll have health insurance, money, security, and stability which will allow me to stay in New York while I think about what and where I want my next step to be. It's a safer route, and it might be what I need to do in order to get through this break-up - pathetic and sad as that seems. This might actually be the low to which I have fallen. This idea (of going to another law firm as a temporary measure) sounded good to me for exactly 25 minutes this morning, and then popped up throughout the day, without making me ill. Writing about it now, however, fills me with a sick feeling in my chest. The idea of going to another law firm is so unbelievably depressing.

How this relates to looking for a place to live is that I've had this timeline, of quitting in January, embedded in my head since August, so January has always represented the endpoint to my self-imposed timeline. Now, when I'm visualizing looking for a place to stay, I keep finding myself clinging to that deadline, and thinking in temporary terms, looking for a place to sublet only through January. It's like I can't think past January! I also don't think I'm in the best frame of mind to go out and rent a place and sign a one-year lease. Basically, chaos has erupted in my head. My relationship, challenged as it was, was stability to me because it was something I was committed to. Now, it's gone, and it has created a massive void on many levels.

The second reason I find looking for a place to live utterly overwhelming is because this is f---ing New York and it's really hard to find an apartment here. Not to mention the fact that it's New York during the Holidays. Almost every listing on Craig's List is for a "holiday rental," from mid-December until mid-January. That does not help me very much, because I need a temporary place at least through the end of January.

Third, I want to sublet a studio or one-bedroom, some place that does not involve sharing an apartment with other people, something I have not done for over 6 years (with the exception of my time with Raj). The thought of living with randoms makes me ill. The thought of living with and meeting randoms while I'm emotionally vulnerable and falling to pieces is pretty much the worst thing I could imagine. Unfortunately, I haven't had much luck finding a studio to sublet. Frustrated, I responded to some apartment to share ads and later left a message on one girl's cell phone who had written me back. She sounded like a drill sergeant on her voice mail. I can't live with a drill sergeant!

Fourth, in addition to the logistical issues, I'm trying to deal with a swirl of emotions. Sometimes I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, other times I feel panicky and like I can't breathe, like I can't believe that this relationship is over. That it didn't work. That we are not going to be together. I was so convinced that it was going to work once we had worked through our problems, because I love him and I wanted it to work. But now it's over, and I don't know what the point of any of it was. What was the point of all that struggle if it didn't result in us being together? What a waste! So, I'm grappling with the end of something I wanted with all of my heart. I'm feeling loss, rejection, tiny sparks of anger, disbelief, disappointment, and crushing pain. I miss him. I can not believe we aren't going to have a future together.

Sometimes I feel calm and clear, like I have some perspective on why the relationship was not working for me. But, most of the time I just feel sad and filled with disbelief that it's over. How am I supposed to find a sublet while dealing with all of this? A sublet. A hideous shoebox filled with someone else's junk.

I don't think I can do it. I also don't want to do it. I wanted us to work out. That's why I moved in. That's why I put up my pictures alongside his. That's why I moved the last of my things out of storage a few weeks ago; because I was committed to making our relationship work and I truly believed that we had a future together.

But now, he has thrown that away. He has thrown me away. And, I need to find a sublet and the job that I hate with every cell in my body has become the most stable part of my life. That's the reality. This is unbelievably horrendous.

Coffee With Starshine

While I was down in Houston for Thanksgiving break, I did something that I had never done before. Drum roll, please. I met one of my blogging friends, Starshine. As this was my first time meeting a fellow blogger, someone I had "gotten to know" through my blog and their's, I was a little bit nervous prior to our coffee date. The fact that my mother had to drop me off at Starbuck's like I was back in grade school did not help. (Thanks for dropping me off Mom).

It turns out that I had no reason to be nervous. Starshine was as wonderful, kind, and genuine in person as she is on her blog. That's her on the left with the gorgeous red hair, and me on the right. Yes, we are posing for our blogs. Shamelessly. Our conversation picked up easily from where our blogs and emails to one another had left off. There was no awkwardness or searching for things to say, and I guess I should have expected that because before "meeting one another" we already knew a lot about one another - and we liked what we knew.

We spent a delightful morning getting acquainted in the physical world, running back through our basic life stories, and filling in details that had been left out of our posts. It was so much fun! It was also exactly what I needed on that particular morning. I also got to meet her man, esuitor, who was incredibly charming and very sweet. The two of them are so cute together! I'm very happy that Starshine and I met for coffee, and I'm already looking forward to the next time our paths cross outside of the blogging world.

Stillness

I woke up this morning to the same thing I've woken up to for the last six days that I've been down here in Houston visiting my family. A stillness and a silence within me, and a sense of disbelief that Raj and I are no longer together. Within the stillness there's also a feeling of being completely alone.

Later in the day, I'll feel other emotions. I'll feel sadness, disappointment, hurt, and sometimes anger. Unfortunately, I haven't felt a lot of anger since Raj and I broke up 2 weeks ago. Hopefully, the anger will eventually come. My dominant emotions have been crushing sadness, disappointment, hurt, and a sense of disbelief. I've also felt panic and anxiety, but I know that has to do with a lot more than the break-up. Lucky me, in addition to my relationship ending, almost everything else in my life is also in a state to transition (and I was already in a panic about all of that before this particular rug was ripped out from under me).

I've never gone through a break-up where I loved the person and wanted to keep trying, but they decided to leave. Which is what happened. Raj decided that after our 3 year on-and-off relationship (one year one, one year off, this past year on), he did not want to try any longer, despite continuing to love me. Obviously, I do not want to be with someone who doesn't want to be with me, and I knew that the instant he said that he didn't want to try anymore. Putting aside questions as to whether this is for the best, because time will tell, I've never been on this side of a break-up. I've never felt like my heart is breaking because I love someone who I can no longer be with. Who no longer wants to be with me.

I'm sure I'm also feeling rejection and abandonment, but maybe they're too painful to deal with. Maybe that's why I wake up to the stillness. Does all of this sound pathetic? Maybe. Someone I'm not that close with recently told me, "Don't let them see you cry. Keep your chin up." I don't agree with that advice and I don't see the point of it. I know that I'm going to get past this and I'm going to come out stronger, but I'm going to have to go through a process. Crying is part of that process, and thanks to a year of therapy I no longer feel weak for feeling hurt or for crying. I'm glad that I have the capacity to feel emotions strongly. It means I have depth.

Unfortunately, depth brings pain, and that's what I feel pressing in on me on the edge of my stillness. Today, as I'm surrounded by my mom and brothers, I'm not going to give in to the pain. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. In a while, after they all wake up, we'll have breakfast, and probably see the Borat movie, which even if being horribly stupid will probably have at least a few solid laughs, which has to be good for me. Then, this afternoon I fly back to New York and the stillness of what used to be "our" apartment.

At least the apartment has half of me in it. After a week with my family, I need some me time. Even if the me time brings with it a lot of sorrow.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things About My Thanksgiving

1) I spent this Thanksgiving with my mom and two brothers, and overall really enjoyed my time with all of them.

2) I missed my sister, Bean, who spent the holiday with her husband in Utah. I think it was the first Thanksgiving that all four kids in my family weren't together. But, we all talked on the phone, so we stayed connected.

3) On Thanksgiving morning, my brothers and I went for a 3-mile run outside. I had to stop a bunch of times, but Bacchus cheered me on which was very cool. At the end, I was really happy that I had gone running with them, and I resolved to get back into running regularly once I get back to New York.

4) My mom's sweet potatoes were awesome, as usual. She mixes sweet potatoes and granny smith apples in an orange juice and grand marnier sauce and then tops them with marshmallows.

5) My two desserts were a hit, especially the apple crisp, which is all gone. We still have about 1/2 of the pumpkin pie left (so I guess that wasn't quite as big of a hit).

6) The four of us played 3 intense games of Taboo. (We're a little competitive.) We switched teams each time, but every time I was on the winning team. Coincidence? I think not.

7) At one point, my mother, who's word was "sausage," ended up saying that my brother Bacchus always says he has a huge one, and when that didn't work, saying that you could have it with syrup. My brother Frey yelled out, in exasperation, "cock and balls," and all of us were like, what the hell does that have to do with syrup? It was a little dirty, but hilarious.

8) At another point, my brother Frey had a word and got me to say "Borat," by saying that he has a new movie out now that we are all going to see. He then said that I needed to change some letters at the end, for which he was ultimately disqualified. He wanted me to say "Bor-ay." None of us could figure out what the word "bor-et" could be, until we looked at his card and realized the word was "bore" (without the gratuitous French accent). That lead to a lot of laughing as well.

9) I now have half of a scarf knitted and I'm fairly proud of myself, although I'm not sure how I feel about plain old knit-stitch as a pattern.

10) We all watched Al Gore's Inconvenient Truth. The situation is indeed dire. I always think about what a waste it is that all the buildings in New York keep so many of their lights on throughout the night.

11) Speaking of dire, I've been reading "Under the Banner of Heaven," about the fundamentalist Mormon church and their practice of polygamy. The idea of 14 year old girls being forced to marry men double their age and becoming their third or fourth wife is repulsive and extremely disturbing. The book, so far, is great.

12) I'm very thankful because I received very good news on my pro bono asylum case. I don't want to jinx it, but I'll share it later.

13) The weather has been gorgeous. Eventhough the Christmas tree in the square looks strange in 70 degree weather, after this week in the sunshine, sitting outside on my mom's porch swing, I'm starting to see the appeal of the winter holidays in summer weather.




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!

Laughter and Relaxation

One of the things I decided to do while I was down in Houston this week was to try to do something positive and fun for myself each day. Yesterday, that was going with my Mom and some of her friends to see the new Will Ferrell movie, Stranger Than Fiction, also staring Emma Thompson, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Dustin Hoffman, and Queen Latifah. I went in search of light entertainment and laughter.

As a general rule, I'm not a huge fan of Will Ferrell movies, as they tend to be a little bit too idiotic for my tastes. However, there are a few of his movies that I've loved, including Anchorman (Christina Applegate was fantastic!), Wedding Crashers (hated Will Ferrell's character in that movie but Owen Wilson, Vince Vaughn, Isla Fisher, and Rachel McAdams were all great), and Elf. The funniest part of Elf was when Will Ferrell gave his Dad a Christmas present which turned out to be women's Christmas-themed lingerie. Omg, it was so funny and it made me laugh so hard that no sound was coming out, the way my Dad laughs over British comedy.

Stranger Than Fiction is the story of a boring and bored IRS agent, Will Ferrell, who suddenly, on a random Wednesday, starts to hear a woman's voice narrating his life. The mysterious voice is the voice of Emma Thompson, a writer of tragedies suffering from writer's block and Will Ferrell is non other than the main character in Thompson's evolving book. As Thompson, with the help of Queen Latifah struggles with writer's block and tries to figure out out to kill off Ferrell's character, Ferrell becomes smitten by Gyllenhaal, a baker with anarchist tendencies and a dislike of the US Government's military expense budget.

I've always liked Gyllenhaal (check her out in Secretary and Mona Lisa Smile) and thought she did a great job in Stranger Than Fiction. She was wonderful, although I was hard pressed to believe that any sparks would have flown between Gyllenhaal and Ferrell's characters. Not to say that Ferrell didn't look decent in the movie, because, surprisingly, he did. Stripped of his usual deliberate stupidity and/or sleaze factor, he was actually fairly attractive and quite endearing. All in all, I enjoyed the movie and found it pretty entertaining. It made me laugh, so I got out of it what I wanted.

Today, I went for relaxation as opposed to laughter and had a hot stone massage and a manicure. I've been wanting to try out a hot stone massage for a while, and I was not disappointed. The hot stones against my skin felt like they were melting away stresses, and I left the spa after an hour feeling more limber and relaxed.

Other than that, I've been getting ready for Thanksgiving. I'm spending it with my mom and two brothers, and am looking forward to all of us being together. I'm baking an apple crisp and a pumpkin pie. I'm not big on cooking, but baking is fun. Speaking of which, the kitchen is calling.

Weighty

I woke up sad today, and though I've been trying to ignore it, the sadness has stayed with me. I've been thinking about the recent break-up, and of course him. Driving to my Dad's this morning - a small miracle that my mother allowed me to borrow her car despite her contention that Houston highways are basically the equivalent of death traps - I heard a song from Outkast that we used to dance to. Horrible. I think part of this taking care of me thing will have to include trying to disremember happy memories, including eliminating some of the music that invokes those memories. I'm off to have lunch with my Dad and Stepmom. Houston is chilly but sunny, and I'm glad I'm able to spend the day here, despite feeling weighed down by all of these emotions.

Incompatible Love?

I've been thinking a lot about love and relationships recently for obvious reasons. I'm a romantic at heart and I have always believed (and I know I'll sound cliche here) that love conquers all. No matter what, if there is true love, the love is supposed to triumph and the two people are supposed to live happily ever after. That is how it is supposed to work.

Take the Princess Bride, one of the greatest movies of all time, and the story of another Buttercup, this one a Princess. In that movie, Princess Buttercup had a true love, Westley (who I had a crush on when the movie first came out), who she was separated from by a number of massive obstacles including: An arrogant king who wanted to force Buttercup to wed him, Westley's need to assume a false identity as a dreaded pirate, a Giant, a swordsmen, ugly swamp-dwelling rat creatures, and a maniacal evil little man set on Westley's destruction. Those are some serious obstacles, but guess what happened? In the end the love between Princess Buttercup and Westley prevailed; their love was true, and so they made it through the challenges.

Admittedly, the Princess Bride is a fairy tale, but if the point of the tale is wrong, if love doesn't conquer all, what's the point of love? If you can love someone, and they can love you, and you can't have faith in that love to get you through, there is no point in love. If love does not conquer all, love is is only a cliff from which you leap off into the unknown, not knowing whether you'll crash down upon the rocks below. There's no security in a love that can not conquer all.

Now, I'm not talking about a situation where two people allegedly fall in love and then one or both of them fall out of love with the other one. This by the way, I would not define as love. I would say that in hindsight, what probably happened is that the two people *thought* they were in love, but actually were not, or at least that they did not fall truly and completely in love. Prior to my last relationship, I had had many boyfriends, and at the time that I was dating them, there were several that I thought that I loved. But with time, I've realized that what I felt for them was not really love. It was affection, infactuation, tenderness, caring, compassion, admiration, respect, and a host of other emotions that all rolled together approximated something very close to love. But the love that I thought I had for them didn't last, so I broke up with them, and ultimately I came to realize that I hadn't really loved them, at least not as much as I'm capable of loving now. (And perhaps that's because your capacity to love develops over time as you grow and mature, but that's a different topic).

Perhaps, if the other person did something horrible to you, and you truly loved them, then your love for them could fade and die. But in those circumstances, probably what had happened is that you fell in love with who you thought they were, instead of who they actually were. Upon realizing that the object of your love did not exist as you had imagined them, it makes sense that your love would fade and die, after you accepted that reality.

What started me thinking about all of this, some time ago, was when someone introduced to me the notion that a relationship might not work out, even though there is love between the two people, because of some type of incompatibility. The idea being that the two people, though loving one another, might just not be a "good fit." They might just have different lifestyles, different views, different desires as to how to spend their time, different priorities. And so, the notion was put to me, love does not conquer all, because sometimes two people who love one another might just be a bad fit.

At the moment, though I'm struggling with this and open to opposing viewpoints, I think this is a load of crap, and I do not care if my sole basis for believing this comes from fairytales. If you love someone, then you love them. You treat them with care, you think about what brings them happiness, you make them a priority, not because you have to, but because you want to. You are there for them because you want to be, because you care about them, and because without them your life would be less meaningful.

This notion of a relationship not working because of incompatibilities as opposed to a lack of love just doesn't ring true for me. It sounds like an excuse. It sounds like a lack of love. Because if there is love between two people, they should be able to iron out the incompatibilities. The incompatibilities should fade away, not the love.