On the Road Again...

Been flying around the country for work... more ahead... will write when not so tired and travel weary...

Miami can't come soon enough... 3 days...

50 Things

This was a great lesson in humility, self-confidence, humor, reflection and general introspection. I wanted to see if I could come up with 50 things that make me happy in 25 minutes. Now, this is not Earth-shattering stuff here. It's light. I'm not talking about saving the world from poverty and war or making sure every stray has a home or mending all socks that need darning, I'm talking about frivolous stuff that just makes me grin. Sometimes those things are the hardest to see - they can be right in front of you and you look past... You should try it. Take 25 minutes. If you can't come up with 50, then you're either making it way too difficult on yourself or you need an injection of levity in your life. Either way you'll feel a sense of accomplishment at the end. Simple thing, really - trust me.

Things That Make Me Happy: (a.k.a. Reasons To Shut Up And Stop Bitching, Life Is Good Even When It's Hard)

1) PUPPIES: I'm serious, I love 'em.
2) GOOD BOOKS: I admire a good wordsmith.
3) BAD BOOKS: Remind me why I'm not a writer.
4) MY APARTMENT: Big ups to BKLYN, baby!
5) CJ: He makes my brain tingle and my heart thump.
6) CANDY: Who doesn't love candy?
7) DIET COKE: With all the candy, I need a light soda.
8) SNOW STORMS: Snow = winter's eraser.
9) BIRDS: They sound pretty and I like that they can fly. That's cool.
10) JAZZ: That's some good shit right there.
11) MAKE-UP: It's a costume for your face.
12) SHOES: 'Nuff said.
13) SAMPLE SALES: Great clothes, tiny prices.
14) CHEESEBURGERS: Beef & dairy - 2 great tastes that taste great together.
15) EXCEEDINGLY BAD POP MUSIC: Ashlee Simpson, you're my hero. Love to hate her.
16) KA: She's awesome, she's hot, no - we're not dating.
17) SKYDIVING: Hate flying, hate heights, love the rush when you step out.
18) FLOWERS: Smell good, look good - that's what all women want.
19) MAGAZINES: Trash or substance, I love them all.
20) PAPER: It's tactile and non-electronic. That rocks!
21) THE WORD "BELLY": Makes me giggle, always has.
22) DIRTY MARTINIS W/EXTRA OLIVES: Sip, chew - it's a drink and a snack.
23) BABY LAUGHS: The best sound in the world.
24) MAY: Great month, almost perfect weather everywhere in the U.S.
25) DANCING NAKED IN MY BEDROOM WHILE SINGING: You get that one.
26) MY ROOMMATES: If you meet them, even once, you'll know why I love them.
27) SEWING: I love creating something, it's the best feeling I've ever had - truly.
28) SEX: OK, so sewing isn't the best physical feeling.
29) FRESH CUT GRASS: Quintessential fresh smell, plus it feels nice on the tootsies.
30) WEEHAWKEN: Blvd. East - the view of NYC is pure magic.
31) iPODS: I'm a lemming, what can I say?
32) COFFEE: I need it, I flat-out neeeeeed the stuff.
33) HENDRICK'S GIN: I don't need it, but it's nice.
34) MT: He's great, I like how he talks and what he says. All-around interesting is hard to find.
35) PERFUME: Scent is important - flowers or poo? Your call.
36) THE INTERNET: You go, Al Gore! (snarf)
37) NEW YORK: The place is sharp and soft at once - it will cut you and then dress your wound.
38) SUNSHINE: It feels good when it warms your back on a cool Spring morning.
39) POLY-BLEND KNIT: Lets me design for every body type, it's not cool to be exclusionary.
40) FOREIGN LANGUAGES: They sound neat.
41) BREATHING: Life-affirmation at it's most simplistic.
42) ICE: Lends a helping hand to warm Diet Coke everywhere. (And comes in handy for #28.)
43) CUTTING MY OWN HAIR: Even if it's not perfect it makes me feel good.
44) COMPLIMENTS FROM STRANGERS: Ego boost? Yes, please.
45) TRIPPING: (not the acidic kind) Reminds me I have 2 legs that work - be glad.
46) TALL BUILDINGS: Architectural engineering fascintates me.
47) ART: In every form - I want to know the story behind the story.
48) STATUE OF LIBERTY: I tell her hello every day - she's a constant, that's rare in NYC.
49) SHINY THINGS: Sparkley is fun.
50) COMFORTABLE CHAIRS: I like good design and good-feeling keisters.

Short & Bittersweet

This weekend was probably one of the best I've had since I moved. It's also the first time I've missed DC. Not terribly, not like I want to move back (couldn't ever do that), but I missed it today. I actually went out and had a great time with some friends, met a few cool people, but at the end of the day I sleep in an empty bed. Tonight that stings a bit.

Shrimp & Champagne... Happy Thursday

Just got back from dinner with 2 friends (3rd pretty late night this week). These particular friends are women I work with, and am lucky enough to call "friends" as well. They're great people and we went to a restaurant with a spectacular view of the NYC skyline. 2 bottles of champagne and many plates of seafood later we know a little more about each other, added a few belly laughs to our collections, and walked away with a good feeling inside about life and friendship and, well... champagne.

Tonight's dinner was one of a few dinners this week with friends. That's a strange thing for me because I generally spend a lot of time by myself. I'm out and about a lot, usually alone, wandering in the city somewhere. I like doing that (satisfies the explorer/crazy/nomad/loner/seeker in me), but it's a welcome break to get to spend time with people I truly enjoy and don't get to see very often. This big place can be lonely, so good company really packs a punch.

Tuesday night I went out with a friend who is one of the funniest people I know. He says funny things a lot, and often without awareness of the humor, or at least, absent a humorous intent. The best yet, "You see, I'm an awkward person..." Priceless. Funny if you don't know him, immensely funnier if you do. I think his brain works in ways that mine can only hope to understand at some point. Like his mind functions on a higher level or something, and he can't only think about one thing at a time. That's not to say he doesn't focus, not the case at all (he's intense), but it's as if he's always got about 4 other thoughts going on - all at various stages of complexity and development. It's pretty fascinating. I like talking with him a lot. He makes me think. Thinking is good. Tuesday was a good day.

I'm so tired right now that I can't think. That's not good. Must sleep now. ZZZzzzzzz...

Spanking New Post (nuttin' but love fo ya, MT)

OK, so this blogging thing is weird, right? I mean, I think it's weird. I love it, but I tend to love weird things, so the fact that I think blogging is weird and I love it must mean that it's definitely, without a doubt - weird. It's anonymous, but not really (I post under my first name, I disclose my city of residency, I post pictures of me [albeit from the neck down, and that's only because it's hard to photograph my clothes when I'm wearing them...], and I write about real-life events - so I don't give my full name and contact info, but it's not as if I'm lacking an identity here... and yet I sometimes write about pretty deep stuff usually stored down in the pits of me, stuff that I probably would have a hard time voicing in reality-land). It's public, but not really (yes, this is the internet... but you see, the thing is that there are about 3 people who check into this blog from time to time and they all know me and my stories, so the level of public display isn't exactly of gargantuan proportion). It's an expression of emotions and experiences that only a handful of people know I have and only a handful more actually read. Well, if you're me that's how it is anyway. Just something I was thinking about on the train tonight. Interesting. Well, to me anyway.

Random tangent: I was thinking on the train today (I do much pondering underground) that I am quite a fortunate person. I am. In practically every sense. I have a family I love, even when I hate them. I have friends who put up with me, even when I'm unbearable to anyone else. I live in Brooklyn and it's amazing here, even when it's crazyunbelievablydifficult. I live with two women who inspire me, even in times of desperate emptiness on all our parts. I have a job, even though I find it difficult to drag myself to every day. I am intelligent, despite brief moments of extreme stupidity. I'm attractive, although I am surely not attractive after a bout of crying, exercising, heavy drinking, or deep thought (required prereqs to live in this city). I can sew like a muthafucka, even though I have no formal training. I can read and write and occasionally string together a comprehensive thought, in spite of no college degree (not that I haven't taken enough classes to have undergrad done and be halfway through a grad program by now). Now here's the rub - I get sad. More and more lately. Sadness is normal, I realize that and I don't deny it's a neccessary component of a healthy life, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it. Which is a good thing, because I really don't like it. Really don't. Getting sad makes me sad. Well, more sad than the original sadness. A heightened state of sadness, if you will. My sadness level has actually reached red on the threat scale in the last 5 months. It was an innocuous yellow yesterday, and I think today it might actually be low enough for full-on green, but it's been red. So my strategy is to think about the green days and try to learn from the red ones. Today was a glorious green. It's Spring. Spring has sprung in New York city and it's glorious. I bought a painting today and that's the oh-so-appropriate title - Spring. I look for the greens in life. I think there are many more on the way. I feel good about that. Good enough to weather the reds when they stop by.

Insider info for the 3 people who will probably read this: you make my reds easier and my greens brighter. It probably sounds excessively corny, but that's a gift and I appreciate you. I do. More than my words can convey.

Crying in my coffee

Yesterday was great. Saw Sin City, went for a run (intimidated, erm... inspired by the gorgeous women in the movie - even though they have personal trainers, chefs, and body make-up), walked around Park Slope, got some laundry done, designed and made a dress that I'm really happy with, read a bit further into the fantastic book I'm reading (Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer... who I was privleged to see tonight at a reading given at the poetry center @ the 92nd St. Y - he's 28 and has had 2 best sellers published, what the hell am I doing with my life?), and generally had a nice day.

It was great on the outside. It was rather sad on the inside. Not a boundless-happiness-dripping-from-every-pore kind of day. Just a little too into my own head and a smidge too deep into my emotions for a nice Sunday. Wish I could silence the doubts and fears for just a week. They're persistent buggers, that's for sure. Sometimes I think I have them beaten and just then, in that brief moment confidence they come back to slap me in the face just because they can.

Fuckers. I just want to have a good time in New York. I moved here to fulfill myself and I'm still doing a whole hell of a lot of holding myself back. That's no way to love yourself. No way to be fair and good to yourself.

Fern Frock - front 

Fern Frock - back 

"Wow" Moment

Just got home from the most moving and thought provoking theatre experience I've ever had (check out the link, and if you're anywhere near NYC get tickets - you will not be disappointed). There are a few things I want to say about the play and the surrounding events. Since I am completely awestruck right now and cannot really string thoughts together in a fashion befitting the masterful display of craft I've just seen, I'm resorting to a list.

1) My roommate is beyond amazing. Not only is she beautiful and intelligent, but she's incredibly articulate in a way that makes me marvel at her ability to use the English language to perfectly convey what she's thinking and feeling. Most of us are just schlubs who happen to speak and write occasionally compared to her. She's friggin awesome. Through her I have met fantastic people who I truly enjoy and respect. 8 of them came with us to the play tonight. We had dinner together before the show and I'm really glad I got to see them all. I wake up every day and it occurs to me how lucky I am to live where I do, with the 2 women I live with - they're both inspiring for me.

2) This freaking play, dude. Yowza. The Last Days of Judas Iscariot. Umm... where to start? It's directed by Philip Seymour Hoffman (and who doesn't just love him?) and acted by some of the most talented actors arguably in the country - maybe even the world right now. The timing was spot-on, the balance of humor and darkness mixed with a sincere poignancy was enough to blow your mind, and the deep contemplation provoked by the subject matter alone is still churning in my brain.

3) I want to read everything I can about Judas Escariot and what his true motives may have been when he betrayed his best friend and (some say) son of God. Did he act selfishly, wanting only the 30 pieces of silver, knowing his dear friend would surely be killed (then you throw in the question of Pontius Pilot - it was his job to preside and decide the fate of accused men... was he simply following the orders of his job description or was he seeing nothing but just another Jew in front of him when he condemned Jesus to death on the cross???)? Was he attempting to force Jesus to act out and start the revolution against the Romans that only the Messiah was capable of waging? No one really knows I guess. I'm completely fascinated with the very human relationships behind some of the most well-known Bible stories (although I have little to no interest in the religions involved for the most part).

4) Simply because I'm a little star struck and gawk at celebs whenever I can... one of the highlights of the evening was standing outside the Public Theater after the show, smoking a cigarrette with 1/2 the cast and my friends. Way cool. Philip Seymour Hoffman is so fabulous I almost couldn't stand it. And Eric Bogosian? Damn, never thought Satan could be so deliciously sarcastic and sexy. Grrr.

It's late and my brain is working overtime crunching on all this heavy subject matter. I'm going to go dream about Judas (played by Sam Rockwell, btw, who has the cutest little tush and is better in this than he was in Charlie's Angels [gee, think it could be the material?]) and Saint Monica (wow, was she ridiculously good).

Chew, Spit, Stare

I spent most of the last week in Florida. Sounds like a good time, right? Well, that might have been the case if I had been in any of the many, many fun parts of the state. Alas, I was not in the fun part, I was in the redneck, backwoods part that happens to have palm trees and a fantastic beach. I'm sure I could have found some great things about the town, had I not been there for work and spent all my time in a dust filled construction site trying to escape the lewd stares of a crew of tobacco chewing men with only a handful of teeth among them. Not cool.

Saw a guy almost cut his hand off with a table saw. That was bad. Bad in the sense that, well, he was obviously seriously injured and there's no way he has health insurance. He was told to see a hand specialist w/in 3 days or he'd lose most motor function... I have a guess about whether or not he went. Poor man.

Oh, almost forgot the best part - I was only supposed to be there overnight. That was the plan, anyway. I packed what seemed like a perfectly reasonable amount of clothing for a 24 hour trip... one shirt and one pair of undies. Simple math will tell you that those articles are not nearly enough clothing for 4 days. Especially when covered in a daily coating of sheetrock dust and tiny flecks of white paint. Thank goodness for the Gap Outlet. They have everything there. Where else can you pick up a shirt, a pair of capris, and 2 pairs of socks for under $40? Awesome.