Right now I am coming down from various highs: Tequila shots and mojitoes has left me giggly and silly, but the thrust behind my bouncing and general giddiness is that tonight I not only saw one of my favorite bands, Solas, (the best Celtic band in current existence), perform for the first time in a few years, but thanks to my roommate's assertive ways, I also got a photo taken with Seamus Egan, the band member I have ummm admired, for some time now. It was a real thrill for me.
Who the fuck is Seamus Egan?
Watch your language! We're talking about Seamus Egan, American-Irish-American man who plays more instruments than fingers on your right hand (and often all during the same song!). A man who not only plays, but writes, produces, and my GOD I hope receives royalties, particularly for recording the entire soundtrack to the fine movie, "The Brother's McMullen" and Sarah McLachlan's "I will remember you" which was a modified version of his own "Weep not for the Memories" (much better title, though I did think she did a good job with lyrics) as well as "Dancing on Dangerous Ground" which I unfortunately can't comment on. I just read somewhere that he's playing the flute in a cameo in the hysterical movie, "Waking Ned Devine." Well, that's a good reason to rent it and watch it again.
I first saw Seamus in a "Winter Solstice" concert I was dragged to when I lived in Madison, Wisconsin. Then, it was just him and another man, who at this inebriated moment, I believe was John Doyle? (so sorry!). Perched on bar stools, Seamus charmed the crowd with jokes and stories as the two of them played several songs that had the audience bouncing and clapping with gusto. The music, relatively new to me (except all the stuff we've all heard, like The Chieftains), was a delightfully impressionable experience. Maybe more importantly, he made me laugh, a lot. Those are the moments that foolish crushes are made of.
In the few years to come, I would see electrifying performances that blew my mind, with him in the original incarnation of Solas with Karan Casey who has sadly since moved on to do her own stuff. Some of her songs are still my favorite Solas ballads, for instance, my favorite, "I Am a Maid that Sleeps in Love," the bouncy "Níl 'Na Lá," and of course, the cheekily cautionary tale of, "Roger the Miller," which was first introduced to me by my beloved Dr. Mike (an Irish-American man who loves the group as much as I), who after giving me a brief and colorful synopsis, cranked up the volume and acted out the song with his large, expressive hands. A couple of years later I would turn my friend, who is now my roommate, onto Solas using the same song. He still loves to bring it up and is always harshly disappointed when Solas fails to play it at their performances.
I still remember blasting out "The Maid on the Shore" on my car radio as my friend and I made a day trip to the Mississippi river, especially the two parts in the song where Seamus just takes off! How geeky does it sound to be rocking on a road trip to Celtic music? But when you're rocketing down empty rural roads and the music is shooting up Up UP into the sky with the passionate ferocity like in this song, you feel like you are too.
I don't mean to pretend as if Solas hasn't been making albums, post-Karan Casey. They of course have and have been kicking just as much butt as ever before. I have their latest cd, Another Day next to me at this moment! Buy it! (and I don't usually say this about other music, but don't you dare download it!). This isn't taking $15 from disgustingly-rich Britney Spears. These are people who go out and play much more modest venues and give a lot more heart and soul to each performance than Britney gives in her left breast.
Their "new" singer is Deirdre Scanlan who has a strong and beautiful voice that I have come to admire more and more. And kudos to her for being friendly enough to actually encourage email to the group and then actually answer it too!
I have heard rumors since the beginning that Seamus and fellow talented bandmate Winifred Horan have been an item for years, *sigh* and can easily believe it by the moon eyes they seem to make at each other during a performance. It's not hard to imagine how playing live music with someone you fancy could be incredibly arousing. It's just another way to be intimate and connected, I suppose. I think I would jump the guy backstage as soon as the curtain fell.
There's just something about someone who is not just enormously talented, but after all these years (now 35, he recorded his first album at 16), seems to still play with such passion, such bliss. It makes me feel drawn to him the way you are to an actor who connects with you on screen. His head bobbing and dipping with the beats of his banjo, or the way his body sways along with the blur of his flying fingers on the flute. It's like the music is flowing through his fingers, through his body, and just bursting out of his skin. Besides the fact that each band member is enviably talented, I believe one of the reasons that the audience has been so completely alive and involved at every Solas concert I've been to has been to is that the band members play with this explosive joy that's unbelievably contagious. They lock eyes with each other to give encouragement, they grin and nod at each other as if they're just so glad to be doing this very thing at this very moment. The crowd stamps, it claps, it gives off numerous "YIPs" along the way. Everyone's having a great time. In the past I've found it difficult to stay in my chair and not jump up and dance around like a loon, as I did at a Paul Simon concert years ago, but sadly I suppose dignity takes precedence over spontaneity.
My boss at work said, "Well, did you talk to him?" and I had to stand there feeling like an idiot. Of course I had wanted to have a conversation with him, but I was just so surprised to get a picture that, as usual, I didn't really say anything, but babble on a few remarks about hoping they'd come back to NYC. Besides, I'm sure anything I might have said about his performance would have sounded ridiculous. "You were great, you were wonderful, I liked X song, I like when you play the flute (I do)," etc. You know, when you replay those moments later, you think of all the meaningful or interesting things you could have said. But the reality is that we do not think that fast, and besides, I have this weird thing about "bothering people." I wasn't always like this. I used to prod people, ask questions, delve into their lives (and often, people enjoy this!). But as I have grown older, and become even more private myself (if one who knows me can imagine that!), I have found a real reluctance to push myself into someone's life or to try and goad something out of them that they are not willing to offer up themselves. Asking someone to take a picture with you (me being a total stranger) is enough of an intrusion. To then stand there and force him, after an exuberant performance, to chat with said total stranger seems rather arrogant.
When I was in Thailand (blue-eyed, and at the time, blonde), I was constantly a curiosity, and people were always inserting themselves into my life. Normally, I tried to be polite and kind, but the truth was that most of the time I just wanted to escape. Strangers were always waving and saying 'hello' (which is nice). Sometimes they would just walk up to me and start talking in Thai or broken English. People poked their heads into the doorway of my home to get a good look around, then reported to all those around their impressions (usually about how messy I was for a single woman). Sometimes they just wanted to chat, which is okay, though often the topic of conversation was something along the lines of, "How much money do you make? You must be so rich!" Or of course, there's always the, "You are fat, you are beautiful!" said in the same breath. Other times they'd do things like ask me to start tutoring them in English (for free of course, since they could tutor me in Thai, ha ha). I think I was asked to tutor about 40 times during my stay there.
And aw hell, give me a break, I'm shy too! I'm sure the NEXT time I see Solas, whenever they decide to show their faces again, I will try to say more than, "Thanks for the picture."
Anyway, enough about me! Keep it up Solas, and don't stay away so long from NYC!
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Cyberlove Sucks
It was 11pm last Sunday; a beautiful night with a pleasant breeze. Rather drunk, I was crossing the lovely Park Avenue and feeling awful. The kind of awful, when combined with alcohol, induces you to call up an old boyfriend on your cellphone and leave philosophical/poetic messages on his voicemail.
Yes, I really did that. Luckily for me, the ex still welcomes such things and doesn't play them aloud to amused friends.
Why did I do this? Well....
Recently, I've been dealing with the various aspects of growing oldER (not old), which I've mentioned here and there in my posts. Strange things like having cuts & bruises healing slower, having a more difficult time maintaining and losing weight, finding it harder to find men, etc. The men thing has put me into a mopey funk.
I decided to go ahead and do the online dating thing. I signed up for two major ones. One because it was convenient, and one because it has tons of those lengthy "psychologist-approved" tests about how you see the world (or really, men). Flashing photos of men up on a screen and having you click on the hotties, and later click on the notties is quite an experience. Apparently I go for the hot guys, though I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise, though it is. I've always had those boyfriends that I thought were hot and my friends thought were "okay." I also go for the "puppy dog" guys who are slightly flawed but awfully cute (awww shucks) and the test also claimed at length how I find a certain chisled chin to my liking. Well!
Anyway, after much weeding out/rejection/hitting the delete button and then finally narrowing down to a precious few, I started emailing. Immediately they all want to meet (a further weeding out process), but I try to put them off so I can at least get to know them a LITTLE bit by email. (Not to mention, if you've been reading, my recent flourish of acne and slight weight gain). After awhile, I decide to just go for it.
I set up "dates" with two guys on Sunday. Both date ideas in and of themselves were very interesting. The first was an "all you can eat crab for $25" in Brooklyn. Armed with a small mallet, the brutal feast continues not so much until you're full, but until you get tired of the endless labor of smashing, picking, and pulling just to extract a tidbit of crabmeat.
The second date was at "The Boathouse" which is a beautiful place set on a lake deep within Central Park. It's very dreamy and romantic and was filled with beautiful people.
Notice how I concentrate on the SETTING and not the men themselves. The men, let's call them Mark and Edward, were both fine people. Both educated, nice men with interesting successful careers. You ask me, yeah, what's the problem?
Well, first of all, the two men who I saw that day were not QUITE what their pictures suggested. From their photos, I thought they were both thin, gorgeous guys with full heads of hair. One was thin, one was not, one was taller than me, one was not, one was balding quite a bit, one was on his way, etc. It's weird when you picture someone in your head and then when you see them...they are just not...quite...the...same. It makes me wonder what I must have looked like to them, though all my photos are pretty recent.
The first guy rides motorcycles, which does interest me a lot since I had one in Bangkok myself, but he seems to straddle the "biker" world which does make me a bit uneasy (due to past experiences with such a world). The black jeans, kick-your-ass black boots, and leather jacket despite the 88 degree weather were clues. He had a brilliant smile, and was okay to talk to, though not necessarily stimulating. Packed in tightly at the restaurant, I found that I started conversing at length with the older couple next to us (whom I had a freakingly large amount of things in common with!). I tried to include him or turn back to him, but it was harder to get the conversation flowing. After the couple left, we mostly got into depth about a personal problem of Mark's which was truly tragic. My heart really does go out to him though it did feel weird for 'first date conversation.'
After lunch we decided to walk off the minute meal through the lovely nearby park. We talked again which was pleasant enough though I don't really remember what we talked about...until...he said, "Remember when you asked me before why my username was absinthe?"
Then began a long conversation about the "misunderstood" liquid that is absinthe. Very well-educated and informed on the subject, Mark talked at length about its unfortunate history, its undeserving reputation (lots of the bad stuff being made by idiots with poor ingredients), and how to make it with an eye to top quality, since he made it himself, with great care. I guess it didn't really scare me. though it did make me emit a loud and long internal groan. Unfortunately I've already had a boyfriend who was way too much in love with his drug of choice, which is something I don't want to go through again, even if Mark is a nice guy. He's not THAT nice.
Soon after we walked back and I headed back home to shower and change for date #2.
I showed up at my second date a bit sweaty and out of breath (always attractive!) since the closest subway to the place was several blocks and avenues away. As the guy waved and came over, I remember my first thought being, again, "He looks different." Then, as he approached, I also noticed, "Oh, he's shorter than me!" Despite these not being dealbreakers, they still do start things off with a skewed first impression.
The guy was nice, intelligent, and seemed to be rather well-off (despite this, he did mooch a half-finished wine bottle left by the couple before us and claimed it was his when the waiter inquired). He was smooth...really really smooth, like slick, slippery smooth. He was only a few years older, but he just FELT older than that. Kind of grimy. I knew he wasn't really into me either, so we chatted amicably for a couple hours and then it was over. I felt relief as I walked away on that cool night, and then I was sad.
I guess what has put me in such a state of melancholy (great word) is that I am just finding it so hard to "make a connection" with a man now. I don't know if it's my age, if it's the fact that I'm not in school where men are as abundant as bean sprouts, or if I have somehow become much more selective. Perhaps it's a combination of the three (though I really don't think I'm any more selective than I was at 22). Maybe I'm less attractive than I used to be and so am not attracting the kind of guys I still like?
I don't know. I just know that as my inebriated self stumbled across the expansive Park Avenue toward the subway station (which I never got on, another long story), I was feeling lost and defeated. I didn't know if I had the stamina to keep doing this. I've never really been the kind of person who goes out on dates, and have never really enjoyed it. I've always found someone in a convenient way and then sprinted on to couplehood and comfort. I was thinking about how I have lived alone and enjoyed it so much for so long that I don't know if I am even that open to "making a connection" anymore. It's depressed me.
Then of course, I thought about whom I have had that connection with, and the old ex-boyfriend popped into my mind. Now unavailable and far far away, I thought about how easy it was with him and how hard it was now and naturally, I felt very sorry for myself. And unfortunately, that's when I got out my cellphone.
Yes, I really did that. Luckily for me, the ex still welcomes such things and doesn't play them aloud to amused friends.
Why did I do this? Well....
Recently, I've been dealing with the various aspects of growing oldER (not old), which I've mentioned here and there in my posts. Strange things like having cuts & bruises healing slower, having a more difficult time maintaining and losing weight, finding it harder to find men, etc. The men thing has put me into a mopey funk.
I decided to go ahead and do the online dating thing. I signed up for two major ones. One because it was convenient, and one because it has tons of those lengthy "psychologist-approved" tests about how you see the world (or really, men). Flashing photos of men up on a screen and having you click on the hotties, and later click on the notties is quite an experience. Apparently I go for the hot guys, though I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise, though it is. I've always had those boyfriends that I thought were hot and my friends thought were "okay." I also go for the "puppy dog" guys who are slightly flawed but awfully cute (awww shucks) and the test also claimed at length how I find a certain chisled chin to my liking. Well!
Anyway, after much weeding out/rejection/hitting the delete button and then finally narrowing down to a precious few, I started emailing. Immediately they all want to meet (a further weeding out process), but I try to put them off so I can at least get to know them a LITTLE bit by email. (Not to mention, if you've been reading, my recent flourish of acne and slight weight gain). After awhile, I decide to just go for it.
I set up "dates" with two guys on Sunday. Both date ideas in and of themselves were very interesting. The first was an "all you can eat crab for $25" in Brooklyn. Armed with a small mallet, the brutal feast continues not so much until you're full, but until you get tired of the endless labor of smashing, picking, and pulling just to extract a tidbit of crabmeat.
The second date was at "The Boathouse" which is a beautiful place set on a lake deep within Central Park. It's very dreamy and romantic and was filled with beautiful people.
Notice how I concentrate on the SETTING and not the men themselves. The men, let's call them Mark and Edward, were both fine people. Both educated, nice men with interesting successful careers. You ask me, yeah, what's the problem?
Well, first of all, the two men who I saw that day were not QUITE what their pictures suggested. From their photos, I thought they were both thin, gorgeous guys with full heads of hair. One was thin, one was not, one was taller than me, one was not, one was balding quite a bit, one was on his way, etc. It's weird when you picture someone in your head and then when you see them...they are just not...quite...the...same. It makes me wonder what I must have looked like to them, though all my photos are pretty recent.
The first guy rides motorcycles, which does interest me a lot since I had one in Bangkok myself, but he seems to straddle the "biker" world which does make me a bit uneasy (due to past experiences with such a world). The black jeans, kick-your-ass black boots, and leather jacket despite the 88 degree weather were clues. He had a brilliant smile, and was okay to talk to, though not necessarily stimulating. Packed in tightly at the restaurant, I found that I started conversing at length with the older couple next to us (whom I had a freakingly large amount of things in common with!). I tried to include him or turn back to him, but it was harder to get the conversation flowing. After the couple left, we mostly got into depth about a personal problem of Mark's which was truly tragic. My heart really does go out to him though it did feel weird for 'first date conversation.'
After lunch we decided to walk off the minute meal through the lovely nearby park. We talked again which was pleasant enough though I don't really remember what we talked about...until...he said, "Remember when you asked me before why my username was absinthe?"
Then began a long conversation about the "misunderstood" liquid that is absinthe. Very well-educated and informed on the subject, Mark talked at length about its unfortunate history, its undeserving reputation (lots of the bad stuff being made by idiots with poor ingredients), and how to make it with an eye to top quality, since he made it himself, with great care. I guess it didn't really scare me. though it did make me emit a loud and long internal groan. Unfortunately I've already had a boyfriend who was way too much in love with his drug of choice, which is something I don't want to go through again, even if Mark is a nice guy. He's not THAT nice.
Soon after we walked back and I headed back home to shower and change for date #2.
I showed up at my second date a bit sweaty and out of breath (always attractive!) since the closest subway to the place was several blocks and avenues away. As the guy waved and came over, I remember my first thought being, again, "He looks different." Then, as he approached, I also noticed, "Oh, he's shorter than me!" Despite these not being dealbreakers, they still do start things off with a skewed first impression.
The guy was nice, intelligent, and seemed to be rather well-off (despite this, he did mooch a half-finished wine bottle left by the couple before us and claimed it was his when the waiter inquired). He was smooth...really really smooth, like slick, slippery smooth. He was only a few years older, but he just FELT older than that. Kind of grimy. I knew he wasn't really into me either, so we chatted amicably for a couple hours and then it was over. I felt relief as I walked away on that cool night, and then I was sad.
I guess what has put me in such a state of melancholy (great word) is that I am just finding it so hard to "make a connection" with a man now. I don't know if it's my age, if it's the fact that I'm not in school where men are as abundant as bean sprouts, or if I have somehow become much more selective. Perhaps it's a combination of the three (though I really don't think I'm any more selective than I was at 22). Maybe I'm less attractive than I used to be and so am not attracting the kind of guys I still like?
I don't know. I just know that as my inebriated self stumbled across the expansive Park Avenue toward the subway station (which I never got on, another long story), I was feeling lost and defeated. I didn't know if I had the stamina to keep doing this. I've never really been the kind of person who goes out on dates, and have never really enjoyed it. I've always found someone in a convenient way and then sprinted on to couplehood and comfort. I was thinking about how I have lived alone and enjoyed it so much for so long that I don't know if I am even that open to "making a connection" anymore. It's depressed me.
Then of course, I thought about whom I have had that connection with, and the old ex-boyfriend popped into my mind. Now unavailable and far far away, I thought about how easy it was with him and how hard it was now and naturally, I felt very sorry for myself. And unfortunately, that's when I got out my cellphone.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
New Kid in Town
A childhood friend of mine is in town and staying with me. We've known each other since we were five years old and have grown up together on the same street most of our childhood 'til graduation day (when I happily took off days later). I don't get to see her that much anymore, and am very excited she's here.
And she brought her kid.
Her daughter is nine years old and an only child. As far as "spoiled" I would say 'yes' and 'no.' She is not horribly spoiled in the sense where all you fantasize about is dropping her out a 12-story window, but since she is an only child, she has that sort of whiny, need-to-be-the-center-of-attention, used-to-getting-her-way kind of thing that can grind on your nerves and test your patience. Most of the time she's a pretty happy and animated kid, but she does need to be the star of the show all the time which is very annoying when you want to catch up with a friend you haven't seen in two years.
I wouldn't call the child klutzy or destructive, but since they've arrived, the following have happened, in no particular order:
- a large picture frame fell off the wall and the glass smashed
- the 20-inch TV and cable box catapulted off the TV stand and onto the floor (THANKFULLY not broken!)
- the kitchen sink clogged (with Lucky Charms)
- the shower drain clogged (with god only knows)
- my keys were dropped down the elevator shaft
- the blinds in the living room window were pulled all the way down and will no longer roll up.
- my large basket of make-up/hair stuff "fell all by itself" and dumped itself all over the floor
- mysteriously, my expensive, last-for-six-months eye makeup remover now only has a dribble left in the bottle
- my cats aren't speaking to me
That's all I can think of right now. That's enough. I know there's a couple more. To be fair, I cannot directly contribute each thing to the daughter (let's call her Britney), but when stuff that doesn't normally happen starts happening, you get suspicious. Truthfully, I'm a little bit terrified of what might happen in the next few days (they're here 'til Thursday). I feel powerless to stop this tide of fate.
And to try and be even fairer, we have done some great things while they've been here. I think my friend is afraid she will never go on a real vacation again (besides the surrounding areas in Arizona where she lives), and is doing one of these "pack 500 activities into each day" kind of things. As someone who lives and works here, that is just too exhausting.
But I did discover that you CAN go onto the roof of my building and seeing as how I'm on Avenue C, I had an incredible view of the fireworks! (though I missed the majority of it waiting for the elevator technician to show up with my keys). I got to go to the Met which I should have done by now, but never got around to (though Britney basically sprinted through the whole museum and whined when her mother lagged behind). I also saw Spiderman 2 (in my beloved Astor Plaza theater) which I thought kicked ass! Britney was quite good then.
I always go through this strange thing with people, particularly guests. It's like, I let them kind of take advantage of me, and I get super pissed off inside, but then I'm like, "They're the guest, you have to show them the time of their life. It's just a small bit of inconvenience for you! It's worth it if they have a wonderful time!" But somehow, the resentment inside me, though I try to hide it, kind of shines through and then the person ends up resenting me. I'm shit socially. This is why I should live alone...forever!
Like, last night, after an exhausting trip through the Met and a substantial amount of time spent in the NBC "Experience" store, I told my friend and her daughter that I was going to head home because a) i was exhausted, b) i had lots of laundry to do and c) i had to work tomorrow so couldn't run myself ragged today. All of these were true, but also, there was d) I need to be ALONE and away from you, no matter how cool you are! It's not just them, though I needed to get away from Britney for awhile, it's just that I can be like this with anyone if I'm spending 24/7 with. It's just too taxing on me. After living alone for the past 8 years (it's only the past 7 months I've had roommates again), it's very difficult for me to be in close contact with an individual non-stop like that. I start to feel suffocated and cranky. I thought I was going to KILL my mother during her two weeks in Thailand with me. With a whiny child, it's unbearable. Back in my apartment, I felt so free. I cooled down, played computer games, ate a gallon or two of chips and salsa, soothed my cats, watched copious amounts of Law & Order, took a shower, and did the laundry. It was great. I thought, maybe about 2 hours of freedom. That was about 6pm.
Then it was 9pm. Then 10pm. Then 11pm. No call. Oh god! My friend in NYC with a kid and she's like dead or something! I tried her cellphone -- no luck. Well, I told myself, maybe she did get those half-priced Broadway tickets after all and is enjoying a lively showing of The Lion King. Or, maybe she's in the morgue!
She finally called about 15 minutes later -- they had been spending most of the time at the Empire State Building -- and they were coming back. They wouldn't return til past midnight. I was kind of pissed off because I had to work the next day and would be getting up at 6:30p.m. My friend had already hinted earlier that she was a little disappointed that we hadn't gotten a chance to really talk since when we get home so late at night, I make sure they're settled in and then go to bed. Well, damn, I've been fucking exhausted each night! And it's not like I've been going to bed at 9pm either; it's been late! I do want to talk to her, but it's hard to have a heart to heart when there's Britney around. She stays up just as late as the mother.
I have grown nervous that my long-time friendship with my friend will now suffer due to my annoyance. It's hard to love a friend who is growing increasingly annoyed by your kid, I know that. I was hoping that maybe tonight we can have one of those long, lazy dinners... though I'm also concerned that it's still another week til payday and her visit has slowly drained my finances (she's been very generous with me as well).
It's funny, before I was a teacher, I wasn't a great lover of kids. I didn't dislike them, it's just that I was never that person who says, "Oh I love children!" I always thought that was just a crock of shit -- something someone says to try and sound like a good person. When I became a teacher, and eventually had my own class (6th graders), finally, after awhile... I fell in love with them. I mean, I just loved them so much, I lived and breathed for them. Even today, I find myself coming up with great ideas for them, and then I realize that I'm not their teacher anymore (I'm not anyone's teacher anymore). When that happened, when I started to just love them, I found that I started to love all children. When I saw them on the street I often smiled or talked to them, and I found that I had a minor gift in communicating with them. Children (as well as cats) have always been drawn to me whether or not I wanted them to be, but now I welcomed it.
But, now, after about 7-8 months in NYC, that feeling is beginning to fade away. Now, I often find children to be annoying -- an obstacle in my way. This feeling really has more to do with the parents whom I find absolutely fucking intolerable (see some of my old posts regarding parents and children), and of course, those feelings spread to their kids. I still resent the parent marching down the street with their SUV-sized stroller acting like they're driving a fucking tank through Tiananmen Square. I'm not going to be run into the street by a baby stroller because you think you have some sort of moral imperative! *pant pant*
I'm calm now.
And now, after spending time with Britney, I'm starting to wonder about having kids. I've talked about it before, how so many of my friends are consciously choosing to never have children. I've been fascinated by this, and admiring it, though never really wanting it for myself. Still, at this moment, I want children, or at least one, though I wonder if I am unselfish enough for one. I feel like it's taken me my whole life to be happy, feel good, be relatively well-adjusted, to enjoy being alone, to be content with the way things are (except money), etc. Now that I'm enjoying myself, it's hard to imagine having to take care of a kid. I just am so totally selfish a person. And what if my kid sucks? It's not like you can take it back to the pound.
Well, I've written plenty and my lunch break is over. Time to go....blah.
A childhood friend of mine is in town and staying with me. We've known each other since we were five years old and have grown up together on the same street most of our childhood 'til graduation day (when I happily took off days later). I don't get to see her that much anymore, and am very excited she's here.
And she brought her kid.
Her daughter is nine years old and an only child. As far as "spoiled" I would say 'yes' and 'no.' She is not horribly spoiled in the sense where all you fantasize about is dropping her out a 12-story window, but since she is an only child, she has that sort of whiny, need-to-be-the-center-of-attention, used-to-getting-her-way kind of thing that can grind on your nerves and test your patience. Most of the time she's a pretty happy and animated kid, but she does need to be the star of the show all the time which is very annoying when you want to catch up with a friend you haven't seen in two years.
I wouldn't call the child klutzy or destructive, but since they've arrived, the following have happened, in no particular order:
- a large picture frame fell off the wall and the glass smashed
- the 20-inch TV and cable box catapulted off the TV stand and onto the floor (THANKFULLY not broken!)
- the kitchen sink clogged (with Lucky Charms)
- the shower drain clogged (with god only knows)
- my keys were dropped down the elevator shaft
- the blinds in the living room window were pulled all the way down and will no longer roll up.
- my large basket of make-up/hair stuff "fell all by itself" and dumped itself all over the floor
- mysteriously, my expensive, last-for-six-months eye makeup remover now only has a dribble left in the bottle
- my cats aren't speaking to me
That's all I can think of right now. That's enough. I know there's a couple more. To be fair, I cannot directly contribute each thing to the daughter (let's call her Britney), but when stuff that doesn't normally happen starts happening, you get suspicious. Truthfully, I'm a little bit terrified of what might happen in the next few days (they're here 'til Thursday). I feel powerless to stop this tide of fate.
And to try and be even fairer, we have done some great things while they've been here. I think my friend is afraid she will never go on a real vacation again (besides the surrounding areas in Arizona where she lives), and is doing one of these "pack 500 activities into each day" kind of things. As someone who lives and works here, that is just too exhausting.
But I did discover that you CAN go onto the roof of my building and seeing as how I'm on Avenue C, I had an incredible view of the fireworks! (though I missed the majority of it waiting for the elevator technician to show up with my keys). I got to go to the Met which I should have done by now, but never got around to (though Britney basically sprinted through the whole museum and whined when her mother lagged behind). I also saw Spiderman 2 (in my beloved Astor Plaza theater) which I thought kicked ass! Britney was quite good then.
I always go through this strange thing with people, particularly guests. It's like, I let them kind of take advantage of me, and I get super pissed off inside, but then I'm like, "They're the guest, you have to show them the time of their life. It's just a small bit of inconvenience for you! It's worth it if they have a wonderful time!" But somehow, the resentment inside me, though I try to hide it, kind of shines through and then the person ends up resenting me. I'm shit socially. This is why I should live alone...forever!
Like, last night, after an exhausting trip through the Met and a substantial amount of time spent in the NBC "Experience" store, I told my friend and her daughter that I was going to head home because a) i was exhausted, b) i had lots of laundry to do and c) i had to work tomorrow so couldn't run myself ragged today. All of these were true, but also, there was d) I need to be ALONE and away from you, no matter how cool you are! It's not just them, though I needed to get away from Britney for awhile, it's just that I can be like this with anyone if I'm spending 24/7 with. It's just too taxing on me. After living alone for the past 8 years (it's only the past 7 months I've had roommates again), it's very difficult for me to be in close contact with an individual non-stop like that. I start to feel suffocated and cranky. I thought I was going to KILL my mother during her two weeks in Thailand with me. With a whiny child, it's unbearable. Back in my apartment, I felt so free. I cooled down, played computer games, ate a gallon or two of chips and salsa, soothed my cats, watched copious amounts of Law & Order, took a shower, and did the laundry. It was great. I thought, maybe about 2 hours of freedom. That was about 6pm.
Then it was 9pm. Then 10pm. Then 11pm. No call. Oh god! My friend in NYC with a kid and she's like dead or something! I tried her cellphone -- no luck. Well, I told myself, maybe she did get those half-priced Broadway tickets after all and is enjoying a lively showing of The Lion King. Or, maybe she's in the morgue!
She finally called about 15 minutes later -- they had been spending most of the time at the Empire State Building -- and they were coming back. They wouldn't return til past midnight. I was kind of pissed off because I had to work the next day and would be getting up at 6:30p.m. My friend had already hinted earlier that she was a little disappointed that we hadn't gotten a chance to really talk since when we get home so late at night, I make sure they're settled in and then go to bed. Well, damn, I've been fucking exhausted each night! And it's not like I've been going to bed at 9pm either; it's been late! I do want to talk to her, but it's hard to have a heart to heart when there's Britney around. She stays up just as late as the mother.
I have grown nervous that my long-time friendship with my friend will now suffer due to my annoyance. It's hard to love a friend who is growing increasingly annoyed by your kid, I know that. I was hoping that maybe tonight we can have one of those long, lazy dinners... though I'm also concerned that it's still another week til payday and her visit has slowly drained my finances (she's been very generous with me as well).
It's funny, before I was a teacher, I wasn't a great lover of kids. I didn't dislike them, it's just that I was never that person who says, "Oh I love children!" I always thought that was just a crock of shit -- something someone says to try and sound like a good person. When I became a teacher, and eventually had my own class (6th graders), finally, after awhile... I fell in love with them. I mean, I just loved them so much, I lived and breathed for them. Even today, I find myself coming up with great ideas for them, and then I realize that I'm not their teacher anymore (I'm not anyone's teacher anymore). When that happened, when I started to just love them, I found that I started to love all children. When I saw them on the street I often smiled or talked to them, and I found that I had a minor gift in communicating with them. Children (as well as cats) have always been drawn to me whether or not I wanted them to be, but now I welcomed it.
But, now, after about 7-8 months in NYC, that feeling is beginning to fade away. Now, I often find children to be annoying -- an obstacle in my way. This feeling really has more to do with the parents whom I find absolutely fucking intolerable (see some of my old posts regarding parents and children), and of course, those feelings spread to their kids. I still resent the parent marching down the street with their SUV-sized stroller acting like they're driving a fucking tank through Tiananmen Square. I'm not going to be run into the street by a baby stroller because you think you have some sort of moral imperative! *pant pant*
I'm calm now.
And now, after spending time with Britney, I'm starting to wonder about having kids. I've talked about it before, how so many of my friends are consciously choosing to never have children. I've been fascinated by this, and admiring it, though never really wanting it for myself. Still, at this moment, I want children, or at least one, though I wonder if I am unselfish enough for one. I feel like it's taken me my whole life to be happy, feel good, be relatively well-adjusted, to enjoy being alone, to be content with the way things are (except money), etc. Now that I'm enjoying myself, it's hard to imagine having to take care of a kid. I just am so totally selfish a person. And what if my kid sucks? It's not like you can take it back to the pound.
Well, I've written plenty and my lunch break is over. Time to go....blah.
Friday, July 02, 2004
Zit Face - Me
So, I had to do that thing that all women dread more than a sharp stick in the eye – the gynecologist. It doesn’t matter how understanding, fantastic, slow, warm (hands) the doctor is, this exam is one of the most uncomfortable experiences in my life. Every woman I know dreads this much more than anything the dentist can dream up.
It didn’t stop there though. I had to get a new prescription of birth control pills. Sadly, not because I’m a raging slut *sigh* but because I just need them. With all the other benefits besides preventing pregnancy, (more controlled PMS and shorter/lighter periods), bcp’s are a godsend. (ha ha).
So, I started to take these new pills and within a few days, something started to happen. My face…totally…broke out! We’re talking pizza face extreme. Zits everywhere, EVERYwhere. I was immediately reverted to my teenage years but without all the youthful glow to my skin (acne and wrinkles, hooray!). As a teenager, I had it rough because I had MASSIVE acne. And being who I am, I was also unable to keep myself from prodding, poking, scratching, and jabbing each nasty little bugger that surfaced on my face. I still can’t. At least in my later 20’s, and with the occasional help from prescribed medicine or bcp’s with that added benefit, they have begun to disappear from my face. There have even been many times where I haven’t had a single zit in sight.
Not anymore. I look ridiculous. Of course, I’ve also mysteriously gained 5lbs in like a week despite my continued gym visits/incessant Jesus-like walking around NYC. I don’t get it.
I blame the pills.
Luckily, after contacting my health care provider (She’s actually a licensed midwife, not a doctor, kind of cool), she gladly changed my prescription, though I have to “finish off” my current one. Looks like I’ll be pizza face for a few weeks yet. Hooray! And this with two separate visits from two friends who haven’t seen me in a long time (argh!) and two upcoming “blind dates” with men I’d like to impress with more than my wit and intelligence (gah!).
Now all I need to do is wake up with braces in my mouth again.
It didn’t stop there though. I had to get a new prescription of birth control pills. Sadly, not because I’m a raging slut *sigh* but because I just need them. With all the other benefits besides preventing pregnancy, (more controlled PMS and shorter/lighter periods), bcp’s are a godsend. (ha ha).
So, I started to take these new pills and within a few days, something started to happen. My face…totally…broke out! We’re talking pizza face extreme. Zits everywhere, EVERYwhere. I was immediately reverted to my teenage years but without all the youthful glow to my skin (acne and wrinkles, hooray!). As a teenager, I had it rough because I had MASSIVE acne. And being who I am, I was also unable to keep myself from prodding, poking, scratching, and jabbing each nasty little bugger that surfaced on my face. I still can’t. At least in my later 20’s, and with the occasional help from prescribed medicine or bcp’s with that added benefit, they have begun to disappear from my face. There have even been many times where I haven’t had a single zit in sight.
Not anymore. I look ridiculous. Of course, I’ve also mysteriously gained 5lbs in like a week despite my continued gym visits/incessant Jesus-like walking around NYC. I don’t get it.
I blame the pills.
Luckily, after contacting my health care provider (She’s actually a licensed midwife, not a doctor, kind of cool), she gladly changed my prescription, though I have to “finish off” my current one. Looks like I’ll be pizza face for a few weeks yet. Hooray! And this with two separate visits from two friends who haven’t seen me in a long time (argh!) and two upcoming “blind dates” with men I’d like to impress with more than my wit and intelligence (gah!).
Now all I need to do is wake up with braces in my mouth again.
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