15 Things

Because, well, I'm a sucker for the list format, because this sort of exercise seems like the ideal way to start a Friday morning, and because Marmoset, who is a dear friend of mine and often filled with good ideas, made me do it:

15 things you probably wish you didn't know about me

1. When I was young, I got several awards for being a nice kid, which makes my friends laugh now. My parents still have the trophies to prove it.


2. Sometimes I still dream about moving back to London, particularly when it's gray and dreary outside. But, I think that I would miss New York far too much.


3. I think that I look much, much better in my glasses. Yet, at formal occasions, I always wear my contacts.


4. My parents tricked me into going into the "friendly" haunted house at Disney World when I was 5. I hated every minute of it--especially since I didn't want to go in to it in the first place. I haven't gone into a haunted house since.


5. I love public speaking, in general, and giving wedding toasts in particular.


6. To this day, my school district requires that a sign reading "check for sleeping children" be placed in the back of each bus. I am largely responsible for this. Go on, ask me the story.


7. I eat based on texture. Anything too chewy or gelatinous is out. So, no puddings, jello, etc.


8. When it comes to relationships, I'm terrified of commitment. Ironically, every time I meet a man who I think might be worth committing to, he seems to have larger commitment issues than I do.


9. I like to pretend that I'm a big film geek. The truth is that there are shocking gaps in my cinematic knowledge. The same holds true when it comes to literature. In fact, I didn't read The Wasteland until I was in graduate school. I'm still not convinced that I missed out on anything.


10. In college, one of my friends told me that he referred to the way I spoke as "Jane Austen speak." Then, a few years ago, I started blogging for work. One of my colleagues said, "I was going to tell you to make the pieces more conversational, until I realized that was the way you spoke." I should be insulted. Instead, I like to think that I speak like someone who was properly educated. I do, however, worry that this makes me sound arrogant.


11. I didn't eat red meat for more than 12 years. When I started eating it again, I didn't eat anything else for a week straight. Clearly, I'm not good at moderation.


12. I'm afraid of falling from heights.


13. According to my sister, I get a certain look in my eyes when I'm about to say something exceptionally obnoxious or sarcastic.


14. I secretly want to be someone's one who got away. I secretly also want to be a socialite, so I'm not sure how seriously you should take this point.


15. I've been known to take 3 showers in one day when it's really, really hot out. In the winter, I'm all about taking baths.
    

Restlessness

It occurred to me yesterday that I haven't been able to get out of bed, without getting back in, that is, since at least the start of the year. This would be fine, except that I'm also not sleeping. And, cannot remember the last time that I didn't wake up at 4 am, after a few hours of restless sleep.

I spent the day fighting back tears. Especially worrying since I'm not much of a crier, really. I'm still feeling a little raw. And, by a little, I mean completely.

So, perhaps it's time to take the first step towards doing something: I'm not doing well, not sleeping well and am generally terrified of what's in store and of time frames.

That's it for the day. No musings about what it all means. Just an attempt to fill the void. And, a request: give me a wide berth. Clearly, I'm not myself these days.

Diminishing Returns

My sister and I, when we talk, talk in the language of loss, of things that haven't happened, choices that should have been made.

We don't mean to, really. It just kind of happens.

I suppose it's who we are.

Admittedly, we were raised better than this. Raised to know our intrinsic worth. Somehow that's fallen by the wayside these days. Then again, these days have been tough to say the least.

Tonight, she's talking careers. The gist is this: there was a contract, not signed for good reasons. Or, at least for good reasons when it was in the offing. You work with all of the information that you have at the time. What else can you do?

A year or so later, she's second guessing herself: What has she lost in the meantime? Was it worth it? Is it better to do without? To hope for the ideal situation, the one that may never come? Or, when it does, turn out to be a disappointment like all the rest?

Maybe the best thing is to take what you can get and work within those parameters. To compromise.

I see myself doing that very thing.

I'm making minor adjustments, but they still add up.

Perhaps it's an issue of too much change all at once. For now, I'm content to see how it all plays out.

Passive, yes. But, an option all the same.

On writing

Too good not to share:

"The writer finds himself in this more and more comical condition—of having nothing to write, of having no means of writing it, and of being forced by extreme necessity to keep writing it."


—Maurice Blanchot

words, words, words

Here's how it works:

You add up the words, string together some phrases. All in an attempt to create some coherence, a form of narrative, a why this has happened. The beginning and ending are firmly in place. But, it's the getting from one point to another that matters. We exist in our stories.

After particularly harrowing experiences, my mother used to tell me, "but, think of how you'll tell it."

Good advice, indeed.

I spoke to an editor with whom I work yesterday. She's editing a project that started out online but is now becoming a printed book. Apparently, one of the people featured within its pages decided to opt out of the latter version. The idea of appearing in print was too frightening for him, felt too permanent.

It was refreshing to realize that these things do matter, that there is still some power in the written word.

I say I do it for myself, but, really, this is why I write.

When I do so, that is.

I'm still working on the writing itself. It's something that comes with time and practice. A little like learning to drive, I suppose.

And, I remember those days all too well, perhaps because they went on far longer than was necessary (or not nearly long enough, depending on who you ask). Just me and my father in the empty parking lots of Long Island, all of them covered with a thin dust of snow. His mounting frustration as I drove through the spots, taking short cuts. The constant refrain being, "do you know how many parked cars you would've just hit?"

Yes, but there were none there.

It's hard to argue against emptiness.

So, I'd wait, still in the driver's seat, staring into the warning on the side view mirror —objects are closer than they appear —until he told me to switch seats so that he could drive back home, the car's tires making strange patterns in the powder, tracing our path back.

Fair Usage

I'm on a Bob Creeley kick.

Here's why:

The Sentence

There is that in love

which, by the syntax of,

men find women and join

their bodies to their minds

—which wants so to acquire

a continuity, a place,

a demonstration that it must

be one's own sentence.

Ten degrees fahrenheit

It's bitter. Too cold to snow, even,
and I am drinking
far more than is advisable,
yes,

but, far less than is
necessary.

It's not as bad as all that.

Adaptive Strategies

I fake it really well.

What I mean is this: I say enough to retain the appearance of openness and honesty without having to sacrifice either. Call it an adaptive strategy, if you will.

When you have things to hide, you learn what to share. It's a trade. I'll give you this much; in return, just don't ask too many questions.

In comics, there's a term called closure. It refers to the space between the panels. You read what's implied, what you'd like. It's a way of moving the story forward without having to say much.

I'm not sure what it's called in life.

Day of reckoning. Or somesuch.

1. I got my box of honeybells in the mail today. This is in no way shape or form related to matters at hand, but they're only available at this time of year and were a pleasant surprise. [Even though I knew they were coming]. For that reason alone they deserve a mention.


2. Seriously, they're that good.


3. Notwithstanding my equivocations, I went. I'm still not sure it was a good idea.


4. But, it's done.


5. Time to move forward.


6. Whatever that means.


7. At any rate, I'm attempting to be direct and address things whether I want to or not.


8. Mostly, it's the latter.


9. But, it's happening.


10. And, in some cases, I'm surprising even myself.


11. It's a good thing, to be able to surprise yourself.


12. Maybe even others.


13. I'm tired now and getting nonsensical.


14. G'night.


15. Please note: that last point was added because I didn't want to end on an unlucky number even though I'm writing this in html so cannot see the numbers.


16. Apparently, I'm becoming superstitious.


17. I've also lost count of the numbers that I should be counting but cannot see.


18. And, I'm really going to bed now.

On and on and on

It's funny, the way that when you have bad news the natural instinct is to protect the person with whom you're sharing it, to soften the blow.

Or, maybe that's just me.

In any case, I find that I've been doing that a lot these days. Putting on a brave face, smiling, making the best of it. Here's what I think: there are times when there is no "best of it", or to put it more bluntly, some things are just awful with no good reason.

This week started feeling like a bad hangover from the week before. Hell, the month before. Changes all around, and none of them feel good. So, I'm doing a lot of waiting right now. Once the dust settles, hopefully I'll have a better handle on what it all means.

And, yet, I still have the strange sensation of being lucky. Of being in the right place at the right time, career-wise at least. On the personal end of things, I'm feeling anything but.

You can't have it all, I guess.

I want simple things, really. Just stability. The ability to see beyond the immediate. Faith in the long term of things.

None of this is looking likely at this particular juncture.

So, in the meantime, I'm trying to stick to all of the other decisions I've been making. And, for now, failing miserably it seems, much to the chagrin of those affected by my choices, I'm sure.

It's a process. I'll get there. Where ever that is.

The Shit Parade Continues

My oh my, it's been quite the day here.

I'll leave it at that for now.

Same-auld lang syne

So, the new year.

I thought about posting a recap of 2008, but to be honest, I'm not sure that I really want to revisit much of it. It was a hard year, to say the least. I'm trying to look ahead now.

We'll see how that goes, I guess. Right now 2009 is looking about the same as its predecessor. But, it's early, so hopefully that'll change.

The days around the new year were, well, strange. No other word for it.

I went around as if in a fog, constantly trying to remind myself that I was seeing things as I wanted them to be, not as they were. That none of this was real. Still, the escape did me some good, at least in the moment. Which made going back all the harder. And, I'm still trying to figure out what it all means--if it means anything, that is--and where I go from here.

This much is certain: I have some difficult decisions to make in the upcoming days.

Or, more precisely, I've made some difficult decisions. That's never been the issue. It's the sticking to them. I'm not sure why knowing something is the right decision doesn't make doing it any easier. I keep telling myself that at least I should be comforted by the fact that I'm not in a state of delusion. I'm doing all the wrong things, but I'm aware. As if it really makes a difference.

I'm teetering on the edge of something, and maybe the thing to do is just give in and let go.