Coffee Rhetoric: Grey Gardens
Showing posts with label Grey Gardens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grey Gardens. Show all posts

March 15, 2008

The Gods Must Be Crazy

Why must the universe remind me, once a month, for one long excruciating and uncomfortable week, that I'm a woman. More importantly, why must I suffer for that very reason???
I planned on waking up early, this fine Saturday morn, to attend a St. Patty's Day brunch (complete with mimosas) at my workplace, but the powers that be had other plans for me... and it involves throbbing delicates, bloat, sore lower back, and a cramping lower tummy. This is what my weekend will end up being like (see below)... hope yours is just as pleasant. Men you just don't wanna know. You've no idea at'all. That's it...

February 15, 2008

... Didn't You Know This?

That wretched, waste of time and money holiday... the one that starts with a V and shall remain nameless, is finally done and over with.
I always find it amusing when couples wait once a year to do something thoughtful and sexy for one another, before settling back into the routine of being jerks to one another. I smirked on the inside as a co-worker discussed how mean and cold his siggy other acted toward him, prompting him to consider calling it quits over the past weekend, before she called apologizing... all sweetness and light. Bitch knew that V day was on the horizon, that's why. Word on the street is that he got her an assortment of lovely gifts anyway.
I rolled my eyes as I listened to the frazzled bartender at restaurant Hot Tomatoes, sitting in wait for my lunch as he complained about the dozens of reservations overwhelming the restaurant for the evening... "people don't realize, we'll be extremely busy and they expect to be in and out in like 45 minutes!"
"Call me jaded, but I don't understand what all the fuss is about..." I opined. "It'll be done and over with in hours, and couples will go back to clawing at one another's throats on the 15th. But perhaps I'm just saying this, because I'm single..."
"Yeah..." he agreed before throwing up his hands at the ringing phone and rushing to answer it... Another hopeful patron probably wanting a reservation, no doubt. And then there was that attractive, young, sharply dressed and perfumed Hispanic couple I passed on the street later on that evening, after clocking off from work... arguing en route to Hot Tomatoes, as girlfriend struggled in her pointy-toed stiletto boots, to keep up with her agitated boyfriend, as they stomped to their destination over melting snow piles.
Ask me how deep my scowl furrowed, as I shook my head at the tacky assortment of plastic hearts, pitiful looking single red roses individually wrapped and contained behind cellophane plastic (for a whopping 5 to 10 bucks a pop), white teddy bears holding red heart pillows with the words "I Love You" painted on the front, and other stupid bric-a-brac vendors were hoping to hawk to desperate last minute shoppers, who didn't have time to order that delicious (and pricey) flower shaped cantaloupe bouquet from Edible Arrangements.
The most infuriating moment, however? ... Walking into CVS Pharmacy and discovering every last bit of fucking chocolate... every box of Hershey's Pot O' Gold (on sale for $3.88) sold the eff out!! The inconsiderate vultures. I wanted to push the shelves over in blind, white hot fury, but instead purchased a pack of cellulose facial sponges, black liquid eyeliner, and gum and stormed out into the damp, dark winter malaise, in a moue of glossy indignation and disgust.
The bitter ramblings of a young woman, never having been in love and cynical about the complex maze of dating? Perhaps. Or maybe just realistic and an staunch advocate of consistency in genuine behavior and emotions, just 'cause... not prompted by some corny holiday, that dictates you should go broke buying someone's affections once a year.
This morning, as I made my way to the entrance of my place of employment I came upon a sad looking, red, heart shaped mylar balloon, with Betty Boop on the front... flirty and dripping hearts lying on the ground. Dejected on February 15th. The last remnants of the previous day already forgotten and only remembered to begin with, due to some overwhelming sense of obligation. Half deflated and out of place in the backdrop of a crisp, bright, wintry-white morning as people hurried around it, rushing about in long, black winter coats... faces grim as they clutched their oversized Starbucks cups as if the 14th never happened. Clutching my own dark roast, I stopped and looked down at it. I shook my head. That pretty much summed up V-day. I stepped on Betty's face with my favorite pair of calf boots and rushed in to start my day.
P.S. to the man whose phone number I accepted a couple of weeks ago, because I thought you were genuine... TEXTING a response to someone's voicemail message, after "hoping" that they'd call: "Thanks! Talk to U Later" and then following up by calling at odd hours: 7:30 AM as you're getting in your car (I heard you unlocking your door), calling and then hanging up sans leaving a voicemail, texting "Are U up??" @ 12:20AM on a week day are NOT the proper ways to woo someone for a date and is rather dubious. Been there, done that... and the shirt I have to prove it? I use it to clean around the house. Strikes one, two, AND three. You're out!

January 23, 2008

No Love

Amidst all the chaos, the trials and tribs, my fall and subsequent rise. In the crux of my moving, job hunting, cursing my bad luck, finally starting and now settling into a new job, apartment hunting, contemplation, absorption, ups and downs... In the midst of this egomaniacal reverie... I haven't, not once, entertained the thought of dating, men, signiffy others, sex or lack thereof, or the joys of digital manipulation, even. It has been awhile since I've lamented over my solitary confinement. I haven't thought about ghosts from my pasts at all. They've all become nameless, insubstantial phantoms. I don't wonder what they're doing, I don't care where they are. I don't remember how they look, smell, how much they got on my nerves. What they did to make me sigh with resignation. No dating... away with the online dating profiles, peer to peer contact, considering dating prospects, making eye contact and averting my gaze right before something clicks... all of these things have become my current reality. Because I haven't thought about it until this second, none of it has really mattered or made me feel any self-loathing and self-pity. Oh, I've become quite used to my aloof and cold nature and have settled into my chilly exterior (my interior is quite warm). I honestly don't know what to make of it really. I'm neither pleased with myself or unhappy about how self contained and focused I am. Once things have quieted down, only time will tell what the dating future will conjure up. What creatures will come slithering out from under their moist rock, which normal, sane, handsome gentlemen will take me off guard in spite of myself or what embarrassing yet salacious fodder I'll feed to the masses (or perhaps keep to myself). ... Only time will tell. I am ready for another adventure abroad... this much I know is true.

January 05, 2008

La Guerre des Soeurs

When you consider who your adversaries are, depending on your situation, none cut like a sharp ginzu knife or are as compelling than antagonists from your immediate family. Situations brew, they fester, they percolate, and seethe. When they finally reach a fever pitch and culminate in an all out war of words purged and wild gesticulating... it makes for a nasty and uncomfortable situation. It also makes for some interesting revelations and necessary moments of clarity.
How does one navigate the complexities of family ties when you are disliked by a sibling... have known for years a close family member holds disdain for you and hate your guts, despite strained efforts to play "nice," or are (yourself) harboring distrust, mutual disdain, and dislike for a sib? The answer is, despite what you know is right... at a certain point in your life you don't anymore. You stop zig zagging. You end your journey, cut your unfortunate losses and reluctantly move on, because none of us have the luxury of choosing what type of family members we want or how we want them to relate to us. While some people have a great rapport with their siblings, others have strained ones that eventually crack and then break from the weight. All that's left to do is to remove yourself as far away from the person and situation as soon as time and resources will allow. And that's exactly what I'm aggressively attempting to do. A sad state of affairs, but considering the rough year I've had and my knack for catching a mean case of bad luck, I've grown numb to anything else negative that has happened or may potentially happen in my life. I feel and emote for those few seconds and then I glaze over... hot water turning into ice. Stoicism has become a code of conduct I've grown adept at. It's my armor and shield, if you will.
I never understood the concept of estrangement, of people separating themselves from immediate family members... moms, dads, brothers, sisters... until today. The next couple of months will probably be awkward, but c'est la vie. Such are the breaks for those who are "first born second." The world doesn't end. It may choke, sputter, and gasp for breath... but it doesn't end. ;-( ...

January 02, 2008

Brrr...

I'd type something profound and witty, but my finger tips are still thawing out. I also need confirmation that my nipples still exist and I've yet to feel any sensation. So I'm still waiting. Gives new meaning to it being "colder than a witch's tit." My brain was also on freeze because apparently, I walked right by my mother in the supermarket this evening and failed to notice her presence or her gesticulating in vain, to get my attention. This brisk, bitingly cold winter has also prompted my fat ass to swell even rounder and bigger. To massive proportions (as if that were possible). I purchased a pair of jeans today and almost broke a couple of ribs trying to fasten them. Hearty soups, breads, and desserts have a hold over me, apparently. I wont beat myself up over it though. I refuse to go there. Nope. I wont do it. Fughettaboutit! But I may do a black coffee detox (don't ask, I came up with this method all on me own. It's a very complex system and I'm unwilling to relay the details). My current wardrobe still feels familiar. It's the new clothes that are inhospitable, unforgiving, and complete strangers to me. Perhaps it's because the denim is "Rigid"? Excuses, excuses. I'd rather just suck it up, and buy the next size up than berate myself. They're great looking jeans. The weight fluctuates. I wish it and bloat weren't part of my reality, but they are. Nothing left to do other than pop another caramel, make some tea, and psyche myself up for venturing out in the even colder 17 degree weather tomorrow! Oh yes, and the dry cleaners effed up my warmest, Kenneth Cole goose down coat, so I have to add that to my list of random, insignificant, yet significant things to purchase anew. January, February, Maarch, April... pardon me... I'm counting down til Spring... Maay...

December 13, 2007

First Born Second

"I was born as a second child. All I got was hand-me-downs. All that is what was left..." Bilal, from his debut album, First Born Second
Psychiatrist and theorist, Alfred Adler has surmised that the order in which one is born, influences their personality. That order can have leave an indelible impression on that sibling's quality of life and the way in which they cope with life's trials and tribulations. Of course many psychologists of yore and today dispute Adler's suggestions on birth order. I was born right smack-dab in the midst of the madness. A middle child. Introspective, mercurial, passionate, self absorbed, creative, sensitive, aloof, stoic, an aversion to being told what to do by my mother sometimes/but clinging and crying to her other times (preferably in the absence of my sisters). I've been spending a lot more time with my immediate family amidst my transitional phase, and I've never been more aware of where I fall in the triad my mother has created, as I have been recently. Middle Child Syndrome, it has been christened. Regardless of how people cope with being the second born, the syndrome feels very real to many of us middlers. A feeling of being somewhat solitary and misunderstood. Alone in my philosophies and ways of thinking and living, a sense of feeling undermined or disputed, fighting to be heard over competing voices, wanting to be left alone, creative, artistic, caught between a rock and a hard place, sometimes wanting to slip under the radar, a bit eccentric and self contained ... While theories abound on Middle Child Syndrome and we all cope differently with being wedged in between two siblings, it is a rather interesting and complex situation to deal with sometimes. I suddenly feel compelled to delve deeper into the order of such things in order to figure out some things about myself. I suddenly feel a deep empathy for Jan Brady.

December 01, 2007

Please Standby

I'm packing and getting ready to make a move... Restructuring and getting back on track is an overwhelming feat. Packing however, sucks more than anything that has ever sucked. I got rid of some shoes and still have too many pairs to contend with, so for the time being, they're all strewn in the middle of my floor. I've just been stepping over them. Which is a pain in the middle of the night when trying to feel my way in the dark, to the bathroom. Hopefully the very near future will bring welcome changes, a bigger apartment, and new opportunities, which I'll tackle with gusto! In the meantime, I've been killing myself packing and pondering what comes with, what's beat and needs to be trashed, and what goes into storage. I've also been looking into getting a post office box... which would make accepting gifts (hint-hint) a lot easier from kind readers. In any event, perhaps if I stop taking Bacaradi rum breaks, I could accomplish this feat quicker. Anyway, also enjoy this cool picture I took while riding down the street in West Hartford, CT. New England is a beaut, during the fall.

November 20, 2007

The Cure

I'm OMing the pressure off of my chest... Whenever I breathe in, it's reminiscent of weight lifting a heavy barbell and the back of my shoulder pops with each deep breath I pull in.

November 05, 2007

Solitaire

Sometimes, when I'm in a room full of people I still feel like a lone ranger. A mirage of bodies moving, side-stepping, dancing around me, yet somehow I never manage to stitch myself into the fabric of what's going on. There, but not completely there. Standing outside the perimeter, weaving in and out of the crowd like an apparition. Selfish, quiet, and introverted as I study snatches of conversations and examine people's body language. Trying to gauge what the moods are. It's almost as if I'm existing in an alternate world while smack dab in the middle of reality. Escapism in its most narcissistic form. I engage in small talk sparingly. At times stingy with what I offer up. Stoic, aloof, embittered because I can't get into the groove like everyone else. Afraid that any vain attempt would be fruitless and seem disingenuous and forced. So I exist in that moment, in a purple haze... as if under the influence of some potent drug or libation. Dazed. And content with my restraint. Fine with the fact that I am out of my element. As much as I tout the benefits of my solitude, I curse it as well. Because I've grown comfortable in it. Too comfortable.

May 15, 2007

Fureur

Last night, I re-visited the Japanese horror flick, Ju-on: The Grudge and then followed it up with the American rendition, The Grudge. The original version felt as chilling, as if I were watching it for the first time. I still felt goosebumps as I watched the haunting and disturbing images float across the screen. The American remake was slightly less compelling, but wasn't short on providing chills. The Grudge is about a supernatural curse that is born after a wife and her young son die violently, in the grip of rage and sorrow (at the hands of the woman's husband, in a fit of jealous anger). Anybody who comes into contact with the curse, of course dies, causing it to grow and constantly repeat itself in a deadly chain of events... bouncing from person to person and feeding off of them. After watching both films, I began pondering the power and emotion behind passion and rage. I'm a passionate and tempestuous woman. When I was young and precocious, I had a difficult time harnessing those emotions and my anger. As annoying and selfish as preteens and teenagers can be today, I commiserate with them to a certain degree. Their young brains are still developing. That coupled with raging hormones and being caught in the throes of adolescence as well as being on the cusp of adulthood. Sheer insanity. Once we blossom into adults however, we are responsible for our behavior and how we choose to channel passion and rage. Some of us harbor it more than others. Our brains may be developed and common sense should no longer be a foreign concept at this point in our lives, but it still requires a great deal of restraint and grappling, to harness such intense emotions. I know I grapple with it, anyway. There are some with laid back, tranquil personalities sans incident and despite whatever turmoil and anger they may be feeling. What can I say, I'm intense. I boil, I seethe, my insides churn (even if I don't project that emotion externally). Kissing, eating, sex, anger, contentment... all of these wonderful and ugly things, I experience with an unbridled intensity. Passion and rage work in tandem as far, as I'm concerned. And are just as strong if not stronger, than the act of loving. Pondering and realizing all of this, I've come to the conclusion that perhaps this is why I may seem aloof to strangers or to those who haven't gotten to know me completely. What is in fact me showing restraint and being miserly, by not laying my emotions bare, for someone who is unfamiliar to me, to cash in on, and not having earned any of it. That's me, not wasting that passionate anger on the petty and insignificant. This applies to the brief relationships I've had too ... the confusion some of these men have felt, when I didn't chase them down or beg them for their time... me simply opting to move on and not look back. I'm personable and cordial enough and I open myself up, juuuust wide enough. I don't feel compelled to expend that type of energy on someone, with abandon and without thought. That passion, I'd rather save for something (or someone?) exciting and relevant, and channel it in productive ways, and have it paid back to me ten fold. I'd hate to waste passion and rage on the undeserving, only to have the results end up a tortured entity that continues on in a familiar pattern of anger and sorrow.

November 09, 2006

Peanut Butter and Peppermint Tea

Honey I'm a roller concrete clover ... Arm wrestle your mother Simply over ... over you But beware my heart can be a pin A sharp silver dragonfly Trying to get my mansions green After I've Grey Gardens seen In between tonight and my tomorrows ... where have you been In between tonight I know...don't you fight Honey can you hear me In between been dragging a dragonfly Trying to get my mansions green After I've Grey Gardens seen Honey won't you hold me tight Get me through Grey Gardens tonight Trying to get my mansions green After I've Grey Gardens seen Honey won't you hold me tight Get me through Grey Gardens tonight -Rufus Wainwright, Grey Gardens (album: Poses)
It's official... I'm slowly becoming a recluse and this does not bode well with me. I would not classify myself as a social butterfly per se, but during days off from work, I usually like to busy myself with random errands, visit my family, or catch up with friends working at a nearby museum... something. Today was beautiful outside and I simply woke up this morning, bemoaning a stomach ailment I've had since yesterday, that may very well have been more psychological than physical. Either way, I didn't feel well... the unseasonably mild and breezy Fall air would've, no doubt, been good for me. Initially, I lazed around for a while composing emails and chatting with friends on Yahoo! Messenger. I glanced at a compelling novel I've been reading, didn't even touch it. Instead, I ensconced myself in a chair and usurped even more valuable free time, reading about the latest developments of the Britney Spears/Fed-ex divorce saga, unfolding on the celebrity gossip blogs and I snickered at a recent video where a disdainful looking Lindsay Lohan, exclaimed to the paparrazzi, that Paris Hilton was "a cunt." I, essentially, got wrapped up in nothing, when I could've been indulging in something, far more productive. I came to this conclusion, but not before deciding to wipe at a nonexistent smudge... repeatedly... on the very same glass table top I'm logging this entry from (and smudging, yet again, with my bare forearms). I sprayed a rather menacing looking spider with dust spray to no avail, he, she, it, simply scurried away. I stood up t0 put the kettle on for peppermint tea, and then I sat down. I peeked out the window, I paced, and I sat down again. I got up long enough to turn off the kettle, I sat down again and I sipped my tea... I went to the kitchen once more and ate half teaspoons full of Skippy's Roasted Honey Nut flavored peanut butter (my only A.M. sustenace). Enough was enough. Looking down at my well licked spoon and scowling, visions of the documenatry Grey Gardens, danced in my head. While I'm far from becoming the next Edith Bouvier Beale- (prancing around in squalor, living in a crumbling mansion, singing show tunes, clad in a fur coat and head scarf)- I was slowly becoming self-contained and somewhat mysanthropic. Sans money or avec money, I needed to get out outside, if only to get some fresh air and merge with the general populace, most of whom were outside enjoying the beautiful weather. As I pondered my self-imposed solitary confinement, I decided that I didn't want to become one of those sorts of people, who falls prey to social ineptness... trapped and in the throes of some sudden psychoses. The peanut butter and my preoccupation with the invisible smudge on the table, dictated that I needed out, it wasn't a matter of whether I wanted out or not. So I took a bath, self-administered a pedicure, got dressed, and ventured outside... breathing in the mild fall breeze... simply going for coffee, people watching, and browsing. Suddenly my nasal passages popped and cleared (I was oblivious to the fact that they were clogged) and my mysterious stomach ailment subsided. Also, perhaps it's time for me to plan a small gathering of some sort... just so I don't grow apart from the rest of society. It just requires one foot in front of the other. Not a difficult or strenuous feat, but a necessary one.