Coffee Rhetoric: Purging
Showing posts with label Purging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Purging. Show all posts

September 13, 2011

These and Those: Au revoir à l'Eté

Summer... I laughed, I cried, I scowled, I scratched my head... this summer wasn't too bad but it wasn't without a few bumps and snags either. I've learned a great deal about navigating the landscape known as freelance writing. Important lessons such as; how to be discerning with people who employ the services of freelancers and adapting to ever changing personalities in this current economic/job climate. Oh, I've learned some great lessons, even if I had to experience more inconveniences. There's a whole chapter of my adult life titled UNFORESEEN INCONVENIENCES, in fact. That's where I archive them all. Instead of bullet points, I sub-categorize them under expletives. 
Anyway, stumbling is always frustrating once you start gaining momentum. I always liken it to the damsel in distress in those formulaic slasher films, who trips over a tree stump while running wildly away from the murderous psychopath, while he creeps calmly and patiently towards his prey.  As I always do, I endure as best as I can- (like the last heroine standing... battered and bruised by her stalker) - and just catapult myself forward towards, flailing towards stability. 
Like the leaves change color during the fall, I've determined, I too need to change colors with the season and tweak the knobs on my personality to suit the situation. Never in a disingenuous way, of course... but in a more guarded way. I want to play the shamelessly selfish jerk sometimes and not dial it down just because some other selfish jerk scoffs. I get too excited when I've stumbled on some collaborative thing that seems as if it's too good to be true. More often than not, it is. I had the opportunity to work on some amazing projects, with some extremely driven and passionate people, so in many instances, I remained steady on my feet and carved a niche for myself and my portfolio. But others have proved to be certainly uncertain in the end. You win some, you loose some. I'm sick of singing that particular hook and song, so I'll end with c'est la vie so forth and so on. The world is a vast place with so many undiscovered nooks and corners. I won't put my personal endeavors on the back-burner to help peddle someone else's agenda, only to end up with the short end of the stick... not anymore. Some things are no longer negotiable when it comes to my own personal growth and desires. I may be an insomniac, but I dream just like everybody else. I resolve to continue at my own pace and no one else's, unless it's lucrative and a good fit. 
While I'm not exactly thrilled over what the winter weather will bring (especially after what last year's snow storms wracked) or its starkness, I'm actually glad that summer is coming to an end. Fall is my favorite season and I tend to more introspective, more creative, and thirstier for robust Spanish wines. I also enjoy dressing for the fall. Fall's color palate suit me and I love indulging my love of opaque tights and boots. 
As always... To Be Continued...  

August 18, 2011

Spilling Open: Introspection

I haven't had the opportunity to spill open on here in a while. .. not in the fashion I'm accustomed to. "Diversifying" and introducing different elements to this blog has prompted me to sort of shut my personal self off. Since I can't afford the luxury of sighing and heaving to a shrink, I figured I'd get back to the middle and do it here. I miss spilling open here. The luxury of having my own forum and not restricting how I utilize my voice is a wonderful and freeing right to have. This very late and sleepless night, I choose to project in a very self-analytical way... for I'm the best, worst, most knowledgeable judge of me, myself, and I. 
Three days ago, I turned 34. I haven't had the opportunity to let the fact that I'm in my hardcore, mid-thirties, sink in until late last night and then now. I've always been an extremely leery woman, but it seems the older I get... the grumpier, more impatient, cut and dry paranoid I become about people's intentions (not to mention the insane hormonal changes my body is experiencing). My thoughts run a mile a minute... still... and my intuition goes into overdrive... The nights I can't sleep (which are often), I'm more in form and my emotions run the gamut.
Close friendships I've had for years are still intact, easy to maintain, and I cherish them. I also curse them for being so long-distance.  I'm finding that cultivating new ones is a difficult process for me. Sort of like the three times I've tried, to no avail, to care for and nurture organic  French lavender plants.  While I enjoy meeting their acquaintance, I don't trust people upon first coming into contact with them and schmoozing is a daunting task I'd rather avoid. My expectations of folks I fancy tend to be pretty basic, but high (within reason)... so when they generate a flaky outer-crust, I have visuals of them engaging in unsavory discussions about me when I'm not around and cackling at my expense after I've opened up to them (a la the movie, Carrie... when she flashes back to her mother mockingly telling her; "They're all gonna laugh at you!"). Mind you, none of the things I'm divulging charts the madness of an Angry Black Woman who's aging and coming undone. I've gone through some schtuff  over the years with people I considered friends, who eventually had no use for me once I stopped being able to provide them with the things they needed from me or who found someone more ride-or-die to guffaw and shoot the shit with. This is nineteen years worth of angst. I'm conflicted; sometimes  assholish when it comes to shielding myself... and so it manifests in a brooding, somewhat cold package ready to cut someone's jugular (or shutdown and close up shop, depending on the situation)- when I think I'm being compromised in some way. I stay solitary for the most part and actually quite enjoy doing things alone... In fact I find it gratifying and not unlike the scene from Catherine Breillat's French film, Romance... where Marie stalks her boyfriend to a sushi restaurant... chagrined by his flagrant pleasure in being alone eating his California rolls and reading his book ... without her... to which she mentally voices over that she would've rather found him cheating with another woman. 
While I dislike being a mercurial woman sans the desire to nurture deeper relationships with the opposite sex or entertain any new applicants for friendship, I've grown comfortable in my ... aloofness (for lack of a better term), as it's easy to just exist in a world unto myself and with people I'm comfortable with and who know me. But while my opaque and indifferent nature seems comforting and offers the protection I need from being inconvenienced in some way...  it's exasperating. 
Aging, learning how to deal with other people's personality quirks juxtaposed against my own, and fumbling towards my core presents an amalgamation of different feelings: perplexed, resistant, and frustrated ...
I understand that venturing outside the comfortable confines I've built around myself is a difficult but very necessary thing I need to experience more often... Despite it being so easy to withdraw and become self-contained... In essence, I just want to be left the hell alone; yet essentially I want to be happy having reached some sort of balanced medium... but I know this isn't a healthy or realistic expectation. What can I say?... I'm a middle child who embraces her right to err and grow. Stay tuned...

February 14, 2011

These and Those: Onward March

I haven't abandoned Coffee Rhetoric in the least.  My new gig blogging for a local professional theater group, as well as trying to juggle and acclimate myself to newly elected PR and marketing responsibilities has kept me busy. Not complaining as these are things I've been steadily working towards! I'm enjoying interacting with this band of professional actors and definitely feel like I'm in my element, although trying to break myself of "day job" type protocol has been a bit challenging, so I still tread with caution and make sure to ask... but I do dig these fellow creative minds. It has also allowed me to meet and network with even more people as I try to follow-through with being a fabulously broke socialite, as the theater posts have been well received. Speaking of which, the more I navigate the trials and tribulations of socializing on my own, the more I realize that I'm simply getting too old to entertain specific personalities and people. I'm becoming more solitary... more... leery... more... observant... because it amazes me how people will sit back and expect someone to expend energy trying to placate their egos, yet won't put forth any effort trying to nurture any type of rapport or camaraderie and will go on a tirade about what someone did to slight or inconvenience them.
Over the course of the past two years or so, I've gotten to know and develop friendships with some pretty genuine and amazing people... but I've also come across a few recently who unfortunately proved to be high maintenance, self-entitled, and self-important. I'm just not willing to yield to someone particularly if it's not a mutual or beneficial effort. My derring-do allows me to dance a tango around someone who doesn't seem certain about how they want to present themselves to me. I went through a trying summer this past year and this current one... I deserve to exhale for once and relax my sphincter ... even if for a moment in this particular space and time. 
I'm just too old(er) and far too exasperated for theatrics...and am only interested in the stage work I'm currently being paid to cover. This whole culture of people who can't seem to move forward unless prompted by pretend so-called "haters" just doesn't bode well for me or my sanity, because I don't need a band of merry hecklers to catapult me to where I need to be. The whole concept of "hateration" is just distracting  and it's easy for one to feed into their own hype as they get swept up in the rapture of addressing the people they perceive to be jealous booers and hissers. I simply practice the art known as IGNORING. If maintaining a relatively as low-key as possible cipher is not for you... then I'm not ... for you, because I loathe grown-up bullies and people who do and say cruel things for no reason other than to try to conquer their own insecurities and issues. Otherwise, at this point and time...always and seemingly forever... I'm still fumbling towards ecstasy, wishing my bestest friend was closer, building up my battered resilience as well as even more character, and am in somewhat of a decent place right now and hope to see it through to fruition. 
This pretty much sums up where I am... 

February 03, 2010

Just Drive

I feel like I've reached an impasse. A never-ending maze with an elusive exit. So many decisions, so many things to nibble away at, but I'm completely deadlocked. People, places, and things never cease to perplex the hell out of me. And at times, it's overwhelming. I've had moments where I've attempted to check out, but alas, to no avail, because worries, my thoughts continue to plague me. I manage to be aloof in certain aspects of my life i.e., dating; wishy washy suitors, and an endless supply of assholes. In other aspects? Not so much; opportunities, my livelihood, my future. 
Ofttimes I think I have a dubious guardian, who loves toying with me and seeing me grapple with the worst luck! Or perhaps I'm an unwitting contestant in some twisted reality television program, where the masses are watching me wrestle and fight my way to the top. I don't know, but I continue to shadowbox. To bob, weave, sidestep... dance... twirl my way to what I feel is rightfully mine! I'm at a loss right now. I don't know how to plot my next move but I do know that I'm ready for my turn. I'm thinking. I'm pondering. I'm pissed. Intense game of mind play at work. Please do not disturb!
The fight continues. This is round 20.

January 12, 2010

Bartender!

Screw sleep. Screw my main squeeze. I'm going to burn the midnight oil again, this fine evening... as my vigil is never ending. I'm on a quest and time is limited. I need something stronger than my familiar lover, to sustain... and to escape if only for an hour or so. My brain needs a welcome reprieve from the trials and tribs of everyday stuff... My brain just refuses to turn off. When it's on, it's on, until the break of dawn. Since I can't seem to get to sleep, may as well imbibe... if anything, I may fall into a restful slumber. That is all.

Witching Hour

I live basement level. Last night, during the wee hours, the pipes put up quite a ruckus. Banging! Clanging, Thrashing, ... the sounds were akin to someone hitting a metal baseball bat against a steel pole, with brute force over and over and over again. Pause. Then over again. Or perhaps something was trying to force its way through the heating vents above my bed? Was ceiling cat trying to make a nervous breakthrough? I'm not sure. Either way, I woke up in fits and starts. My heart leaped with every loud clang. I was already restless and edgy. I'm a chronic insomniac, and so was hungry for any semblance of sleep I could get. I'd suddenly drift off, and then CLANG! My heart thumped against my chest and my head started to throb. My mind started running its ever increasing lap. I tried in vain to lull and soothe my thoughts... to no avail. A bit paranoid and somewhat leery, I didn't get to sleep until 4AM. I felt like Catherine Deneuve, in Roman Polanski's psychological thriller, 'Repulsion,' minus the androphobia and sexual repression.
This late-late evening, I am still restless. While the malevolent spirit that lives in the vents is quietly lying in wait. Anxiety won't offer me any reprieve. I'm worried about many things. I'm antsy. I'm apprehensive. I'm resolute. I'm petulant. My eyelids are heavy and my retinas burn with fatigue. I want to cry frustrated tears, but because I'm resolute, I can't manage to squeeze any out... So, I'm keeping a vigil at this late hour ...

January 06, 2010

I Wish You ILL

It's official--
The mechanics of dating and its games has made me cynical. I never thought I would say the dreaded 'C' word out loud, but I am Coffey So Finicky, evermore. The advice books by men geared toward single women (ahem, Steve Harvey) with dubious track records of their own. The bullshit, the nonsense, the flakiness, the obvious lying and disingenuous behavior... It seems to know no bounds. If I hear one more man whine about how his last experience... or how his best friend's friend got hustled by a golddigger, who needed $50,000 transferred to her account, before she peeled of her panties- as a way to justify is jerkery, I may need to sharpen my nails into angular points, and claw my(or his) eyes out. I've no sympathy for men who get "took" as it were. Because many of you have laid the groundwork for and choreographed this sort of shady adagio dance, between the sexes. Don't project your insecurities and obvious shallowness-gone-wrong, onto other women with good intentions.
Perhaps some women of my ilk are destined to stay single and live a life riddled with carpal tunnel syndrome and AA batteries. But sometimes, I think that alternative is well worth it... if only to side-step the nonsense and fuckery associated with dating... and all the "messy unnecessaries" it entails. And anyway, I'll always still have great hair and skin. That is all.

November 08, 2009

These and Those

... This, that, and the other. Much of the same. In the meantime, I'm researching how to create my own opportunity, implementing the things I truly enjoy doing, while these tired feet continue to pound the pavement. Yes, perhaps I'm tardy for this party, but sometimes it takes the rug being snatched out from under you for an extended period, to light a fire under one's ass. It's an ample ass... so I have a lot of brainstorming to do.

October 11, 2009

Flailing

I've been trying to fight this cold, pressure in my chest for the past few days. Amazing what a number stress can do to one's body. One moment of vulnerability and sick just grips your body like a wendigo does a desperate and hungry soul. Add stress and the insatiable need to excel, to prosper, to just get a break for once and no amount of Vitamin C or medicine can break its hold. The chest pressure is the most distressing. As much as I'd like to relax, the pressure (no pun intended... actually, pun intended) is on.... things are starting to mount, those who collect are staring to circle, and while my resolve isn't broken it is cracked. The hunt is exhausting for I feel like I've exhausted most if not every resource available to me. I inhale... I wheeze like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. I exhale... more demonic sounding wind. I need to exorcise this lame luck! I'm working hard to exorcise this lame stroke of luck!
One bright spot is that I do have an interview this Wednesday, at a non-profit that does great work to benefit homeless women and their families. While it is part-time, I am hoping I make a good enough impression so that I get an in. As much as I hate to speak such things out loud, because I'm slightly superstitious and believe doing so before a result has come to pass, will result in a unfavorable outcome... perhaps spilling it open with mild splash ... and letting in marinate into the universe will ... *I don't know* ...

August 19, 2009

Off-Balance

"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what wouldn't be it would. You see?" Italic
-Alice, Alice in Wonderland
I don't know the minute intricacies of the term 'qui' (better recognized as 'chi'), but my research has indicated that it basically translates to "energy flow," and is compared to western notions of energeia or elan vital. Further research and etomology indicates that energeia was a technical term used widely by Aristotle and may or may not be the source for the word energy... or the term 'being at work', activity or perhaps actuality. Elan vital, on the other hand (coined by French philosopher Henri Bergson in his book 'Creative Evolution'), more or less translates to "vital force"... electricity, life, essence being breathed into something or other...
What does all of this philosophical rambling mean? In plain language, it's me saying my chi... my energy... my life force is off balance. Suddenly, despite my optimism (and struggle to remain so), is on shaky ground. I have these intermittent moments (exacerbated by PMS) where I'm gripped by anxiety: My stomach hurts and is all gurgly, I may get a headache, my sinuses become plugged giving way to a sore throat, a zit or two, cumulus clouds reign for the briefest of moments and I start brooding. My mood becomes dark. I become leery, introspective, somewhat misanthropic, because then I start mulling things over. People aren't who or what they seem. ... Gripping, I feel as if I'm hanging on by the tips of my fingers. And I'm just... solitary. ... Alone by choice and because sometimes I have no choice. I just am. Some folks don't get, or want to understand just... stuff. Instead they want to dictate, speculate, and worse yet... patronize, forgetting completely what it's like to struggle over a hurdle or to have off days... or to just feel mentally drained. Suddenly I don't have the right to feel worried about the immediate future and my livelihood. So I sort of withdraw and become self-contained.
The hunt is an exasperating process. The climate we're in makes it seem like I'm appealing to a panderer sometimes. And it's disconcerting. Either way, I'm still hanging on. by.the.tips.of.my.fingers. My pride and ego are like an undulating tidal wave, but I'm not broken... just bruised a little.
*Image: Paul Gaugin's The Brooding Woman, 1891

June 28, 2009

Disturbia

As difficult as it is to admit this out in the open, some days I feel... lonely. I feel alone. I honestly have never admitted that out loud... verbally or in writing. Here's where the revelation becomes slightly more provocative... I feel lonely because I don't trust very many people, and I'm an extremely leery and guarded woman. Certain circumstances as of late, have caused me to become even more self-contained. Nothing worse than opening yourself up to folks... whether within the context of dating or budding friendships... only to have your privacy or your trust compromised.
I honestly don't know that I feel that bad about being a loner, however. This post is definitely no lament. I mean, I have my moments where I think I need to be more trusting, more open, but then I shake it off and say "eff it."
This is something I grapple with daily, I did as a teenager and I still do at the age of 31. Perhaps this is why I'm still single, while both of my sisters (one older, one younger) are married. I've never had a long term relationship or sustained one long enough to want to introduce him to my family or friends. I must say, my wariness isn't unwarranted. Men I've dated have proved to be, wishy-washy, self-entitled jerks. I'm not one to settle just for the sake of having warm man parts to keep my mattress comfy. Friends? I have very few. I keep the circle tight. I've networked and tried to reach out to no end, only to come up against shady types, who aren't that trustworthy afterall, and will flip quicker than a mafia rat. One friendship that continues to sustain is my dearest and bestest... Cat. Who I've mentioned numerous times on this blog. Thank heaven for her. I guess my point is, today is one of those days where I'm feeling, well, bored and lonely and felt the need to spill open, out loud about it. While I'm not particularly saddened or regretful for being as leery as I am, it can become exasperating at times ...

February 07, 2009

Splat

About a week or so ago, my queen-sized inflatable bed lost its juice and deflated. Much to my chagrin, I woke up on the floor. I literally had to rooll out of bed... or the remnants of what once was. Scrambling up and out proved irritating. I felt like I was in one of those inflatable bounce houses that kids frolic in at indoor playgrounds. Needless to say, I've been sleeping on a palate on the living room floor. This is the reality of my sleeping situation. Which isn't bad, but I didn't relish seeing a spider scramble from under my comforter when I woke up. Not a good look. Not the type of living creature I want to share my bed with. Fret not me, for pretty soon (hopefully within the next two weeks) I'll have a real king-sized bed to wallow around in, and a couch to boot! At no cost. It pays to have friends who need to part with items they no longer need.
Friday was a fun giggle fest. Despite not being as settled in as I'd like, I hosted a small, intimate gathering. Lots of drinking, trash talking, and conversation ensued... followed by a viewing of Pimps Up, Ho's Down: The Director's Cut. Despite how many may feel about this in-your-face documentary, there are a lot of pearls of wizdumb to live by. Women with low self-esteem beware. Economic times are tough, and while the Pimps Up... documentary was made approximately 10 years ago... they prey on the downtrodden and the disenchanted. Whatever you do, don't eyeball a pimp wrecklessly, lest you want to give up 10-15% of your earnings. 'Nuff said. The DVD skipped a few times, and the fact that I've watched it on the dozens was called to the table. I cannot tell a lie. It's one of my favorite discs to pull out. King James and Scorpio are pimps with hearts of pure gold.
On a completely different and unrelated note, despite what that disgusting and perplexed looking rodent they pull out of the ground dictates, I sense that Spring is on the horizon. I always feel anxious and wait with bated breath for Spring to arrive. I don't know what it is about this particular season, but I look forward to it every year. This winter has proved to be long, depressing, bitterly cold and unrelenting. I am literally begging for a reprieve. I want to put my little snowman away for the year. As far as dating prospects go, there aren't very many here. I've come to that sad conclusion. One may have to outsource for a man who acts like he has some sense and respectability. I'm leery and disappointed anytime anyone approaches me. I'm guessing the corny pick-up line with never die the slow death I'd like it to. The total lack of respect and originality makes me feel like I need to walk around strapped! Needless to say, the season in this cold city has been dry in that respect, but then again, I've been extremely preoccupied and uninterested. I'd be a liar if I said this didn't bother me to some degree.

January 24, 2009

These and Those

Another boring and quiet Saturday. Actually, I'm starting to develop an affinity for quiet, boring days. It gives me time to think about a myriad of things, people, developments, etc. It also seems as if I'm conserving my energy for Spring and Summer.
In any event, being able to mull things over has led me to the following conclusions: Some people are naturally miserable and bitter. There needn't be any justification or circumstance for or behind it. Until recently, I don't think I've ever met a person who is just rotten to the core for no apparent reason. Most of the assholes I've come across have been hurt in the past in some way and use it as a defense mechanism, or have had rocky upbringings and dysfunctional relationships with one or both of their parents. Never were they just simply allergic to being personable and genuine. I'm not a cheerleader nor would I classify myself as one of those "nice people." I'm simply me. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I am genuine, and while I'm not "nice," I'm personable enough that people actually want to engage me in conversation or hang out with me. While I don't have a huge crew that I pal around with (I prefer small, intimate groups or solo), I think it's safe to say that I'm not a social pariah.
It's absolutely fascinating (and somewhat amusing) watching a person struggle to be polite to others. I've never seen or experienced anything like it. An adult person conflicted over whether or not they want to continue on with being a small-minded, uneducated jerk versus acting like someone with sense and social etiquette. I'd be willing to wager that they wake up in the morning jumping up out of the wrong-right side of the bed, rush to the bathroom, splash tepid water on their face, and then look in the mirror at their reflection thinking aloud: "Now yesterday I was a first-class, Grade A cunt! Good job me! How on EARTH am I going to top THAT today though?!" Insanity.
I've also come to the conclusion that debating a point with someone who is set in their particular way of doing things and have already determined they're right in their assessment, and will talk all over you to drive and park their point on home is useless. Better to say, "but, but, but..." shrug, and let them get the last word, because the jockeying back and forth becomes a fruitless effort on your part. Find the comedy in their smug, know-it-allishness- because you know you're open minded and knowledgeable enough to bow out gracefully. Why exert energy on someone who hasn't a clue, even though they think they do? Not worth it.
Lastly, I think Bobbi Brown's Limited Edition Brights Eye Palette is simply beautiful, but I can't justify spending $70.00 on eye makeup when I can go to the drugstore and buy Loreal H.I.P. eye colors for just a fraction of that cost. It's better to stare at Bobbi's palette longingly and wonder, "What if I COULD afford it though, and wasn't in the throes of financial trials and tribulations?" That there is grocery money. Spending it on eye makeup would be cause to get dildo-slapped. I also want a block of this for my natural hair. More attainable than the $70.00 eye palette, non? Oh, and shout out to the brotha who tapped me on the shoulder, beckoned me to unplug my earphones in the middle of a great song, and who opined, "You look like a VERY elegant Black woman. I gotta learn more about you." and sauntered away. He probably will never learn more about me, but thanks for the compliment anyway, oh, and two middle fingers to my older sister who commented, "Oh, was he wearing glasses? Ohhhh, I know, he must've been retarded." When I relayed the story to her last night ...
That's it.
**Updated to include: How about that Inauguration Speech? Very thrilling. It'll be interesting to watch how our new President tackles the mess at hand. Hopefully with fervent determination and grace. I for one am proud that a person of color has galvanized a nation to embrace change (kicking and screaming in some instances), allowing him to break the class ceiling and hold the highest politial office. One thing to inspire hope... another thing to carry through and see that message to fruition. At this juncture, I'm over the "We have a Black President" mania. I'm more interested in what our new President, who just happens to be Black, will do to help mend the damage done to our country. He has an arduous task ahead of him and seems up to the challenge. Many of us are still caught up in the rapture of change, but I think it's time to move past Obama's skin color and focus on his politics and what he has in store for us. **

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 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. ;-( ...

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 18, 2007

Prisoner of Words

Regression

I'm regressing. And I don't like it one bit. I'm struggling not to go back to black. Not to become morose again. The impending gloom is hovering like a dark cloud and I'm tempted to just stand there and wait for the downpour and risk getting soaked, because I'm tired. The fatigue feels like a heavy weight on my chest and it's constricting my air flow. Literally and figuratively, I cannot breathe. I inhale and then I exhale and I can't seem to catch my second breath... because of the pressure on my chest. Destructive thoughts are starting to dance around tauntingly in my mind... causing my soul to scream in frustration. I'm hard on myself. Am a perfectionist of sorts and when I don't triumph in some way, shape, or form... I become self contained. ... And it's maddening. It's masochistic, because I take solace in being withdrawn... Ugh and I'm effing sick of being sullen! I do realize that people live lives that're far worse than my own... but narcissism and self absorbency has dictated that I am entitled to feel this way! I have a right to be a sullen, sour woman... but I HATE it!
I've managed to smile through it and roll with the punches. Smile graciously when advised "Oh, you'll get through it. Things will work out." When I really wanna shout, "Fuck off! Easy for YOU to say, you aren't in my shoes!" Even though I know friends and family are just trying to stay optimistic for me. And are worried about me. Uncompromising situations usually roll off my back like hot butter on a biscuit, but I get overwhelmed. I got overwheeeelmed. A couple of days ago upon returning home from the store... I put my bags down in my small (soon to be history) kitchenette. I didn't even remove my coat. I started sobbing from the impact of the onslaught. I smeared meticulously applied black eye-liner and mascara. The tears fell down my face, rested on my lips and mixed with my brownie cream lip gloss. I clenched my fists and avoided another one of those angry moments where I smash things in a blind rage... and then realize what I've done after coming out of that haze of anger... regretting ruining my stuff. I sat down. Money, men, wish washy personalities, not knowing, knowing, intuition, paranoia, the struggle ... sometimes it's too much. I cursed under my breath. And then I picked up the cell phone and called my sister...

November 13, 2007

Rat Race

I can openly say (now) that I've been pounding the pavement for the past several months, job interviewing, hunting, fielding phone calls, mailing out resumes, receiving notices confirming receipt of my resume, wash, rinse and then repeat. Needless to say, the whole process is frustrating. It's the pits! Particularly when you're so close. Sooooo very close to being hired only to be told "Ohhh.... well you're too overqualified" or "We can't move forward with an offer for another two months. Sorry for putting you through SEVERAL INTERVIEWS AND PHONING EVERY LAST ONE OF REFERENCES, AND DOING THAT BACKGROUND CHECK ON YOU!! Please bear with us..." Notwithstanding the fact that you've answered all of their redundant (and sometimes condescending and ridiculous) questions, and have been more than accommodating in providing them with everything they need to move forward with an offer, including making yourself available at a moment's notice for another interview. I feel like a salesperson, going door to door selling your wares. One or two people invite you in. Let you sit down and go through your whole spiel. They nod. They ask several questions. They seem interested. They breathe in as if they're about to say, "I'm sold! I'll take two!" Only to change their minds and say, "Ohhh. I'm sorry. I'm not interested." Argh! Frustrating. Sometimes I wonder if those doing the interviewing, remember what it was like when they were practically groveling for their jobs... I need a drink.
The movie clip is from the film, Fear and Trembling, based on Amelie Nothomb's novel Stupeur et Tremblement.