Saturday, January 17, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Appointments Made (Cleanup Time)
Pick-up time for new key--check.
Pick-up/drop-off time for 3-day rental car--check.
Brother helping me move little crap--check.
Movers--check.
Cable company--NOT YET.
Clean-up time/hand over keys from old place--check.
I'm stressed out about the upcoming move, but as I continue to make arrangements (and take home moving boxes from work and my corner beer store), I am relaxing slightly, knowing there are various "Systems" in place (e.g., solidifying a time for picking up my new key is part of a "System"). The more appointments I solidify, the more I relax and start to actually enjoy the PROSPECT of my new, much bigger place in a new, much better location for me.
Only 11 days left of my 3-hour-a-day bus travails. For the past few days, during the last hour of my bus trip, I've been projecting myself into a future a month from now: "I'm not on this bus right now. I got off this bus an hour ago." Similar to the mind-trip I've tried to engage myself in for the past 4 years in this 380-sq-ft apartment: "Pretend like this is just a really cool bedroom" or "Pretend like this is just a really cool treehouse."
It wasn't ever a BAD place; it was just way too small for someone at my point in life.
Pick-up/drop-off time for 3-day rental car--check.
Brother helping me move little crap--check.
Movers--check.
Cable company--NOT YET.
Clean-up time/hand over keys from old place--check.
I'm stressed out about the upcoming move, but as I continue to make arrangements (and take home moving boxes from work and my corner beer store), I am relaxing slightly, knowing there are various "Systems" in place (e.g., solidifying a time for picking up my new key is part of a "System"). The more appointments I solidify, the more I relax and start to actually enjoy the PROSPECT of my new, much bigger place in a new, much better location for me.
Only 11 days left of my 3-hour-a-day bus travails. For the past few days, during the last hour of my bus trip, I've been projecting myself into a future a month from now: "I'm not on this bus right now. I got off this bus an hour ago." Similar to the mind-trip I've tried to engage myself in for the past 4 years in this 380-sq-ft apartment: "Pretend like this is just a really cool bedroom" or "Pretend like this is just a really cool treehouse."
It wasn't ever a BAD place; it was just way too small for someone at my point in life.
Not Friendly When Eating at Work
I'm not, just not. If this characteristic has not yet changed from the age of 16 to the age of nearly 50, it ain't ever going to change. Not proud of it, but... the anti-social response is apparently deeply ingrained.
At 16, I worked at the Azle K-Mart and was sitting alone having hot dogs or something at the store cafeteria on my Saturday lunch break. A girl that I knew vaguely from school also worked there and was sitting with friends across the aisle. She beckoned me over to join them... Now, you would think that any normal person would be grateful for the company and friendly gesture and jump up to join them... I, on the other hand, shook my head "no, thanks." VERY awkward.
At a new job in the early 2000s (in my early 30s), I was sitting by myself at a long table in the work cafeteria. After I was over halfway finished with my meal, a whole group from my department started filing in and seating themselves at the end of the same table. There were still several chairs between us, but there they were, and there I was. A boss spotted me and called me over. Now, being new to the group, you would think that any normal person would be grateful for the invitation and chance to bond with fellow group members... Nah. I, on the other hand, shook my head and said, "I'm nearly done anyway," then scarfed the rest of my food and took off. VERY awkward.
The age-16 K-Mart incident had stayed in my memory all that time, me later cursing myself for acting terribly. Yet when the same type of situation arose 15-or-so years later, I behaved in exactly the same way, despite my awareness of how badly I'd behaved in the first case. I couldn't help myself. I could not bring myself to be civil!
Today at my work cafeteria, it wasn't anyone from MY group that requested to sit with me. But there were outside conference members filling up the cafeteria, and seating was short. I was eating at a table for 4 (where I usually eat by myself), and a 30-ish dyke-y woman plopped down right in front of me and asked to sit down. I said sure. (Already annoyed at a stranger sitting right in front of me; I thought there was an unwritten/common-sensical rule to sit catty-corner/diagonally when strangers are sharing a 4-seat table!) So there we were, eating away, me trying to ignore her. She says, looking at my taco salad: "Vegetables. I ate those yesterday, so I can eat what I want today." I had not being paying ANY attention to what food she had sat down with, but when she brought it up, I looked and saw her two slices of pizza and chocolate desert. Fine. Who cares. I smiled politely and continued munching. She wouldn't quit:
"Are you here with the conference?"
Me: "No, I work here."
"What do you do here?"
"Editing."
"What do you edit?"
At this point I semi-snapped, and glared, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be short or rude..."
"Oh! I should leave you alone!"
"I'm not trying to be rude, but I just need to THINK right now."
So for the next few minutes that it took for me to finish my salad, I then had to make an effort to look "contemplative" while doing so.
When I finally stood up to leave, my table-mate said cheerily, "Have a good one!" I did manage a "You, too."
But then I felt horrible afterward. Could I not have made some polite conversation? But I HATE polite conversation. But wouldn't polite conversation have been better than the awkwardness that ensued after my rejection of ANY conversation? I guess not, deep down in my soul.
I left the table feeling like shit for being rude, with a side-psychological-note of "What if she thought I was just rejecting her conversationally because she was so obviously a dyke? I'm gay, too! It was just very weird to me that you sat right in front of me and tried to force me to talk to you!"
At 16, I worked at the Azle K-Mart and was sitting alone having hot dogs or something at the store cafeteria on my Saturday lunch break. A girl that I knew vaguely from school also worked there and was sitting with friends across the aisle. She beckoned me over to join them... Now, you would think that any normal person would be grateful for the company and friendly gesture and jump up to join them... I, on the other hand, shook my head "no, thanks." VERY awkward.
At a new job in the early 2000s (in my early 30s), I was sitting by myself at a long table in the work cafeteria. After I was over halfway finished with my meal, a whole group from my department started filing in and seating themselves at the end of the same table. There were still several chairs between us, but there they were, and there I was. A boss spotted me and called me over. Now, being new to the group, you would think that any normal person would be grateful for the invitation and chance to bond with fellow group members... Nah. I, on the other hand, shook my head and said, "I'm nearly done anyway," then scarfed the rest of my food and took off. VERY awkward.
The age-16 K-Mart incident had stayed in my memory all that time, me later cursing myself for acting terribly. Yet when the same type of situation arose 15-or-so years later, I behaved in exactly the same way, despite my awareness of how badly I'd behaved in the first case. I couldn't help myself. I could not bring myself to be civil!
Today at my work cafeteria, it wasn't anyone from MY group that requested to sit with me. But there were outside conference members filling up the cafeteria, and seating was short. I was eating at a table for 4 (where I usually eat by myself), and a 30-ish dyke-y woman plopped down right in front of me and asked to sit down. I said sure. (Already annoyed at a stranger sitting right in front of me; I thought there was an unwritten/common-sensical rule to sit catty-corner/diagonally when strangers are sharing a 4-seat table!) So there we were, eating away, me trying to ignore her. She says, looking at my taco salad: "Vegetables. I ate those yesterday, so I can eat what I want today." I had not being paying ANY attention to what food she had sat down with, but when she brought it up, I looked and saw her two slices of pizza and chocolate desert. Fine. Who cares. I smiled politely and continued munching. She wouldn't quit:
"Are you here with the conference?"
Me: "No, I work here."
"What do you do here?"
"Editing."
"What do you edit?"
At this point I semi-snapped, and glared, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be short or rude..."
"Oh! I should leave you alone!"
"I'm not trying to be rude, but I just need to THINK right now."
So for the next few minutes that it took for me to finish my salad, I then had to make an effort to look "contemplative" while doing so.
When I finally stood up to leave, my table-mate said cheerily, "Have a good one!" I did manage a "You, too."
But then I felt horrible afterward. Could I not have made some polite conversation? But I HATE polite conversation. But wouldn't polite conversation have been better than the awkwardness that ensued after my rejection of ANY conversation? I guess not, deep down in my soul.
I left the table feeling like shit for being rude, with a side-psychological-note of "What if she thought I was just rejecting her conversationally because she was so obviously a dyke? I'm gay, too! It was just very weird to me that you sat right in front of me and tried to force me to talk to you!"
Sunday, January 11, 2015
The New York Groove
Many years since I was here
On the street I was passin' my time away
To the left and to the right, buildings towering to the sky
It's outta sight, in the dead of night
On the street I was passin' my time away
To the left and to the right, buildings towering to the sky
It's outta sight, in the dead of night
Here I am, again in this city
With a fistful of dollars
And baby, you'd better believe...
With a fistful of dollars
And baby, you'd better believe...
I'm back, back in the New York groove
In the back of my Cadillac
A wicked lady, sittin' by my side, sayin', "Where are we?"
Stop at Third and Forty-three, exit to the night
It's gonna be ecstacy, this place was meant for me
A wicked lady, sittin' by my side, sayin', "Where are we?"
Stop at Third and Forty-three, exit to the night
It's gonna be ecstacy, this place was meant for me
I feel so good tonight
Who cares about tomorrow
So baby, you'd better believe...
Who cares about tomorrow
So baby, you'd better believe...
I'm back, back in the New York groove
Going Down on Love (John Lennon, 1974)
Somebody please, please help me
You know I'm drowning in a sea of hatred...
You know I'm drowning in a sea of hatred...
Tuesday, January 06, 2015
Moving Is For the Young
I'm not moving until the end of this month but have been stressed about the whole impending process since Christmas vacation. Though I currently live in only a 380-sq-ft apartment, I've lived in it for the past 4-1/2 years and have built up a TON of stuff...
I arrived at this place in 2010 with the following cast-offs from my mom: a good 3 x 3 wooden kitchen table and two chairs, a computer table on wheels, a 3-drawer supply table on wheels, a night-side table, a foam chair that folded out into my bed for a couple of weeks, a 1990 microwave oven. Plus maybe 4 boxes of personal papers, 4 boxes of books, a few boxes of dishes and random personal items. And a 1990s TV that I bought from craigslist for $20. My mom and I moved all of this ourselves in one morning, except for the kitchen table, which my brother did for us.
Since then, here's what I've accumulated:
While packing this evening, I flashed back to the days of college and the decade after, when I used to move practically every year, with just a carload of friends and a pickup to help! Moving and helping people move was kind of a constant up until I was about 35! And there was still a bit of excitement about the whole process: "What will my 'next' place/life be like??" Now, approaching 50, though, and having been there many times before, said "process" is already, in its early stages, quite tedious and a bit depressing, despite the accompanying anticipation of a much larger place in a neighborhood I'm looking forward to being in. I was hoping the "anticipation" would have been a lot greater than it currently is.
I arrived at this place in 2010 with the following cast-offs from my mom: a good 3 x 3 wooden kitchen table and two chairs, a computer table on wheels, a 3-drawer supply table on wheels, a night-side table, a foam chair that folded out into my bed for a couple of weeks, a 1990 microwave oven. Plus maybe 4 boxes of personal papers, 4 boxes of books, a few boxes of dishes and random personal items. And a 1990s TV that I bought from craigslist for $20. My mom and I moved all of this ourselves in one morning, except for the kitchen table, which my brother did for us.
Since then, here's what I've accumulated:
- bed/box-springs/metal frame (ordered new online, delivered)
- three 6-ft bookcases (2 from a used furniture store that my brother delivered, 1 found by my apt. dumpster)
- a 5-ft bookcase (craigslist person who delivered)
- small bookcase (used furniture store, brother delivered)
- nice Crate-and-Barrel chair (used furniture store, brother delivered)
- small round wooden table with eaves (alley behind my apt. building)
- light chair (by my apt. dumpster)
- etagere (from an apt. neighbor selling off her stuff)
- wooden DVD case (craigslist person who delivered)
- 500-CD holder (by my apt. dumpster)
- over 500 books
- over 400 CDs
While packing this evening, I flashed back to the days of college and the decade after, when I used to move practically every year, with just a carload of friends and a pickup to help! Moving and helping people move was kind of a constant up until I was about 35! And there was still a bit of excitement about the whole process: "What will my 'next' place/life be like??" Now, approaching 50, though, and having been there many times before, said "process" is already, in its early stages, quite tedious and a bit depressing, despite the accompanying anticipation of a much larger place in a neighborhood I'm looking forward to being in. I was hoping the "anticipation" would have been a lot greater than it currently is.
Crazeee
I'll be hitting 50 this year and, frankly, "crazy" ain't so charming any more, like it was in my 20s.
An example:
Early in November, Sandra indicated that a friend of hers had a cabin available in the Hill Country, and why didn't we got out there? Me: OK!
Weeks went by. No cabin materialized. Finally, near Christmas, I gave a hint: "Hey, I'm about to have 16 days off! Let's do something!" No response to that.
When I last spoke to Sandra a couple of days ago, two days before my vacation was about to end, she said: "You could come out here, but I can't invite you because I don't have a car, and we couldn't go anywhere."
Me: "Hey, my vacation's over now."
What an idiot. My disdain for her, but for me, too, for my hopes.
An example:
Early in November, Sandra indicated that a friend of hers had a cabin available in the Hill Country, and why didn't we got out there? Me: OK!
Weeks went by. No cabin materialized. Finally, near Christmas, I gave a hint: "Hey, I'm about to have 16 days off! Let's do something!" No response to that.
When I last spoke to Sandra a couple of days ago, two days before my vacation was about to end, she said: "You could come out here, but I can't invite you because I don't have a car, and we couldn't go anywhere."
Me: "Hey, my vacation's over now."
What an idiot. My disdain for her, but for me, too, for my hopes.
Sunday, January 04, 2015
How on earth will I make my way??
After telling my mother to fuck off on New Year's Day, one of my first thoughts the next day was: "Oh shit... I'm moving at the end of the month, and she had saved all of her moving boxes from 2010 for me... Where in the world am I going to get boxes for all of my books?"
Then I realized: My corner beer store gets in new boxes every day. Just took home 10 of them this evening. I'll have enough by the end of the month.
Another thing I'd been worrying about re moving: I'd anticipated needing a car at the end of the month, before the movers of the big things; was worrying about who to ask, my brother or my mother? My brother wouldn't be available; my mother would be available, but would bitch every single step of the way, making me so nervous that I'd probably actually HAVE a wreck.
Then I realized: There're such places like "Rent-a-Wreck" and other rental places that I can afford. I can rent a fucking car for 3 days to haul my clothes and personal belongings. Just because I haven't driven a car since 2007 (for the past 8 years, since I sold off my car when I moved to NYC until now), doesn't mean I can't drive a fucking car! I've been driving since I was 16, and I drove up until I left for New York in 2007. I can certainly figure out how to drive in 2015.
Then I realized: My corner beer store gets in new boxes every day. Just took home 10 of them this evening. I'll have enough by the end of the month.
Another thing I'd been worrying about re moving: I'd anticipated needing a car at the end of the month, before the movers of the big things; was worrying about who to ask, my brother or my mother? My brother wouldn't be available; my mother would be available, but would bitch every single step of the way, making me so nervous that I'd probably actually HAVE a wreck.
Then I realized: There're such places like "Rent-a-Wreck" and other rental places that I can afford. I can rent a fucking car for 3 days to haul my clothes and personal belongings. Just because I haven't driven a car since 2007 (for the past 8 years, since I sold off my car when I moved to NYC until now), doesn't mean I can't drive a fucking car! I've been driving since I was 16, and I drove up until I left for New York in 2007. I can certainly figure out how to drive in 2015.
Happy New Year, 2015
I broke in New Year's Day cursing my mother and Sandra via e-mail. Woke up the next day with a hangover, feeling guilty and shitty for being rude, and being mad at myself for bringing in the New Year with Bad Vibes.
However... were my messages to my mother and to Sandra bad vibes for the New Year, or simply a cleansing of bad shit from the Old Year, and from many old years?
After my initial guilt, I'm now pretty sure that it was out with the old and shitty.
However... were my messages to my mother and to Sandra bad vibes for the New Year, or simply a cleansing of bad shit from the Old Year, and from many old years?
After my initial guilt, I'm now pretty sure that it was out with the old and shitty.
Thursday, January 01, 2015
Winter's Mysticism
Up all New Year's Eve and now into New Year's Day, having napped extensively yesterday afternoon. About 6 this morning, the predicted freezing rain started falling --- I briefly opened my blinds AND window to get a whiff of the bracing head-clearing-ness. I like winter. I miss the season of snow and ice from when I lived up north. The phrase "winter's mysticism" came to mind, because the snow and ice ARE mystical to me.
When I did an online search for the phrase "winter's mysticism," Shakespeare's Sonnet 6 came up first:
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure, ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair,
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.
Several online interpretations of the sonnet determined that Shakespeare was urging either a young woman or a young man to literally procreate! Myself, I saw it as Shakespeare urging the importance of having a deep well of resources, a core of spring, to draw on that outer circumstances could not affect. And not feeling guilty about drawing upon such.
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure, ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury...
And the "That's for thyself to breed another thee": Your interpretation of your world! And thus your passing along of the core of yourself.
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
What you pass along in your art ensures that you will live for posterity.
When I did an online search for the phrase "winter's mysticism," Shakespeare's Sonnet 6 came up first:
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure, ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair,
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.
Several online interpretations of the sonnet determined that Shakespeare was urging either a young woman or a young man to literally procreate! Myself, I saw it as Shakespeare urging the importance of having a deep well of resources, a core of spring, to draw on that outer circumstances could not affect. And not feeling guilty about drawing upon such.
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure, ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury...
And the "That's for thyself to breed another thee": Your interpretation of your world! And thus your passing along of the core of yourself.
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
What you pass along in your art ensures that you will live for posterity.
Leningrad Cowboys & the Russian Red Army Choir
First song from the "Total Balaika Show" concert in Helsinki, 1993. Watching this on TCM right now while waiting for the Joan/Bette marathon to start... It's blowing my mind in a good way!
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