Aviva O'Byrne's Melting Pot

I Am Woman

2011-12-28T10:55:00.000-08:00

After we got rid of my uncle Jim's car, we moved on to the condo and all the mess associated with that. Painting was first on the agenda. I had never painted ceilings before so I was in for a real treat.

On the third day or so, an enormous glop of paint went directly into my left eyeball. It felt like my eye was burning off and I was screaming bloody murder. I don't know how I made it to the bathroom to wash out, and it really took many rinses before I could open my eye or see anything. The feeling of that crap in there was freakish. I kept asking my dad if I was going to go blind and he couldn't help but laugh. It was water based paint and he assured me that it will come out and there was no need to rush to the hospital. I was fine by the end of the day and resumed painting a smaller room, holding the roller quite farther away. I felt like I failed in my remodeling duties and since I was championing this project, I had to save face. I could handle it. My dad didn't want to spend time over there at all, so I became the apprentice carpenter to get this over with.

A lot of the work was genuinely fun. The process of cleaning out and getting rid of and re-building made me feel healthier, positive, and productive. It was incredible to see change that is brought about by effort and hard work. It's therapeutic to have this tangible meaningful success. There were days that were extremely difficult but doing this act of physical labor brings about a lot of good I didn't know I had in me.

The best thing about this whole experience is that for a while, I wasn't as affected by family drama. I had a plan for every day. I woke up knowing what we were setting out to accomplish and we were able to brush off a lot of other garbage to focus here. It felt great. This was finally something I did with the family that felt worth it. Each day when I returned home, my uncle on my mom's side would see me covered in paint and dirt and filth and smelling like a man, and he would laugh. He didn't believe that I would actually do this but once I did, he seemed impressed.

If there is anything I've learned from this experience it's that each project will take at least twice as long as you plan on, and there are always unforeseen complications that may have you re-doing a whole lot. Painting seems like no big deal but the preparation takes a great deal of time. Setting down drop cloths and taping takes forever! And you forget about the little things: walls need to be cleaned of dust and dirt, you must take out and put tape around the ceiling lights, remove molding from the ceilings and floors, you find nails everywhere and rip your fingers open with them by accident, removing light switch covers and outlet covers takes forever, removing doors has to be done first, turning off the power so you don't get electrocuted in the bathroom is necessary, etc.

I learned how to build a wall with 2 x 4s, size cut and install dry wall, remove carpet on stairs, apply real primer (which is a total necessity as we later found out,) remove tile, remove cabinets, re-wire electricity, find out how to size cabinets for a kitchen and who has the better deal, (since we went to 6 places!! One in Wisconsin!) how to recycle an unusable washer and dryer, the proper way to use a saw, using an electrical sander, hand sanding, and the biggest pain in the ass: removing wallpaper. Oh my god that was sheer hell.

A lot of this isn't terribly complicated, just time consuming. It's also hard to prepare for things that will go wrong. And they will.

We wanted to "de-dungeon" the place and make it warm and cheery, so I decided on what was supposed to be a light tangerine color for the living room/dining room area. Unfortunately the large window doesn't get nearly as much light as I had assumed and the room now looks a very serious canary yellow. Oops. How does that happen? It didn't look so bold before we did the whole room. But hey sometimes you've got to be bold in this world, so yellow it is. That and Dad refuses to re-do this even though I lost sleep over it.

The thing about primer is that it covers up all the shit. For example, if your clearly depressed uncle thought that his office should be a hideous charcoal grey/brown/puce/shit color, you need at least two coats of primer to get rid of it. Otherwise, the new beautiful blue won't stick and the shit will run through.

Each time you fix something in a disastrous house, another area instantly becomes glaringly offensive. During this process my friend A asked if there were still traces of my uncle, or if we could feel his presence. I had to say yes, definitely. Fresh paint on walls only illuminates the brown blinds and shades from a smoker, the dust dirt and debris stuck in door frames, the lack of caulk, the dead bugs in the window frames, the feathers in the bathroom exhaust, and general extreme neglect everywhere.

Dad had this whole plan that we were going to take down the kitchen cabinet doors and sand, re-varnish or paint, then simply put them back. Sure, except that the whole kitchen was stupidly laid out in the first place, emitted the smell of obviously rotting wood, and was just plain awful to be in. I didn't want to nag, but I felt that the whole kitchen needed to be gutted. It wasn't until we had re-painted other rooms that he saw it too. And smelled it. And was no longer in denial about it. The kitchen had to go.

Fixing the kitchen ended up being a personal triumph of mine. Many steps were required to figure it out, but we got there. First we pretended to be interested in the two foreclosures down the street and spied on them. One was completely rehabbed and selling for a measly $114. The other had a vintage kitchen and stained carpeting in the bedrooms and selling for a whopping $109. My dad was totally depressed over this and couldn't believe what we got stuck with. He kept moaning that all we will get is $114 and to get that we have to do a ton of labor to compete. But, I felt like hey, we could really make that kitchen amazing. The nice place had a perfect design and to get there we just needed to remove a large stupidly placed cabinet. He said it was impossible because our gas line for the stove was on the opposite side as theirs and we wouldn't have enough room for the counter. Not so. I realized that we could keep most of what we had but merely move everything over a few inches and get rid of a couple things that impeded the space. We would have the same design as that rehabbed condo, but with appliances on opposite sides. We could also add a lazy susan, which would give us only one blind corner instead of two.

He looked thunderstruck when I said this. He started measuring and drawing and soon enough we had a great plan. We compared six places for size, price, and design for the new layout. FYI: Ikea was not the cheapest as expected. Soon enough new gorgeous cabinets were ordered as well as a new built in microwave with an exterior hood above the range, and a dishwasher to replace the non-existant one. All in all it was a major upgrade, and didn't cost a ton. Sometimes it really helps to have another set of eyes.

He kept telling me that the kitchen floor was in good shape and he was going to leave it. I thought it was hideous but I wasn't going to make a problem for him. If he wanted to salvage something here then that's up to him. However, while I was scrubbing the wallpaper glue off the kitchen walls and he was preparing to install the new cabinets, things changed. Out of nowhere I heard an enormous ripping sound. I was in mid-sentence and thought we were in a conversation when I look over and see that my dad had spontaneously ripped out that disgusting linoleum floor. It was like he just couldn't stand looking at it anymore. Talk about therapy.

Removing wallpaper was by far the most disgusting job in our project. Fair warning: if you are putting wallpaper in your home then guess what. You are a fucking idiot. Don't cry to me when you get sick of that stupid design and find it to be filthy and greasy and stained from cooking or your kid's crayon drawings or whatever mess you get on it. I warned you.

The wallpaper in our condo has been there for probably my entire life, or longer. Uncle Jim bought this condo before my parents were married and despite some sort of remodel he did 15 years ago, the wallpaper may have stood the test of time. My dad tried a solvent to get it off, a steamer, water, scraping, etc. We were going to just put up quarter inch dry wall, but after covering all the basement paneling, he was sick of it and thought this would be easier. Ha! He managed to get all the actual paper off, but we were left with the glue. Whomever put that shit up in the first place did a sloppy haphazard job with globs of goo everywhere. Once we found a solvent that worked for this crap it took three entire days to get it off. I was exhausted.

We found a section that had a mural from the 1950's on it. My dad thought it was totally cool and I kind of wanted to keep it, but the wall was in such bad shape it really had to get painted over. We knew we did a good job when we could finally see the mural in its entirety. What an unexpected bonus!

Once the kitchen was finally painted a beautiful pale honey color, my dad finally had something positive to say about this experience: "It's a miracle. My god, I don't believe it. It's a miracle."

I can't believe how much money we saved by doing this ourselves, and I can't believe how satisfying even the smallest change can be. I know that if I didn't help my dad with at least some of this, it could have taken up to a year. While he is still working there on his own, I'm glad I got to help out for a little while. The accomplishments did wonders for my self esteem, especially after being around so many family members that constantly put me down.

I am strong, I am invincible, and I still had time to bake.

The Demons

2011-12-19T07:28:00.000-08:00

I awoke with huge anxiety yesterday morning, to the point that I had to put my head between my knees and breathe slowly until I could get up. It was nightmares that did it to me, two in a row believe it or not.

The first one was about a trip I was taking with my uncle and grandma. I was driving them home from shopping and we were supposed to catch a boat to Canada, but I missed the exit on the highway and figured we should just go home. Upon arriving home I took packages out of my car and they proceeded to put them back, and an argument ensued on the way in which I locked the doors. I said I needed something from the other side and they started screaming about how I was wasting time and we could still make it to Canada and the only reason they were doing this was because of me and I was ungrateful and Uncle knew the way and why didn't I let him drive.....the screaming was what woke me up finally.

But I fell back asleep and my second dream landed me in a hospital. This time my uncle and my mother were there with me and presumably we were in the hospital because my grandma was in there. I don't remember why my uncle was screaming at me in this setting but he elevated his anger to the point that he hit me in the face, which caused my mom to scream more and also take a swing at me. So I woke up in a total panic attack and had to give up on falling back asleep. I don't know why any of this happened but my intuition is telling me that he blames us for all the trouble Grandma has to go through, and all three of them have severe anger management problems, and they are all disappointed in me.

Ok, so that's my hypothesis on them. But what do the dreams say about me? Something is upsetting me enough to enter my dreams and cause panic at 5am. Is it simply a reminder to stay 2000 miles away? Is it a prediction of what is to come? Or is it just a reflection of what has been on my mind lately due to hearing of all their grievances back home? I definitely spend way too much time worrying about what they all think of me when I really shouldn't care. I shouldn't let their screaming infiltrate my brain and my independence no matter where I am. If people want to scream their heads off insulting you endlessly then you have to decide that it's their problem, not yours. Of course I have not yet been able to do that and have sought help numerous times.

Something I'd like to learn in the next year is how to remove focus of exterior influences and solely concentrate on what I want to do. I felt so tense and achy all day yesterday, the dreams nearly ruined my entire day. I didn't know if I could make it to a yoga class but I forced myself and I was in for a pleasant surprise. It helped to take myself away from all those thoughts and pay attention to my movements. Amazingly a handstand seemed easier than ever before. The pose still needs work but my body gave me this gift today, maybe so that I could spend some time up-side down and gain clarity. The only thing that stopped me before was the brain saying "no don't!" at the last minute. But it wasn't there today. There was no little voice nagging at me this time.

My friend S is a triathlete and when I expressed to her my dislike of running, she said that she used to hate it too. But then her trainer explained that we hate these things because we decided to. We decided to give ourselves a hard time about it and make it impossible to succeed. And then when we try to get past it, it feels like a forceful anger inducing crazed attack on the body. She says these are the demons in our mind telling us how to think of the way we do things. We have to silence them, or brush them away or let the running unfold into something relaxing over time without even thinking about it. I may have finally reached this hurtle today with the handstand and I nearly cried tears of joy right there in class. I couldn't wait to get back home and try again.

Handstands are supposed to have the following benefits: getting over fear, increased clarity, improved digestion, increase of blood circulation, core strength, and greater balance. Since all of these things are destined to bring about sweeter dreams, I am committed to practice handstands. I am feeling pretty lucky to have found the exercise that I love. It improves my quality of life and helps me get rid of exterior influences and demons. I realized yesterday that I started what will be a lifelong practice. I completely forgot about my bad dream for the rest of the day and had a restful sleep last night.

Gumption

2011-12-13T12:17:00.000-08:00

Even the smallest project can take so much longer than you expect.

I started knitting a blanket a year ago, it is still unfinished.

I left the passport agency to pursue school and that is still undecided.

I helped take apart/remodel a condo, and it is still unlivable.

I get very very upset when I feel broke and unaccomplished, and I often dwell on those thoughts way too much. In truth, since 2011 is nearing an end, I know I have accomplished a great deal. It's surprising when I really think about it, and really good to know that I was useful and helpful and gained wisdom and stood up for myself a few times when things got crazy.

I am not proud that I hung up the phone on my grandma that day. I agonized over it for an entire week, and of course I was the one to initiate the first phone call back. However, I knew it was wrong and downright crazy to scream and yell at me like that. She didn't understand the point I was trying to make, or any point I ever try to make, and she went ballistic. It's a common quality on my mom's side of the family to scream whenever they want to say anything. It has come to a point where just being around them sends my entire body into a cringe. I always cower and walk away or argue just to be shot down, and it is never worth it.

Surprisingly one of the best things I have ever done was hang up on her because I learned that I can illuminate the bad behavior that way. It also allowed me to exert control and maintain sanity. It's never a mature response, and I worried that she would be overcome by such disrespect that she wouldn't get why I had to do that. I never in a million years thought that she would apologize to me, but when I finally called her back she did.

When I was back in town for a wedding there was a day where I decided we were getting rid of Uncle Jim's car. Dad had already taken it to a mechanic for an assessment and found it to be a death trap. The damn thing reeked of cigarettes and was so filthy and rusted it was overwhelmingly depressing just to sit in it for a half hour. A high school near my parents have an auto shop for students so we donated.

While my dad and I were in the process of various paperwork signing, my mom called about a hundred times. She and my dad were to meet with a contact at a non-profit about job searching that afternoon. We thought we would get back in time but definitely cut it too close. As we were about to leave I called to tell her where my car keys were so she could get there first. She answered the phone just screaming. SCREAMING about how I fucked her over and this was important to her and now they'll make a bad impression and it was all my fault and on and on and on, without me getting a chance to say anything. So again, my brain said, "turn it off," and I hung up.

I have no regrets about this action. It is ridiculous to let anyone barrage you with insults and abusive behavior. I'm not going to let it happen again. I am especially not going to let it happen when I am helping out in the first place.

I can't help but be reminded of that scene in The Holiday where Kate Winslet's character tells her ex-boyfriend that she's pretty sure she's got gumption, and slams the door in his face. Yes, yes yes.

About a month after all of this I was working for a previous employer in a high stress situation. It was a particularly bad night because we were all over-worked and over-scheduled and dealing with an insane amount of traffic to get where we needed to go. I was coordinating all transportation for a major event and needed to get people to several places all at the same time. Some people involved reacted badly when they found out there were stops along the way to our destination that evening, and refused the service only to wait longer for the next ride. Very stupid. When I finally had a driver available to pick up my boss at the office, she completely freaked out that there were other guests in the car. Furious, she screamed bloody murder at me telling me that this was embarrassing and unprofessional.

She had no idea that people refused to get into a car and caused a delay. She didn't tell us that a guest changed their fight itinerary causing a driver to wait 45 minutes at the airport for nothing that evening. She also didn't know that one of my drivers got lost 3 times and didn't know how to get to the event after she picked up 14 people in her van. She also didn't know that I had just gone from venue to venue to venue to hotel to hotel to event to hotel to event when I realized that I desperately had to pee and I hadn't eaten anything in 7 hours. Yet, despite this terrible schedule and bad planning it was somehow all my fault and I was getting an earful. My shock caused me to do something wildly unexpected. I don't know where I found these words at this very moment, but I said: "I did a great job today. You're welcome. I'm hanging up the phone now." And I hung up.

I was petrified at what I had done. Is it even more unprofessional to point out the insanity of your boss? I sat at a table shaking and barely able to eat what was put in front of me. Our event host talked me down and assured me that I did the right thing because my hands were tied, and there was no way I could have pulled it off better unless I had more staff.

Later that evening he came up to me and asked if I would go down and talk to my boss outside. As soon as I saw her there were tears in her eyes and I felt so bad about it all that we ended up hugging and getting teary together. Even as it started to seriously rain outside she wanted to stay out there and talk and go over everything and insist that there wasn't anything wrong with the schedule, it was that we had to communicate more often. I thought oh my god she really is insane. But honestly, she's a pretty awesome passionate person and I admire how much she can handle. However, I might have been the only person that bothered pointing out to her that we have limitations and some things can't be perfect, period. There comes a point where even the most workaholic managers could display some grace and be grateful for those trying their best to help.

I think we have to remind people and I certainly have to remind myself often that hey, I'm here. I'm in this too. I'm trying to help; I am trying to be of service. I've worked hard to get projects finished. I'm trying my best to accomplish goals and keep my head above water.

Make It Stop

2011-12-07T20:44:00.000-08:00

I hung up on my grandma once this summer. It was the day after I arrived back in Seattle after my uncle's funeral. The previous evening I felt a surge of emotion that had me going to her for comfort. It was all too much at once. I couldn't go to my mom because she was generally in a foul mood. She had taken to only screaming rather than talking, and was utterly taken over by fury due to the circumstances of Jim's death and the secrets he hid.

Each day of family being around became too much for me. My dad's other brother came over to Jim's place to "help" with a little cleaning and sorting of documents. For some reason he brought his wife and mother in law who proceeded to rifle through all the kitchen cabinets and park directly in front of the china cabinet. They were clearly staking their claims. They stayed for about an hour looking through things and clearly trying to find something specific. I assume they didn't find it. My cousin took my uncle's hard drive and came back claiming there was nothing on it at all. When he returned he also brought his wife, and asked her what she wanted. I couldn't believe it. I knew they were contemplating divorce, and did in fact divorce about a month after all this, but hey take what you want from the dead guy! It's only my grandmother's heirlooms, but what the hell. Might as well have a free for all.

I couldn't figure out how a dead man's home, which he didn't want anyone inside of in the first place, became a party of sorts. My uncle with his entourage was just going to sweep in and blow us away. Even my aunt was going through old tax documents and claimed that since she used to be an accountant she could help with his late payments. She boasted about how she had to look all of them over and she would have to go to the IRS with it since she believed he stopped paying taxes years ago. Of course when they left the place, she didn't take anything with her and didn't even bother to help with a thing. She just wanted to see the information.

I was sickened. I felt my blood absolutely boil throughout that day. My dad's face was stony and I could tell he could have reached out and strangled his brother if not for all the witnesses. But what could we have done? I've replayed this event in my head over and over and I wish I said hey get the fuck out right now, or only my uncle and my cousin are allowed in here and no one else, or hello? He just died in here a week ago why are there so many people in his place? I didn't invite my relatives from my mom's side over there during this time. I certainly didn't claim to be of use and then walk away. How did I get stuck with family like this? Who the fuck do they think they are?

During the funeral itself I listened to my cousin talk about how he was very close with Jim. I don't know if he wanted to one-up me or what but I got that feeling. He was saying that he intended to come into Chicago for the 4th of July anyway and was going to stay with Jim. Really? He was going to stay with our uncle who could barely walk across his own tiny kitchen, couldn't catch his breath, and was living in filth? They were so close that he didn't know of our uncle's recent hospitalization which had my dad spending the night at the hospital? Come on. I like my cousin, I really do. Or, I want to like him very much. He is my only cousin on planet earth and we do have a great deal in common, but then.....I don't know if I like him at all. We're pretty much strangers. And after listening to him talk about how much he loved Jim and will miss him and how close they were, I really wanted to punch him in the face. At the funeral he endlessly talked about himself and how amazing he is and branding and product recognition and social media marketing and entertaining account managers and blah blah blah. I admire that he is very successful and he is happy with it, but I don't know how to talk to him and I admit that he makes me uncomfortable. I'd rather be cousins with his ex-wife.

We briefly talked about why I gave up on Jim long ago and my aunt and cousin totally didn't believe me. I could see it in their faces. It was a classic case of ignore the problem and it doesn't exist. My cousin did agree that Jim probably just hated women and that was all their was to it. Of course my aunt claimed that he wasn't so bad and she never noticed him treating women badly. In fact, didn't I know that Jim was in love with her sister and wanted to marry her? Oh sure. Of course he did.

I confronted her about not being invited to my cousin's wedding. I was talking about how I didn't understand why we are always the black sheep in this family and why everyone treats my dad so badly. I told her we were pretty shocked about not receiving an invitation. What happened next was pretty beautiful. First she claimed that they did not send any invites and they just called people. She was sure that they called my parents. I told her they didn't. Then she got my cousin and said: she thinks we didn't invite them! He said oh no you were invited. We just didn't have your address. Couldn't you have sent it to my parents? They've been in the same spot for 25 years. We did! We sent them invitations. They didn't get it. Oh well it must be V's fault. She was the one in charge of all that stuff. (V was my cousin's wife) That's it. Blame it on the wife.

And then there was the vase. It was decided that my cousin and I would split everything in the china cabinet between us. Our parents agreed on this, but then my uncle changed his mind. He kept asking my aunt what she would like. She claimed not to want anything but then said that she wanted the crystal paperweight. And she wanted my grandmother's bible, especially since it didn't mean anything to us. Then my uncle wanted porcelain flowers. Then he wanted the vase that the flowers were in.

What? I don't think I am the normally the type to behave this way but as far as I'm concerned all that shit is mine. Mine. I allowed my cousin to take what he wanted but that was the deal. My aunt and uncle already have all the crystal and porcelain and silver they want. I never received any heirloom from my grandparents because guess what. My uncles and aunt STOLE it all after their passing. I didn't get a piece of jewelry or a book or anything that I could have kept for sentimental value.

The way this happened was that after my grandmother passed, my dad was not welcome in his parent's home. My uncles refused to let him inside claiming that he was a bad son and a bad Catholic and he didn't deserve anything. Of course the only uncle left claims that he had no idea about this and wasn't involved with it. It was between my dad and Jim.

This was a bold faced lie. Jim told me that my grandmother didn't have any jewelry and what she did have they gave to the church. Total bullshit, as we knew that she liked amber. Years later he found some old costume earrings and a rosary with marble stones that he gave me. The earrings were total junk. And, about ten years ago before they moved to the west coast, my aunt invited me over saying that she had something to give me. It was a sweater my grandmother hand knitted in the Celtic knot style. She said that she had several and didn't have room for them all but that I could have this one. It was too big for her anyway. She told me that she was going to keep the one my grandma wore the most often for sentimental value. She also showed me a porcelain bird in her china cabinet that she claimed my grandmother asked her to keep safe.

So, everything went to the church except for the things my aunt wanted? Am I to believe that my grandmother would rather her daughter in law have these items over her only granddaughter? Specifically, these very girlie items which could be given to my future family? Is it really because I was some heathen child and should I have been a Catholic she would have cared about me? Once I found out about the sweater and the bird I realized that there might have been several things that were taken from me. Seeing some of them in Jim's place made me territorial. And crazy.

There is no doubt whatsoever that I don't really care for china cabinets or porcelain or crystal. A lot of it is tacky anyway, but I couldn't get over the principle of the whole thing. My aunt and uncle agreed that it was all to be split between my cousin and I, and then they proceeded to lay claim to things. My uncle consulted a lawyer he knows while in town and started making demands of my father in the way to handle things. My dad refused outright and when my uncle tried to become a joint executor of the will, he was shot down due to living in another state. What a shmuck.

So when my uncle had gone back home and called reminding us that he wanted that vase, I went into a fury. It was decided that we would conveniently forget about it, or send him a smaller one. Frankly I did like the vase and would have put it to use, but the vase became this symbol for everything wrong. We started to argue about the stupid vase. My grandma said not to give him the vase. My uncle said that the other uncle will respect me more if I decide that it's mine. My mom said that I should cut him with: "I'm sure Grandma J would have wanted me to have it."

The experience sent me into tears and I went to my grandma to seek help. I just couldn't understand why he would call just for a stupid vase, on my dad's birthday no less, and still make demands. It had me wondering once again how I share DNA with these people. In the end, my dad caved and sent the vase over. And this is what I don't like about my dad: sometimes he can be a doormat. I'd like it if he took a stand more often. There are certainly things worth being entitled about. I can't figure out why he would let his brothers treat him like that all those years ago. Wouldn't you just shove them out of the way? Get into a physical fight? Get a lawyer so you are protected from them? Or never talk to then again, funerals or not? Other times I think he just doesn't like confrontation or doesn't want to be bothered or maybe just doesn't want to sink to such a level over something so stupid. Who really cares about the vase itself? There will be other vases and other knick knacks that might someday end up in a garage sale anyway. I guess it was the turmoil of being around these awful people and drudging up old memories and ugliness. Maybe the best thing to do is wrap up the dirt and send it away.

It was all too much. The day after I hung out with Grandma I was leaving to go back to Seattle. I noticed my mom acting very strangely around me and hugging and kissing me too much and asking if I was ok a hundred times. I drank a few greyhounds in the airport and had a decent sleep on the plane. I called my mom when I arrived and she said that she was worried about me because Grandma said I was hysterical about the vase. What? I was upset about my uncle and what a lousy person he is and all of a sudden I am hysterical? That is ridiculous.

I called Grandma the next day to thank her for her help, and tell her that she shouldn't have told my mom about our conversation. She immediately wanted to talk more about it and argue that she had to tell my mom because I was so miserable. I told her that I cried for maybe two minutes and just wanted to talk, there was no reason to tell my mom I was hysterical. She kept going on and on about it and I got even more upset that I bothered to tell anyone my feelings at all. I told her I didn't want to talk about it anymore and she completely freaked out. She screamed and screamed at me that I was a baby and I couldn't handle anything and I never told her not to share with my mom and I was a baby and didn't I know what a child I was and what kind of a child is 32 years old and on and on. I couldn't get in one word and I pulled the phone away and then she was still going on. Out of nowhere a very clear thought in my brain said: "MAKE IT STOP," and I hung up the phone.

Operation De-Dungeon

2011-12-06T09:42:00.001-08:00

After enduring the wildly sexist and ridiculous comments from my uncle, I proceeded to become an apprentice carpenter out of nowhere. We inherited a condo that no one wants and we didn't know what to do with it. While Uncle insisted that he would "work hard" to get the place in order, he never bothered to come over or offer any real help. It fell on my dad and I to do everything and if I didn't help, he would be stuck with this burden alone. Initially he wanted to sell and get rid of it as soon as possible, but naturally with any home ownership unforeseen complications arose everyday.

Problem 1: the place was in horrific condition, especially since my uncle died in there and wasn't found for days.

Problem 2: two others of the exact same condo unit were in foreclosure down the street, and were in better condition

Problem 3: a neighbor that was pre-approved was extremely interested and wanted to buy the place as is for an abysmally low price; too low for my dad

Problem 4: my mother set out a campaign to get me to move in there since at least it's paid off, and she actually believes the value will go up. I am both tempted at times and at other times think it is totally ridiculous/impossible.

Problem 5: emotions/conflicts with the family greatly increased due to this new home ownership, and everyone wanting to get their way with it despite not lifting a finger to help. Various arguments happened throughout the process on topics such as me buying it, (hell no) me moving in, (don't think so) renting it out to make money, (dad is dead set against that one) fixing it up to sell, etc. Screaming matches about money and lawyers and handling this properly, (so we don't get screwed by my dad's other brother) were a daily event. It sucked.

Problem 6: everything costs WAY more than you plan for.

It's really weird when a person's death becomes about everyone else and their desires to make money or acquire stuff. I know this happens to everyone, but this is some major horse shit to deal with. After the funeral my uncle in San Francisco called on my dad's birthday not to wish him a happy birthday, but to be sure and remember that he wanted that Waterford crystal vase.

I escaped all of this for about two months, but came back in town in last August to stand up in a wedding and help with the condo projects. Of course it was way more than I bargained for. My parents weren't dealing well with the circumstances, and by that I mean they were avoiding it, and I felt the need to step in.

In the course of a few weeks I did this: wrote and sent out all thank you cards, arranged for donation crews to come in and take the furniture, got estimates and donation info about his car and eventually got rid of the gross car, got estimates and hired a cleaning crew, (which took 6 ladies 6 hours to do the job) did major drop offs to Salvation Army, viewed the foreclosures down the street to get ideas, decided on the first leg of strategy for remodeling, and designed a new kitchen.

I did this. Me. I did this without help from a man, in fact I did this to help all the men who couldn't handle it/didn't want to. Obviously my dad was involved but I arranged all the pre-remodel events, and then we made remodeling decisions together. I may have pressured him into the remodel at first but later on I heard him say that he couldn't sell it the way it was, and he didn't feel right about showing it at all. There is therapy in this type of work and I think it helped everyone a great deal to see the place transformed.

We called it "Operation De-Dungeon."

Gifts

2011-12-02T06:08:00.001-08:00

Last summer an idea popped into my head to send my uncle Jim the series of His Dark Materials that I recently finished. It was possible that he would have liked it, but since the subject matter could have offended him, I changed my mind. That, and I didn't feel like being so nice.

About three months later, Jim passed away. The death itself had me wondering whether having love and friendship in your life is the secret to good health. If no one loves you, do you simply expire? I felt like it was my fault. Like I killed him.

Of course it's ridiculous. We have to believe that people live their lives the way they want, and if they want to change it is well within their capability. I've convinced myself slowly that I didn't kill him. However, no one had a nice word for Jim. Family flew in from all over and we had a simple service and a lengthy drinking session, but no one said anything nice about him, including myself. My dad couldn't get over the fact that no one even had a nice memory of Jim, and he wondered what would people say about him when it was his turn. It was an incredibly weird and sad experience, and it was the first time I had ever seen my dad sing and and first time I saw him stagger from too much drink.

This death has affected me much more than I would have thought possible. Going into his home and having to deal with an endless mess of messes was unbelievably depressing and shocking and anger building. How could he have lived like that? Was it clearly depression? Couldn't he have reached out to someone?

And yet, he told his neighbors that all his family moved away. He hated us. Going through his paperwork we found that he stole my dad's inheritance by signing the deed to my grandparent's house over to himself. He kept all of their life insurance money to himself and claimed at the time that it was given to him, and not to split between the brothers. This was only a piece of the drama we had yet to uncover. There were other lovely horrifying things to be found in his place, and we had to do all the clean up.

The place was remodeled about ten or fifteen years ago, and seemingly never touched since. There were rolls of dust over nearly everything, especially on the light fixtures. The shades and blinds on the windows were once white but became torn and an eerie shade of brown. The kitchen cabinets emitted a smell of spoiled milk and had areas of obvious rot. A layer of thick grease covered everything in the kitchen, even the floor. The linoleum flooring in the basement had torn and was easily lifted right off. He had piles of paperwork dating back to the 70s and 80s stacked up in closets and on the floor nearly everywhere. This was left for us from a man that ran his finger over our refrigerator to point out the minuscule dust to my mom, and blame her for not keeping up with her home.

I flew back and forth twice to be there for the family and for a friend's wedding. It was the first time in a few years where I thought that Chicago was the place I should be. There was so much to do and if we waited it would have taken a year to fix the place. But the emotional turmoil of it was tremendous. I was grateful to be going back to Seattle in between rounds of organizing, cleaning, moving and fixing.

While in Seattle, my mom's brother came to visit. I call him "Uncle" in real life. He didn't plan this vacation but since he had the time off I suggested that he come out. I've never done anything nice for him really, but he is super nice to me despite his grating personality. He bought me my first bike when I was little, and my first ipod, and to this day he gives me a wad of cash for Chanukah. He loves me.

However, this uncle is also a disastrous pain in the ass. At least he is generally a nice person and is just a little dim-witted. Or, a lot actually. It's possible that Jim's death prompted him to visit me. It was nearing Uncle's 60th birthday and since Jim died at 61 he must have been considering his mortality. Maybe he wanted to get out of town and enjoy himself a little. He is a truck driver for Coca Cola with long hours and a horrific work load. He always takes overtime if they have it, and due to my grandmother's demands and lifestyle, he rarely has time to himself.

We did all the touristy stuff: whale watching tour, Boeing factory tour, WNBA game, Snoqualmie Falls, buying fruit at Pike's Place, and I tried to get him to eat sushi but it was a definite no. I even waited patiently and made suggestions while he tried on shoes. (something I have done for many men, you impatient ungrateful fuckers) It was nice to get at least a little time in beautiful nature after all the stress of the funeral, but Uncle caused me some stress as well.

This uncle is alone and awkward just like Jim was, but he has a job and a gym membership which automatically make him more social and healthy, and slightly easier to be around. Slightly. He is hugely high maintenance. He smacks your arm each time he says an sentence, he doesn't know how to order food off a menu, he doesn't know how to operate a laundry machine, he doesn't know how to book a hotel room, he doesn't know about etickets, he doesn't know how to politely ask for help; he simply makes demands, and he is an extreme chauvinist pig.

We got into an argument regarding Jim and his home. I was telling him of what a mess the place was and how shocked we were that he lived like that for years. His response was simple:

It's because he didn't have no voman.

Are you kidding? If he was married she would have been a slave.

I have dis theory that voman is supposed to do voman's work and a man do man's work.

But if you live alone, it's all your work.

Why he own a home then? Too much for one person.

That doesn't make sense. If he cared he would have taken care of it. Housework is every one's work anyway.

Housework is voman's domain. You can't go into a voman's kitchen and touch anything. Kitchen is for voman. Man is supposed to do jobs like paint the house.

But housework needs to be done every week, you don't paint the house every week! Besides anyone can paint a house, what's the difference!

Come on! Aviva you're not gonna get dirdy. (he laughs)

What are you talking about? I helped Dad paint their place and I'm going to help him with Jim's.

We'll see about dat. I paint something every year, house needs a lotta maintenance. You gotta fix something every year.

Well I agree, but Jim could have done several simple things all the time to avoid living in filth! It's not that hard to get rid of dust or sweep once in a while. Why couldn't a man do that?

He shoulda clean car on weekends. I clean da car. Cleaning car is man's responsibility.

Ok but it doesn't take all day to clean a car.

Oh I can take all day ona car! You should see how nice I fix da car!

With Uncle there always comes a point where a gunshot to the face would be more welcome than continuing a conversation with him. I endured many hours of "men are like this and women are like that" conversations with him over that week, which I can't comprehend. It made me think that people who live their lives without a companion miss out on too much. He either watches too much tv, or spends too much time with my grandma and his brain warped.

At some point he noticed that Seattle is very gay friendly. He argued with me about how two people of the same sex couldn't be proper parents because one person needs to be a mom and one needs to be a dad. This kind of shit makes me want to jump off a building. I tried to explain that I don't believe in many assigned gender roles and he totally didn't get it. I also pointed out that women raise kids alone without a man all the time, and he just thought that was wrong too. I guess you can't get into a head like this.

What you can do is avoid politics if at all possible and talk about weather and food and airplanes and basketball. I feel like I did the right thing overall. He is a lonely awkward guy and at least I took a week out of life to help him have a real vacation.

This was a good lesson for me too. The books I wanted to send Uncle Jim popped into my head for a reason. It was an opportunity to do something nice for someone, even if he might not have appreciated it. I feel like when you get a chance to do something nice you might as well do it, otherwise why did the thought cross your mind at all? It will make you feel better as a person and you never know where either of you will be in a few months anyway.

A Funeral

2011-11-17T22:51:00.000-08:00

I don't know how a funeral goes from this:

To this:

But it did. I guess the recipe is: take a bunch of women who didn't care for the man who passed away but loved him anyway due to all the men in their lives, stir in the fact that they don't even like each other, and add alcohol. Voila!

2011-10-23T20:37:00.000-07:00

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my godoh my god oh my god oh my god oh my godoh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

It's Not The Tailor

2011-09-29T08:43:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I had a pair of dress pants shortened. To my dismay, the tailor had made one side longer than the other and I didn't know if I should go back and complain or what. I had already worn them out a few times and didn't notice the difference in legs until I was standing in a full length mirror months after the job was done.

Awareness was something often brought up during my yoga teacher training. It's funny how often conversations with friends lead to the topic of awareness. Most people are not emotionally intelligent or aware of themselves at all. I might as well say that none of us are really. And it's funny that we don't notice things or bother with self observance unless something is pointed out, and then we deny it anyway. Is it really anyone's job to point things out in the first place?

In yoga training we spent every afternoon discussing anatomy. Unfortunately much of the discussion went completely over my head. It felt like we were discussing things better suited for chiropractors and physical therapists. I looked forward to learning about anatomy, but this was really hard and I didn't know how to apply it. I get that we want to be aware of people's injuries and give alternate poses for those in pain, but the specifics of an injury and how to tell if someone has it seemed strange to me.

Each day we did a posture lab in class where the instructor picked out a few students and everyone watched them do a pose. We offered suggestions to make it better then watch the transformation, often times resulting in oooohs and aaahhhhs from the class. A pose I was called up for was Utkatasana, or commonly referred to as chair pose. The problem was that I was going into it with a deep sway in my low back since I thought we were supposed to sort of reach for the sky as we take a deep hamstring stretch. Nope. The torso has to move in one piece and stay in line with the hips. Ah ha. I didn't mind that everyone made a circle around me and commented on what my body was doing, until one comment.

A guy in class said that he could see I was twisted and one arm reached out longer than the other. I had no idea what he was talking about. He asked if he could move my arms while I was in the pose, and I could not believe how much he moved me so that I was "straight," or "aligned," as we like to say. The instructor said that I am a person with a curvature in the spine and that everyone should come look. They all stood behind me and commented on things I couldn't see. I didn't get angry but it was weird. I couldn't get how a bunch of yoga practitioners were determining what was wrong with my body.

Luckily the instructor said that for someone with a curvature like this, it isn't helpful to give them that kind of adjustment. If my arms are being pulled away from where they naturally go, then I automatically move my pelvis creating yet another unhealthy curve. She also had all of us stand in a circle and look at each other's shoulders reminding us that we are all a bit skewed and it's not a big deal.

A few days later we were deep into anatomy and again I had no idea what the hell people were talking about. I was completely lost and zoning out, when a thought occurred to me. If we know all the ins and outs of carpal tunnel, are we supposed to tell someone that they probably should get checked for it? All the manuals say that we are never to diagnose or give advice, but here we are learning all the things that are wrong with people, and learning how to delicately say something. I raised my hand and asked why it would be appropriate for a yoga instructor to point out something about the student's anatomy. I am not comfortable with this. My point was that just coming to yoga itself is an act of wanting to learn about your own body and if injuries or strange occurrences come up, you can then go talk to your doc about it.

The classmate who pointed out my crookedness immediately wanted to know if I was upset by his comments and suggestions. I said that I wasn't but I honestly didn't see how it was useful. So I'm crooked, so what? I told the class that I had a yoga instructor that told me she could see one side of my body was higher than the other in my down dog, and I thought so what? I mean you can see something that someone else doesn't, but what am I supposed to do with that information? Run out and get an MRI? Chiropractor? Freak out?

The discussion then turned from what I was trying to point out to people's emotional health and how we have to be careful of what we say so they don't get angry or hurt. I couldn't believe it. I wasn't trying to attack anyone, I just don't know how helpful it is for someone who isn't a doctor to tell a student: hey you have this going on, did you know? I tried to reiterate but there seemed to be a consensus that yes, it was our job to make people more aware. A yoga teacher has the ability to help people gain awareness of their body and connect the mind to the body, and that it is a cornerstone of this practice.

Well, I'm not telling anyone that they might want to get anything checked out, that is up to them. I feel that the awareness teachers are hoping their students gain will happen by default. The more you challenge your body the more you find out what your limitations are. My motto in teaching yoga is going to be that I won't tell anyone how to live their life.

The weirdest thing in all of this is that I guess I forgot about the spinal curvature. I'm sure my parents have funded a couple years of golf club memberships for my chiropractors and physical therapists. In high school I suffered with extreme back pain, but with a few lifestyle changes I can walk and dance and do yoga and I'm fine. A long time ago, I figured that this was going to be as good as it gets. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do about it now if I don't feel bad.

But don't I feel bad? Sitting in an office all day gives me sharp low back and leg cramps. This doesn't happen on a regular basis to most people I know. I always thought that I just hated sitting all day, but there is an actual physical response. My body is rejecting the position due to the spine's movement. What a lightbulb. I never noticed this before but I lean heavily to my left, and am probably never sitting with both shoulders aligned. Since figuring this out I mindfully push over to my right more so there is less pressure.

Would I have realized this if not for the discussion in yoga? Chances are that I would have over time, but it's good to know. Lately I've been a little upset and paranoid about it, but we are all walking around with things wrong with us. When I have more money I could try rolfing or something to straighten out more. Getting upset about one boob being lower than the other or how I will look as an old lady isn't worth it. I'll just have to take calcium and embrace crookedness. From now on, both pant legs have to be measured instead of using the guide from one. It's not the tailor, it's me.

Dear Friends

2011-09-27T21:16:00.001-07:00

I know you mean well.

Is it possible that because I talk openly and honestly about myself that you feel like you should give advice?

I don't need it. I am great. Some set-backs have occurred. Several really. I am the broke Bridget Jones. That's fine. She was super adorable in both the book and movie.

It's nice of you to say things because you read some article that you think will help me, or because you had some friend somewhere that had a terrible experience doing something that I wanted to do.

But come on.

The facts are that maybe you didn't know me when there was less confusion and there were solid goals with achievable possibilities. Or maybe you didn't believe in what I was doing then anyway. I tried hard and it didn't work out.

And then I took on other things that I thought would help.

And then I tried to do something completely different because I believed I deserved to be successful somewhere. And then I panicked and was disappointed in the circumstances.

But I will be honest again and say that your discouragement doesn't help either. You may not realize you are discouraging but several of you say things like: "teachers don't make any money." " law school is soooo expensive." "there aren't any jobs for lawyers." "there aren't any jobs for MBAs." "there aren't any jobs for teachers." "journalism is dead." "liberals arts is for yo yos and flakes." "what's the point in more school anyway?" "you shouldn't go into that field unless you're 100% sure you want it." "I wouldn't take anything for less than X amount of money." "there are too many graphic designers now." "there aren't any jobs there aren't any jobs there aren't any jobs."

It may seem like some of these comments are helpful, but no one is ever 100% sure on a decision. There are doubts about everything. Why feed the demons that stop people from giving themselves a chance? And so what if there aren't any jobs that we are finding now? It won't always be that way. And you might have to move or really stretch the original idea out to get paid doing what you want. Or you might have to accept abysmally low pay.

And by the way, guess what else is expensive besides education? EVERYTHING. Everything is stupidly expensive from buying birth control to raising a child. From buying groceries to running a restaurant, it's all ridiculous costs. It's not a good reason to avoid doing what you want. I definitely have learned that one over time.

It's no one's fault but mine that I refuse to accept lousy circumstances for myself and have been unemployed and frustrated many times over. But I am taking chances. Sometimes they end up very bad, but someday they will be very successful. It will have been useful to go through these areas of disaster and growth.

And no, I do not want your help with my resume or LinkedIn. I have a career counselor from which I gain a lot of information. In addition, I recently went to an informational interview with an HR director who gave me opposing information from the career counselor. That would mean that you probably do not know better than I, since no one has the right answer. I think LinkedIn is unhelpful for my current circumstances anyway. This may change, but if I don't want to be an administrative professional, then why would I create a profile saying I am one?

I dare say, most of you are sitting behind a desk possibly getting a fatter ass, and just wondering what it would be like if you gave yourself the chance to do something different, or talking yourself out of it altogether. Or you are reading articles and deciding that you know a lot about a field you are not in, or have not experienced. I don't think it's fair to decide you know something about a friend's road if you haven't traveled it.

I do know people that have gained success in fields that people think are a wasted effort. A friend of mine just landed a role on a network sit com. An acquaintance opened a photography studio six years ago and is now doing better than ever. A travel friend I knew was a dancer in Riverdance. The lawyers and MBAs and teachers and small business owners that I know are doing ok, even if they do things differently from what they intended. And yes I know plenty of people unable to do what they want at all. I don't believe that anything they tried wasn't worth it.

So what is the point of putting down any field or degree or confusion or choice? The job market or the career decision might just be plain luck or good timing. Or it works out because you successfully went after something specific and didn't give up until you got it. If things didn't work out then there is plan B, C, D or whatever you end up on.

If there is anything I learned from temping at an advertising firm this year, it's that there are some incredible salaries out there for people who got their foot in the door of the right place. There are also some stupidly inflated salaries for arbitrary positions in which the value of said position could evaporate in a moment's notice.

I'm sorry to get on the defensive because I know that I whine and am easily disappointed. But it's ok to listen and relate rather than discourage. It's all going to work out anyway.

Yesterday I made an onion tart with apples on top and it turned out unbelievably disgusting. So I threw the whole thing in the garbage and laughed it off. I can make it better next time.

Yes sir.

2011-09-27T20:16:00.000-07:00

I am a writer. I am a writer. I am a writer. I am a writer. I am a writer. I am a writer.

2011-07-17T23:30:00.001-07:00

WHAT A CROCK OF SHIT.

Oh my goodness

2011-06-18T21:13:00.001-07:00

Yoga yoga yoga.

The Funny Thing

2011-05-24T16:58:00.001-07:00

I haven't written much lately because somehow blogger deleted an entire post I had saved in the drafts and I wanted to kill. Oh well whatever, with every loss comes a gain.

I actually love to write about unfortunate events with my self deprecating comedy, or fury in the case of the lawsuit and uncle posts. It's probably a good thing that I can find funny things in these situations after releasing them into writing. But I suppose it's too bad that I haven't written much about the great things. And it's really too bad that friends worry I am suicidal or homicidal or somehow insulted them. I'm not sure if what I should be doing now is posting pictures of a turkey burger I made from scratch or what. I felt like a turkey burger. So I made one. Next week I will make a lentil burger with brown rice. Exciting.

Lately my pot smoking neighbors are stinking up the hallway so much that I wonder if I should say something or just ask them for some. The sound of ambulances passing the window at all hours is nightmarish. And my building manager shared too much of his private life with me and now when I pass him, I see visions of it in my mind. This is exactly why I never wanted to live in large apartment complexes. There are definite benefits which I am learning about, but all these little things make me a little nuts. I like quiet. I like having to deal with only a few people. On the bright side, I never hear the upstairs neighbors, I almost always get laundry done when I need to, and it's easy. I don't worry about safety or maintenance ever. And the dishwasher has changed my life.

I recently found out that I did not get the 3rd job in a row that I really wanted. Of course I am disappointed, but these occurrences have made space for me to take a yoga teacher training program this summer. The funny thing about this is that any financial analyst in their right mind would not advise me to do this now, but there you go. I did it anyway. Somehow I have a feeling that in the long run, this will be a worthwhile investment. I am so done taking advice from anyone I know anyway. I don't want their lives. I still want this one even if it's a little fucked up.

And speaking of these job losses, come on. Were they crazy? Someone was better than me for the job? Impossible. I am awesome. I am a spectacular assistant, tutor, teacher, trainer, admin, etc. What the hell were they thinking not hiring me? I prioritize well at work, I ask for projects when I don't have any, I try to be involved more and assist even in the stupidest shit like carrying equipment or cleaning off some asshole's desk. I'm a riot; even when I am having a bad day I can be funny. And when I can't deal with people, I try not to bother anyone. I am respectful even to those I can't stand, and I am nice to a fault.

The funny thing about my previous experiences and disappointment in them is that I am now certain that I was too nice to everyone. I may not have been the most professional employee until the last two years or so when I finally got it. Over time I became more focused and dedicated and professional. I might not have been the best receptionist or accounts payable person, but I've learned from mistakes. I think. Still, I am sooooooo nice to all the mother fuckers in my life it is ridiculous. And that includes friends, drinking buddies, family, acquaintances, and lovers. I am tooooo nice.

I was harassed nearly every day at a job in Chicago and everyone said that I was lucky to have it. Why? A manager there told me that she received complaints from my co-workers that I was doing too many things at once, and that I shouldn't have been rushing around the office trying to help a customer. I wasn't supposed to rush around the office looking for things. That was what managers do, and I wasn't a manager was I? Did I think I was a manager? Because I wasn't. I wasn't no manager and I shouldn't be thinking I'm better than the ladies who worked there for 20 years. I must have slept with the director of the agency to get the job anyway. I didn't have any talent they needed. Who was I to think I was entitled to a desk?

Yes, I admit to making bad judgement calls and decisions in some cases, but after a lot of speculation I've determined that it's not me, it's them.

It's definitely them. When I get upset or disappointed in a relationship, whether it is personal or professional I immediately think it's all my fault. I did this wrong, I did that wrong, I am the common denominator, I am a total loser, I disappointed the person that got me a job, I disappointed my grandma, I disappointed my friends, etc. Right off the top of my head I can think of 5 people that I am no longer friends with and have agonized over why anyone wouldn't want to be friends with me. I am finished thinking that way. If anyone wants to leave a relationship with me, hallelujah. Either I burned a bridge or they are a dip shit or both. Every ending brings a new beginning.

What kind of moron wouldn't want to be friends with me anyway? How many people do you know that get themselves into the hilarity and hi jinx that I do? Just today I was reminded that I once auditioned for a murder mystery theater for fun. A while ago I was reminded that after listening to the advice of a gay friend, I put an ad up on craigslist requesting the perfect man. This is how he found his husband so surely I would too. Expecting to receive a series of penis pictures, I was pleasantly surprised at how many responses of well wishes I received. "I'm too old for you, but I love what you wrote and I hope you find him."

I posed in the nude for a photographer in Chicago many years ago. We settled on a deal where my head would not be connected to my body in any photo he displayed in a gallery so that the whole me couldn't be seen. It was supposed to be "war like" shots in which all manner of horrors were coming at me. I preferred to pose with classical music on, but he preferred classic rock. Somehow the music choice cheapened the experience for me. I did this twice and never again. Still, he had said that I would be invited to his openings, and I never received the information.

I take it back. I have posed 2 other times for 2 other photographers. One was naked on the beach in Greece and the other was with a friend for a specific project. I was to receive copies of the Greece photos but did not. The other project was just a couple years ago. I drank an entire bottle of wine during the experience and have no idea how my boobs got out, but they did. These photos I own, but have never looked at them.

In high school I kept my weed smoking devices strapped to my bra since my mother was fond of searching my room. I didn't have any place to hide it except on my body and people must have wondered what those lumps were about.

Once I auditioned for a solo piece in a ballet that I really wanted. At the time I was assisting with teaching dance to very little girls, and the bitch Russian instructor thought she should knock me down to size. She had me audition right there in front of all those little girls, when I hadn't really memorized the timing or routine yet. I went into it knowing I was going to fuck up and heard the girls laughing at me throughout, especially when I couldn't hit the grand jete properly.

So you see? People are missing out. I must learn to un-attach myself from embarrassments and disappointments and shit people. Embrace the hilarity and ridiculous and failures. You don't want this in your life? Too bad for you.

WTF

2011-05-14T23:44:00.001-07:00

I don't know how this happened but I wrote a ton of shit and it got deleted. What the fuck blogger?

10/ Dream

2011-05-04T10:57:00.000-07:00

I dreamed that I set off pop rocks outside of the apartment entrance, which caused a massive fire all over town. I had to get to work to find out what was going on, but we came to a house on fire and went inside. There my grandma and my boss Lisa were inside, totally unaware of the massive fire eating one side of the house. We decided to keep it cool and not tell them so they wouldn't get scared, but we had to get them out of the house. And once we did that they were shocked but I had to go and couldn't comfort them. The fire raged everywhere and I walked away.

9/And Then

2011-04-27T10:06:00.001-07:00

My Uncle Jim went to the emergency room for congestive heart failure.

Since Elizabeth Taylor had just died days earlier, I figured this was it.

It was also the very same week that my dad had been rejected from 3 jobs, one of which was with a recruiter for the company that laid him off over a year ago. Assholes. He managed to get a job as an election judge in the suburbs when he got the call that Jim needed to be taken to the hospital. He stayed in the hospital with Jim from 11pm to 7am the next day, which was when he was due at this job. Clearly it wasn't going to happen.

Uncle Jim goes to the free hospital for people that don't have health insurance, or are destitute, or in a bad situation, or just a mess. He is all of the above, and despite his staunch conservative stance on everything, he believes he is entitled to free health care. This particular hospital often runs out of beds or out of space altogether. After my dad got back and had a rest, he called there to find out about Jim, but was told he was still in emergency. Dad freaked out, drove all the way back to find Jim was really just resting in the hallway since there were no available rooms.

I was told that Uncle Jim remained in good spirits but would not divulge the true status of his health to my father, despite being listed as his emergency contact. He seemed to think the whole thing was no big deal. My dad asked nurses to explain what was going on but no one was allowed to give him info. He could speak to a doctor, but they were extremely difficult to pin down even for a moment. The nurses were prepping Jim for a bone marrow test which freaked Dad out even more. What was it for? No one would tell him anything.

I think Dad was in a state of shock about the whole thing. He said he couldn't even recognize his own brother. Jim looked like he was 80 years old, but is only 62. Jim could barely walk from one side of the room to the other. And the biggest shock was that Jim had let his teeth go so bad that he recently had the entire bottom set pulled, and had yet to get dentures.

Not one of us understands how Jim lives his life. He is an isolationist that hasn't worked in over 15 years and is a general mother fucker. He had a heart attack in his early forties, despite his rather lean physique. He smoked something like 2 packs a day until he supposedly quit. After the bypass surgeries he refused to return to work, claiming that he couldn't be expected to function normally. He has an addiction to whiskey and chocolate. He hates everyone except Irish Catholics and is therefore impossible to be around. And he has type 2 diabetes. Fun guy.

Uncle Jim is the person I consider the Chief Asshole of the family. He is rude beyond comprehension, racist to the core, and a woman hater on top of everything. He used to call my mother: "Dumb Dora," to her face and run his finger underneath light fixtures to point out the dust. When I was little he came over to my parent's apartment to watch porn since he was too cheap to by his own VCR. My parents caught him one night when he was still there at 3am and told him never to bring that shit over again. My mother only shared that with me years later because I went through a period where I felt terribly sorry for him, thought he must be quite lonely. That was until he let me drink whiskey at his place before turning 21, and asked for "help" with his resume. His computer was in the basement and the so called resume was in a folder filled with porn pics. I freaked and got the hell out of there, thinking oh my god he's drunk and laughing about this and I was just in his basement what the hell.

I never went to his place again, but he would frequent the Italian restaurant where I worked. I gave him freebies now and then until I got worried that the owners would get mad. I also wanted him to go away after a while because he became demanding and blatantly stared at my female co-workers. I could tell he was making a few of them uncomfortable and had no idea what to do. Eventually I told him that nothing off the menu was going to be free, hoping that would deter him. One night he stayed very late at the restaurant, had too many beers, and slammed his drink down with his voice shaking and choking and yelled at me that no one gave a damn about him. No one cared a bit about him and he was alone in this world. He seemed like he might get violent so I stood up to get him some water. My heart raced and I tried to pretend like I could handle it. When I got home I cried and had to call my parents. Dad went over to Jim's place that night and told him to never come near me again and if Jim harassed me in any way, he would kill him.

About a year later, my cousin Brian was killed in a gruesome car wreck and the person to let me know was Uncle Jim. He called my apartment sobbing and sobbing and I was in such shock I didn't believe it was Jim on the line at all. Was it a joke? Didn't he call my dad first? I must have asked if he was serious about a hundred times until he screamed why are you asking me that? I told him not to leave the house and especially not to get into the car, assuming he drank. Then I had to break the news to my parents. Unfortunately I got Mom on the phone first who just started screaming and then I had to tell Dad the whole thing all over again. The weirdest thing about that call was that I had to say: "You know Brian? Brian my cousin/your nephew?" since our family barely speaks at all.

After the funeral in Tuscon I rekindled that "I feel bad/guilty about Jim" feeling. He didn't have anyone to grieve with or fly over there with or have lunch with or share a pint with or anything. It's awful. I don't think he attends a church or has any social life whatsoever. Christmases go by, New Years Eve goes by, and his birthday goes by without even a phone call. Yes, he has another brother but he is Chief Asshole # 2 so I don't think they have much of a relationship either. I started sending Jim Christmas gifts since then. He hasn't ever thanked me but maybe that is because he no longer has my number. I'm ok with that.

I don't know how society makes men like him but I assume it has something to do with religion or general awkwardness socially, which was encouraged by family not fought against. I often thought that my grandmother must have poisoned him with ideas of her oldest son resembling John Wayne in The Quiet Man. My dad told me that Jim's best friend and basketball buddy in high school was Jewish, until my grandmother meddled telling him how awful the Jews are. When I was around 9 years old, I remember Jim asking me what I thought the blacks ever did for this country. I couldn't understand the question at all so I asked my mom why he said that. She explained that my grandmother had very serious prejudices against everyone, so that is how Jim learned to hate as well. She told me never to listen to that kind of garbage and I wasn't allowed around him unsupervised after that. I don't know how on earth a person with those kinds of beliefs gets to live long enough to be treated for congestive heart failure.

As for the awkwardness around women, who will ever know. I've encountered men that I'll never understand how on earth they came to think and behave the way they do. Did something go terribly wrong in their childhood? Did no one ever explain that women are equals? Or that it's ok to get rejected sometimes? I feel awful that Jim is so alone, and sometimes think it isn't all his fault that he is completely fucked up.

Then again, when my dad is sitting in the hospital with Jim who doesn't give a damn and carries expectations of assistance, I have other feelings. Whenever Dad said something very reasonable to Jim like: "You should probably give me a key to your place so that I can check in on you," Jim ignored him, pretending the sentence never happened. You've got to think, FUCK THAT GUY and I did. Instead of concerning myself with Jim's health I only was concerned with the stress of it all on my dad. I felt that if this is it, so be it. Let's let him go.

I imagined what it would have been like if he passed on. How would we deal with the family? Would we be in charge of everything? Does he even have a will? Dad didn't know. Would I go crazy and punch my uncle Tony in the face? Would I tell him what a piece of shit he is?

Jim ended up being released from the hospital a week later and I found myself filled with rage and fury. How dare he put my dad in this situation and not give a shit??? Who wants to take care of a mother fucker that allowed his health to deteriorate to that extent?? I DON'T. I told my mom that she better not go over to his apartment with food. It's his fucking problem. She agreed and said that he will have to get himself a maid or caretaker. (what a lucky person that will be) He is not our problem unless we get another hospital call.

I talked to my grandmother about my feelings and her advice was to call him. What? But he's so mean. I can't. She said something so beautiful I could barely stand it:

Vhen person is very very hard, zhen you be the softehr.

I told her I'd think about it.

But I haven't called and I doubt that I will. Sometimes the softer and nicer you are, the more you become a doormat. I don't know how many more times I can deal with his attitude. The last time I saw him was at my dad's 60th get together and he asked if I was getting fat, which is his standard greeting. My uncle on my mom's side didn't put up with that shit and asked if Jim was getting sickly thin. It didn't go over well.

It's weird when you decide you're ok with someone leaving this world. It will happen eventually and surely it will happen sooner with a person in this condition. Dad said that maybe Jim will outlive us all and I told him to bite his tongue. I also asked if he was certain that they are really brothers. Could one of them have been switched a birth? He laughed but it was obvious that he felt pain. He said that we'll end up finding out from the neighbors if Jim has passed on, and I could tell he has an extreme fear about it. There isn't anything we can do about the way he chooses to live his life.

I've read many articles about how forgiveness is key in these situations. I don't want to dwell or linger on the negatives. My dad always says that the hardest thing to do in this life is accept people the way they are. I just wish all of this was easier on him. TV and movies always have stories about forgiveness and compassion. You end up taking care of the person who has wronged you and become a better person for it. I don't think I could take care of Jim. He has made his choices. I wish him to have less discomfort and to find a way to like himself more. Surely the only reason people self destruct is because they hate themselves.

8/The Shmuck Who Sued Me

2011-04-22T23:10:00.001-07:00

4 days later, I had to take part in a two hour arbitration over the phone.

What I've learned from this whole episode is that that our legal system and many of the related jobs involved exist because of what I like to call The Ring of Bullshit. Example: an event occurs, police are called, witnesses give statements, police write up a report, insurance companies examine, insurance companies give estimates, they pay each other whatever they come up with, they allot money for people to get to the doctor, and then we're done....until...

I assume that The Shmuck who sued me defaulted on his mortgage or didn't have health insurance to cover some problems. How could he make some extra money? Well, he did get into that fender bender with Aviva O'Byrne. Maybe if he filed a suit in the last hour of the last day before the statute of limitations was up, he could disrupt my life just enough to make a few thousand.

Only, he didn't ask for a few thousand. He asked for 46 thousand. This fender bender apparently caused him to need a gall bladder surgery.

The events were these: We were stopped at a red light, I was about 4 cars away from the front of the line. The first car in line started to go, but then abruptly stopped, so we all stopped. When we all started to go again, the first car changed his mind again and took a left turn from our middle lane, rather than than the actual turning lane next to us. So, the second car slammed on his brakes which caused the car in front of me to crash into him and since I couldn't see what was going on, I was unable to stop until I saw his car shake and the heard the noise of the crash. Of course I couldn't stop in time and I bumped him.

Police were called, we were all able to get back into our cars and pull into a strip mall parking lot, we all talked. The guy in front of me admitted to the police that he hit the other car before I hit him. We were both issues warnings; not tickets due to the circumstances. I felt that the guy in front of me wanted to intimidate me further. He kept asking me questions about my little Corolla and stated that it was clearly totaled. I said it didn't look that bad to me, but he insisted that due to the age, they were just going to trash my car and offer me the difference. I hoped and prayed that he was wrong but admit that his demeanor made me extremely nervous. I said that I didn't think it was that big of an accident. He said that I hit him pretty hard but not to worry, he won't sue. The guy was being totally inappropriate so I decided to walk away from him and deal only with the police. No ambulance was called, and we all drove away.

The insurance companies took care of everything within a week, and my healthy little Corolla still works to this day. I love that car.

However, since The Shmuck needed to support his lawsuit, he changed the events to suit him, hence the Ring of Bullshit commences. The lawyer took his case on a contingency. My lawyer did not believe that he was going to be able to get away with the gall bladder stuff, but expected us to have to pay him something because of the fact that I did hit him. He bothered to go through with this, therefore he gets money. As if we didn't need more evidence that people are assholes. She expected the case to go to trial since they were unwilling to accept the offers our side gave, but his lawyer must have advised him not to push it. She figured they'd have better luck with an arbitration.

Police reports are not admitted as evidence due to not being done under oath, and the police officer not needing a witness to his own report. The only evidence the lawyers have to go on are the pictures the insurance company took and our statements. Since I gave my deposition 3 years after the accident, I wasn't confident that I made myself clear. My lawyer told me that his claim of the events were that I hit him so hard his enormous minivan was throttled into the car in front of him, despite the bumper to bumper traffic on the road. He had said that the front end of my car was completely underneath his, and that I had totaled his car. He just wasn't willing to give up his car until 2 years later. WHAT? How can he possibly get away with such accusations? No ambulance was called, everyone walked away! His car was totaled 2 years later but it was still my fault? I remember some lights being broken and a little fender damage on his car and that was it.

I asked my lawyer how we accept legal lying, and she said that his lawyer has to believe he is telling the truth. It seemed to me that people in this line of work must know about the lying and coach their client, and they know it's wrong. They want to keep this cycle going so several people have jobs, all based on bullshit. My lawyer was never able to get in touch with the man in the first car that was hit, so we didn't have much to go on. They eventually dropped the gall bladder issue, but kept the money claim high due to lengthy chiropractor visits. I just didn't believe that he was hurt at all, or that he deserved any money. I kept asking why it didn't matter that he never made a medical claim until the very very last minute and just went straight to a lawsuit??? She said it totally didn't matter and he was within his rights, no matter how ridiculous the claim.

She felt the judge would have to be a total idiot to award him a great sum of money. She found out that his chiropractor was not board certified and he had been seeing her for years prior to the accident. He used to be a contractor...hello?...so he probably was injured on the job quite a lot and the chiropractic visits couldn't have all been related to the accident.

I could have attended court, and I intended to just so the judge would see with his own eyes who the more credible witness was. But, after all the flying and running around I had done in March, I requested that we do it over the phone. I also worried that should I see him, I would surely murder him right there with the power of my thoughts.

The arbitration lasted 2 hours and was officially 5 years after the accident. I had to listen to this asshole and his fantasy story. He said that after the accident he grabbed his yarmulke before exiting his vehicle and I nearly busted out laughing. This guy that I saw in jeans and a Cubs hat all of a sudden found religion in time for court? Thank you Skokie. He said that due to being unemployed for a long period of time.. (hello!)...he recently took on a job as a Shomerim, which are the people who sit with the dead and sing them songs and keep the body company before a funeral. He explained the significance to the judge and five minutes into this whole thing, I realized I would have strangled him right then. What a fucking asshole. Is lying a lesser offense when you're doing it in the name of religion? Is it more legal to lie when you've convinced everyone that you are religious?

He went on with his preposterous story and even claimed that when I got out of the car I was so distraught, that I said, "I can't believe I did this again!" A total fabrication, especially since I had never been in an accident like this. When it was my turn the judge actually asked me if I said that and I was insulted that he would even think it's a worthy question. I wanted to yell out He's Lying! He KNOWS he hit the other car first! I held it in and did as good of a job as I could. His lawyer questioned me about whether I saw the damages to his car and I said that I had, but it was all very minor. She then asked if I was an expert on car value and of course I said no. What a low blow. I nearly yelled: "and neither are you bitch", but I managed to maintain myself in a calm manner.

What ended up happening was that The Shmuck claimed to have never visited the chiropractor before, but my lawyer submitted proof that he had. His lawyer had never seen that evidence and asked for it to be dismissed. (again the ring of bullshit) The judge allowed it, but it was clear that the chiropractor had fixed the dates and information to support The Shmuck's claim. Nevertheless, the judge felt that some of the injuries were related to the fender bender, and a week later The Shmuck was awarded 19 thousand dollars for lying.

I have to admit extreme stress and disappointment on a moral level throughout that whole week. I couldn't believe how easily lying brings rewards, and it's all legal. I couldn't imagine what woud have happened if it was a real accident with real injuries and scary stuff. What would happen then? My mom said not to even think about it. This is what insurance is for anyway. If they have to pay The Shmuck, they have to pay. 19 thousand is pennies to them. It doesn't reflect poorly on you. She said to take heart in the fact that he will get his. Even my grandma weighed in saying that she hopes for every dollar he won in this case, he gets as many warts on his behind. I didn't know she was capable of such evil thoughts.

So, good luck to The Shmuck out there. Surely he is in for it. And surely all this turmoil will make me appreciate the gigantic success I will be someday so much more.

7/ Next

2011-04-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

Seeing as how I merely had a few temp jobs before returning to Chicago for the NU interview, I had absolutely no idea where my next paycheck was coming from after the wedding and I was petrified. I contacted the agency I previously worked with and left a message. Hours later while I was walking around, a recruiter called and said that she had something. It was a customer service job for $14.75 and hour but she couldn't just place me, I'd have to interview.

The interview was set for the next day at noon and the address was emailed to me. I asked her if it was downtown, but she was unfamiliar with the address. After checking directions she said all I'd have to do is get on the 99. Ok, but I don't have a car. Oh don't worry, it's on a bus line. Sure.

Once home I checked the directions and it seemed extremely far away. Too far for a measly temp customer service job. Mapquest and googlemaps had conflicting results as to how far the walk was once I got off the 2nd bus. I expressed my reservations to the recruiter on the phone the next day, but she encouraged me to check it out and then decide.

I left with plenty of time to get there but the 2nd bus ride took much longer than I thought it would. We passed an area of Seattle that I had never been passed before. After a while I wondered if I was still in Seattle at all. The bus driver kindly announced my stop and then asked if I knew where I was going. I said that my directions said to go back where we just turned and then go left. Someone on the bus piped up and said it was impossible. I should go back and to the right.

I followed his advice but I found myself to be the only pedestrian in a completely industrial area. There was no sidewalk with the amount of cars and trucks, it felt like I was on a highway. Once I came to the point where he said to go right, it didn't seem right to me. There was a DO NOT ENTER sign and several construction vehicles parked. I didn't see a building anywhere and I didn't think it was safe for me to be walking around alone in this lot.

Then I thought it was silly of me not to follow googlemaps so I went toward that direction. It brought me to a fence. A fence. Nervousness officially set in. It was windy, yet I was sweaty under the jacket and worried about the state of my appearance before this interview. I had begun to lose confidence about going through with this.

I called the recruiter who sounded concerned and she gave me the receptionist's number at the building. I still had time to get there for the interview but she gave me completely different directions. I had reservations about it the whole way, but followed it anyway. Once I was officially 15 minutes late for the interview and no closer to a building other than Subway, I called again. I told her the intersection I was at, and to my dismay I was at Marginal Way SW, not the Marginal Way S that I needed. She said I had quite a way to go.

So, I listened to her explain for a moment, but interrupted her to thank her and let her know that I was going home. When you lose all confidence for a job interview and also know that you are not going to deal with this commute AND you are late as hell, what is the point?

I called the recruiter back to let her know that I was lost and terribly sorry but I was going to have to pass on this one. She understood. BUT then I kept on talking. Somewhere between the Marginal Way SW and I think she didn't understand where I was.....I lost it. My voice cracked and I started to absolutely weep and I tried to hold it together, but instead said: AND THIS IS BULLSHIT! WHY DID YOU SEND ME HERE? I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I AM. I DON'T HAVE A SMARTPHONE. I AM LOST!

The recruiter kept her cool and sounded genuinely concerned, as maybe she should have known that it wasn't the most commuter friendly area. She asked if she should send me a cab but of course I couldn't afford it. I knew how to get back to the bus stop and it would be fine.

I waited nearly an hour for the bus and after arriving back in familiar areas, I went catatonic for the rest of the day. The experience wasn't worth it. Always go with your gut.

I had no idea what to do next.

6

2011-04-17T21:56:00.000-07:00

Within one week I had gone from Chicago to Seattle to Minneapolis to Orlando to Tampa to St. Petersburg and the final leg had come. The day after the wedding we were to get on another plane and head back. I desperately did not want to leave. We had a few hours to enjoy the sunshine outside and it was never going to be enough.

I must face the facts: I am a warm weather person. I cannot live where there is no sunshine or where there are blizzards. My destiny in a warm climate awaits me and everywhere else isn't going to cut it.

Luckily the groom drove us all the way to the airport and probably saved us a ton of money. I complained that I didn't want to leave! He said that he had offered to help me settle there in Tampa many years ago, and I declined. It was true; I don't see myself in Florida, especially since the allergies were horrendous. But the sun! The sun! The warmth on my skin!

After an incredibly long journey back across the country, I wasn't well. Exhaustion took over my entire being. I don't remember much of anything after we boarded that plane in Houston. Our plane landed too late and we couldn't get the train, but to my surprise a friend came to pick us up. I thought I had dreamed it. On the way home, I kept thinking about the sandals I wore earlier in the day and never being in need of a jacket the whole weekend. I laid in the back of the car watching the rain on the windshield and wondered if I really wore a backless halter dress that morning. Was I just in a wedding the night before? Did I walk outside in a strapless dress without even a sweater? Was it all a dream? What am I going to do tomorrow?

5/ Wedding Daze

2011-04-13T09:55:00.000-07:00

And then there was the wedding.

I had never been in a wedding party before and there were many things that I felt a little out of the loop on. For example, there was the issue of timing. Time to do fun girlie things the day before, time to rehearse and meet everyone, time to get hair and makeup done, time to sit around while everyone else had their hair and makeup done, time to worry that you didn't look as nice in the dress as the other two bridesmaids, time to worry about falling down the stairs, time to make sure you smiled for the camera, time to dance, time to not look like a fool since your name was announced by the DJ and everyone knows who you are, etc.

I didn't realize just quite how long it would take for someone to do my hair or makeup, and I couldn't understand for the life of me why someone would want to attach fake eyelashes over my own. I was shocked at how many hours I had to sit around barely moving before my finished look was available to the world, and it was kind of odd that there wasn't any time for lunch or snacks. I believe the poor bride was so shocked at the timing for for her own hair that once finished, she promptly drank a Corona faster than anyone I had ever seen.

More drinking was to take place even when we were fully dressed and supposed to be ready for pictures. Wine was brought to our changing room, which was a shame since I was so worried about walking down stairs in heels, that I hardly touched mine. The bride however, drank hers, mine and another glass, along with a gooey chocolate chip cookie in order to calm the fuck down. I don't blame her. Still, my feeling was that I'd be ready for the drinking after I got down those stairs.

The ceremony worried me intensely because I felt like I was a floor model for this event. My sole purpose in this wedding was to look good. I was to look good walking down stairs, sitting with a candle in my hand and a rose bouquet in my lap, and walking back up the stairs, and then back down for the party. Oh my god was I nervous. I insanely checked for bunchy sections in my pantyhose and ways to stand so my arms looked thinner. Damn you fucking triceps!

The weird thing about three women wearing the exact same dress is that while everyone looked nice in them individually, standing next to each other you can see what's what. I was next to a lanky but beautiful 16 year old, and an absolutely gorgeous petite size 4. This made me terribly self conscious, a thought which hadn't really occurred to me until we were in that dressing room. All of a sudden, the dress that I helped pick out seemed completely unflattering on me. Sitting down was worse because it rode way up and nearly all of my legs were exposed. Thank god they're probably my best feature.

It was a strange experience all around for me. I didn't feel like I was particularly involved in any way shape or form, other than standing around looking pretty. I worried that I didn't do enough but also didn't know what else to do. The bride previously asked me to help her pick out music, but all I did was call and belt out: When A Man Loves A Woman or And I've Had The Time of My Life, clearly not taking the request seriously. One time I even texted her that Aerosmith song: And I Don't Want To Miss A Thing! I am a terrible friend.

The Maid of Honor decided that to be more involved, all three of us bridesmaids would stand up and say a few nice words speaking from the heart to the bride and groom. We were not asked to make a speech, but we felt it was the right thing to do. Clearly the right thing to do is to prepare what you're going to say ahead of time but oh well. Somehow, the Maid of Honor pulled out a beautiful story of their childhood growing up together and how she is so glad they still have each other. When she said that the bride made her a better friend and a better mother and so on, she started to choke, AND THEN SHE HANDED THE MIC TO ME.

What did I say about timing? Oh right. Timing was the problem. I started to choke as well right as she was saying those beautiful things. My brain had told me that when it was my turn, I would say these things:

The day before we were picking up the cake for the rehearsal dinner and the bride asked me what we should have them write on top of it. I suggested Love Is a Many Splendored Thing, which we didn't go with, but what a lovely thought to stay with us throughout the day. We're all here to celebrate love. In a conversation I had recently with the bride, she told me that if everything was all right at home and in their relationship, than everything else would be alright too. I admire the courage and commitment that love brings us to. Now that they have everything they need within each other, I want to wish them a lifetime of happiness. And so, I just want to say as a blessing from my culture: To the bride and groom, To Life! L'Chaim!

INSTEAD, my mouth said this:

Love is a hhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu many uuuuuuuuuu splendored thing......and it is. She told meeeeee........hhhhhhhh snifle snifle snifle that if everything is good at home everything hhhhhhhhhh sniffle (breathe out) would be fine. And now (look over at them making a ridiculous face at me) they have everything they need becauuuuuse they havvvve each other. (raise empty water glass) Aaaaaand so, I just want to say To Life, L'Chaim.

And I shoved the mic at her sister.

Oh my god the humiliation. I profusely apologized for this episode, but what's done was done. I normally do not ever get shy about speaking in front of a crowd, nor do I remember ever getting so emotional in front of that many people. I wish I could tell you that it was because of all the wine I drank, but no. I only had that half glass before the ceremony.

Not wanting to make a further spectacle of myself, I barely drank or danced that whole evening. I mostly ate strawberries off their beautiful edible center pieces. Luckily there was a photo booth that brought endless smiles and hilarity.

Normally my favorite part of any wedding is the dancing, but I can't say that I missed out too much. A year ago at the bride's brother's wedding, Uncle Alfredo had spun me around too much. She insisted that he is harmless, and while I admit that he was an excellent dancer, I was good to remain seated this time. Uncle Alfredo told my date that he has competition, and to check out the chi chis on the bartender.

It all went by too fast in my opinion because the food was marvelous, the place was beautiful, and they had the richest to die for cheesecake for desert. I'm glad I got to take part in this, and I hope I did a good job. There is more to this floor model thing than I realized.

4

2011-04-08T09:56:00.000-07:00

The very next day we were finally in Universal Studios to see the amazing Harry Potter exhibit. We went on silly rides that lasted 3 seconds, we waited in line for 90 minutes at a time, and at some point we were shot in the face by villans on the Spiderman ride.

We ate the following items: chicken strips, fries, a gigantic turkey drumstick, corn on the cob, churros, and pretzels. What a healthy day. Of course the best part was the butterbeer, eating in The Three Broomsticks, and buying candy in Honeydukes. This was an incredible spectacle and impressive business model, since even the retail stores had long lines to wait in. I've never seen anything like it. We intended to get on another ride but after a 45 minute wait in line for the wand shop, we were DONE.

And, I couldn't breathe. In addition to the cold I had in Chicago, my allergies had kicked in and I felt close to passing out a number of times. It's really irritating that my lungs and sinuses only seem to like Seattle and put up an impressive fight everywhere else.

After this long day we were picked up by my friend A, who drove us to Tampa where we would rest and get ready for her wedding rehearsal the next day.

3

2011-04-06T10:24:00.001-07:00

I guess you could say that United Airlines and I have parted ways. Once in Chicago, I tried to contact both Delta and United to switch around my trip to Florida so I wouldn't have to return to Seattle. Didn't work. Tuesday night I had a 9pm flight to Seattle, and the following morning I would be flying from Seattle to Minneapolis, then on to Orlando. I couldn't believe what a waste it all was. I was dreadfully frightened that this flight would be cancelled, and then I would lose money and buy tickets again and AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH. I intended to get to the airport and try to fly standby on an earlier flight, but couldn't make it. In fact, I was unwell. By that I mean both physically and mentally. I caught a cold in Chicago and generally felt down.

Did I do the right thing by interviewing across the country? Where was my next check coming from? How was I going to pay for everything during this trip?

My mom tried to soothe me as I packed for Florida. While she folded my most gorgeous yellow cleavage bearing halter top, she wisely explained that my priorities were the reason for all this confusion. I used to want to travel all the time and I did that. Then I wanted to move away and I did that. Now things are different and since I haven't found my road, I've got some turmoil. She made it seem like it's all no big deal. Eventually it will be clear and easy. My parents said that they couldn't stand to see me like this and offered to help me financially, which is ridiculous because they're broke. It was a nice gesture. Due to this emotional day, I didn't get to the airport in time to fly stand-by and would have to hope that there weren't problems on this flight. I checked flight status all day and it said on time, so I was reassured.

Once checked in, I went straight to the bar. One beer was enough to calm me down and be ready for another 4 hour ordeal. Arriving at my gate I noticed there weren't any attendants there yet. It was odd. Then I noticed how few people were at the gate and it was getting close to boarding time. I mentioned to the girl across from me that this flight seemed really empty, and she replied: "You must have missed the announcement. They just said we're delayed 3 hours."

I was dumbstruck. This meant that I would arrive in Seattle at 1:30am, and need to be back at the airport by 6am. I was stunned for about an hour, but thank goodness for friends and a charged phone. I was just going to have to deal and remain positive that all the other components to this trip worked out. I'm not one of those ungrateful people that flip off the flight attendants, like others did that night. I know just how lucky I am to be able to fly up in the air with a bunch of people and cargo, but to have two terrible airport experiences back to back has given me airline preferences. United and I are no longer a team. They don't deserve my money.

As it was, I got to lie in a bed by about 2:30am, and a cab came to get us at at 5:00am. I wrote in my journal that night that I never want to fly again. Wherever I end up, people are going to have to visit me.

We made it to the gross hotel in Orlando by 10:30pm eastern time and intended to go across the street to Universal Studios by 8am the next morning. Yeah right. We didn't get there until 11.

March Recap 2

2011-04-05T05:38:00.001-07:00

Since I was in the back of the plane, I was one of the last people to exit and therefore way in the back of the line to talk to a human in customer service. Despite having a cheery disposition for the duration of my eight hours in the airport, this was when I started to cry. How embarrassing. Standing in the back of the line crying without any tissue handy is just awful. People looked at me for a second and looked away. I wondered if this is where you cut your loses, decide that clearly the job at Northwestern isn't in the cards, or if since you made it this far do you keep trying?

What ended up happening is that United Airlines called me with an automated message explaining that they already put me on the 6am flight and I was good to go then, unless I'd like to talk to someone in customer service. Well, I wanted to talk to someone in customer service. They left a number at the end of the message which I luckily remembered correctly, and by some miracle, I got through to a human.

This human was sympathetic to my teary explanation and somehow replaced my United flight with an American Airlines flight, which was leaving in 15 minutes. While I was on the phone with her waiting for a confirmation number I had to make my way to the American gate, and I didn't know where it was. I asked a few people, hopped on a shuttle, then another shuttle and by some stroke of luck ended up at the right place. The attendant at the gate was nice and eventually contacted someone that gave her my voucher number, because of course, it didn't go through in time.

After arriving at the Seattle airport at 8am PST, I was finally in Chicago by 10:30pm central; a full and preposterous day. I planned on reading interview questions that night and preparing for the interview, but instead was dead to the world.

The interview went ok as far as I could tell. I didn't like that they were interested in me due to the previous government experience, and that this job would be quite similar. I also didn't like that this was merely step 3 in the process and there would be a computer assessment afterwards, and yet another round of interviews if I am called again. It's amazing that a simple admin job requires all this trouble. Still, to get to this stage in the game is pretty lucky. I am told that there are 200 applicants for every position at a place like Northwestern, so I must have done the right thing by jumping on this. If I'm not the right person for this position, at least HR knows that I tried. Again, you never know when life happens.

That night I watched Suze Orman's new special on PBS. I felt like she was talking through the television directly to me. She went on and on about how we didn't value work and weren't prideful about earning. We weren't honest with ourselves and with others about our finances and always stretch it to the limit when we shouldn't. This rang true to me. I wasn't being honest with anyone about money. The truth was that I couldn't afford to move to Seattle and I couldn't afford to have my own place in Chicago. I couldn't afford to only work part time at the yoga studio. I couldn't afford to be a bridesmaid and have a vacation at this time. I couldn't afford gifts I gave to my family and new interview clothes that I bought for myself. I definitely couldn't afford to be flying all over the country and I can't afford a car, which is becoming a needed item.

I joked with my family that night that I wished I could live on The Island of Aviva for just one year. An island which would have no ailing grandmother, no broke parents, no trips to Israel, no boyfriend, no weddings, no funerals, no births, no clothing stores, etc. Admittedly, this is a silly and selfish desire. A few months in and I would be lonely as hell anyway, wondering where my life went. Still, there are times where we want so badly to please others and be there for everyone else, that something slips for ourselves. I am afraid that by taking seemingly selfish steps, I would lose the support of those that have been most supportive. Yet, what will happen if I continue on like this?

The March Recap 1

2011-04-04T19:11:00.000-07:00

March was significant for me. I had a series of events which led to March being one of the busiest months of my life. I celebrated a birthday with good friends and fondue, pizza, cupcakes, etc, I interviewed for a job across the country from where I am currently living, I started a temp job, I was a bridesmaid in a wedding, I got lost on the way to another interview, and I was a defendant in an arbitration, which luckily I could participate in over the phone.

Much of this required flying around. I flew from Seattle to Chicago, from Chicago back to Seattle, from Seattle to Minneapolis, from Minneapolis to Orlando, from Tampa to Houston, and from Houston to Seattle. So much for watching my carbon footprint. If I had to fly back to Chicago for the arbitration I might have become homicidal.

Somehow turning 32 made me feel older. For the first time in a long time I feel older, like truly this age rather than the free spirited extended twenty something I was. When I got the call on my birthday that Northwestern wanted me to interview for a job I had a phone interview for a month earlier, and applied for 2 months previous to that, I felt like I should go. Surely this was the adult thing to do. What kind of idiot turns down an opportunity? I booked a last minute flight two days after my birthday and felt like I had done the right thing. You never know where opportunities come from. I joked with my mom that I should move to Israel, and then maybe I'll be offered a job in New Zealand. You never know when life happens.

And so despite being in Seattle for nearly a month and trying to regain a sense of life there, I found myself in the airport wondering just what would happen. I got there early, had a decent sandwich, and calmly read while waiting to board. Once on the plane and moments before departure we were told that there was an issue with the plane and a mechanic was called. It would be about 30 minutes.

After 30 minutes they said it would be another 45 because the mechanic was called away due to a family emergency, and they were now waiting on another one. They said that if we'd like to get out and stretch our legs we were welcome to.

I went out to use a bathroom and make a call or two. I was mostly in good spirits because I figured it was nice of them to let us out of the plane. As long as I got to Chicago that day, everything would be fine. It didn't matter how late we left. It was a non-stop flight, so I really couldn't complain.

In 45 minutes they said that they didn't know when we would be leaving and that we needed to get all of our stuff off the plane since we might get another one. I went back on to retrieve my backpack since I had only taken my purse. It was gone.

I told the staff that someone took my backpack and they insisted that I must have moved it. They helped me look for a minute, but I said, no someone took it. It's black, I'm sure 20 people on this plane have black backpacks. Couldn't they just make an announcement at the gate? They refused and said I would have to report it to customer service. What stupidity. Someone just took the wrong bag. I panicked for a mili-second, but realized that I would just have to stalk everyone out there. I eventually spotted it with a young girl who was mortified for grabbing it, especially since her dad took her backpack. What can you do.

They said we would be leaving at 2:30. Plenty of people had to re-book or cancel due to their connections after this flight, but they announced that anyone just going to Chicago was fine and not to worry. We were leaving at 2:30.

So I boarded at 2:15. Once everyone was buckled in and they told the flight attendants to prepare for take off, we sat for another 10 minutes.

And then they announced that the flight was cancelled. We could get on another flight the next day at 6am. That flight was not going to get me to Chicago in time for my 10am interview downtown. It was also already 5pm Chicago time and I was unable to contact anyone at Northwestern to make a change.

Suze Orman

2011-03-11T21:57:00.000-08:00

Apparently I am not standing in my truth. Shit.

Heart Opening

2011-03-07T20:32:00.000-08:00

Today I am 32 and for my birthday I wanted my boyfriend to attend a yoga class. Actually, he is starting an intro series this evening which I felt was meant to be. In the last year I have successfully convinced five people to attend class and I am currently working on three more. I believe.

Often birthdays and new years eve are times of reflection, and/or disappointment for the easily disappointed such as I. However, if I measured the years by my yoga practice then I have accomplished quite a lot. I've often thought of myself as having commitment phobia, but yoga has been with me for five years now. I took it even earlier then that but I hadn't yet formed the addiction.

Several poses have been my nemesis for years. Just the thought, "I can't do this," has stopped me from being able to. It's in the brain. Full wheel, Urdhva dhanurasana, or simply the backbend was something I thought of as an impossibility. One day I had an epiphany in class when I was lying on my stomach and easily lifted my chest and pulled my feet up into the air near my head. It's called bow pose, but isn't just an upside down backbend? If I can do this, surely I can do that.

I took a few workshops hoping that by 2011 I would backbend. One teacher described how a backbend clears the airways to creativity, and opens your heart to love and wisdom. I like that idea whether it's realistic or not. She had given out pamphlets about opening the heart chakra, and said the theme of the class was to relax into expansion. Specifically it said this: "..activating these energy centers allows ecstatic energy to flow into every part of your body. When ecstasy flows, it enhances every aspect of your life; sexual, spiritual, mundane, etc..."

Well, we know that I don't care for the New Agey spirituality stuff, but I liked the way she talked. She made me feel calm and focused and as if everyone in the world wanted this backbend to happen for me. Through a meditative technique I envisioned a rope sitting in my chest that was pulled up from an unknown hand and all of a sudden I could do it. In another workshop I imagined a blanket of warmth coming over my chest and a lightness in the upper back, which simply pulled me right up. I probably knew that I had the arm strength and just needed encouragement. We all come to do things we think we are incapable of sometimes, but the strength is there all along waiting for you to believe in it.

Whatever happens with all my various projects and cities and confusion, at least I know I have reached this goal. There have been several others that I've managed to reach through yoga and there are several yet to come - like the handstand that I am currently working on. It truly gives me a tangible means of success. I am now a 32 year old woman that can do a backbend and that makes me more accomplished, more wise, and more open than I was a year ago.

Shrimpy Wimpy

2011-03-01T22:21:00.000-08:00

While in the Pacific Northwest I can feel stress and weight lifted off my shoulders. That weird pain in my shins and feet from walking hills is nothing compared to the nice tightness in my calves and abs. All of a sudden I feel prettier, relaxed, and free.

A perfect day in Seattle includes a yoga class, a long walk, a writing session in a cafe, and a stop to the market for some fish. If I could work all this around a job/school schedule then I would be a very happy girl. All of those components have yet to come together for me, so still I make whirlwinds around the country trying to find my place. It's like I have my own Tale of Two Cities, without the war and hangings. I find myself wishing to never sit in an airplane again, and to just say no to everyone for 365 days. No I can't go out with you, no I can't leave the country with you, no I can't buy this or that, no I can't take care of you, no I can't visit, no I can't help anyone except myself.

Recently I had a perfect day in Seattle where I got to do everything that I like. My mission at the market was to get shrimp. I was surprised to see that many of the options there were of the frozen variety, and even more surprised to see the cost of the fresh variety. A sales/fish throwing guy came over to help me. He said that since I am from the midwest, practically all the fish I ever consumed in my lifetime was frozen. What an excellent sales pitch! He's absolutely right! Who wants to eat frozen when you can buy fresh? The shrimp had come in from Alaska that morning and were on my dinner table that night.

However, one big problem stared me in the face before accomplishing my dinner plans. The only fresh shrimp they had was still in the shell. I remember dealing with this a few years ago but I must have blocked the memory of shelling shrimp, as it proved to be the most disgusting activity I have done in the kitchen.

The thing is that you get yourself psyched up for how the shrimp will look and taste after they're cooked, but there is that whole other factor involved. You have to snap, pull, and dig stuff away from its slimy squishy body first! Some of them even have tons of ball like things connected to them, which I can only assume are eggs but don't want to think about it. First you have to sort of stab them and pull the knife downward while the legs move about or rip off. Then you pull the rest of the skin off, (or dig all the balls out with your hands - oh my god I am nauseous just writing this) then you have to pinch the tail part and yank it off. Whew. Gross.

What you are left with resembles overgrown pinkish maggots:

I had to walk away from this experience many times before I finished shelling them all. It gave me the heebie jeebies. I convinced myself that I simply could not eat these maggots for dinner, despite so looking forward to it. I persevered though and by the time they were cooked, I was mostly over it. Still, that night when I went to bed I saw all of it so clearly in my mind and could feel the slime and crunch on my fingers. The moral of the story is to just by frozen shelled shrimp and enjoy a lovely dinner.

Boobies

2011-02-28T20:41:00.000-08:00

Bra Shopping. Two seemingly innocuous words but when said together create a most undesirable condition to find yourself in.

I was in desperate need of a strapless bra, and for the last month or so the quest had been a failure. Due to an upcoming event in which my body will be displayed in a revealing ensemble, the need to hold up the girls became of utmost importance. At first I was unconcerned thinking that it was the least of my concerns. The more pressing issues were the dress, shoes, hairdo, jewelry, makeup, clutch purse, airfare, hotel, etc. Little did I know that the strapless bra hunt would be the most time consuming affair.

There were days in which I spent an entire hour, HOUR in a fitting room. I would select a few styles and get frustrated and ask for help and then the salesperson would bring in bra after bra. Each bra had the tags on and after you try on a few they scrape against your skin. Some even caused a rash of red to appear. Very sexy stuff. In the stores that are worried about theft, they have sensors connected to the bras which DIG into your back or ribs. Not to mention that fitting rooms tend to have lousy heat.

So there I was standing in a chilly room wondering if my breasts looked right in various bras and doing a shake or bounce test to see if they stayed in place. The two problems that kept happening were these: the strap was too tight around the back and caused shmushing of my back skin, or the cups didn't do anything. Like they existed only to look pretty and not hold up the goods. Those push-up ones were the worst with that problem because there was so much of me floating about on top, I actually thought it looked like breast soup. No need for a shake test there.

My efforts to spend less than the going rate on strapless bras proved fruitless and I was going to have to go to a real place and get fitted. This meant that there was no chance of spending less than $50, and since the dress is black, the bra has got to be black. It's not like I can use the black bra for every occasion that I'd need a strapless. I'd have to get a nude one in the future for other outfits. Fantastic.

Nearly convinced that I was going to the event braless, I went to Nordstrom and was introduced to the fitter. She escorted me to the room where I would showered with bras. The first thing you do is get measured. She asked what size I had been wearing and I said 36B. I didn't know that I'd be undressing and getting topless in front of this woman. Once I took off my shirt she said: "Oh dear. You are definitely not a B. Were you ever fitted before?"

I had been fitted at Victoria Secret 2 years ago which is where I got that size. I was a 34C for years but the back strap started pinching me. The sales people at VS didn't um, examine the merchandise as I tried it. Nor did they poke at me to show why what I was wearing didn't fit properly, but this woman did. She said that either my upper body is a bit slimmer to fit in the 34 now, or they improperly measured and I kept buying the 36 because of the comfort, therefore the bra wasn't doing anything. The B has some boobie left over on the side near the armpit and some lifting out of the middle. Frankly I thought that was how it was supposed to fit, but no one has given me any feedback on this before.

Next was a "fit test," which means you have to try on a few bras from a company that is generally good for everyone. The woman brought me a 34D and 34 DD. Double D? I asked if the natural progression of things would have me in a C, and shouldn't I try that first? She refused. She insisted that I was a natural D and that I had the wrong coverage this whole time. I tried on both bras and I thought they looked absolutely ridiculous. It was more like outfitting someone for a backpacking trip. Thick straps were across my shoulders and a gargantuan three hooked back strap made me feel like I was in a harness and ready to unleash a parachute. That is, with out a shirt on. The cups themselves looked like they came up to my collar bones, something any grandma would wear but NOT ME. I like the demi, lacey look and feel and this was far from it.

She insisted that I was the 34DD, to which I insisted that there was NO WAY I could be that big. I'm just not. So she brought out a bunch of styles to try on in that size to prove her point and they all were completely silly fly nets on me. She conceded that I was right and a bunch of 34D bras came at me next.

They fit, um, better and one was really good, but I just didn't understand the whole situation. I felt myself all harnessed up with bras holding my ribs in and pinching my shoulders, but the breasts settled in with a listless flop. Is that doing anything for me? The larger the size that I tried, the more the breasts looked like they were triangular in shape and moving toward my armpits. Aren't we trying to avoid that?

I bought the one that fit nicely, but wasn't entirely convinced. I don't see how I could be a D. They're not that big! At least, I hope not. I sought out a second opinion and since Victoria Secret may have lead me astray, I wanted to see what they would say.

The fitter there was quick and used actual measurements rather than checking me out. She said I was probably in between a 36C and a 34D, but for strapless you should get the smaller strap size to be held up properly. I was shocked. I told her that just two years ago I was a 36B and that they couldn't have possibly grown that much! I kept saying that I'm just not that big, but alas, they also had a 34D that was a perfect fit.

So I bought that one also to compare and try them both on with the dress. I also bought a regular bra in that size to see if I liked the feel better than what I already have. I sincerely don't have any idea how these things work, since I don't feel much bigger on top. It's possible that there isn't a ton of cup variation in the category I am in. Regardless, it's not like I can stock up on a favorite style because in two years I could hit that 34DD. Maybe two years after that I will be a 32G, in which case I will jump off a bridge.

Before ending the undergarment shopping extravaganza, I realized that I also needed nylons for the event. Five hours, 3 bras, and one pair of nylons later, I spent $175. And this is why the man should pay for dinners out; because our mere existence is so much more costly than theirs.

Radiant Child

2011-02-15T17:25:00.000-08:00

Recently I completed a program in which I learned to teach yoga to children. The focus was on an age group a little younger than I intend to work with, but it was informative and helpful anyway. The class was full of women, all of which were mothers except myself and one other. I could see how the techniques would help them with their own children, but I felt pretty silly with a lot of the training.

The facilitator taught us as if we were the children in the age group she targeted. For example, Friday night we were in pre-school, Saturday we were 4-8, and Sunday we were pre-teens. It was in a word, weird. Sure I laughed my head off and it was probably worth it for that alone, but I couldn't help feeling strange. It's weird to be thrown a ball and asked what your name is and what your favorite animal is. Or, to make elephant noises and walk around with your arms in the shape of the trunk.

One thing that always makes me feel like a total moron is singing. I generally do not sing out loud unless I have had alcohol or I am feeling silly. I don't even sing in the shower. Little did I know there was a ton of singing throughout the training, and we even had to lead the class of adults in songs like: Fly Like A Butterfly, Happy Happy Gio, and Yogini Went To Sea. Most of these songs have been re-playing in my head every single day since the course. An example of what this looks like to the intended audience is here:

I have to admit that I felt insane at various intervals, especially since pretending to be a child makes you want to randomly yell out things like, "Potty!" I even had to fight the urge to run around making airplane noises.

Besides my awful singing, there was also the element of talking in the goo goo ga ga voice, which I am not at all a fan of. I found this children's yoga video and seriously worried that this is why people think practicing yoga is nuts:

I understand that the type of yoga generally taught to children is Kundalini Yoga, which is different than the yoga I practice. I also know that as an instructor I do not have to do anything that I am uncomfortable with. The songs are cute and the movements work really well with kids to get them to shake it out and stretch and focus, and even to breathe. Just creating more awareness for a child, such as when to take a deep breathe and when to relax is valuable for their entire life. Clearly I do not want to chant words that kids wouldn't understand. Even if you explained that SAT NAM means: truth is my identity, does it really fit in?

I love yoga and I know that there is something for everyone in it, but sometimes people need to expand their horizons before they will even give it a chance. Does that mean we need to chant and say things that we think are nonsense and irrelevant? Maybe it does once in a while. It couldn't hurt, even if it is pretty silly. I still have a hard time with a lot of that stuff and don't intend to work that way with kids, but you never know. Whatever works, works.

At my cousin's funeral the priest had the attendees chant the Hail Mary over and over and over, which at the time I completely didn't understand. I thought I was in some sort of bizarre cult-ish ritual. Since I am not Catholic like that side of the family, I didn't even know the words and just sat there wondering when this torture was going to end. Now I get that by saying a phrase over and over you connect with your breath and alter your state of mind to concentration. By focusing on the current sound only you alleviate whatever tension or anxiety you're coming in with.

I had a yoga instructor that had us singing some sort of devotion to Patanjali in class, which made me feel like a total moron. Sometimes she would do it when we were stuck in an extremely difficult position and I would end up laughing. It was a trick; I was laughing or other people were singing, and that quadricep trying to scream at you wasn't as loud anymore.

So if we can get children to learn various ways of calming themselves, or tricking them into exercise, what difference does it make how ridiculous the words or the songs are? I seem to remember a truly awful song from my childhood that must have some redeeming quality, if at least only in humor:

Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher meat

Mutilated monkey meet

Dehydrated birdie feet

French fried eyeballs swimming in a bowl of pus

And me without my spoon, so they gave me

Horse meat, sugar on top

Elephant's vomit, milk and snot

Camel's eyeballs mixed with glue

All chopped up, just for you

The Salted Grape

2011-02-15T16:41:00.000-08:00

I have to cook dinner for my babysitting job, and last time I did so breakfast was requested. On the menu was: scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, pancakes, and fresh fruit. Simple enough right?

Well, sometimes I panic when I'm in someone else's kitchen and mess up easily. That and I also create a disaster area that takes an hour to be cleaned up. So, the pancakes turned out just awful: thin, runny, stuck together and bland. Mess! The eggs were cold by the time I finished the stupid pancakes and I burned a couple of the sausages. I decided to make this amusing so I brought the kids into the kitchen to make fun of the disaster breakfast/dinner. They took turns making weird pancake designs in the pan, but eventually sat down to an edible meal.

The youngest kept telling me that those were the worst pancakes ever, and drowned them all under a mountain of whipped cream. The other two were totally fine to eat what we ended up with, and created a little dish of their own: the pancake taco. This consisted of the larger, stuck together pancakes folded over with whipped cream and strawberry slices in between. Not bad. One of the kids said that if they ever had a restaurant, the pancake taco would be on the menu.

The kids are fans of white truffle salt, which they enjoyed on eggs. It only takes very little of this salt to add a pungent flavor, which I was not accustomed to. Since I am only the novice foodie, it's fun to get introduced to something new. The youngest was in a silly mood due to the lousy pancakes so she became experimental with the salt. She dipped the grapes and strawberries into the salt and ate them alongside her sweet pancake tacos. I had to try this and while I found it to be completely foul, I wondered if some of the most revered chefs get ideas from their kids. Just because I didn't like it doesn't mean that with the right amount of salt, or perhaps with a different type of fruit, you wouldn't have a fancy shmancy sweet and savory dessert.

I challenged her to create a fancy four course dinner menu of whatever she thought would be good/weird combinations. This project kept her occupied for two whole hours and she even drew pictures of how the food would look.

Course One: Grape A La Mia

halved grapes dipped in a white truffle salt, served with frozen clementine pieces, a bowl of whipped cream, and a side of deer poop

Course Two: Lousay Pancakesay

blueberry pancakes served with a plate of capers, broccoli with butter and cheese, popcorn, and almonds covered in chocolate

Course Three: Fishay

Salmon with blueberries in the eyes, grapefruit topped with steak, and bubbles

Course Four: Dessertay

chocolate cake with gold and diamonds inside

This girl might just be famous one day.

A Sprinkle Of

2011-02-15T11:15:00.000-08:00

I miss Q quite a lot. She was the girl I tutored last semester. Toward the end of my time with her I found out that she was recommended for an accelerated program. I felt stupid for constantly working with her instead of helping some of the other children that may have needed me more. But as it turns out, many children learning at an accelerated pace could also be at risk because they are generally ignored and not given the encouragement to keep going. People assume that they don't need help. And so if nothing else, I know that I encouraged Q to achieve.

I grew attached to her and to many of the kids I worked with. It was hard to let go. We had a party on our last day and I intended to bring something healthy and not just the usual garbage kids get. I bought a ton of tangerines, but at the last minute I thought it was pretty lame. I tried to remember what it was that I looked forward to as a kid, and then it hit me: sprinkles.

Whenever my mom took me to Kaufman's Bakery, the ladies behind the counter would give me a cookie with sprinkles on it. They had all kinds: pink, chocolate, M&Ms, red white and blue, etc. It was just a no big deal butter cookie, but the sprinkles struck me as something special when I was little. So on the last day of tutoring I went over to Kaufman's and got a box filled with all kinds of sprinkled cookies and brought them over along with the tangerines.

It was an emotional day and I was teary before arriving. I knew I had to keep it together but the manager asked each tutor to write something special for the kids on an index card, and it was tough. I hadn't worked with some of the very little kids at all, so I wrote stuff like: "You have a great smile!" "You bring sunshine everywhere you go!" And for a couple of the teenagers I wrote: "I support you in fulfilling your dreams," and other cheesy stuff. I didn't know what to write and agonized over this for hours. Writing for Q and her siblings was saved for last.

I wrote Q something similar to what my favorite yoga instructor says at the end of class: "All the strength you need is already inside of you. Just call on it as you need."

Each child also wrote us little notes, and I will have to keep Q's in a special place. Her note said that just writing made her cry, and could she have a picture of us so she would remember me, and please don't go.

I'm dying to know what will happen to Q and her family, but I can't keep in touch unless the parents suggest it. I just recently found out that Q's family had to move again, and they went somewhere without an after school program. It's not so much that I want her to remember me or my contribution, I just want to know that she will be ok.

The sprinkle cookies were a big hit that day, as were the tangerines. Some of the kids had never had a tangerine, so that is a huge success for me. I was impressed by the gratitude over the treats brought in. And to think I nearly brought in only fruit! You've got to treat kids once in a while. Who knows if they ever get anything they want. I hope I made a difference and I hope the experience as well as the cookies made them happy. I wish Q all the success in the world.

Ch Ch Ch

2011-02-03T16:50:00.000-08:00

A lot can change in just a month or even a week.

In December I received a dream job offer, but two weeks later it was spoken of as if hypothetical. Something about needing to create space in order to make the job a reality was the excuse given for the change of heart. Feeling crushed at first I wondered just what the universe is trying to tell me? Is this a situation in which to give patience or to flee because your own heart says it will never happen? And isn't it dejavu? Haven't you been told before that you'd be great at...blah blah blah and then you watch time pass realizing it was just a compliment to keep you doing the same old thing.....?

In December I journaled that I want more than anything to receive a graduate degree in "Good Execution," with a certificate in "Patience," since these are qualities I need help with. If any of you know where it is that I can get those credentials, please contact me asap. I consistently have good ideas but have absolutely no idea how to carry them out in real life. The patience factor is huge since my learning lesson of 2010 is that perseverance can pay off in the right circumstances. I've never had the patience to push through a bad time, I just make immediate change. Usually it works to my benefit, but I can see now that maybe I could have waited more patiently to be given a chance.

However, I don't miss the grating behavior of all the Brittneys, Jennys, Phils, Adams, Franks, Amons, Kathleens, Mias, Mitchs, Chicos, Janettes, and Altheas I spent time assisting. The mere lack of respect I faced with all of those people just made me DESPERATE for change. Desperate enough even, to be tempted by the devil. I honestly think I've been possessed for the last four years and the fog has only begun to clear. A new idea of focusing on my strengths rather than trying to conquer weaknesses is slowly taking over. Rather than looking at my time as wasted I see that colossal blunders pave way for better paths.

I also see that creating road blocks isn't going to help achieve any goals. For example, I have stated for years that I would never live with a boyfriend unless there were marriage plans. Well, what guarantee does marriage give you exactly? There isn't one. It's just a pretty awesome party. Living with someone isn't the end of the world and I feel my marriage interest fading anyway. It's just that I fear for getting stuck with another Al Bundy who endlessly complains while watching tv after work. I also desperately fear for losing freedom, which I've fought for in the first place. I've set up significant road blocks which stop me before I even give it a chance.

My tendency to over-do has had me laughing at myself. I picked up a babysitting gig for 3 suburbanite kids, which has got to be the easiest job of my life. When their mother told me that I had to cook dinner I agonized over what I consistently cooked well and asked three people for advice. My first night there I followed a recipe the mom left for me. I told the kids not to worry, I could take criticism and would make them something else if they didn't like it. They couldn't care less. It was food. It was simple food and they ate it and I worried over nothing. Oh yeah! They're kids. They don't care if I put enough spices on the pasta, or if the broccoli is slightly overcooked. They just want to hurry up and get sustenance so they can go back to their video game. Huge reality check.

Despite 2011 having a rocky start, my priorities have changed for the better. In the last month I have already accomplished a few minor goals, I started some fun craft projects, I found new muscles I didn't know I had, I picked up a cash job, I applied for much better full time jobs that I deserve, tomorrow I will start a program to teach yoga to young children, and I think I might be a writer. Not too shabby for one month.

Ned Ryerson!

2011-02-02T18:26:00.000-08:00

I love snow days because nature is telling us to slow down. The amount of time and patience it takes to dig out a car from a pile of snow is something we rarely get in touch with. And just so you all know, a cardinal rule of Chicago living is that you never drive downtown unless you absolutely have to, especially not when bad weather is on its way. I'm counting my blessings to have been spared the Lake Shore Drive experience. Let's hope for that early spring.

Coloring

2011-01-25T21:04:00.001-08:00

In junior high I thought myself to be something of a painter. I liked painting flowers mainly because of the colors and beauty and simplicity. Several of my old artworks adorn the homes of my family members. When I saw the paintings there I never paid any attention to them.

I haven't painted a thing in at least ten years. In college it quickly became obvious that my interest in painting was only some sort of childish playfulness. When I was a kid I attended a weekend art school where they taught me to re-produce famous paintings. The idea was to learn technique that way. As an adult I felt embarrassed that I had done so much reproduction but practically nothing with unique perspective. That began the feeling that I was no artist at all.

Today I saw the real painting of Georgia O'Keefe's Yellow Hickory Leaves with Daisy, and I think for a kid, mine isn't so bad at all.

Nalesniki Night

2011-01-21T15:15:00.000-08:00

A couple years ago I made a dish for a Christmas party that was a big hit. My family used to make this every once and a while and they served it with chicken soup. It's a ton of work to make these, not difficult work, just time consuming. Instead being a usual dinner in my household, it will have to be served as something special; something to look forward to. And so, I declare Nalesniki to be my official Christmas dish.

Some people make chili for Christmas or goose, ham, tamales, or whatever your special family recipe is, but mine will be these. They're pronounced Nah Lesh Niki, which is endless fun to hear from everyone. The way I describe the dish is like they're savory meat crepes. Of course you can make them with turkey, mushrooms, cheese, and whatever you like. I made mine with meat, onions, and something special which I can't reveal. It's a long process but once you're there it's worth it. The simplest way to explain is this: make crepes, cook meat, roll up, fry. I put in too many onions this year so maybe I'll have to make them again before the holiday.

Sufganiyot

2011-01-21T14:27:00.000-08:00

In the effort to keep some sort of holiday tradition I managed to make sufganiyot, which is a sweet for Chanukah. Because the holiday is about the miracle of having enough oil to provide light, most of the foods served are fried. Sufganiyot are doughnuts. I made them from scratch and made the whole place reek of oil, and I made them on Christmas Eve instead of Chanukah, so there you go. At least I tried.

Here is what to do when you can't find your rolling pin:

No idea if that is hygienic. I washed the bottle and it worked well enough. Clearly I'll be taking over for Martha Stewart and her ultra perfectionist attitude any day now.

The oil was too hot when I dropped the first ball in and it burned to a crisp right away. The smoke filled the room and I completely freaked. Furious that I decided not to buy the oil thermometer due to the price, I nearly gave up. On the second, third, and forth tries it seemed to work ok.

I can't say that these were a total success but they took a pretty picture. You can't tell that some were hockey pucks. I'll have to try again. Since I worked on them until 1am, it's a good thing I have a year until Chanukah.

Sharpened

2011-01-18T20:45:00.000-08:00

In 2010 my goal was to get rid of clutter. I tried to help my family do the same but was met with gigantic opposition from my mother. Every stupid little thing in the house had some great attachment to it. I ebayed a few of their items anyway but then stopped in order to avoid her wrath.

This pencil sharpener belonged to my grandfather. Anything that reminds my mom of him must be kept in a dusty box forever. I ebayed it anyway since it had a tiny bit of worth and someone actually wanted it. When I mentioned wanting to ebay she would bring up the fact that I got rid of a perfectly good pencil sharpener. She also stated that there was one at work similar to it but not nearly as good as her dad's. I asked her how anyone could be emotionally attached to a pencil sharpener and she said that I just wouldn't understand.

There was also a TV I sold last year on craigslist. It was a 1967 Zenith black and white television, made right here in Chicago, and it still worked.

My grandfather bought this TV and had it waiting in the apartment for when my mom, grandma, and uncle made it over to the United States. It was their first television and my grandmother swore she would never get rid of it. Truthfully, if I had my own home and not just some apartment I would have kept it, but she grew tired of it sitting in the basement. I think it made her sad when she looked at it and eventually she asked me to sell it for her. My mom threw a fit about the TV, but I'm not sure why hanging on to this item serves her. She will still hold the shock of seeing her own TV for the first time in her heart and memory. She remembers every detail of her first day in Chicago and what it was like to see her father after five years. She has told me over and over about the first time she saw him and didn't think it was her dad. He was skinny and had lost two fingers in an accident at the bakery. She was afraid of him for a minute and by the time they got to their apartment in Albany Park, she was completely afraid of Chicago.

I've often reflected on loss of culture in my family and in my life. It hadn't occurred to me just how much my mom felt that she lost. I always saw it as unrelenting guilt and meaningless desire to return to how things were. Somehow it took the entire year of 2010 to understand my mom's feelings a little better. Of course I don't think it's necessary to hold on to a stupid pencil sharpener, but I do know the need to hang on to something.

I assume that I did her a favor by getting rid of items like these. There must be more letting go at some point. If there is anything I learned at school last semester it's that the past often doesn't serve us. To be stuck there is to stop living. But how do we learn to let go?

Many years ago we saw the film: Left Luggage together. I completely identified with the main character, the nanny, but Mom identified with her parents. The nanny's father developed an obsession with finding items in suitcases he buried during the war. His family thinks he is crazy, but he just wants to see them again, to feel a connection with something lost.

My mom has an address book that belonged to my grandfather. Sometimes just looking at the way he phonetically spelled things out brings her to tears.

Move Over Martha

2011-01-12T17:31:00.001-08:00

I've gone craft crazy.

Beautiful Flowers

2010-12-04T22:08:00.000-08:00

I love the studio owner I work for and really feel bad writing about her, but just can't help myself. I laugh at work every day.

I opened the studio during the snowstorm Saturday. She called early to ask me to shovel snow in front of the studio so the sidewalk would be safe. While she was talking to me a couple came in wanting to know about our classes. I told the owner that I needed to call her back.

When I got her back I said "sorry about that, " to be polite. She said: "Oh no. You handled that perfectly. You are a beautiful flower."

She gave me some instructions for the morning and said she would be in around 9:30. When I opened I noticed that she left me 3 singles in the drawer and no fives. Thank goodness I had time to walk to the bank after shoveling. By the time she got there I took care of the snow, talked to her husband about getting more salt, got plenty of change for the drawer and handled all the transactions for the first two classes.

However, she pointed out that I neglected to turn on the essential oil diffuser and that it really needs to made a morning priority.

Somehow she makes owning a small business look like the easiest and best job in the world.

Surprise

2010-12-04T21:45:00.000-08:00

I received a note from my professor on a paper I wrote recently. The paper was one that I had no interest in, no desire to write at all, researched and put together sloppily the morning of the due date, and handed in 30 minutes before the official deadline.

The note said: "Excellent job on this assignment! Keep up the good work!"

At first I thought he was being facetious and expected a low grade and an email. I checked my grades and found full points for it. No email.

I spent the day wondering if the caliber for this class is really that low, or if I am a super mega-genius and am just finding out now.

Happy Holidays

2010-11-28T19:44:00.000-08:00

Today is my uncle's birthday, the one uncle I talk to anyway. I agonized over what to get him because two days later will be my mother's 60th birthday, making this the most expensive holiday season of my life thus far. I told Dad that after Mom's birthday I am done doing nice things for people. That's it. I'm spending all further money on me. Take that! Oh right. I have two weddings coming up. So much for that idea.

So, I picked out this really fabulous winter jacket for my uncle but the price was too steep. I figured that if I have really good gear, I should spread the wealth to my family. I bought Mom a winter parka for an obscene price last week and looked at the one for him but walked away. Today my parents and I shopped at a couple places but couldn't find anything good. The one I originally liked was sold out. I was mad at myself for not going for it. I couldn't think of what in the world to get him, especially since I know he needs a winter coat more than anything.

I brooded over this but Mom said that I should just get him gloves. That has got to be the most completely lame gift compared to a winter coat. I left the store, but came back for the gloves in defeat. I couldn't show up empty handed and I was out of ideas and time. We got a lame cake at Whole Foods since I didn't have time to bake either and I got there upset. Lame, lame.

Uncle came home from the gym and was surprised to see us waiting for him with cake. He had done nothing fun for his birthday today, and had in fact spent the day taking Grandma to Costco and Jewel. Super fun. He goes to the gym everyday so nothing exciting there either.

After he blew out the candle on the cake and told us that he wished for all our health, I handed him the tiny box. It's funny how much I wished to be giving something grander. When you think about it gloves are an extremely useful present. People always lose one glove, get holes in them, or maybe they aren't warm enough or water resistant enough. I've given plenty of gloves as gifts in the past thinking they were a decent present, but I hoped I could do better for him.

He was absolutely thrilled. I'd never have thought I could make someone that happy over a pair of gloves, but he went on and on about how much he needed them. He recalled all the helpful things I got him over the years and said that the other truck drivers at work jeer him sometimes for having brand merchandise. He tells them that someone really cares about him and that's why he has nice stuff.

I felt moved. A simple gift made his boring day into his birthday. We all talked for a while and I could tell he really enjoyed our company. It seemed like he didn't want me to leave, and we all had a nice time for once. In the end I could have given him a sock or a water bottle or a paperweight or a paper airplane and it wouldn't have mattered at all. Thank goodness some people remind us that the thought really counts.

Turkey Tom

2010-11-25T19:35:00.000-08:00

What I learned about Thanksgiving this year:

It takes at least 6 hours to make

20 minutes to eat

And there is no one to talk to when dinner is over

I don't know what people without families do during the holidays. I feel that I don't have one, even though I do. The four others that constitute my family are people I can barely stand being around. Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday but now I just hate them all. I even believe that the family put on a show for my benefit all these years and can't stand being around each other at all. My grandmother and uncle decided to eat out today even though I made the whole meal at my parent's place, and they live downstairs. At first I was hurt and then I realized that if they don't care, nor should I. I am so sick and tired of all their crap that I just need to scrub the family and their value system and all this disappointment right off my skin.

Since I stupidly did everything for the dinner today; here is the plan should I ever make this meal again:

Tuesday:

make dessert. be sure to make sweet potato pie because it is my favorite and I didn't have time to make it today. (huge bummer)

Wednesday:

peel, chop, and soak everything. make cranberry sauce

Thursday:

put it all together and maybe even make a cocktail.

Lessons learned:

- roasted root veggies are way better than pan fried. thyme is key.

- use less butter if possible

- milk that goes into mashed potatoes needs to be warm or room temp.

- the turkey is supposed to measure 180 degrees in the thigh when finished

- allspice goes nicely in the cranberry sauce

- gravy is unnecessary

- vegetarian stuffing is the way to go: apples and currants are a must. don't forget a little melted butter, and preferably unsalted croutons; salted is overpowering

- make sure someone can help you with the dishes. my god, half the day is washing. my hands are killing me

- less is more

- and if you get invited to a friend's home for this holiday forget this mess and just go, which is exactly what I should have done. Bless L for remembering me today. I shall not decline next time.

Things I am thankful for in no particular order:

- a heated place to live

- enough money for food and bills

- my health

- Bell's Best Brown Ale

- love

- finding the ability to hold my own

- yoga

- writing

- good friends that call with funny stories or take me salsa dancing

- The Moth

- The Hyde Park Art Center

- purple nail polish

- having opportunities and choices

- silk pajamas

Emotional Landscapes

2010-11-15T18:04:00.001-08:00

Every Monday I work with kids and this particular week I was apprehensive about going in. Normally I work with one girl every time but since more kids joined our program I had to facilitate more group work. It was ok for a little while. We managed to do reader's theatre games and counting card games together. But last week disaster struck.

I'll call her Laquishia, which is the girl's name with a different first letter. Laquishia and I have been working together for three months and she sort of picked me. Initially I worked with a younger girl in kindergarten but then L grabbed my hand one day and that was that. We're buddies. We laugh all the time and when she doesn't concentrate I tell her she is having too much fun. She loves that! She uses it back at me all the time whenever I laugh, and she even wags her finger when she says it. L is in 2nd grade but is advanced and well beyond the homework she is assigned. Often I think that all she needs from me is encouragement and attention, rather than help with the work.

Since working with L, her sister Katiana has been jealous and complains that I should be with her. K is sadly behind and was kept in 4th grade for two years. She is embarrassed of her reading ability and will take any moment possible to avoid focusing. Their brother, Daquis is the class clown. He is always yelling, acting out, doing gymnastics out of nowhere, etc. Daquis however, is extremely advanced and never has a problem with homework. He just can't sit still or have quiet. It's ok. I've never had any issue with his behavior. Until that day.

What happened was that L wasn't paying attention and playing around a little too much. She said she was upset because every time she comes in she wants to color on the board, but never gets to. I told her she can if she finishes her work. K was drawing on the board and started writing notes to L on it to disrupt us. For example, K wrote: "Be Quiet L!" So L would grab a paper and write: "You Be Quiet!" The woman working with K had to call a truce and I tried to bring L back to addition problems. Once we got to the subtraction, five more kids walked in.

One of the girls, Marlinda is the same age as L, but not the same level. She needs more help but really tries to do her best. M came to sit with us and claimed not to have any homework. I found her a dry-erase board with addition and subtraction problems on them, exactly like the ones L was working on. I figured, this should be perfect. But no.

M is really calm and quiet, unlike the three siblings. L immediately was annoyed that I gave her a board like the one she wanted to color on. I explained that it was a math board not a coloring board and that I'd like her to finish her problems. She looked over at what M was doing and started shouting out the answers to make M feel stupid. I was shocked. I told L to let M try her problems and let's go back and finish ours, but she yelled at me! She said: "How are you going to help us both?" I told her not to worry.

She became withdrawn. She asked me why I gave her 2 stars for the day a long time ago instead of three. I said because she had given up on working that day and fought with her brother. I reminded her that if she continued working she would receive her three stars for the day today, but it didn't work. She started filling in the wrong answers on purpose. Then she started to cry.

I decided that I wasn't going there. I was not indulging this, I had to maintain strength. I went over some of the subtraction reasoning we did earlier and kept talking and addressing them both. I thought by continuing on she might snap out of it. Nope!

Daquis saw her crying and came over to find out what happened. D doesn't speak unless he is screaming, so this was bad. He asked her what happened and then interrupted everyone.

SHE'S NOT HELPING HER! SHE'S NOT HELPING. TELL HER THE ANSWERS! THAT ONE IS 9, L. THE ANSWER IS 9.

Daquis, I can't give her the answers. I think L doesn't want to share her time and she is just having a moment.

IT'S YOUR FAULT. YOU'RE DOING A BAD JOB. YOU'RE NOT HELPING. YOU MADE HER CRY.

The site facilitator had to jump in and scold him for yelling at me but he continued on and on. SHE'S NOT HELPING. SHE'S NOT HELPING. SHE'S NOT HELPING. SHE'S NOT HELPING.SHE'S NOT HELPING.SHE'S NOT HELPING. SHE'S NOT HELPING. SHE'S NOT HELPING.

And then Laquishia started absolutely wailing. The entire staff stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I couldn't believe how quickly I lost control. By that point another staff member took over the project with Marlinda because I had lost her too.

The siblings grabbed their things and left early. My attitude about the incident was that kids are kids. Sometimes they're brats. What can you do? But when the session was over the staff questioned me wanting to know what went wrong. I said nothing, she just didn't want to share her time and got emotional. Then they asked what I had done about it and what did I feel and how did it start and what did I do and so on. What the hell? Were they going to make me feel bad too? I left feeling extremely shaken and not knowing if I should work with L again. Maybe she grew too attached.

When I came today, I talked to the coordinator about working with another child. She said that we would see how things happened. I assumed L didn't want to work with me anyway, but when she came in she grabbed my hand again and said, "You're with me, right?"

Well It's A Marvelous Night For A.....

2010-11-07T20:41:00.001-08:00

My boss decided we need to get in touch with our inner goddesses, so she signed up the staff for a pole dancing lesson. Yes, you read that sentence correctly.

We went to S Factor and I admit that I was terribly nervous. I figured it would be a tough workout and worried that I wouldn't be strong enough for it. There was another major component involved that I neglected to consider. Luckily, despite thinking it merely a workout, I remembered not to put my mother down as an emergency contact. It's a conversation I'd like to avoid should I fall and break something while pole dancing.

The beginning of an intro to pole class has warm up movements similar to yoga, except the language used is quite different.

Yoga:

Sit in a cross legged position on the floor with your hands gently resting on your knees. Take a deep breath in and slowly open up your chest by leading forward with the heart. Push your shoulders back and take a slight arch in your low back. After a breath or two, curve the belly inward and round the back pulling your chin to your chest. Let's do this a few more times working with your breath.

Pole:

Sit on your mat in a cross legged position. Reach your arms high into the sky and let them fall slowly down your body, taking forever. Feel every inch of your curves as your hands glide down your face and neck and chest and hips to your inner thigh and down to your knees. Push your breasts out and let them lead you down slowly for a stretch over your legs. Push your upper body toward your right hip then curl your way to the back and over to the left. Once you reach forward again you want to do this a few more times, faster each time. Feel that groin muscle dig into the floor and let the breasts guide you around your body.

Yoga:

Let's all lay on our backs and come into Happy Baby pose. Grab your feet with your hands and try to pull your knees towards your armpits. It's ok if it doesn't go that far. Rock gently side to side to open that low back. Open one leg at a time if you're able. Stretch it high into the air and hold there for a few breaths. If you feel like pushing out towards a V you can do that now but remember not to strain. Hold your legs up by the hamstring or hold your hips down, whichever is comfortable.

Pole:

Let's lay on our backs now and float our legs into the air. Let one leg slowly pull toward the chest, with toes pointed then back down to the floor. Let the other leg do the same and just take forever with these circles. If you want you can lean over to one side and let the leg curl a little behind you. This is similar to the Cat Pounce we'll be going over later. Let your hands run through your hair and glide down your curves. The next time your left leg is up, bring your right to meet it and open them wide. That's it ladies, feel yourself opening wide. Lift your chest and take your hands over to the right foot as far as you can. Slowly touch every inch of your leg as you pull your body back down. You can roll your shoulders one at a time to give your breasts movement here. Caress your calf and your knee and your thigh and then just touch it ladies. Just touch yourself. Now over to the left.

Yoga:

We're going into a modified sun salutation. Let's take a seated position on our knees, resting the sacrum on our ankles. We're going to rise the body up to the knees, pull the arms in a large circle way above the head and look towards the sky, leading with the heart. Shoulders are relaxed. On our way back down we'll bring our hands down to the earth and back into prayer position by the chest. Let's do this three more times moving with the breath.

Pole:

Ok ladies I want you to sit down on your knees, but have them spread wide apart. Toes should touch behind you. We're going to pull our body up, letting the arms float up, and move our ass up and down, but only hovering above the legs. Don't sit back down completely. Let's do this a few more times. Does this remind you of anything ladies? What if we picked up the pace? Faster! More more more! Yes! Good! Let your hands glide over your curves. Touch your breasts, put your hands on your hips and feel them rise and fall. Flip your hair everywhere! Faster! Oh yes! Reach your arms behind you and stick out that pelvis!

This was where each of us busted out laughing. I had the naive impression that we were in for a strength training course. To be making such a motion in the company of my co-workers is not exactly your average Friday.

We did a "drunk girl walk," and several other dance-type moves that were supposed to be sexy. We learned a stretch to do when you want attention from your mate, which is certainly now in my bag of tricks. I won't explain what it looks like but I will say it's pretty much ass in the air. No yoga equivalent that I know of for that one .

Eventually we spun around the pole which was extremely challenging. I managed a few decent twirls but the instructor said she was a stickler for the way in which you finish the spin. She said you can't just squat and then stand up. You must give some booty action on your way up. Like so:

And yes that is my booty. The studio is dimly lit so women are more comfortable to do all manner of dirty filthy things without anyone really seeing it. I didn't unleash my wild child because I was just too timid and giggly about the whole experience. Since then there is definitely a little more pep in my step and I have found myself doing utterly ridiculous things in front of the mirror.

The next time I saw my co-workers we all greeted each other with an exaggerated hip sway and hair toss. It opened up a lot of conversation about the way we carry ourselves and what we are willing to let go of, or be open to. I guess you could say we got our goddess on after all. We unanimously decided to do this again.

I've Made a Huge Mistake

2010-11-01T20:12:00.000-07:00

I've been suffering from stupid pains in the arches of my feet again. This was a huge problem a couple years ago but has since relaxed. Out of nowhere it flared up and nearly had me crying the other day. It was time to get a massage.

Everyone at work talks about the benefits of massage but I always considered it a luxurious experience, only to be had when money is abundant or it's your birthday. The last time I had one was when I pulled something in my neck and couldn't move for 3 days. I broke down after work one day and found a chair massage place that wasn't expensive. She worked out whatever was trying to kill me and I felt much better.

I didn't want a chair massage this time though. It needed to be the real deal. Besides the stupid feet I have been achy for a couple weeks and always carry a great deal of tension in my low back. I called around a few places for a last minute appointment but no one answered. The prices were a bit scary anyway. There was a listing online for a suburban massage place with the word, "Heavenly" in the title. I immediately thought that was a bad sign but checked out the site anyway. (mistake #1) Their prices were much lower than the other places and they were a chain so I was fairly convinced they weren't sex workers.

I called and told them I had an injury that was giving me trouble and asked if they could help. They seemed confident that they could and all I had to to was talk to the masseuse when I got there. They were open until 11 and could take me anytime. They asked if I preferred a male or female and I said it didn't matter. (mistake #2) I got there by 8.

Upon arrival they had me fill out the "I won't sue" form and mark down whatever my ailments were. Plantar Fasciitis was not an option so I stupidly wrote it in thinking they would know what it is. Nope. Three front desk people asked me countless questions and I was just like, "Um. My feet ache. That's it. Some calf pain, some low back. It's no big deal."

They asked if I spoke Russian so I could explain the problem to my massage guy. "Oh dear. I'm afraid I don't." The guy, Uri, came out to talk to me and seemed to understand that my feet hurt and I had some general tension. He motioned for me to follow him back and told me to take off my clothes and get into the sheets. (mistake #3)

Um, like everything? Take off? Um. Everything? (I motioned with my hands to express that I wasn't sure about the undies)

Yes, every. Take. Ok? I back in minuutes.

I didn't take off the undies. Bra was obviously coming off but undies? What the fuck. No. I can be something of an exhibitionist but not with the lower section. (not a mistake)

Uri came back and did an "assessment" of sorts where he basically rubbed my back for a couple minutes and asked if pressure was too strong.

When he got to the lower back, it was to my great shock that he pulled the undies down himself. Holy shit. My entire body tensed up, including my toes. It's not like he pulled them all the way down, but whoa. I was not expecting that.

Lower back has it very much tension. You not doing exercises?

I exercise.

Not enough physical activity. You need it physical activity. (rubbing my tailbone and hips)

I do yoga and I walk on a tread mill.

Is nothing. You vatching tehlevision?

Huh?

You sit down all day and zen vatching tehlevision? Yes.

Oh. Uh. No. I barely watch tv.

Tread mill is a nothink. Is not enough. Better for you valking outside.

Ok. Sure.

Zis is it big tension. You're not enough valking. Computer?

What?

You computer?

Uh I guess so.

I feel it computer. You sitting.

Oh. I see.

Uri didn't get my name properly and kept calling me Tatiana. He wanted to know where I was from and I said here. He asked if anyone from my family was from the Ukraine and I got annoyed. This was not at all the relaxing experience I hoped for. Uri moved on to the right foot and spent way too much time there.

Tatiana, why you telling front desk about injury?

Well I was hoping to get the feet worked on a little. And calves. And back.

You vas in car accident or somethink?

No. It's just strained.

You have it medical problem? See doctor?

No. It's been fine for a long time. Just um. Hurts now.

Tatiana, front desk they not knowing these things. No reason telling them, only tell Uri. I know it what's vrong by touching body. They not touch body, they not knowing.

Oh. I just thought that I should mention it.

You only telling me. I know it these problems.

They asked if I wanted deep tissue or Swedish and I thought I would ask about the injury...

Front desk not knowing. Only Uri knows. Next time you only telling them you vant talk to Uri and problem solve. Ok?

Ok.

He moved up to the leg and also spent too much time there. He explained that he was using a reflexology technique on me but I got nervous. It seemed like he made that up just to lift my leg up in the air. All I could focus on was the hope that my cotton sliver of underwear still covered the goods.

After finishing the legs he pulled up both sheets and asked me to turn around.

You mean, you want me to lay on my back? Why?

I doing reflexology. You need stretching low back.

He stood there looking right at my face and expected me to flip over, completely exposing the boobs. I couldn't believe it. Shouldn't he have left one sheet down? Or both? Or looked at the back wall? There really was no graceful way for me to turn over and and remain hidden. I tried to maneuver my arms/hands to cover the girls but they moved without my consent. Boobs were definitely seen by Uri. (mistake #4)

He put his arm under my low back and showed me a bridge stretch, which I do all the time. I explained to him that I already did it in yoga, but he assured me that it isn't yoga at all and I need to do it 15 times a day. I expected him to do more massage with my neck and back, especially considering that the foot and leg massage made me cringe but he said time was up. I asked if he was sure because my neck was really stiff, and he got insulted. He leaned in very close to me and told me to leave.

Tatiana, is late. You go.

Oh ok. Um. When I called they said something about a steam shower? Where is that?

Tatiana, you have it shower at home?

Are you asking if I have a shower?

I think regular shower is fine for you. Next time. Come earlier. Ask for Uri.

I haven't felt that humiliated in a long time. I dressed quickly and stopped by the front desk to pay. I gave a lousy tip and tried to hurry out the door. The lady asked why I didn't take the steam shower, so I explained that Uri told me not to. She said he wasn't one of their best people and gave me a bunch of coupons.

Lesson learned.

Ask And

2010-10-22T19:24:00.000-07:00

Recently I've written about a few things that were bothering me. Loneliness being one of them, and all of a sudden I have several plans. Maybe too many now. I went to yoga class this morning having achy muscles and stiffness. The teacher said that I might have an excess of energy which would cause me to feel like I don't have anywhere to channel it. Instead of running around like a maniac and creating fatigue I should try to enjoy more rest. She suggested that I buy some geranium oil and take a bath with it this afternoon. It seemed like a good idea but I baked a lasagna instead.

It's funny how I never put much value on exercise until after I quit smoking in my early 20s. Now despite a few injuries, I feel like I must do something everyday or I tense up all over. Even if it is just a short walk, my legs have to move.

I don't recall having this need when I was younger, in fact in high school I did the minimal amount of physical activity possible. This might have been because I thought gym was the dumbest thing ever. Those outfits? The obnoxious teachers? The gross guys in those shorts? Shudder.

In junior high I distinctly remember having to be in boy-girl-boy-girl rows for calisthenic type deals at the beginning of gym. I have always had a hyper-flexibility so it never occurred to me that it was weird just how far I could bend and reach. Is it any wonder then that the boy directly behind me in gym class started sending me notes? Came to my house with a flower? Called about a million times? Told everyone how much he liked me? Oh my god. And I had to keep on touching my toes and having my butt in the air right in front of him! How dare these gym teacher buffoons! How could they do that to me? Incidentally, that same guy eventually saw my boobs once in high school, which I deeply regret to this day.

When I was 14 I had a back injury from ballet and needed to see a chiropractor. This got me out of gym for my first two years of high school. It was a godsend, but I took it as my opportunity to become a lazy pot smoking blob. Once I was put back I got to choose an easier type gym for those with injuries and disabilities. I got to swim and play badminton nearly everyday and it was perfect! A few times I got to swim while on acid. It was such a beautiful time in my life! If they just added golf and a very limited amount of beach volleyball, it would have been the gym class of my dreams. But soon after that blissful semester, a new more evil athletic department head was hired. He decided I was just a lazy pothead that needed to take regular gym.

I did not take well to this. Of course, I ended up getting the meanest, most sexist, typical meathead asshole piece of shit gym teacher you could imagine. Coach Sokalski. Oh yes. I'm not even going to change his name here. He constantly made fun of me for being slow, chubby, weak, messy, un-lady like, etc. He made fun of the pink in my hair, the black and white striped tights under my shorts, and the fact that I could not climb a fucking rope to save my life. So what? Who the fuck wants to climb the rope in gym class so everyone can watch you struggle like an idiot??? Why do I have to run a mile in a certain time? What if I want to walk? I bet he couldn't do three rounds of pirouettes in toe shoes, mother fucker.

Ooooh. I hated him! Just thinking about him now is making my blood boil. The rebellious part of me kept coming up every time I was near the guy. He told me that he wanted to fail me for being an unhealthy disrespectful twit but he couldn't stand to see my face for another semester. The guy was a real piece of work.

I graduated high school a semester early and despite my time away, I desperately wished to run into Coach Sokalski just to tell him off. I had turned 18 and volunteered in an army base and a kibbutz in Israel, so I was feeling like a WOMAN. There was a day much later that year when I returned to the high school to pick up some paperwork, and my wish came true.

I saw him walking his gym class out to the track and I called him over to the fence. He actually came up to me so I put my hand through. We shook hands and I said, "Coach Sokalski, I just wanted you to know that you are the biggest fucking asshole I've ever met."

He squeezed my hand much tighter and said, "You take that back you little bitch."

"Oh. You're turning me on."

He turned and briskly walked away.

Regardless of the pettiness and how many times my good friends have heard this story, isn't it wonderful to think that we might get the chance to tell off one of the world's biggest assholes at least once?

Clearly his gym class didn't do anything for me but I'm into exercise now. It would be amazing if kids could pick what they wanted to do for gym. Maybe we'd all be a little healthier. Or tripping. Hmmm.

Flyer Flyer Pants on Fire

2010-10-21T19:55:00.000-07:00

I don't drink much these days but I guess I was feeling a little stressed and lonely. It's shocking that I still have days where I can drink an entire bottle of wine since I know exactly what that means for the next 2-3 days. Yuck. I need a babysitter. For the record, I don't have any problem with Zooey or her mascara.

I had another stressful and lonely day but I ate ice cream this time. Last weekend I was a tourist in Chicago which was super fun and now I'm coming down. Shedd Aquarium, Buddy Guy's Legends, Second City, and PHENOMENAL restaurants occupied four days. Going back to the usual stuff is a little empty.

At work today we had to replace a printer because the old one crashed and burned. It was really a piece of crap that couldn't have more than one sheet of paper in the tray at once because it would cause a jam. Each jam required taking the back off the printer and slowly pulling paper out. Then the tray itself would fall off as soon as you got the jam out and was broken on one side anyway, so each paper would feed a little crooked.

Aviva to the rescue. I love my co-workers and my job but it's got to be a funny place if I am the tech expert. I was trying to explain to my co-worker that we didn't need to label the old wires because we would use the ones that came with the new printer. She proceeded to put masking tape on the power strip so we would know where to plug in the power, and also on the router so we would know what to put in there too. Hmmm. I set up the new printer without issue and it worked perfectly. I was pleased that I managed this while making my co-worker believe she was a big help.

However, she decided to plug in the old printer elsewhere just to see if it would turn on. Then she copied and printed a flyer using it, and decided to tell the owner that the old printer was working just fine. The owner said to switch them out again since the newer one was for her home use and she would rather have the cheaper at the business. Ah! Got to love small business owners.

Maybe I'll be a tourist again this weekend.

Oh Zooey

2010-10-19T22:58:00.000-07:00

Ohhhhh Zooey Deschanel. Just you wait.

I just saw you in a fucking ad for Rimmel Mascara. OH Yes I saw it. Soooooo. Even though you are absolutely perfect in every fucking way you still in need of the use of some gabilllion dollar add for your fucking beauty. Ha ha ha ahah aha!!!!

Yes I know that in 5900 Days of Summer you had your measurments set at your perfect 5"5 and size 8 foot and 122 weight...... guess what I AM EXACTLY THAT MEASURANT EXCEMPT 20 LBS HEVIEERT YOU FUCK IG BITVH.

So yhere.. This bottl of Marqus Philips SarAh's blend is perfectly meant for this mometnt. AS IS the entire bag of orgnic quinoia fuking white tortillla chipsn that I already ate.

500 DYS OF Skokie is comg at chatha. Ha ha ha ha ha a

ha h ha ah ah aha aha a!

I am su h a babe. Oh mygoodness.

Goddess Guidance

2010-10-11T09:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was hoping to reach my new boss on her blackberry and received this message:

I hope you're having a beautiful day! I am taking a break from modern technology so I won't be answering my phone for a while. I am out biking with my kids or taking a walk with my dogs. If you leave a message it could be a long time before I get back to you. I would probably respond faster to an email. Thanks for calling and namaste!

So far, I really like this job. It's a constant source of amusement and learning. We are currently selling a sign that says:

I AM A GODDESS. MEN ARE MY HEROES. THEY ARE HERE TO LOVE, HONOR, CHERISH, AND ADORE ME, AND WHEN THEY DO I WILL HEAL THEM WITH MY RADIANCE!

I must buy this item. Every time I look at it I laugh.

Namaste

2010-10-09T18:40:00.000-07:00

My yoga studio is a super cute place where I often have revelations and interesting discussions with others. Recently a yoga inspired theme about money came up. My instructor said that in order to achieve balance we must consider the opposite of our actions. For example, our prosperity is directly related to our generosity. If you're not feeling particularly abundant, it has something to do with what you project outward to the world. I would have to agree with this and have seen it work. After I started volunteering with kids I got a job without trying, my financial aid came through with more than hoped for, and I was offered another option for health insurance. This all happened within a matter of days.

Other cute things come up that I chuckle at but they seem to have relevance too. The other day the owner mentioned that she had to tap into her ethereal wisdom when walking in to the studio every morning. Her intuition told her to light a particular candle in the bathroom, and then three of those same candles sold that day. None had sold for months until this move. It's a cute way of looking at the world. I like it.

Other times I can't relate. I like all the positivity stuff, but I think you should be able to say something sarcastic once in a while. I was talking to a woman that teaches yoga for weight loss and I wanted to know more about her classes. She went on and on about following this specific book and diet and meditation and cleansing and blah blah. I was not interested but wanted to be polite. I asked her what the goals of her class were, a specific size or just health or what? She said that it was mostly for the "lifestyle change," that everyone is always boasting having the answer to. I told her that I've been the same numeric weight for years give or take 5 pounds but I've gone up a pant size in the last year.

Do you think it's an emotional response?

No, I think I sit on my fat ass too much.

DON'T TALK ABOUT YOURSELF THAT WAY.

This woman was serious. She yelled at me. I whispered, "It was a joke. I, uh. Don't think I'm fat."

You can't be yourself around some of these yoga people because they live on another planet. Sometimes I wish I understood it and other times I wish that the girl doing her "cleanse" of vinegar and garlic smelling tea would just stay as far away from me as possible.

Today the studio had a psychic healer come in for a workshop. I was invited to go but respectfully declined. It was 3 hours!

I over-heard a conversation between the clairvoyant and the studio's owner. They were criticizing a man that considers himself an avatar and is able to heal people by becoming them and reading their DNA. Apparently he can even do this over the phone. He can heal whatever ails you and hurts by explaining what the pain represents and how your worries and thoughts fuel it.

In a hurried whisper I heard one tell the other about her experience with him and she said, "I don't think he's a real avatar."

I'm thinking this guy has a brilliant business plan.

A) come up with incredible bullshit based on self help books and wise religious sayings from various cultures

B) market yourself toward people that live on another planet but have money to spend on earth

C) cash in

BFF

2010-10-08T18:55:00.000-07:00

In junior high anything could be a major drama. Folding your pants incorrectly, not achieving enough height in your bangs, and being shunned by the cool group was the end of the world. I actually was in the cool group during most of middle school until that summer in between 7th and 8th grade.

When I was in middle school my best friends were: a girl from France with an Algerian mother and a Moroccan father, (they were Jewish, but not the same type of Jewish as my family) a girl with parents born in Thailand, and a girl with parents born in Cuba. The four of us were inseparable and I liked our little group. I lived in an area with a high immigrant population because it is one of the first suburbs north of Chicago. Later on we befriended girls with parents from the Philippines, Chile, Puerto Rico, Mexico, and England. These was the super cool girls.

My three best girlfriends back in middle school wanted to get in with the super cool girls, one of which didn't like me. She had tried calling me a few times but I really hated 3 way calls and I made up excuses to get off the phone. One day another friend called to ask why I didn't want to talk to that girl, and I told her that I didn't like being on the phone all day. As it was I talked endlessly to the three girlfriends every day and my parents wanted to take away phone privileges. We didn't have call waiting and I was tying up the line too much. The girl who I didn't give enough time to was listening on the line at the time of that call. Feeling disrespected somehow, she started the hate campaign. The summer I left for that road trip was when she won.

I saw this happen to other girls but never thought it would happen to me. Generally I tended to agree with the girls that were ostracizing one of their group out. Oh yeah I knew she was a liar. She talked about me? What did that bitch say?

One time, and one time only I was the bully and aggressor of the situation. There was a girl that made me extremely uncomfortable. She was loud, obnoxious, crude and constantly talked about sex and how much she was having with various older men. She had a vivid imagination and admitted to never having done it when pressured. I really couldn't stand her. I told her that I knew she was a liar and that I could see right through her, an expression I learned from my mother. It was bad. There were tears and endless ridicule from the cool girls.

I felt pretty bad about it. If she wanted to live a fantasy life for a 12 year old then that was her problem. I ended up apologizing a year later. I told her that I didn't expect her to be friends with me but that I learned it was wrong to go crazy on someone like that. This was mostly because those cool girls had started harassing me and I knew what it felt like.

Things like wanting to swap lunches one too many times, not being able to hang out after school (because of ballet and piano lessons,) making fun of a friend that still sucked her thumb, talking about someone behind her back, and dancing like a “slut” at so and so’s bar mitzvah were their reasons not to be friends with me. Out of nowhere I was getting daily crank calls, I was beat up at recess, I was picked on and name called daily, and I didn’t have a friend to talk to. The worst part was that I knew the French girl since we were three. We met in ballet school and were inseparable until this.

The girl I harassed did everything she could to get back in with the cool girls. They slowly accepted her back. She had a day during recess where she got back at me and was egged on by the cool girls. I knew she was just doing it to have friends again and be respected by them because she still wrote me notes in class. We got together a few times after school and sort of bonded. But then she told the cool group every detail of what I was like and what I did with my spare time and who I had a crush on. I ended up isolating myself and barely left the house.

I told this story to a friend recently and we talked about whether or not the behavior of bullies can be stopped. She felt that it's the way kids are and there is nothing you can do. We go through it in our lives and that's that. But I felt like there must be a way to instill better values than that. With everything in the news lately we've got to hope that something can be done.

I admit that however petty or silly this might sound from a grown woman, this experience shaped my social skills and anxieties for many years later. At 13 I was cut off from most contact with people my age and at home I was surrounded by adults. It took so much effort to get over this kind of betrayal. Later on when dealing with much bigger, uglier betrayals I wondered what was wrong with me to deserve it? What was I supposed to learn from it? It's ridiculous really. Friends disappoint, friends are fair weathered, lovers are a mess, etc. It can't all be my fault. Nevertheless when things like that happen my thoughts turn to those girls.

Hero

2010-10-06T20:41:00.000-07:00

The summer after 7th grade my mom had a relative stay with us from Denmark. He was the most annoying, obnoxious, sexist piece of shit I had ever met in my 12 years on earth. Mom kicked me out of my room for the duration of his stay and I had to sleep on the couch so that our worldly guest had a decent room to himself.

She also decided that it was our responsibility to show him the U.S. and we embarked on the road trip of all road trips. We went to Phoenix, Death Valley, Vegas, etc. All the while I had to share hotel rooms with both parents and this chain smoking alcoholic idiot. Mom made sure to get rooms that allowed smoking and the two of them had me inhaling clouds of the shit for two weeks straight. On July 4th, we were at some cheesy restaurant and this relative, named Lech believe it or not, was hitting on our waitress. I was at my wits end so I gave him some sage advice.

You should tell her that you're scum.

Scum? What is it?

It means you're a really great guy. It's like a special nickname.

I try.

So he tells her that he would really like to take her out after her shift and that she should feel comfortable with him because he is scum. She said simply: "I'll bet you are," set down our ice cream, and walked away. Lech was furious but I was pretty happy with myself. Of course I humiliated Mom and it made the rest of our time with him difficult but I didn't care. I wrote scathing letters to my friends back home about Mom and Lech and couldn't wait to talk about it when I got back. One of the letters I wrote was entirely in rhyme and I would do nearly anything to get my hands on it now.

As it turned out, when I got home I didn't have anyone to laugh or joke with. The friends I thought I had were gone.

to be continued...

New Project

2010-10-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

Since the July project tapered off with no real ending I want to start another project right now.

2 pages per day for one month. No idea if I can do it or if it will be any good but I need to get a routine going. It probably won't all make it to this blog.

The need for an activity partner has become obvious of late. It frustrates me to no end that I can call or text 3-5 people, or even email way in advance about something I know they'd like, and then end up going alone. I am quite aware that I not always available when friends would like me to be and I don't have my phone on hand 24/7, but come on. If I say let's go to the Moth Story Slam two months in a row, how could I end up there by myself? You don't want to go to an inversion workshop at the yoga studio? That's ok, I can do that on my own.

It's because the friends I have here are coupled off, don't go out on school nights, (and actually I rarely do too but...) are pregnant or have a little one, or just don't do things I like anyway. It's no problem to take myself out on dates, but I really don't want to go to some things by myself. I've ended up drinking on the couch alone several times over. That Sex and the City show had it all wrong. At least it's the season for pumpkin beer.

Cooking for myself is incredibly boring too. Last week I made a delicious pasta with a spinach goat cheese sauce that was heavy on the garlic. I ate it everyday and I guess I was lucky to be alone, otherwise no one would want to get near me.

Similarly, two weeks ago I made an unbelievable sauteed veggie medley of: rutabaga, parsnip, leek, brussel sprouts, carrots, parsley root, and turnip. It was soooooo good. It was just sauteed in a pan with a little butter and fresh thyme for 10 minutes. I highly recommend this as a Thanksgiving side, but watch out. Due to the veggies involved you might be better off eating this one alone also.

I've been busier than I have been in years, but in a good way. I haven't cared much for going out, but when I do it hits me with a vengeance. The body says, "Why haven't you put a pretty dress on me in a while? Where are your cute earrings? God damn it, take me out!" This usually ends up in a coffee date with a friend in which I wear jeans and barely make it out the door with hair combed or teeth brushed. Time to join another meet-up group.

It's not two pages, but it's a start.

Work

2010-09-29T12:38:00.001-07:00

I need to work for myself.

Leggo My Preggo

2010-09-27T22:04:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I went to a party and chatted with a very pregnant acquaintance and an EMT for hours. I'd truly like to know how many men go to parties and end up talking about all the horrors that can go wrong in a vagina. Somehow a light hearted conversation about my fear of blood tests ended up in talk of baby's heads getting stuck, forceps, forcefully breaking the water, blue babies, how to resuscitate blue babies, pitocin, etc. I stared longingly at the room with the husbands in it, wondering why I don't know a damn thing about sports.

Of course I've had conversations such as these when I actually bothered to ask friends about their experiences, but I assure you the information was never shoved down my throat while at a party for christ's sake. I mean when they were talking about the "vacuum" I nearly fainted right there. Really, didn't these ladies see me pulling on the same strand of hair for a half hour and tugging at my lip? How about all the times I half sat up, then sat back down? I don't know what I could have possibly done to disguise my discomfort.

What a way to dash all my hopes and dreams. I can't stand doctors and nurses and hospitals; yuck to all of it. For a woman that really wants to get married and have children, I hope I never fucking get married or have children. For a while there I preferred to have a child first and then get married when I'm older, but whatever. I've put too much pressure on myself for years and I'm caring less and less about these institutions. In fact, the more time I spend with family and the more parties I go to, the more I think it's all a lousy idea. Cynicism has entered the building.

Eventually I found myself in the other room. I said something to the degree of: "I heard the Bears are playing the Mariners in a couple weeks." Oops.

Even today when I was stuck in the worst traffic I've seen in years, I had no idea what was going on. I was on the 290 trying to merge to 90/94 for a full 25 minutes when I finally cut over to Congress and went through downtown. While waiting for a light I saw a woman in a Packer's sweatshirt. Oh.

It took me an hour and a half to get home and if I stayed on the highway it probably would have taken 2. Guess I just can't be a sports fan.

Closed for Suck It

2010-09-26T20:54:00.000-07:00

The Starbucks I go to these days is right next to a very popular kosher restaurant. Last week they built a sukkah in front of Starbucks for the holiday of Sukkot. It's just a tent really and I have no idea if their customers eat their meals in it or what, but that's what it's for.

Last Friday we had rather strong winds and the sukkah blew down. I drove by and saw that half of it was up, and the other half was in danger of making it's way into the street.

Yesterday I went to the Starbucks to do homework and noticed that no one had done anything about it. I asked the manager if the sukkah belonged to the restaurant and he said yes.

Aren't they doing anything to fix it?

Well they were closed Friday for Suck It.

Do you mean Shabbat?

No, it's a holiday. Suck it.

Oh riiiiiight. Gotcha. OK.

I know it's an eyesore. I called the building manager and asked if I could help put it back up, but he said I can't do that kind of work on a Saturday.

Of course! (it was hard to mask the laugh at this point)

Religion cracks me up.

I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME

2010-09-22T21:05:00.000-07:00

My yoga instructor told us a story about her son recently. He didn't want to eat what they made for dinner and proceeded to have an enormous tantrum over it. He wasn't prone to tantrums and they were at a loss of what to do. Her husband sent their son to his room for time out, but once in there he kicked stuff, threw stuff, yelled and cried for a long while. She decided she was going in.

Once in his room she quietly sat down on her knees and watched him. She just sat there and said nothing. He stopped for a moment and asked her "Mommy, are you doing yoga?" But she still said nothing. He yelled a little more and walked around the room but grew tired of it and eventually sat down across from her for a staring contest. She whispered, "I need to talk to you and we're not going to talk any louder than this. Ok?" He nodded. She explained that she doesn't know what he needs when he is that angry and she really would like to know what can be done. She said that she couldn't give him mac and cheese so she needed to know what was going to calm him down and make it ok. He thought about it and said, "I want you to hold me."

"So you're telling me that when you get that mad you just want me to hold you?"

"Yes."

So she held him until he was ok to come back to the dinner table and eat a little. A couple days later he threw another, louder tantrum about something else. She felt spent and decided to send him back to his room for time out so she could compose herself for a minute. Shortly after this she heard him shout, "I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME!!!!!" And so she held him and it was over.

She made a sort of cheesy reference about how this is what yoga means and I smiled thinking about how cute her story was.

A couple days after this class I was walking down Michigan Avenue feeling overwhelmed and welling up. Instead of shouting I settled for whispering in my mind: I want someone to hold me.

She was right then. By going to yoga I give myself a time out, and I ask the universe to hold me.

Between The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

2010-09-20T20:48:00.000-07:00

Yes I want and intend to get an apartment you dumbshits.

I have a "situation." That's what my mom likes to call "money troubles." The funny thing about the "situation" is that it isn't mine, but in the process of helping others I fell behind.

Now there are classes and too many obligations. In just a little while it will all be sorted. I think.

My biggest problem is that the plan was to have MY OWN APARTMENT. My own, with pink curtains and daisy covered dish towels and an antique-looking Victorian couch that isn't gaudy or ridiculous. Finances and school have made me realize that I will once again need a roommate or a live in boyfriend or a someone to share things with. It can't be family so it's got to be someone else.

This is an irritation beyond belief. I HATE that I can't manage this right now without living in a dump. I've certainly seen some apartments that have given me relief about living with family instead. I mean, they have HBO. How did I live without Bored To Death before?

I need help. Assistance. In the past I always wanted to meet men that had careers. It wasn't because I thought I needed to be taken care of. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't taking care of some over-grown baby that has nothing to talk about other than music. So maybe I'm the over-grown baby now and I can't get out of a bad cycle.

I told Dad that I'll be leaving soon and he looked devastated.

What happened?

Are you kidding?

Was it something specific? You don't have to move away again.

I can't breathe. I have to breathe. The last time I was breathing was in California.

He sighed. Did we do something wrong?

I'm not doing anything nice for you people anymore. I'm too nice to everyone.

Hey! I didn't ask for anything!

And so on. Of course should I leave again, what will I write about? Brownies, and how I can't cook them for shit?

Epic

2010-09-15T20:14:00.000-07:00

The other day my uncle wanted me to address an envelope to Lithuania because supposedly he has poor handwriting. So I did it and later while I was totally engaged in something else he interrupted me.

Aviva. Aviva. Tsk Tsk. What's wrong here?

Huh?

What's wrong?

What's wrong with what?

The envelope. Take a good look.

I don't know. What is it?

I'll give you three guesses.

Uncle. Please.

Look closely. Look at the return address then look at the Lithuania address and tell me what is wrong.

What is it? Just tell me.

You forgot to put Vilnius. Vilnius, Lithuania.

Oh ok. Can you write it in?

No. You write. Now.

Now? I'm in the middle of something.

Now. Because I'm mailing tomorrow.

A couple days later I was outside with my mom admiring her garden. I cut some basil for a pesto I was making and commented that it is really nuts to grow this much.

We'll never use all this basil. How much pesto can we make?

I'm thinking I should sell it in a market next year.

I've been telling you to do that for years. You could make flower arrangements and sell vegetables too.

Yeah. Everyone is telling me I should do this type of work.

I've been telling you that forever!

Maybe you could help me at a market next year.

Oh.

Then I took Grandma shopping for shoes. This woman has needed decent shoes for the last three years but refuses to get comfortable old lady shoes because then people will know she's old. For the last year I told her that I knew of a place where she might like the shoes and they are not for old ladies. The trick to getting her there was to hijack her. She thought we were going to a department store for blouses but ha ha! The shoe store just happened to be near it and I got her to check out some Birkenstocks.

They have bump inside.

That's the arch support. It's what you want.

I no vant.

Grandma, you'll get used to it.

I no like. I have it pain in ankle and heeel.

Just walk around the store a little.

You makin me vork.

The salesperson helped her find a pair that she liked but didn't admit to. However, she walked around the store a few times without pressure from me, and ended up buying them. I felt like a hero. Then she wanted to do three other errands and lunch. I found to my shock, that Grandma has more shopping stamina than I do. I was so exhausted that I crashed for a nap when I got home.

Since I spend more time with Dad than Mom these days, he too has been expecting things from me that I wasn't planning on. He needs me to go grocery shopping with him. He needs me to check out the website he is building. He wants me to help him purge the house of more junk and convince Mom to let him do it. He needs me to listen when everyone else is driving him crazy. I can't complain much about him because he drives me to the train when I don't have a car available.

Since it has been a full year of living at home and I managed not to end up in a mental hospital, I'd like to thank myself for being an awesome fucking person.

Gouge Away

2010-09-12T20:42:00.000-07:00

You ate my organs.

Don't be ridiculous.

You did. And now I am walking around this city hollow.

What were you doing with them anyway?

Living.

No you were not. Not at all. So I ate them. Big deal.

Where is creativity supposed to come from if I am hollow?

That's your fucking problem.

Did you have to eat them?

I did. Yes. What makes you think that I shouldn't have?

Well they were mine for starters!

What constitutes mine?

Inside my body!

Irrelevant detail. They were also mine. You weren't using them properly so I took them and will use your life source for better things.

Better things than living and breathing and trying?

Get over it. I'm in charge now. Being hollow isn't so bad.

I've been hollow before but I don't want to be again!

What are you going to do about it? I ate your organs again.

Kids in America

2010-09-06T19:12:00.000-07:00

At a BBQ with the family recently my uncle talked about his trip to Lithuania, and Mom gossiped about the relatives with Grandma. I blamed the bees for leaving early.....

Donusia said that Aushra packed Chrisha's apartment with all her things and then took off for London.

No. Chrisha said that Aushra bought a van with borrowed money and then couldn't pay anyone back so that is why she left for London.

That's what I said, weren't you listening? So Aushra left everything with Chrisha. Chrisha says that no one is nice to her except Donusia.

She deserve! She cold voman.

Aushra's daughter Agnehshka had a baby with a man that didn't want to marry her and now her life is ruined.

Oh my god Mom. How old is she?

27.

You think she ruined her life because she had a child at 27? You've got to be kidding.

No one will marry her now.

Are you living in this decade?

Yes Aviva. We are. They are not.

You should have seen all the churches they wanted to show me. Churches and churches and churches.

I no can believe. How dis happen to my family?

They wanted to save me with their Jesus.

Very prejudice zhere. Dey all crazy goin.

I told you. I told you they went to religion. Aushra's son was going to be a priest remember?

No no that vas Andrej's son. Jonthathan. No. Christopher. I no can vemember.

Donusia told me that Aushra's son Pietchka is rude to Chrisha.

Who care about the Chrisha? She vas alvays hard woman. I calling to her vhen her husband die and later they make story about vashing machine need it. She never calling me only vhen need it vashing machine!

Eema, stop being so hard on your sister. She's not so bad! She was really nice to me and made very good soup.

I telling him not gibe dem any money!

Eema, calm down.

Did you meet Pietchka?

No I didn't. I met Donusia's daughter Maritke and her boyfriend. Nice boy. They seem like a nice couple.

I don't think her daughter is as religious. You know when they buried Marysia in a Jewish cemetary, Maritke said that she didn't care what her grandma was, she loved her anyway.

Anyvay!

Mama. That's all she knows.

Aviva, one day we were walking, Chrisha and Donusia and me and all of a sudden they got down on the ground and started praying by an exposed pipe in concrete.

What was it?

I have no idea. They wanted me to take a picture of it because it was some kind of holy site.

Did you take a picture?

No.

My sister! My sister! Thanks god Marysia not get like dem.

Eema, what can you do? They like the Jesus, so let them have it. It was a good experience, I learned something.

I vould goin vhen Marysia alive but now not. Not eben my bones could carry me.

I have no interest. Let them keep their sob stories.

You wanted to go before!

Yes and now forget it. You know I was contacted by the cousins in Israel don't you?

Which?

Meela and Zeeva and Nir.

Meela and Reema?

No! Meela and ZEEVA. Reema is in Australia.

I thought Kira was in Australia..........

Parade of the Horribles

2010-09-05T19:13:00.000-07:00

I don't know why nearly every conversation with my grandmother these days is a feat of strength but it is. Ideas on how to stay positive and uplifting fly away.

First lengthy description of back aches. Knee aches. Toe aches. Heel aches. Doctor says this doctor says that.

Next drugs. First she wanted brand name then they sent generic. Then she wants generic they send brand name. Supposed to be sent 3 bottles was sent two. Hours on the phone with Medicaid and they sent it a month late to begin with.

How about some grapes? No. I'm not hungry.

Then my mom. Mom is depressed Mom is anorexic Mom is this Mom is that. She cries because she wants to help Mom but can't. Mom can only be helped by not having to deal with her- can't tell her that.

Do I want to eat a nectarine? No I don't.

Where was I during the storm? I was home. Oh thanks god. I explain that I love storms and it's the best time to cuddle up with a book or watch a movie. No I'm crazy. Storms are scary and awful and she couldn't sleep the whole night worried that we would all get hit by lightening.

Really? I sleep the best during a storm. Oh I must be kidding. It's impossible! A tree might fall on the house! Aren't I worried about trees and lightening? No I'm not actually. Especially since I'm inside. But it's happen! She sees on TV many houses being ruined by a storm. Yes but we are in a brick building surrounded by other brick buildings in a heavily populated area, not a cornfield. No it can happen.

Would I like a cookie?

No I wouldn't. I am not hungry. Ok, ok. Resigned.

Chapter 6: Army of Me

2010-09-02T19:38:00.001-07:00

Top five things I have failed at:

5: Independence

4: Finances

3: Relationships

2: Adulthood

1: Graduate school

Oh dear.

Take, Take, Take

2010-08-31T20:10:00.000-07:00

At the end of July I realized just what I had done in one month: gave Dad an excellent birthday outing, epiphany about technology at job, spontaneous trip to Israel with Mom, awful experience in Istanbul with Mom, quit job, helped Uncle get sorted for Lithuania, visited Dekalb, gone through months of school paperwork, looked at apartments, epiphany about my insanity, and prepared to go to California on August 4. That was all besides regularly going to yoga while in town and cooking all kinds of crazy stuff I've neglected to mention in the blog.

I re-read some journal entries and one from July 30, 2010 really struck me. There I was still filled with confusion and doubt when I wrote this:

Today I woke up and decided to read in bed for a while. Then I decided to cook sweet potato burritos. Then I decided to cook 2 banana breads with pumpkin seeds and cranberries. I also decided to take myself out to a movie. Why is it that some decisions big or small are so easy, so obvious that all you have to do, is do it? Take time to do what you want.

Despite questioning myself in this manner I continued to burden my mind with what ifs and maybe I shoulds. A few people said that it was possible that I just wasn't going to decide this year and that I need more time. Impossible. I have to try something and I have to try it now!!! NOW NOW NOW.

A friend asked me what I would do for free and whatever that is then I should pursue it. I told her it was impossible and ridiculous because then I would be broke forever. But after that conversation I remembered all the agony I put myself through in the last 4 years to find something "right" for me. I'm pretty sure now that you're not supposed to have panic attacks and tears when you're following the "right" path.

As I'm looking back on my July and what would subsequently come to be in August, I can honestly say that what's right for you is often right in front of your face. All you have to do is take it.

Which brings me to the fact that I recently saw the movie Eat Pray Fuck You. I mean Love. Love. I read the book a while back and I can tell you honestly that I am a million times more interesting than Elizabeth Gilbert. She can totally suck it.

Similar to the Julie and Julia project, Elizabeth Gilbert takes herself on a brilliant odyssey of self discovery. She travels to Italy, India, and Indonesia in order to come to terms with her divorce and re-gain herself. She does whatever she wants when she wants to do it. I admire this type of spirit and have done similar things in the past. However, I did them while being a waitress or I charged them on a card. I did not have a year long trip funded by my publisher, meaning she knew the entire time that this experience would be a book. Doesn't that take away from trying to live in the moment?

Ok she's not that bad. She did some really nice things for others during her journey and I have to recognize that. She also extensively wrote about what yoga meant to her which was good but completely glazed over in the movie. Boo. The movie did an excellent job of showing her experiences in Italy but then it was lost. Here is my review:

I watched Julia cry in the house
I watched Julia cry with a mouse
She cried on the floor
She cried by the door
On the rooftop and in the tub
On the dock and in the club
Julia cries at a wedding
She cries on her bedding
I watched Julia cry a lot
So for me, this movie was shot

It's not true that I hated it, in fact Bali is now in my top ten list of places to visit. I just find it funny that people see this type of trip as a fantasy or the escapist woman's pipe dream. That was exactly how this movie was marketed. She lost everything because she lost her man so watch her do all kinds of crying and crazy stuff and then find another one! One that cries and is a great father! Yea! Everything is better now!

Like I said about Israelis, they take trips abroad all the time and they only need to know where and when. For us it's this huge deal and totally crazy for anyone, especially a woman to do this type of trip, hence the popularity of Gilbert's story. Most of us at some point have spent money on huge televisions or gadgets or clothing or books. If you added up those yearly expenditures they might have taken you to an exotic destination instead. I have no idea why people think that they will never be able to afford a trip abroad. You find ways to pay for all kinds of other stupid shit, why not give yourself an experience instead? I didn't agonize or cry or listen to anyone tell me I was crazy when I took trips in the past. I just took the opportunity.

The Passenger

2010-08-29T05:08:00.000-07:00

If I looked at my career choices as if it were a hop on hop off bus tour things make more sense. You miss one ride so you get on another.

The other day I had dinner with friends that had been in the peace corp and I told them of my missed opportunities and confusion. I said that I wished I took my energy four years ago and poured it into law. Instead, getting out of Chicago and traveling were top priority and I regret that now. They said I was nuts for looking at things that way. They said that was what I was supposed to do. Granted, they are an adventurous bunch but it brought me comfort to think that things are as they should be.

Another friend recently told me that I am unable to make decisions because I am in an unhealthy environment. The demands on me are too high here. When I think of it though I remember making seriously bad decisions in Seattle. Bad decisions on men, money, drinking, job, saturated fat, etc. I hopped off that bus and landed back in routine and stability.

My career counselor told me that I was well on my way to being a Renaissance Woman. Immediately I had a vision of myself in a long flowing skirt and awful corset with fat bulging out of every seam wearing Birkenstocks and eating a turkey drumstick. Needless to say I was highly insulted until she told me it was a cliched term for the woman of many interests. That's not so bad I guess.

Since my New Year's resolution for 2010 was to be more honest with everyone I can't believe that I forgot to include myself in that. Everyone mentioned that they heard me say, "I should do this.....I should want this.......I might try and.....I think I'm going to..." This isn't honesty. I can't believe that I've been saying those things for years.

I hope that I'm not easily influenced but things happen where I get romanced for a moment and then it flies away. In Israel I went out with a group of people one night and had a lengthy conversation with a man. He had been a scuba instructor in Honduras for two years right after serving in the army. His favorite place to travel was South America and he learned to speak Spanish fluently. He moved back to Israel to do school but intends to work in the EU because his parents were from Sweden. There was a moment where I thought: I can't believe that I have never dated a guy like this. This was they type of guy that I should have met years ago on one of my own adventures.

I recalled some of my travel experiences and there were sexy moments but never a real connection with another interesting person. In Prague I had a wild ecstasy fueled romance with an American guy. I vaguely remember making out with him in the halls and on the floor of our hotel while people had to scoot around us to get past. Mr. America and I were so destroyed for the duration of that trip that somehow he ended up showing my passport to security at the airport. I never spent a sober moment with him.

I definitely remember my make-out session with an Irish guy after a brewery tour in New Zealand. He was going down on me in a public bathroom when two locals walked in and laughed their heads off. We left and went to the bar across the street but unfortunately that was were the guys had gone and announced their findings to everyone. I was mortified at the applause and Mr. Ireland said that he wished it was the other way around they had found us in. Thanks a lot Ireland.

So when I say that I "should have" met someone like Mr. Israel on my travels, the fact remains that I've met plenty of guys and tried plenty of stupid things and they were always wrong. The idea that I "should have" something better is a notion that really holds me back from making real decisions. I should have been a teacher. I should have volunteered at that kibbutz years ago. I should have blah blah blah. When Mr. Israel stood up from the table to say goodbye, I found out that he was much shorter than me. You can call it superficial if you want, but the fantasy went right out the window in an instant.

I should have moved to Dekalb? Nope. I got off that bus. It was going the wrong direction.

Add It Up

2010-08-28T17:21:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in the midst of my personal drama my uncle decided to use his mileage to go to Lithuania. He was inspired by Mom to get a free flight so his itinerary was as follows: Chicago to Detroit, (7 hour layover!) Detroit to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Vilnius. It was going to take nearly 24 hours to get there and he was leaving a week after scheduling this flight. The trip was set for August 2.

A couple days before his trip Grandma was agitated because the airline hadn't set him any tickets.

How he goin wizout ticket?

I'm sure he has a confirmation number.

No. You need it ticket.

Grandma, you don't need tickets anymore. A number should do it.

They said they send him.

Ok well I'm sure he'll get them in the next few days.

In few days he leaving!

I can look up his seat on the computer.

So my uncle came upstairs the next day and showed me the confirmation number. I found his flights and printed his itinerary, only they had everything up to Amsterdam and back. No Lithuania. He said that they were putting him on a small plane for that leg and he was sure it was ok. I told him that he better get the info so at least he knows when and where to board and I also said that he should do something about that 7 hour layover in Detroit.

He was going to visit and stay with family which is both stupid and exciting. Mom said over and over what an idiot he was for doing this. She said that he is gullible and they will coax him into giving them a bunch of money.

Uncle doesn't have any money to give them so what difference does it make?

They will give him a sob story you'll see. They've been doing it to me for years and believe me, they are better off now than we are.

I know but still. Just be happy for him. I'm sure it will be an interesting experience. I wanted to go a few years ago. I wish I could have met all of Grandma's sisters.

It's totally crazy.

Mom. We were in Israel a week and a half ago. Crazy is a relative term in this family.

The day before his flight Uncle walked up to me in his pajamas and handed me his phone.

Tell her to fax you the itinerary.

Hi. Ok well. Um hi. Yes I'm his niece........Right.........Yes we have a fax...Could you just email it to me instead?........Ok it's........

This interaction was beyond my uncle. He has nothing to do with technology whatsoever and was expecting tickets in the mail like it used to be. Grandma made him paranoid that he wasn't going to be able to get on the flight. He couldn't believe that it worked this way and blamed the airline over and over for being unorganized. I told him that he should probably get an email address.

It's ridiculous. They were supposed to send it!

I know but it will be fine with just this. This is all you need. You have a confirmation number and you know what your flight numbers are. You're fine.

What am I supposed to show them?

Nothing. You only need the number and your passport. You'll see when you check in. There are these kiosks and....

Aviva. You have to show them tickets and your passport.

Uncle, trust me. You have everything you need.

I want two copies of everything.

Then Grandma interjected that maybe I was right about how things worked in the airport here but things are different in Europe.

Grandma, listen. They have everything we have and once you check in for one flight they check you all the way through.

No. You're vrong. You no know what it's like zhere. He has to have ticket!

Grandma, I travel a lot remember? He is going to be fine with just the confirmation numbers and his passport.

How can it be? Just a number? Is ridiculous. When I trabel wiz your mama we have to show papers!

Yes I know. But you went to Vilnius in 1974.

I know you have to have it. Papers.

Sigh. This family is lost without me.

The "tickets" arrived after Uncle had left for his trip. Grandma asked me if she should send them to her niece in Lithuania but I convinced her not to.

A Room of One's Own

2010-08-26T20:03:00.000-07:00

Obviously my mental health deteriorated in July and I will admit this now. I talked the heads off of nearly all my friends about the situation and I talked to my career counselor for 2 hours! Looking back on all of this a month later I can tell you that I now know I am certifiably insane. Not only was I unsure and upset about Dekalb but back in March I was tempted by yet another program which I applied to and was admitted. I wasn't in love with either idea and decided on law in Dekalb. I'm tired of being the restless dreamer and want very badly to be academically challenged and to learn something useful. It seemed to be the best choice and make the most sense. Or so I thought.

The apartment search in Dekalb didn't help. I finally took a trip out there on July 28 and was astonished at the quality of apartments. A 19 year old guy showed me two buildings and ruled one out due to it being next door to a frat house. This was a tricky situation because I never lived in a college town and didn't know what to expect. This is also at a time in my life when I thought shitty apartments were a thing of the past. Not so.

It was lucky that I got the young guy to show me around because he was naive and not at all a salesperson.

What's going on with the ceiling?

Oh there was a huge flood but they've patched it up now. They'll have it covered up again before school starts.

Why does this room have all that plastic sheeting up?

Oh it used to be a computer room for the building but they had to close it due to vandalism.

Are they going to um, re-paint? Or is it like this?

They painted last week.

Words cannot describe the disappointment. I understand that once involved with classes you would probably forget or not care about the condition of your living space, but maybe I cared too much already. I found other nicer buildings, some of which were only for grad students and families and they were pretty good. I could see it. I saw the benefit of doing something like this and it drowned me in sorrow. I wished I did it 4 years ago when I really wanted to. I wouldn't have given a shit then about the apartments or the debt or the time involved. Something changed when I moved away. Something made me a huge snob that can't live like that anymore. There was a window in my life to do this and I may have closed it.

I took two applications home and they sat on my laundry bin for a week.

Chapter 5: Under Pressure

2010-08-25T18:57:00.000-07:00

Several people have emailed and called worried about my sanity. Thank you for the inquiries but I assure you I am fine. Really. All I needed after the unexpected Israel trip and subsequent quitting of my job was to get an apartment, register for classes, move to Dekalb, IL, and attend a birthday party in California. I needed to do all of that in 2 weeks. No problem.

Immediately after leaving my job on the 23rd I checked online for apartment listings and made some appointments to see places the following week. Unfortunately some of the craigslist offers were way off the mark. For example:

Master bedroom with private bath available in a shared house......

This was actually a 16 room boarding house with tenants between the ages of 19-65. When I asked if the older people worked at or attended the college the answer was no. The landlord made mention having to work on the noise problem and needing to let some tenants go this year, hence the availability of the "nicer unit." All 16 rooms had one kitchen to share. Oh my.

Then there was this one:

1 roommate needed to share a 3 bedroom townhouse. Current tenants are clean, quiet, respectful full time students.

This was actually written by a parent who bought a town home for her 19 year old son and didn't live near the area. He was sharing it with a friend and his mom said that I would have to be interviewed by them to see if I was a good fit. I told her that it probably wasn't the right situation for me since I was 31 and a law student. She just laughed and laughed. Oh my.

I received a letter from my school on that weekend explaining how orientation was a mandatory 4 day experience lasting from 9-4 each day. It was to start on August 9..........but I was scheduled to fly back to Chicago at night on the 10th. Oh no. No no no no no. You see what happens when you have a million things on your plate? The first day of school was going to be August 17 and I thought that I gave myself enough time to do all of this. I was not expecting another major obligation.

I talked to the dean of admissions and she asked if there was any way I could change my flight so I could make it back in time. She said most schools didn't do this but it was a series of necessary workshops to prepare you for legal writing and research. She said the letters went out very late for this and several students had complained. Well that's just great!

Panic attacks started.

3am full on I am freaking out and this hasn't happened in years oh my fucking god what have I done what should I do I don't think I want all this stress I should have been more prepared for all this why didn't they explain this shit earlier I can't believe I agreed to go to California so last minute I have to stop doing nice things for everyone else I am so tired from this trip and finally so happy to have left that job and now am a wreck what do I do and what if I lose another opportunity and what the fuck what the fuck have I done how am I going to fix it I can't believe I was in Israel last week at least I have a back up plan but still this was supposed to work and I don't really want to change the flight and what is wrong with me I should do everything possible to make this work I don't know if I can handle this and why didn't I quit earlier I must be the most pathetic person in the world and who on earth would give up law school and I did really want it several times this year but not all year and maybe I should just do the other but no I always talk myself out of everything there must be a way and I am just going to have to I should do this I should.........

Thanks a lot Giada

2010-08-24T19:13:00.000-07:00

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Giada De Laurentiis for ruining my fucking evening! All I wanted was to make this beautiful apricot crostata pictured here in her book, Giada's Family Dinners when I notice not one but two errors in the recipe!!!

It clearly says in the ingredient list that the juice and rind of one lemon goes into this dessert, but then the juice is not mentioned in the recipe itself. AH HA! Gotcha you lousy editors you.

I would normally go so far as to say that they didn't even test this recipe but since I watched her make it on her show last week I know that isn't true. However had I not watched it or if I didn't know much about butter dough, I wouldn't know to add flour on the surface of the parchment paper before you roll out your dough. This also was not mentioned in the recipe. AH HA again! I didn't add enough flour and the dough was pulling apart on me. I managed to add more butter to force the splitting pieces together but what a mess. It looked nothing, NOTHING like the picture above. What a bitch.

I also believe the actual bake time should have been 35 minutes and not the 40 suggested in the book. I burned the damn thing. Luckily the family gobbled it anyway and saved me a sliver but still. That's not the point. I bet the skinny bitch doesn't even eat any of her own cooking, so how would she know if it's any good?

What the fuck? She gets to make millions and look all pretty on the cover of her book and yet give me false information? FOR SHAME! I needed something to work out and you know what? IT DIDN'T. It was simple enough so how come the recipe in the book isn't right? Huh Giada? Ok fine so now I know how to make a better one, still! Giada, you can kiss my administrative assistant ass wherever you are! And by the way, I am so much hotter than you so there.

There and Back Again

2010-08-22T18:56:00.000-07:00

In D.C. I felt ill. We had a short layover there until the last leg to Chicago. I barely slept on either flight over. We sat near four smelly men on our way to D.C. and I reached that point where you're uncomfortable no matter what. Can't sit. Can't stretch. Can't eat. So when I got to D.C. the rooms were spinning and I nearly fainted. I told Mom I had to go to the ladies room and she was asking me something about my bag. I said whatever and walked away and she insisted that she take my bag. No I needed to brush my teeth and I can't even talk anymore. I just kept the bag and walked on. It could have been hunger or dehydration or exhaustion but I felt very seriously ill. After freshening up I had to eat immediately so I looked for Mom but didn't see her. I figured she went back to the gate after walking with me to the bathroom.

I stopped for healthy snacks and an OJ and walked on to the gate which was about 25 feet away but she wasn't there. That was odd. I called her and she said she just went around the corner to call Dad and where was I? I told her to come back to the gate. D3. We had been there once already so I figured this was no big deal.

Too much time went by. I called her but she didn't have reception and it went to voice mail. The plane started to board. I called 5 times. Nothing.

I was about to ask them to page her when she called me crying.

Where are you? I don't know where I am!

What? I told you D3.

Why did you leave me? I don't know where I am!!

Oh come on. We're boarding. You were right down the hall, you couldn't have gone far.

You said B3.

No. D3. My god did you go all the way to another wing?

How could you walk away from me?

Just ask someone how to get here.

Mom arrived at the gate livid. She didn't even look at me. We had a little time if she wanted to get a snack too but she was too angry to grab anything and just wanted to get on the plane. I offered her my yogurt but she refused and blamed me for us nearly missing this flight as well.

No. No. No. I'm not taking any more drama. This is not my fault. I showed you where the gate was.

You shouldn't have left me alone. I wouldn't have walked out on you.

I didn't see you. I figured you went back to the gate.

I don't feel good.

You know what? I don't feel good either and I have nothing to apologize for. You should have been able to get yourself back 25 feet from where we started. Besides the gate was listed on your boarding pass.

I opened a book. She calmed down and tried to make small talk with me but I had snapped. I could no longer make conversation and please her. I thought we reached a good place sitting at that Gloria Jeans. We joked about how we would laugh about this someday and made fun of our flirtatious baristas.

We had talked extensively about the food in Israel: salad for breakfast and several white cheeses on wheat crackers, sweet yellow grape tomatoes to snack on, and Hana's wonderful home cooking. We went out to share a traditional Israeli breakfast one day and Inbar ordered Shakshouka for her son. I had never heard of this before and loved the name so much I had to have the recipe! Shakshouka is chopped tomato and red pepper sauteed in a pan with spices. Then you drop 2 eggs right in the middle and let the sauce cook them. It's delicious and simple.

I mentioned how much I liked it to Yanay and he said: Aviva, it's eggs and tomato.

I know! But it's so good. I've never made breakfast that way!

Aviva. It's eggs and tomato.

Still!

I thought of moments like that when I was on the last leg home. Something small to make me smile and realize that it was worth it to see these people and have a sense of family. It was overwhelmingly sad to have made it that far only to have Mom angry at me again for nothing. I wanted to have a special mother/daughter moment at some point during the ordeal but here we were in a perpetual state of drama. Some things can't be fixed and you have to accept circumstances the way they are. I wish I could help her be happier but now I know that I've done what I can.

There was talk of a real dinner when we got home but I was a wreck. Without saying a word to anyone I laid down and slept for 13 hours straight.

2 days later I went back to work and realized that I couldn't take anymore of that crap either. I gave notice that my final day would be that Friday, July 23.

The contract supervisor said: you know you're supposed to give a 2 week notice.

I know. But I'm not going to.

And on July 23 I finished my job and gained a little more freedom. Fuck them.

Hooray for Technology

2010-08-20T21:50:00.000-07:00

And so I could either wait until Lufthansa re-opened at 4:00am to see if we could get on another flight, or try calling Dad. I went back to the 24 hour post office, this time nearly losing it myself, and after 3 tries was able to get Dad on the phone. I told him our predicament to which he said, "how the hell did you do that?"

It doesn't matter now. I need your help. First I need you to text Mom and tell her that I'm ok and will be back to get her soon.

I also have to cancel your hotel reservation in Frankfurt.

Right. Well ok. I'll wait here and call you back.

Dad was able to cancel the hotel. He was also able to text Mom and she responded while I was on the phone. I told Dad he would have to try and find the flight online. In the meantime I was going to have to find Mom and get her through customs since I was not coming back with a boarding pass. Only I had no idea how to get back. I tried a few ways but became more lost. The airport was shutting down in several areas and I became frightened that I fucked up. I asked security guard after security guard and it seemed like they all gave me the wrong direction. By pure chance I ran into a man that helped me find the ticket sales counter in the first place and knew of my situation. He lead me back to customs but not quite all the way.

So I went backwards through customs and was screamed at in Turkish by a security manager. He screamed and yelled and I was so shocked all I could say was, "No! Please! You don't understand. I have to find my mother!!!!"

Panic had finally seeped in and tears were brimming as I had to explain to the hundredth person with little English where my mother was and why I needed to get her and bring her through. One security guard confiscated my passport and held me by the arm as I directed us back to Mom. She was talking to a nice Malaysian man who hugged her goodbye once I was spotted. The guard demanded to see Mom's passport and she stupidly pulled out the Israeli one. He got more cross and asked us a series of questions. I told her to get the damn US passport out but she was annoyed with him and started to complain again. She was somehow told that Israelis didn't need to pay for a visa to enter Turkey and I said, "who cares damn it? It's $25!!!" Then he demanded to see our expired boarding passes and asked where our luggage was.

I had no idea where it was. Turkish airlines at the ticket exchange assured us that if we didn't get on the plane then our luggage didn't either but who knew? It hadn't been the priority to deal with this whole time and I had no idea whatsoever of how to get it. So the guard followed us through every step of the way back and ended up being really nice when he saw us finally together and hugging on the other side. I actually hugged him in thanks too but to my dismay he was jeered by his co-workers.

Of all things in the Istanbul airport I amazingly found a 24 hour Gloria Jeans where we could sit through the rest of the night. At this point it was midnight and I figured Mom needed to freshen up while I texted with Dad and got our tickets.

Dad was able to find tickets for $325 each online but needed my credit card to pay for it since Mom had maxed out theirs. So the vacation that was supposed to cost me nothing now cost me a lot. I paid and we were issued a confirmation number. Now all I needed was to find our bags. Once Mom got back and ordered a coffee I set out to do so.

The way they have it set up is to dial a number for lost luggage and an airline attendant will help you. I dialed about 4 times and consistently got a busy signal. I managed to find an attendant who directed me toward a crowd of people waiting to find their luggage. No one spoke English but after some hand motions and a half hour wait I was led to the holding area. Only staff is allowed in so once again they took my passport. It took some talking and waiting and sorting but since I kept the bag claim receipts it was easy for them to find it. (KEEP YOUR CLAIM TICKETS PEOPLE) This was the simplest part of the evening.

I went back to Gloria Jeans at 1:30am and rested there until 4am when we could check in. A long journey still awaited us.

Istanbul Airport

2010-08-19T22:07:00.000-07:00

It got ugly. We had to get back to ticket exchange. They gave Mom the whole shpeal they gave me except when she asked if there was a return flight straight to Chicago, they said not until Wednesday because the flight on the 17th was full, and she had a total nervous breakdown. This one was larger than the first; wailing about having to start a job on Monday and how we can't stay the night here and refusing to get a hotel in the area and that her husband was out of work and she just wanted to see her friend!!!!!!

I kept asking her to be calm. Focus. All we need is to find a way out of Istanbul and then we will figure out the next step. They said that I could go through customs and up to sales and leave Mom there where she can sit. I could come back with the boarding passes. I convinced her to let me go without her and left her telling our woes to a nice Kenyan man.

After passing through customs I ran upstairs to the Turkish airlines windows and explained my situation slowly and calmly.

I can't help you.

I waited 60 whole seconds before I breathed, What?

I can't issue you another ticket. You got this through United Airlines. You have to contact them.

How?

Information.

Oh my god.

Luckily Information had the information and I was off to pay for the most expensive phone call of my life. Even luckier was the fact that the post office inside the airport where I was calling from took dollars and didn't drop my call. Being on hold forever makes you seriously worried that you are going to lose the one guy that says he is going to help you so I welled up and allowed a couple tears to fall. The man waiting to use the phone offered me his assistance and gave me his name number and told me where he worked. Ahmet seemed sincere but then again could be a human trafficker so I got more upset. Finally the guy on the phone said there were no further flights he could put me on using the mileage and we would have to pay.

Ok. Fine. No problem. How much?

Lufthansa has room on a flight tomorrow morning at 5:55 am that would get you to Frankfurt in time for the connection to D.C.

Great. Ok. How much?

Ma'am, if you buy them from me they will be $1000 each.

Huh? Are you serious? What do you mean if I buy them from you?

Ma'am, they are listing a few other prices. I can see they have flights available for $500 each but you would have to go to the Lufthansa counter and buy them there.

You're telling me that you see tickets available for half the price but you can't sell them to me?

Yes ma'am, I'm afraid so. It's late there now so I suggest you head over to their counter. If you can't get them at the counter you can call back.

Oh my god.

I hung up and ran back to Information to find out where Lufthansa was. Then I ran to the counter.

They were closed.

Chapter 4: And Then

2010-08-17T15:31:00.000-07:00

On July 15 we kissed and hugged our friends and family and we cried as a taxi pulled up to take us to the train. Hana held me for a minute and said "Your mother is interfering too much with your life. You must go now. If you wish to come here we will take care of you, but you must leave your home. It's time."

I tried to understand Mom more on this trip. It was the first time we ever vacationed together and I feel like I learned a lot. S ometimes the things we don't want to do end up being the best things we do. Mom is much more fragile than I realized. I knew I had to step up and take care of things during the trip and we were about to embark on an awful return trip: Tel Aviv to Istanbul, Istanbul to Frankfurt, overnight in Frankfurt, Frankfurt to D.C. and finally D.C. to Chicago on the 16th. This is what you get when the airline flies you for free.

The first flight was delayed for some time so we shopped at my favorite jewelry designer's store, Michal Negrin. The jewelry is a quarter of the price at the airport. Mom bought herself a simple but beautiful necklace and tried to spend crazy money on me but I convinced her not to. When we got back to the gate we still had time so I told Mom I wanted to check out some books, but really went back to buy her matching earrings.

In Istanbul we had about an hour and a half so we shopped at the old bazaar store for some trinkets to bring for friends. We had already gone through the flight connection checkpoint and I knew where our gate was. I needed to get something to drink and then Mom wanted to get some silly airport pictures of us and then I looked up at the board and it said LAST CALL for our flight. I was like, huh????? How was that possible? I had this taken care of!

Mom and I started running down to the gate while she screamed behind me, "You better not have made a mistake!" We made it to the gate at 7:40 with a boarding time of 7:45 and I thought we were ok. But, they had another security checkpoint I wasn't expecting and despite the boarding pass listing 7:45 as the board time, it was really the flight time. Turkish airlines has a 15 minute policy about this and did not let us on the plane. We could see the plane and we were about 5 feet from the gate but they didn't let us on. We weren't the only ones this happened to. Security told me to run upstairs and talk to the Turkish airline attendants in the office and maybe they could open the gate for us. I RAN.

Mom yelled, "where are you going?" I turned around quickly and said, I'm going to try and get us on that plane! Stay there! I'll be right back!"

The office workers were behind an unmarked door in a hallway that took asking 5 people about before I could find it. They were nice but said that I had to go to "ticket exchange" and get on another flight. They said there might be another flight with a different airline to Frankfurt and we'd be ok. Going back to ticket exchange meant a lengthy hike back to the area where we had the flight connection checkpoint. I had to show my passport and boarding pass to about a million people in order just to get there. Finally I had two friendly guys help me at the counter but I was embarrassed by everything and realized very quickly that it was getting late. If we didn't get on a plane soon we'd be stuck in Istanbul. The guys asked where I was coming from and I blurted out, "Tel Aviv. Don't be mad! I like everyone I swear!"

They smiled. They checked other airlines because that was the last Turkish flight to Frankfurt that night. They said I might be able to get on a different flight, maybe even a direct to Chicago, but I would have to talk to sales. In order to do that I had to buy a visa to officially enter Turkey, go through customs, get upstairs to the tickets sales area, and come back for Mom with the newly issued boarding passes. They said sales could help us find a hotel if the flight isn't until tomorrow. Good grief. I looked at the line for customs and realized I had been away from Mom for nearly an hour. I had to go back and get her. The guys walked me through and explained to other guards what was going on.

Arriving back at the gate I saw my mother in the arms of a fellow traveler, weeping uncontrollably. I waved but she was such a wreck she didn't see me. The man holding her said in a heavy German accent, "Look there! There is Aviva! There she is!"

She blubbered on about how she thought they were holding me in some cell and that she was never going to see me again. She said that she called and left me several voice mails begging me to come back to the gate. I told her my phone was still not working properly and thought she knew that. Then I said that she needed to sit down so that I could explain what we had to do. I shook the man's hand and thanked him for taking care of her.

Oh wow. I knew my mom had a dramatic streak but this was not the time! Luckily I had the sense to buy some water on my way back to her. She was shaking violently and could barely walk to a chair. She said, "I don't feel good. I don't feel good."

Ok. Try to calm down. I am taking care of this. I made a mistake and now I have to fix it. You have to come with me now.

No. There was a woman from Turkish airlines who saw me crying and she said she would get us on a flight directly to Chicago.

Mom, she was trying to make you feel better. We have to exchange our boarding passes and we can't do that here. Trust me I just talked to like a million people trying to fix this.

You're wrong. She said she could help us. She was a supervisor.

Fine, fine. Where is she now?

Upstairs in the office.

I already talked to them. Please you have to follow me.

Let's go talk to her. I know where she is.

We walked upstairs to the same unmarked door was was confronted by rude gentleman that barked at us to go down to ticket exchange. They couldn't help us.

Mom started anger tears. She yelled, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. I HAVE A JOB. I HAVE TO START MONDAY. I CAN'T BE STUCK HERE.

Then they got really pissed and started to walk away. She demanded to talk to the woman. They said she was on her dinner break. Mom wanted to wait for her. I asked this guy if the woman could really get us on another flight or if we had to go to ticket exchange anyway, and he said we had to go through the same procedure anyway to get the new boarding passes. I said ok , thank you and then she lost it.

How dare you undermine me when I am speaking.

Please I've been through this already. You need to follow me now.

Fine. Fine.

We walked away from the door and back toward ticket exchange all the while she is muttering, She said she was going to help us. We could have gotten on a direct flight to Chicago. If you would have just waited....

Right before leaving the area we couldn't go back to, I calmly said that if she really wanted to go back and wait for this woman I would wait but that she had to realize that I just ran around trying to fix this and I understand what to do.

What's the point now? No I don't want to. You never listen to me. Forget it.

Don't hold this against me. I don't think she can really help us. There is a procedure.

Forget it!!!!

As I pressed the elevator button she said under her breath, we were right there and you walked away instead of listening to me.

And then I lost it.

STOP GIVING ME SHIT!!!! I roared right in front of a woman in full burqa and her children..............

Over Too Quickly

2010-08-14T16:41:00.000-07:00

7/14/2010: email to Dad

Hi Dad. Well the trip is pretty much over now. I am super annoyed that we wasted the free airfare to come here for such a short time! Now that I'm here I don't want to leave! This is one of the places I've been to that always feels like a mistake to leave.

Mom woke up with a serious migraine today but after taking 5 Advil in less than 3 hours she was willing to go to Tel Aviv. I told her that I was pretty sure you're only supposed to take 4 Advil in 24 hours but she claimed that it was ok. We spent a lot of time getting there and then finding lunch so I didn't get to swim. We had to see some long lost relative of Mom's today so we were at the gorgeous beach for a whopping 20 minutes. I could tell Mom was disappointed too. I put my feet in and walked a little and that was it.

Tel Aviv is incredibly interesting. I need to go and spend a whole week there. On the beach we asked one girl for directions in Hebrew but she only spoke Portuguese. Guys playing catch on the beach dropped their ball and when I handed to them, they said, "Merci." Two random women starting speaking to Mom is Russian. It's a fascinating place. Inbar did her push for me to move there. She says Ronan would have no trouble hiring me and it would be an interesting job with travel. It's nice of her to offer. If I wasn't concerned with the loneliness it might be something to consider.

I realized today that I understand what they're saying. Somehow, whether just through the exposure or what I realized that I understand Hebrew. I don't think I was ever immersed in it this much before, but I get it!

The relative we saw today is 91 and we totally made her day by visiting. Mom was overwhelmed that the woman recognized her voice on the phone immediately and was excited to see her. I'm concerned that Mom wishes she had a big family so much that she is living in the past. She wants me to help her look up all kinds of people now and she wants me to get to know them. I think Mom feels like moving to America robbed her of family ties. She kept on saying, "See? You have a family!" I don't know how to make connections like this. It doesn't feel real to me.

People here are really nice though. If you ask someone for directions they will be your best friend all of a sudden. We encountered a few people just today that talked and talked and wanted to be sure we knew where we were going. It was so refreshing. Really I keep thinking of getting on the CTA and I don't know how to face it now. Their train is soooo nice. Not the buses so much though. Driving in Tel Aviv is insane. People in the bigger cities have too much aggression.

I hope you're having a good time alone. Tomorrow we have to get to the airport at least 3 hours ahead of the flight. Wish me luck with this insane return trip.........

Otra Dia

2010-08-13T22:54:00.000-07:00

In a journal entry on July 13, 2010 I wrote about the differences Mom would face if she were to live here. Currently Mom lives in a three bedroom apartment with a professional stove and oven, marble counter tops, has huge closets packed to the brim, and she owns a luxury car. This would all go if she were to move here and I think she is ok with that. Hana's flat is easily a third the size of my Mom's and she shares a car with her husband. She does not have a full bath, only a small shower and you have to squeegee the water from the floor into the drain. This is not a big deal and she has a nice place. She lives in a gorgeous neighborhood and can walk to various amenities, but the difference is incredible. So in the U.S. you have more opportunity to buy shit, so what? Does the ability to buy shit equal a better life?

Yanay mentioned to me that in all his travels to New Zealand, Australia, and several places in Asia, he did not meet one single American. I told him its because we don't have a culture that encourages world travel. He said in Israel it's not a question of going or not going, it's where and when. Each person takes an extended break from Israel usually right after the army. The "big trip" can last anywhere from a year to several depending on reserve duty. Yanay was called back during a trip to Canada because of the situation with Lebanon a few years ago. He can't imagine why on earth Mom wants to retire there. He thinks she might be having some sort of mid-life crisis. Yanay's best friend was killed in the clashes with Lebanon and each person we know in Israel has been touched by unspeakable tragedy.

His wife Shera said the army duty is the main difference between the Israelis and the Americans. They all have to serve and she believes it creates a resourceful and resilient population. She said you feel like you are doing something for the country and for the Jewish people. I never saw it like that. I always assumed that you would disagree with an assignment or feel conflicted or see it as a never-ending cycle.

Inbar took her family to the United States for six months this year. Her husband had a temporary assignment with a company and they got to experience real American life. They managed to go to Wisconsin Dells, Disney World, and suffered through an epic Minneapolis winter. I was impressed. She said that it was so funny how different things were. She felt that this was the first time her husband got to spend real family time with them. They do not have a 9-5 work day here and he often leaves at 7 and comes home at 8. They also have a 6 day work week, with only a half day on Friday for Shabbat and a full day off Saturday. Yikes!

Many people at her husband's work would say, "we should really get together sometime." And then it would never happen. Inbar said she learned this was a manner of speech and people didn't ever mean it.

No come on. Surely you made some friends with people at his work?

Not really. They all went home to their families and that was that. We eventually were invited over for a Superbowl party and there was another family we connected with but that was it.

Wow a Superbowl. You really had an American experience.

It was great! My kids were even taken to a "Little House on the Prairie" school so they could experience what it was like then. They were in an old schoolhouse and all the mothers and the kids had to dress up like back then. It was amazing!

Did you meet other moms there then?

Oh, same thing. I'll call you sometime. We should really get together. It took us a while but we finally understood it's just a saying.

What? You can't be serious.

Yes. Let me tell you, when I was traveling with Ronan in Argentina we worked for a company selling art and postcards. We would go to the shops and the owners would say, "otra dia." We know Spanish so it means another day. So ok, what day? Tuesday, Wednesday, you tell us when. It took us a while but we found out Otra Dia really meant Get Lost. So when Ronan came home from work I asked him if he made any plans and he would say, "otra dia." It was a running joke between us.

That's awful!

I felt truly terrible about this. She said that it ended up being a good thing because they had real family time and had wonderful experiences. If they had stayed longer she said she would have made more efforts also. I couldn't believe that they were so close to us for 6 months and we didn't bother visiting. I know we said that we should.....

The People

2010-08-12T11:31:00.000-07:00

7/12/2010: email to Dad

Dear Dad,

There is good news and bad news, well bad news from my perspective anyway. Bad news first: Mom is complaining non-stop, has cried about 8 times today and has blown up at me twice in public. I didn't do anything to provoke it. We spent the entire day today at a mall. AN ENTIRE DAY. First she was upset about not being able to find a suitable present for Hana. Then Grandma. Then she was angry the mall didn't have a place to do the eyebrows. I told her to let it go that we're only here for a week and she freaked out. The hand trouble is much worse, the allergies are much worse, the stomach is worse, the sweats are worse etc. I have no idea why we are here. This hasn't seemed to do anything for her yet. Mom doesn't know how to relax and let go of anything. Hana doesn't have any real plans for us so I don't get it. Hana commented to me yesterday that mom seems "not well." I feel helpless about it. So don't tell Grandma that part anyway. I thought this trip would help. She has said that she feels free though. It was definitely good to get away from Grandma and Uncle.

I asked Mom if we could spend a day at Haifa touring around or something but she intends to get the eyebrows, nails and toes done then go meet some long lost relatives that she hasn't called yet. She also needs to go to some office to deal with the passport issue. I'm trying to be a good sport and be along for the ride. She wants me to get together with Tania's son in Jerusalem but I don't know when.

The good news is that we watched the World Cup at Inbar's house with the whole family and it was really fun. They are such a nice group of people. I decided that they could be my honorary cousins because that's what it's supposed to be like when you get together with family. I like them a lot. Yanay offered to take me out tomorrow night which is really nice.

Honestly Dad besides the whole politics/enemy thing they have going on here it is a better quality of life. Hana owns her flat and there are no association fees whatsoever. No one fights with their pharmacy or insurance over brand name vs generic. No one is allowed an unaffordable credit line, and credit card companies don't stalk you to join them. The public transportation is efficient, clean, and easy to use. We took it today to the mall and it was a piece of cake. Everyone, I mean everyone speaks perfect English and look forward to the chance to practice it. Mom bought tickets for the train and spoke to the woman in Hebrew. After detecting another accent they switched to Russian. Then I asked Mom a question but the woman answered me in English. Switching languages was no big deal and it's something we think only linguists can do but here everyone does it like nothing. Going abroad reminds you just how much bullshit the US really is. If it wasn't for the security issue and political ugliness I would actually think Mom has a point about moving here. As it is, Hana watches the news about 5 times a day.

Mom says she misses you and wishes you were here. She also really loved the airline we took here. Continental is the way to go for international flights. It was comfortable, not packed to the brim, had good staff, decent food, and tons of movies to choose from. I finally got to watch Alice in Wonderland..........(etc.)

During a heart to heart at the mall I asked, "what are we doing here? is it really worth it just for a week?"

Yes it is. I want to be around my own people. Any amount of time would help. If I could just see what every day life is like for Israelis I will know what I can do next.

Bingo. I got it. She wants to live with people like her: people who switch languages, people who feel good in scorching hot weather, people who eat salad and white cheese for breakfast, people who have had similar families and backgrounds. It makes sense. After facing years of horrific prejudice from a nasty mother-in-law and dealing with disgusting customers at a thankless job, who wouldn't want to move somewhere they feel comfortable? I feel exactly this way during holidays, does it get worse? And so this feeling is why people move here. I always thought why the hell would you live in such turmoil when you could be in the States or the UK? I am starting to see why. I also thought she wanted to move to Israel instead of dealing with her situation better but no that's not it. It's possible that she never really liked or fit in to American life. Maybe she must move here. Maybe it would be nice if I visited more often.

Cousins

2010-08-11T13:43:00.000-07:00

7/11/2010: email to Dad

Hi,

We spent the day at a community pool today which was fun but could have been done at home. Mom is marveling at everything. Look a peach! A flower! Pomegranate trees! Oh boy.

I already have a small sunburn on my legs. Oops. Mom and Hana reminisced all day about their childhood growing up in Safed, and their parents, and kibbutz life vs Chicago life, and their choices later on. Hana dreams of retiring on a farm in Canada where it is peaceful and Mom dreams of retiring in Israel where she feels at home and at peace.

Hana says most of the country is in favor of giving away a piece of Jerusalem because there aren't any Jews living there anyway, so what difference does it make? Mom staunchly disagreed saying that it will make Israel look weak to give away a part of their capital. Hana laughed and said it would be the other way around and the more realistic choice. She said Americans feel differently because they don't live here and our media poisons us all the time. The only people in Israel that are against it are the deeply religious, people whom Hana believes are destroying the country more than any terrorist. Who knows what the deal is over there. I like Hana a lot.

Tonight we're going to Inbar's home and I guess we'll watch the world cup there. Hana and Arnon are routing for Spain. Luckily Hana's English is perfect otherwise I would just be listening to everyone talk in Hebrew. There was a lot of that yesterday.

I hope the census job is interesting and you're not in sketchy neighborhoods.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend.

Love,

An epiphany, the strangest feeling; a sensation of belonging. A real family, one with in-laws that wanted to spend time together. Siblings that enjoyed each other's company, and happy children trying to keep their eyes open to stay up later. This must be what it feels like to have cousins.

Chapter 3: Holy Land

2010-08-10T13:41:00.000-07:00

7/10/2010 email to my dad:

Dear Dad,

Hi. I have no idea what time it is in Chicago but here it is 12:41pm on Saturday right now. I am so confused I feel like I haven't slept or taken a shower in like 2-3 days. How strange.

We are currently at Hana's place and mom is in the shower. I told her to text you right away but she was too busy chatting up a storm. My phone isn't getting a service provider here.

We are ok. This is ok. I have a feeling one week will be plenty. That was a very, very long flight. It's hot and muggy here. Their place is tiny but nice.

You can watch my Netflix movie if you want, it takes place in Swaziland. It's in the den. Sorry I left a mess there but oh well. Mom said over and over how happy she is that I came. I didn't realize that she hadn't been on a plane in a long time and didn't know how the whole security/checking in thing worked now. I'm not so sure Mom would feel confident to travel alone, so I guess I did a good thing. I am not looking forward to the work week on the 19th. The jet lag will be brutal.

After this it's time to move on. Living with the family after 30 is an interesting experiment but it's done.

Anyway I really don't know what we're going to do here. Hopefully they have some plans to take us around. It's really pretty and those flowers mom loves are everywhere. Bougainvilleas.

I am exhausted. Mom didn't cramp up on the plane which is good but she seems a little over heated and exhausted too. Hopefully she will call soon. I will try to take a little nap. Luckily they have a computer in the room we're in so I can do this everyday.

Enjoy the peace and quiet.

Love,

Final Answer

2010-08-08T22:31:00.000-07:00

Oh no. No. No. No. No. No. Please. I can't.

Just go, what's the big deal? So you'll miss one week. You hate that job anyway.

That's not the point. I was going to give notice. Don't you care about my plans?

I don't see how one week is going to make that much of a difference. Just give them notice when you get back.

I really don't want to do that. I have plans.

Change them. It's just a week! I'm so excited. I can't wait! Can you believe I got the tickets a few days before?

What is the point of going for a week? With the travel days it will only end up being five days. What are your plans for five days?

Hana has plans for us. She said not to worry, just come. We could go for hikes, go to the ocean, the market...it will be beautiful!

That was the conversation on July 7th. Full of convincing and arguments and desire versus logic, something I am quite familiar with. My final answer was no. Dad told me not to feel bad and that it was her fault for just booking a ticket without talking to me and so on. She attempted to change the reservation.

United claimed that because she submitted the request as the two of us she would have to start all over and it was possible that she would lose her seat. As it was there weren't any further seats available and if they changed the seat to be ineligible for the use of mileage, there was nothing to be done.

Tears. Disappointment. Disaster. I spent the 8th of July thinking that I ruined my mom's plans by not being helpful and spontaneous. She spent the entirety of her day on the phone trying to work it out. All she wanted for her 60th birthday was to go to Israel and here was my chance to go with her. It was just a week. I could cancel my babysitting gig and tell work....what? Who in their right mind is going to believe that I needed a last minute luxury getaway to the Middle East?

I lied. I hate doing shit like this but it was never going to fly. Instead of telling my contract supervisor that I was leaving and my last day would be the 16th, I told her that my mom was ill. She previously had plans to go to Canada to visit family and was no longer sure she felt up to going by herself. Amazingly, a woman who I thought hated me and had previously given me a very difficult time, had simply said: "I don't see why not." I got the time off. It was a miracle.

Minutes after this worked out I received a text message from Mom that said she was able to get me off the reservation. I called back.

Are you kidding? I just got the time off? How am I supposed to explain this now?

OH! YOU GOT THE TIME OFF? I'LL CHANGE IT.

Oh god. Look if you can't change it, forget it ok? I thought I was doing you a favor. I'll come up with something.

No! Wait! They're still on the phone........(background noise).......ok. You're back on. But you're flying through Frankfurt on the way back.

WHAT? Look let me call you when I'm out of here.

Later on I found out that they weren't able to get me on a return flight with Mom. Whether this was always the case or not I don't know. I have no idea why she was fine with me having to spend a night in Frankfurt alone but this really upset me. She wanted me to come so badly that she didn't care about what I'd have to deal with to do this. Normally I am ok with traveling alone but it was too much. I got pissed off because the point of going was to make sure she wasn't alone and now she would be alone anyway. I wanted to cancel. I wanted out.

Too late. The tickets had gone from "reserved" to "issued" and I was thoroughly upset; tears, stomach ache, the works.

Dad checked everything online to be sure it was ok. It turned out that they had me on the flights but not Mom. Another series of phone calls ensued and by midnight it was finally resolved. Mom and I were on the same flights, both staying overnight in Frankfurt on the return leg.

I didn't want to do this. That long of a flight so spend only a week is nothing short of insane. She wanted it though. She needed it. She needed me to go with her and by 9am the morning of July 9th, I was on a flight.

Three Days

2010-08-06T18:09:00.000-07:00

On July 6, 2010 I went back to work after the 3 day weekend expecting to give notice to the job. However, the contract supervisor took the day off for a longer weekend and I had to wait until the next day. Technically that would mean giving a week and a half notice instead of a two week but what can you do? I was ready.

In the afternoon I received an email from Mom that said, "I got us tickets to Israel. Don't say no we are going."

I ignored this email thinking that surely she was kidding.

Then there were a series of text messages:

"Tell them it's an emergency."

"Say yes!"

"We are going to Israel! I am so happy!"

Either she had completely lost her mind or she really was under the impression that I was going to Israel with her, or both.

Finally I responded to the email saying that we will talk about it when I got home.

When I arrived I learned that she called United mileage and they were able to place us in two spots to go to Israel for free.

I explained to Mom that I had a plan and that this really wasn't in it. Would she be mad at me forever if I just didn't go ?

She cooly said that it was fine but she was sure that if my friends wanted to go to Hawaii I would go with them.

When would we be leaving?

Friday.

Friday, in three days.

Of Parties and Plans

2010-08-05T09:49:00.000-07:00

So we had an unexpected party on July 4 that lasted until 2am. There were plenty of guests and of course Mom ran around like a maniac. Since it was a three day weekend for me I intended to get chores done on Sunday so that I could enjoy Monday to myself. I told Mom that I did not intend to partake of this party and that I had things to do. She said, "I understand," in that sad defeated voice and then came inside every twenty minutes to tell me that people were asking for me. Then she said people were going to toast to Dad and I needed to be there. Then she said that my uncle James had arrived and I should really go see him. Great. That was the last thing I needed.

So I was stuck there and Dad felt that he was stuck too. He didn't want to spend the evening grilling and as far as I could tell he didn't want to spend the evening with his brother. I managed to have a decent evening and ate fruit to make up for the indulgence day before. I figured that I would spend time with myself on the 5th and focus on change and positivity then. That means that I cannot spend one minute inside the house, so I shopped, ran errands, and got together with a friend. Thank goodness for friends. Usually on Sundays I spend time journaling in a cafe but since it was cut off the day before I did that on the 5th.

Plans:

give notice for job tomorrow (7/6/10)

put together picture book from Grandma's birthday

go over all school related mail

see career counselor

MAKE DECISIONS

work on resume

look for apartments

Week menu:

make sweet potato burritos, key lime pie, pasta with scallops, turkey sandwiches, salad

When I got home that evening Mom jubilantly declared that she was hired for a job. They called her that day and offered her a job as a front end manager of a gourmet grocery store in Lake Forest, IL. Her start date would be July 19. I was excited for her since this will be her first job in a decade, but I don't necessarily think that a grocery store is the right environment. I don't see how she will stand all day and lift boxes and do things that her body might not want to do full time anymore. Mom has been suffering from very severe carpal tunnel syndrome and waited too long to do anything about it. She needs surgery but is determined to do the job anyway.

"I'm happy for you. I really think you should keep looking just in case though."

"Why are you always so...? Uh! I'm happy. Be happy for me."

"I just said I am happy for you, I'm just worried that 40 hours is too much."

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't even notice half the work I do around here. I'm stronger than you think."

"Yeah but that bakery didn't work out last year because you had to lift stuff remember? What if this is physically difficult? I'm just saying you have to do what's right for your body now."

"I need a job. This is a job. We have a situation. I'm not going to complain."

"Ok well I understand. I'm glad to see you so happy."

"I am happy. I'm thrilled. And since I have a week off, I'm going to take off to Israel!"

"What?"

"Yeah. Why not? We have two free international tickets from United through mileage so I'm going to see if I can go next week! Want to go?"

"To Israel? Come on."

"I need a vacation. I want to see my friends. You should come with me."

"Oh mom. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"If I can get us tickets, we're going."

"Sure, sure. Whatever."

Again, sarcasm is not best to use when dealing with my mother.

Chapter 2: It's Never Enough

2010-08-04T22:06:00.000-07:00

On July 4, 2010 my dad marched in the Skokie Parade carrying a flag for the local chapter of Veterans of Foreign Wars.

This was a proud day for him and while we were all tired from the day before we had to be sure to get there. He called a couple times to let us know when we should make our way over but of course we left at the last minute and almost missed him! I didn't really want to go and my mom spent the entire morning in the garden. I thought she knew what time to leave but when I went out to get her she was totally unprepared. Magically we made it. I wasn't expecting to go to the VFW offices afterwards but Dad wanted us to meet the gang.

For the most part the men are considerably older than Dad. They were in World War II and now talk about their ailments endlessly. Dad and a guy in his seventies are considered the "kids" there. The older members are always talking about how they need to get more young guys in like Dad. They actually borrowed some local active service members to carry the flags too because the old guys couldn't do it in the heat.

I went to the VFW with Dad once before. They had a dinner party that was going to announce Dad as their new member and Mom didn't want to go. She thought it was ridiculous for him to spend time with these old guys, but may have changed her mind since the parade. So I ended up as Dad's date to the party. I knew the crowd at VFW was older so I was pretty sure they were going to be decked out, but Dad said, no no. It's casual I'm sure. Nope! We were definitely the only ones there in casual clothing, (me in jeans!) while these old timers wore suits and evening dresses. Shit. I totally stuck out.

Wow can these folks dance! A man played the keyboard and the old couples got up to the floor to shake a leg. Some couples danced to every single song. I admit to getting teary when watching them dance to "Young At Heart."

There was one lady there that must have been in her 90s but she slowly danced with as many men as possible. Old flirt! I actually saw her sit on some "younger" guy's lap! I was worried she was going to come over and steal my dad.

During a break one of the men at our table came up to do announcements and then introduced Dad as the newest and youngest member. He mentioned that Dad brought his lovely wife, Aviva. Dad was completely humiliated worried that these guys thought he was a dirty old man, but in truth it was pretty obvious that I was the daughter. The guy making announcements just gets confused sometimes.

At the table we talked about how they want younger members to join. They have a huge space that can be rented for parties and they have a huge surplus of money that they'd like to keep in the community. For example, last year they donated enough money to extend the children's wing at a hospital. If they don't get more members headquarters will close their branch and the money will go to the national VFW fund. They said that they tried everything to get younger members in; yellow pages, mailings, etc. I asked them if they had a website for the local branch but they looked very confused. They asked Dad if it was legal for them to have a website and wanted to know how much it costs. Dad said he would help them out with this and also suggested having a booth at one of the many summer fairs in the area. They looked astonished. It was cute.

The guys said that they rented the space out for some children's birthday parties and baby showers but the caretaker protested. The smell of the diapers was too much for him and that put a stop to it.

I think it gives Dad something to look forward to during this time of unemployment. He gets to help out interesting people that weren't in his life before, and it's got to be a boost being called the kid of the group especially the day after his 60th birthday.

So on July 4th we hung out at the VFW for the afternoon but had to hurry home as Mom planned a surprise party for Dad. I asked her if she was nuts because I felt we did enough yesterday but she said that was my present and she wanted to give Dad a party. A party in which he will be doing all the grilling and she will invite all her Russian friends. We needed to get to the store and buy meat and do everything in access as usual.

"But Mom, we ate an entire animal each yesterday! Are you sure you want to do this? I feel exhausted."

"It's Dad's birthday and now it's the 4th. We are having a party and you are going."

It's never enough....

The Birthday

2010-08-03T11:36:00.001-07:00

On July 3, 2010 my dad turned 60 years old. He didn't want anything. My hope was to send him and Mom to Washington D.C. so that he could finally see the capital, (a long time dream) and be in town for the fireworks on the 4th. I could afford some of this journey but not all so I asked him what he would like to do. He decided to see Chicago instead. I suggested an architecture tour and then he said he hadn't been to the aquarium since he was dating my mom.

Itinerary for Dad's b-day:

1) Chicago River boat tour run by the Architecture Foundation

2) Shedd Aquarium

3) Fogo de Chao dinner

If you don't know of Fogo de Chao it's a Brazilian steakhouse where they serve all the meat you can eat and they carve it right at your table. My parents always wanted to go there but it's pricey so I figured for this occasion I really must take them. Dad said it was the best restaurant he had ever been to. The salad bar alone was amazing and the sangria was perfect. The highlight for me was a papaya cream dessert. The waiter said that papaya has a natural enzyme in it to help aide digestion. It was outstanding but the entire meal was extraordinarily rich. I didn't feel great the next day and my dad has since tried to be a vegetarian. Go figure.

I wasn't thinking about the amount of tourists in Chicago for the holiday weekend so everything took much longer than expected. We all got a horrific sunburn and were completely spent by 8pm. Still, it was a tremendous success and I am fortunate to have been able to give Dad such a nice day. There were no arguments or bickering and it was the first good family day in a long time.My mom's 60th birthday is also coming up this year and I have no idea what to do for her. The only thing she ever says that she wants is to go visit friends in Israel. That is the only thing in the world that she wants for her birthday.....

More Compromises

2010-08-02T05:48:00.000-07:00

Since the revelation of not hating being in front of the computer all day, things started to change little by little. I felt more positive about moving on with my life. The intention was to be in Chicago for a couple months, then a couple more, and then I wanted to stay for my grandma's birthday and my dad's birthday. Dad's birthday being right around the corner meant that I was nearly free to live my life.

Oddly enough I grew too comfortable here. Despite the aggravations, my bed here is soooo comfortable. My bathroom is perfect and all mine. The walls aren't drafty and there isn't a bug infestation. Every kitchen appliance is here and is in perfect condition. I have all the comforts of home because, it's home. And I fell into a routine that is extraordinarily hard to give it up even when the need to escape is there.

It's possible that I am bad at adulthood. I was doing ok there for a while reminding myself that starting over is hard, but then I regressed. I need help to move forward.

My mother thinks that this help should be in the form of a man. One which can take the role of "professional" that I so desire so that I can just buy nice things instead. After several disgusting conversations/arguments with her she said that she was going to find me one. I yelled out, "Fine!!!" which was unfortunately taken as an honest answer.

A month ago my mother was getting her nails done at the salon and sat next to an Israeli woman speaking in Hebrew on her cell phone. When she finished the call my mom befriended her. The woman asked all about the family and when I was found out to be an unmarried 30 something she immediately gave my mom the number of a man she knows. I don't know how many people this happens to but my mother actually called this guy and interviewed him to find out if he was good enough for me. Without ever meeting him, she passed on his number to me insisting that I call.

I won't be badgered into this. I asked Mom what is wrong with her, but she said that I had agreed to be set up. I asked her how she could possibly take a rage filled answer seriously but she just shoved the guy's phone number at me. Then she put a post it on my door. Then she asked me every single day for a week if I called the guy. My response was to walk away. This is horrific to come home to, especially when things have changed at work and you need to focus on positivity.

And then after a particularly awful day at work, I was sitting in the kitchen with Dad discussing our plans for his birthday when she came in talking on her cell phone. Out of nowhere she handed me the phone and left the room. She told the guy when I would be home and to call her so she could get me to answer.

The guy was nice enough. I told him that I was supremely uncomfortable with this and that she has ideas in her head that I simply do not understand. Then I found out he talked to her extensively and learned things about my dating history. (thanks Mom!) That's when I knew for sure that there is something wrong with this guy. What is he doing talking to some one's crazy mother without even seeing these people in real life? He also was not a business owner or Kellogg student like Mom thought she would find me, but the guy that gets you in your car when you locked the keys inside.

He requested to take me out sometime just to meet even though I said I wasn't available. He seemed not to care or think it was a big deal to meet up at a cafe and have a chat and didn't easily drop it. He suggested a kosher place in Roger's Park that has excellent food. A kosher place?

"Do you keep kosher?"

"Yes, I am Orthodox. Didn't your mom tell you?"

"Oh wow. You know I'm not at all like that."

"I know your mother told me she didn't raise you like this. It's ok. I've dated a lot of women that are not observant. You can eat whatever you want but for me, it's kosher."

"Sure, well I always thought what kind of a god doesn't allow you to eat scallops? (he didn't laugh) So.... why would you want to go out with someone that isn't religious?"

"It's ok just to date. If it's long term then some changes would have to be made."

Aha. I ended the conversation slightly rattled and didn't speak to Mom about it again. She asked over and over if I was going to meet him but I never responded.

"You should meeeet him. You never know."

"Aren't you going to meet him?

"I would have at least had a coffee with the guy."

"It's an opportunity. Just meeet him!!!"

Dad's birthday couldn't come soon enough.

The July Story

2010-08-01T12:23:00.000-07:00

I didn't write anything about July because the month deserves a novel onto itself. It will be my attempt here to write nearly everyday of August to re-cap crazy July.

CHAPTER 1

Compromises

There is an Arrested Development episode where Michael is making compromises all over the place. I felt that this was me for a time.

In June I made a plan to quit my job and finish working by Friday, July 2. Exciting plans were taking shape and I needed time to myself. Two things thwarted the plan: my boss went on vacation and needed me in there while he was gone, and my dad turned 60 on July 3 so I needed the money anyway. I postponed quitting and figured on July 9, thinking that would be enough.

I mentioned my intent to leave to my boss and found out his vacation was longer than originally planned. He was going to be back in town on the 12th and asked me to wait to give official notice, meaning I would have to push the date again. He gave me a higher access than my counterpart and requested I do some necessary things in his absence. I grudgingly agreed and figured on leaving July 16.

Politically it's never a nice thing to give the new girl more access and duties than the person who has been running things there for years. I discreetly worked on these projects but she made it clear that it was his job and none of my business to do. What could I do?

Recently I had an interesting realization at this job. I always HATED office work with a passion. I felt it was stupid work and beneath me to copy, paste, data enter, file, fax, answer calls, and assist absent minded people that make triple my income. While daydreaming I thought about the time spent doing this stupid work. Seven years. Nearly seven years of doing work I hate.

I needed to change my outlook. I recalled how much knowledge I gained on various jobs and the fact that I made more use of it at this office than any other. Shortly after working here I became the go-to person for presentations and general office maintenance questions. With the supervisor trusting me more than my colleagues I was privy to more interviews and investigations. Once I got busier on the job and gained information my day went by faster. I didn't hate it so much. All this time I kept thinking that I needed something new or completely different. I thought I needed to work in a restaurant to be happy, or a physical therapy center, a museum, a law firm, a dance studio, television studio, etc. Maybe becoming great at something you dislike can change the way you feel about it.

That being said, this still wasn't the right job or the right environment for me but I learned a lot. I thought I was the biggest idiot in the world about computers. Needing to ask for help with seemingly simple computer tasks was always the most embarrassing problem for me. Now I'm thinking that I'm not such a dummy after all. Plenty of people came to me for help. Maybe I just need to get even better at the use of technology and then I will find myself in an environment that doesn't suck. It's possible that this was what held me back all these years.

Shortly after my boss left for vacation I was demoted to a different section because that is the way offices work. Why keep things running smoothly? I had to do both positions for a couple days to complete the tasks. My new supervisor complained about my finishing projects for someone else and adamantly stated that I will not be attending further training with that department. Then the receptionist went on vacation and they forgot to cover her. I was placed there and nearly lost it.

Just two more paychecks. I have a birthday to pay for.

to be continued...