Ask And

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.