Monthly Archives: December 2007

Exit 2007

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I hope you all have a wonderful new year.

I for one am happy to close the door on 2007. I bound happily and eagerly over the threshold into 2008. Let’s hope that what waits for us on the other side is full of happiness, peace, enlightenment, creativity, good health, and great luck.

See you there.

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not knowing

I still don’t know what to do. It’s totally lame. If I could just stick my head in the sand and wait life and my desires out, I would. There’s a fork in the road, and I can’t figure out which road to take. I can’t figure out how to prioritize. I am fighting against lifelong patterns and impulses. This whole thing is making me so incredibly unhappy–either that, or my unhappiness is causing this tumult. It is TOTALLY LAME. Why can’t all the pieces just fall into place?

In the interim, I’m still obsessively dreaming about alternative lives. Escape!

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Let your wishes rain down

I just found out you can get a message printed on a piece of the confetti in Times Square–and registered my wish. The message-carrying confetti pieces will be mixed with the other confetti.

This year, when I watch the confetti dropped on Times Square on New Year’s Eve, I’ll have the image of wishes floating around everywhere–why not add to that gorgeous flurry?

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holiday mail

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It’s the holiday season, a time when I run to the mailbox knowing there’s a slightly higher chance of receiving a personal greeting amidst the numerous bills. I love holiday cards–regardless of whether or not there’s a personal note or a typewritten “year in summary” note. (This year, as I read the “year in summary” letters and the “How did your year go?” I winced–there are things that happened this year that I could never write in a “cheery” year end summary, no matter how I spin them).

It is a good time to remember and be remembered, to reach out and connect. Many of these relationships hang on this once-a-year postal exchange. Without the holiday cards, I fear we would entirely disconnect and be sent out into the ether.

In addition to the holiday cards are rejection letters and cards returned to sender. It’s a mixed array of mail, a pile that sends me into spikes and troughs each day. At no other time of the year does postal mail become such an emotional event, day to day.

I think it’s time to shake the fog of holiday vacation from my head and start writing again. It’s the only cure.

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Road Trip

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I am on a road trip.

Will be back soon.

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into night

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Winter solstice–the shortest day, and longest night of the year. After tonight, daylight begins its march back into our lives, minute by minute.

It is so quiet.

Except for the sound of my keyboard.

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a toast

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Thank goodness for friends. They dragged me out to celebrate my MFA graduation, in the wake of my blase finale. None of them are writers, but they all know what it means to reach a goal, and then to move on to new ones.

We shared a toast, and then set to business, which in our crowd means ordering good food and chowing down.

Onward.

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return to sender

return to sender

Last week, I sent a holiday card to an estranged cousin. I’d hoped he would receive it, knowing I wish him well. And maybe open a dialogue of sorts, maybe reconnect me to his sister.

A story bloomed in my head from all the possibility.

Yesterday, I got the card back. The envelope was stamped, “Not deliverable as addressed–Return to sender.”

This is not the first time I have sent him written correspondence, even though I’ve never heard a response. Yet this is the first time I’ve had a letter returned.

What happened to the other letters? Did he even receive them? Or did a complete stranger receive them, open them up and read them, not having the heart to tell me they’d never reached their destination? Did he move?

Though I rarely dare to do so, I looked up the phone number on file for him, and dialed.  The phone number is disconnected.

We are now completely estranged again.

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Survivor Meme

I was looking through “Survivor’s” website tonight (yes, I know how desperate and lonely that sounds), and came across the Survivor profiles. Each of the Survivor contestants, I guess, have to fill out a questionnaire, and they get asked the same questions each year. I am guessing these favorites will be used to taunt or bribe them throughout the game (ie., “I’ll give you peanut butter if you step down from that post and forfeit a chance at immunity…”).  In my case, I guess, you just have to wave a candy bar of any sort in front of me and I’d get off the post…

I found myself comparing their answers to what mine might have been.

So–why not? I figure I’d fill it out myself…

FAVORITES….

  • Colors: Blue (especially navy blue), Green
  • Scents: Lavender, tuberose, the smell of bread baking
  • Flowers: Lavender, tuberose, tulips, peonies
  • Board Games: Risk
  • Video/Computer Games: the Sims! So much I can’t play it anymore.  It almost ruined my life, I was sooo addicted to it.  Now it’s just brickbreaker on my crackberry.
  • Sports to play: um. NO sports.
  • Sports teams: um. NO sports teams either.
  • Outdoor activities: backpacking
  • TV shows: “Grey’s Anatomy,” “House,” “Top Gear”
  • Movies: “About a Boy,” “Love Actually”  Ugh. I can’t remember anymore.  I’m not that committed to my movie favorites.
  • Music: Sigur Ros, The Killers, The Postal Service
  • Magazines: The New Yorker, Gourmet
  • Books/Authors: Haruki Murakami, Jeffrey Eugenides, Etgar Keret, Junot Diaz, The Great Gatsby by F.Scott Fitzgerald
  • Cereals: Honey Bunches of Oats
  • Fruit: watermelon
  • Chips/snacks: doritos
  • Cookies: yes
  • Candy bars: yes
  • Alcoholic drinks: not a big drinker. But when I do drink, I drink cosmos, gin and tonics, lemon drops
  • Non-alcoholic drinks: Calpico, apple juice, mango and “plain” lassi

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genuine feelings

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No one told me that graduating from my MFA program would feel like postpartum depression.  Or just, depression.

I am feeling very very lost these days. And for someone who usually is (or feels) as surefooted as I am, this sensation of uncertainty is alarming. The bottom, in a way, has fallen out of my world.

In the loss of flooring, I have an acute sense of what else supports me. What and who give me strength, happiness, etc. Inside, I’m clamoring for these things. It sums up to a lot, and a little.

There have been points this week where I felt very distraught and alone (I was literally alone, as the hubby was on a long business trip overseas). Who could I call? I thumbed through my phonebook, and found myself veto’ing each person. (Nope–not him. Nope–she would freak out if I called like this. Nope–she wouldn’t hear it. Nope–she’s NEVER heard me cry, she’d freak out too. Nope–we don’t have that kind of relationship….)

Very few of my friends have seen me vulnerable, and so they don’t know what to do or say and in sum, they freak out. And in turn, I’m not good at being vulnerable at all. It seems I need practice at laying prostrate, belly up, and someone needs to erase my memories of people who have stepped on me while I have done that.

My world is very gray too. The black and white have now merged. Again, to a result of feeling lost. Things have lost their clarity.

It’s driving me nuts, plunging me into a great sense of helplessness. Guess what. I hate feeling helpless, too. And I hate bitching. So that results in me being very quiet. Which then makes me feel more alone.

I understand that the gray spaces, feeling lost–can be an opportunity. Someone once explained that it could be an opportunity, and that it is a space to explore and embrace. The rules are gone, there are no boundaries, and new things, experiences, and ideas are in the mist. It’s hard for me to see it that way.

I can tell things are about to change, and that I am not in control. I am very afraid and worried, spending most of my time rationalizing as much as I can or plunging myself into the fictional world of my writing. I wish I weren’t so afraid and worried (what am I going to do with what I learned?  What next?), I wish I could enjoy this ride a little more.

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Another Life

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I have to confess–I’ve been fantasizing about another life. I’ve been furtively perusing rental properties in New York and London, and thinking of having a child. I’ve been imagining stepping out of a flat, greeting a doorman, and hitting the sidewalk of a bustling metropolis, walking to dinner each night (wearing a cute outfit and cuter shoes) or carrying groceries home, taking taxi cabs or the subway (in the London case “the tube”) all around town. I’ll be slimmer from all the walking! The sound of the city would always be outside my window! If I get bored, I could just go for walks around town!

And likewise, in a weird turn of events, I’ve been thinking (AGAIN! After I laid the baby beast to bed and muffled the biological clock!) of having a child. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a daughter or son (and I’ve debating between the two–AS IF I HAD A CHOICE)? To have an expanding family? Walk in a stroller around town? (Again–I would be slimmer from all the walking!)

Yes, I know those two things (relocating to a new town or country and living a hustle-bustle life and having a child) don’t necessarily go together, but you see, that’s the point. I’ve been looking for alternatives to my own life and my own setting.

My life as it is, is very very very good by most people’s standards. I live in a beautiful neighborhood, in a city that balances urban and surburban with a colorful flair. The weather is fantastic. I love my place. I don’t have a child–I get to sleep in on the weekends and run my own schedule. There is lots of love in our household. And my friends with children? Their babies are so darling, but after a few hours with the sweet children, I’m exhausted. I have no idea how my friends can keep going 24/7. Not to mention that I am challenged when it comes to my fertility. So I mystify even myself as to why I’m doing this, why I’m casting about for another setting and another trajectory.

I’m going to try to focus on this life and appreciating it more, even though at times I am inexplicably unsatisfied. I feel guilty in saying it, but sometimes I feel my own life is not enough. Am I so greedy as to want more? Yes. It’s awful. I want it all! But I know I can’t have it all.

So–maybe I’ll get my characters pregnant, maybe allow them to visit London or New York.

And I–I’ll walk out my door and breathe the air deeply. Force myself to smile, until the smile becomes genuine.

I’m going to check out new restaurants, see my city as new again.

I can’t fall into the trap doors I set up every few years for myself. Now is the time to be even better to myself, and keep myself on the healthy path, keep myself from trashing and poo-poo’ing what I have. Most of all, I want to be happy.

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Filed under Life

bleah

i feel like i’m falling apart this week.  every once in awhile i have to shut my eyes and take a deep breath.  “keep it together.”  (yes like in bowfinger).

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