Since last Thursday, I had been getting progressively grumpier, and for no known reason I could think of.
I was relieved to have withdrawn my application from a gorgeous studio in Jersey, because even though I was having great fantasies of luxuriating beneath my huge windows on my red sofa while my cat, Shade, played happily in the large open space in what was once the headquarters for the Black Panthers (true fact), the commute was really going to be a bitch, and there was something not-quite-trustworthy about the landlords, I felt.
Turns out, they took a partial deposit that they shouldn't have, and cashed the check when I withdrew my application. I've already threatened an Attorney General complaint if I don't receive my money back 'by Wednesday', and the complaint is all filled out and ready to go, so I really feel it's taken care of, one way or the other, so I don't think that's the source of my crankiness.
I love snow, and was thrilled with the pile we got dumped on us. I enjoyed long walks in the winter wonderland of Central Park over the weekend, the company of friends and the warmth of my apartment, now that the heat's back on.
I have also become grateful for my living situation, finally, because it's ridiculously cheap, one of the quietest places, if not THE quietest, place I've ever lived, the location is choice and as far as roommates go, I can live with the dynamics I've got. Plus, last night Shade had a mouse for dinner. I was very worried for his mental state, being locked in my room for most of the day and all.
I was just about to sit down to my free range, humanely raised, organically fed chicken when I saw Shade chewing on something. I thought it was a piece of the mat that he 's been tearing up trying to open the door when I'm gone. Something was hanging out of his mouth, string like. I said 'WHAT? did you get into' and pulled on what turned to be the tail of a pretty thoroughly chewed up field mouse. Gag. That one will stay with me for sense memory. Forever.
Anyway, I honestly can't figure out what it was that was making me want to act like a three year old and stomp my feet and pump my fists while I screamed at decibels opera divas only dream of. I even contemplated that it was a lack of vitamin K, because I had run out of my spirulina supplement. However, starting last night, after making snarky comments at Joan Rivers (WHAT?! did she do to her face? Alien!) on her snide little, judgmental show Fashion Police, the density in my sternum seems to be lifting.
If you have a cat, you know the feeling of having them arise from your chest, or stomach and the breath of the feeling of weightlessness that follows. That is the feeling I have this morning.
As well, I seem to be reconnected to my creative spirit in a way I've been waiting for and leaning towards. There are pieces of music that I've had on the back burner, some of them since I was a teenager, to choreograph.
For my train ride this morning, I chose an attitude of intentional solitude - I'll mind my business and you can mind yours. When you're an empath, it is very challenging to not feel the edges of the emotional morass that is the air on a subway car. Sometimes directing one's focus to music is helpful. So, I put on Suzanne Ciani's Rain, a lovely piano piece that sounds much like it's name in a playful and soothing composition. This is also on of my back burner pieces.
As I came up to the platform on my transfer to the downtown 1 Train, I started stepping into the choreography I have started on this composition. It's simple notation, nothing flamboyant. The thrill of this piece will be in the juxtaposition of movement, not in any great acrobatics.
I was hit with the energy of creativity and potential, and ideas were exploding in my head and making my heart sing.
I noticed a woman, peripherally, sitting on the nearby bench. She was sending me a negative, judgmental vibe, a vibe I'm all too familiar with in power play situations; auditions, interviews. I was able to deflect it and reject it, like brushing away a fly. This was an epiphany. The veil was lifted, I was able to envision a freedom of expression in audition and creation situations that I have been working towards. These moments never come about the way you expect them to.
And now, the choreography is soaring. I'm absolutely giggling with delight at what I'm coming up with, including a motivation to book a studio and get some dancers in there STAT!
Stepping off of the train I am wondering what has changed in the stratosphere, atmosphere, biosphere, cosmos to open this energy pathway. "Somebody flushed the line", I think.
It is also possible that this is some of the continuing effect of a process I submitted myself to a year ago. It is something called a 'Light Activation'. (Yoko at this studio in Chelsea did mine Life Activation It is a process done by an energy worker with techniques based on the wisdom of Solomon. There were attitudes and beliefs woven into the fabric of my atoms that have changed and evaporated, been revealed and released, since I participated in this process. The intention of a light activation is to make room for more light in your DNA. I didn't really think too much about the process after I underwent it. I only know the enlightenment I'm experiencing feels like a big deal, and I don't really have anything else to attribute these kind of attitude changes to.
Other than: someone flushed the line...
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
That annoying propensity to be *sigh* Human
My Bestie, Danyelly, is coming into town tonight for a friend's birthday and I'm meeting them after work for karaoke (pronounced Kail-A-Oh-kay) so I needed to get a little fancy today. Also, it's around twenty-degrees-fahrenheit degrees today, and we have two gaping holes in our apartment awaiting attention. I recently picked up a little Holmes space heater that works tremendously well.
The space heater was working it's little blower off, warming my room nicely, and I plugged in my hair dryer to the surge protector, thinking "I probably shouldn't plug both of these in." Apparently, I should have drunk more of my morning coffee before attempting to work with electrical appliances, because that thought got stuck in pre-caffeine brain matter. Of course, part of my adventurous self was wondering what would happen, since I've been really careful about unplugging the 12.5 amp heater so as not to blow a fuse. Curiosity won, I turned the dryer on and everything shut. Off. completely.
I tried to mess with the fuses, to no avail, and again there was a little niggling voice whispering "It's not the fuses," that was ignored. There are only three fuses in our fuse box. One of them was obviously not for my room since it shut off the kitchen when I removed it, one didn't do anything new when I changed it, and the other we had no spare for.
I was going to leave it and just buy a 20 fuse at some point during the day so I could try the one we didn't have a replacement for, but when I went to get water out of the pitcher in the fridge, the fridge was dark. One can't leave a refrigerator without power, even in 20 degree weather with two gaping holes in the ceiling. The apartment is chilly, but I don't think it's down to forty degrees. Yet. Plus, the stuff in the freezer would never survive.
Did you know there's a little black reset button on the end of your surge protector???? Neither did I!! So who can blame me?!, really, for going and pounding on the super's door to help me?
Victor, our super, and I have a really good relationship. He misguidedly wanted me to be his girlfriend, and despite a small language barrier, I was tempted. A little bit. He's also twenty years younger than me, which he swears is not a deterrent, but I think he may be a little impulsive in that area.
Anyway. I wake Victor up, and he says he'll help me in a minute. I'm late leaving for work at this point and a bit panicked. Lesson number one: Never Panic. It never turns out well.
I waited about three minutes. I went back and knocked, rapidly and a lot, on Victor's door again. I'm like, "C'mon! I'm late for work!" I'm getting pushy; trying not to; failing. He protests that he must get dressed and I tell him to just throw on a t-shirt. He finally appears out of his apartment and goes in search of the fuse.
He comes in and checks the fuses, changes a couple, puts them back. He comes in my room and does something to the surge protector and everything starts humming. "I'm gonna kill you" he says.
"I did that!" I cry in self-defense. "I turned it on and off multiple times!"
"You know about the black button?" he says.
I bend down and look at the top of the surge protector and see that there is a black reset button. Oy.
"I'm sorry!" I hold my face in embarrassment. "I'm so so sorry! I'm Sorry Victor!" I am effusively apologetic. He smile/smirks at me. "It's ok" he says. "You're late for work," he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.
"I am. SUPER late."
I'm gonna have to bake something for Victor.
Luckily, no one was at work when I arrived fifteen minutes late, even though the train was just pulling out of the station when I arrived, which has been happening every. single. day. for about two weeks. It doesn't matter what time I leave the house. I can hear it when I'm coming down the stairs into the station; pulling in, Mocking me. I can't run for it because I have peroneal neuropathy which is triggered when I run down stairs. It is another lesson in not being attached to events you can't control because my connecting train always arrives just as I am stepping on to the platform. Here is a great parable about these kinds of things: Morning Meditation
In the past I would have spent the remainder of the day beating myself up and planning what to do to make it up to Victor. Age and disappointment have jaded me, for the better, I think, because now I'm just really happy everything's working, that I know now how to fix any power surge outages, and no one was here when I came in.
The lesson of stay calm and don't get dramatic is emphasized and maybe learned. Maybe.
I am a little bit fancy and ready for karaoke (Kail-a-oh-kay) and will be able to be warm when I get home tonight. (I used the socket in the kitchen to blow dry my hair). Stay calm and Improvise.
Fuses, blow dryer, space heater, fancy, lessons, lesson, meditation, chilly, fahrenheit, freezer, refrigerator, sure protector, panic
Fuses, blow dryer, space heater, fancy, lessons, lesson, meditation, chilly, fahrenheit, freezer, refrigerator, sure protector, panicWednesday, January 9, 2013
BubbleFlu Symphony
Who has the flu?! "I do! I do!"
Just like that gum commercial in the 70's; "Who wants gum?" "I do! I do!" Isn't this fun?
I'm improvising a humidifier at work. I work in the driest office in the city. I'm pretty sure that, not only is there no moisture in the air but, there is a sucking effect as the molecules of water are drawn out of my skin, like in those nature show time-lapse sequences where you watch a desert oasis dry up and crack as the dirt pulls away from itself to reveal a craggy, thirsty landscape. That's my face right now.
This improvised humidifier consists of an electric teapot, placed under my desk and let to boil until the water is gone. It is LOUD. and noisy. And loud and noisy and bubbly. I'm sure it is annoying to the attorneys outside of whose offices I sit. It annoys me, and it's causing me stress that it might be annoying them. But it is too dry for me to shut it off. And the steam feels sooo gooood.
Do they know that I have it bubbling because I'm sick? Can they possibly know the truth of my illness, that I am exhausted all the time. Can they see that one day, when I expire from exhaustion, they will shake their heads sadly at the tragedy, at the sacrifices I made to continue to be a stalwart employee and be at my desk, rain or shine, snow or wind, in sickness and in health? Will they admire my commitment and work ethic and wipe away a tear as they recall my selflessness and purity of heart?
Or will they just be like, "Thank god we don't have to hear that stupid bubbling pot! Yeesh!"
Bubble burble bubble bubble toil and trouble cauldron bubble burble bubble bubble.
Wait.
Stillness.
Blurp.
Blurp.
Bubbleblurblebubblebrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Bubble.
I'm hungry now. When I have a cold I get really, ravenously hungry. Rawr. That's my stomach. Burble. Rawr. I think I'm going to write the flu symphony.
Rawr. Burble brrrrrr bubb Rawr. Burble. Brrrrrrr. Bubb.
Everybody. Sing with me now!
Just like that gum commercial in the 70's; "Who wants gum?" "I do! I do!" Isn't this fun?
I'm improvising a humidifier at work. I work in the driest office in the city. I'm pretty sure that, not only is there no moisture in the air but, there is a sucking effect as the molecules of water are drawn out of my skin, like in those nature show time-lapse sequences where you watch a desert oasis dry up and crack as the dirt pulls away from itself to reveal a craggy, thirsty landscape. That's my face right now.
This improvised humidifier consists of an electric teapot, placed under my desk and let to boil until the water is gone. It is LOUD. and noisy. And loud and noisy and bubbly. I'm sure it is annoying to the attorneys outside of whose offices I sit. It annoys me, and it's causing me stress that it might be annoying them. But it is too dry for me to shut it off. And the steam feels sooo gooood.
Do they know that I have it bubbling because I'm sick? Can they possibly know the truth of my illness, that I am exhausted all the time. Can they see that one day, when I expire from exhaustion, they will shake their heads sadly at the tragedy, at the sacrifices I made to continue to be a stalwart employee and be at my desk, rain or shine, snow or wind, in sickness and in health? Will they admire my commitment and work ethic and wipe away a tear as they recall my selflessness and purity of heart?
Or will they just be like, "Thank god we don't have to hear that stupid bubbling pot! Yeesh!"
Bubble burble bubble bubble toil and trouble cauldron bubble burble bubble bubble.
Wait.
Stillness.
Blurp.
Blurp.
Bubbleblurblebubblebrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Bubble.
I'm hungry now. When I have a cold I get really, ravenously hungry. Rawr. That's my stomach. Burble. Rawr. I think I'm going to write the flu symphony.
Rawr. Burble brrrrrr bubb Rawr. Burble. Brrrrrrr. Bubb.
Everybody. Sing with me now!
Friday, December 14, 2012
The True Purpose of Your Smart Phone
AYaYaYaY It has been a looong time. I'm forcing myself to put digits to keys and spew forth.
Biggest things first; it is time for a Face Book revolution. We need to change what we choose to post on Face Book. This is my cry to the world to accept the challenge of Rob Brezny's Pronoia and focus on the positive. I know that there are still a lot of mean (in the common sense of the word), base, pedantic, pedestrian yet frustrating goings on in the toilet seat of our 'government' and that we are compelled to call our kin to arms "Viva Le Revolucion"!
However, I purport that the old battle of fighting against the entrenched, stale, bacteria stained, moldy politicians and those they've brainwashed is a waste of good creative, fun-loving energy.
I urge us to, instead, wage a war of positivity. Post acts of human kindness and brave sharing. Share delighted posts that support expressions of original creativity and realized potential.
Eschew individual causes for equal treatment and demand that all living things be afforded the respect inherent in the mere fact of our incarnation.
GO BIG with your generosity and optimism.
I was small yesterday. A grumpiness overtook me and I reacted badly to miniscule-mindedness on the train. Although humorous in the later telling of it, the tale itself was of an intellect used to cut as deep as possible, and one I am a little bit ashamed of. I am not proud of that use of my facilities (well, maybe a little bit...*snicker*).
I felt a need to redeem my soul, as the indulgence in baseness is as surely a soul sucker as working under a reptilian manager. So I found my higher purpose and proceeded to go out of my way to be forgiving and loving in each moment starting last night and continuing today. I love the way connecting to Christ-love inflates my cranium with a warm glow. I practiced non-reaction and willful loving and forgiveness on my squished seat on the subway; mostly, anyway.
As I made my way to the office this morning, I noticed a woman, in bright cerise pants, remaining stationary while the crowds milled past her. Clearly, this woman had a question about something. I stopped and asked her if she needed help. Turns out she was looking for the Ecuadorian Embassy "On third Avenue".
"Oh, you need an address, " I helpfully informed her.
She didn't have one, so I whipped out my Iphone and googled 'Ecuadorian Embassy'. I got the Consulate General, clicked on the 'call them' link and when the auto answer started talking in spanish, handed the phone over to my new friend. Within a minute, she had the address and was on her way. I felt very happy and she was delighted.
Sometimes, while lying in bed unwinding before shutting my eyes, I'll play the downloaded game of the moment on my phone. Part of me curses myself and the phone for our indulgence and laziness and for succumbing to cultural programming. Other times, I am delighted that such mindless entertainments are available to me. Now, though, I am delighted by my smartphone, because it turns out it has a real purpose.
Go forth and spread the true spirit of the season.
Peace
Biggest things first; it is time for a Face Book revolution. We need to change what we choose to post on Face Book. This is my cry to the world to accept the challenge of Rob Brezny's Pronoia and focus on the positive. I know that there are still a lot of mean (in the common sense of the word), base, pedantic, pedestrian yet frustrating goings on in the toilet seat of our 'government' and that we are compelled to call our kin to arms "Viva Le Revolucion"!
However, I purport that the old battle of fighting against the entrenched, stale, bacteria stained, moldy politicians and those they've brainwashed is a waste of good creative, fun-loving energy.
I urge us to, instead, wage a war of positivity. Post acts of human kindness and brave sharing. Share delighted posts that support expressions of original creativity and realized potential.
Eschew individual causes for equal treatment and demand that all living things be afforded the respect inherent in the mere fact of our incarnation.
GO BIG with your generosity and optimism.
I was small yesterday. A grumpiness overtook me and I reacted badly to miniscule-mindedness on the train. Although humorous in the later telling of it, the tale itself was of an intellect used to cut as deep as possible, and one I am a little bit ashamed of. I am not proud of that use of my facilities (well, maybe a little bit...*snicker*).
I felt a need to redeem my soul, as the indulgence in baseness is as surely a soul sucker as working under a reptilian manager. So I found my higher purpose and proceeded to go out of my way to be forgiving and loving in each moment starting last night and continuing today. I love the way connecting to Christ-love inflates my cranium with a warm glow. I practiced non-reaction and willful loving and forgiveness on my squished seat on the subway; mostly, anyway.
As I made my way to the office this morning, I noticed a woman, in bright cerise pants, remaining stationary while the crowds milled past her. Clearly, this woman had a question about something. I stopped and asked her if she needed help. Turns out she was looking for the Ecuadorian Embassy "On third Avenue".
"Oh, you need an address, " I helpfully informed her.
She didn't have one, so I whipped out my Iphone and googled 'Ecuadorian Embassy'. I got the Consulate General, clicked on the 'call them' link and when the auto answer started talking in spanish, handed the phone over to my new friend. Within a minute, she had the address and was on her way. I felt very happy and she was delighted.
Sometimes, while lying in bed unwinding before shutting my eyes, I'll play the downloaded game of the moment on my phone. Part of me curses myself and the phone for our indulgence and laziness and for succumbing to cultural programming. Other times, I am delighted that such mindless entertainments are available to me. Now, though, I am delighted by my smartphone, because it turns out it has a real purpose.
Go forth and spread the true spirit of the season.
Peace
Monday, October 22, 2012
Adventures On a Train
Saturday, in the Park....not really, on the train. But how many of you just started singing that song by the 70s band Chicago? Huh? Huh?
So, Saturday: early start to get to a rehearsal in far away Bay Ridge. There's a meal cart vendor around the corner in my 'hood that makes a good, cheap bacon, egg and cheese, but today I want to see if any of the bakeries I've noticed closer to the subway have any good, fresh baked treats.
Insert sound of game show 'WRONG' buzzer here. The bakeries all had saran wrapped, gross looking muffins. Yuch. So I try the cart vendor near the train entrance. Yuch, again. The roll was toasted, however, the egg was thin and he used FAKE BACON. Do I even need to talk about how wrong that is?!?!
Aaaandddd he charged me $4!! My regular near the corner only charges me $3.50 for the sandwich and the coffee. And New Vendor Guy even had a sign saying the $4 deal included a juice. So I took one. and not the Sunny D that the breakfast deal included. I took an apple juice, damnit. So There.
Anyway, so I get on the train and I sit in one of those seats that abut other seats, the ones where you're sitting with your back to someone else? I usually don't like those because sometimes people's hair touches yours and that creeps me out. There must have not been anyone in the behind-me seat when I sat down, otherwise I don't think I would have chosen that seat. So, I'm messing with the coffee New Vendor Guy gave me in a leaky cup that looks like it was maybe used, and I finally sit up and something bumps the back of my head. I feel behind my head, and all I feel is the steel vertical seat bar. So I return to whatever I'm messing with. Eventually I sit up again and I bump my head again. So I turn around to see what's up and this very black lady is glaring at me and I notice she had her hair wrapped up on the back of her head and it sticks out about a foot. So I say, "You have big hair!" in a very friendly, kind of joyous way. Ya know what she says? In a confrontational aggressive way? "And you can't sit still!"
"All I did was sit up straight in my seat"
"Well, don't sit up!"
"Excuse Me! You're telling me not to sit up in my own seat on the train?"
OK. Let me move to another seat.
"Oh, now you gonna move to another seat!?"
Uh, well, yah, is that rocket science?
So she continues yelling at me, and I just say "well you DO have big hair. It's not like an insult. You just do!" But she's stuck on my ants-in-the-pants label, so I finally start saying "we don't have to hate each other". I pretty quickly give that up though.
After a little bit this really skinny guy comes on and starts preachin Jesus. Oh, hell no. No, no, no, no, no. Big Hair Lady already has me turned on, plus I'm a little pissed off about New Vendor Guys Fake Bacon, so I can't help myself and I word vomit to him "I paid too much for my ticket on this train to listen to THIS. Do you want to pay for my ticket?!" Some passengers smile at me. "Right?!", they laugh. But he just keeps preachin his crap so i put on my headphones.
A lot of the train clears out after this point, but a new guy comes on handing out little slips of paper to everyone, not really asking if they want it, just giving it to them. He comes near me and I say "You don't want to give me one cause I'll Yell." No problem, he doesn't. I'm really curious about what's written on it, but not enough to ask for one. After he hands them out he goes back to the other end of the train and passes his hat. - - - - -
Really?
This is a new trick. This is a new one. I've never seen this before. Hand people your art work, or poem, unasked, unsolicited, almost forced - and then ask for money for it. I have to admire the pro-active attitude. Isn't that the American way? Isn't that how the American Dream is realized.
Ahem
On the train home from rehearsal, there is a homeless man walking the car, not even asking for anything. He doesn't have to, his appearance asks for him. Well I assume he's homeless. He's wearing tatters, he's unshaven, he's very thin, and he has no shoes. It's the last bit that slays me; his long thin bare feet that he is trying not to step on as he walks, obviously in pain. I always look at the footwear of panhandlers. If you have better kicks than me, I am not giving you coin. I empty out my change purse for this guy. I really want to take him to buy shoes, but I don't even know how to initiate that. And he's old. Someone's son, brother, uncle, maybe father? Grandfather? and uncared for. alone. I know there are those who refuse help, who choose to live on the streets. Shouldn't there be some way for them to be cared for? It's just not right to punish people for non-conformity. This is a complicated issue to some. To me it's simple. If you are not hurting anyone there should be a way for you to have the basic needs. Period.
I feel helpless. and empty. and incredibly sad. What circumstances brought him to this? He does not appear drugged or jonesing - just, plain destitute. I am embarrassed that we live in a society that has such callous disregard for the well being of it's members.
I would much rather be able to laugh about someone's creative way of panhandling as they try to promote their own creation than to be wondering why an old, sick man has no shoes.
And I'd love to end with an upbeat line about looking forward to next Saturday's train ride to Bay Ridge, and all the adventures it will provide. But I know I will see too many bodies sleeping on cardboard in the subway entrances.
So, Saturday: early start to get to a rehearsal in far away Bay Ridge. There's a meal cart vendor around the corner in my 'hood that makes a good, cheap bacon, egg and cheese, but today I want to see if any of the bakeries I've noticed closer to the subway have any good, fresh baked treats.
Insert sound of game show 'WRONG' buzzer here. The bakeries all had saran wrapped, gross looking muffins. Yuch. So I try the cart vendor near the train entrance. Yuch, again. The roll was toasted, however, the egg was thin and he used FAKE BACON. Do I even need to talk about how wrong that is?!?!
Aaaandddd he charged me $4!! My regular near the corner only charges me $3.50 for the sandwich and the coffee. And New Vendor Guy even had a sign saying the $4 deal included a juice. So I took one. and not the Sunny D that the breakfast deal included. I took an apple juice, damnit. So There.
Anyway, so I get on the train and I sit in one of those seats that abut other seats, the ones where you're sitting with your back to someone else? I usually don't like those because sometimes people's hair touches yours and that creeps me out. There must have not been anyone in the behind-me seat when I sat down, otherwise I don't think I would have chosen that seat. So, I'm messing with the coffee New Vendor Guy gave me in a leaky cup that looks like it was maybe used, and I finally sit up and something bumps the back of my head. I feel behind my head, and all I feel is the steel vertical seat bar. So I return to whatever I'm messing with. Eventually I sit up again and I bump my head again. So I turn around to see what's up and this very black lady is glaring at me and I notice she had her hair wrapped up on the back of her head and it sticks out about a foot. So I say, "You have big hair!" in a very friendly, kind of joyous way. Ya know what she says? In a confrontational aggressive way? "And you can't sit still!"
"All I did was sit up straight in my seat"
"Well, don't sit up!"
"Excuse Me! You're telling me not to sit up in my own seat on the train?"
OK. Let me move to another seat.
"Oh, now you gonna move to another seat!?"
Uh, well, yah, is that rocket science?
So she continues yelling at me, and I just say "well you DO have big hair. It's not like an insult. You just do!" But she's stuck on my ants-in-the-pants label, so I finally start saying "we don't have to hate each other". I pretty quickly give that up though.
After a little bit this really skinny guy comes on and starts preachin Jesus. Oh, hell no. No, no, no, no, no. Big Hair Lady already has me turned on, plus I'm a little pissed off about New Vendor Guys Fake Bacon, so I can't help myself and I word vomit to him "I paid too much for my ticket on this train to listen to THIS. Do you want to pay for my ticket?!" Some passengers smile at me. "Right?!", they laugh. But he just keeps preachin his crap so i put on my headphones.
A lot of the train clears out after this point, but a new guy comes on handing out little slips of paper to everyone, not really asking if they want it, just giving it to them. He comes near me and I say "You don't want to give me one cause I'll Yell." No problem, he doesn't. I'm really curious about what's written on it, but not enough to ask for one. After he hands them out he goes back to the other end of the train and passes his hat. - - - - -
Really?
This is a new trick. This is a new one. I've never seen this before. Hand people your art work, or poem, unasked, unsolicited, almost forced - and then ask for money for it. I have to admire the pro-active attitude. Isn't that the American way? Isn't that how the American Dream is realized.
Ahem
On the train home from rehearsal, there is a homeless man walking the car, not even asking for anything. He doesn't have to, his appearance asks for him. Well I assume he's homeless. He's wearing tatters, he's unshaven, he's very thin, and he has no shoes. It's the last bit that slays me; his long thin bare feet that he is trying not to step on as he walks, obviously in pain. I always look at the footwear of panhandlers. If you have better kicks than me, I am not giving you coin. I empty out my change purse for this guy. I really want to take him to buy shoes, but I don't even know how to initiate that. And he's old. Someone's son, brother, uncle, maybe father? Grandfather? and uncared for. alone. I know there are those who refuse help, who choose to live on the streets. Shouldn't there be some way for them to be cared for? It's just not right to punish people for non-conformity. This is a complicated issue to some. To me it's simple. If you are not hurting anyone there should be a way for you to have the basic needs. Period.
I feel helpless. and empty. and incredibly sad. What circumstances brought him to this? He does not appear drugged or jonesing - just, plain destitute. I am embarrassed that we live in a society that has such callous disregard for the well being of it's members.
I would much rather be able to laugh about someone's creative way of panhandling as they try to promote their own creation than to be wondering why an old, sick man has no shoes.
And I'd love to end with an upbeat line about looking forward to next Saturday's train ride to Bay Ridge, and all the adventures it will provide. But I know I will see too many bodies sleeping on cardboard in the subway entrances.
Monday, October 1, 2012
AwwwShiznit
I'm a little freaking out right now. OK. I'm a lot freaking out right now. A BIG part of it is that I have a cold. For some reason, when I get sick I get all needy and insecure. And needy. (Warning: this post is full of bad grammatical choices).
Aaand I just got this weird call from Arizona informing me some charges had gone through on my bank card. They want to know, did I make them? Nope. I did not just buy $300 worth of shoes at Zappos. No. That was definitely not me. Ok we have to cancel your card.
Freaking out big time.
My bank is still in NH because I can't find a credit union here that has literal free checking like my NH bank does. So I depend on my debit card for all my transactions. Taking cash out of the ATM is costly. And I can't even do that now till I get a new card. Hopefully there'll be a bank that'll cash checks for me in the meantime.
I was starting to feel pretty settled and competent here in the city. I live here now and everything is going to work out. That's how I felt.
But I've had monkey mind since Saturday. I was assured by my friend, while we were playing with makeup on Sunday, that I appear very patient and calm. BUT I'M NOT the voice inside my head is screaming while it beats its fists against the sides of its hips jumping side to side like Tigger on crack.
When my daughter left the nest three years ago (THREE. COUNT EM) I wasn't immediately conscious of the loss I felt. I mean, she lives here in the city, well Brooklyn, but close enough. But for eighteen years it was just the two of us. I still feel like a little row boat lost at sea, but most of the time I find a tie-off at work, or rehearsal, or hanging with friends. This card thing has me in the middle of a whirlpool wondering which side I'm gonna fly off of: Port? Stern? Fore? Aft?
And last night I kept having nightmares about being at an outdoors party except I was working at a desk and everyone wasn't nice. And there was a bag of pastel clothing - truly frightening.
I'm trying to pinpoint what it is I feel so wigged out about. There's a part of me that just knows everything's going to be OK. I have friends who will be available if I get in a desperate situation, but that's not going to happen. Even if I imagine the worst that can happen, I mean, what's the worst that can happen? Don't answer that.
Maybe it's time to bite the bullet and open an account here in the city. Cringe.
I don't even think I'm going to have time for that this week tho. I have rehearsal almost every night after work.
On the upside, I really want to save some money, and not having access to my account will certainly accomplish that. I mean, I came very close to making some purchases that would have spent as much as the thieves did today, but I reigned myself in.
Well, now. I feel all better. This is actually a good thing. I might just find my frugal side again.
And I realize, the biggest thing that makes me feel adrift is being by myself. If I had someone, a partner to be talking to about this, to reassure me, to make me laugh, and to depend on practically, this would all be a big ol' joyride.
Which brings me to what I really think; this is just the next lesson. Because I didn't even tell you about the platform nazi who semi-attacked me at rush hour today. He called me a Jew and everything. It was really clear that he was a bully. OK. Here's what happened. I'm on the platform, waiting for the A train. A really crowded one comes, and I have a huge bag with me cause I had my dad send my fur coat (which I got at a craft fair in 1985 for $50) because I might wear it in one of my shows, so I wait for the next one. It didn't come as quickly as I thought it would, so the platform filled up again. I'm standing near the elevator and this double carriage comes out and clips me on the leg. No biggy, the guy didn't see me, whatever. So when the train does come, I slither in front of this double baby carriage, which is now facing the train as the guy thinks he's gonna get on a rush hour train with this thing. Anyway, I'm waiting for the train to stop and unload and I feel a shove on my calves. I turn around and the guy is gesticulating at me. "Did you just shove me?!" I ask. He gesticulates about my slithering in front of his carriage. I shove the carriage back at him. "Don't shove me!"
He comes around the carriage like he's gonna hit me, with this creepy smile on his face. I just stand there. He goes, "Jew". I said, "What did you say?" He smiles and goes, "Yah". I yell something about derogatory terms, which I realize after wasn't what I meant, and also realize afterwards that he probably beats his little wife and enjoys it immensely, but I was on the train by then, far from the madding crowd, and completely aware that this moon phase has passed into it's waning phase and - Oh. Thanks Universe. This. is what's up. Awesome. And now the thing about the card.
But it really is all going to be ok. I mean, didn't someone post a picture of Jean-Luc in a "This is what a feminist looks like" T-shirt? Yah. Plus my waiter when I took myself out to dinner (and that's a perk right there; that I can do that) had a hispanic accent like the hispanic guy on That 70s Show. Made my night. Until the card thing.
Awwwwshiznit I'm gonna try and smile anyway
Aaand I just got this weird call from Arizona informing me some charges had gone through on my bank card. They want to know, did I make them? Nope. I did not just buy $300 worth of shoes at Zappos. No. That was definitely not me. Ok we have to cancel your card.
Freaking out big time.
My bank is still in NH because I can't find a credit union here that has literal free checking like my NH bank does. So I depend on my debit card for all my transactions. Taking cash out of the ATM is costly. And I can't even do that now till I get a new card. Hopefully there'll be a bank that'll cash checks for me in the meantime.
I was starting to feel pretty settled and competent here in the city. I live here now and everything is going to work out. That's how I felt.
But I've had monkey mind since Saturday. I was assured by my friend, while we were playing with makeup on Sunday, that I appear very patient and calm. BUT I'M NOT the voice inside my head is screaming while it beats its fists against the sides of its hips jumping side to side like Tigger on crack.
When my daughter left the nest three years ago (THREE. COUNT EM) I wasn't immediately conscious of the loss I felt. I mean, she lives here in the city, well Brooklyn, but close enough. But for eighteen years it was just the two of us. I still feel like a little row boat lost at sea, but most of the time I find a tie-off at work, or rehearsal, or hanging with friends. This card thing has me in the middle of a whirlpool wondering which side I'm gonna fly off of: Port? Stern? Fore? Aft?
And last night I kept having nightmares about being at an outdoors party except I was working at a desk and everyone wasn't nice. And there was a bag of pastel clothing - truly frightening.
I'm trying to pinpoint what it is I feel so wigged out about. There's a part of me that just knows everything's going to be OK. I have friends who will be available if I get in a desperate situation, but that's not going to happen. Even if I imagine the worst that can happen, I mean, what's the worst that can happen? Don't answer that.
Maybe it's time to bite the bullet and open an account here in the city. Cringe.
I don't even think I'm going to have time for that this week tho. I have rehearsal almost every night after work.
On the upside, I really want to save some money, and not having access to my account will certainly accomplish that. I mean, I came very close to making some purchases that would have spent as much as the thieves did today, but I reigned myself in.
Well, now. I feel all better. This is actually a good thing. I might just find my frugal side again.
And I realize, the biggest thing that makes me feel adrift is being by myself. If I had someone, a partner to be talking to about this, to reassure me, to make me laugh, and to depend on practically, this would all be a big ol' joyride.
Which brings me to what I really think; this is just the next lesson. Because I didn't even tell you about the platform nazi who semi-attacked me at rush hour today. He called me a Jew and everything. It was really clear that he was a bully. OK. Here's what happened. I'm on the platform, waiting for the A train. A really crowded one comes, and I have a huge bag with me cause I had my dad send my fur coat (which I got at a craft fair in 1985 for $50) because I might wear it in one of my shows, so I wait for the next one. It didn't come as quickly as I thought it would, so the platform filled up again. I'm standing near the elevator and this double carriage comes out and clips me on the leg. No biggy, the guy didn't see me, whatever. So when the train does come, I slither in front of this double baby carriage, which is now facing the train as the guy thinks he's gonna get on a rush hour train with this thing. Anyway, I'm waiting for the train to stop and unload and I feel a shove on my calves. I turn around and the guy is gesticulating at me. "Did you just shove me?!" I ask. He gesticulates about my slithering in front of his carriage. I shove the carriage back at him. "Don't shove me!"
He comes around the carriage like he's gonna hit me, with this creepy smile on his face. I just stand there. He goes, "Jew". I said, "What did you say?" He smiles and goes, "Yah". I yell something about derogatory terms, which I realize after wasn't what I meant, and also realize afterwards that he probably beats his little wife and enjoys it immensely, but I was on the train by then, far from the madding crowd, and completely aware that this moon phase has passed into it's waning phase and - Oh. Thanks Universe. This. is what's up. Awesome. And now the thing about the card.
But it really is all going to be ok. I mean, didn't someone post a picture of Jean-Luc in a "This is what a feminist looks like" T-shirt? Yah. Plus my waiter when I took myself out to dinner (and that's a perk right there; that I can do that) had a hispanic accent like the hispanic guy on That 70s Show. Made my night. Until the card thing.
Awwwwshiznit I'm gonna try and smile anyway
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Where Ever You Go...
Oh, my, my, my. No. Yours
Sorry, it's gonna be one of those manic posts I suspicion. I don't fear or suspect, however. I tried those words out and dismissed them.
AHEM
So I reviewed the previous posts on here.
JOY!! I don't even remember being in the midst of that angst that caused the writing of the one about the work drama. So I guess I was able to manifest my belief. I'm working in a quiet, no-drama environment where the only real fear is that I'll get in my own way.
AND I'm manifesting some little dreams. I've started singing Karaoke in a safe little environment and become somewhat of a big fish in a little pond within the big apple.
I'm playing a small part in a wonderful Gershwin musical, I've jumped into another small role to rescue a friend's show, I'm auditioning to teach a dance based exercise class, I'm interviewing to volunteer with an organization that is working to end extreme poverty and performed a poem last night at an open mic with a cool theatre group here in the city that I hope to make a permanent part of my life. It's not the Tonight Show show. Yet. But I'll take it.
I've even become grateful for my living situation. It's a lovely home in a lovely location. It really is quiet most of the time and you can not beat the price! I've made a certain peace with my roommates and it's actually pleasant to be there.
Most importantly, I have been able to accept the fact that a large part of the dissonance in my home life was due to my own issues and perceptions and stubbornness in the face of change. WOW. I hate that. I mean, I love that I'm resolving it, but I hate that it's me and I have to face that. It makes me crinkle my nose as though there's an unpleasant odor in the air.
It is the season of death, however, and it is time to let outmoded beliefs die and allow a rebirth into the embrace of some new, appropriate and joyful ones. This is, literally, written in the stars. According to the Power Path Moon Forecast, which I am a big follower of, this is a theme that will be prevalent for the next three years as we, as a society, transition out of a materialistic view focused on the individual into a spiritual oneness.
And here I will include my poem, On The Benefits of Lentils, which was first performed last night, September 26, 2012 at The Actor's Theatre Workshop, NYC. Not so manic after all. Enjoy.
Sorry, it's gonna be one of those manic posts I suspicion. I don't fear or suspect, however. I tried those words out and dismissed them.
AHEM
So I reviewed the previous posts on here.
JOY!! I don't even remember being in the midst of that angst that caused the writing of the one about the work drama. So I guess I was able to manifest my belief. I'm working in a quiet, no-drama environment where the only real fear is that I'll get in my own way.
AND I'm manifesting some little dreams. I've started singing Karaoke in a safe little environment and become somewhat of a big fish in a little pond within the big apple.
I'm playing a small part in a wonderful Gershwin musical, I've jumped into another small role to rescue a friend's show, I'm auditioning to teach a dance based exercise class, I'm interviewing to volunteer with an organization that is working to end extreme poverty and performed a poem last night at an open mic with a cool theatre group here in the city that I hope to make a permanent part of my life. It's not the Tonight Show show. Yet. But I'll take it.
I've even become grateful for my living situation. It's a lovely home in a lovely location. It really is quiet most of the time and you can not beat the price! I've made a certain peace with my roommates and it's actually pleasant to be there.
Most importantly, I have been able to accept the fact that a large part of the dissonance in my home life was due to my own issues and perceptions and stubbornness in the face of change. WOW. I hate that. I mean, I love that I'm resolving it, but I hate that it's me and I have to face that. It makes me crinkle my nose as though there's an unpleasant odor in the air.
It is the season of death, however, and it is time to let outmoded beliefs die and allow a rebirth into the embrace of some new, appropriate and joyful ones. This is, literally, written in the stars. According to the Power Path Moon Forecast, which I am a big follower of, this is a theme that will be prevalent for the next three years as we, as a society, transition out of a materialistic view focused on the individual into a spiritual oneness.
And here I will include my poem, On The Benefits of Lentils, which was first performed last night, September 26, 2012 at The Actor's Theatre Workshop, NYC. Not so manic after all. Enjoy.
On the benefits of lentils
Which are loaded with goodness of protein
And nutrients for your temple
Of love
Only make sure they’re organic
Littlelegumes
Not Monsanto-ized for profit
But born of the good earth
We have all
Agreed to create
Lets go forward
Making it whole
Believing it is rich and abundant
And well loved
Because we know atoms are arisen of consciousness
That the beliefs we believe are the pictures we see
The dream we live is the one we planned in that hypnogogic state
Between sleep and true wakefulness
Are you truly awake, tho
Daring to believe that the life you dream of
The life I dream of is where
all love each other
Differences are honored
Animals are never abandoned
And children are all happy and free
Tyranny isn’t a word understood
And abundance is a given
The way that the glow of the sun is to us all now
Don’t you feel your heart open and swell at the thought
Stay there!
With that open swollen heart
And let it spill out into the atoms
And the mind of the world
And into each others hearts.
That one heart that we all possess together
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