Saturday, July 31, 2010

the new deal of the subjective i

i've been reading a lot of philosophy the past few days. in between celebrity gossips. and pretending to work on other more meaningful things. i've been reading freud. and zizek. and interpretations of lacan. mostly out of the desire to fully understand what i am doing in therapy.

my therapist makes a lot of philosophical references. which is good. that's why i go to him. because he has a much more profound understanding of the human condition. the average therapist working off the dsm-iv knows fuck all about the hegelian subject. or sartrean existentialism. or dasein. not that these concepts are central to lacanian therapy, well hegel is for sure, but hegel is central to everything coming after. they go along with it, though.

it's a much more...refined approach. and way more intelligent. and he has excellent taste. at least judging from the office furnishings. maybe it shouldn't, but this matters to me greatly. you can tell a lot about a person by their taste in furnishings.

ultimately, however, philosophical knowledge trumps taste.

the point is that i have been giving analysis a lot of thought. where it is going. what i am even doing. what am i, generally thinking.

from now on this is how it has to be.

i am a being in the world. i am not broken. i am not something to be fixed. i just am. outside of my experiences in this world, i am nothing. experiences have happened. these experiences form how i am. how i react. it isn't about the person i am reacting to, but the experience. it has gotten to that point.

my past experiences structure the meanings i ascribe to people and things.

from now on, in my interpersonal relationships the other can either accept that i have flaws deriving from negative experiences and be supportive of my efforts to better myself, or they can get the fuck out.

i also have to learn to accept this about the other. that sometimes it isn't about me. it is about the underlying emotion. that it isn't personal.

so what now?

in the existentialist tradition, i accept that the past is done and the future cannot be seen. and i (the subject) am confined to the ambiguous middle space.

i can only be what i am. a constantly evolving being in the world.

and, also...transition is painful.

goodness of fit

is an impossible ideal.

or, at the very least extraordinarily difficult for me. and i'm talking clothing here. people complain about larger sizes an i feel you, but it is also massively frustrating to work really hard on your body and STILL not be able to find things that fit.

the problem? measurements. according to most measuring standards i wear between a size 4-6 in the waist. BUT...a size 14-16 in the bust and hips.

in case you are slow, that means my body is bangin'. but also...that is HUGE discrepancy.

this explains so much. about a year ago i read kim kardashian say she was a size 2. and i was all like 'there is NO WAY that ass fits in a size 2'. in the waist she probably is a size 2. but absolutely not in the hips. her solution, and advice, is to get everything tailored.

this is great advice. but totally unrealistic. i can barely afford clothes. much less tailoring.

sigh. time to start my day. democratization research. then freud. but first, a little grad theft auto...nothing like a little gratuitous violence to start your day.

Friday, July 30, 2010

and it's a story that might bore you, but you don't have to listen...

actually you're reading this, so i guess you do have to listen. or you are choosing to listen. i've written a lot about sad things lately. this is just where i do that. in reality, i'm totally functional. almost functional.

the only good thing that happens when things get all fucked up is that you get to see who people really are. who cares and who doesn't. who actually loves you, and who is phoning it in.

love isn't something you just say to say it. i mean, it's great to hear, but it's only a fraction of what love is.

tb is love. to me.

no matter how bitchy i matter how i am matter how outrageously i am carrying on....

he is always there.

that's love. someone that will always answer the phone. that you know is there for you. no. matter. what.

you might get mad at someone. you might not like everything they do or say. they might not always react the way you want them to.

but you accept that and love them for who they are. a constantly evolving being in the world.

that's what tb is for me. a constant.

those are the only people that have the right to even invoke the word love.

the very ticklish subject

i was going to write something really smart this morning. something philosophically motivated dealing with the consideration of the idea of self and what i am struggling with and what i have to do now and so on.

instead i will tell you about some other words that i hate. these words are as 'everything happens for a reason' and 'there's a lesson in everything'. or some other variant. what the fuck is that shit? these things go hand in motherfucking hand.

if the reason is the inherent selfishness of the other and the lesson is people are not to be trusted then...ok. there is a reason and lesson to everything.

i hate to be that pessimistic. because after all the crying and and all the down with love talk and all the distrust and all the sadness....i want to believe more than anything that love actually exists.

underneath it all, i have this hope. and i think it is killing me.

i am so careful with my feelings. i am so careful with my emotions. because i am hypersensitive. because people's actions do affect me. that's why i don't let people in. ever.

lacanians, and i think freudians to an extent, like to talk about the fantasy of seduction. which (to the best of my understanding) means that in interpersonal romantic relationships the self creates this image or idea about what the other wants and projects that. back and forth. it goes both ways. i think the challenge is to transcend the fantasy and still want to be with that person.

the thing is...i don't believe anyone. i know that people will say and do what they think you want to hear or have, to get what they want from you. the problem is that every now and then i will take a risk on someone that i like enough to willingly suspend my disbelief. and so it hurts way more in the end. way more.

i don't think this makes me a bad person, all of these feelings. i don't want to stop feeling. i just want to be a way that will make people want to be with me not run away from me.
and now i get to start the process of deconstructing myself. and i'm scared. and i don't want to.

and i'm afraid that the the thing that the critical juncture brought on by a culmination of experiences was only that. and that the interactions were just part of this larger process and that certain others were only to serve as catalysts. and that they are gone forever.

i realize that this was a bit stream of consciousness. and i apologize. and also, this isn't about one person. this is about a lot of really bad experiences. things that hurt me a lot over the course of my life. things i can't shake.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

you old devil moon

because what do i have to write about other than sadness and the miracle of being a woman?

i realize that i have male readers and monthly hormonal disturbances might not be something you want to read about. i suppose my answer to that is....too fucking bad.

so i'm sure faithful readers will recall the month i spent on the pill. until my body basically forced me to stop taking it. i threw up every day. i woke up in the night so nauseous i couldn't sleep. much to my displeasure i gained like two cup sizes. which was painful. kind of like if you were breast feeding. but without the feeding. just the swelling.

i was truly miserable.


i stopped with the pill and i was thinking something along the lines of...oh...i wouldn't get my period for a while. like maybe even a couple of months.

WRONG. i'm right back on the optimal 28 day cycle. i think i get more moonlight here. it shines directly into my room.

i have had the worst headaches. yesterday and today. like so bad that i have to stop what i'm doing and lay down. today this happened while i was flipping channels and i just had to stop and go to sleep. so i woke up to sean hannity. who is a fucking animal. like the kind that natural selection would kill off, except will live in modernity. and he was talking to elizabeth hasselbeck of all people. about obama's trip to vaginatown this morning. and why they didn't ask him tougher questions. no wonder i woke up feeling like i got hit by a truck.

i'm totally overheating.

luckily my mother ordered and sent to me a blender. a brand new blender. so i can make smoothies. which is what i'm having for dinner. it lowers my body temp at least 10 degrees. and i get nutrients.

ice+whole milk+oj+vanilla+ rosewater+strawberries+blueberries+white nectarines+ a whole lotta ice=

i might make it through this.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

this is probably going to hurt

you know it's going to be bad when your therapist says that to you.

actually. i think he said that the process we're about to start 'might be very painful'. which is not what you want to hear ever. not at the tattoo parlor. not at the dentist. and certainly not at therapy.

the funny thing is that i have a really high tolerance for physical pain. but like no tolerance for emotional pain. i can sit through medical procedures. tattoos. various waxings. and not shed a tear. working at the restaurant i've cut my fingers with huge knives. burned myself terribly. but i kept right on working.

i wanted to walk out and not go back.

in the past, i've loved therapy. i've loved talking about myself. but lacanian therapy is really fucking hard. it's way harder than standard therapy where they give you advice and teach you how to recognize anxiety triggers.

but this time i'm so scared. am i that bad off that i can't even trust my own therapist? it's hard for me to even always tell him everything. i keep telling myself that he isn't going to hate me. it doesn't matter to him. he's not going to abandon me. i mean, for one thing, i'm paying him. it's his job.

the only reason he would stop seeing me is if i didn't have any problems. and clearly...that's not the case.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

the perils of magnetism: case study from a jamaican restaurant

man magnet? indeed.

i went to this jamaican place today. there were three occupied tables. at one table there was a very serious guy in a dashiki, at another there was a very serious rasta, and another there were three teenage boys. what there was not was any other white people or women.

there was also an older gentleman with no concept of personal space who was meandering about talking to everyone.

while i was ordering, the gentleman mentioned above looked me up in down in a complete obvious way and said "how ARE you today, my beautiful white sister?"

no. i didn't laugh.

i just smiled and said i was fine... how was he...blah blah blah.

i didn't really think nothing of it. until he was leaving. and he gave me the black power fist and said 'stay beautiful'. i laughed.

they serious guy in the dashiki was not amused. at that point the rasta and the boys had left so it was just me and him. and the crazy man. who at that point had wandered outside.

i went to get a to-go box.

when i turned around, crazy man was back. he burst out laughing and said...and i am not making this up...

"girl, from the back i though you were a sister. i DID." (more laughter)

the serious man in the dashiki was, again, not amused and was looking at me like i was a white she-devil.

and the the crazy guy grabbed me. around the waist. i performed an evasive maneuver to escape his clutches. at which point, the owner was like 'oh, hell no' and made him leave. and the woman working there apologized to me. which was super cool, but totally necessary.

the man in dashiki looked at me disdainfully.

i guess i need to turn it down. sigh.

the food, by the way, was absolutely to die for. crazy man or not, i can't wait to go back.

perils of attraction

i get daily astrological updates/forecasts from at least three different sources. look, the thing is i like to cross-check and triangulate the information in order that i might ascertain the best possible picture of my daily/weekly/monthly destiny.

i also get all kinds of other astrological updates from these same sources above and beyond the required daily reading. things telling me about the influences of various planets, the moon, the sun et cetera. and all manner of other helpful advice.

the point? i'm getting to it. today i get an email asserting to instruct me on becoming a man magnet. that's right a man magnet.

i guess there's a lot of single gals reading the horoscopes.

i'm already a man magnet. attraction isn't the problem. in fact, i would prefer to repel rather than attract. everywhere i go, i get approached. or otherwise engaged. i'm sick of it.

because what's the point? people are all the same. no matter what they tell you. no matter who they are. no matter how they present themselves.

they'll turn their back on you in a second when it comes down to it. and from now on, so will i.

in case you are wondering, my advice was this...

CANCER: Make your feelings work for you.
Cancers get accused of moodiness, but you can channel those intense feelings in a positive way. Only act when you feel in complete control. Ward against appearing too needy or coming on too strong. When you feel an intense desire for someone, put your emotion into an art form or use it to fuel your projects and work. Your soulfulness makes you an amazing creator, which in turn brings the one you want to you.

good advice, i suppose. i've pushed a lot of people away because of my innate inability to constructively convey my feelings. it hurts, because to the people that actually got to see my feelings (which are really few), my intentions were good. i am intense, but i am honest. i do the best i can. i am trying to be better. i work on myself everyday. just like anyone else.

but it's all irrelevant because a nice rack trumps creative energy every time. trust me.

Monday, July 26, 2010

the wrong words

there are certain phrases that i abhor.

things like 'we need to talk'. you know when you hear these words that nothing good is going to come out of that conversation. although, trust me when i tell you that having someone say 'we need to talk' is far preferable to having them not consider you worth even a conversation. a conversation in which they give the other person a chance to say what they want to say. even if they don't like what you have to say. even if it hurts to hear what you have to say. at least they are person enough to say it to your face, even if they have to use the lamest intro imaginable.

and no. a short 'i can't. i'm sorry. don't hate me.' a la post-it style attempt DOES NOT COUNT.

another odious turn of phrase is 'when you meet the right person, you just know.' i say this with full recognition that i am going straight into hater mode right now. i've been trying to pinpoint exactly why this phrase bothers me so much. is it because i can't feel it? is it because the very few times that i have felt it, i've ended up getting hurt so badly that when i feel that feeling now i have a pavlov-ish reaction in the form of withdrawal? i freeze up. i become defensive.

it's gotten to the point that i hate even hearing the words 'i love you'. i get so afraid when i hear them. nauseous even. because i know that no one has ever said them to me and meant them, at least not in the context of romantic encounter. and when i express this, understand that there is no single person to blame, rather the culmination of a series of unfortunate events. events that have taken place over the course if a lifetime. repeated negative reinforcement.

but i don't want to be that way. i more than anything to believe.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

a lychee for your thoughts

i went to the grocery store today. i should have known better. every time i go there on a sunday i run into people from school. it's a mostly organic grocery store, so mostly i run into professors.

which i don't mind. it's just most mornings i look like i've been smoking rock. this morning in particular. i don't know which is worse. letting them assume i've been smoking or to be like 'i'm not high, i've just been crying, but it's cool i go to therapy. it's just that all this self-actualization is painful.'


so as the pretenders sang on i made small talk about how good my summer was.

and they had fresh lychees at the store. that was the good news. so delicious. like flowery plums. i'm thinking of muddling them with basil and topping that with the white lambrusco i bought as a cocktail to go with my cold pasta. i'll let you know how that goes.

back to the tears. contrary to how it might appear here, i don't sit around weeping all the time. this is just where i write about those times. the way that i, personally, work through them.

i've hit a point in therapy at which i am recognizing things about myself that i don't like. an now i am in the process of reevaluating my feelings towards a lot of things and people. how i have acted. what i feel. how i express it.

it's like 12 steps. where you want to make amends. but in one instance i can't. and that pains me. so very much. maybe it isn't time. i keep hoping everyday that it will be the day that i get to do that. stupid, right?

because the funny thing is, this time...the important feelings haven't changed.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

just like muddy waters

all day i have been wanting something. but i don't know what it is. i even went and got fro-yo. not it. i went to the restaurant down the street where the girls dress like hookers from tj. i drank two beers, while being eyeballed by a table full of vatos. that wasn't it. i thought about smoking a cigarette. but i didn't want one of those either.

i'm in a dilemma.

i want to apply for this job. but i'm scared. if i got this job, it would be a permanent break with academia. as in ties severed. for good. there would be no coming back.

but it might be the job i was born to do.

it would also mean way more money and that i could move to LA.

but i'm not really qualified. not fully. actually, i'm well qualified. but not officially.

so the chances of even getting an interview are slim. but at the same time, i will hate myself forever if i don't at least try.

it's a what is and never could be situation.

so that's that. and i'm still pretty sad about this other thing. it is weighing down my heart.


Friday, July 23, 2010

nostalgia keeps me coming back

i cooked tonight. curry chicken salad with pistachios. and a green salad. i made a peach-mango vinaigrette with hibiscus. i've never used hibiscus in anything. but i remember the taste from aqua jamaica. and they had the dried flowers at the mexi mart. it added a whole new flavor dimension and fit with the mango perfectly.

the mango. a funny thing happened while i was cutting the mango. we have the best mangoes in cali. and for super cheap. i usually get the red/green ones. but they were all green today. not ripe. so i had to get the other kind. they are similar to i think what is called an 'alphonso' mango. as i was cutting it, i ate a piece.

and there it was.

a taste i thought i would never taste again. i haven't tasted a mango like that since i was in africa. with one of my ex-boyfriends.

so there it was. our whole relationship in a mango. it didn't make me sad. just reminiscent.

i went to psychic on my birthday. she said that it is hard for me to make connections. but when i do i see that person everywhere. the most random things remind me of them. the person above i don't see anywhere anymore. except today in the mango.

that was another time.

now i see someone else. and i hate it. or i would hate it. if i could hate them. but i can't.

so here i sit. on a friday night. drinking lambrusco. yeah...i said it. lambrusco. and is not riunite. lambrusco is coming back. so suck it haters.

but i'm not sad. don't worry. i know tomorrow brings the golden sun.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

if anyone ever asks you what therapy is like

it's really fucking hard.

which is why i never wanted to do it in the first place. seriously. it hurts a lot.

i wish i had funny, insightful things to say about self-revelation. but i don't. i just have a lot of pain.

and also really bad dreams. which is why i'm awake at 5am. and can't go back to sleep. i can only sit here in the dark and think.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

on the eve of my 31st birthday

i feel compelled to say....i don't know...something...

but i got nothin'.

i am going to eat the most fattening meal i can find tomorrow. i'm thinking confit. duck confit. either that or fois gras/duck sausage. but that's immoral. fois gras is completely uncalled for. even for a meat eater. let's hope it doesn't come to that. a nice confit will do. and i'm gonna have ice cream too.

therapy. that's what i'm doing for my birthday. so all day in hollywood. which i love. and then drinks.

anyway. there's only one thing i want. and it's not fucking likely.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

alone with sushi

i realized something tonight as i was eating my almost perfect sushi rolls alone. as i was sitting there listening to this couple on a getting to know you type first date. the guy was totally lame. thirty-something, balding, slightly fat probably with a good job, but completely devoid of anything interesting to say. and the girl? clearly looking for her MRS badly enough to feign interest in this guy.

harsh? maybe. my opinion on dating/romance isn't the highest right now.

but it made me realize something very important about myself. which is that i like being alone. i sat there enjoying NOT having to talk to anyone. i can order what i want. i can go where i want.

i'm glad that i can go out to eat by myself.

the truth is...i don't need anyone. i haven't for a long time. all of this sadness really comes from missing the one person whose company i actually enjoy more than my own.

i should make it clear that i haven't exactly been sitting at home sad. i cry a lot on here, but i go out. i do what i please. i see who i see. but not who i want.

it's heartbreaking.

i could just play along. phoning it in until some poor sucker was foolish enough to marry me. i get approached everyday. if it were about not being alone, i wouldn't be alone. i would have dates all the time. i could have a boyfriend any time. but i don't want to do that. i don't need too. i'm happy alone.

not very many people get to me. but when they the do, they really do.

absolutely foul

my usual reaction whenever anyone brings up children is...ugh. who need 'em? i concede that they are like the ultimate vanity project. ego gratification in the extreme. so in a way, it would seem that children would be right up my alley.

i'm not gonna lie. there is a huge part of me that wants children. but i've met maybe two people that i could really say that i would want children with. i know how picky i am about...well...everything. and most of those things don't even matter.

but i'm not even trying to take you all on a detour down i'm-in-my-early-thirties-what-is-my-life coming-to lane ending up in maybe-i-should-have-a-baby town. in fact, i can't think of a more boring trip.

i may be a lot of things. but boring isn't one of them.

because it isn't children that i hate. it's parents. not all parents...just the irresponsible, lazy as fuck ones that breed socially maladjusted children that grow up into miserable adults. having children doesn't give you a free pass to be as nasty as you wanna be.

case in point...

i was at the coffee bean this morning and this slovenly couple comes in with a toddler. first of all, i don't feel that children should even be in coffee shops. if i wanted to look at and/or listen to annoying whining or meaningless prattle from a two year old before i have had my coffee, i would have my own fucking children.

so while this couple enjoys their lattes, their progeny starts peeing in the corner. let me point out that while i don't want to deal with this type of situation in my own life, i fully understand that young children will do this sort of thing. it wasn't his fault.

so what do his parents do? the mother takes the kid to the bathroom and cleans him up (i assume). and the father? he goes back to his latte.

the mother and child return and they...

walk out of the coffee bean leaving a puddle of urine in the corner.


who in the fuck do you think you are? i was shocked, although i probably shouldn't be. people are disgusting, generally speaking. but still...

absolutely foul.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

it's funny because it's true...

How To Get Over A Break-Up from Almie Rose on Vimeo.

especially the part about texting, the logic of which extends to other forms of virtual communication. pick up a fucking phone...

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

binge and purge...mostly binge.

busy hands are happy hands. to distract myself from things that i can't control, i've been cooking.

cooking a lot of things...

mostly these things are healthy.

not pictured are the chocolate cake. and strawberry tart. and most recently dairy queen.

sad. but true.

stuffed zucchini.

pesto vegetables.

curried tofu salad w/ walnuts and cranberries.

whole wheat pasta salad.

my hands are still sad. there is something plaguing me. something i can't get rid of. i'll survive, for sure. but i don't want things to be this way.

monkeys plus chapatis equal

two of my favorite things. and the new show "rebel monkeys" on nat-geo has both.

the impending demise of 'the hills' is leaving a huge gap in my television agenda. and this is the show to fill that gap. in fact, it is a bit like 'the hills', but with monkeys.

essentially, the plot involves rival monkey gangs in jaipur. the engage in a shakespearian in magnitude power struggle for control of the temple. where they get to live like gods. in between, they get into a host of adorable shenanigans, while trying their best to avoid the government monkey catcher. who is eagerly waiting outside the temple (he can't trap them inside) to put an end to the monkeys' good times...

ooohhh...those pesky monkeys...those...adorable...pesky monkeys...

i am powerless against your charms. take my sunglasses...and here, have some bananas...

one word of warning. sometimes the monkeys die. and there is nothing sadder than a dead monkey.

Monday, July 12, 2010


is the only way to describe how i felt when i woke up this morning for the second time. the first time i woke up i felt like i was dying. my whole body ached. i was dizzy. my head hurt.

so i went back to sleep. for way too long.

i was planning to write a whole entry about how awesome the internet is given that you can look up all the people that USED to be good looking 10+ years ago when we were in high school. and now they have stretch marks, fat asses, and even fatter husbands (you know if this doesn't apply to you). and also fucked up looking children. i'm just sayin'.

but then i felt like that was mean.

tb told me the other day that i've totally lost my edge. sigh. it's true. i have all this compassion for everything right now. i'm sensitive to everyone's feelings. even people who really don't matter.

and then.

i called tb crying. again.

he told me that it hurt him to hear me this way. because he loves me. and i realized that this is what love is. actually, i already knew that. he told me that he had felt the way i feel now for years. and he never wanted that for me.

i never wanted it for myself.

it isn't about a person. it's about me. as usual. but there are things that make this process harder. one thing in particular. but there's nothing i can do about it. i can't even write about it here. i have no control over what happens. and you know how i love that...

also...if you're craving salt....

Sunday, July 11, 2010

economists are the new philosophers my new boyfriend. that's right, it's paul krugman. jealous? you fucking should be.

ok. so he's already married and he's not going to be my new boyfriend, but i am using him to illustrate a point.

i only consent to date people that are smarter than myself...
i don't go out much.

for years i have said that i wanted to marry a philosopher. an existentialist philosopher. no ancient philosopher need apply. your shit is boring. same with political theorists. fuck aristotle. hobbes is beyond lame. and don't even get me started on rousseau. the world has progressed and so should you.

all i wanted someone who could explain 'sein und zeit' to me.

well, it's a new day. philosophers out. economists in. this no doubt stems from spending the past month teaching myself basic economic principles. and feeling as though i have failed to do so. i need help. someone who can explain 'interest' and 'nominal debt' to me when i don't feel like looking it up in my economics dicitionary.

and i need someone to look after my finances for me. i need to diversify my portfolio. fuck...i need to get a portfolio. maybe they could be in charge of bill paying, as well. i always manage to forget.

so if you're out there...

hope chest

when i graduated from high school my mother bought me a hope chest. the idea is that you buy things along the way (in life) to place in chest that you will use to set up housekeeping. linens. dishes. things like that.
i never bought anything.

and so that empty chest has become a self-fulfilling prophesy. it's a beautiful antique chest, but there's nothing inside. empty. like me. like my apartment. like my life.


now i have wedding china. it belonged to grandmother's best friend. who died a few years ago. her son didn't want it. which to me seems crazy because the only way i can remember things is through contact with things. that 's why i can't let go of certain things. because i see something or eat something or touch something and it reminds me of someone. people get tangled up in my mind with things and then everything reminds me of something else.

i think it has to do with thinking in pictures. my mind is organized by association. i live with constant deja vu.

so anyway. the china. i have full place settings. except for one broken coffee cup. not the pattern i would have picked, but it has sentimental value. which, obviously, i am all about.

there's no hope in the chest, but now there will be china.

Friday, July 9, 2010

there's no such thing as the next best thing to love

i'm watching beach movies and writing my paper. gidget...beach blanket bingo...where the the boys are.

i don't really consider 'where the boys are' to be a beach movie in the classical sense because 1.) it's not set in california (rather ft lauderdale) and 2.) they don't really surf or anything. does have connie francis. and a conspicuously pale george hamiton. i mean...the one place where his freakishly bronzed skin would be semi-believable and he's the palest one in the room.

but don rickles is in beach blanket bingo. i have a thing for don rickles. and the intro montage is ridiculously awesome. beach blanket bi-i-i-i-ingo...

what the three films do have on common is that they showcase some seriously peculiar gender dynamics, albeit in caricatured ways (i fucking hope).

to our right is the real gidget, kathy kohner-zuckerman. she grew up in malibu. the movie was based on her journals. she still surfs sometimes. although she's been married for 42 years, she didn't marry moondoggie (he was real too).

but people still want to meet her. no one really remembers moondoggie. except in the context of the movie. but kathy is much beloved by and the surfing community and the malibu community.

so long moondoggie....

Thursday, July 8, 2010

is it too much to ask...

that food network/cooking channel hire some pleasing hosts for their cooking shows?

it's like picking a yoga studio. i want an instructor with a finer body than i. most of them do, but occasionally i've met some that i couldn't even believe ever practiced yoga much less taught classes.

or a hair dresser. i'm not about to go to someone with anything less than fabulous hair. i don't care what anyone says.

and when i watch food shows i don't want to watch large, slovenly persons cook delicate (yet insanely unhealthy) dishes. i want to pretend that i can also eat endless plates of duck confit, gratins, and profiteroles and look incredibly thin and glamorous. i want eat dishes slow cooked in fat and still have a fantastic figure.

i'm not saying that this is realistic, i'm just saying i want the illusion.

ok. so giada might be extreme and i think that the one bite of every dish she prepares (3-4 bites in total) is quite possible the only thing she eats all...week (?). but....she is a step in the right direction. nigella is a bit rounder than i would like to be personally, but she's pretty smokin' just the same. her body is so soft and round. actually....i take that back i would totally look like her. her face and hair are beautiful. and with her dominatrix accent i would put anything in my mouth that she said.

or gail simmons. i rather fancy her. she ought always to have been the primary host of top chef. because there are limits. padma lakshmi is ridiculous. a fucking joke. they only have her on top chef because of her looks. seriously. listen to her comments. they lack the knowledge base of someone like gail, who has years of experience training her palate. it's slightly insulting.

i wish they could all be anthony bourdain.

can you tell i've been watching a lot of cooking shows?

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

always something there to remind me...ALWAYS...

thanks a lot internet. now everybody is connected to everybody else. all the time. whether you want to be or not.

yahoo has self-selected me into receiving updates. which freaked me out. i never asked for that. then tb told me that the new yahoo mail, which yahoo has switched me to automatically, does that now.

i can't explain very well why this bothers me. first, i don't like change. i don't like going to check my email and have it look different than what i'm used to. second, it's just...there are some names i don't want to see.

so why don't i just delete them?

because i can't. i can't just delete certain people. even if i want to. it's just too big of a commitment. it feels too permanent. even if it isn't.

the internet is not awesome.

throughout this period of self-realization, i have begun to become aware of the fact that i am a very black and white kind of person. an either/or type. i live in extremes. love or hate. hot or cold. in or out. open or closed. salty or sweet.

either i care or i don't. i feel nothing or i feel everything. maybe that's the lesson right now. to be more middle path. i have to learn to disaggregate between what i should feel and what i don't need to feel because it isn't about me.

heightened empathy. a gift and a curse. it makes me a highly sensitive and deeply caring being-in-the-world. but the downside is that it opens me up to pain that really isn't mine to feel. because i feel it, it is about me. all the time.

i think i separate as a coping mechanism. because the very act of feeling is exhausting to me. i either care and i absorb (bad and good). or i don't care and i feel nothing. i have good manners and i don't try to hurt people, but i don't fully commit to their feelings.

sigh. connections are hard.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010


the other night i dreamed that i was a chihuahua.

i think it was because i was staying at some one's house and while i was sleeping, their chihuahua crawled into bed with me. it burrowed under the covers and snuggled up next to me. i think that my body absorbed the energy and transferred it into a dream.

i love chihuahuas. with their little bug eyed peter lorre faces. their tremors. their devious attention getting antics. i once knew a chihuahua that would run at your feet and then fall over yelping so that you (and everybody else within earshot) would think that you'd stepped on her. pure genius. at least the first time around.

i also woke up crying. i can't drink enough to drink this off my mind. i have been trying to avoid writing about my personal sadness as of late. thinking that if i don't write about it, then i won't give it the energy i need for other things. and maybe this would be a step towards eliminating it.

apparently it doesn't work that way. people keep telling me that with time, i will feel less sadness. less pain. less in general. but it doesn't seem to be working that way either. most people i can just block out of my life. but not this time. it makes me sadder every day. it is burdening my heart. and causing me pain.

i want to understand. i think about why i let this happen to myself. i think about why i would put myself in the position where i could be hurt this way. because, i mean, that's the question, right?

but i don't know the answer.

you have to trust. and so i did. i'm so scared that i might never be able to trust my own judgment. i don't trust people. i haven't for a very long time. it's so hard for me. i have to work at it. i just don't know what's to become of me. this might sound like it is about the other. but it isn't. it's about me. i'm scared for myself.

i'm hyper-sensitive to everything. i woke up crying again this morning. tb is at the end of his patience. he doesn't know what to do. there isn't anything he can do. he said he's worried about me and that this causes him stress to see me like this. and he doesn't like stress. and he doesn't like seeing me cry. but at least he cares if i cry or not.

i know it is getting to me when my anxiety starts acting up. i feel like i might be dying. i haven't felt that in forever and ever.

i know that this is on me right now. i could blame situational factors. but it's isn't that. i'm just not equipped to deal with things, i suppose.

i want to handle things gracefully. i am trying. i just want to know that it is going to be ok. that it isn't me. that i wasn't so stupid as to believe things that absolutely were not true.

i want to feel hopeful about the future again. i want to feel love again. and i don't know how to do it.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

hey ya'll

i'm back home in the south for a couple of weeks. we have all kind o' regional delicacies down here. most of them involve deep frying and meat.

i came across this fine example of regional cuisine at the local grocery store. for those of you who don't know, cheerwine is a soft drink that is only available in the deep south. i think the flavor is supposed to be cherry. it is a beautiful burgundy color.

some super genius decided why limit this flavor to a beverage, when you could flavor some substance reminiscent of whipped cream (kreme) with it and then stuff it in a doughnut. and not just any doughnut, but a krispy kreme doughnut.

if you've never had a krispy kreme doughnut, you are missing out. big time. although, let me be specify that you are missing out on fresh krispy kreme doughnuts. if you are lucky enough to live near a store where they make them on premises it is like heaven. when i was in high school my boyfriend and i used to get stoned and go there at 2am. and eat like a whole box.

somehow, the ones at the store never quite tasted as good.
regardless, i had to try them. i documented the journey on film. they tasted....not as bad as you would think. but not so good that i would ever eat another one. or even finish the one i started.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

i cried a river over the following...

speaking of imbalance the following things have made me cry...

1. pictures of the oil spill. it started with the pictures of the animals. now any picture of oil in the gulf waters.

2. the commercial against animal cruelty featuring willie nelson singing "you were always on my mind." partially because of the pictures and partially because of the song. that song is fucking sad.

3. in trueblood season 2 when godric died. i cried SO hard.

4. the tudors season 3 when the queen jane died. i didn't like her as much as anne boleyn and i didn't cry as hard as when henry executed anne, but it was still sad.

5. any art/music/film/tv show/conversation having to do with love. that second-hand emotion.

6. when i found out that the skim milk was bad and that i couldn't make the orange julius style smoothie that was the only thing i wanted to eat. actually, i didn't cry. but i was really, really sad. i had to make it with soy milk and while it was good, it wasn't the same.

the accidental vegetarian

i don't know what is going on with me. i seem to have lost my craving for meat entirely. well, maybe not entirely, but when i do eat, i feel kind of bad (like physically bad) so i am deterred from eating it. red meat especially.

i think i'm out of balance. actually i'm sure that i'm out of balance. like in my soul. i have a very heavy heart. and now i am feeling it in my body.

today i felt like i was dying. i couldn't get out of bed. my head hurt. i felt awful.

all i want is raw, cold food. sushi. salad. smoothies. cold tofu. cold noodles.

i'm looking into ayurvedic cooking styles and diets. but without sugar. i've decided to start eating yogurt everyday. a friend also told me about the alkaline diet, so i'm looking into that as well.

oh...and i'm on the rag. AGAIN.
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