Pretty girls don't get speeding tickets

Life isn't fair.
The nice guy finishes last. 
Women often earn less than men for doing the same jobs.
People who don't speak educatedly (see what I did there?) have a tougher time in life.
Politicians, movie stars, professional sports players and other people with gobs and gobs of money often live above the law.
Good looking, strong men get all the hot chicks. 
And, pretty girls don't get speeding tickets.

Or so, I thought. 



I'm not saying I'm all that or anything, but I have to admit that I've enjoyed some special treatment based on my good looks and big tits charm.

The regular conductor on my train brings me my favorite candy at least once a week. The men who work at Home Depot practically clamor to help me find "the-stuff-you-use-on-PVC-pipes-you-know what I mean?" Men in bars offer to buy me drinks. And, most importantly men in law enforcement always cut me some slack.

Thanks (I think) to Facebook, I've reunited with various girls I went to middle and high school with, and more than one of them has informed me that they "hated me in school because I always had the biggest boobs and the cutest boyfriend." Weird thing to say to someone you haven't seen in almost a decade, but anyway...The point is, there are women like them all throughout the world who hate women like me. And some of those women become traffic court judges. See where I'm going with this?

That's right, I was found guilty of a traffic violation today. Moi?!? After eleven years as a licensed driver, three tickets thrown out in court and about one million verbal and written warnings from cops more interested in gawking at me through my driver's side window with a big goofy smiles and "bedroom" in their eyes. Once I made a left turn on red in South Philly, and the cop that pulled me over simply lectured me a little and asked me to "please not to make him look bad." Another time I was pulled over on I95 just north of Baltimore and the officer told me I should slow down and gave me a tire safety brochure. Anyway, back to today in court....

I entered the courtroom confidently in my oh-so-innocent-looking, chocolate-colored suit, but as soon as I saw the hard-ass woman judge with wrinkly cheeks and narrow eye sitting behind the desk, I began to worry. And, I knew I was doomed when she confiscated someone's cell phone because they had forgotten to turn it off when they entered the court room.

A glimmer of hope washed over me when the officer who had pulled me over sat down next to me on the bench and smiled. He asked, "I pulled you over, right? What for?" I told him and he smiled broadly and asked how I was doing.

Once we were called to the stand, he smiled at me again and proceeded to tell the judge how cooperative and pleasant I was when he pulled me over. I asked for probation before judgment based on my clean driving record and respectful tone, and all I got was a measly 45$ reduction in the fine, points stand. Hater.

Help me decide on my next costume!

Thank you everyone who left a comment on my last post complimenting my Coraline-inspired costume.

There are few things in this world that offer me release like dancing to a funky beat. On the dance floor, the only thing that matters is moving my body to the rhythm. Thoughts of bills to be paid, work to be done and chores to be completed, melt away as my mind focuses only on stepping to the beat. The flashing and swirling lights, the awe-inspiring performances and the mass of people moving as one, transport me to care-free world, where anything is possible. Add a costume to the mix, and I become a new person--a better person who is not constrained by society's expectations nor my own inhibitions.

I think a friend of mine said it best when he told me, "it's hard to be shy while wearing a red velvet jump suit and feather boa."

The next costume party on my agenda, is an underwater-themed event in April. Though it's still a couple months off, I'm starting my costume planning now. That's where you come in. I need help deciding between two ideas.

1. Stingray
   This costume would involve a foil silver body suit, a hand-made stingray fin/tail shaped silver fabric cape that would attach at my back and by loops at my wrists, silver-painted sneakers, and wild silver eyeshadow and lipstick.
   
   
2.  Sea Nymph
   The possibilities are endless--sea shells, scale mail, shiny and sheer fabrics, flowing wig, lots of teals or blues. My concern with this idea, is that there will probably be a bizillion store-bought sexy mermaid or sea nymph costumes at the party. Mine would be unique because I'd make it myself, but there would be girls wearing similar outfits, no doubt.

Leave a comment and let me know which costume idea you like best!

My costume for PEX's Valentine's Day Party "Heart Burn"

Dancing all night is great fun, but dancing all night in a Coraline-inspired costume with glow-in-the-dark stars is even better.....

Heart-Burn was an amazing party...the beats were rocking, the vibe was just right and the performers were amazing. I posted videos the party of a performer hula-hooping with fire and
a couple doing some amazing yoga-style floor acrobatics on my other blog go check it out!

Post by numbers: How I survived Snowpocalypse '10

75 white felt stars painted with three coats each of glow-in-the-dark fabric paint for my Coraline-inspired costume for Saturday night


53 e-mails from my boss, my boss's boss and other people's bosses


36 inches of snow (maybe more--I don't know the final figure, but there was a lot of fucking snow)

9 hours of shoveling

8 trips zipping down a snowy hill on a sled in Patterson Park


7 days without wearing real pants


5 days off work


4 new recipes attempted--lentil soup, banana-carrot muffins, southern-style black eyed peas and slow cooked tenderloin with homemade chutney


3 seasons of 30 Rock on Netflix On Demand

2 six packs of ale, 1 bottle of Captain, and maybe a little whiskey




-- Post From My iPhone

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Last night, NPR aired an interview with Representative Duncan Hunter (Republican, California) in which he expressed his view that the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy should not be repealed. My blood pressure rose with every arguement he made, until I was so angry that I found myself screaming at my car radio.

There are few things in life that get me worked up like the ongoing--and absolutely ludicrious--"debate" over gay rights. How is it possible that in a society that supposedly values freedom and equal rights for all that, we still have to "debate" whether or not gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgenders should be afforded the same basic rights as everyone else.

I swear, our society is only about one step away from burning people at the stake and forced genital mutilation.

When Rep. Hunter was asked why he believed the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy should stand, here's what he had to say:

...No, because I think that its bad for the cohesiveness and the unity of the military units, especially those that are in close combat, that are in close quarters in country right now. Its not the time to do it. I think its - the military is not civilian life. And I think the folks who have been in the military that have been in these very close situations with each other, there has to be a special bond there....I think that the majority of people in the military are they're young kids. They usually have more conservative families, more conservative backgrounds and I think that it would go against their principles and it would frankly make everybody a little bit uneasy to be in these close situations...

So...What you're saying Rep. Hunter is that the military is full of young, little rednecks and bigots?  Or maybe you're saying that straight, gay, bi, and transgender people can't share close bonds?
In the United States we pride ourselves on allowing equal rights for all people, yet here is a congressman who seems to believe that discriminatory policies are OK, who believes that homophobia is a valid "principle" that should be protected.

...Its like if you want to work for NPR, you don't go to work and on the first day say, hey, I want everybody to know that I'm gay.

If I remember correctly, we called this a "straw man" argument in my college debate class. No, there is no reason for a person to parade in to their place of employment with a marching band, wrapped in a feather boah, and carrying balloons and a big "I'm gay" sign, but GLBT people should not have to hide who they are. They should be able to openly refer to their "partners," just as straight men/women talk about their families with their coworkers. 

...You probably don't care one way or the other as long as they, you know, get their particular job done. I think the military is the same way. That's why don't ask, don't tell works...

Ok, I see. It's OK to be gay, just so long as you get your work done and don't tell anyone that you're gay.

(In response to a statement that other countries allow GLBTs to serve openly in the military)...The U.S. is not Canada and were not Great Britain and I would argue that we have a superior military and a much larger military than any other country. Thats why were kind of the world's security force.

GLBTs serve in the military now!!!!! They just aren't allowed to be open about it, and if they do, there are consequneces. Openly gay or not, these men and women who currently have to hide their sexual orientation are some of the very same trained soldiers that make our military "superior."

Do or Die

If you're anything like me, year-after-year, you tell yourself, "THIS YEAR I'll get my act together." "THIS YEAR I'll give up the cookies, cocaine and cigarettes." "THIS YEAR I'll exercise at least three times a week. THIS YEAR.,,,

Totally kidding about the cocaine--no interventions please.

But, let's get real. Intrinsic motiviation only goes so far and cookies are delicious. Grand and lofty goals like "get in shape" and "eat right" are seldom realized, and our "failure" to meet them often leads to self-loathing.

THIS YEAR, I'm trying something different, a little-something called "positive reinforcement." Or maybe it should be called "do or die"--I'm not sure yet.

Instead of making promises to go to the gym or jog each morning, I'm planning an adventure. Specifically, I am making plans to join a guided milt-day hike--maybe The W hike through the Patagonian Andes, or possibly a rim-to-rim Grand Canyon hike--that requires me to be in great shape. If I train sufficiently, the hike will be my reward. And, if I don't, well that's the "die" part. 

The point is, I need to be in better shape. My motivation is not vanity, but health-related. I have mechanical scoliosis, and well-toned, strong muscles are key to keeping my back from curving into an "s." The curvature in my spine is the result of breaking my left femur bone in a car accident when I was just ten years old. Instead of being put into a body cast, I had a metal rod attached with pins to the broken bone. Thanks to the stress caused by the impact of the accident, my femur refused to heal and the rod eventually broke. I had another surgery and a new rod inserted, but that one broke too. For the third surgery, the rod was upgraded from stainless steel to titanium and bone from hip was graphed around the break. During one of these surgeries, the doctors cut through a growth plate, stunting the growth of my left leg. I wear a lift on my left shoe to make up the difference, but to this day my left leg is weaker than the right, making my hips and spine uneven.

A few years ago, during a regular check-up, my doctor suggested I have surgery to lengthen my left leg. I left that appointment in tears, and sought a second opinion from a doctor at the Maryland Spine Center in Baltimore. My new doctor's approach suited me much better; her biggest recommendation was to exercise to keep my back and leg muscles strong. And, for the first year after that appointment, I was a fitness manaic. I took pilates and yoga. I walked everywhere and hiked every weekend.

I'm not sure why or how, but after that first year, my dedication to fitness wore off. Not only have I gained about 15 pounds, but also I feel slow, weak and imbalanced. I've had enough of feeling like a sloth--it's time to act.

Music is life

On the dance floor, the smell of baby powder invades my nostrils and coats the floor creating a smooth surface that allows my feet to glide across it with rhythm and grace.  The pounding bass consumes me, relieving my head of all cognizant thought and the vibration from the speakers makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.  My senses heighten while my consciousness is lost in the flash of pulsating lights against the thin veil of my eyelids.  I feel powerful and alive.

After the breakdown, the beat drops. I stomp into action, letting my feet fall purposefully with the bass. I hop with my right foot to my toes and push off with my left foot. Mid-spin, I catch someone’s eye and for a brief moment, we connect. I do not know if the gaze belongs to a man or woman, a straight or gay person, a white, black, Asian person, and it doesn’t matter. All I can see is the white of his or her teeth. There are few things as reassuring as a smile. We may be different people from different corners of the universe, but in this brief moment, we unite, dancing to the same beat.

If the music stops, I just know the world will cease to spin.

Best of 2009: Shop

Shop. Online or offline, where did you spend most of your money this year?

I have been meaning to write a review of my experiences with IndiDenim an online custom jean shop. Well actually, IndiDenim also has a brick-and-mortar store in California, and they sell not only custom-made jeans for men an women, but also custom men's shirts.

A pair of made-to-fit jeans from IndiDenim runs a steep $150 plus, but can you really put a price on jeans that don't gap at the waist or smash your booty?

The ordering process was made as simple as possible by a very easy-to-use series of order form pages on the IndiDenim site. Despite the written and pictorial instructions, I still had a hard time taking my rise and inseam measurements. I way, way, way over estimate my inseam measurement for the first pair of jeans I ordered--Luckily, they were very easy to exchange, though I did have to eat the extra shipping costs. If you can, I would recommend going to a tailor to have your measurements taken. If not, and you do botch the sizes (like I did) th first time around, at least IndiDenim's return/exchange policy allows for some wiggle room, pun intended.

Anyway...I ordered two pairs of jeans. Designing your own jeans using all of IndiDenims stiching, embelleshing and other design choices is fun, but takes some practice. My first pair of jeans, are a little too mom-jeans for my taste (at no fault of IndiDenim), but my second pair turned out perfectly. They are dresssy enough for casual days at the office, for work happy hours and for family dinners, yet they are super comfortable and stylish.

Though I've only worn and washed my jeans so many times in the few months since I bought them, they seem to be really durable. The fabric is quality and the stitching well-done.

It took a long time to get my new jeans--especially the ones that had to be exchanged, altered, and re-shipped--but no longer than the IndiDenim site indicated.

Also, they save your measurements and designs, so reordering is easy. This will certainly come in handy the next time I order from IndiDenim--and there will be a next time!

I was going to include pictures with this review, you know, of me all bent-over, showing off my no-gap, but then I decided against it.

Transformational

Word or phrase. A word that encapsulates your year. "2009 was _____.

I spent my early teenage years pitted against the world, in some sort of teen-angst filled rebellion. I didn't really know who I was or what I wanted from life, only that I wanted to go against the grain. I died my hair purple, lime green and array of other colors. I wore combat boots, fishnets and pleather skirts. I played bass guitar and talked like "one of the guys." I didn't want to be pretty. I denied my heritage. I quarreled with my mom, snuck out regularly and found myself explaining that "I didn't do it" to the authorities a number of times. That period of my life was about defiance.

Then, from about age 16 to 22, I just wanted to have fun, to love and be loved, to be a grown-up. I worked hard and played hard. My energy was limitless--I could go to class all day, waitress at night and party into the wee hours of the morning, all while keeping a 3.8 average. I didn't know how special a person I was. I trusted people who didn't deserve my trust. I assumed all people were like me, harmless, kind and looking for fun. My trusting nature led me to a lot of frightening situations (like the time I found myself with my hands behind my head at a busted warehouse party, or the time I had to sleep on the beach in Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica), but my outgoing, and admittedly naive, nature also led me to a lot of good times. We'll call these my experimental years.

My mid-20s have been equally as adventurous, only in a different way. In my mid-20s, I became a professional, career woman, I bought my first house, and I started saving and planning for the future. At first, I did not recognize how exciting all this really was. These important steps in my life felt like little more than "doing what I was supposed to be doing. I found the humdrum of the 9-5, mature-and-responsible-adult life to be completely depressing, and I longed for my days backpacking through Latin America. I spent most of my mid-20s overwhelmed with the contradictions in my life.

In 2010, I will officially be in my late-20s. For me, 2009 has been a year for transition, for change, both tangible and emotional. Maybe that's what happens when you hit your late 20s. Or, maybe it's just a coincidence, but whatever the case, the word that best describes my 2009 is transformational.

I took a life-altering trip to Israel.

I got in touch with my geeky side and started a new career as a web content manager. I've already launched three web sites since taking the job! Designing and developing for the Web is a fun, new challenge new challenge for me. I have to admit; I've enjoyed poring over code and learning new programming languages. I'm (not so) secretly a big geek like that.

Jack graduated college and started a career as a teacher. It's wonderful to both have interesting, respectable, secure jobs and to be on the same schedule.

New people I'd met when I first moved into the new house have turned into real friends. I have regular hang-outs, where I see people I know and who know me. I can tell you where to get the best breakfast, the best chicken, the best Greek food, and the best canolis...or is "canoli" both singular and plural? Anyway.... I've gotten used to making small talk with strangers (damn southern kindness) and learned to stop for yellow. Baltimore has become more than the place I live, it's my home.

We demolished our basement (we're still working on rebuilding :), installed new handles on our kitchen cabinets, built a raised flower bed and installed a rain barrel, and I spent more money than I had ever spent at one time (well, except the down payment on the house) when I replaced my heating system.

And, I made a five-year plan and started saving for retirement. It doesn't get more adult than that.

This past year, my outlook has begun to change, and I actually find that being an "adult" is fun. I love that I can dress up in a suit and be a professional for 40 hours a week, yet on the weekends, I can still strap on my sneakers, slab glitter on my eyelids and dance the night away. I know where I want to be in five, ten, fifteen years. I've gotten much better at reading people. I enjoy working on my house, and I find satisfaction in my career choice. I appreciate my home, my job, my man, and my family. I am confident in the decisions I've made and my plan for the future.

Here's to an equally fantastic 2010--Salud! Cheers! L'chiam!

Best of 2009: Tea

Tea of the year. I can taste my favorite tea right now. What's yours?

Tea? TEA? Tea is for sissies and British people....Just kidding. I love a good maté or a nice Chai with milk from time to time, but my heart belongs to coffee. I like it like I like my men, strong and dark with a little bite.

Best of 2009: Packaging

Best Packaging. Did your headphones come in a sweet case? See a bottle of tea in another country that stood off the shelves?

I have not bought a singe gift bag, not one roll of wrapping paper, nor even just one gift bow in all my adult years.
Instead of wasting my hard-earned cash on frivolous shiny wrapping that is quickly discarded, I use recycled materials to wrap gifts.
When someone gives me a gift, I carefully open it in order to preserve the paper. Even small pieces can be reused to turn a plain paper bag into a festive, collage-style gift bag. Glitter, glue, stamps, paint and even pompoms and pipe cleaners, can be added to the blank side of cut and flattened brown paper bags to create one-of-a-kind wrapping paper.
Salvaged ribbons and bows make perfect recycled gift wrapping accessories, as do old buttons and lace from long retired linens.
Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

Best of 2009: Rush

I'm jumping on the best of 2009 blog challenge bandwagon...Today's prompt is Rush. When did you get your best rush of the year?



Exhilarating,
Amazing,
Awe-inspiring.

The moments that make us feel truly alive
can not be trapped on film
or reduced to nouns and verbs.

I can tell you that my month-long trip to Israel was a life-changing experience.

I can show you photos of the sun rising over the Dead Sea,
the rays of light beaming from the sun,
divine.

I can describe for you what it feels like to bathe in the Red Sea
and to have a magnificent bottle-nose dolphin swim just two inches beneath your body,
with the stregnth of it's tail forcing currents around your body.

I can tell you how the Western Wall feels on your fingertips,
smooth and cool to the touch,
magical.

But I can't accurately portray what it feels like to walk the Snake Path,
to take that last step up from the ancient, eroding stairs to reach the top of Masada,
as so many have done before you.

I can't show you a picture of the sea sensations that invaded my senses,
the brilliant array of color and movement beneath the surface,
the shrill dolphin sounds penetrating my eardrums,
the taste of the salt on my lips when I came up for air.

And, a photograph can not capture the contradictions of time
realized standing in front of a seemingly indestructible
structure built thousands of years ago,
the transience of my own meager existence,
my lineage, a long line of history and tradition,
Continuation.

Happy Hanukkah!

-- Post From My iPhone

Day 2

This is my second day as a non-smoker.

I won't lie--It sucks.

I like smoking. I enjoy pulling the hot smoke into my lungs, gently taping the cigarette to keep the ashes from falling...ahhh, memories. My brain is split in two. There's a big part of me that says, "yeah, I know smoking is bad for me, but who cares? I will die eventually one way or another. Is lung cancer really that bad."

Yes, lung cancer is that bad. I watched my grandmother wither away to nothing in a hospital bed while cancerous cells devoured her lung tissue and eventually took her life.

I have been lying about my new-found smoking habit to my family and co-workers. I had to either come clean about smoking or give it up. I chose to give it up. I'm angry and annoyed. I just want a cookie, no, make that lots of cookies. I'm irritated. I can't keep my thoughts straight, much less write a coherent blog post.

On Paris...

A lot of people say that Paris is the most beautiful city on earth. It certainly is an amazing place--a bustling metropolis of phenomenal architecture, bright lights, sweeping views and a seemingly endless array of art. Paris certainly reflects the wonder and beauty of man's creativity, craft and imagination, but I have to say, I still think La Paz, Bolivia is the most beautiful city I've ever seen. It's set way up high in the Andes Mountains, with the central part of the city at the bottom of a sort of natural bowl lined with small, simple houses that blend perfectly with the color of the arid land backdrop. But I digress...

Our hotel in Paris was in what Parisians refer to as the bad part of town. We stayed at a very basic hotel on the Avenue de Clichy, three metro stops north of Place de Clichy, where the lights of Moulin Rogue sparkle brightly (not to mention the neon glare from the signs of the numerous sex shops and strip clubs).

 

If that Parisian neighborhood is bad, then Baltimore is a fucking war zone. The area was home to a mostly Arabic-speaking population (and a lot of kebab stands), and the French don't make it any secret how they feel about Muslims. I felt perfectly comfortable where we stayed--it was like being in Queens or Brooklyn or something.

French people have a reputation for being rude and hating United Statesians, but I found the complete opposite. (I hate using the term *American* for people from the US -- the term shows the self centeredness of our culture. But, again, I digress...) Parisians are like New Yorkers, they have a seemingly rough exterior but are really some of the friendliest people I've ever met.

We spent Thanksgiving day wandering the winding streets of Montmarte and exploring Espacio Dali and the Musee de Erotocismo. Our Thanksgiving meal consisted of cheeses, fresh baguettes, fruit and wine from the grocery store. A decent bottle of wine cost just 2.50 euros.

My travel partner and I are recently reacquainted friends--I've told you about her here before. In the years that have passed since our days as close friends and roommates, a lot has changed, or maybe nothing has changed. Maybe we were always very different people who were simply brought together by circumstance. I'm not sure it really matters. We had a great time together in Paris, and though are relationship will probably never be what it once was, I see more shared good times in out future.

Champ-Eleysee, arguably the most famous street in all of Paris, was lined with blue and white lights and vendor stalls selling mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, crepes, fine chocolates and more. From the Arc du Triomph, the view of this winter wonderland was enough to take my breathe away.

The museums in Paris put the ones in our country to shame. In addition to the Espacio Dali, we went to the Musee Rodin, Musee D'Orsay and the Louvre. It was amazing to stand before masterpieces by Vangough, Monet, Da Vinci, Matisse, Rodin..close enough to appreciate every brushstroke.

 

We spent an entire day at Versailles--once home to Marie Antoinette and King Louis XIV. The gold, the grandeur, I could barely wrap my mind around the idea of people living with that kind of wealth.

We met my Mom and her friend, who happened to also be visiting Paris, met for a fantastic meal at a fine dining restaurant. We had roast duck with a cherry sauce, escargot in a basil sauce, creamy goat cheese wrapped in puff pastry, rabbit in a delicate mushroom sauce, poached pears and a lovely bottle of Bordeaux.

Ahhh...Paris.

-- Post From My iPhone

J'adore Paris!

 

 

Posting pictures using Blogger is a pain.

You can see more of my Paris pics on Flickr.

Guilt

I'm no poet, but when emotions are swirling through my mind and my head is crowded with thoughts, poetry provides an amazing release. I sit down and write a poem probably once or twice a year, but this was the first time that I'd ever shared any of my work.

Poetry allows a writer to express and explore raw feelings. No reasons. No stories. Pure emotion.

Our emotions are what unifies us as people. Regardless of their race, ethnicity, religion, sex, social status, sexual orientation, intelligence, education--everyone experiences love, happiness, passion, ecstasy, fear, nervousness, sorrow, pain and suffering. The words to describe these emotions, the causes that evoke them and the way a person deals with his/her emotions may differ from culture to culture and person to person, but everyone feels.


The holiday season always sends my emotions into over-drive, but as I grow older, the resentment, anger and sadness I am used to feeling time of year has given way to a much more powerful emotion, guilt.

My parents separated when I was just two-years-old. I have just one single memory of their brief time together. I was sitting at the top of our chocolate-brown carpeted steps, watching my parents through the wooden rungs of the banister, with my knees tucked into my chest and arms wrapped around my shins. I could hear yelling, the sound of glass breaking, and then I saw blood. Or, at least what I thought was blood. Turns out my father, in a fit of immaturity, had doused my mom with Heinz 57. 

After my parents divorced, I lived a dual life. My mother and father shared dual custody. I had two very, very, very different families. My mom's house was the type of house that children should grow up in. In her house, I was encouraged, disciplined, loved and cared for. I wouldn't say I was spoiled, but I sure never went hungry.

At my father's house my life couldn't have been more different. He remarried three times, twice to the same woman (who he apparently just recently divorced again). With his wives came step-siblings for me, and with their inevitable divorces I would once again become an only child. He introduced me to the dark-side of life--to motorcycle gangs, a plethora of drugs, over-doses, criminal life and jail. By twelve years old, there wasn't a drug I hadn't seen done, and by the time I was sixteen, there wasn't one I hadn't tried myself. He was too fucked up to see anything wrong with doing hard drugs with his pre-teen daughter. He was too fucked up to remember to buy groceries. He was too fucked up to keep his promises and too far gone to love me.

Throughout my childhood, I bounced back and forth between these two worlds. Sometimes I would get tired of being hurt, and I would swear-off my father, his home and lifestyle. I would stay with my mom and wait for him to call. He never called.

His parents, my grandparents, used every Thanksgiving as an excuse to force my father and I together. He would make empty promises that things would be better if I came back...he wouldn't talk down to me anymore...I could have a kitten...There would be no more fighting...no more drugs.

Every year, I believed him. And, every year I was let down. My anger, resentment and sadness grew until is consumed me. I hated him and everything that made me think of him, including the holidays.

Now, I find myself consumed by a new emotion, guilt. I am no longer angry at my father. I feel sorry for him. He is financially ruined and in poor physical and mental health thanks to the bad decisions he's made throughout his life. I haven't spoken to him in a couple of years now. It hurts to much. Hearing his distant and faded "junkie" voice repeat the same things over and over, makes me sick to my stomach. The last time I stepped foot in his house, I literally threw-up. The last time I spoke to him on the phone, he blamed me for our failed relationship. I guess he has to lie to himself to live with himself.

I feel bad that I'm not strong enough to look past the past. I feel guilty that I don't try to have a relationship with my father. I feel horrible that I know he won't live much longer and that doesn't make me want to reconnect with him. I feel selfish because of my need for self-preservation. I feel frigid because I'm not sure I have any love left for the man who calls me his daughter. All of these emotions combine together to create a guilty feeling that eats away at my soul.

PS - Thanks to all of you who left comments on my poem. Your insights and support inspired me to write this post. Writing helps me understand and cope with my thoughts, and hearing from all of you reminds me that I'm not alone in my experiences. Thank you!

Sometimes I wish I wore a suit of armor,
Shiny, metallic,
Impenetrable.
A suit of armor to protect me against the weight world,
To keep me from feeling.
To keep me from caring.
A suit of armor,
Cold, smooth,
Indescructible.

New Look

Priorities. Traveling and entertainment are the top two on my list. I spend a good portion of my disposable income on boozing, eating out and trips abroad. It's great. Except, when all your money is tied up in fun, there's none left over for new clothes. Besides, who wants to spend money on something boring like clothes? Even if I do "shop," I'd rather buy art. Or shoes. I do love shoes.

Why am I telling you this? Well, this weekend I went clothes shopping for the first time since February. This was no ordinary shopping, but EXTREME shopping. I was at the mall (actually two malls) for a total of eight hours this weekend. The first day, it took me two-and-a-half hours to make my first puirchase--a pair of black suede, slouchy boots for $35. Two hours later, I had bought a dress and a skinny belt. Four-and-a-half hours, three purchases and $75 spent. I seriously suck at shopping.

Does anyone else see some major similarities between malls and casinos? No natural light, over-stimulation, people mulling about with glazed looks, people spending money they don't have....

So back to my new boots. If you know me in "real" life, you know that I spend most of my time in sneakers. Super-cute, bold, colorful sneakers, but sneakers nonetheless. This whole boots, dresses and tights thing is new for me. It's kind of like playing dress up. Today, as I walked with my new boots through the three metro stations that I traverse on my daily commute, I felt like strutting. New shoes seem to have a direct impact on a girl's self-esteem--someone should do a study. My feminist side just died a little with that last statement.

My cat Papi seemed less thrilled with my new look. When I put my boots on this morning and stood up from the chair, he hopped back, his tail puffed and his eyes widened. He kept wanting to come closer to scope out my new attire, but when he got too close for comfort he would leap away dramatically with the hair on his tail standing on edge, like he had stuck his little paw in a light socket.

Why did I tell you this pointless story? I don't know, these boots are making me fiesty. I completely understand if you never read my blog again.

Random Dozen

Random Dozen:
If you play along, let me know so I can come see how you answered.

1.Candy corn: Your thoughts?
The brown bottoms are superior to the white bottoms.

2. Briefly, what was the first conversation you ever had with your spouse? (or best friend, if you're not married.) (Or someone significant, like your librarian.)
When Jack and I first met, I was 16 years old and at a party at my boyfriend-at-that-time's house. The "dreaded ex" as we'll call him, was proving to me that you could sit in your chair all night and never have to get up. We spent the night shouting orders for fresh beers and entertainment from our chair. When we tried it with Jack, he was totally on to our bullshit and giving orders right back. From then on, whenever Jack and I saw each other there was a lot of ball breaking going on. 

We have been dating for going on six years now, and we still joke and break balls just like we did back then.

3. Could you ever become a vegetarian?
I grew up "pescatarian," meaning the only "meat" I ate was seafood. I didn't enjoy a steak until I was 16 years old. I still rarely eat red meat, but when I do, I like it bloody!

4. Have you ever dressed up your pet in a costume?
No. No. NO! Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that my cat Papi sports a rhinestone studded collar and my cat Pie (aka Puss Cat) rocks a red studded one.

5. Name something about childhood that you miss (like Clark Bars, Tea berry Gum, Malibu Barbie, cracking fake eggs on people's heads with your fist and "It's the Great Pumpkin" airing only once a year).
What I miss most about my childhood is being able to spend my entire weekend playing--splashing in puddles, riding bikes and tromping through the woods has given way to running errands, cleaning the house and other boring adult things. Sigh.

6. Have you ever won a trophy? If not, what do you deserve a trophy for?
Pimp of the Year bitches! I have the trophy to prove it.

7. When do you think is the appropriate time to begin playing Christmas music each year?
After Thanksgiving--I find it really annoying that stores in my city already have Christmas displays up, and it's not even Halloween yet. I'm not just saying this because I'm Jewish...

8. What is your favorite board game?
Does Yahtzee count as a board game? Probably not since there's no board.

9. How do you feel about surprises (receiving, not giving)?
Being pleasantly surprised is nice, but I hate when someone says, "I have a surprise for you," and won't tell me what it is. Jack gets me like that all the time, because he knows it drives me nuts.

10. Is it easy for you to say "I'm sorry?"
Yes, but only if I'm actually sorry. No insincere apologies. When I'm right, I'm right. I won't apologize for that.

11. What is your favorite candle scent?
Lavender

12. October is traditionally "open house" time in public schools. If you had a literal open house in your home (like a reception) what light snacks would you serve visitors and what would you show them (as in art projects, graded papers) that would uniquely represent you?
I would serve Belgian beers, robust red wines and a sampling of my favorite fruits and cheeses. (I'm classy like that.) I would show the art I've collected during my travels--I only decorate my house in original art--and my rocks and gems collection. For music, I would play some deep, soulful house music--maybe my new(ish) Terry Thompson CD.