“This is what the LORD says— he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:16, 18-19
Amazing how one's world can shift in 365 days. Blessed to have breath and life in all of them since none are guaranteed. I am constantly enlightened by the changes that occur naturally and with the flow just by time, effort, and circumstance.
The Beacon Theater in New York City runs its last sound check on audio boards for another epic show while I type these words in front of a roaring North Carolina fire. Then, aflame with a bourbon buzz and ganja stashed in my boots, I swayed in the sounds of Gov't Mule, shoulder to shoulder with faithful jammers who too sought a peak experience, as we sang goodbye to the crazy year and fuzzy memories past.
Tonight, a soothing silence takes center stage. A rhythmic and sometimes painful beating from within takes my attention and affection and makes chasing down the champagne dream an afterthought. Gratefulness reigns supreme. And celebrating the closing of 2012 with a frozen pizza and a hot bubble bath hits me with a surprisingly, fist pumping excitement as I look forward to what and who the new year will bring.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Feed Me Seymour
"The appetite of laborers works for them; their hunger drives them on." Proverbs 16:26
Trader Joe's Wilmington is open.
1600 Applicants.
89 Team Members Hired.
This is the bleak job landscape of our new town.
Just one surprise you contend with when you leap without looking...
Could be worse I reckon, I could have such depleted funds that the ability to shop at such a grocery store to obtain this startling information would not exist. Thank you Lord for that and frozen veggie dumplings. (Since my desire to have Thai Food delivered in twenty minutes and on a shoestring can't be fulfilled at my new address. Sigh.)
In the last eight months with my voracious appetite as a constant companion, I have been skimming my rolodex of the ghosts of employers past. And it turns out, the last four of them have fed me, and well. An NFL commissary with enough carbohydrates and fats to feed the incorrigible linebackers, 53 others on the roster, coaches, and me. A private school with in house chefs doling out a hot tray lunch (my all time fave), an extensive salad bar, and daily soups. A boutique designer who handed me a pile of Upper West Side Restaurant menus morning, noon, and often late nights with her black AMEX and said "order enough." To Law and Order SVU catering that supplied me with three more than square meals per six days a week.
This perk easily adjusted to does not go unnoticed when I'm staring at an empty cupboard once again.
Now, desperate times calls for desperate measures and I flashback to the early days of New York when my ever binging, constant spending, over botoxing, on and off dieting roommate would throw a half eaten Lombardi's pepperoni pizza in the trash and I'd swoop in and get it before it went to the incinerator. Or when the day old bread basket from a Midtown bakery would make the rounds at Barney's cosmetic counter and every waif turned up her powdered nose, I was glad to stuff Rugelah in my mouth with rapid fire. But I digress down memory lane.
My check card still works, the nest egg remains barely feathered, but I'm getting back into practice for all unseen preparedness. By sweeping the produce and dairy section at Whole Foods, I can get my fill of navel oranges, holiday grapes, and aged Gruyere one ounce cube at a time. By trolling Harris Teeter's deli, baked baguette and Irish butter are plentiful, while the counter crew is always glad to give samples of cold cuts and fried chicken, especially to the pregnant girl who seems to have nowhere else to spend her days...This is living.
I look to the words of a fellow wanderer Jack Dawson when he said, "I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you... to make each day count."
Trader Joe's Wilmington is open.
1600 Applicants.
89 Team Members Hired.
This is the bleak job landscape of our new town.
Just one surprise you contend with when you leap without looking...
Could be worse I reckon, I could have such depleted funds that the ability to shop at such a grocery store to obtain this startling information would not exist. Thank you Lord for that and frozen veggie dumplings. (Since my desire to have Thai Food delivered in twenty minutes and on a shoestring can't be fulfilled at my new address. Sigh.)
In the last eight months with my voracious appetite as a constant companion, I have been skimming my rolodex of the ghosts of employers past. And it turns out, the last four of them have fed me, and well. An NFL commissary with enough carbohydrates and fats to feed the incorrigible linebackers, 53 others on the roster, coaches, and me. A private school with in house chefs doling out a hot tray lunch (my all time fave), an extensive salad bar, and daily soups. A boutique designer who handed me a pile of Upper West Side Restaurant menus morning, noon, and often late nights with her black AMEX and said "order enough." To Law and Order SVU catering that supplied me with three more than square meals per six days a week.
This perk easily adjusted to does not go unnoticed when I'm staring at an empty cupboard once again.
Now, desperate times calls for desperate measures and I flashback to the early days of New York when my ever binging, constant spending, over botoxing, on and off dieting roommate would throw a half eaten Lombardi's pepperoni pizza in the trash and I'd swoop in and get it before it went to the incinerator. Or when the day old bread basket from a Midtown bakery would make the rounds at Barney's cosmetic counter and every waif turned up her powdered nose, I was glad to stuff Rugelah in my mouth with rapid fire. But I digress down memory lane.
My check card still works, the nest egg remains barely feathered, but I'm getting back into practice for all unseen preparedness. By sweeping the produce and dairy section at Whole Foods, I can get my fill of navel oranges, holiday grapes, and aged Gruyere one ounce cube at a time. By trolling Harris Teeter's deli, baked baguette and Irish butter are plentiful, while the counter crew is always glad to give samples of cold cuts and fried chicken, especially to the pregnant girl who seems to have nowhere else to spend her days...This is living.
I look to the words of a fellow wanderer Jack Dawson when he said, "I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you... to make each day count."
Let's just hope, I don't go down with the ship.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
*Grateful
If pregnancy were a book, they would cut the last two chapters ~Nora Ephron
Pregnancy is not pretty. In fact, it is a pain in the ass. Literally. Having multiple bleeding balloons on one's butt hole does not translate into the miracle of life. I don't slip on my wool slippers and heave my pulsating pelvic bone to draw a bath at three in the morning and marvel at the joy of being with child. Hanging my head in my hands and weeping because the pressure on my diaphragm is so intense, it has pushed the last tablespoon of peanut butter I ate back into the back of my throat is not a taste to be relished or celebrated. Quite simply, I am not myself. And the worst part about it is, others around you think you are still that able body in control of emotions, bladder, and all life sustaining matters person. This selfish idea results in their needs being unmet and you finding another insensitive appendage in your life you had once mistaken as a relationship. Now, the cheerleaders will chant, "you will forget once you hold that baby." This sentimental adage may be true and I look fondly toward the fast forwarded ten weeks of meeting that glorious creation. But today, I'm living in the present with pillows wedged in every crease and a plea for sleep on my lips, screaming at the members of the labor club who didn't tell us newbies, this is hard.
Pregnancy is not pretty. In fact, it is a pain in the ass. Literally. Having multiple bleeding balloons on one's butt hole does not translate into the miracle of life. I don't slip on my wool slippers and heave my pulsating pelvic bone to draw a bath at three in the morning and marvel at the joy of being with child. Hanging my head in my hands and weeping because the pressure on my diaphragm is so intense, it has pushed the last tablespoon of peanut butter I ate back into the back of my throat is not a taste to be relished or celebrated. Quite simply, I am not myself. And the worst part about it is, others around you think you are still that able body in control of emotions, bladder, and all life sustaining matters person. This selfish idea results in their needs being unmet and you finding another insensitive appendage in your life you had once mistaken as a relationship. Now, the cheerleaders will chant, "you will forget once you hold that baby." This sentimental adage may be true and I look fondly toward the fast forwarded ten weeks of meeting that glorious creation. But today, I'm living in the present with pillows wedged in every crease and a plea for sleep on my lips, screaming at the members of the labor club who didn't tell us newbies, this is hard.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Points of Interest
"But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you." Psalm 5:11
Another break in on our street. Apparently, it's just "what happens" this time of year.
The Wilmington Gun and Knife Show can't come quick enough.
One guess as to what I can find under my tree, wrapped with care.
***
Oh Worry.
I confessed to my new Mom's Bible Study that I'm so glad that my resistance to trust in the Lord and His word is not as strong as his relentless pursuit to love and cover me continually.
How deep my Father's love for me. How vast beyond all measure.
That He should send His only Son. And make a wretch His treasure.
These song lyrics are the words I can rest on or give as an answer the next time someone asks me the most asinine question of "Am I ready for the holidays?"
The upside of being back in the South: God and Guns.
Another break in on our street. Apparently, it's just "what happens" this time of year.
The Wilmington Gun and Knife Show can't come quick enough.
One guess as to what I can find under my tree, wrapped with care.
***
Oh Worry.
I confessed to my new Mom's Bible Study that I'm so glad that my resistance to trust in the Lord and His word is not as strong as his relentless pursuit to love and cover me continually.
How deep my Father's love for me. How vast beyond all measure.
That He should send His only Son. And make a wretch His treasure.
These song lyrics are the words I can rest on or give as an answer the next time someone asks me the most asinine question of "Am I ready for the holidays?"
The upside of being back in the South: God and Guns.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
A Vagabond's Heart
"Nevertheless, each person should live as a believer in whatever situation the Lord has assigned to them, just as God has called them." 1 Corinthians 7:17
Making a human should have been enough. As if this possession of the body and mind I once knew doesn't have enough power to throw me into an altered loop and leave me on my heavily weighted hands and knees.
Leaving New York should have been enough. Despite my continuous cursing and whimpering spelled out on the blog, it was the only place I have instantly felt at home and in sync. I miss it. And I walk the familiar streets in my head with a longing of thankfulness and second thoughts.
Quitting my job should have been enough. While I may have stumbled into Shangri La for housewives, I feel useless. For the first time in my adult life, I can't affiliate my character with my daily agenda. A misnomer I admit, but the lack of production and a replenishing bank account is demoralizing, no matter what psychological color you paint it.
I haven't stopped thinking. I've ceased thinking provocatively. My daily musings are kept in check by lack of inspiration and make their way onto a page only when provoked by anger. Anger towards a world that often unfolds the opposite way I'm working.
This resistance makes me restless. And subsequently a recluse.
Making a human should have been enough. As if this possession of the body and mind I once knew doesn't have enough power to throw me into an altered loop and leave me on my heavily weighted hands and knees.
Leaving New York should have been enough. Despite my continuous cursing and whimpering spelled out on the blog, it was the only place I have instantly felt at home and in sync. I miss it. And I walk the familiar streets in my head with a longing of thankfulness and second thoughts.
Quitting my job should have been enough. While I may have stumbled into Shangri La for housewives, I feel useless. For the first time in my adult life, I can't affiliate my character with my daily agenda. A misnomer I admit, but the lack of production and a replenishing bank account is demoralizing, no matter what psychological color you paint it.
I haven't stopped thinking. I've ceased thinking provocatively. My daily musings are kept in check by lack of inspiration and make their way onto a page only when provoked by anger. Anger towards a world that often unfolds the opposite way I'm working.
This resistance makes me restless. And subsequently a recluse.
I'm all for quenching wanderlust, but my knapsack is the heaviest it's ever been and I'm looking to lighten my load.
Is it doubt or change that's the heaviest burden in life?
All my frozen words agree and say it's time to all back all the birds I sent to
Fly behind her castle walls, and I'm weary of the nights I've seen
Inside these empty walls.
Fly behind her castle walls, and I'm weary of the nights I've seen
Inside these empty walls.
~Birds of St. Marks
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Searching For Sufficiency
"Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God." John 1:12
I document this picture for one sound reason.
It demonstrates the Look of Productivity.
Not in my belly.
But in my twinkling eyes, my knowing smile, and the confidence in the early hour and the day laid out before me.
This week I worked a fashion photo shoot in a gorgeous Antebellum home of a legendary casting agent.(Shout out to Roadhouse and the captivating Dalton.) And I felt the pull of purpose I haven't felt in a while. A mindset that is outward. And at times, unhealthy.
In my earthly world, I realized I have defined myself by my work for 15 years and without it, my life is lacking in modifiers and sometimes meaning.
Can the role of Mama really trump them all?
I document this picture for one sound reason.
It demonstrates the Look of Productivity.
Not in my belly.
But in my twinkling eyes, my knowing smile, and the confidence in the early hour and the day laid out before me.
This week I worked a fashion photo shoot in a gorgeous Antebellum home of a legendary casting agent.(Shout out to Roadhouse and the captivating Dalton.) And I felt the pull of purpose I haven't felt in a while. A mindset that is outward. And at times, unhealthy.
In my earthly world, I realized I have defined myself by my work for 15 years and without it, my life is lacking in modifiers and sometimes meaning.
Can the role of Mama really trump them all?
Sunday, November 18, 2012
My Miraculous Mediocrity
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:14
It has taken this long to crawl out of my hole of solitude with wounds significantly licked and adequately mended.
Ernest Hemingway said when one is having trouble writing, write the truest sentence one knows.
The above statement is factual. The first Tuesday of November did send my exerted full sails into irons. But it's not the truest sentence I know.
Another truth is I don't like my desk position. I look into a sheet of vanilla curtains. Curtains that are drawn but beyond them my conscious mind knows looms a tradition brick ranch house filled with pale faces of a young growing family.
Where once I perched over the wilder side of the United Nations on skateboards and speed Street, writing narcissisticly seemed appropriate for the scenery. My observation of the politics of experience was relevant and noteworthy.
Now I listen to the songs of courting Cardinals under a live oak in my wool socks with a bulging belly and question the novelty in that image. Are my encounters with a kicking two pounder in my uterus uniquely profound or is it mundane minutiae not worth mentioning to an audience that has felt the flutters of another viable being?
These are the thoughts I chastise myself with as I try to find the ideal position to place my pulled pelvis on my overworked heating pad. Will I let my stereotype of small town America significance serve me in one aspect yet rob me in another?
I write about my life because this life is short. Not glamorous or abstruse. Just short. And solely mine.
Did I mention I'm having a baby in three short months?
It has taken this long to crawl out of my hole of solitude with wounds significantly licked and adequately mended.
Ernest Hemingway said when one is having trouble writing, write the truest sentence one knows.
The above statement is factual. The first Tuesday of November did send my exerted full sails into irons. But it's not the truest sentence I know.
Another truth is I don't like my desk position. I look into a sheet of vanilla curtains. Curtains that are drawn but beyond them my conscious mind knows looms a tradition brick ranch house filled with pale faces of a young growing family.
Where once I perched over the wilder side of the United Nations on skateboards and speed Street, writing narcissisticly seemed appropriate for the scenery. My observation of the politics of experience was relevant and noteworthy.
Now I listen to the songs of courting Cardinals under a live oak in my wool socks with a bulging belly and question the novelty in that image. Are my encounters with a kicking two pounder in my uterus uniquely profound or is it mundane minutiae not worth mentioning to an audience that has felt the flutters of another viable being?
These are the thoughts I chastise myself with as I try to find the ideal position to place my pulled pelvis on my overworked heating pad. Will I let my stereotype of small town America significance serve me in one aspect yet rob me in another?
I write about my life because this life is short. Not glamorous or abstruse. Just short. And solely mine.
Did I mention I'm having a baby in three short months?
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
His Final Stand
"I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.” 1 Timothy 2:1-2
I am sorry for Mitt Romney, but mostly I am sorry the American people will never know where his leadership could have taken us.
Monday, November 5, 2012
I Cast Mine In Order To Catch Truth
"Freedom is not the right to do what we want, but what we ought. Let us have faith that right makes might and in that faith let us; to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it." Abraham Lincoln
Tomorrow I will vote not for what feels right for me....but with discernment for what glorifies God and his purposes. For... We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America....is from men who were created in His holy and just image.
Election Eve...
Tomorrow is not about turning our carnal individual right into partisan demands. Tomorrow is about voting the Truth. The truth of our conscience and convictions. Freedom can only be found through the righteousness of God, the only true governing authority. And like freedom, authority can ONLY be granted by God.
Despite what many of us think about our own superiority or self righteousness, We The People are not strong or savvy enough to do it on our own. We succumb to sin. We fall prey to our "feelings." Our earthly wants.
This country is divided. Violently split down our emotional centers. The stewardship we've been granted isn't governed by God anymore but lost to the one's who lick their fingers, place them in the air, and see which way the wind blows.
Leaning on humanity's wisdom is like building your house on sand...it sinks.
Tomorrow and forevermore, I will build my house on the rock solid foundation of Truth. That Jesus Christ is the Lord of Lords and the King of Kings, my Redeemer, and my Living Water. The only thing that sustains.
God Bless us.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Will There Be Rest For The Weary?
"I'm 74 and I'm Tired"
I'm 74. Except for a brief period in the 50's when I was doing my National Service, I've worked hard since I was 17. Except for some serious health challenges, I put in 50-hour weeks, and didn't call in sick in nearly 40 years. I made a reasonable salary, but I didn't inherit my job or my income, and I worked to get where I am. Given the economy, it looks as though retirement was a bad idea, and I'm tired.
I'm 74. Except for a brief period in the 50's when I was doing my National Service, I've worked hard since I was 17. Except for some serious health challenges, I put in 50-hour weeks, and didn't call in sick in nearly 40 years. I made a reasonable salary, but I didn't inherit my job or my income, and I worked to get where I am. Given the economy, it looks as though retirement was a bad idea, and I'm tired.
Very tired.
I'm tired of being told that I have to "spread the wealth" to people who don't have my work ethic. I'm tired of being told the government will take the money I earned, by force if necessary, and give it to people too lazy to earn it.
I'm tired of being told that Islam is a "Religion of Peace," when every day I can read dozens of stories of Muslim men killing their sisters, wives and daughters for their family "honor"; of Muslims rioting over some slight offense; of Muslims murdering Christian and Jews because they aren't "believers"; of Muslims burning schools for girls; of Muslims stoning teenage rape victims to death for "adultery"; of Muslims mutilating the genitals of little girls; all in the name of Allah, because the Qur'an and Shari'a law tells them to.
I'm tired of being told that out of "tolerance for other cultures" we must let Saudi Arabia and other Arab countries use our oil money to fund mosques and madrassa Islamic schools to preach hate in Australia, New Zealand , UK, America and Canada, while no one from these countries are allowed to fund a church, synagogue or religious school in Saudi Arabia or any other Arab country to teach love and tolerance..
I'm tired of being told I must lower my living standard to fight global warming, which no one is allowed to debate.
I'm tired of being told that drug addicts have a disease, and I must help support and treat them, and pay for the damage they do. Did a giant germ rush out of a dark alley, grab them, and stuff white powder up their noses or stick a needle in their arm while they tried to fight it off?
I'm tired of hearing wealthy athletes, entertainers and politicians of all parties talking about innocent mistakes, stupid mistakes or youthful mistakes, when we all know they think their only mistake was getting caught. I'm tired of people with a sense of entitlement, rich or poor.
I'm really tired of people who don't take responsibility for their lives and actions. I'm tired of hearing them blame the government, or discrimination or big-whatever for their problems.
I'm also tired and fed up with seeing young men and women in their teens and early 20's be-deck them selves in tattoos and face studs, thereby making themselves un-employable and claiming money from the Government.
Yes, I'm damn tired. But I'm also glad to be 74. Because, mostly, I'm not going to have to see the world these people are making. I'm just sorry for my granddaughter and her children. Thank God I'm on the way out and not on the way in.
-BILL COSBY
I'm tired of being told that I have to "spread the wealth" to people who don't have my work ethic. I'm tired of being told the government will take the money I earned, by force if necessary, and give it to people too lazy to earn it.
I'm tired of being told that Islam is a "Religion of Peace," when every day I can read dozens of stories of Muslim men killing their sisters, wives and daughters for their family "honor"; of Muslims rioting over some slight offense; of Muslims murdering Christian and Jews because they aren't "believers"; of Muslims burning schools for girls; of Muslims stoning teenage rape victims to death for "adultery"; of Muslims mutilating the genitals of little girls; all in the name of Allah, because the Qur'an and Shari'a law tells them to.
I'm tired of being told that out of "tolerance for other cultures" we must let Saudi Arabia and other Arab countries use our oil money to fund mosques and madrassa Islamic schools to preach hate in Australia, New Zealand , UK, America and Canada, while no one from these countries are allowed to fund a church, synagogue or religious school in Saudi Arabia or any other Arab country to teach love and tolerance..
I'm tired of being told I must lower my living standard to fight global warming, which no one is allowed to debate.
I'm tired of being told that drug addicts have a disease, and I must help support and treat them, and pay for the damage they do. Did a giant germ rush out of a dark alley, grab them, and stuff white powder up their noses or stick a needle in their arm while they tried to fight it off?
I'm tired of hearing wealthy athletes, entertainers and politicians of all parties talking about innocent mistakes, stupid mistakes or youthful mistakes, when we all know they think their only mistake was getting caught. I'm tired of people with a sense of entitlement, rich or poor.
I'm really tired of people who don't take responsibility for their lives and actions. I'm tired of hearing them blame the government, or discrimination or big-whatever for their problems.
I'm also tired and fed up with seeing young men and women in their teens and early 20's be-deck them selves in tattoos and face studs, thereby making themselves un-employable and claiming money from the Government.
Yes, I'm damn tired. But I'm also glad to be 74. Because, mostly, I'm not going to have to see the world these people are making. I'm just sorry for my granddaughter and her children. Thank God I'm on the way out and not on the way in.
-BILL COSBY
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
My Old Hood, My Old Resilient Home
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
Lord Jesus, Lift up all of the people who are suffering in the face of this death and destruction and send them Your peace that passes all understanding.
I'm sorry New York.
courtesy of Joe. My. God.
Lord Jesus, Lift up all of the people who are suffering in the face of this death and destruction and send them Your peace that passes all understanding.
I'm sorry New York.
courtesy of Joe. My. God.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Mrs. Sunshine
"A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit. The discerning heart seeks knowledge but the mouth of a fool feeds on folly. All the days of the oppressed are wretched,
but the cheerful heart has a continual feast." Proverbs 15:13-15
Undecideds are an absolute enigma to me. Do they not know what they believe in? Or do they have this much difficulty deciphering between night and day as well?
There is a level of peace that has come over me regarding this election's results. And it has to do with the notion that I wholeheartedly believe we deserve what we get whether that be continual punishing or a gradual replenishing of our sense of strength and nationalism.
I do not want a celebrity president or a cowardice Commander in Chief. Right now, that's what I have. Still, what I may have to endure.
****
I had a foggy vision last night as I tossed my new forward weight from right elbow to left shoulder. If I recall, it was between my bouts of beating the crawling sensation from my thighs and buttocks with closed fists and chasing a Benadryl with brewed garlic clove tea to break up the cinder block of mucus that has formed on my susceptible and growing pregnant chest.
But of course my timeline could be off.
After the fourth train passed through my backyard with the conductor asleep on the horn, I peed for the eighth time, marveled at another vanishing roll of toilet paper, blew my nose with the last ply, and caught a glimpse of my ruddy complexion in the mirror.
It could have been near this moment that in my subdued horror, I vaguely remember thinking I'm not one of those women who have that proverbial pregnancy glow.
I'm the one that needs convincing. But believe it or not, 40 weeks is a SHORT gestation period.
And 22 weeks in, I realize I will regret focusing so much of my energy outward on my political stance and not more inward on my own blessed state.
After all, isn't it about finding the joy?
but the cheerful heart has a continual feast." Proverbs 15:13-15
Undecideds are an absolute enigma to me. Do they not know what they believe in? Or do they have this much difficulty deciphering between night and day as well?
There is a level of peace that has come over me regarding this election's results. And it has to do with the notion that I wholeheartedly believe we deserve what we get whether that be continual punishing or a gradual replenishing of our sense of strength and nationalism.
I do not want a celebrity president or a cowardice Commander in Chief. Right now, that's what I have. Still, what I may have to endure.
****
I had a foggy vision last night as I tossed my new forward weight from right elbow to left shoulder. If I recall, it was between my bouts of beating the crawling sensation from my thighs and buttocks with closed fists and chasing a Benadryl with brewed garlic clove tea to break up the cinder block of mucus that has formed on my susceptible and growing pregnant chest.
But of course my timeline could be off.
After the fourth train passed through my backyard with the conductor asleep on the horn, I peed for the eighth time, marveled at another vanishing roll of toilet paper, blew my nose with the last ply, and caught a glimpse of my ruddy complexion in the mirror.
It could have been near this moment that in my subdued horror, I vaguely remember thinking I'm not one of those women who have that proverbial pregnancy glow.
I'm the one that needs convincing. But believe it or not, 40 weeks is a SHORT gestation period.
And 22 weeks in, I realize I will regret focusing so much of my energy outward on my political stance and not more inward on my own blessed state.
After all, isn't it about finding the joy?
Monday, October 22, 2012
We the People... are Lost
"Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God."Romans 13:2
Yesterday's church service came just in time before my partisan eyes bled red and I threw myself on the mercy of the Lord with the knowledge that the world was going to end after November 6 if it didn't swing my way.
Proverbs 21 states that the king's heart is a stream of water in the hand of the LORD; he turns it wherever he will. But does the king's will go against the Lord? Are we the people so blinded by our partisan views that the loony left misinterprets the constitution and the crazy right misinterprets The Bible?
This is not the Kingdom in which I belong, but what earth do I want to dwell?
Yesterday's church service came just in time before my partisan eyes bled red and I threw myself on the mercy of the Lord with the knowledge that the world was going to end after November 6 if it didn't swing my way.
Spiritually kicked off my soapbox, I was brought to my knees and my angry tongue muted.
That's the power of the cross really. And nothing but the blood of Jesus can convict me in any other way.
That's the power of the cross really. And nothing but the blood of Jesus can convict me in any other way.
Our Government is We the People.
And We the People have never been more divided, more contentious, more greedy, more self-righteous, and more self absorbed in materials and image idolatry than ever before.
We the Conservatives.
We the Liberals.
We the Republicans.
We the Democrats.
The challenge at hand is to be We the People of God first.
We the Liberals.
We the Republicans.
We the Democrats.
The challenge at hand is to be We the People of God first.
And what I heard from my Savior was the only job I have in this election is to glorify Him. Wow, have I fallen short. Emotionally charged I have pined for what's right but had to grit my teeth at the fact that the earthly truth is simply... gone.
These are questions to ask when you pull the lever. Or punch the chad. Or bravely trust the computerized ballot to calculate correctly. Not who do you believe, but what do you believe in.
This is not the Kingdom in which I belong, but what earth do I want to dwell?
Friday, October 19, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Modesty-The New Mod
"Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it."
Proverbs 22:6
For years, I've been talking a great deal about the dire need for the morale pendulum to swing far the other way in this nation. Where the oversexualization of little girls sporting spray tans and sweatsuits with provocative words stamped across their prepubescent asses falls prey to the rise of imagination, back to homemade dolls and mud-pies. A nation where mom's protect their daughters from mainstream media's gnashing teeth and relish in their innocence. When did we lose hold of teaching reverence for one's body and succumb to our adolescents' lipgloss rings on the heads of penises?
My Aunt sent me a book about her maternal grandmother growing up in Montana in the late 1800's. This was without a doubt a simpler time, but what struck me was the joy that permeated the story. A time where pureness was a mainstay, family was essential, and the gift of a cinnamon stick in a stocking on Christmas morning stopped the clock.
Today, Tablets for Tots tops the wish list for the holidays. And Honey Boo Boo gets renewed for another season. Now, I'm not preaching piety or virtuousness. I grew up far too fast.
And this rise in sanctity for the youth is not because I am, as the nuns say gravid.
But I profess with every fiber of my being that I believe we the people are lost and our perpetual identification with the degradation of society and it's lewd behavior will continue to make for a weaker race.
My generation can help reverse this decline, starting with re-runs of Little House on the Prairie.
What bad could come from bringing goody two shoes back?
For years, I've been talking a great deal about the dire need for the morale pendulum to swing far the other way in this nation. Where the oversexualization of little girls sporting spray tans and sweatsuits with provocative words stamped across their prepubescent asses falls prey to the rise of imagination, back to homemade dolls and mud-pies. A nation where mom's protect their daughters from mainstream media's gnashing teeth and relish in their innocence. When did we lose hold of teaching reverence for one's body and succumb to our adolescents' lipgloss rings on the heads of penises?
My Aunt sent me a book about her maternal grandmother growing up in Montana in the late 1800's. This was without a doubt a simpler time, but what struck me was the joy that permeated the story. A time where pureness was a mainstay, family was essential, and the gift of a cinnamon stick in a stocking on Christmas morning stopped the clock.
Today, Tablets for Tots tops the wish list for the holidays. And Honey Boo Boo gets renewed for another season. Now, I'm not preaching piety or virtuousness. I grew up far too fast.
And this rise in sanctity for the youth is not because I am, as the nuns say gravid.
But I profess with every fiber of my being that I believe we the people are lost and our perpetual identification with the degradation of society and it's lewd behavior will continue to make for a weaker race.
My generation can help reverse this decline, starting with re-runs of Little House on the Prairie.
What bad could come from bringing goody two shoes back?
Monday, October 8, 2012
Aftermath
As suspected, Obama supporters are not looking at their candidate. In defeat, they are resorting to the easiest strategy of calling his challenger, a liar, liar, pants on fire.
Yet days ago on CNN, Obama's campaign manager Stephanie Cutter conceded that Mitt Romney isn’t actually planning to run up a $5 trillion tab via tax cuts and she and President Obama grossly inflated that number.
And yesterday, Intelligence surfaced that the Secretary of State, her department, and the President made false claims about the truth behind the Libyan terrorist attack and their part they played in the murder of our US Ambassador by pulling out security.
But, the adoring pundits leave these facts out of their rundown.
This is playground antics and bad journalism.
Yet days ago on CNN, Obama's campaign manager Stephanie Cutter conceded that Mitt Romney isn’t actually planning to run up a $5 trillion tab via tax cuts and she and President Obama grossly inflated that number.
And yesterday, Intelligence surfaced that the Secretary of State, her department, and the President made false claims about the truth behind the Libyan terrorist attack and their part they played in the murder of our US Ambassador by pulling out security.
But, the adoring pundits leave these facts out of their rundown.
This is playground antics and bad journalism.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Oh The Places You'll Go...Sniff. Sniff.
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...” Dr. Seuess
Monday, October 1, 2012
19 Weeks
“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.” Psalm 139:13-14
In the past I would have called myself multifaceted. Intricate in my thought patterns. These days I wonder...
I haven't been writing. I've been reading. Vonnegut, Hemingway, and now Bradbury.
Damn, they make it look so effortless. They make me question my capacity to let my most inner dialogue pour out and into the lives of my greatest critics or those near that thought they knew me. They make me reexamine my aspirations of opening a vein, letting it bleed out exposed, while naysayers throw salt and call a heart a spade.
Still I'm compelled.
Not everybody is gonna be a fan. So it goes.
I want to write about the short nine month time span it takes to miraculously make a human being of flesh, blood, soul, and my DNA. I want to candidly write about the modifiers I would use to describe this blessed event. And I want to do this with full intention, knowing I run the risk of having no fans or sympathizers.
First, it is impossible for me to look at another woman who has carried a child and not mouth the words with complete sincerity, "You're Amazing."
Secondly, if I hear one more woman describe her "gentle" pregnancy as a beautiful experience where she glowed with radiance from within without a tinge of nausea, I might bite the tip of her nose off and violently throw it up with my daily dose of bile that ends up in the closest toilet, sink, or bucket I can reach.
With that said, I begin the written pilgrimage that could be just for me. Pulling on my threadbare stretch pants whatever time of day and wrestling with the conflicting feelings of grateful, awestruck elation and a downright miserable existence where raising my head off the pillow is my greatest feat of accomplishment.
Won't you join me?
In the past I would have called myself multifaceted. Intricate in my thought patterns. These days I wonder...
I haven't been writing. I've been reading. Vonnegut, Hemingway, and now Bradbury.
Damn, they make it look so effortless. They make me question my capacity to let my most inner dialogue pour out and into the lives of my greatest critics or those near that thought they knew me. They make me reexamine my aspirations of opening a vein, letting it bleed out exposed, while naysayers throw salt and call a heart a spade.
Still I'm compelled.
Not everybody is gonna be a fan. So it goes.
I want to write about the short nine month time span it takes to miraculously make a human being of flesh, blood, soul, and my DNA. I want to candidly write about the modifiers I would use to describe this blessed event. And I want to do this with full intention, knowing I run the risk of having no fans or sympathizers.
First, it is impossible for me to look at another woman who has carried a child and not mouth the words with complete sincerity, "You're Amazing."
Secondly, if I hear one more woman describe her "gentle" pregnancy as a beautiful experience where she glowed with radiance from within without a tinge of nausea, I might bite the tip of her nose off and violently throw it up with my daily dose of bile that ends up in the closest toilet, sink, or bucket I can reach.
With that said, I begin the written pilgrimage that could be just for me. Pulling on my threadbare stretch pants whatever time of day and wrestling with the conflicting feelings of grateful, awestruck elation and a downright miserable existence where raising my head off the pillow is my greatest feat of accomplishment.
Won't you join me?
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Shut Up and Look Inward
"But if we judged ourselves truly, we would not be judged. But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world." 1 Corinthians 11:31-33
I am going to keep my rudder deep in the water.
The winds are strong. The waters are rough.
I'm going to stay the course.
It's You. And You alone. Jesus.
Because I cling to the grace and mercy bestowed on an undeserving me everyday, I am small minded?
Because I want a fiscally buttoned up, conservative president that makes foreign policy a priority, I am a racist?
I am going to keep my rudder deep in the water.
The winds are strong. The waters are rough.
I'm going to stay the course.
It's You. And You alone. Jesus.
Because I cling to the grace and mercy bestowed on an undeserving me everyday, I am small minded?
Because I want a fiscally buttoned up, conservative president that makes foreign policy a priority, I am a racist?
Because American prisoners of war lit the German prison walls with candles made from the fat of butchered human beings, they were heartless?
Do you see the limited amplitude of my asinine questions?
The narrow scope used to view me and my heart continues to reflect a gross disfigurement of who I am because of the lens you're choosing to look through.
Choose better.
Seek the Truth.
And for the Love of our Living God...VOTE!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Liberal AND Dramatic
"Some people regard private enterprise as a predatory tiger to be shot. Others look on it as a cow they can milk. Not enough people see it as a healthy horse, pulling a sturdy wagon." Winston Churchill
Obama's grand idea to resuscitate our croaking economy is to quote "pool resources and hence facilitate some redistribution because I actually believe in redistribution."
Flailing GOP campaign? Dream on dreamers...
I"ll give you one guess as to what our President thinks...
Correction.
Correction.
Regardless of what the liberal pandering Huffington Post touts as their headline, this is not a hell week for candidate Romney. Nor, is the Right dancing the disco freak out. This isn't a debacle, spectacle, or gaffe.
This is the cold hard truth of where this country is heading.
I don't.
Nor do I believe him when he says that "the Muslim world will keep our people safe."
Who thinks the radical Islamists with heed his words?
Who thinks the radical Islamists with heed his words?
Flailing GOP campaign? Dream on dreamers...
At worst this race is a dead heat.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Ever Changing And Rearranging
"Assuming that you have heard about him and were taught in him, as the truth is in Jesus, to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds." Ephesians 4:21-23
I am financing a couch at a chain furniture store.
There I said it. I'm unbridled of this strange truth.
Yet another one in the line of oddities considered normalcy's outside of New York.
I say Jesus' name without incurring a fight of intellects.
I relish in walking the 1400 square feet to my master bath where I can sit and read in solace, except for the hypnotizing whirl of the running dishwasher.
I'm already plotting the delicacy I will whip up with my Kitchen Aid mixer and return on the robin's egg blue platter my neighbor delivered her perfectly moist pound cake with coiffed peanut butter glaze on.
I'm joining the ranks. Without a stutter. Without resistance.
I've also decided I want to be more pleasant like CBS Sunday Morning, instead of a news report in which I wince, hold my breath, turn a crimson red, and threaten to test inertia by whipping the remote control in the direction of the one dimensional talking head.
But it is apparent, I will have to work up to that.
I am financing a couch at a chain furniture store.
There I said it. I'm unbridled of this strange truth.
Yet another one in the line of oddities considered normalcy's outside of New York.
I say Jesus' name without incurring a fight of intellects.
I relish in walking the 1400 square feet to my master bath where I can sit and read in solace, except for the hypnotizing whirl of the running dishwasher.
I'm already plotting the delicacy I will whip up with my Kitchen Aid mixer and return on the robin's egg blue platter my neighbor delivered her perfectly moist pound cake with coiffed peanut butter glaze on.
I'm joining the ranks. Without a stutter. Without resistance.
I've also decided I want to be more pleasant like CBS Sunday Morning, instead of a news report in which I wince, hold my breath, turn a crimson red, and threaten to test inertia by whipping the remote control in the direction of the one dimensional talking head.
But it is apparent, I will have to work up to that.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
True Colors of Islamists
With yesterday’s storming of American diplomatic offices in Egypt and Libya, the world is now watching the true colors of Islamists—something that those of us with experience have known all along. Unfortunately the Obama administration has been doggedly colorblind to the Islamists’ true colors.
We give Egypt $2 billion a year. We give Libya military and financial aid to topple their dictator. But what do we get in the way of thanks? Death and destruction.
Make no mistake—these recent violent events will not be contained to those two countries. It will spread to many other countries that we have supported in the past—supported with our money and blood.
The extreme naivety of our foreign policy makers is not only embarrassing; it is dangerous and disastrous.
As Yogi Berra once said: “It’s déjà vu all over again.” By that I mean, it’s “1979 Iran” all over again. In that year, another group of naïve amateurs ran our foreign policy, and their ignorance ultimately led to the storming of our embassy and the hostage-taking of American citizens for 444 days.
Here is the core of our government’s ignorance: We assume that everyone is like us. That everyone responds with gratitude to generous gestures. That everyone respects us with the same respect that we offer them. That when we bend over backwards, they will show appreciation for our efforts to please them.
But not only would they never respond that way; they view our actions as unmitigated weakness. And with weakness they see an opportunity: the further humiliation of the infidels.
Our foreign policy officials ignorantly believe we won’t be viewed as infidels since we give them money. But to Islamists, it’s not only legal to take money from infidels; taking such money and using it to humiliate us is considered the height of superiority.
Apparently the attacks in Egypt and Libya were provoked by a film that disparages Islam and Muhammad. To be sure, I would never be party to any film or form of attack on the Muslim religion. The people behind that film were foolish.
But Arab Spring or no Arab Spring, Islamists will never understand what democracy and freedom of speech are all about. They will never understand that the US government had nothing to do with the film. The killing of innocent people will never touch their conscience. To them, the killing of any infidel is always just.
When will the adolescents in Washington wake up and smell the Jihadi coffee? When will they rouse themselves from their stupor of naivety?
When will America begin to comprehend the gravity of our times?
I pray, God, that it will be soon.
Michael Youseff
We give Egypt $2 billion a year. We give Libya military and financial aid to topple their dictator. But what do we get in the way of thanks? Death and destruction.
Make no mistake—these recent violent events will not be contained to those two countries. It will spread to many other countries that we have supported in the past—supported with our money and blood.
The extreme naivety of our foreign policy makers is not only embarrassing; it is dangerous and disastrous.
As Yogi Berra once said: “It’s déjà vu all over again.” By that I mean, it’s “1979 Iran” all over again. In that year, another group of naïve amateurs ran our foreign policy, and their ignorance ultimately led to the storming of our embassy and the hostage-taking of American citizens for 444 days.
Here is the core of our government’s ignorance: We assume that everyone is like us. That everyone responds with gratitude to generous gestures. That everyone respects us with the same respect that we offer them. That when we bend over backwards, they will show appreciation for our efforts to please them.
But not only would they never respond that way; they view our actions as unmitigated weakness. And with weakness they see an opportunity: the further humiliation of the infidels.
Our foreign policy officials ignorantly believe we won’t be viewed as infidels since we give them money. But to Islamists, it’s not only legal to take money from infidels; taking such money and using it to humiliate us is considered the height of superiority.
Apparently the attacks in Egypt and Libya were provoked by a film that disparages Islam and Muhammad. To be sure, I would never be party to any film or form of attack on the Muslim religion. The people behind that film were foolish.
But Arab Spring or no Arab Spring, Islamists will never understand what democracy and freedom of speech are all about. They will never understand that the US government had nothing to do with the film. The killing of innocent people will never touch their conscience. To them, the killing of any infidel is always just.
When will the adolescents in Washington wake up and smell the Jihadi coffee? When will they rouse themselves from their stupor of naivety?
When will America begin to comprehend the gravity of our times?
I pray, God, that it will be soon.
Michael Youseff
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Yin and Yang
Signs that the second trimester may bring gladder tidings....
Had sex with husband this morning and rewarded him for all his hard work. His resilience to not remind me that I sound like a broken record when I say, "I just want to feel normal again," never ceases to amaze me.
Signs that I am tired of this presidency....
Our nation's leader apologizes for hurting Muslin's feelings on September 11th anniversary and in the wake of Libya's attack.
Had sex with husband this morning and rewarded him for all his hard work. His resilience to not remind me that I sound like a broken record when I say, "I just want to feel normal again," never ceases to amaze me.
Signs that I am tired of this presidency....
Our nation's leader apologizes for hurting Muslin's feelings on September 11th anniversary and in the wake of Libya's attack.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
There Is Life. And It Looks Human'
And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place. Acts 17:26
Shhh. Hi.
It's just going to be a squeak. Not sure if anyone will hear it really.
Just enough gusto on my part to not let the roar of the move and meat gathered to overshadow the meager words I can no longer swallow in silence.
I got sidetracked.
But I'm back and coming to... slowly.
I seem to have landed in a strange world of mega-breeders. A super race if you will.
They are safe. And welcoming.
I'm picking up dinner at drive thru's in our new Family Truckster and talking about my growing uterus regularly.
So far these common actions are keeping all suspicions at bay.
However, I refuse to wear Lilly Pulitzer and pray the locals will be none the wiser.
Shhh. Hi.
It's just going to be a squeak. Not sure if anyone will hear it really.
Just enough gusto on my part to not let the roar of the move and meat gathered to overshadow the meager words I can no longer swallow in silence.
I got sidetracked.
But I'm back and coming to... slowly.
I seem to have landed in a strange world of mega-breeders. A super race if you will.
They are safe. And welcoming.
I'm picking up dinner at drive thru's in our new Family Truckster and talking about my growing uterus regularly.
So far these common actions are keeping all suspicions at bay.
However, I refuse to wear Lilly Pulitzer and pray the locals will be none the wiser.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
There's Music In Them Thar Hills
Rabun County in the news y'all...
Barbara Woodall's interview on the porch of Sunrise Lodge and Mountain Song Overlook at our beloved Splendor Mountain.
Come sit in our yellow rockers for yourself.
Barbara Woodall's interview on the porch of Sunrise Lodge and Mountain Song Overlook at our beloved Splendor Mountain.
Come sit in our yellow rockers for yourself.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Peace
On August 5, 2012 my gorgeous and gracious Grandmother, Margaret Jeanne closed her sparkling eyes and drifted off to her final earthly sleep while holding the hand of her oldest daughter. Her three children and eleven grandchildren are left with the sweet sound of her infectious giggle and creative spirit, we are who we are because she was who she was. And we are forever blessed because of her.
Open to me the gates of righteousness,
that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord.
This is the gate of the Lord;
the righteous shall enter through it.
I thank you that you have answered me and have become my salvation. Psalm 118:19-21
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Swan Song
"If the LORD delights in a man's way, he makes his steps firm;" Psalm 37:23
All is quiet on the pour my opinions out in a clever manner as to annoy and entice simultaneously while getting a medicinal fix for my "published writing" fix front.
But hardly anything is quiet on the this is my wild and unruly life, a reality not a distant dream that is rapidly unfolding into a new chapter as I become one of"those people" who procreates and settles down.
If my 12 week old fetus feels any of the elevated anxiety and surge of endorphins I have felt in the last twelve days, (it's) going to be one hell of a rock tough cookie.
I saw something last night that made the flood gates open.
A view of the Brooklyn Bridge in an old movie.
And it confirmed what I thought I already knew.
I have zero regrets.
***
Sitting on the back of our double parked UHaul truck, watching cabs curse me and the makeshift traveling fire lane as my husband (God Bless Him) loads our belongings, I know how easy it will be to bid farewell.
The same feeling rushes over me as we plow down a rainy Broadway dividing the SoHo shoppers in the middle and dodging the poncho covered tourists on top of the City Sights bus. So long.
As we take a right towards the Holland Tunnel, I wait for the ache in my heart to show itself, but it never does. Instead I count down until I see the dim lights on the other side and wait for the breath of freedom.
Who knew such elation could come from landing on the New Jersey Turnpike?
And with the valiant Lady Liberty on our left, standing tall against the storm clouds shining her light in the dismal fog that shrouds New York's skyline, I wave triumphantly and simply say, Goodbye.
All is quiet on the pour my opinions out in a clever manner as to annoy and entice simultaneously while getting a medicinal fix for my "published writing" fix front.
But hardly anything is quiet on the this is my wild and unruly life, a reality not a distant dream that is rapidly unfolding into a new chapter as I become one of"those people" who procreates and settles down.
If my 12 week old fetus feels any of the elevated anxiety and surge of endorphins I have felt in the last twelve days, (it's) going to be one hell of a rock tough cookie.
I saw something last night that made the flood gates open.
A view of the Brooklyn Bridge in an old movie.
And it confirmed what I thought I already knew.
I have zero regrets.
***
Sitting on the back of our double parked UHaul truck, watching cabs curse me and the makeshift traveling fire lane as my husband (God Bless Him) loads our belongings, I know how easy it will be to bid farewell.
The same feeling rushes over me as we plow down a rainy Broadway dividing the SoHo shoppers in the middle and dodging the poncho covered tourists on top of the City Sights bus. So long.
As we take a right towards the Holland Tunnel, I wait for the ache in my heart to show itself, but it never does. Instead I count down until I see the dim lights on the other side and wait for the breath of freedom.
Who knew such elation could come from landing on the New Jersey Turnpike?
And with the valiant Lady Liberty on our left, standing tall against the storm clouds shining her light in the dismal fog that shrouds New York's skyline, I wave triumphantly and simply say, Goodbye.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Button Bustin Proud - Literally
"For he strengthens the bars of your gates; he blesses your children within you." Psalm 147:13
I've been thinking of starting a new blog.
In trend with a new beginning.
Here are some of the name's I am mulling over.
"Nobody Told Me There Would Be Days Like These"
"What The F*ck Is Happening to My Body?"
"Peaches N Scream" (Although that would be more of the same)
"I Just Threw Up Another $6 Smoothie."
"My Peach Pit"
The choices are limitless really, so for now I'll just proclaim the obvious.
I'm having fun spelling with shells and we're gonna have a....
I've been thinking of starting a new blog.
In trend with a new beginning.
Here are some of the name's I am mulling over.
"Nobody Told Me There Would Be Days Like These"
"What The F*ck Is Happening to My Body?"
"Peaches N Scream" (Although that would be more of the same)
"I Just Threw Up Another $6 Smoothie."
"My Peach Pit"
The choices are limitless really, so for now I'll just proclaim the obvious.
I'm having fun spelling with shells and we're gonna have a....
Friday, July 27, 2012
The Last Love Letter
Maybe it was my overwhelming amazement of the climbing Freedom Tower or the abandoned sadness of the empty seats of a once raucous Shea Stadium. Could it have been the sheer wonder of midtown's building's standing with straight backs in allegiance to their leader on 34th Street. Possibly it was one emotion or a sum of the city's parts, but something grabbed my heart as I scanned the island's landscape and it didn't let go.
I am sorry New York. I really do owe you an apology. I've let my waves of nausea, sickening reflect my feelings about you. I have left the empty ache in my belly be filled with contempt towards exactly what makes you great. I have spit bile into the bowels and let the metallic taste in my mouth leave me with the ill thought of your existence and my place in it. Please forgive me.
I love you. I've adored claiming you as my own, my way. And as I close the door on the incessant, towering madness, I realize I've forgotten the longing once endured to be a part of you. A part of it. How silly of me.
So I need to say this out loud.
Or I fear I'll watch the elusive genie go back in his bottle and I will be left wishing he grant me that last chance to give homage to this grand illusion known as the greatest city in the world.
Thank you New York. Thank you.
I am sorry New York. I really do owe you an apology. I've let my waves of nausea, sickening reflect my feelings about you. I have left the empty ache in my belly be filled with contempt towards exactly what makes you great. I have spit bile into the bowels and let the metallic taste in my mouth leave me with the ill thought of your existence and my place in it. Please forgive me.
I love you. I've adored claiming you as my own, my way. And as I close the door on the incessant, towering madness, I realize I've forgotten the longing once endured to be a part of you. A part of it. How silly of me.
So I need to say this out loud.
Or I fear I'll watch the elusive genie go back in his bottle and I will be left wishing he grant me that last chance to give homage to this grand illusion known as the greatest city in the world.
Thank you New York. Thank you.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Eat More Altruism
"Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel." Philippians 1:27
This is my choice, not your suggested mantra.
You know what the problem is with the liberal definition of tolerance?
They are intolerant of everyone who does not give license to their lifestyle.
This is hypocrisy.
Chick fil A is not force feeding their beliefs down your throat, so why are your filled with contempt?
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Lunch Hour
"But when the sun rose they were scorched. And since they had no root, they withered away." Matthew 13:6
Everyone can blow out the stale breath they've been holding and enjoy a sigh of relief. The stifling mind crazed heat that brings out the demon even in the sanest of us has broke.
The hot child in the city can draw in a lightened air, thinned from idling cars, bus steam, and cigarette smoke plumes lofting in the thick clouds that cover New York's valuable real estate.
Just when the street walkers had reached a frenzied fever pitch of heat exhaustion, we were thrown into the cold showers to melt away the heavy rage that was cooking on a cement stove.
I sit at the park's edge counting raindrops and and observe the chronic shielding the storm under an awning.
Over a Cesar Salad, I watch not one, but three men unzip their pants and piss all over the base of a littered light pole.
Thankfully the smell of urine can't compete with the newly cleansed summer air.
I put this notion in the win column and ask for my check.
*Photo from Bobby Williams
**I didn't bring my phone.
Everyone can blow out the stale breath they've been holding and enjoy a sigh of relief. The stifling mind crazed heat that brings out the demon even in the sanest of us has broke.
The hot child in the city can draw in a lightened air, thinned from idling cars, bus steam, and cigarette smoke plumes lofting in the thick clouds that cover New York's valuable real estate.
Just when the street walkers had reached a frenzied fever pitch of heat exhaustion, we were thrown into the cold showers to melt away the heavy rage that was cooking on a cement stove.
I sit at the park's edge counting raindrops and and observe the chronic shielding the storm under an awning.
Over a Cesar Salad, I watch not one, but three men unzip their pants and piss all over the base of a littered light pole.
Thankfully the smell of urine can't compete with the newly cleansed summer air.
I put this notion in the win column and ask for my check.
**I didn't bring my phone.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Cannabis Can Can Can
"If Marijuana were unknown, and bio-prospectors were suddenly to find it in some remote mountain crevice, it's discovery would no doubt be hailed as a medical breakthrough. Scientists would praise it's potential for treating everything from pain to cancer and marvel at it's rich pharmacopoeia; many of whose chemicals mimic vital molecules in the human body." -The Economist
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
So Much For Individual Achievement
According the our President...
Who can no longer hide his distaste for capitalism and the private sector.
Sorry Alexander Graham Bell....
The Federal Government did.
So you should pay them back.
Who can no longer hide his distaste for capitalism and the private sector.
Sorry Alexander Graham Bell....
Sorry Steve Jobs...
So you should pay them back.
Monday, July 16, 2012
God Not Included
"Freedom means you are unobstructed in living your life as you choose. Anything less is a form of slavery. If you are living out of a sense of obligation you are slave."
W. Dyer
Friday, July 13, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
A Flicker
"And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail." Isaiah 58:11
"Mama if that's moving up, then I'm moving out." B. Joel
I need to review the last three and half years of my life.
I am appreciative I spilled it out here in black and white for me to ponder and blush.
The desire to know Manhattan like a friend has burned in me and I am blessed to have let the flame spread its fury and make a lasting imprint on my life.
If not better, I am a more fulfilled human being because of it.
I was 32 when the bitter cold, January air kissed my cheeks and welcomed me here. I'm 36.
And there comes a line in my aging face, where I have look in the mirror and admit it iss time to cross it. Cross into greener, cleaner, and cheaper pastures.
Where the give and take isn't so tough and The Daily News so brutal.
The rats and the Asian women on my block can commence their fighting over the mountainous piles of garbage. I won't be here to shoo them away anymore.
I've committed a crime. One many before me have, but nonetheless in the eyes of the faithful, a crime.
I gave my 30 day notice to relinquish one of the most covetous and desired materials in all of Manhattan; An affordable one bedroom East Village apartment.
And the desperate arms have already started to flail in knocking down my tenement's door.
There are people who are content with their mission and their impending mortality, experiencing the same vistas and the same pressures life brings day to day.
There are those that suffer in their stifled existence, with the knowledge that there is something more for them beyond the horizon.
The journey is to find our purpose and if you're not inspired by your direction, its time to move on and chase that fire.
I know I'll miss it, but there's always the Greyhound on the Hudson River line.
"Mama if that's moving up, then I'm moving out." B. Joel
I need to review the last three and half years of my life.
I am appreciative I spilled it out here in black and white for me to ponder and blush.
The desire to know Manhattan like a friend has burned in me and I am blessed to have let the flame spread its fury and make a lasting imprint on my life.
If not better, I am a more fulfilled human being because of it.
I was 32 when the bitter cold, January air kissed my cheeks and welcomed me here. I'm 36.
And there comes a line in my aging face, where I have look in the mirror and admit it iss time to cross it. Cross into greener, cleaner, and cheaper pastures.
Where the give and take isn't so tough and The Daily News so brutal.
The rats and the Asian women on my block can commence their fighting over the mountainous piles of garbage. I won't be here to shoo them away anymore.
I've committed a crime. One many before me have, but nonetheless in the eyes of the faithful, a crime.
I gave my 30 day notice to relinquish one of the most covetous and desired materials in all of Manhattan; An affordable one bedroom East Village apartment.
And the desperate arms have already started to flail in knocking down my tenement's door.
There are people who are content with their mission and their impending mortality, experiencing the same vistas and the same pressures life brings day to day.
There are those that suffer in their stifled existence, with the knowledge that there is something more for them beyond the horizon.
The journey is to find our purpose and if you're not inspired by your direction, its time to move on and chase that fire.
I know I'll miss it, but there's always the Greyhound on the Hudson River line.
Friday, July 6, 2012
All These Things That I Have Loved
"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven" Ecclesiastes 3:1
My days of blogging are numbered.
I've unsubscribed to most of my daily emails providing me the deals on highlights, low lives, haute cuisine, and any other clever puns telling me how to the live or look like I live the perfect life in the city.
I'm throwing away my earmarked magazines singing the praises of the best of New York. These people, places, and events I thought I might encounter; I did.
I've taken to my bed with the classics in hardback at sundown...anything past that is the witching hour.
My new neighbors are very popular drug dealers with a revolving door like the Plaza at high noon.
This has my head in my hands well past four in the morning...every single night.
Good for them.
But I'm tired.
Someone was stabbed in Webster Hall last night. And on Avenue B a few nights ago.
Bloody face crusty punks pace my street dragging their mangy companions, cursing the oppression of the man.
The new manger of the tattoo shop below me sweeps his curb and plants annuals in his window box.
This is nice.
But not enough to mask the vomit splattered at my threshold. A result from yet another drunken violent cat fight last night before both girls got in their car and headed back to Jersey.
Thanks for visiting.
Sure the once skid row called the Bowery is gentrifying at rapid speed.
The reformed neighborhood crack addict owns the Vegan Bakery.
And Alphabet City has turned its notorious Methadone corner.
But New York isn't really changing. And it shouldn't.
I am.
And I am starting to say my goodbyes.
Fo real dis time.
So can I get a little moral support?
I've unsubscribed to most of my daily emails providing me the deals on highlights, low lives, haute cuisine, and any other clever puns telling me how to the live or look like I live the perfect life in the city.
I'm throwing away my earmarked magazines singing the praises of the best of New York. These people, places, and events I thought I might encounter; I did.
I've taken to my bed with the classics in hardback at sundown...anything past that is the witching hour.
My new neighbors are very popular drug dealers with a revolving door like the Plaza at high noon.
This has my head in my hands well past four in the morning...every single night.
Good for them.
But I'm tired.
Someone was stabbed in Webster Hall last night. And on Avenue B a few nights ago.
Bloody face crusty punks pace my street dragging their mangy companions, cursing the oppression of the man.
The new manger of the tattoo shop below me sweeps his curb and plants annuals in his window box.
This is nice.
But not enough to mask the vomit splattered at my threshold. A result from yet another drunken violent cat fight last night before both girls got in their car and headed back to Jersey.
Thanks for visiting.
Sure the once skid row called the Bowery is gentrifying at rapid speed.
The reformed neighborhood crack addict owns the Vegan Bakery.
And Alphabet City has turned its notorious Methadone corner.
But New York isn't really changing. And it shouldn't.
I am.
And I am starting to say my goodbyes.
Fo real dis time.
So can I get a little moral support?
Monday, July 2, 2012
Creeps In This Petty Pace
"Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life."
Proverbs 16:31
Based on my own general assumptions and the fact that Facebook goers remind me everyday, it is understood that almost no one knows where the time goes.
Apparently, no one out there is impervious to the elusiveness of time and its neck breaking speed. This seems uncommonly acute in parents who are at a total loss of the power of the ticking clock and its whereabouts.
As their babies grow into toddlers, into children, and eventually out their front doors, this birthed life flashes before their weepy eyes and provides that unmistaken measuring stick.
As for me, I had this epiphany when my Mama told me my nearly 90 year old Grandmother is sick.
I have two of them. Living Grandmothers that is...Blessed with two beautiful matriarchs with a wealth of wisdom from which I came. And I've spent so much fleeting time away that I've missed moments with them to hear the stories they have to tell and learn about the people they are.
This is a true tragedy of the passing of time.
Proverbs 16:31
Based on my own general assumptions and the fact that Facebook goers remind me everyday, it is understood that almost no one knows where the time goes.
Apparently, no one out there is impervious to the elusiveness of time and its neck breaking speed. This seems uncommonly acute in parents who are at a total loss of the power of the ticking clock and its whereabouts.
As their babies grow into toddlers, into children, and eventually out their front doors, this birthed life flashes before their weepy eyes and provides that unmistaken measuring stick.
As for me, I had this epiphany when my Mama told me my nearly 90 year old Grandmother is sick.
I have two of them. Living Grandmothers that is...Blessed with two beautiful matriarchs with a wealth of wisdom from which I came. And I've spent so much fleeting time away that I've missed moments with them to hear the stories they have to tell and learn about the people they are.
This is a true tragedy of the passing of time.
Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid
Or better yet, seek the Lord with all your heart and all your soul...
"And it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast might even speak and might cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be slain. Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name." Revelation 13:15-17
"And it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast might even speak and might cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be slain. Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name." Revelation 13:15-17
I just want to live in a nation that Marlo Thomas promised when I was a little girl. A land where the children are free. In a land to a shining sea. And you and me are free to be you and me.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Sick, Sick, Sick
"Government exists to protect us from each other. Where government has gone beyond its limits is in deciding to protect us from ourselves. Government’s first duty is to protect the people, not run their lives." Ronald Reagan
ObamaCare: A violation of our individual rights, personal freedoms, and liberties as Americans.
It is another entitlement program added on to the growing and controlling federal government that can't afford it.
And most of this country is standing there with their hand out and open.
And most of this country is standing there with their hand out and open.
America, do you want to be Sweden?
I Individually Choose Healthy
"Cast all of your anxiety on him, because he cares for you." 2 Peter 5:7
"No, the blues are because you are getting fat or its been raining for too long. You're sad that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen. And you don't know what it is. You've had that feeling?"
"Quite often, some people call it angst."
"All right. Angst. But what do you do about it."
Truman Capote-Breakfast at Tiffany's
Within minutes, the Supreme Court will release it's decision on Obamacare which will have a powerful impact on our health care, the presidential race, and the breadth of government control.
I just got off the phone with my meager insurance company, which I recently qualified due to the health and heart wrenching hours spent on set.
Turns out they are only covering 20% of my recent visits.
I haven't been to the doctor in seven years. I had stored them up.
And in one visit, apparently because I mentioned the stress of living in this rather eventful city and working 70 hour weeks in a blood sucking competitive industry that rapes the souls of many to the doctor,she coded it as a psychological visit and diagnosed me with ANXIETY.
No shit bitch.
Now, my insurance won't pay because the routine physical turned into a fraudulent mental health visit.
****BREAKING NEWS***SUPREME COURT UPHOLDS OBAMACARE AS CONSTITUTIONAL****BREAKING NEWS****
(More on that later...eek, gasp, scary)
I calmly call the doctor's office and let them know, not only did this sassy doctor, clad in a leopard dress not lay a hand on me or go over my blood work results; She divulged her painful divorce details, her weight loss resulting in a new husband, a fondness for tennis and affection for wine. Telling me all the while she was popping doses of LEXAPRO to get through it all.
As she handed me seven prescriptions which I told her I would NEVER take, she did her best imitation of Authur Fonzarelli with a thumbs up and mouthed "Try it, it's awesome."
And I can't casually mention my difficult job to my primary physician without incurring an added cost...
Are you fucking kidding me?
"No, the blues are because you are getting fat or its been raining for too long. You're sad that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen. And you don't know what it is. You've had that feeling?"
"Quite often, some people call it angst."
"All right. Angst. But what do you do about it."
Truman Capote-Breakfast at Tiffany's
Within minutes, the Supreme Court will release it's decision on Obamacare which will have a powerful impact on our health care, the presidential race, and the breadth of government control.
I just got off the phone with my meager insurance company, which I recently qualified due to the health and heart wrenching hours spent on set.
Turns out they are only covering 20% of my recent visits.
I haven't been to the doctor in seven years. I had stored them up.
And in one visit, apparently because I mentioned the stress of living in this rather eventful city and working 70 hour weeks in a blood sucking competitive industry that rapes the souls of many to the doctor,she coded it as a psychological visit and diagnosed me with ANXIETY.
No shit bitch.
Now, my insurance won't pay because the routine physical turned into a fraudulent mental health visit.
****BREAKING NEWS***SUPREME COURT UPHOLDS OBAMACARE AS CONSTITUTIONAL****BREAKING NEWS****
(More on that later...eek, gasp, scary)
I calmly call the doctor's office and let them know, not only did this sassy doctor, clad in a leopard dress not lay a hand on me or go over my blood work results; She divulged her painful divorce details, her weight loss resulting in a new husband, a fondness for tennis and affection for wine. Telling me all the while she was popping doses of LEXAPRO to get through it all.
As she handed me seven prescriptions which I told her I would NEVER take, she did her best imitation of Authur Fonzarelli with a thumbs up and mouthed "Try it, it's awesome."
And I can't casually mention my difficult job to my primary physician without incurring an added cost...
Are you fucking kidding me?
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Mr. Misinterpretation
"When a land transgresses, it has many rulers, but with a man of understanding and knowledge, its stability will long continue." Proverbs 28:2
Lastly, when he said “If I don’t have this [economic improvement] done in three years, then there’s going to be a one-term proposition."
Mmmm. There seems to be a little confusion.
Why is Obama exerting executive privilege to butt his way into a bitter, ongoing investigation [Fast and Furious] of lying Eric Holder and cronies if he had no knowledge or acquaintance of it?
Maybe he did.
And does he really believe the Latino/Hispanic population finds favor in his eleventh hour antics when he has done nothing with immigration reform up until now?
If so, he offends their intelligence.
Was he lying?
Then what's with all the campaigning?
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Just You And I
"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow." Ecclesiastes 4:9-10
It is important to me that I not busy myself with dim distractions and minor worries as to pull my focus from my current state and God-Willing future.
This includes but is not limited to brave victims who urged a Pennsylvania jury to find Jerry Sandusky guilty of heinous sexual abuse charges, Obama's vote share mildly declining as we the people walk a thin line in a tight race all the way until November, or the fowl guests invited to a Gay Pride Reception at the White House flipping the bird to a photograph of President Ronald Reagan while audibly saying F*Ck You.
But I digress.
The sun rises behind me and the Intracoastal's glass surface changes from an ice blue to amber, Low-country's brilliant grass blows in the sea breeze, dancing to a familiar Southern song. I've heard it before and swayed to the sound but can't remember if it resonated in my heart. I want it to.
Bronzed bodies roll by on rusty beach cruisers toting their heavy pride and joy. Their nine or ten year old arms loaded with waxed up surf boards and scuffed fins.
Toe-heads. From their genes and determined days spent in salt drenched water.
They're sweet and scary in the same breath.
Two years ago, I told a friend of mine that in twenty, I would be diligently pounding out another novel on my wraparound porch, dappled with shade by the grand live oaks. I'd look up to see my 18 year old daughter climbing the wide wooden front stairs barefoot, with a surf board under one arm and a smile spread across her tan face.
Is this trip the preconception of a vision in the making?
Maybe it's the scent of Oleander that's making me dizzy with thoughts of a simple life and beach cottage. They say its poison after all.
But so is the tireless rat race of the Empire City.
The driving force of hedonistic experience and fame seeking suffering is a lethal dose I continue to take. And to what end?
I grabbed my husband's hand somewhere between dark and dawn and whispered, "Let's take another leap together."
He rolled over and stayed the course of sleep.
But I think he heard me. And I think he smiled in agreement.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Alice Cooper Was On To Something...
I love when NYU is out for the summer. The streets take on an authentic neighborhood feel. A bustling village one would want to be a part of.The Polish ladies bring out their aluminum chairs for a spell, Avenue D Project kids chase each other on skateboards with squirt guns, and long time tenants sit on their stoops for casual conversation instead of closing out the roar of the babes and their boys beneath our windows every night.
And the revelers sleep it off without foot traffic interruption.
This is the New York I like.
But is this three month stillness enough to sustain the school year?
And the revelers sleep it off without foot traffic interruption.
(Dave on 7th)
This is the New York I like.
But is this three month stillness enough to sustain the school year?
Monday, June 18, 2012
Thankful For My Citizenship
"I beg young people to travel. If you don’t have a passport, get one. Take a summer, get a backpack and go to Delhi, go to Saigon, go to Bangkok, go to Kenya. Have your mind blown. Eat interesting food. Dig some interesting people. Have an adventure. Be careful. Come back and you’re going to see your country differently, you’re going to see your president differently, no matter who it is. Music, culture, food, water. Your showers will become shorter. You’re going to get a sense of what globalization looks like. It’s not what Tom Friedman writes about; I’m sorry. You’re going to see that global climate change is very real. And that for some people, their day consists of walking 12 miles for four buckets of water. And so there are lessons that you can’t get out of a book that are waiting for you at the other end of that flight. A lot of people—Americans and Europeans—come back and go, Ohhhhh. And the light bulb goes on."
Henry Rollins 2011
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Proverbial Forest For The Lack Of Trees
"No, I said I am getting well versed in making rash decisions. Not rational."
A snippet of hurried conversation with a dear friend and neighbor when responding to why the swollen growth on my knee that was inhibiting my movement and hinging of my leg wasn't getting any of my attention.
****
Steinbeck resided in New York City the last decades of his life with regular breaks of romantic country living in Sag Harbor.
I can only think he was alluding to this grand city, although unspoken, when he wrote this passage I completely embody and empathize.
The context is the wide open silence of a country road in our beautiful nation:
"There in the quiet with the wind flicking tree's branches and distorting the water's mirror, I...could finally come to think about what I had seen and try to arrange some pattern of thought to accommodate the teeming crows of my seeing and hearing...You are so crushed with the numbers, once the might of greatness, that you go away distressed, with a feeling of constipation. And then when you are alone and remembering, the canvases sort themselves out, some are eliminated by your taste of your limitations, but others stand up clear and clean. Then you can go back to look at one thing untroubled by the shouts of the multitude."
John Steinbeck
My Travels With Charley
A snippet of hurried conversation with a dear friend and neighbor when responding to why the swollen growth on my knee that was inhibiting my movement and hinging of my leg wasn't getting any of my attention.
****
Steinbeck resided in New York City the last decades of his life with regular breaks of romantic country living in Sag Harbor.
I can only think he was alluding to this grand city, although unspoken, when he wrote this passage I completely embody and empathize.
The context is the wide open silence of a country road in our beautiful nation:
"There in the quiet with the wind flicking tree's branches and distorting the water's mirror, I...could finally come to think about what I had seen and try to arrange some pattern of thought to accommodate the teeming crows of my seeing and hearing...You are so crushed with the numbers, once the might of greatness, that you go away distressed, with a feeling of constipation. And then when you are alone and remembering, the canvases sort themselves out, some are eliminated by your taste of your limitations, but others stand up clear and clean. Then you can go back to look at one thing untroubled by the shouts of the multitude."
John Steinbeck
My Travels With Charley
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Lord I Love You...But Despondency is Bringing me Down
"It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man." Psalm 118:8
I can't remember the last time the sun rose and set and I didn't have a consolatory drink.
I knew I was relying heavily on the hand to mouth sedative when my doctor pulled out her script pad, wrote me 4-5 and I told her wine was just fine. Or neat bourbon. Or a good freezing cold craft beer I can pour over an icy mug in the privacy of my own home, swallow it in silence, and it won't go down on my permanent record.
Today's a less offensive dose. Just a splash of California Chardonnay. Two ladylike ice cubes clink the side of the glass and mask the phony taste of butter and oak. It's cheap. Well, by New York standards.
June is window's wide open month, and the roar of the crazed and their cigarette stench rises up to meet me.
A steady rain soaks the head of a sidewalk greeter, feigning adoration of the person standing across from her under a saturated umbrella.
Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe their joyful embrace and loud outcry is a true reflection of their innermost feelings and their relationship does have meaningful importance.
I am a cynic after all.
My relationships have done that to me. I guess I've let them. Too damn accommodating.
Maybe one day I'll write about the sheer dysfunction and lack of dependence that has been shaping my ideas of women since I was a wee one.
Maybe one day, my sides will ache with laughter all the way to self satisfaction and the all mighty dollar affirmation in the exposure of it all.
The title could be Cowards. Or another C word I am fond of.
But tonight, it's Christ and Chardonnay in which I'm leaning.
Who or What have you found you can truly rely on?
I can't remember the last time the sun rose and set and I didn't have a consolatory drink.
I knew I was relying heavily on the hand to mouth sedative when my doctor pulled out her script pad, wrote me 4-5 and I told her wine was just fine. Or neat bourbon. Or a good freezing cold craft beer I can pour over an icy mug in the privacy of my own home, swallow it in silence, and it won't go down on my permanent record.
Today's a less offensive dose. Just a splash of California Chardonnay. Two ladylike ice cubes clink the side of the glass and mask the phony taste of butter and oak. It's cheap. Well, by New York standards.
June is window's wide open month, and the roar of the crazed and their cigarette stench rises up to meet me.
A steady rain soaks the head of a sidewalk greeter, feigning adoration of the person standing across from her under a saturated umbrella.
Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe their joyful embrace and loud outcry is a true reflection of their innermost feelings and their relationship does have meaningful importance.
I am a cynic after all.
My relationships have done that to me. I guess I've let them. Too damn accommodating.
Maybe one day I'll write about the sheer dysfunction and lack of dependence that has been shaping my ideas of women since I was a wee one.
Maybe one day, my sides will ache with laughter all the way to self satisfaction and the all mighty dollar affirmation in the exposure of it all.
The title could be Cowards. Or another C word I am fond of.
But tonight, it's Christ and Chardonnay in which I'm leaning.
Who or What have you found you can truly rely on?
Monday, June 11, 2012
Come November...That's When It Matters
WHEN - he refused to disclose who donated money to his election
campaign, as other candidates had done, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he received endorsements from people like Louis Farrakhan,
Muramar Kaddafi and Hugo Chavez, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - it was pointed out that he was a total newcomer and had
absolutely no experience at anything except community organizing, people
said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he chose friends and acquaintances such as Bill Ayers and
Bernadine Dohrn who were revolutionary radicals, people said it didn't
matter.
WHEN - his voting record in the Illinois Senate and in the U.S. Senate
came into question, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he refused to wear a flag lapel pin and did so only after a
public outcry, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he stood with his hands over his groin area for the playing of
the National Anthem and Pledge of Allegiance, people said it didn't
matter.
WHEN - he surrounded himself in the White House with advisors who were
pro-gun control, pro-abortion, pro-homosexual marriage and wanting to
curtail freedom of speech to silence the opposition, people said it
didn't matter.
WHEN - his personal background was either scrubbed or hidden and nothing
could be found about him, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - the place of his birth was called into question, and he refused
to produce a birth certificate, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he had an association in Chicago with Tony Rezco - a man of
questionable character and who is now in prison and had helped Obama to
a sweet deal on the purchase of his home - people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - it became known that George Soros, a multi-billionaire Marxist,
spent a ton of money to get him elected, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he started appointing White House Czars that were radicals,
revolutionaries, and even avowed Marxist /Communists, people said it
didn't matter.
WHEN - he stood before the Nation and told us that his intentions were
to "fundamentally transform this Nation" into something else, people
said it didn't matter.
WHEN - it became known that he had trained ACORN workers in Chicago and
served as an attorney for ACORN, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he appointed cabinet members and several advisers who were tax
cheats and socialists, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he appointed a Science Czar, John Holdren, who believes in forced
abortions, mass sterilizations and seizing babies from teen mothers,
people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he appointed Cass Sunstein as Regulatory Czar who believes in
"Explicit Consent," harvesting human organs without family consent and
allowing animals to be represented in court, while banning all hunting,
people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he appointed Mark Lloyd as Diversity Czar who believes in
curtailing free speech, taking from one and giving to another to spread
the wealth, who supports Hugo Chavez, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - Valerie Jarrett, an avowed Socialist, was selected as Obama's
Senior White House Advisor, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - Anita Dunn, White House Communications Director, said Mao Tse
Tung was her favorite philosopher and the person she turned to most for
inspiration, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he appointed Carol Browner, a well known socialist as Global
Warming Czar working on Cap and Trade as the nation's largest tax,
people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he appointed Van Jones, an ex-con and avowed Communist as Green
Energy Czar, who since had to resign when this was made known, people
said it didn't matter.
WHEN - Tom Daschle, Obama's pick for Health and Human Services Secretary
could not be confirmed because he was a tax cheat, people said it didn't
matter.
WHEN - as President of the United States , he bowed to the King of Saudi
Arabia, people said it didn't matter..
WHEN - he traveled around the world criticizing America and never once
talking of her greatness, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - his actions concerning the Middle East seemed to support the
Palestinians over Israel, our long time ally, people said it didn't
matter.
WHEN - he took American tax dollars to resettle thousands of
Palestinians from Gaza to the United States, people said it didn't
matter.
WHEN - he upset the Europeans by removing plans for a missile defense
system against the Russians, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he played politics in Afghanistan by not sending troops early-on
when the Field Commanders said they were necessary to win, people said
it didn't matter.
WHEN - he started spending us into a debt that was so big we could not
pay it off, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he took a huge spending bill under the guise of stimulus and used
it to pay off organizations, unions, and individuals that got him
elected, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he took over insurance companies, car companies, banks, etc.,
people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he took away student loans from the banks and put it through the
government, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he designed plans to take over the health care system and put it
under government control, people said it didn't matter.
WHEN - he claimed he was a Christian during the election and tapes were
later made public that showed Obama speaking to a Muslim group and
'stating' that he was raised a Muslim, was educated as a Muslim, and is
still a Muslim, people said it didn't matter.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Get A Grip, Now Loosen It
"Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” Acts 2:36
Changeableness.
Ambiguous in spelling and meaning.
But precisely the state of feeling in which I perpetually dwell.
As much as I persuade myself I want to flee New York and its inhabitants, I find a healthy dose of peace here that could be dangerously construed as contentment.
My search for certainty appears to be solved momentarily...
But the last time, I got the urge for going, I didn't.
And it cost me an inheritance, a five year litigation, my serotonin levels, and faith in my husband's eyes that I still possess an easy going attitude he fell in love with.
So I question and say things like this:
"But there aren't jobs out there."
Outside of these four elusive walls that contain me and set me free simultaneously; Where a phone call for medical marijuana and hot roasted garlic Ramen is ten digits away, if I find the energy to expend my index finger towards the superfluous. Or if I want to work the sunlight and sanity away because depositing paper into a financial institution gives me some sort of solace that interacting with the public and my problems doesn't.
I'm losing my edge. Not because it is becoming duller. But because my rational choice making is becoming dimmer. And I can't block out the loud darkness that permeates the streets and radiates in my mind for enough time to hear my feelings.
To know what is certain.
To be steadfast in what that is...
This is my next feat.
"New York has a trip-hammer vitality which drives you insane with restlessness if you have no inner stabilizer." Henry Miller
And it just so happens, it has a hold on my rock n rolling, nauseating emotions.
Changeableness.
Ambiguous in spelling and meaning.
But precisely the state of feeling in which I perpetually dwell.
As much as I persuade myself I want to flee New York and its inhabitants, I find a healthy dose of peace here that could be dangerously construed as contentment.
My search for certainty appears to be solved momentarily...
But the last time, I got the urge for going, I didn't.
And it cost me an inheritance, a five year litigation, my serotonin levels, and faith in my husband's eyes that I still possess an easy going attitude he fell in love with.
So I question and say things like this:
"But there aren't jobs out there."
Outside of these four elusive walls that contain me and set me free simultaneously; Where a phone call for medical marijuana and hot roasted garlic Ramen is ten digits away, if I find the energy to expend my index finger towards the superfluous. Or if I want to work the sunlight and sanity away because depositing paper into a financial institution gives me some sort of solace that interacting with the public and my problems doesn't.
I'm losing my edge. Not because it is becoming duller. But because my rational choice making is becoming dimmer. And I can't block out the loud darkness that permeates the streets and radiates in my mind for enough time to hear my feelings.
To know what is certain.
To be steadfast in what that is...
This is my next feat.
"New York has a trip-hammer vitality which drives you insane with restlessness if you have no inner stabilizer." Henry Miller
And it just so happens, it has a hold on my rock n rolling, nauseating emotions.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
A Hard Lesson (For Family) To Learn
"When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom." Proverbs 11:2
Familiarity breeds contempt:
A life long experience of someone or something can make one so aware of the faults as to be scornful, spiteful, and downright mean.
A life long experience of someone or something can make one so aware of the faults as to be scornful, spiteful, and downright mean.
Leaving them alone, angry, and hurt.
But ultimately, just alone.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
In My Absence
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." Thoreau
In my best attempt to fall off the beaten track of a constant life of conflict, with blinking red lights that remind me there is a world out there that demands my attention and understanding, I have succumbed to the pressure of focusing my thoughts toward a miniature screen and sticky keyboard and away from the natural, present movement in front of me.
I do this out of some sort of nudging obligation that says I'm needed, I'm missed, something else is more important...
Instead of diving head first into the saltiness of an escape and letting it wash over me with a simplistic wildness that screams "It's Your Life", I begrudgingly operate the wheel in the direction of someone else's priorities.
This is a minor sickness.
Won't you help me get well?
In my best attempt to fall off the beaten track of a constant life of conflict, with blinking red lights that remind me there is a world out there that demands my attention and understanding, I have succumbed to the pressure of focusing my thoughts toward a miniature screen and sticky keyboard and away from the natural, present movement in front of me.
I do this out of some sort of nudging obligation that says I'm needed, I'm missed, something else is more important...
Instead of diving head first into the saltiness of an escape and letting it wash over me with a simplistic wildness that screams "It's Your Life", I begrudgingly operate the wheel in the direction of someone else's priorities.
This is a minor sickness.
Won't you help me get well?
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Doubt Is Loud
"A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench." Matthew 12:20
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Progress
Searching for my own inspiration as tonight's shadows spread across the streets of Queens, NY.
"Boy, the way Glen Miller played. Songs that made the Hit Parade. Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days! Didn't need no welfare state. Everybody pulled his weight Gee, our old LaSalle ran great. Those were the days!
And you knew where you were then! Girls were girls and men were men. Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again. People seemed to be content. Fifty dollars paid the rent. Freaks were in a circus tent. Those were the days!
Take a little Sunday spin, go to watch the Dodgers win. Have yourself a dandy day that cost you under a fin. Hair was short and skirts were long. Kate Smith really sold a song.
But couldn't seem to shake these profound words.
"Boy, the way Glen Miller played. Songs that made the Hit Parade. Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days! Didn't need no welfare state. Everybody pulled his weight Gee, our old LaSalle ran great. Those were the days!
And you knew where you were then! Girls were girls and men were men. Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again. People seemed to be content. Fifty dollars paid the rent. Freaks were in a circus tent. Those were the days!
Take a little Sunday spin, go to watch the Dodgers win. Have yourself a dandy day that cost you under a fin. Hair was short and skirts were long. Kate Smith really sold a song.
I don't know just what went wrong!
Those Were the Days!"
I just don't know what went wrong.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Life of Leisure
Exhale. At the edge of my street in the dull murmur of a rainy night.
My legs ache . A sign of standing for a living.
Also a sign that I strolled silently across Manhattan at tonight's end.
It took the growing puddles, glistening in the dim lights of quaint West 13th. to reflect back at me the constant stir of motion and motivation that flows through this city like fluid.
I've missed it.
This visual of time...passing.
In this revealing of others, playing out their lives during the bathing of our spring sidewalks and my hooded head, I realized this is precisely how writers, write.
They examine life around them at a slower pace than the express train to the Bronx or the ticking clock of a production's schedule. They make the moments to observe amongst the contented and dreamers. They join them. And drink.
This evening, in the 12th hour. They called a wrap on me. Done. Law and Order SVU Season 13.
More the wiser, definitely more the whinier.
But now I have the time, in a simply fantastic city, to muse.
My legs ache . A sign of standing for a living.
Also a sign that I strolled silently across Manhattan at tonight's end.
It took the growing puddles, glistening in the dim lights of quaint West 13th. to reflect back at me the constant stir of motion and motivation that flows through this city like fluid.
I've missed it.
This visual of time...passing.
In this revealing of others, playing out their lives during the bathing of our spring sidewalks and my hooded head, I realized this is precisely how writers, write.
They examine life around them at a slower pace than the express train to the Bronx or the ticking clock of a production's schedule. They make the moments to observe amongst the contented and dreamers. They join them. And drink.
This evening, in the 12th hour. They called a wrap on me. Done. Law and Order SVU Season 13.
More the wiser, definitely more the whinier.
But now I have the time, in a simply fantastic city, to muse.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Move On Back Two Squares
"But as for me, my prayer is to you, O LORD. At an acceptable time, O God, in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness." Psalm 69:13
Oh hear my cry.
Not even ten months living in hour long, dramatic episodic television could prepare me for the agonizing decision to give up my Manhattan sublet to the wolves and blindly begin the painful search for the next corner of the my life, wherever that may be.
Either following Goethe's advice:
"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back--
Either following Goethe's advice:
"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back--
Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now."
or Woody Allen's plan:
"Right now it's only a notion, but I think I can get the money to make it into a concept, and later turn it into an idea."
or Woody Allen's plan:
"Right now it's only a notion, but I think I can get the money to make it into a concept, and later turn it into an idea."
Sunday, May 13, 2012
I'll Act Natural...He'll Do the Super
"As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead." James 2:28
Three more days left in the season.
I'm doing the ordinary, so my Lord in heaven can do the extraordinary.
And I'm praying I see His vision.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Sinatra Said It Best
"So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it." Isaiah 55:11
Purpose.
That word rears its head in the strangest of mind sorts.
On a relatively still night, high on fermented grapes, and watching a Best Little Whorehouse in Texas promo, I feel a nostalgic pull.
Well, I said strange, didn't I?
The kind of knocking on my heart that has me remembering my youth and where I've come from.
The sound of my Mama's voice singing 'You Are A Promise' resonates as much now as it did then.
I see the dizzying left and right turns I have made to guide me to where I am . And to who I am.
I hear the voice within me that has told me if I'm close or I've gotten off track yet again.
I think about these years in New York. The sacrifice. The risk.
And all of the necessity it took for this time to happen.
I examine the unfolding ride of Law and Order's 13th season and how I had to endure it and why I was given the opportunity out of so many, to experience it.
I look at what I said I would do. And that I did it fully.
Now, I sit with the unknown of what lays ahead and question why my muscles have to tear, just to rebuild, to conquer the next hill.
Or mountain.
"I planned each charted course. Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this I did it my way." Frank
What's next?
Purpose.
That word rears its head in the strangest of mind sorts.
On a relatively still night, high on fermented grapes, and watching a Best Little Whorehouse in Texas promo, I feel a nostalgic pull.
Well, I said strange, didn't I?
The kind of knocking on my heart that has me remembering my youth and where I've come from.
The sound of my Mama's voice singing 'You Are A Promise' resonates as much now as it did then.
I see the dizzying left and right turns I have made to guide me to where I am . And to who I am.
I hear the voice within me that has told me if I'm close or I've gotten off track yet again.
I think about these years in New York. The sacrifice. The risk.
And all of the necessity it took for this time to happen.
I examine the unfolding ride of Law and Order's 13th season and how I had to endure it and why I was given the opportunity out of so many, to experience it.
I look at what I said I would do. And that I did it fully.
Now, I sit with the unknown of what lays ahead and question why my muscles have to tear, just to rebuild, to conquer the next hill.
Or mountain.
"I planned each charted course. Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this I did it my way." Frank
What's next?
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
My Chains Are Gone
"For do I now persuade men, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ." Galatians 1:10
Dear Friends,
I write this to you from a legendary advertising agent's apartment, overlooking the quintessential New York Chelsea Hotel. The neon sign is waning.
I am sitting on the black carpet of the sex lair staring into the infinity tub that stands prominently the middle of the living room. Various Karma Sutra statuettes, stuffed gold alligators, and phallic cobras provide the sexual element needed for a straight out of Vanity Fair/ Tom Ford photo shoot.
The back lit shelves of designer shoes lead your eyes to the wall of bay windows stretching the length of the space.
I can see open sky and a near full moon. The gold lame covered daybed is within eye shot from my perch and the scantily clad "18 year olds" are scattered amongst the black lacquered furniture. The featured Oil on Canvas of the Pope raising an embellished chalice isn't offensive until you notice the nervous gerbil on his shoulder.
Handcuffs sit on the side table and Fifty Shades of Grey the Trilogy is a close reach from the half empty bottle of Astroglide. It is midnight.
Though it may read like a pornographic prison in which I dwell. I actually feel free.
I apologize for the flat out lack of minor communication and simple musings. For the last 96 hours, I have been in a dusty squad room, excruciatingly small interrogation room, and a mice ridden observation room. Held against my will, being practically force fed pork ribs, licorice twists and crumb cake on an hourly basis and subject to the powers that be.... or as of this morning....powers that were.
One of our number one head honcho's legs were cut from beneath him this morning; With seven days left, a senior producer got his walking papers, leaving everyone with their weary mouth's open, wondering if their job is secure and worrying about whose ass they need to kiss to keep it.
Despite it's regularity, it is still quite the spectacle to witness how a man places his worth and fate in another man's hand.
When will we learn?
Sincerely,
A Wiser Me
* See for yourself....The Black Apartment...>>
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