...Talking with Myself...

I have a problem: I've started talking to myself. Okay, it's been a long time coming. But as I was walking through the theology library today, I noticed I started voicing aloud the titles of the journals along the wall. "Ministry of..." I mumbled to myself as I walked along. As I sat in the corral in a starkly quiet room, I said--not just in my head, but aloud, "Oh God" or "I hate...myself, no wait--" or sometimes I will just insert random people's names.

Why do I do this? Am I going crazy? Yes, maybe a little. More likely it's because I'm replaying all of the cringeworthy moments in my head, thinking about dumb things I've said or have been said to me, and feeling badly about myself. Freud tells us we relive our past/trauma through repetition; I just relive humiliating snapshots of my life, and then to cope with it, my mouth seems to open involuntarily.

E.g., Two weeks ago, I was rushing to open the door for my wheelchaired classmate, and I tripped on the stairs--in front of everyone in the bar (and I was stone cold sober--not one drop of liquor had touched my lips), and I lose my shoe, and I abandon my shoe to go grab the door for the kid in the wheelchair. Then another classmate comes right behind me and hands me my shoe. As I was doing work in the library, I held my hands to my face and said, "Oh God! I hate--" and then I had a moment of reliving that embarrassment, and then I had a new moment of embarrassment because there were a couple of people in the library and they all probably heard me talk to myself.

It's the verbal equivalent of clenching my teeth at night. Which I do. Which is why my dentist tells me I have so many cavities--I'm grinding my teeth down to nothing.

Annie, while you search for a solution for both your smoke alarm and your tangled necklaces, if anyone can offer a remedy for this annoying verbal tic--maybe I have Tourette's? There's this literary critic named Eve Sedgwick, and she talks about how a writer like Henry James--who, if you've ever read him, rambles on, and on, and ON as he describes one moment that in real time is only 10 seconds long--is kind of anally retentive--he hoards all of these wasteful bits that get back-loaded up within him (get it?). I in no way mean I'm anywhere on the same playing field as James (have you read his stuff? Economy does not a James novel make), but this "anal" reading of literature certainly gave me something to think about.

Well, off to NY Wed morn. Am trying to pack in all of my work before I leave, so this may (or may not) be my last post before T-day.

Toodles!

monday monday

first, i have to present this and confess... 

... that i brutally attacked my smoke alarm last night.  you may not believe this, but the thing is still actually attached to the wall. underneath is a pot-holder, which i nestled into a space (after yanking the top part of the alarm off) to pad any remaining smoke-smell, but also... well, i dont know why. i was frustrated, and i forgot about it, and i cut my hand open in the fiasco. in fact, i didnt even realize where that pot holder was until about 15 minutes later when i had to take my roasting eggplant out of the oven.  go figure.

this morning i had a doctors appt over at mount sinai, miami beach edition. they told me on the phone how to get there, and i left 35 minutes for a 10 minute drive, but i still barely made it on time. it was a hugeeeee complex, which i guess in retrospect is normal for a hospital (come on annie), but i wasnt really expecting it to be so complicated. i parked first at the "foundation" building, which is apparently just offices; then got lost at a service entrance; then made it to the real complex, but had to back out of a parking area because it was too far away and almost hit the person behind me (of course i didnt look before i put the car in reverse); then i finally made it to a parking garage, where i had to PAY $5 to park. i mean, what??? of course, i also happened to park as far away from the building where i needed to be as possible, and instead, walked into the wrong entrance.  luckily, i found some guy in blue scrubs and asked him how to get to the "green pavillion" (no, the place is NOT color coordinated, although that would help- its just donors' names, so there is no rhyme or reason to the place). he took me through some top-secret "MEDICAL PERSONNEL ONLY" doors, which i was a little hesitant about, but hey, you know. he was wearing scrubs.   wholly exciting.

when i signed up with this doctor, i thought, oh how nice, she is affiliated with mt sinai, like heather(!) and thats good, you know, a hospital, thats safe. but when i was there, it kind of freaked me out. like, tons of people on stretchers going along the hall, to radiation, or surgery, or whatever, and then theres me, looking like a total nerd in khakis (please, i know, its my second time ever wearing these pants in like 3 years) and a button down shirt and a sweater and gold shoes, with my patent leather barneys handbag, looking around for my drs office.  i was probably everything these people hated- healthy and annoyingly going to work.  the whole scene was disturbing.  not to mention, im sure, full of germs. but you know, it does make you appreciate not being sick, having your health, and thankful that you are not in the hospital to visit a sick friend or relative, so, in retrospect, it wasnt a horrible thing. 

in fact, once i got into the drs office, all calamity stopped, i was wonderful, she was wonderful, and it was a great experience overall. i wont go into drs office details since (a) no one really wants to hear about that and (b) its gross/boring, but still.     i was also elated that she noticed i took vitamins and calcium supplements. she was like my bff! she actually said, "after reading your chart, i thought maybe you were in the medical profession!". i mean.... best compliment ever. (if only she knew how much artificial cool whip i go through in a week... maybe we wouldnt be besties after all). on second thought, you know what?! im not ashamed. they should add calcium to this shit, then everyone could eat it in relative-peace, sans any risk of osteoporosis.

another random musing here. you know when you do pilates or yoga and the instructor says something like, "move back your sits bones." they arent really talking about any bone involving sits. they are talking about the fat on your butt, your buttocks. they are saying, pull back your flabby butt so you can sit upright. i mean, i get it, "sits bones" sounds better, but i always feel like im a small child and they are pacifying me. i guess theres really no other way to say it without making the ballerinas doing pilates feel even worse about their enormous fat selves, but still.

i have a serious problem, also, that i would like to bring to light. i dont know how to organize my necklaces. this isnt a joke. if you have a way of hanging them in some way so that they dont get all tangled, i need to know. i currently am working on unknotting three of my favorite necklaces and its killing me that i cant wear any of them. no matter what i do... no avail. i considered hanging some from my light fixtures in the bathroom, but then thought better against it (im sure there would be some burning involved, or breaking the light fixture, or whatever. believe me, if it could happen, im sure it would). so... help a sister out here. with minimal wall damage. 

also, best discovery ever? using my photo printer to actually print photos! it is so easy & the pictures have been coming out very well. so now you can all know about how i am making myself a little ongoing framing-center, so i can hang pictures of all of you in my house and always have the buddies around. pretty nice huh?

ughghg the airconditioning in here is psycho. i have to go put on long sleeves.  did i just drink coffee tonight without knowing it? i need to relax. time to turn off the slutty desperate real life housewives of the o.c. and read about laura bush's pseudo-fictionalized life. 

xoxo

Way, Way Too Late a Night...

I got home at 4am last night. Just me. Where was Morgan? Fast asleep. For whatever reason, it seemed like a good idea to me to stay at this party till 4, just as it seemed like a good idea to not leave the party at 2am when my roommate Sheila, her friend, and Morgan were ready to take off. "Go on without me!" I called out, waving my bottle of Victory HopDevil.

We started the evening at The Elephant Walk, a French-Cambodian restaurant literally right next door to me. I was under the impression that it was a French-Cambodian fusion; alas, they had two separate menus-Cambodian and French. We shared this interesting appetizer that was like a coconut milk curry soup with ground pork, served with these crunchy sweet rice puff thingamabobs. I then ordered a shrimp with a light Cambodian satay sauce, and Morgan got the braised short ribs with noodles. I forgot to take pictures until after we were half-way done; by that point, our dishes looked a little gross. The food was good--it was a little pricey, I think, for what it was worth, but Morgan thought it was pretty comparable to NY prices. Maybe I've already started to change without realizing.



We stopped off at Audubon Circle for a drink, where we befriended the bartender, who happened to be Korean. I saw him there once before when I was having drinks with my friend Vince (which I blogged about earlier this month).





We told him the bartender were just staying for one drink, as we were heading out to a party thereafter. Anyway, he was really nice--he did a little impromptu wine tasting for Morgan, and then--apropos of nothing--he mixed up some free shots for us. "Thanks--what's in it?" we asked.

"I'm not telling you," he said. "But it's called a bla-ma--'blackout, makeout.' After you drink this, you'll go to the party and make out in the corner...with a guy." (I think he actually meant, "with each other.")

Kind of odd for a bartender to say, but hell--a free drink is a free drink.

Morgan and I downed the proffered shots; it tasted like Robitussin.

We then went to the party of this kid in the English PhD program. He happened to live 3 blocks from our apt, so it was very convenient. "This is just like a New York party," Morgan said, referring to the fact that it was all women and few men. One of the kids who lived there gave us a tour of the 5-bedroom apartment--it looked very pre-war chic. The apt even had a porch, which was actually very spacious. We asked him if they ever BBQ'd, but he said the apt next to them tried to do that over the summer and burned down their whole unit, and one of the tenants died. Needless to say, since then no one's been allowed to BBQ. Apparently the guy's ghost still haunts the next door apt. How tragic!






I swear, this pose seemed like a good idea at the time, once again demonstrating my poor judgment.

Anyway, I took about five billion more photos, and for some reason that eludes me, I decided to stay on until about 4am, where I was one of a handful of people left (WHY do I do this?). Then my friend Iain (who was hosting the party) got a call on his cell--it was Morgan. When he put me on the phone, she said she was worried, and I realized it was time to pack it up, pack it in. Thanks, Mom! No, but for real, I was very touched by the lengths at which Morgan went to track down his number, and to make sure I'd be getting home okay.

Okay, after thinking about it some more, I realized why I stayed till so late. It's because I work my ass off during the week--library, gym, library, home. That's it. So on the (increasingly more prevalent) opportunities to go out, I guess I want to "maximize" my fun-ness, just like I try to maximize my efficiency during the week.

I fell into bed by about a quarter after four, woke up at ten thirty, and then we met Christine and Sydney!!! for brunch. When we told them about Morgan's late night and my even later one, they shook their heads, grinning. "You single girls!" they said.

After a full day of not getting any work done, I now realize I am dead meat for class. So it goes!

wind-surf-sailing and other musings

everyone outside is doing it. walking down the beach, looking onto the water, you can see it: tons of people with kite-like sails flying high overhead, connected to their torso by a vest-contraption, using the sail & wind to surf the waves. pretty cool, and it looks beautiful in the sky as well. apparently this is what we do in miami when it gets windy in "winter".  i have already started seeing christmas decorations up around, last night when we were driving to the opera, we passed by a target that had all the palm trees outside decked in holiday xmas lights. dazzling, but surreal. it cant really feel like any holiday at all when im wearing a sundress to the market. (believe you me, there was still a wrap involved, but purely for those airconditioned-supermarket-moments).  

ive recently started listening to episodes of 'this american life' when i go for runs- it makes the time fly by and is always very entertaining. yesterday, for the first time, i listened to music instead which was almost as enjoyable. somehow, ira glass's voice just gets me through it so much easier though. i highly recommend listening to the pod-casts while doing anything- commuting, walking, cleaning your house, whatever.  yesterday i also did my longest run ever: 9 & 1/4 miles. it was kind of long, i must say, and slightly painful. i had to massage my poor little foot afterwards to stop it from cramping up. (and people say running is good for you?)

last night we went to a delicious restaurant in miami's design district, called michaels genuine food & drink. it was almost like being back in new york: the waiters looked bohemian-esque, with square glasses and scruff. a sigh of relief. after consuming delicious bits of braised octopus with a tomato-bean salad, and pork belly over kimchee, we headed out to see 'la traviata'. watching the party scenes, where all the ladies are dressed in huge bustling dresses, and the men are in tuxedoes and capes, and everyone is wearing little white gloves- it made me truly wish we lived in the 1850s. sadly, it would also mean that people would still die of consumption, which is what the lead lady dies of. i dont even know what consumption is. consuming too much goodness while wearing gloves? unheard of! we also made the startling discovery (1) this was the opera julia roberts & richard gere go to see in pretty woman; (2) julia roberts plays a prostitute in pretty woman (3) la traviata is about a prostitute with a heart of gold who falls in love. how brilliant is that? pretty woman has never seemed more intelligent that it did at that moment.  

just back from my little farmers market with another similar-bounty as last week. i tell you, i could eat eggplant and tomatoes every day and never get sick of them, although, i do wish there were a little more variety. cauliflower maybe? i guess i cant be picky knowing that it is local and the only other state that i know of that still can produce like that is california. then again, they have much more frozen yogurt in california, so, you know, much greater advantage than here. in fact, tangentially, i havent had frozen yogurt since leaving new york. maybe its a new york-california centric thing, but i was shocked to learn there are actually 2 froyo places here-- i just dont have the energy to drive 20 minutes to get to one. oh, the life of a lazy suburban-city dweller. the best and the worst.

somehow this post turned into more rambling than intended, so i think its time to finish my coffee and head out for another run.  perhaps it will put my head on straight again. (at the very least, it will allow ira glass to serenade me). 

xo

Snapshots Along the Freedom Trail

Hey guys,
Sorry for this awkward layout, but blogspot just changed their photo uploading function and I can't really give captions to each photo. Well, I could, but it's kind of annoying and there's a bunch of random code.

Anyhoo, Morgan and I did the Freedom Trail yesterday, despite the fact that it was 26 degrees, PLUS a wind chill; real feel temp was like 14 degrees. Fahrenheit. We were frozen by the end of the day.

Anyway, Morgan being the history buff that she is, and now the architectural history buff, began to point out Greek revival vs Federalist houses. Something about pediments and columns for the former, and rounded arches and no stoops for the latter. Then we fed her obsession with graveyards (WHO KNEW?!) at the Granary Burial Ground, which houses the decaying bodies of Paul Revere, Sam Adams, and John Hancock. Also John Hancock's servants were buried right next to him, but of course they got smaller headstones. Some of these photos might be blasphemous, but so it goes.


H
Morgan in front of John Kerry's 10million dollar house.


The poshest looking 7-Eleven ever. (Charles St, Beacon Hill)











PAUL REVERE HOUSE

hangover head

im not quite sure how it is possible, being that i only had two glasses of wine last night post-work, but my head is borderline exploding right about now.  yesterday, although i was steadfastly trying to stay at work and finish up a long detailed involved memo, two of my coworkers were heading out as well, and asked me to join them for happy hour.  one of the funniest things about living somewhere where everyone drives, is the need to "follow" the leader in cars, especially when you have no idea where you are going. are they taking a right turn? then take a right turn! are they changing lanes? then change lanes! and then that sneaky white car gets in front of you, and somehow you have to cut lanes and pass them again. more complicated, but kind of fun, like a game of tag.

predictably, our drinks last night were in a hotel, in a part of miami called "brickell." its full of yuppies in our general  age range, living in huge condo buildings, with bars/restaurants oftentimes occupying the first floor of office buildings- think midtownish? but of course, more spread out. the hotel bar was beautiful-- they all usually are-- and had a great view of miami and the ocean. drinks always seem to be at these hotels: they smell nice, they have bad service, great views and furniture, and overpriced drinks. while they had some minor happy hour (one drink for $6 instead of the normal 12 or 15),  i couldnt bear to drink a cosmo. i know, i know, they just feel so outdatedly desperate. no offense.

this morning, waking up with the headache, was brutal, but like most saturdays, i forced myself to make coffee, put on the bathing suit, and towel up down to the beach. it was horribly windy and cold. i know,  i know; a grand old 74 degrees isnt cold to most of you right about now, but while wearing next to nothing, laying down, with no protective cover, and harsh multi-directional winds blowing everywhere-- well, its a bit chilly.  the sun came out for a bit, so i bathed like a little kitten in the warmth.  i really couldnt bare not to, being that i am becoming a tanorexic. sick right? i wear sunblock of course and dont get burnt- but its just such a wonderful feeling always being on the beach. i feel like the bourgeousie.

speaking of, there was a bunch of middle aged women at the beach right near me- they must live/rent at the "canyon ranch" spa and "luxury living" building thats at the end of my block. this is one of those buildings that have permanent beach-lounge chairs set up, with nice cushions, and bright blue umbrellas, down along the beach.  also - predictably -- there is a young latin american man who walks back and forth on this strip of beach, getting the ladies towels, beverages, sunblock, or putting up umbrellas, moving lounge chairs, etc. i find it so antithetical to beach life. then again, i got a hoot out of seeing all these women giggling and catching up-- they surely sounded like new york jews recovering for the winter-- just being so LOUD in a slightly annoying but also endearing way. it made me think, awww, its kind of like, what maybe me and *my* girls will be like one day. staying at expensive places. having crushes on the young latin american men that we make bend over and move chairs for us. well.. ok, probably not like that, since its oddly colonial and dehumanizing, but you know what i mean.

tonight the coworkers & i are having dinner & heading out to see la traviata, the opera! i was delighted to hear that they were into it, since its one of those things i usually either go to with my mom or dad, or, although not recently, in central park with copious amounts of wine.  although i already have an aching pit in my stomach that the weekend is going to be over too soon, i also am extremely excited to come home and see everyone, relax-- even wear a coat. i know, what am i thinking? at least then i might think its not perpetually summertime in other places. (i feel slightly deluded in that sense). 

otherwise i feel at a loss generally of talking points. maybe i can resume later. i feel like today is extremely vapid but im ok with that. and good news-- the rash is gone! off for a run. patty- i hope you & morgan are having a wonderful time in the town of beans.

xo

Morgan's coming today! Yay!

I finished revising my short story; now I'm in a mad rush to shower from the gym, eat dinner, clean my apt, meet my friend Hahn for a drink, then pick up Morgan at South Station. More TK!

cheers, Patty