I do not have ESP

I have an email from my daily astrology link that says "Do you have ESP?" They're going for the catchy title.

I don't. I just applied for a job, which I am very excited about, but have no idea if I'll get. I'm a crazy theatre girl, and this is a crazy theatre job, managing a national network of crazy theatre people. No idea who else is applying, but am incredibly anxious about such a possibility.

If I had ESP, I would know what would happen.

I don't know who's calling when the phone is ringing. Except when it rings "Sexy Back." Cause that's J.

I have noticed, however, that since I started drinking again I'm happier. I've just relaxed a little. Drinking does that to a person.

More chiropractic therapy. House is almost done.

JAZZ FEST is around the corner. Brass Pass is ready. I'll write more then. I promise. Assuming I'm not out living it.

Preliminary Exhaustion

I woke up this morning and both hands were numb; even left, which took a solid 5 minutes to awake. *sigh* So much for the adjustments.

Had a dreadful and long day at work, which has only just ended.

I did have a very rewarding bitch session with J, although I realized despite how hard I work, and how long I have been there (nearly 5 years!) I still get paid less than he does as an office PA. Granted, my hours are better, and hourly I make more than he, but...

He's a fucking office PA. I was running a theatre company 6 years ago! I could do his boss's job with a beautiful smile on my face and make everybody happy while I was doing it!

And then the dinner party is Sunday. And the house isn't ready, and I honestly know that I'll finish the food and everyone will be happy (and hopefully they will all have a place to sit!), but I'm already exhausted, and it's supposed to be the FUCKING weekend.

And did I mention that I realized today I really fucked up at work and almost missed submitting an application for our operating support from the state that would have lost us $50K, and that's way more than my salary, and they've fired grant writers for less. It's all worked out theoretically, but everything has to be in the office by 5 on Wednesday. Which means it all has to be done on Tuesday night. And it's not a ton, but its enough to be anxious about, and I already have 3 applications due that day, and

did I mention I'm exhausted?

Scamming

So I went to the chiropractor today. My carpal tunnel has returned with a vengeance, and I can't figure out how to make it go away, and M swears that a chiropractor cured her Meniere's disease many years ago.

So I get there at 9:15, and he's a very nice man. He is portly, but looks like all his weight fell about 3 inches too low - he is shaped like a babushka doll, which I could open up and find a smaller chiropractor inside.

He talks to me, and I tell him my whole story (and feel like I'm complaining - which I always do), and he does his physical exam. Then he takes some x-rays of my neck and pelvis/low back to get an idea. Turns out my lower back is beautiful. Straight from the front, with a beautiful curvature. The way all lumbar/sacral spines should look. I am very proud of my spine.

My neck, however, is a different story. From the front, the vertebrae are ever so crooked. The profile shows an almost straight line; but, alas! My cervical spine should have the same beautiful curvature as my lumbar! Shoot! What's wrong with me?

So Dr.M has confirmed his theory that there's something in my neck causing the carpal tunnel, and proceeds to make his adjustment. The first is the very bottom of my spine - right above my sacrum it seems. He's just chatting away, and lays me on my side and I don't know what to expect and he's all sweet and gentle and SNAP. It's quick and nearly painless, like pulling off a bandaid. I'm greatful this man is so nice and M referred me, since he has already jokingly referred to a patient he could have killed by adjusting him with a hairline fracture of his C1 (atlas) vertebrae.

He makes a couple more adjustments, and then sends me in to have my IT band electrocuted, which the sweet nurse explains is more like deep massage than anything. It is not comfortable - feels like having a tattoo at its worst - but at the end, my right IT band feels... well, more NORMAL than anything. It feels balanced. This is a lovely way to feel, by the by.

I get one more brief exam, and he sends me on my way. $335 later I'm not 100% sure this is really worth the money, and not yet convinced that it's not a big scam, and that people who go to chiropractors aren't just in a cult. Like Waco with back cracking.

But I'll go at least one more time. We'll see. When I went into work the shoulder pain came back almost immediately, so I moved my computer monitor. Cost: $0.

Substance Part II

II. Living in the Moment.

This is a big topic. And I've been thinking a lot about it lately.

On Sunday, afterwards, when J and I were discussing, he said "They say it's good to live in the moment. I'm not so good at it, but sometimes..." Granted, this was his justification for our "casual" sex. I just wonder if its so casual. Although, on Sunday it was I guess. Casual enough for me to go have sex with someone else.

Religion addresses this often, I think; in varying and varied degrees. In yogic theory, being present is very important. I've always associated this with Living in the Moment (the elusive moment), but perhaps there is a difference. Christianity does NOT approve of living in the moment: one should live for the afterlife, although it varies from one denomination to the others. Not sure about Judaism or Hindu or Islam's take on this - but it seems they are all quite focused on the "next life". It's not so good for a society as a whole if everyone lives for the moment.

And is there a difference between living IN the moment and living FOR the moment. Living IN it implies that you do not think about past or future. Let go of all the baggage from the past, and ignore the consequences (good or bad) in the future. Just do, right now, what's right for you. Notice I did not only say do "what's right." Living FOR the moment; what's that? It implies that there is no future; you might get hit by a bus and whatnot. I guess the latter idea is a little more reckless, but they are both quite selfish.

This is why religion, and therefore society, do not like these "momentary" living strategies. It's important that we all take care of one another, and religion and all that strategy are designed to reinforce societies and keep us all living (relatively) happily and safely together.

But back to the yogic concept: be present. Discard the futile fragile things, and just boil it down to what's truly important. Be not unkind to people and yourself, and work towards oneness. That's oneness with yourself (being totally present) and oneness with the greater spirit. It gets a little woo-woo, I suppose, and I'm paraphrasing hugely.

I sent a drunken text message on Sunday Night to D, the true object of my affection lately, and I was beating myself up for it later. N said "What have you got to lose?" In the end, this is best advice I think. If you live in the moment and recklessly, you spend your savings and you "lose" your future security. But, "After a bottle of wine... when are you taking me to dinner?" doesn't lose me much, except maybe a little face.

I'm still not decided about whether sleeping with J is wise. But living in the moment it certainly was.

Substance Part I

Returning now to the previously interrupted thoughts.

I. Empirical Knowledge.

The problem with life is that you have to learn from your mistakes. You are taught from childhood to make mistakes, take the risks, and let the chips fall where they may. If you get the wrong answer, you learn to do it differently the next time. So, for example, poor N yesterday learned (again) that he really shouldn't drink that much. And, in reference to previous topics, A got burned by J, so she's gonna steer clear. Right?

Here's why this is a problem: Especially when it comes to interpersonals, there very often isn't a "right" answer. A knows that the last time they were together, J left her and "broke her heart." In his defense, she also told him in there somewhere that she "wasn't sure she was ever in love with him."

There are no "right" people, just like there are no "right" relationships. The decision you make is the best decision, because it's the only decision. But we've been conditioned our whole lives that there IS a right answer to every question. We've even been conditioned to what the "right" answer to THIS question is: the way we should look, dress, behave, talk, laugh. We all should eventually be married to someone of the opposite gender, and same race, religion, socioeconomic background and educational history. We should have a mortgage and 2.3 kids and drive a 7 passenger vehicle (even if now it's a hybrid) and live in the suburbs and commute and retire at 65 and play golf. That's a very White reality, but it's what we're supposed to do. That's "right" place to be. That's "success". It's success that drives the consumer driven machine that makes money the be all and end all.

Ironically, if you have enough money (therefore enough time) you can spend the time and emotional energy to figure out what "success" is to you. Maybe, like me, you realize that money isn't really all that important. There are things that are, like family, and passion, and friends.

So here, empirical knowledge is incredibly helpful. You know what makes you happy. You know who you want to spend time with. And this is where it gets tricky. What happens when your empirical knowledge is contradictory? Poor A still spends a lot of time with J, but has managed to not sleep with him for months. She has stayed faithful to her boyfriend, and all that seems to go well enough. But J still does make her happy, enough that she does still spend time with him - and it makes all of us happy to spend time with someone who loves us and is willing to put the energy in.

Unfortunately for J, the only thing A has learned empirically is that when they're together he hurts her, and when they're apart he does the work.

Monday Monday

I just can't drag myself into work. I'm exhausted. Who are we really kidding? I'm hungover.

So the blog that got started to talk about what it was like to be the sober one amongst our friends is now horribly tainted.

Yesterday was quite a day. Completely not according to plan, I had sex with J and N. Who's N? Where did he come from? He's been far on the backburner, haven't seen him in weeks. We haven't dated since.. last summer? Something like that. I am Not interested in dating him. At all. Honestly, he is lucky that I keep him on as a friend. Mostly, I do because it's nice to have a fuckbuddy who lives three blocks from you. Except then he said we couldn't have sex anymore because we were "too good friends." His real problem, whether he knows it or not, is that one day he will realize he is in love with me and I will sigh and pat him on the head.

BUT, the convenience factor is definitely there.

So I go yesterday to see J, just to visit, just for an hour or so. And I think we all knew what was going to happen, but he is hung up on this other girl, and I want to be a grownup who can keep him just as a friend.

Apparently, I cannot. Or I need to redefine friend.

Moral of the story is (still): I need to meet new people. Need to shake it up. none of this warrants the attention it will get. I wonder how it will all go when I ovulate. Ha! I am definitely afraid of that. Only time will tell.

But the dinner party is this Sunday! Can't wait for that....

Happy Easter!

You ready? Much to our surprise, it happened yet again. I begin to think that J and I will sleep together on every holiday. I did not intend to sleep with him: I intended to cheer him up, since A is still spurning his advances. Although, yes, she is in love with him, and Yes, she is afraid of him, but No, she has a boyfriend, and No, he did leave her before and hurt her very badly. If she is to learn from previous experience...

I set out to write this about something he said at the end. Instead I will write about two things.

I. Empirical Knowledge.

II. Being Present.




(time passes)
first drink in many moons.

I will write about both more when I have my wits about me. As it is, I have a 31 y/o child in my bed who needs a mother more than anything else. How long does it take before any of us know really how to take care of ourselves.

I think I have figured out the basics of that. I can eat, drink, be merry, get laid and whatnot. I have yet to let someone else take care of me while drunk. Sad state of affairs, that.

Amazingly, I wrote a very lucid email in my current state. Understandably, I sent a very predictable text message. If he were interested, he'd have been interested, right?

Sweet dreams, mi publico.

Easter Dream

I wonder if now that I can drink again, now that I allow myself to drink again, if I will stop waking up at 6 or 6:30. I used to think I did this in my old apartment because the sun came in the window. Well, that is why, but was a drinking then? I don't think I was.

This morning I was awoken by a nightmare of sorts.



I was traveling, and in New York. Vincent (left) lived there [I use his name only because we are not friends now, and this is a dream afterall], and we made plans to get together. I drove downtown, and came to the party where I was supposed to meet him and X [his real-life ex-], only to discover a huge building like an old department store, lit up like a rave but with everyone streaming out of it. I assumed the rave had been busted.

I park my car out front, find Vincent, and he tries to convince me to come to his house - except he lives across town, and I don't have enough time. So he drives around the block, and drops me off again so I can get my car. I may follow him to his house, or I may just go home. I wanted to be home by midnight, because I had an early flight the next morning, and it was about 10:15 by that point. Enough time to kill, but not enough time to do something.

So I get out of the car, and I can't find my car. Anywhere. I suddenly feel drunk, as if I had parked my car at the beginning of the night and am now unable to find it. First, I feel stupid. Then I see a taxi and a van pushed together, and elevated to height of about 25 feet. As if they had been raised on one of those magical parking lifts, except the lift was imaginary. I recognize the cars as being where I had parked my car, and I suddenly realize my car is stolen - with everything in it. Including my purse, with my phone and my wallet.

I see my bag in a box crushed between the two cars, and I think perhaps my things are there. These two black ladies arrive, and I think they are behind the whole scam. I start explaining to them, and they deny that they know anything. So I break out; I'm sobbing, hysterical. I tell them I'll claim the car and everything on my insurance, only all I need is my driver's license so I can get on the plane tomorrow: "All I want is to go home". I'm screaming, crying, begging - and I think as it begins to work, I wake up.



So what is THAT about? "I don't care about my stuff I just want to go home" - that's Katrina, through and through. I will never forget driving from Lafayette to Baton Rouge, and seeing the 610/I10 split, and realizing I couldn't go home. I cried and cried, for the first time since I got to Houston.

What concerns me: my car and identity stolen, missing. It was my fault, I felt, for leaving it in a bad neighborhood - without realizing it was a bad neighborhood. But also, I knew it could all be replaced. I could simply claim it in insurance - I wasn't going to try to get it back. Or maybe I would start over: but in the end, I didn't care. I just wanted my ID back to get on that plane and go home. Home Home Home. All's I cared about.

What we Talk about

In college, I was in a play/performance piece called "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." It was based on a short story by Raymond Carver. The play/story is pretty irrelevant, but the things it brings to mind, just as a statement... Well, that's what I'm thinking about today.

Ran the Crescent City Classic again. Last time I ran it () I ran pretty fast. This year, I was pretty fast, but not as fast. But close.

I spent after the race with two older married friends and a divorced friend. All three have kids who are just younger than I am, but they are all old enough to be my parents. Initials won't help today, because they're all Ms. Married M&M have a fascinating relationship; they've been together for 30 years and they bicker and are unhappy and have been on the rocks especially since Katrina but they'll never get divorced. Mostly, b/c she can't provide for herself and he doesn't have the backbone to leave her. Divorced M, on the other hand, has been thrown back into the fray with all the rest of us single gals. Needless to say, she promptly lost about 30 pounds and she looks fabulous, and... do we ever grow out of that?

Then I spent some time with two young(er) friends, again, still older than I am. J is 44, S is 30something. 32? And we went to a movie and then to dinner/lunch...

The remarkable thing about both experiences is how mean we all are to each other. Especially when sex is involved. Or "love". But also, we mock our friends. We give them a hard time. We tease. What's that about? We make little jibes, some are bigger. Today we almost drove S to tears; altho not teasing necessarily. J said some really not Nice things that hurt my feelings. I realize I am the sensitive one... but then I think we're all sensitive. It's just a matter of when we set it free.

So, instead of this "circle jerk" I've had with my girlfriends, why is it that we're mean when men are around? Isn't that the only difference?

Family

My brother is living with this woman in California. She's married to someone else. Her husband, C, also lives with them. And so does his girlfriend. My brother's girlfriend, S, calls it polyamory. My brother calls it being able to pick your own family.

There are all sorts of things to be said about my brother in his nontraditional relationship; and all of us that like to pat ourselves on the back will be thrilled that S & C are filing for divorce so that she and my brother can have kids. S recently confided in me that she had "grown out of it."

But the thing that really fascinates me is being able to pick your family.

There are a handful of people in my life, two to be exact, who I know I will know my whole life, and who are like family to me. They are, not unexpectedly, also my exes. My ex-girlfriend H is "still" gay, and has a lovely girlfriend (who is not good enough for her), and just asked me tonight "Do you think you'll want to move to Atlanta in about 5 years?"

Veritas: "I will never moved to Atlanta. That's about as good as Houston."
H: "No, it's better than Houston!"
V: "It's just one big suburb."
H: "yes, well..."

Her parents are probably moving to Atlanta when she's done with.. whatever she'll be done with then. And she wants me to be in the same place. And I want to be in the same place as her. I want her to be around my kids. Call her an Aunt. Whatever you like.

And then there's J. I don't have the same confidence in him that I have in H, but I know that I want him in MY life forever. And around my kids.

I have my "real" family too. And they're very special to me and close and all that. My dad and mom are two of the most inspirational people I know, for all sorts of reasons that I may or may not go into later.

I suppose there are things that I would ask my blood relatives to do that I wouldn't ask J or H to do. But there is nothing I wouldn't do for them. Is it a double standard, or would they just not ask for anything the same way I wouldn't ask them?

Sigh

clipped from www.nola.com

(AP) — Five fifth-graders were arrested Tuesday after an
investigation into allegations that students had sex in an
unsupervised classroom, Union Parish Sheriff Bob Buckley said.

The alleged incident took place March 27, at the Spearsville
school in rural north Louisiana.

The school, which Buckley described as a "quiet little
small-town school," has grades kindergarten through 12.

On the day the incident took place, an assembly for sixth-
through 12th-graders was called to discuss a stabbing death
in which a 15-year-old Spearsville student was accused. The
fifth-grade class of about 15 students normally would have
been supervised by a high school teacher during that time,
Buckley said. But the teacher was at the assembly, and the
class was inadvertently left unattended.

"After 44 years of doing this work, nothing shocks me
anymore," Buckley said. "But this comes pretty close."

Today

I called an acting teacher.

I bought and installed door framing. Makes the door prettier.

I got a 1/2" splinter shoved under my middle nail.

I breathed a lot. And deeply, especially after said injury.

I won a $25,000 grant.

I felt like myself again.

I smiled at a handsome dreadlocked nubian god at Lowe's. He was sweet.

I called J and he actually answered the phone.

I ran 3 miles and lifted weights.

I forgot how much it sucked to run in the heat and humidity.

I forgot I can't eat before I run in the heat and humidity.

I got an email from my friend, who doesn't know I slept with the guy she just broke up with. She told me to never talk to the guy she's dating about her. I was simply telling him to stay away from her. Good thing she broke up with him, huh?

I haven't done the crossword.

I missed my afternoon coffee.

I am nauseous at myself for leaving The Girls Next Door on the TV. I was at least vaguely interested in The 101 Hottest Celebrity Hookups. What have we come to?

I am annoyed with my neighbors who find something to complain about always. Now it's that businesses actually want to OPEN in our neighborhood, tearing down abandoned warehouses and building "box" stores. At, least, the box stores are the fear.

I flirted through email with A, the older man who I won't date.

I realized I was better.

I do not know if it is the medicine, hormones, or a little of everything.

Positivity

I've begun to realize that everytime I sit down to write something, it's negative. Perhaps I was just born too late to be sucked into the Power of Positive Thinking fad. When I come upon all these "negative" ideas in my head, they simply strike me as realistic.

J has a combat for my depression, which is simply to "Decide to be Happy." And this begs the question: where does happiness come from?

There's the old adage Happiness comes from within. And that's lovely and all, but why are some folks just naturally cheerier than others? I think J has got a point, and there is power in deciding whether you want to be happy or not. There comes a point, however, where I wonder if that hedges on denial. I can simply Choose to be happy, but it doesn't mean that I won't all fall apart in a month or so reduced to a sniveling pile of tears.

So where else? I do believe we have control of our own destiny, and that we choose situations and actions, and part of growing up and becoming a "whole" person is learning what makes you happy and doing that. So there are certain activities that make you happy. For me, it is a group of creative activities: I love cooking, gardening, acting, writing, renovating my house. Making something out of nothing. And other people make me happy; spending time, taking care, laughing, whatnot.

And this is where my depression comes in. Among other things, one of the primary symptoms of clinical depression is losing interest in activities that you once enjoyed. That's a great big problem if you believe you can choose how you spend your time, and if you choose to do things that make you happy, then, ta da! You'll be happy. But when you're depressed all of a sudden, gardening is totally uninteresting and feels like a chore. Acting becomes terrifying. You get the drift.

People never fail me. Last night, feeling needed and being able to focus on someone else's issues, it helped. That always helps. I wonder, too, if this is just denial - avoiding my own problems by burying myself in someone else's. The problem is someone has to want you around, and my depression manifests itself in an unrealistic insecurity that people don't. Regardless of what they've told me, of past experience, I sink into a place where I am convinced people just don't care. Not that they hate me; they just could take me or leave me.

There still is no answer to the damnable question, however. Where does happiness come from? And, I guess more importantly, where does it go?