Vicarious Rising

Hollywoodized

I'm back from my trip to L.A. It was fabulous. I'll try to get some of my photos posted this weekend if anyone is interested.

L.A. is a really interesting place. Its vibe is not really what I expected: anorexized, plastic and cruel. People were friendly and seemed upbeat. I liked it. Can't say I'd want to move there, but I wouldn't mind spending more time hanging out.

Speaking of hanging out, my son spent about 15 minutes lounging around in the lobby of our hotel about 10 feet from M.C. Hammer and had no clue who he was until the hotel staff told us. No parachute pants to tip us off. Some megawatt white Nikes though. My son is so bummed he didn't get to touch M.C. Hammer. I told him he can still tell his friends he hung out with him.

Mr. Hammer was waiting for the valet to get his car and for the rest of his posse. Yes, he did have a posse. They all seemed like pretty well behaved posse people, including the Hammer-man himself. They all drove off in a big black hummer with the license tag "LOOK 3Xs". No comment about that cause it would be rude to say anything about flagging careers. It would've done Mr. Hammer good to introduce himself to the 13 year old to get a fan in the new generation.

As if.

One funny thing that happened was when we drove up to the Hollywood Roosevelt in our chauffeured car (with a license plate that said DIVA, no less), a bunch of college guys were peering into the tinted windows trying to see who was in our car. I sat there giggling thinking how disappointed they were going to be. Considered throwing a jacket over my kid's head and rushing him inside. When we stepped out, one of the college kids said, "aw, it's just some chick." This made my day because I am very glad to still be considered a chick. He could have said, "aw, it's just some nobody" or "it's just some loser" or "it's just some slag/troll/cow/hag/bitch." I'll take chick with a big smile.

Oh, and because I failed to mention it, this wonderful adventure was the grand prize for a Burn Notice drawing. For those of you who missed the television show Burn Notice's season one last summmer, they just started rerunning the program on Thursday nights on the USA Network. It starts season 2 in June. I can't wait. My massive crush on Michael Westen has been soothed a bit by winning this prize, but I've been irked by having to wait so long for another fix of the show.

Because I am So Superspecial -- All About Me

The other day I declared myself positively boring on this very blog, so maybe I can debunk my own claim by filling out this self-absorbed meme. The amazing Lea Jacobson of Geisha, Interrupted tagged me. For those of you who haven't been to her blog, you should visit her droll diary of experiences as an expat in Japan. Also, Lea's memoir, Bar Flower, will be published in a few weeks. Click here to order it from Amazon.com. I pre-ordered mine ages ago.

Lord knows why Lea'd want to know anything about my upstate New York mom-of-a- teen-boy life. But, hey, I'll take any compliment I can get because I am that deprived and pitiful. Now that I have sufficiently lowered expectations, here are the sordid details of my secret life as a horny housewife:

What I was doing 10 years ago

Living off crazy South Street in Philadelphia and attending the Wharton school for my MBA. My son was 3-years-old and I was one of only three mothers in the grad program. This was out of a total of 750 enrolled. We three were the most exhausted of any of the students, and I am not saying this for dramatic effect. All the men with kids had wives who stayed at home with the kiddos during the program. My husband and one of the other mother's husband was also in the MBA program. The other woman commuted daily from Princeton, NJ so her daughter could stay in school there and her husband could keep his NYC job. Some days we three ladies would just bleerily eye each other and mumble, "no one else understands."

I hated, hated, hated business school. My drinking became an increasing problem. Everyone kept telling me I would never regret getting an Ivy League MBA, that it was a terrific opportunity and my ticket to the big time.

I should have listened to my inner voice that wanted out. Ten years later, all I have is the student loan payments (although those are nearly done, but Ivy League tuition? Pricey. Especially when you follow it up with quitting your first job out of school within 3 months and not ever stepping foot in the corporate world again.), an impressive diploma and dubious bragging rights that I drag out every so often to remind myself that everyone else does not know better than me what is best for me, no matter how pretty the credentials look on paper in the eyes of people who don't see through mine.

I did love Philadelphia, however. I miss the food there. Not the smell of South Street on Sunday morning, though. And I missed the Easter Zombie Pub crawl this year. Bummer.

Later in the year, went for a semester abroad in Milan, Italy. Was the only thing that made going to grad school remotely worthwhile.

5 years ago

Living in the middle of New Jersey (shoot me) and selling US made handbags to vendors in Japan, Taiwan and Korea on eBay. Was a surprisingly entertaining venture, although I spent all my earnings. Had stopped drinking for a year, but not in a program. Buried up to my eyeballs in pretending normalcy. Would pick up again in about a year.

1 year ago

Probably about what I am doing now, hanging out in West Palm Beach, Florida and blogging. My son keeps asking me to play games with him and I keep refusing despite the massive guilt trips. Yep. Same scene. Not a bad scene.

Yesterday

One change in this year's agenda was that I got to see my husband's grandmother from Iowa, who is visiting. That was a treat. She's a phenomenal person. She still handwrites letters, writing things as simple as: "It's 5 a.m. and there's still frost on the ground. The brown squirrel has been searching for nuts, but has given up for the morning. It might snow tomorrow. Made a batch of snickerdoodles and thought I'd send some to you. Made a pie too, from some cherries Wendi and I bought at the Barnes store, but pie wouldn't ship well, now would it?" I adore her.

5 snacks I enjoy

1) Popcorn (not microwave popcorn)
2) Wint-o-Green Lifesavers
3) Rolds-Gold Pretzels
4) Swedish Fish
5) Cheese and fruit - all kinds, even if I can't pronounce it - either the fruit or the cheese. I'll take jams, jellies, compotes, crackers and fancy breads too

5 books I like

1) My big, old dictionary that my husband rescued from being recycled or trashed (sacrilege!)
2) The Stand, Stephen King
3) Drawing from the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards
4) Any fairytale or mythology book from any country, especially by Andrew Lang, Ruth Manning Sanders, the Brothers Grimm and subsequent updates by Neil Gaiman, or any books with gorgeous illustrations, plus Roald Dahl
5) J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books (this feels like a cop out, but I did love them. there are many, many other books I have loved. I have a rather large library)

What I'd do with 100 million dollars

1) Pay off all my debt.
2) Finish doing all the stuff to my house and yard that I want to get done.
3) Get a new car. Probably a Mini Cooper. My 1999 Toyota 4-Runner has over 100,000 miles and is great here in snow country, but the CD player died about a month ago. That won't do.
4) Set up some sort of investment to live comfortably on and possibly generate some extra money to continually....
5) Give the rest to various charities and environmental concerns, local farmers, small business loans to developing nations, etc.

.....because $100 million won't be enough, but maybe in perpetuity I can do some good. But a girl's gotta live.

5 places I'd love to run away to

1) My Dream House (of course!)
2) Emilia-Romagna, Italy
3) Provence, France
4) Fiji - why not? Actually, I'd probably rather go some place in Asia or maybe back to Turkey. But not permanently.
5) Someplace beautiful I've never seen, but I'll know it when I see it. It's there. I know it. I need to travel more.

5 bad habits and pet peeves I have

1) Pet peeve: bullies
2) Pet peeve: people who write the word "then" when they should be using "than"
3) Pet peeve and bad habit: people who interrupt/interrupting people.
3.5)Pet peeve: being poked to get my attention
4) Bad habit: staying up too late and sleeping too late
5) Bad habit: picking at scabs

5 things I like doing

1) Writing, reading, learning
2) Drawing and painting
3) Cooking and gardening
4) Torturing my son
5) Just being

5 things I would never wear

1) Lilly Pulitzer clothes
2) Fur
3) Birkenstocks or Tevas
4) A blouse with a big bow at the neck
5) A t-shirt with hateful images or sayings

5 TV shows I like

1) Buffy the Vampire Slayer
2) Burn Notice
3) House
4) Angel
5) Dexter

5 movies I like

1) Moulin Rouge
2) Gladiator
3) Heathers
4) Jaws
5) Casablanca (anything with Bogie)

5 famous people I'd like to meet

1) Freddie Mercury
2) Joss Whedon
3) Angelina Jolie
4) Queen Elizabeth I
5) Jesus (and not because I am a believer, but, man, am I ever curious)

5 People I'd like to see fill this out

1) Confessions of a Serenephobic
2) Mantramine
3) Pat of Child Lost
4) Slutty McWhore
5) Syd of I'm Just F.I.N.E.

Can I Have Pasta Instead of Bacon?

"I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage, with my books, my family, and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post, which any human power can give."

~Thomas Jefferson, letter of February 1788

We are finally going to spend our first night in the new house. We now have cable and internet and have deemed the place habitable. I'm sure that is what Jefferson had in mind when he spoke of the simple life at home. After all, he certainly would not have done without his pen and paper and books were quite pricey back in the day. His idea of roughing it was probably on par with mine.

Id's Alive!

Cooking is a sensorial pleasure in which I've joyfully partaken since I was a very young girl. In first grade, the teacher would allow us to sign up to make jello or bake cupcakes in the toaster oven, and I signed up as frequently as anyone would allow. I'd also horn in on most everyone elses' dessert creation activity. I'm lucky I didn't get a cookie shoved up my butt. I wasn't overly fond of being sous chef.

Tonight I am toiling over a simple meal I learned in middle school home economics: stir fry. Actually, it's my Irish-Italian-Lithuanian-American version - meaning anything in the fridge or pantry is fair game for the wok. My family migrated to the U.S. partly because they were poor and hungry, so I blame genetics for making me practical with leftovers.

Normally, the chopping is enough to keep me out of trouble. I like the whole process of cooking, including experimenting. But when I glanced at the clock today, I found myself wishing that Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns were still on at this time of day so I could watch while I fry. Then I thought, well, since that's not happening, wouldn't a glass of wine be nice? Just like the old days.

Seeing as the the old days are apparently victim of selective memory, I'm going to chalk that stray evil whisper up to the full lunar eclipse darkening the skies tonight. I haven't thought about drinking in conjunction with cooking in a long time. Really, I'm lucky I only stabbed myself once with a large knife because of my alcoholic tendencies. And that was because of withdrawal not intoxication. Needed stitches, bled like a geyser, knife sunk into my left hand about an inch. Felt just like a raw chicken breast. My whole hand and part of my wrist turned dark purple. Pretty.

My husband bought wine for our Realtor and our builder to thank them for their work on our home. He left the empty wine case in the hallway of his dad's house where we are still lodging for a few more days. That fucking empty cardboard box is driving me nuts. I really need to throw it out. But for some reason I am tentative about touching it. The boogieman might be residing in that box.

Where's Buffy to slay my demons when I need her?

Chickens, Otherworldly Omelets, Going Off Half Cocked & Things That Seem Too Good to Be True

I'm knocking on wood and throwing salt over my shoulder the last couple days. I'm really not even all that superstitious. But, yah know, a couple days after saying some less than nice things regarding The Powers That Be, and some strange HooDoo's been going down in my usually boring little world.

Mind you, not complaining. Just in the Realm of This Stuff Doesn't Usually Happen to Me.

Oh, it's really not all that big a deal. I mean, aside from the whole delay in closing on the house, I won the Grand Prize for a trip to L.A. that I'd entered way back last summer for kicks. Airfare, swank hotel, dinners, a little spending money. Sweet.

Yes, I am 99 percent certain it is legit. But that's where the knocking on wood and TGTBT comes in. Who really wins these things? Not me, anyway. And it includes a meet and greet with one of the cast members of one of my absolute favorite TV shows. I guess it does pay off to be a goofball fan and sign up for things on their official websites.

And then there's that my husband may need to go on a business trip to Paris in the next couple weeks, and if he goes he has invited lil' ole me to go along. I love Paris. I can definitely be soothed about the delay in moving into my house by a trip to Paris. The other two times I went to Paris I was still drinking, although I can safely say I have never been drunk in Paris. Still, the idea of being 100 percent sober in Paris seems sort of invigorating to me also. Plus, there's all that Parisian food. Have I mentioned I like food? Oh... and baguettes, just baked and warm... heaven. My personal opinion is that French bread kicks Italian bread's butt. But I'd rather have espresso in Italy than coffee of any sort anywhere else. Mmmm... getting off track, but I do love food. Hence the kitchen and pantry in my house. My husband and I both love to cook. Which reminds me, I need to get some gym equipment for the rec room. I'm getting to an age where my metabolism isn't what it used to be.

I have no issues with The Powers That Be or The Cosmos and I am not counting eggs or chickens before they hatch or putting any of them in one or even several baskets. I'm not messing with any of the poultry products, and it's not because I am one big scaredy cat. I'm just thinking it's Thanksgiving time come early for me, and I might be one of those Presidentially pardoned turkeys.

Froid, Freud, Fraud

The television show "House," with Hugh Laurie starring as the ill mannered yet effective doctor, remains one of my all-time favorite programs. House holds a belief that 'everybody lies,' especially patients. Even ones risking death. How many alcoholics have told the true number of daily booze consumption?

For Christmas, because of the large outflow of cash due to the new house, my husband and I have agreed not to exchange gifts. But while reading a magazine, I saw an ad for t-shirts for the tv show "House" that had proceeds going to the National Alliance on Mental Illness charity. The front of the shirt had one of Dr. Gregory House's favorite sayings: "Everyone lies."

And I thought this shirt was the perfect gift for my husband. I also bought a shirt for myself and our son. I packaged all three together and had my son and husband open it.

In the wee hours of the night between Christmas Eve and Christmas Morn, I mused to myself, given the gamut of emotions I've run through this past year - what peculiar inner workings of my mind thinks that this House-ism is the most succinct motto for our little family to wear emblazoned on our chests?

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Dejected from the Driver's Seat

The faux smiley has faded today. I'm glad for it. Stepping outside of myself to observe the schism of behavior and emotion alarmed me a little. DKThinker wrote in my comments section that this was likely dissociative affect, and I think she's spot on.

I can acknowledge that there are plenty of reasons for me to dissociate. I still crack up when I think of my dad telling me that he has proof I had a happy childhood because I smiled in all the photographs. One episode of the TV show Dexter had Harry, Dexter's foster father, tutoring the young serial killer Dex to smile for the camera in order to fake normalcy to the world. I can't tell you what chuckle I got out of that scene.

The emotion that is rising to the top today is rejection. My poor feminine ego has taken a bruising. That's a tough one to tackle under any circumstance. And when I am trying to move forward out of a dead end marriage without falling onto the crutch of a going-nowhere friendship, it weighs all the worse. My will wants to run amok when the reality is that I am helpless. These two men cannot and will not do as I wish. I cannot make them love me as I want them to. And that hurts.

I've never really understood the popular AA saying "feelings are not facts." For some reason that platitude comes to mind now as a particularly unhelpful piece of wisdom that might be tossed my way. But maybe I am thinking that whatever I do, I should not let the feeling of being jilted and unattractive become my reality. Just because these two schmucks don't know how to appreciate what they've got doesn't make me a loser.

Yah. I don't believe one word of it. I need a cheerleader. Some really hot guy doing backflips for me would do the trick.

On the up side, it is a new thing for me to feel sorry for myself. I never used to have this sense of entitlement before. Yea me. I like myself well enough to throw a pity party on my behalf. There's a silver lining in everything. Can't say I'm not an optimist to my core.

What a Sweet Little Serial Killer

So, I'm a little sick of all my loquaciousness regarding my love life. For a change of pace, I've been doing a marathon of Season One of the Showtime series "Dexter." Dexter Morgan is a sympathetic serial killer. The show is devilish fun, and I haven't gotten tired of watching just the opening credits yet. Dexter's Foster father, Harry, has got to be one of the most fascinating characters ever created.

I just watched an episode called "Truth Be Told" that I found an awful lot to relate to. At one point Dexter is remembering some repressed memories of his past, and he realizes why he has become a sociopath with no feelings. He has a moment of clarity in a voice-over where he says: "Because otherwise I would have to feel... this."

I know what he means.

Don't Drink the Water

Nothing is safe from the addictive personality. Too much of anything can mess with your head.

This is not a particularly good idea for an alternative of drowning your problems, but apparently drinking tons of water can cause wacky things to happen to your brain. I have a friend who decided this would make a great premise for a sci-fi television series. If you're interested, please click on the link POLYDIPSIA and check out his short film synopsis for his show, which is a candidate for the upcoming Steven Spielberg/Mark Burnett reality show "On the Lot." The overconsumption of water can cause hallucinations and a high, and for the lead character of Polydipsia, this appears to be an addiction as well. Brandon Graham, the filmmaker, describes the potential television series as "one man's spiritual journey." It's a little trippy, to say the least.

Personally, think this is funny and has a lot of potential as a series. The guy who created this is an amazing guy. He and I are always talking about trying to work together on something, if we could ever get our shit together. I think we would likely scare the bejeezbubs out of people if we did. That's about enough impetus for me. Unfortunately he and his wife moved out to California and I hardly get to see him anymore. I really hope this project takes off for him. Maybe I could write an episode. That'd be a hoot.

So, I'm hoping his show will be one of those chosen for "On the Lot" for Spielberg. The shameless promotion here is because I love Brandon and because, horribly, polydipsia is a real thing. Yes, teenagers have been using water to get high too. Nothing is sacred. It's a weird, weird world out there. If there is something we can abuse, some human will warp it.