Vicarious Rising

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.

Giving Props

I'd like to direct everyone to The Junky's Wife's blog today. She has a post about happiness vs. pleasure in which she quoted someone else. I really liked what both she and the person she quoted had to say, and I think it is where I am today, or maybe better put, where I am heading. Learning to roll through the bad experiences is an equally important part of life. Trying to ignore them, numb yourself through them or avoiding them altogether isn't really living and will subtract from your ability to be happy and satisfied from your life. Or at least that has been my experience thus far.

Thanks, JW, for posting this.

Alcoholics Anonymous Blasphemy

Here's a new one for me. Someone from Iran found my site by googling "NAAKED WOMEN PICS".

Oh, Bill W. would be proud. When does the calendar come out?

The World We Live In

Just a quick update on my nieces: my ex-brother-inlaw unexpectedly agreed to the change in jurisdiction for the custody hearing from Kentucky (where he lives) to Massachusetts (where my sister and the kids primarily live) and also to the Guardian ad Litem being put in place for the girls. He also agreed to the guardian of my sister (and, it should be said, my parents') choice, which is a woman and a psychiatrist and from what I hear, quite expensive.

So, all of these things were approved in court, which is very good for the children and my sister's lawyer says is in my sister's favor. Personally, I am rooting for the kids, whatever that ends up meaning. My therapist says these Guardian programs usually are quite effective at looking out for the needs of the children. I am praying this will be the case here.

Thank you to all who left comments and made kind thoughts and prayers for these little girls. They are sweethearts caught up in the middle of a clash they should be being protected from.

On another note, I feel like I have a bunch of huge blog posts inside me, but not the time to flesh them out. However, I would like to direct people to Slutty McWhore's blog (formerly The Judgemental Whore, which I was kind of partial to, but she can be Slutty if she wants). Part of what's been going through my own head lately is what is feminism. In part, I've been trying to come to grips about what it is to be a woman, which is partly tied in to my romantic and sexual needs and how it relates to my marriage and even how it related to my failed friendship and the politics of my relationship with my parents. I shied away from my feminine side for most of my life, and I am trying to understand this better also within the context of society.

For those of you who have not met Slutty, she is a Scottish woman living in the US working on getting her master's degree and supporting herself as a erotic masseuse. She is a wonderful writer and quite outspoken, and I consider her a strong feminist voice, maybe not because of or despite of her job. Frankly, I haven't decided which. Maybe I just think she breaks the mould. And, perhaps, maybe that's what I think feminism should be about.

Shout Out to the Maniacally Gifted

Call me frenetic, scattered or just plain slothful, but I haven't had much time to spend on my blogging activities what with the limbo living situation going on. The contractor dudes keep saying "two weeks" until closing and I could have sworn that was about eight weeks ago, but progress continues on my dream house. I won't complain. Much.

One of these days I'll get some photos up here of it. Not that any of y'all care that much, but maybe you do and it is a work of art, if I do say so myself. We eschewed any decorator and I did all the hunting and selecting of just about every fixture, moulding and fiber with final approvals by my husband. And dammit if I am not busting with pride.

So, today I wanted to post a little link to an artist on Etsy who I ran into while looking for throw rugs. OK, it's a necklace and has nothing to do with home decorating, but her store name Etcetrix caught my eye, as did the name of her jewelry piece "Dexter charm necklace."

Being a fan of the Showtime program "Dexter," I clicked on the image to find this darkly wonderful design that is an ode to all that is that loveable murderer. I'm tempted to buy it, but I am afraid Christmas and my son's birthday has left my budget solely limited to new home purchases.

I hope the house will be completed soon and I will be able to settle into some sort of normalcy. Ha! Like I know what normalcy is. But I do miss being able to get on the computer for reasons other than hunting down lamps. As much as I enjoy preparing my nest, I miss my online friends and their words of that make me think and laugh. The lot of you are among the specially talented and dear to my heart. That sounded better in my head and I hope I didn't offend. You know who you are.

...awww... and he sings too...

I wanted to share this post from singer/songwriter John Mayer's blog. I like his music pretty well, especially Bigger Than My Body (and when he sings it, that fugly/sexy thing works for me... I saw him on Saturday Night Live and was like, "sheesh, that's a scary face, but it's sort of a turn-on with that voice and guitar). He's given permission for anyone to reprint his post, so here it is. Anywho, it's nice to see a famous person not being an idiot for a change.

UNDER THE (IMPRESSION I CAN) INFLUENCE (PEOPLE AROUND ME)

With Chad, Left, seated. (With glasses)


I'm taking to the blog today to share something with you that I feel more passionate about than I saw coming.
I want to make it short and sweet so that anybody who wants to re-print it can copy and paste without editing...

Went out to dinner Thursday night. My car. One glass of wine. Carpooled from dinner to go out to one more place. Everyone in my car. At the next spot, I do the Diet Coke with Lime thing. My favorite scotch (Lagavulin 16 year) arrives under my nose. "Can't do it," I say. Then I find out my friend has switched to Designated Driver and has a plan that involves everyone getting home safe. Cool. I love Lagavulin when the time is right. Now it's the end of the night and I'm feeling wonderfully buzzy and ready to get dropped off to my house in my car, except the person that was going to follow my car in the DD's car to drive him back isn't in shape to drive either.

It's 2 o'clock in the morning. I call my housemate Chad. Chad's sleeping. He was in the studio all day. I explain to him that I need him to jump in the back seat of my car, ride to the DD's car and drive me back home. Of course Chad says "yes" and comes through like a champ. A champ, I say.

Here's what I want to tell you:

If I, incredibly hot/fugly John Mayer can make that call, so can you.

The distance from the parking lot to my house was about 5 miles, mostly straight shot up the coast of Santa Monica, zero traffic. And I didn't drive it. Me. The guy who gets the VIP velvet rope treatment in life.

Oh, and the call? It's not the coolest you'll ever sound. And the logistics? It's kind of inelegant. You trace the same route twice when all you want to do is fall into bed. But you gotta do it.

This is all coming from a guy who you can be sure would have found a sexier way to get home if there was one available. And there just isn't, especially in LA. (You can be sexy again the next day when you wake up with the rest of your big, beautiful life in front of you.)

I'm not writing this to earn golf claps, it's just that if I'm going to stand in any way as an ambassador of something cool or influential, this is more important than any pair of sneakers or a guitar.

And to give a big high five to the Chads of the world.

See you around

JM

A Meaningful Life

Maybe it's all the horror movies, but I'm finding myself in a weird mood. I don't want to call myself cynical about my fellow human beings, but I can't quite think of a better term about my sense of people at the moment.

I don't think I am going to be able to explain myself well, but I'll give it a try. I've been lurking around the web, trying to find answers about love, relationships and intimacy (admittedly not the best primary resource, but it is the largest) and I've just found the whole thing fucking depressing as hell. While there are pockets of what I would deem genuine people out there, most of what I see posted out there reads to me like a bunch of trumped up hooey. As tame as my sex life has been, I have a very difficult time believing the rest of the world is getting as busy at it purports to be. Or if it is, how completely empty that it seems. Either way, it makes me feel pessimistic about people in a way I never have before. Are there really that many pedophiles out there looking at and hooking up with children on the web? Am I naive to think it's overblown in the media? Or are we really that deviant? The world is just run on cowardice, ego and nothing interesting. Definitely not sexy. No personal connections or greater meaning. It's seems about power and control and cheap slapping of body parts rather than enlightenment, freedom, affection and sharing.

Fuck. I sound like a lunatic. And no, I am not drinking. I'm just not finding the right words to express my state of mind. I'm trying to let go of some of my old expectations and old relationships but I'm also looking forward and trying to figure out my place in the world. I still don't have any sense of how I fit. I'm thoroughly perplexed by how people interact with each other sometimes, what desires we seem to be driven by. Our capacity to hurt each other is enormous. I still feel like an outsider, not knowing how it all works - and not entirely sure I want to play.

I need to believe people aren't as superficial and hedonistic as they are portrayed. But maybe I need to work more on not worrying about the general state of humanity and focus on the state of me. Sometimes when I do that, however, I feel like I am isolating again. I want to reach out, but when I look out there, it looks sorta bleak. There is no normal. People who aren't in recovery are the ones who just don't give a shit and aren't trying. Or something like that.

Something's bugging me and I can't quite put my finger on it. Not disappointment. Slight desolation? Hmm. I hate it when I can't find the right words. Guess I'll just wait. I think some of it is because my own eyes have not perceived my past relationships without distortion, and I need a vision check. I want to see the truth of things as much as possible. My hesitancy is warranted, but I don't want it to be chains holding me in place either. I used to have confidence in my ability to judge character. For some reason, I've lost that. I don't know what to expect from people anymore. I don't know if that scares me or just makes me off-balance.

I just want something real, even if it is scary. There have to be other authentic people out there who want to be on the same adventure. I've met a few of them here and there. But it seems like it is a minority of people who are interested in really digging into life. It seems to me the majority of folks use fear to build an existence without ever really being. People are more likely to behave in inappropriate ways than examine it and confront it. Maybe that's why I like horror movies. There's the boogeyman. You know what to do. The lines are clear. There's blood and guts rather than the slow poisoning of someone's soul. What people do to each other in our daily lives is more terrible to me than anything in a Saw movie. Hell, I think kooky ole Jigsaw isn't so far off the mark in making people appreciate being alive.

Then again, I always had a soft spot for the bad guy. I figured he had his own bad childhood. Nothing is ever black and white.

This is a pretty pointless post. It's like I want someone to explain it to me. Like I'm telling you: "here are the dots - connect 'em for me and describe what you see and by the way, the dots are in no particular order and don't mind me if I keep adding a few more points in as you work because I don't know what the hell I am doing." Yah. It's like that.

Honestly, I'm not in a bad place at all, but I feel like I'm on the tip of something. A discovery maybe. I need a shove over the edge. Or some lights to follow? I know I am not alone, finally, but I'm still bemused with what's out there, needing true friends.

Mind Readers Anonymous

I should have known that my blogging friends would help me keep everything in the proper perspective. Hence, my freak out has been averted. You see, this is why the "we" of alcoholics anonymous works: you share your hopes and fears with other good-hearted people, and they help save you from yourself.

Left to my own head, I would just sit around hoping someone would figure out that I really wanted to be nominated for a Blogger's Choice award for "The Blogitzer" category, and when no one did think that it must be because I am an absolutely horrible and unworthy writer. Conversely, if I nominated myself or asked a particular person to nominate me, it didn't count at all as a valid vote of confidence. Don't even ask about my internal debate about whether or not I should vote for myself.

I'm sure this way of thinking resonates with a few other people. I fear the sincerity of anything I actually have to ask for. Did you somehow feel beholden to me, afraid I'd never read your blog again if you didn't vote for me? Is this just a mutual back-scratching exercise, thereby rendering everything meaningless? Why did I ask because I know I can't possibly be that good? And my thinking snowballs. And they I get all this guilty feeling of "look at me!" that doesn't sit well. I start worrying about the inevitable criticism I am inviting, the lack of sense of entitlement I feel. How shy and protective I suddenly feel about my writing.

But then Meg writes, using the Serenity Prayer to make the point about having the courage to change and sets me straight. Reminds me that I am taking the steps forward in my journey. And Tab, who reminds me of the importance of keeping writing and blogging both rewarding and inspiring processes - my initial goals and the reason I write to begin with. And all the rest of my friends here, who manage to not make me feel like a dork and loser (or at least like I passed fifth grade grammar and composition) through their kind remarks.

All of this, it's not a popularity contest or about having people read my mind about what I want or need from them. It is about finding me and my voice and asking for support when I need it. I think I have come a long way towards those goals.

THANK YOU, MEG, FOR THE NOMINATION! I LOVE YOU! CHECK'S IN THE MAIL! 

Do You Like Me? Do You Really, Really Like Me?

One of the many things I am not very good at is self promotion. Wall-flowering is much more my thing. I really like letting other people shine.

Well, all of this is in a manner of speaking. It isn't so much that I am not proud of my abilities, it's more a fear of repercussions if I get noticed. At any rate, one of the things that I am way ahead of myself about in my dreams of being a published author is anxiety over the book tour. Projection, anyone?

Some of my blogging buddies have probably received Noor's email for the Blogger's Choice Award vote campaign for his blog in the category of Best Health blog, and that got me thinking about how I've been meaning to do more to promote my blog as a writing platform or possibly, oh, I don't know what. But certainly something resembling work rather than loafing around on my ass.

I really think the "Health" category is wrong for me in the Blogger's Choice Awards, but there is a category called "The Blogitzer" that is for the best blog writing. I hardly think I qualify as the best, particularly since near the top of the voting ranks is one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman. But, hey, reaching is part of my nature, and I've been pretty damn happy with the quality of my writing as I have gained confidence through my recovery. However, I cannot bring myself to either self-nominate or send out an email plea. This little post is my one bald faced hand up hoping someone will take pity on me and nominate me for a "Blogitzer" Blogger's Choice Award by clicking on the oh-so-conveniently provided link below:

OH-SO-CONVENIENTLY PROVIDED BLOGGER'S CHOICE NOMINEE LINK *CLICK HERE* => p.s. Thanks, Meg! for the nominatation!

Then, if someone does do me such an honor, if others will VOTE FOR ME, I will be forever in your debt. I have no idea of what that will entail. We can work out the details later, perhaps after my bestseller hits #1 on the NY Times list. Do we have a deal?

Please? [Here's where I sit and try not to get all freaked out about whether anyone cares. This is SO not gonna work. Freak out, here I come.]