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mission accomplished. or whatever.

In here and now on November 8, 2009 at 11:11 pm

mt3-polaHey, everyone!  Yeah, I’m pretty ashamed that my last post was on OCTOBER 19! On the other hand, in the last two weeks, I have moved to a new neighborhood (in Philadelphia), painted/cleaned my old house (“The Ranch”), unpacked most of my ridiculous collection of clothes, fringe, and feathers, AND traveled to Portland for a whirlwind Halloween weekend.  And oh yeah, I’m working on this trip to Argentina (in three weeks).

But now I’m settled.  And I’ve managed to remove most of the white paint from under my fingernails.   The glut of dull menial labor in my life has allowed me to mentally write a few scintillating posts.  That means new content THIS WEEK!  I promise to take some time out from refreshing my Spanish skills and fretting about what to pack for my trip to the “Paris of the South (America)”.    Meanwhile, if you’re feeling bored, perhaps you could help me find/hang some curtains in my new bedroom?

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doors swinging wide.

In peeling an onion on October 19, 2009 at 10:00 pm

According to my mother, I have always spoken like an adult. Or at least, from the first moment I learned to string together words into phrases, big questions emerged from my little pouty lips.

“Why do we have to do things that we don’t like?”
“Why is being alone so sad?”
“Why is it easier to do bad things?”

My family attributes this to several solid years spent in the children’s ward at the state university teaching hospital in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Envision the standard sad “child with cancer” story: bald head, big eyes, and sudden frightening fevers. My doctor warned my mother that two outcomes were possible (assuming that I survived): either the illness would cause intense developmental delays or the constant attention and stimulation would turn me into a supergenius. Both possibilities were frightening.

I emerged with an intense dislike of carrot and raisin salad (a common snack on in the ward playroom) and the verbal skills of an earnest freshman philosophy student.

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back by popular demand…

In peeling an onion on October 8, 2009 at 10:25 pm

Yes, that’s right…I’m resuming “Peeling an Onion.”  It’s been a while, right?  I suggest either reading the most recent entry here OR re-reading the entire epic saga by choosing “Peeling an Onion” in the drop down box on the bottom of the  page.   So here we go…


I force myself to leave the house. Sure, staying in bed all day would be easier, but only as long as I am willing to replay the same mental record all day.

It starts off with “I’m such a fuck-up.” It’s got a catchy hook.

The next track–most definitely the single, the one true hit–”I can’t believe my boyfriend may or may not have hooked up with some guy who fucked me last spring.”

It ends with a crescendo of “I make the worst decisions that have ever been made by anyone in the history of decision-making.”

The secret bonus track goes something like “And I take stupid drugs.”

Listening to this all day could only lead to further miscalculation and error; binge drinking and regretful phone calls would be just the beginning. No thanks.

I’m blasted with Arctic wind and tiny bits of icy rain as I sail down North Avenue on my way to the the six corners (for non-Chicagoans: this is the intersection of North, Damen, and Milwaukee, the iconic “heart” of Wicker Park). Cold days like this were made for whiling away with mimosas and breakfast in bed. I’m a good soldier. Only those with the strongest fortitude bike around the city in December.

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