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CREEPY GIRL CONFESSIONS – LEMONS INTO LEMONADE

September 26th, 2015

You know you are truly lonely when while riding the NYC subway you actually wish for unsolicited physical contact from strangers.

When I’m in my normal secure single girl mode I abhor anyone coming within 5 inches of my body. My daily crush hour commute sometimes traumatizes me being forced to squish against another human being. This year, while feeling especially vulnerable, I’ve opted to take the local train home. I can actually get a seat with the small fee of an extra 5 minutes added to my commute. My cats are now deceased which only adds to the crazy desire for the accidental brush against.

Therefore, when I’m lonely without any hugs for weeks……..my brain gets nutty.

It’s these moments that I wish someone would fall asleep on my shoulder while I imagine that they are my sweetheart. Or imagine myself saying, “Hey Mr. Man spread could you open a bit wider so I can get that full leg on leg contact?” Or shamelessly wait for the B train to round that sharp turn as I accidently let go of the rail, and fall into someone’s lap.

The possibilities are endless. My favorite imaginary encounter is when someone smacks you off your feet with his or her backpack; you return the favor by hugging the person as you apologize for your unsteadiness. No harm done. Return the favor works quite nicely for the occasional bump or rub. You bump me and I bump you back.

So, the next time during your rush hour commute when someone smacks into you, try to turn your anger into compassion. Consider that this person might not have gotten a hug that day.

Random rambling , ,

FATHERS AND SONS

December 26th, 2014

DSCN2666

I have once again retreated to the land of Fairy Tales. One day I am the Princess and the Pea, another day Little Red Riding Hood, but today I am Goldilocks.

Making my way through the Anthology of Grimm’s Fairy tales has given my no clarity whatsoever. I also find it disturbing that people call me by the fairy tale maiden names.

“Hey you, Rapunzel, get your butt over here, now!”

 

As Goldilocks it always seems that one chair is too hard, the other is too soft, and nothing is just right. I am referring directly to my world of being single and dating. This one is too old and that one is too young.

 

I went to the gym yesterday and the universe really wanted to stick my nose right in this dilemma. I say universe because I can’t commit to a belief in God or any supreme being but I can commit to the proven existence of energy and cause and effect.

 

As I was getting into the elevator to leave the gym a man and his son also get into the elevator. The man had been staring at me as I was practicing my inversions on the bench press bar. He said to me, “are you a professional gymnast?” I told him no and we had a bit of small talk before reaching the main floor. The man was clearly flirting with me but I found him to just too old although, he was probably the same age as myself. Then there was his son standing in the corner, trying to be invisible, hoping his father wouldn’t embarrass him. Unfortunately, I have also dated guys his age, and for obvious reason, just too young.

 

Where are all the inbetweeners?

Maybe I just haven’t found the right fairy tale.

Maybe I should consider Sleeping Beauty as an option.

For now I think I will just go back down the rabbit hole and hang out with Alice.

Random rambling ,

BRIBERY

July 14th, 2014

I bribe myself
I trick myself
I pull the wool over my eyes
So that I don’t stick my head back
Into the hole in the ground
Believing that everything will be alright

Some women use the words
Pamper
Spoil
Treat myself well

But to me
It’s still just a bribe
All the same

I fool myself into believing that
Material comforts will make me feel better
Will make up for all my unrequited loves
Will replace the touch of another human’s hands

I bait myself with trips to exotic countries
To have something to look forward to
To live for
If only for another 6 months or so

You
Can make a difference
You can bribe me
With a hug, a kind word, a smile, an acknowledgement
You can make this aloneness melt away

When you have nowhere left to go, go to Bali

When you have nowhere left to go, go to Bali

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THE SOUL HAS NOW LEFT THE BODY

October 22nd, 2013
"Bonks" and I chanting before his departure.

“Bonks” and I chanting before his departure.

That’s what my veterinarian said as she euphonized my beloved pet. “Do you want to stay with him for awhile?” She asked. Heck no, why would I want to hang out with an empty shell? “The body is just a vessel” She said that also.

The soul has left the body. That is exactly what I thought when I came home last Friday night only half drunk and in tears. New job. Same story. For the past 10 years I have dreaded every job that I have had in the Fashion Industry. The first 15 years weren’t quite so bad when the money was good and work was plentiful.

My friend and colleague in the industry said one day this past summer, “this kind of work erodes the soul.”

So, last Friday night I took ½ of a tablet of an anti-depressant. I begged my doctor to write a prescription for me several weeks ago when I was still un-employed. I told him that I couldn’t afford to go to a “specialist” doctor.

They sat on my night stand as I prayed day and night to feel better. I made a deal with myself. I was convinced that once I started working again I would no longer feel depressed. The reality was that working just takes my mind off the depression, while I am working.

I woke up Saturday morning and as I went to make coffee I thought, My Soul has now officially left my body. I watched my “alternative self” switch to auto-pilot. I was horrified and relieved all at the same time.

No feelings, no emotions, productive.

 

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MY AMERICAN BODY

January 6th, 2011

My body lies over the ocean.

My body lies over the sea.

My body lies over the ocean.

Oh, bring back my body to me.

Sung to the tune of ” My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean” a Scottish song.

Twenty years ago I stood on the platform, naked, posed, and barely breathing.

Counting my heartbeats I listened to the scratching of chalk against the paper. Their faces hidden behind easels and sketching pads, my friends, colleagues, lovers, and various strangers gathered around the Wood Burning stove keeping warm at 7 Dunham Place.

These are the memories of my perfect youthful body.

On this forty-something birthday I judge my American body like all Americans do.

This covered in clothing, wrapped in ornaments, embalmed with toxins, saturated with lies, buried under emotions, or simple container holds miles of traveled roads.

My body has been torn, tossed, broken, bitten, poked, scratched, crushed, and burned.

The rough edges are now smooth and the curves have become jagged.

Please observe the bumps, the bruises, the cracks and the crevices.

See the inside scars on the outside?

This body of wisdom, knowledge, experience, compassion, confidence, tenacity, tolerance, and determination survives and thrives.

My body is drama.

My American body is judged from the outside.

My American body yearns to leave this Continent for a Country without judgment.

I search for freedom in the healing waters around the world.

Lifted by the salts of the Dead Sea.

Rocked by the rough waters of Cinque Terre.

Soothed by the cool blues of Casablanca.

Blown away by the winds of the Bay Islands.

Warmed on the beaches of Finale Ligure.

Browned by the banks of the Volga River.

Transformed on the shores of Paros Island.

These memories are out of body and sometimes out of mind.

My American body remembers what it wants to.

Back in America I reassure my body by going to the Day Spa.

Drowning out memories in the mineral pools. Smoothing the wrinkles and carving new twinkles in the sauna steam. The cold showers douse the flames. A resurrection takes place in these pristine pools building character and charisma. Here in America, I proudly  continue to disrobe.

Random rambling

Self righteousness

July 17th, 2010

I’m tired of turning the other cheek

But that’s what the angels do

I’m tired of turning the other cheek

Cause what they say ain’t true

When being right is being wrong

When being left is not so strong

When being sacred turns me sour

When being sweet kills my power

I’m tired of turning the other cheek

But that’s what the angels do

I’m tired of turning the other cheek

Cause what they say ain’t true

I lay down my sword and offer my head

Rather be myself

Rather end up dead

Then let you think I’m some kind of fool

Cause in my world

My words rule.

Random rambling