I'm not sure who checks this blog any more. If you can't tell, I've been really uninspired to write lately. That doesn't mean nothing's been happening in my life because, actually, quite a lot has been happening. Quite a lot of internal work and shifts for which I'm grateful.
I started this blog a few years ago as a way to keep friends and family informed of my daily life in the big apple. After some time I started reaching out to other blogs and began getting daily readers whom I don't know. Seeing strangers comment on my posts gave me the drive to continue, as I thought it was surreal and cool to forge bonds with people you don't know.
I then started having some health issues, which really brought me away from this blog. And away from other things I love to do. As the health drama continues to unfold, I've found myself going inside for guidance the way I never did before. And so... I find myself unmotivated to keep a daily tab of life the way I did before. One, I'm not experiencing anything super exciting from an external perspective that's worth writing about. Two, my focus for the blog is no longer about b*tching about day-to-day happenings. This blog used to mainly be a rant. I don't feel like ranting any more.
So, I wrote this post just to update anyone left who may still check this blog from time to time. I may be inspired to start anew at some point. But for the time being, I wish you all a wonderful festive season, much love, health and peace in the New Year.
All the best,
A
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Old white people
Maybe I'm just caught up in the young, multi-ethnic colorful rainbow trend of this election season, but I'm noticing old white people a lot more lately and feeling bothered by them.
Hear me out. Tonight I attended an event where a former Chairman of the SEC talked about the current state of economic affairs, how it all came about and where he sees it going. Aside from being incredibly dull (he didn't share anything we hadn't already heard), it was so.... milky. And old. A sea of wrinkled pale faces. And this is an organization whose theme is international. There was one Indian dude. A Japanese woman and a Mexican lady. Other than that, all "Harry"s and "Mildred"s.
Throughout our recent campaign I was confronted with my own ageism. Every time I saw McCain I just saw the past. History. A chapter that I really wanted to close, with the help of fresh young blood and a new vision. And so tonight I was faced with it again. I'm noticing a desire in me to just send these folks en masse to the Shady Grove nursing home and to leave the world to the rest of us to fix. And then I feel horrible for having these thoughts - afraid of what neglect, mistreatment and illnesses will haunt me in my golden years.
I think part of it is frustration over the lack of interest by youth today in deeper issues. I hope that the grassroots involvement and passion displayed by the young this election season will continue to blossom. But we need them to actually attend events like the one I went to tonight. There's no reason why a lecture on the current economic crisis delivered by an internationally-focused policy group should be attracting only retired folks with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.
OK, I just reread what I wrote and realized how incoherent it all is. Any way, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to see more young people at the events that attract me and that I'm a bit of an ageist.
Hear me out. Tonight I attended an event where a former Chairman of the SEC talked about the current state of economic affairs, how it all came about and where he sees it going. Aside from being incredibly dull (he didn't share anything we hadn't already heard), it was so.... milky. And old. A sea of wrinkled pale faces. And this is an organization whose theme is international. There was one Indian dude. A Japanese woman and a Mexican lady. Other than that, all "Harry"s and "Mildred"s.
Throughout our recent campaign I was confronted with my own ageism. Every time I saw McCain I just saw the past. History. A chapter that I really wanted to close, with the help of fresh young blood and a new vision. And so tonight I was faced with it again. I'm noticing a desire in me to just send these folks en masse to the Shady Grove nursing home and to leave the world to the rest of us to fix. And then I feel horrible for having these thoughts - afraid of what neglect, mistreatment and illnesses will haunt me in my golden years.
I think part of it is frustration over the lack of interest by youth today in deeper issues. I hope that the grassroots involvement and passion displayed by the young this election season will continue to blossom. But we need them to actually attend events like the one I went to tonight. There's no reason why a lecture on the current economic crisis delivered by an internationally-focused policy group should be attracting only retired folks with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.
OK, I just reread what I wrote and realized how incoherent it all is. Any way, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to see more young people at the events that attract me and that I'm a bit of an ageist.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Dosha revisited
Last Friday I went for an Ayurveda 107-point Marma massage. The doctor performing the massage felt my pulse and told me my constitution:
1. Fire
2 Air and Space
What does this mean? I am heavy fire (Pitta dosha) followed by air and space (Vata dosha).
After reading about these doshas, I saw very clearly how I am a blend of the two and I see how they confirm things that I had already known about myself.
Pitta - If the Pitta dosha is most lively in our nature, we tend to be muscular, smart and determined. If balanced, we are warm, intelligent and a good leader. If out of balance, Pitta can make us critical, irritable, impatient and aggressive. They are sharp and determined in thought, speech and action. There is an element of purpose to their step, an intensity to their voice. Ambition is usually their second name. Pitta people need cool foods and environments. Can't overheat.
Vata - If we are predominantly Vata, we tend to be thin, light and quick in our thoughts and actions. Change is a constant part of our lives. When Vata is balanced, we are creative, enthusiastic and lively. But if Vata becomes excessive, we may develop anxiety, insomnia or irregular digestion. They are quick and lively in thought, speech and action, and make friends easily. There is an element of airiness to their step, a quality of lightness in their laughter. Change is usually their second name. Vata people need warm foods and environments. Hands and feet tend to be cold.
I've realized that I'm pretty out of balance, so on the negative side this means: quick to anger, inflammation, impatience, irritable (Pitta), coupled with anxiety, too quick in action/movement, don't stay in a position long enough to establish grounding. How does this manifest physically? Top-half I'm Vata (lanky), bottom half I'm Pitta (solid frame). My feet and hands are usually cold (VATA) and during the fall/wintertime I CRAVE warm, hearty soups and foods (Vata balancing), but in the summertime I need to keep cool (Pitta) because overheating makes me VERY angry (like the time I took a Bikram yoga class and found myself wanting to punch the teacher. I can't stand moist heat and prefer cooler yoga classes).
Apparently my Ph is very alkaline, acidic.
Recommendations:
Pitta balancing - keep cool, calm, breathe and stay in the moment. These mental changes can keep the fire under control. Avoid spicy and fiery foods. Add cool foods to the diet (though for me, I need this just during the summer months).
Vata balancing - keep focused on one task at a time. Stop jumping from one thing to the next without completing it (This is soooo me!). Breathe and stay in the moment to establish grounding to hold back anxiety. Add warm foods to the diet, and keep especially warm during cold months.
So after the massage, she put me in a steam-tube. I was sweating up a storm, which felt incredible. Releasing toxins (or amma). Going again this week. It's expensive but helpful. It was strange that this woman knew my constitution just by taking my pulse, and she also knew what ailments I had in my body because she could sense chakra blockage.
You can take a dosha quiz online to figure out what yours is & I'd recommend a Marma massage. I'm thinking of other Ayurveda treatments, though they're creepier (enemas and induced vomiting).
Monday, November 03, 2008
T -1
Eve of the big day. I'm traveling tomorrow afternoon (going to my polling station extra early, though I'm not sure how intense it'll be in NY). I imagine I'll be glued to the TV much of the evening when I arrive in Boston. I'll either be unable to sleep due to absolute glee. Unable to sleep because of suspense over a delayed outcome. Or unable to sleep out of sheer depression and mental gymnastics trying to figure out which country I could apply to for political refugee status.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Unique places to celebrate your birthday
My dear friend E had a BIG birthday this weekend and so she came to EnWhySee to celebrate, or rather to drown her aging birthday blues in expensive booze purchased by jerk-offs.
She arrived Thursday evening. Without missing a beat, we got dolled up and went out to what I would later find out is the notorious rooftop meat market that V has told me about time and again, 230 Fifth. I had already been to it before for a private party, so I didn't know of it as THAT meat market rooftop bar.
E and I sat down next to four men of varying ages. 50s, 30s and 20s. They were a father and son duo courting their clients. Trade of business? Insurance. Red flag number one.
E and I ordered a drink each. Four guys started chatting with us, and upon hearing that E was an out-of-towner celebrating her big day, they bought a round of shots. Did I mention that we decided to have these drinks BEFORE dinner? Can you guess how quickly the booze infiltrated our blood stream, sending inhibitionless 'glee' messages to our brain?
The four guys invited us to dinner at the Bluewater Grille. E was crying on the father's shoulder, wiping her nose on his hanky because she mixed alcohol with suppressed grief over her recent mother's death. I was oblivious to this because another guy at a different table caught my eye. I'm nearsighted and by this point pretty lit so I couldn't tell if the guy was actually good looking or just beer-goggle good looking. We made eyes & smiled. I got up to pee and when I was coming back, noticed that I had a voicemail. As I was listening to it, cute guy came up to me and gave me his card. A French pilot. Sounds like a setup to a porn film dunnit?
I was walking back to the table where E and four guys were sitting and decided F it, I'll go chat with the pilot instead.
The following sequence of events happened over the next 10 minutes or 2 hours. I couldn't tell. E said 'bye' to four guys, V joined us for drinks and the pilot and I were kissing. Then E said that Four guys had sent a car over to pick us up to join them for dinner. I gave the Pilot my # and left with E. We jumped into the car that Four guys sent over and learned that we weren't going to the Bluewater Grille, but rather the "Penthouse". "Oh cool, a penthouse!" thought ridiculously gullible and drunk A. "Red flag" thought sober E.
We got to the "Penthouse" and the driver told us to say we were there with S. The rather gargantuan bouncer checked our IDs and the lady at the reception desk told us to please wait under the chandelier and that we would be escorted upstairs. This is is what happened, according to E. To me it was all rather fuzzy.
We were escorted upstairs to S's table. For the first time since entering the establishment I was able to focus and what did I see but a woman with pasties (or really large and oddly shaped nipples) at the bar, and the four guys at a table with naked chicks on their lap.
"Oh hell no. We're outta here." I exclaimed and turned right back around.
The next morning I would come to learn from E that there was a lower level with a stage and more naked chicks. I so wish I were sober for that experience. I mean, what a great story to tell! My first time in a 'Gentleman's Club' and I'm too drunk to notice and laugh my ass off.
The Penthouse. After looking at the website I asked E if those large pictures of chicks sucking on C***s and such were really there and she said yes. How in the hell did I miss all of this!
Oh and when E shared the story with a male friend in the city, he told us that we should've known where we'd be going as soon as the guy said that he'd send his car for us. Apparently 'I'll send a car to pick you up' is code for 'You'll be joining us at a titty bar.' What the F?
She arrived Thursday evening. Without missing a beat, we got dolled up and went out to what I would later find out is the notorious rooftop meat market that V has told me about time and again, 230 Fifth. I had already been to it before for a private party, so I didn't know of it as THAT meat market rooftop bar.
E and I sat down next to four men of varying ages. 50s, 30s and 20s. They were a father and son duo courting their clients. Trade of business? Insurance. Red flag number one.
E and I ordered a drink each. Four guys started chatting with us, and upon hearing that E was an out-of-towner celebrating her big day, they bought a round of shots. Did I mention that we decided to have these drinks BEFORE dinner? Can you guess how quickly the booze infiltrated our blood stream, sending inhibitionless 'glee' messages to our brain?
The four guys invited us to dinner at the Bluewater Grille. E was crying on the father's shoulder, wiping her nose on his hanky because she mixed alcohol with suppressed grief over her recent mother's death. I was oblivious to this because another guy at a different table caught my eye. I'm nearsighted and by this point pretty lit so I couldn't tell if the guy was actually good looking or just beer-goggle good looking. We made eyes & smiled. I got up to pee and when I was coming back, noticed that I had a voicemail. As I was listening to it, cute guy came up to me and gave me his card. A French pilot. Sounds like a setup to a porn film dunnit?
I was walking back to the table where E and four guys were sitting and decided F it, I'll go chat with the pilot instead.
The following sequence of events happened over the next 10 minutes or 2 hours. I couldn't tell. E said 'bye' to four guys, V joined us for drinks and the pilot and I were kissing. Then E said that Four guys had sent a car over to pick us up to join them for dinner. I gave the Pilot my # and left with E. We jumped into the car that Four guys sent over and learned that we weren't going to the Bluewater Grille, but rather the "Penthouse". "Oh cool, a penthouse!" thought ridiculously gullible and drunk A. "Red flag" thought sober E.
We got to the "Penthouse" and the driver told us to say we were there with S. The rather gargantuan bouncer checked our IDs and the lady at the reception desk told us to please wait under the chandelier and that we would be escorted upstairs. This is is what happened, according to E. To me it was all rather fuzzy.
We were escorted upstairs to S's table. For the first time since entering the establishment I was able to focus and what did I see but a woman with pasties (or really large and oddly shaped nipples) at the bar, and the four guys at a table with naked chicks on their lap.
"Oh hell no. We're outta here." I exclaimed and turned right back around.
The next morning I would come to learn from E that there was a lower level with a stage and more naked chicks. I so wish I were sober for that experience. I mean, what a great story to tell! My first time in a 'Gentleman's Club' and I'm too drunk to notice and laugh my ass off.
The Penthouse. After looking at the website I asked E if those large pictures of chicks sucking on C***s and such were really there and she said yes. How in the hell did I miss all of this!
Oh and when E shared the story with a male friend in the city, he told us that we should've known where we'd be going as soon as the guy said that he'd send his car for us. Apparently 'I'll send a car to pick you up' is code for 'You'll be joining us at a titty bar.' What the F?
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Unh Unh Unh
Go the sounds of my neighbor's girlfriend.
Bump bump bump, go the sounds of my neighbor's bed, slamming against the wall we share.
Living in New York, there are certain things you have to sacrifice. Like peace and quiet. I've been sleeping with ear plugs for four years now, because I can hear every person walk up and down the stairwell of my building, at all hours of the day.
And there are other things you need to give up. Like as a woman, the ability to scream for God in your moment of ecstasy. Or your ability unh unh unh at each thrust. Because these sounds, to others in your building, are cringe-worthy. I mean, I'm all for people getting busy, I just don't want to hear it. It's one of those times in your adult life when you're allowed to revert to your childhood habits of plugging your ears and yelling LA LA LA LA LA I DON'T HEAR YOU!!!!
So I slipped a note under my neighbor's door today. Reminding him that the wall separating our apartments is wafer thin and that I can hear EVERYTHING. "Please relay to your girlfriend." Signed, "Smiley face, Thank you, A".
Bump bump bump, go the sounds of my neighbor's bed, slamming against the wall we share.
Living in New York, there are certain things you have to sacrifice. Like peace and quiet. I've been sleeping with ear plugs for four years now, because I can hear every person walk up and down the stairwell of my building, at all hours of the day.
And there are other things you need to give up. Like as a woman, the ability to scream for God in your moment of ecstasy. Or your ability unh unh unh at each thrust. Because these sounds, to others in your building, are cringe-worthy. I mean, I'm all for people getting busy, I just don't want to hear it. It's one of those times in your adult life when you're allowed to revert to your childhood habits of plugging your ears and yelling LA LA LA LA LA I DON'T HEAR YOU!!!!
So I slipped a note under my neighbor's door today. Reminding him that the wall separating our apartments is wafer thin and that I can hear EVERYTHING. "Please relay to your girlfriend." Signed, "Smiley face, Thank you, A".
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tears
Last night I was watching a movie called The Evening. Stellar cast including Meryl Streep, Glenn Close, Patrick Wilson (hubba hubba, looks a lot like an ex), Vanessa Redgrave, Natasha Richardson, Toni Colette and Claire Danes. Why did this movie not make a splash? It was such a pretty story.
Any way, as with most anything I watch, I started tearing up. But this went beyond tears. I turned off the movie and I was still hyperventilating through the sobs. What the heck? I'm noticing a theme. Death and love (sibling love, friendly love, romantic love, any kind of love) brings me to sobs. I know that most people are affected by movies and will tear up, but I am flying through rolls of toilet paper on my nose, that's how bad I'm crying. And it's not just movies. Hell, it's cartoons! Anything remotely emotional and I'm choking back tears.
It's therapeutic. I don't know what it all means, but it means something. And I'm grateful for it.
Any way, as with most anything I watch, I started tearing up. But this went beyond tears. I turned off the movie and I was still hyperventilating through the sobs. What the heck? I'm noticing a theme. Death and love (sibling love, friendly love, romantic love, any kind of love) brings me to sobs. I know that most people are affected by movies and will tear up, but I am flying through rolls of toilet paper on my nose, that's how bad I'm crying. And it's not just movies. Hell, it's cartoons! Anything remotely emotional and I'm choking back tears.
It's therapeutic. I don't know what it all means, but it means something. And I'm grateful for it.
