Follower

I’m a follower. In the most literal sense of the word, that is. All my life if someone knew where we were going I would just blindly follow them or sit in the car paying no attention as to where I was. This, of course, made me absolutely terrible at understanding directions or finding my way anywhere. I never remember where anything is. I’m not even sure I could find my way back to my old high school without getting lost. I went to that place every day for four f*$#ing years and I can’t remember my route? That’s pathetic.

I’ve been living in Manhattan for almost a decade now. I know my way around just fine in the city. Sometimes when you get out of the subway it’s a little confusing because you are not sure which way is north but you figure it out fast enough. Last night I was in a section of town that I knew fairly well. I found my way to the thrift shop sale and met up with friends. As soon as I met friends they were in charge and within minutes I no longer knew where we were. I don’t pay attention to which direction we are going or street signs or anything. This would be a really easy way to go about murdering me.

I know people say it’s a stereotypical thing that women are bad at directions but it’s not the directions part I’m bad at. It’s giving a shit that I’m bad at. If you know where we are going and I trust that you do then I can’t be bothered to pay attention. Does anyone else have this problem? Can you tell me where the closest train is? Thank Jebus for this map application on my phone or I would never find my way to the bar.

A Trip To The Diner

I was sitting at the local diner with Sky having a really shitty breakfast at 1pm. The old man next to us has been talking non-stop to the younger woman across the table since the dawn of time. I'm thinking perhaps she is deaf because I can't tell if she is even aware he is still rambling. I'm usually pretty good at blocking out other people but fairly quickly I realized both Sky and myself were totally silent and engrossed in what this man was talking about. He covered an array of topics with intense passion and commitment. You couldn't help eavesdropping. After all, he is only a foot away from me. So he says something about youth and how young people don't talk to their ancestors about history and how they could learn something from it. Possibly stop making the same mistakes. But the kids aren't interested. So I chimed in,

"Well, WE are interested!"

Whoa.

He turned to me and peered at me with his one working eye as it started to tear up and began a beautiful one person conversation that lasted for the next three hours. Oh yes. Three hours.

Turns out the younger woman across the table was his new wife. They just got married last year. He told us all about his abusive parents that raped him as a child and how he was autistic for 34 years and could barley move. He told us a lot about Winnicott whom he obviously adores. He is Jewish but kept saying he didn't believe in a God that could do the things that have happened to so many humans. Then he spoke of the Holocaust and the rape his wife endured in her prior marriage. He spoke of many religions and ideas and countries and people. He spoke of philosophers. He spoke quickly. I couldn't absorb it all.

Okay this is what I'm getting at. I walked into this diner expecting same old same old and ignoring what I assumed was a crazy old man. I ended up having an amazing eye and ear opening experience with enough information to count as an entire college course. Maybe you should consider having a long talk with someone in their eighties or nineties. I bet they could teach you something. Oh, and don't lose the chance to collect the stories of your family history because as my new friend said "when it's gone, it's gone" and lost forever.

Aren't you hungry for diner food now?

When did I get old?

I have friends from many walks of life. Different ages, races, religions, and species make up my facebook friend page. Even with this being the case I've come to realize that the majority of my close friends are older than me. Why? Recently I keep finding myself in situations with friends of friends that are in their early twenties. I was trying to figure out why I usually like the people but they can quickly get on my nerves. Am I just a crotchety, cranky old person? Am I ageist? Does their youth offend me? Now that I'm so aware of it I'm sure people must feel this way about me as well. It makes me overly conscious of the level of maturity I'm projecting even while hanging out at the bar. How can this be when I'm still young?

Last night I was out with, well, a bunch of people throughout the course of the night. Earlier on and up until about 1am I was with some of my favorite people alive. I probably drank a little too much vodka and whisky at the drag show before moving on the the late night group but that can't be the whole reason I'm cranky and old. I met up with a person that is becoming a good friend and two younger girls that I don't know very well but usually enjoy. I had a very good time when the numbers were low. We played a little pool and danced a bit. Then we went to an all night cafe where another two young girls (friends of our friends) worked and suddenly I was annoyed. Too much youth. Annoying conversation. I got bitchy. At the time I didn't think it was an age thing. I just thought everyone was obnoxious. It was later when I was trying to explain my discomfort to my boyfriend that he pointed out I'm older than them and therefore, don't enjoy the same "fun" things. I still don't know what that comment means. So basically this is the first time in my life where I was told to my face that I'm not young anymore. It sucked. I have found a way to deal with it though! I have decided to get rid of all people in my life that know and associate with people younger than me. That way I am eternally youthful and never have to worry about this again. I think this also means I have to get rid of my boyfriend. He shouldn't have called me old.

Okay, I won't be that extreme but thanks for letting me vent.

I might regret sharing this.

I wasn't going to share this with you because I'm not overly proud of it but then Dana went and talked about being all honest and stuff so .... here it goes.

Last month I was singing for my mom's birthday. It was something like three to four hours long. In that time someone (my mother) happened to catch a little footage. Because I always talk about singing and crap I figure I'm obligated to share this with all of you.

The song is Peel Me A Grape. I couldn't remember all the words so when it looks like my eyes are closed I was actually trying to read my sheet music set up next to me. If I sang with my eyes closed all the time I would probably fall over. I still fall over but it's usually because I had one drink too many. Anyway, it was a fun party. I was glad I had the chance to sing for my grandparents again. It had only been about a decade or so.

I hope it wasn't too painful for you and if it was... Bite Me.

Thanks for listening!

Hmmmmm......

My computer is a little bitch and doesn't turn on most of the time. I beat her profusely and still she refuses to obey. Because of her disobedience my life has been hard to chronicle and share with you. As you may know by now, I have little to no memory and forget what I did just an hour ago. That might be an exaggeration but it certainly is hard to keep track of things when you don't have much order to your life. So let's see what you might have missed.... hmmm.....

Last weekend I went camping in the Poconos with some friends. We spent one day White Water Rafting in the freezing rain. It was awesome and miserable. It rained that whole night at the campsite which made our raging campfire smoke even more. I invented the SMOKEBAG to protect my precious eyes. Basically I wore my hooded plastic poncho backwards. Yes, it is hard to breath with plastic covering your face. I was sharing a tent with a really gorgeous chick and her wet dog. As hot as that might sound I can assure you it wasn't. We did giggle like schoolgirls at the sound of our friends getting it on a few tents away. It was like Girl Scouts all over again. Hmmmm....

Last week Sky surprised me by telling me to be at a certain location by 5:30 and when I arrived they informed me he got me an aromatherapy manicure and pedicure. He isn't really the type to do this sort of thing so it really shocked me. How sweet right? Now I must wonder what he did wrong. Hmmmm....

I think I did lots of other things this week but they must have been comparatively insignificant. So what do we have to look forward to in the week to come? Let's check the calendar. Selling more collagen and the annual Pap Smear. Hmmmm...

My New Dream

I have a dream. A wonderful dream blog friends. And you are in it and you are in it and yes, even you! A couple nights ago, in a mildly drunken stupor, I stumbled upon a brilliant idea. It is my new life dream and all I need to make it happen is a motercycle, a video camera, and your address.

Here I am preparing for the voyage.



You see, I just want to meet you all so much that I would like to take this blog on the road. The biggest hurdle (other than the fact that I will never have the money to accomplish this) would be convincing you that it's safe to meet me. It is, I promise. I've already come up with date ideas for us! For instance, I could bike down to Arkansas and hit up all the best strip clubs with Jay. Then go to Bagwine for a pub crawl. Perhaps I could get Dianne to attend a Brooklyn Burlesque show with me. Then off to to the south for a FULL glass of wine with Farmer's Wife. She doesn't just taste test you know. I have to catch one of Gary's open studios and then flirt with his neighbor and my long time crush Ben. I have ideas for everybody! Now, don't you think this would be an interesting voyage to follow via video? Hell, you can get a motercycle too and join me. We can become a blogger motercycle gang.

Or maybe I'm dreaming too big.
*sigh* If only. If only dreams really did come true.

I WAS ATTACKED....

BY ELVES! Well okay, maybe I was attacked by myself. Yesterday I was using the tiny knife on the wine opener to cut some cardboard and I stabbed it right into my hand. Turns out even with my bad circulation I have lots of blood flowing between my thumb and pointer finger. That little thing gushed all the way across the room and even hit the mirror hung six feet in the air. The cut really wasn't all that bad but the amount of blood scared the hell out of me. In my panic I started calling people in an effort to be told what to do. I was holding a towel like it was the only thing keeping me from falling off a building and trying to make phone calls with the other hand. Of course nobody picked up the phone. It was the middle of the day and apparently everyone I know has a life. Luckily Casey is the person who called me back. Being that he is an ER nurse he is the only person whose opinion I really trusted anyway. He came over while I cleaning up the blood and, disappointed that he missed the scene, bandaged up my hand. It really wasn't all that bad so he was probably annoyed he made the trip but it was still nice to have the reassurance you don't need stitches. Thanks for being there Case.

Have you ever tried washing your hair with one arm? It's surprisingly difficult.