ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Cuba

Well. So later, once I essentially have an airing of grievances, I will write an update about thoughts and moments and life or whatever. But for now I am just going to complain about the worst place I have ever been. Remember that year I lived in Indiana? Worse.

Cuba.

Fuck that place.

Okay okay. Sure, I have been quite spoiled in most of my travels and daily life, in general. But when I travel, especially places that are "developing" or whatever PC term is used now, I really try to depend on local food, entertainment, etc. And that includes local expectations. All that considered, I was so disappointed and saddened by visiting Cuba and the misery that laid ahead.

The food was disgusting. Even the paladores (restaurants out of people's homes) were terrible. Only considered good when compared to the government run restaurants, which all have the same menu and most of the time only have a limited number of items on the menu. The government limits ingredients, everyone uses the same bread (that is just bizarre), everything is cooked in oil, there is no dairy, and a shocking lack of fruits and vegetables despite its tropical island deal. But the kicker...the food is really expensive. Like unacceptable expensive.

The beaches are dirty. Trash all over the streets in Havana carries over to trash all over the beaches near Havana. There are also sand fleas on the beaches. Currently I am covered in very itchy and disgusting bug bites, despite not once sitting in the sand.

As a training psychologist the experience was interesting in the sense that the entire island acts as abused children who have only experienced double bind communication. Things that are supposed to be open were closed. Menus that list items do not have them. Inexpensive items (ex: beach towels) are outrageously priced ($40/towel). And the most bizarre part is that I sincerely think that people have no idea that their food is terrible and that they are living in this soul-dampened paranoid state. Hell, I would sign up for a lobotomy if I had to hear Chan Chan and Bailando 50 times a day. Even many of the local music plays the same songs at different locations. We were unable to go dancing because the venue was closed for renovation when we got there. Without warning.

Which brings me to the last point. Catcalling. Off the hook. My friend, Hadley, is a tiny blonde, which certainly called more attention to us. But even when I was alone the comments were unacceptable. I felt very uncomfortable and moved into anger at some of the things yelled and the pressure exerted from the men there. So much so that I finally stopped going out at night because it was just risky. Remember, I picked up hitchhikers in Mexico with no worries or fears.

And now I am home. And grateful to be so. And never have to discuss this topic again.

Monday, February 20, 2017

More light

You know when you stay up late on Sunday night because you don't want the weekend to end? Despite the cold and overall disgusting winter weather, these past couple weeks have left me with this general upward trend feeling. I am still buried in work with no end in sight. And do not know where I will be living July 1. And have no idea how I will pull off this semester. But have this bizarre lightness. Maybe it was Texas Mandy's visit last weekend. Maybe it has been weekends of just locking myself in and working on fun work. Maybe it has been recent social plans that leave me with a feeling of more, rather than depleted, energy.

Who knows. But I will take it.

Monday, January 30, 2017

I know.

2017. Bloop. What a mess.

This evening I turn in my application to The New School.

Last week I got a rejection letter from Wayne State. Not that I was all amped to move to Detroit. But. That instills the fear. What if I don't get in anywhere? (answer: then you will not continue on for a PhD this year at any of the places applied) What will I do with my life? (answer: live and be awesome, move to Mexico, who fucking knows, doesn't matter) Not completely dissimilar to dating someone you don't really like and they end it before you. Relief that it is done but then my Type A ego kicks in like "wait YOOOUUUU didn't want MEEEEEE?"

Good grief.

The past couple/few days I have had some longing for Christmas break and driving around southern Mexico, windows down, big ol sunglasses on, singing loudly. It is cold. And mostly cloudy. And I keep making plans with people despite knowing that all of winter I don't want to leave my home. The cats are pleased with this. And I feel like I am really getting my money's worth of Hulu.

Sunday, December 04, 2016

C is for Cookie

There is about 3/4 of a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough sitting across from me right now, just waiting to be eaten. All ready to go, spoon in it and everything. I have been picking at it while I read and write and do all these glorious Sunday things that involve not leaving my apartment and talking to the cats all day, catching up on the past week's podcasts.

Yesterday afternoon I went to the local grocery market thing I visit for some afternoon snacks (stuff for a smoothie and other well-intended purchases) and noticed (because while I DID pick up stuff for a delightful kale treat I had run a 10k in the morning and went to rehearsal for a bit in the afternoon so I should probably eat more than just kale, right?) they were completely out of the frozen cookie dough I buy there and chunk off in little bits. Sometimes I cook it. Most of the time I just let the dough balls sit out on the counter for about 4 minutes. Just long enough to be a teensy squishy with solid chips.

Upon learning of frozen cookie dough absence, I immediately told Mitch that this was unacceptable and out of hunger and spite I was going home to make dough. He sent back words of encouragement about cookies tasting better with some anger or something. But when I got home I realized I had only one egg left. Well, one egg does not a batch of cookie dough make. You need two. Why do I only have ONE egg? What happened to the other eggs I hadn't eaten?

Then I remembered.

Last week I was up in Montreal, sitting by a pool and walking around the art museums and stomping through the snow behind the Mont Royal lookout and writing and reading and speaking what little French I know.

The drunken Irish housesitter ate them.

And a few hours later, after a Chinese bodywork session and some reading and writing, I went back to the store and purchased missing ingredients. And mac & cheese. So here I was, kind of skipping down Houston, groceries in hand, thinking "wow. wow wow wow wow wow". This is life right now. This is life on Manhattan. I do not know what I did to deserve it but I will take it and enjoy the shit out of it while it lasts.

Wednesday, November 02, 2016

Body Magic

My fibula. It healed. One bone. No more little line going through the bottom of it on an x-ray.

What a relief.

So I am jogging again. A little teensy bit. Today I did my second 5k, up and over the Williamsburg Bridge into Brooklyn and back. It feels so good. Physically and mentally. It had gotten pretty dark there in my head for a while. I couldn't stop crying some days. Other days I just didn't want to be awake anymore. I can also meditate again and have been for a few weeks. It had gotten too uncomfortable to even do that. Little things like flowers from Mandy and fist bumps from stranger helped with a little bit of hope. Going to London for a few days to really wring my brain out helped, too.

Onward and upward. This weekend is the marathon in NYC and this year I will just get to be an observer and cheer on some folks. Next year I will run it with my strong little bone.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Hems & Minks

The cats have new nicknames. To add to their millions of names (none of which they respond to because they are cats). Henri (Matisse) and Georges (Seurat) have morphed into Henry Bear and Georgie Monkey. And then Hemry and Minkey Boodle. And Hems and Minks.

We sit and chat. I talk at them mostly. They stare blankly at me, likely not thinking much at all because cats are do not have big brains or the cognitive ability to construct sentences. But sometimes they meow at me.

Anyway. On the way to the pool today, I saw a cat on a leash. And thought it would be so much fun to take the cats out with me but they want nothing of it. I tried, in earnest, when I lived in Brookline.

So I'm back in the pool (just pulling, no legs) and started PT. And in a couple weeks I'm back up in Brookline for a few days following some pretty hectic work and school time. We have a JnJ meeting on Friday and the project I've been working on (MA thesis) will get a little poster in Worcester. This is the first of my own research I'll get to present. I wrote the IRB on the couch of The Bertram Inn. And I'll get to return there to stay in a couple weeks while I work on another paper and some applications between meetings. It's one of my favorite places, that couch. Right in front of the fire, with the papers and low lights and jazz in the evening. Can't help but really relax into the moment in that space.

Monday, September 26, 2016

September

Is almost over. Kind of like a flash. Wonder what October will bring. Probably a lot of the same.

My leg still hurts but is on the mend. Tomorrow I'll get back in the pool and start PT. It feels really good to be able to walk around again but I am still getting really tired all of a sudden. Like okay...then at night super tired and I crash. The constant fear of fucking it up has also left. Not sleeping through the night was wearing thin.

And it is Autumn, arguably my favorite season. The sky is blue and the air is crisp. If I close my eyes I feel like I smell new pencils and bonfires. I'll be up in New England at least once next month, likely twice, for work and then back in December. You know, to enjoy that area during its best season. It feels really nice to ground here, too. Be on Manhattan for a few weeks. Clean up the garden before it closes down for the season. Make my little winter nest.