samedi

So, blogging has fallen a little - and, as usual, it's not because I don't have a lot to write about. I find myself wishing the world would slow down a little so that I could catch my breath and just watch for a little while. I think I'll classify this as the "I need a vacation feeling." This is not good, because April looks to be a superbusy month.

Things that are making me happy right now:

• Ridiculously cool clock I bought. It projects the time on the ceiling. My biggest reason for considering Lasik^tm was the vain hope of being able see the bedside clock without my glasses. (Yes, it's that bad.) What's even funnier is that I haven't really had a clock in the bedroom for ... over a year. (Don't hate me just because I don't need an alarm to get up!) This clock is Starck (oooh - all fancy-like), and I have been kind of petting it. And maybe calling it "my Precious." Don't judge! And I bought it for $15. The cheap-ass desi within rejoices!!
• Having a truly, truly shit day ... and having friends check in with you the next day. So schweet. Even Hesse, who has a 3-year old's inquisitiveness, managed to not ask for details.
• Having a truly, truly shit day (partie deux) ... and having someone from the Internets email you because they think you are sympatico! So totally what I needed!
• On a total whim (and at the last minute!!), entering the Women 2.0 Napkin Business Challenge. Total geek that I am, I hit the public library for some emergency "business plan/Internet start-up" type books. I don't have a chance in hell, but it was ... an experience.
• Dinner plans with la brim, and a hot date with Janeane Garofolo. Okay, maybe she doesn't know it's a date. (Little known fact, if a movie was ever made of my life, I would want her to play me. But, you know, taller. And Indian.)

55 Fiction Friday: Complicado edition

Friday says it right.

Lying is rarely easy, but some lies roll off the tongue more effortlessly. Which words are harder to say? Which phrase makes it more difficult to control the trembling voice and lower lip, the tension around the eyes, to mask your inner thoughts? “I love you” or “You don't mean nothing at all to me.”

Eating fear

Flipping through draft posts that never quite made it to the big time, I came to this one. The contents, a haphazard bulleted list meant to jog my memory, didn't mean a lot to me - but the title certainly did. Two words I put together a year ago neatly encapsulate my mental state.

I've been considering the chasm between my life as it is and my life as I want it to be. Actually, my analysis isn't even that far along. My life as I want it to be ... is hazy, a few pencil strokes on the page, a rough sketch. Sometimes a goal is borne fully-formed, like Athena from the head of Zeus. And other times, the process is much more amorphous and painfully slow. I feel like I have to cultivate the right environment, and allow ideas to percolate at their own speed.

I've found that the best place for me to ponder is..... not at home (which is a bummer, since it is so convenient.) I spent a good part of Saturday at San Gregorio beach, hunched into my sweatshirt, watching the waves and jotting notes into my journal. I am (dreaded cliche) trying to "think outside the box." I am trying to pull together all the various threads of things I enjoy, from the specific ("I miss dancing") to the much more general ("I want to create a community of reliable people I trust.")

It's scary, this "thinking outside the box." It's difficult to identify your assumptions and beliefs, let alone question them. What would you do with your life if you could tear it down and build it back up again? If people's expectations (and more pointedly -- your own) didn't cloud things.

I can't say that I have a dream (or a Goal) yet, but I'm getting there.

Lunatic fringe

I have typed in and lost three posts now. I'm taking it as a sign that I'm long overdue for a haiku movie review.

300
Stunningly filmed, but
Ripped men in leather speedos
Make me think “gay porn”

The Namesake
My family’s story
In many ways, but
…. Bengali, of course

Conversations with Other Women

Chickest of chick flicks
All dialogue, no action
Yet, I recommend

House of Games
I hate to say it:
(Mamet is a great writer)
But this one’s a dog

(P.S. - It's National Poetry Month!)

but what if I'm a mermaid

Our high school English teacher had some "interesting" ideas. He walked around shaking his fist and exclaiming, "I'd strike the sun if it insulted me." (So much so, in fact, that some forgotten student painted a canvas with a nautical scene and that quote.) We watched "Cool Hand Luke" for somewhat inscrutable reasons. We also watched an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, where the intrepid crew of the Enterprise comes across a people that speak .... entirely in metaphors!!! (DUN...dun...DUH!)

..........

Recently, I've been noticing the elliptical ways people communicate. I love talking to one of my coworkers, but it's always more like ..... two monologues flowing along, a form of free-association. We never really know what the other person is talking about, or how their stream of thought formed.

I picked Hesse up and he started right in, continuing a conversation we'd had a solid week ago. I had to love him a little for that: knowing that he'd been thinking about what we talked about, his assumption that I would know what the HELL he was referring to.

And the other end of the spectrum: not even needing to communicate. I can tell TBF "just the facts, ma'am," and she will have a fairly accurate map as to how I reacted, what I thought and felt. It's kinda cool, and kinda disarming at the same time.

Although I love these zigs and zags, I do wish that there was an emergency override button: that you could, in times of crisis, attain some kind of state where the other person (or people) could immediately understand what you were saying, why you were saying it, your intention, etc. (and vice versa.)

I'm feeling a drawing towards .... and away from people. I enjoy the people in my life, but it seems so very hard to add people. If I'm a lone, I'm thinking that it would be nice to share a glass of wine and a laugh with someone. If I'm in a group, I'm thinking about curling up with a cup of tea and a paperback. (Tea - the beverage of solitude.)

I feel like there is a drumbeat in my head "I want ... I want ... I want."

spinning all that dizzy air

Late morning, and I'm ensconced on the couch. I've created a weird fort of cushions - the better to rest my legs, and laptop. (At this point, I'm surprised it hasn't premanently grafted itself to my lap!)

I'm sick. Swigging pink grapefruit flavor Airborne, I listen to the eerie rattle in my chest with a certain measure of pride. And then, outside, a bobbing teal jewel. I hold my belabored breath and watch the hummingbird flit from flower to flower, it's path dizzyingly impossible.

In my physical misery, all clogges sinuses and wadded-up Kleenex, I feel dazzlingly lucky - like I've somehow stolen a moment, or a miracle.

vino, vidi, vici

You know when you walk past those big display beds in the department stores? The ones that are perfectly made, with coordinating accessories, that seem almost overstuffed - bursting with plump coziness?

Beds have become my new fantasy. And it's not even due to an insomnia attack. I dream of curling up into bed and ....reading, maybe napping, writing in a journal. I flip through the pages of CB2 and drool over the soothing modern lines.

It seems that I need some kind of a vacation. And I do not mean travel! My big trip to India, while quite an adventure, was not as restorative as, apparently, I needed it to be. I've also been jonesing for sitting on the beach and staring at the wonder pondering the mysteries. (I'm not talking swimsuit and margarita - I'm talking Northern California styles - sweatshirt and a water bottle!)

Resolved: by the end of the month, I will (1) drive out to the beach, set up my little camp chair and vegetate, (2) check myself into a hotel room and spend random hours in bed. (So much easier to do when you're not staring at laundry that needs to be done, or dealing with the feline roomie demanding attention!)

..........

Weekend update!

Friday: Happy Hour with work peeps, then a hot date with Colin Farrell. I think this is the first movie I've seen him in, and ... I can see the attraction. I also tried out Netflix new "Watch it Now" feature (to watch 'Big Eden') Yes, we can just call this my Big Gay Cinema Night.

Saturday: extra helping of NOTHING! I've been having these visions of spring cleaning. Sorting through closets, making lists - getting ORGANIZED!

Yeah, none of that happened. A higher priority, I decided, was bonding with my couch. Thankfully, Hesse convinced me to enjoy the gorgeous day by going for a walk. Any walk with me is a mini bio-lesson. It's probably on the annoying-side, but I can't help it. I point out trees, and other flora. The park we went to has a wealth of bird life, and I spouted off about it. Poor Hesse now knows more about red-winged blackbirds and their migratory behavior than he probably ever wanted to know. (I even broke down what the birds were chattering on about. I translated it as "Bitch, please! This is MY turf! You best get to steppin' ")

Sunday: Damn time change! Totally screwed with my sleep schedule, and nearly messed with my plans for the day! I headed into the city and picked up ads and an as-of-yet-unnamed friend and headed up to wine country. We were all running a little late, and a half step off, so we didn't hit as many wineries as we may have liked. Still, we enjoyed the barrel tasting weekend, andI will try to make it again next year.

I bought wine from A. Raffanelli (which*thrilled* me- I had a bottle of their zin at dinner in September and have been thinking of it ever since.) I was also impressed with the zinfandel at Bella (and may have come home with a few bottles - including a late harvest zin that they paired with peanut butter cups. The yum!!)

International Women's Day

Happy International Women's Day . In my effort to "get back to where I once began" (i.e. my pre-lawschool self), I've been rediscovering my feminist self. For me, that has meant getting back to reading feminist thinkers, including blog.s So here it is, my blog contribution to the day: a list of feminist-minded blogs that I peruse:

• Bitch, PhD


• Blank Noise Action Heroes (blog-a-thon related to the Blank Noise Project - to stop street harassment, see also Holla Back.)


• Diana Blaine


• Feministe


• Feministing


• Girlistic


• I Blame the Patriarchy


• Our Bodies, Our Blog


• Pandagon

Know of any good ones I should add to my already overtaxed Google Reader?

Soda Pop (& Pony Boy)

I've never had a soda in my life. My parents never gave it to me when I was young, and now just the smell of it makes me nauseous. I went through a period of time where I tried to train myself (with Welch's grape soda) to get over it. The "soda boot camp" was less than successful: I was never able to take more than three sips.

At lunch on Monday, for some odd reason, I revealed to my lunchmates that I've never had a Twinkie^tm. (It doesn't seem possible, but it was topical.) After we finished lunch, they insisted on walking over to the little market and buying me one. (They also purchased a selection of Ho-Hos^tm and Ding Dongs ^tm.) Walking back to work, I broke off a bite and tried it.

That shit is nasty, yo.

I'm a texture eater, and the texture was horrifying. (I'm a taste eater, too - and the taste was equally grosso.) Cloyingly sweet inner glue surrounded by vaguely greasy, sponge-y yet crumble-y "cake." I'm getting grossed out all over again thinking about it.

Well, at least now I can say that I've tried a Twinkie! Next thing you know, coffee!

where soul meets body

I spent Saturday in one of my favorite ways: a more-or-less unstructured hanging out with someone who genuinely entertains me. I was walking home from getting new keys cut when Hesse swooped by and picked me up - my knight in white shining Saab. As I was still "gym fabulous", I made him promise we weren't meeting other people. He said, "Of course not! We just have to pick up these two people..." Nice. The day meandered on, including stops in downtown Mountain View (for Indian Chinese food and Gelato Classico), Kepler's, the public library.

And then, off to the city to meet up with brimful for some Clive Owen (i.e. Children of Men). Before the movie even started, we had an adventure - scooting around the new Westfield Center in search of Beard Papa. We finally found him, secured some cream puffs and made it to the theater on time. (How many times do you think I said, "I love it when you call me Beard Papa..." ? But, at least I managed to only say it in my head!)

(I enjoyed the movie, but I feel like I'm still ... processing it.)

Picking b up, there was a wonderfully surreal moment. Hesse was on his cellphone speaking to his friend, I was on my phone letting b know that we were arriving, and some desi girl on the corner was on her phone, yet mouthing at us to "LOOK. AT. THE. MOON!" (which was gorgeous.) Hesse, having never met b, asked me if that was her And I tried to respond. Which of course confused our co-conversants on their cellphones.

Sunday - the baby shower. That also went off just as I would have liked it - low key (NO SHOWER GAMES!), small group of ridiculously amazing women, and good food. The guest of honor (besides TBF) was TBF's mom - all the way from snowy Toronto! I haven't seen her in two years - she gave me a big hug and said, "OH! I forgot how tall you are!!"

I want another day of weekend. The weather was gorgeous, and I spent as much time as I could soaking it up, but I want more. I want to cat nap on my balcony, fall asleep in my little sunny spot.

55 Fiction Friday: Therapy Edition

Friday moves out of the house, so you move next door.

Your shouting rattles the print on the wall – the one we bought at the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam. (Remember admiring the array of tulip bulbs at the Bloomenmarket? And the ridiculous amount of beer we drank that night?) I close my eyes, but it only intensifies the sound, somehow. We were so happy once.

O.P.P.

(or The Post Where I Turn into my Mother ..... AGAIN)

Dudes, I am not dealing well with O.P.P. (other people's pregnancy.) TBF is 8 mos pregnant and on bedrest. This means, ideally, she is up for 2 hours, and then rests for four hours. Repeat. TBF has two settings: 0 and 90 mph. She has no "slow and steady wins the race" mode. This bedrest thing - so hard for her.

So, I've been trying to be a good friend and call her a couple of times a day, just to check in. I gave her a call, and didn't get her. Strange, left her a message. And called a few hours later. And still didn't get her. And left a message. And called later. And left a message.

I've become my mother. My mom pulled this on me a couple of weeks ago. She called a few times, and I was really slammed with work and couldn't back to her. The refractory period between phone calls shortened. When I managed to talk to her, she told me that she had concoted some kind of "fallen and can't get up" scenario for me: that I was sick and in bed ... and alone ... and with no one to take care of me ... and couldn't get to the phone to call for help.

Mmyeah.

And I did that today with TBF. All kinds of worrying, all kinds of fearing the worst, but trying to be all rational and shit. (Humor me and tell me I had good reason.)

TBF called me - everything is FINE. She just had a number of doctor appointments. She saw my three missed calls and knew she'd best get to dialing, because I have never called that much.

Sigh. Like I said, I'm not down with O.P.P.

Also, my boyfriend on my other boyfriend's show. It's just too much.