what vivid life moments?

A writing and memory exercise.

Here is my attempt to record some of those memories as completely as possible, the ones that pop into one's mind at unexpected moments. It could be something that happened years ago, an unimportant second from another lifetime, totally forgotten until now.

So here is my random diary of unimportant moments, we'll see how it goes.

Friday, December 31, 2010

I really hate New Year's Eve

Or, I should say, rather, that I used to hate New Year's Eve, until I realized how much I was hating it, and then somehow, gave myself the permission to stop caring about it so freakin' much.  And now I can relax and admit that right now I would much prefer staying home with my kids watching Star Wars instead of trudging out to some local performance in town and having "fun."

God I sound like such a Grinch!  Let me explain.  It's all the pressure to have some kind of amazing experience and get more wasted than one's usual judgement would allow.  And for what?  So I can prove to myself that my life is fun and worthwhile?  That I am loved and cherished?  The worst is the countdown.  God forbid there is nobody there to kiss! 

There have been many ups and downs of life, some truly wonderful times and dark and lonely ones, but I have never felt worse about myself than on some certain New Year's Eves.  You know what I mean.  Looking back, I think if I just could have relaxed and remembered that "all things must pass,"  it would've seemed at least okay.

My first memory of New Year's angst was at some point in adolescence, and I was staying up to midnight with my father and grandparents, in their old haunted hoarder house.  (See the "barbie head" post.)  Just that alone......I was celebrating with old relatives.  At midnight my father uncorked a bottle of something and shouted "Happy New Year!"  with so much embarrassing glee I wanted to melt into the floor, afraid that some of my peers, hundreds of miles away, might find out about this.

How sad is that.  I want to go back and kick my adolescent butt.  My dear father, gone now for almost 20 years, and I couldn't even appreciate a nice moment with him.  I suppose that's typically how adolescence goes, but still.  If I could have just halfway accepted the circumstances....I might not have been so miserable on New Year's Eve.  Well, hopefully now I've finally learned my lesson!

Thursday, December 30, 2010

throwing cookies to meet boys

No, I am not talking about anything metaphorical here.  Just this--freshman year, way up on the 7th floor, large window that looked out to the quad, where roving bands of lonely males from the local engineering college would wander.  Those Entenmann's chocolate chip cookies, remember those?  My perky blond roommate put two and two together, and soon those cookies were being dropped, one by one, like bait to lure in those dudes all the way up to the 7th floor.  Soon our dorm room was filled with males, nowhere even to sit down.  It was instantly the "cool room."  Mostly they turned out to be rather nice decent guys, and sure enough my roommate ended up with one of them as her steady before the week was over.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

the catsitter

Well I am just appalled at myself in retrospect but I have to say, maybe it's not the best idea to hire a teenage girl to LIVE with your cat while you are away.  I mean, living in your apartment, sleeping in your bed, so your cat won't get lonely.  Unless you don't mind her going through all your private belongings, and eating every scrap of food.  Cutting school and making prank phone calls all day long.  Sampling every bit of makeup in the cabinet.  Considering every piece of clothing you own, to see how it would look and does it fit.  Private letters from old boyfriends?  Don't leave them around.  Any reading material on the bookshelves that might be a bit inappropriate?  I mean, what was she thinking!  And does the White Album really say "Paul is Dead" when you play it backwards?  She's going to really work on finding that out, using your very expensive turntable!  But at least the cat wasn't lonely, and certainly got alot of entertainement.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

she had the Barbie-head, and I didn't

And that just sums it up.  I mean, doesn't it just?  The thing both horrified and fascinated me.  There has been a well-documented history of little girls torturing their barbie dolls, but this girl was already done for.  For those of you who don't remember, this was just a big, life-sized Barbie head, sitting there in front of you, and you got to do her hair and makeup.  Decapitated on a platter like that guy in the Bible story, and now she was going to look pretty!

Oh yeah, it was my cousin.  And I never ever would have gotten a barbie as a present.  Eveything was like that.  She had straight blond hair, I was messy brunette.  She had a pinball machine and ping-pong in her basement, wherease I had ghosts in my basement.  (this was my grandparents house: http://chathamhistory.org/archivehouses1l.html)

In a way, I still really want one, and in another way, it just reminds me of the Tower of London, where I nearly threw up and passed out as a kid when I saw the place where they chopped of the heads of those poor prisoners. 

I'm finishing up those last minute holiday gifts for my kids, and now I'm thinking I could probably find a toy guillotine online somewhere.  Don't you think my kids would just love that, and then their friends would be the ones who are jealous and traumatized!

Friday, December 17, 2010

crackhead ruins job opportunity

I've graduated college and have no life plan.  (I was an art major, can you tell?)  In those days of yore, the late 80's, right before that thing called the inter-net was invented, people applied for jobs by looking in this thing called a "newspaper,"(1)  and using this thing called  a "telephone" (2).  For some unknown reason that I can't understand, I am using a "payphone" (3)\ while standing in the middle of Grand Central Station, in New York City. aka, crackhead central. (4)

I thought it might be oh so fun, to work at the Gap.  So I called them up, hoping I could drop my resume by and maybe talk to someone, but unfortunately they started asking me questions right then and there.  "Why do you want to work at the Gap?"  "What makes you an outstanding customer service/salesperson?"  "Are you wearing Gap clothing now, and how do you feel about it?"

As I stumble out my pathetic generation X standard lame responses, I stare into space, hoping for divine guidance from the universe, but unfortunately, space seems to be occupied, by a crackhead.  Damn, I"ve made eye contact, and now he's approaching.  Doesn't he know that I"m trying to converse with The Gap?  I try to concentrate but it's no use.  I can barely hear the peppy questions being asked because they are being overpowered by scary questions like "xcooooooz me laaaady...?"  It's like attack of the zombies....."Canyoumaybe heelb me oout widah coupla doolahs?"  Well....I don't have to tell you how this all ended, it's probably fairly obvious.

footnotes:
(1)  "Newspaper"  Thin pieces of paper bearing information that they used in the stone age
(2) "telephone"  Primitive communication device that they used in the stone age
(3) "payphone" same as above, but covered in slime in public places
(4) "crackhead central" was Grand Central Station in the 80's before you could buy sushi there.  It was something like the 7th level of Hell.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

he didn't anticipate the pregnancy hormones

So I am about nine months pregnant.  You get the picture, the goddess mama waddling along ninth street in brooklyn, in my hiking boots cause those are the only things that fit at this point.  I am still going into work, and my coworkers are looking more and more panicked every time I walk in the door.  Some are quite blatant: "You're not going to have that baby right here, are you?" and "Oh,....my....God... You're HUGE."  Which, by the way, you should NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER say to a pregnant woman, no matter how much she may resemble a whale.  Because she will remember it, FOREVER.  And hate you forever.  Sorry, I'm a little sensitive about this subject I suppose.

Anyway, I digress.  So I am dutifully wearing one of the hideously ugly purple maternity shirts, but, as I mentioned, my belly is really quite huge at this point, along with....other parts of my body.  So things were a bit....tight.  But feeling sexy, I most definitely, am not.  So somewhere along ninth street there is a dive bar where the old drunken sailors start drinking at eight o'clock in the morning and one of them is standing in the doorway and growls "hey you sexy sexy"etc. etc. etc.  Oh man, he has pissed off the mama bear.  What, he thought I would be a smart sensible New Yorker and keep on walking?  Oh, no.  I turn, I growl, and attack.  "What the *&**** do you think you are saying that to a pregnant woman for!  What kind of person are you?"  On and on I rage, not caring if everyone has stopped walking and is staring in amazement.  Now he's scared.  He'd been hoping for just a little fun morning sexual harassment, he didn't anticipate the pregnancy hormones.  A look of panic and fear spreads over his face.  He tries to go hide back in his bar.  Stupidly, I actually go INTO the dive bar and continue screaming.  (smart, huh?).  He cowers and retreats further into some back room.  With no further target for attack, mama bear sighs and heads back out into the world.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

that woman is surprisingly attractive

St. Mark's place in the East Village, New York City, late 80's, teenage me.  Walking along the sidewalk, there is a radiant goddess strutting royally, looking confidently straight ahead, like she "just don't care."  Or rather, to put it more accurately, her boobs are.  Although I am a straight woman as far as I know, I couldn't not stare at her magnificent boobs, pushed up and glowing like the only two planets in the universe.  She sees me staring and she smiles!  Could she be cultivating reactions such as mine?  A moment later I notice that she is surrounded on all sides by a silent troup of.....cool people.  Oh, also she is dressed like Gretel, side braids and all. A very slutty, hot, Gretel that you wouldn't take home to mama. 

This is a person who, unlike my teenage self, definitely craves attention.  Which is one reason this moment stands out so much for me, as I was the complete opposite at that time in my life.  The energy she exuded, was just something that had never occured to me.  What an idea, what a new possibility of being!  For one moment in the east village, the ying and the yang collided.

Of course it was Madonna!  Now if you live somewhere like New York or LA, you know that you run into celebrities often and you're supposed to feel cool by acting like you don't care and you're really busy with your own great life.  In my teenage defense I would like to say that I didn't at that moment actually recognize consciously who she was, and also she's alot...shorter and more petite that one would expect.  There.

Whew.  I had to wait until the kids were in bed before I could write this post!

Monday, December 13, 2010

small gesture

Eight years old, and learning one of life's universal lessons, of losing a loved one.  My grandmother is going to leave us, and for the first time Christmas is feeling bittersweet.  There is love all around and yet I feel so alone, nobody can really explain to me what is going on and their sadness just seeps into me.  In Santa Fe, New Mexico, I'm far from home for the first time.  The incredible colorful beauty of that winter made a permanent impression.  The ever changing light in the sky embraced me.

I'm at a children's holiday party at the local university, and there is a pinata that exploded candy all over the floor and I freeze. Mobs of kids run for their loot and I cannot make my move.  One of the college kids, guy with long blond hair (it was the 70's) makes eye contact with me and understands what's going on.  Not only that I can't go grab candy, but really sees me and all my pain.  My personal angel, he reassures and holds my hand and helps me get some candy.  Thirty years later I am still so grateful to him!

Scary for me about life is that small gestures can be monumental depending on their timing.  Someone can be on the brink of despair and it can be all the difference to them.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

fingerpainting in nursery school

The easel is taller than me, and I'm swirling my hand around on the smooth paper, feeling the sensations of cold mush and watching the green and blue gradually blend into each other.  It vaguely strikes me as a weird thing to do, but I don't question it, as it is clearly what is expected here in nursery school.  One girl has a cold and there is snot running down out of both nostrils, slowly dripping, dripping, downward as gravity does it's work.  It's disgusting!  How she just stands like that and is more and more covered in snot every second!  Grooossssss!!!  I just stand and watch her, and she watches me back.

Friday, December 10, 2010

You have something....

The morning is cold and white, crisp and reassuring.  Seems like nobody else is awake yet, and nobody can see me yet, a safe feeling.  Walking past stores that are not yet open, windows with blinds closed, shades drawn like closed eyelids.  My feet are soft on the ground in my treetorn sneakers, the required footwear of teens in the 1980's in this upscale wealthy suburb.  I feel every crack on the sidewalk, every bump and stone is reassuring, it is the same as it was yesterday.  I shrug along in my giant packpack, dreading the day ahead, hoping it will bring nothing of note.  I dress so as not to be noticed, wearing the same jeans as yesterday, one of three I own.  Up from behind me walks a classmate, not a friend but friendly enough.  "You have a sock hanging out of your pants," she says, not unkindly.  Dammit, I knew it, not matter how hard I try I just can't seem to dress right, and someone has noticed.  I act casual, ripping out the sock from my pants leg and tucking it into my coat pocket.  I keep acting like that all through high school, like being inadvertantly humiliated just doesn't bother me at all.