Campaign for Unshaved Snatch (CUSS) & Other Rants

No Justice. Again.

2009-11-08T11:14:00.004-05:00

The House of Representatives passed a shitty excuse for a health care plan. ~~It includes no public option.~~ (Sorry, I misunderstood the newspaper this morning.) It also gave in to fundamentalist religious groups and barred abortion coverage for anyone obtaining health insurance with government subsidies.

Some might argue that it is wrong to use taxpayers' money for things that certain taxpayers might object to. But we do that every day, anyway. I object to the death penalty, but every execution that happens in my state (which fortunately has been none) would be partly subsidized with my tax money. I object to Halliburton receiving no bid contracts to do nothing in Iraq. I object to hiring private "security" (paramilitary) firms being paid to "guard" stuff in Iraq. I object to the ludicrous idea that companies that are contracted by the US to work in Iraq are not subject to following US laws, so that women are raped by their co-workers and fired, the company has no responsibility. I object to using taxpayer money to build sports stadiums. The list goes on and on.

The problem with democracy is that sometimes you are stuck monetarily supporting things that you find morally reprehensible. If a person doesn't like it, too fucking bad. He doesn't have the right to impose his religious beliefs on me or other people.

Of course, not all religious groups are obnoxious fucking hypocritical assholes who insist on religious freedom for themselves but them force their beliefs down the throats of others. I know this. That's why, even though I don't believe in a Judeo-Christian God, I support the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice. I think they do important work reminding people that religion does not have to oppress other people. I suppose it will be hard to continue supporting them when I live in my cave, hanging out with bats and shunning humanity, but as I said, there's no justice. I don't even know why I expect it every once in a while.

Association Residence for Respectable Aged Indigent Females

2009-11-07T09:44:00.002-05:00

A few days ago, as I walked home from Harlem, I passed a Gothic-looking building on Amsterdam between 104th and 103rd St. I knew it was the New York branch of American Youth Hostels, but noticed for the first time a little sign on a porch indicating the building's historic value. I climbed the stairs to get closer. I nearly fell down laughing when I read the header, "Association Residence for Respectable Aged Indigent Females." Wow, I would never be allowed in there! I thought.

The New York Historical Society explains that the organization:

Started in the fall of 1813 as a small association of women, the Society for the Relief of Indigent Respectable Females was formally established on February 14, 1814 in New York City. Intending to provide charity for a class of society they felt was neglected, the Society raised money largely through private donations to supply gifts of clothing, small stoves, and food for elderly women living in poverty. The Society was created out of religious obligation to a Christian ethic and continued to remain very close to the Christian faith throughout its history.

The sign on the building, though, specified that it was founded to help widows of soldiers felled in the American Revolution and War of 1812.

Setting aside the qualifications of widowhood, elderliness, and Christianity, the building would not have taken me because I have lots of opinions and voice them. It seems that respectable women are still not supposed to do that. Oh well.

Third Time x Third Time = Triple the Charm

2009-11-06T12:23:00.002-05:00

As a kid, I hated math. Hated, hated, hated it. I was often absent from school due to illness (in the early years, asthma; in the later years, depression), and so the lessons I missed created a big gap for me to overcome. My junior year of high school, I explained to my math teacher that "I'm going to be a lawyer, so I don't need math."

Fast forwarding to the day I dropped out of law school and decided to get a public policy degree... Shit, all the public service programs have stats and econ in their curricula. But I suck at math. Oy vey iz mir! Much hand wringing.

Fast forward to my second job after college, which required me to use Excel for lots of number crunching, which was something I rather liked during a college internship but dismissed...Math is fun!

Ok, now that I am completely off topic, the point of my little subject line formula is to ponder whether the adage, "The third time's the charm," is truer if you multiply the third time by three. All of this comes up because, the 9th organization that interviewed me for a job offered me a position! And I accepted. So I'm very excited.

As long as I brought up numbers, here's the rest of my job search in digits:

Number of resumes sent: over 60

Number of organizations that interviewed me: 11 (12 if you count the place that called last night)

Number of interviews: 15 (some were two step processes)

Number of offers: 1

Number of places that contacted me to request more info (like salary request or writing samples) and then never contacted me again: 2

Number of times I freaked out and got a manicure: 1

Amount of money spent on "respectable interview watch:" $40 at Filene's Basement
Amount of money spent on lipstick: $1.99, when I realized that I forgot to put it in my bag and bring it with me, so ran to Duane Reade Pharmacy

Level of anxiety about the whole situation: Immeasurable

So I'm very happy that I found a job in what I think will be a great place to work. My policy is to keep work out of my blog, so I'll just say that it is a position that requires writing and the organization works to increase economic and social justice in disenfranchised American communities. I'm psyched. Now I'm off to clean my bathroom...

The Gonifs* Win

2009-11-05T00:44:00.004-05:00

A few years ago, Rudy Giuliani, a mega Yankee fan and dictatorial mayor, put together a deal offering the Yankees a new stadium. This ballpark would be financed in part by New York City taxpayers. It would also require taking one of the few public parks in the South Bronx** and handing it over to the Yankees for the new structure. Boo! Hiss!

Then, thank to term limits (a concept I generally disagree with as it is not compatible with democratic elections, but that's another story), Giuliani could not run for mayor again. Whew! The new mayor, Michael Bloomberg, announced that the public was not in the business of building new stadiums for sports teams. Hurray! Rah rah rah!

Fast forward a few years, and Mayor Bloomberg inks a deal turning Macombs Dam Park over to the Yankees for their new stadium. There is lots of taxpayers supported financing, and a secret deal for a fancy luxury box for high ranking city officials, which somehow is called a public benefit. The Yankees also get a new MetroNorth stop, so that rich Republican assholes from Westchester need not set a foot in the surrounding neighborhood. In exchange, the Yankees agree to create a series of new little parks for the impoverished people of the South Bronx. Very generous of them, right? Boo! Hiss! Rotten tomatoes!!!

Now that the Yankees won the World Series, are the people who live in the shadows of the new stadium gathering in the newly built parks to celebrate? No, because there are no new parks. At best, there might be a park in 2011. But one of the lots promised to be a park is now actually going to be a parking lot. Sure, I understand that "parking" has the word "park" in it, but my dear Yankees, they are not one and the same.

So, go Yankees. Nice work. Taking from the poor and giving to the rich is considered an admirable American trait. You are exactly the American champions you set out to be.

*Gonif: Thief in Yiddish
**The Bronx, incidentally, is the poorest urban county in the US. The South Bronx is the poorest neighborhood in the Bronx. Clearly, these people have a lot to spare for a struggling sports team that has little revenue...

Elections: Good and Bad News

2009-11-04T08:06:00.003-05:00

For the second morning in a row, the day began with promise. I woke up early and with big plans. Then I picked up The New York Times.

At first I didn't understand what I saw. Why was that fucking anti-choice, social conservative idiot with no plans at all for how to govern New Jersey on the front cover of the paper? No paper puts a big picture of the loser, and as my friend said on Monday, a good sign that he is not intelligent is that his first and last names are more or less the same. (Maybe this would work in Scandinavia, but it is silly here, I agreed.) But no. The stupid fuck his his right-wing agenda and won. People in New Jersey chose a moron with no ideas other than attacking his opponent's plans to save their state from recession.* Good luck with that.

I was relieved, however, to learn that the Democratic candidate in a district in upstate New York won. For 150 years, this community was represented only by Republicans. (Of course, that meant something different 150 years ago when it was the party of Lincoln, but that's another story.) Crazy conservatives around the country banded together to smear the moderate Republican candidate because she had the audacity to support gay marriage and keeping abortion legal. She was supported by all the local Republican leadership. But it seems that what people want is not good enough for the fringe elements that control the Republican party, who know much better than everyone else what they want, and if you don't agree with them, you will be punished. After months of verbal assaults from the likes of Sarah Palin and Rush Limbaugh, who supporting a crazy right-wing third party candidate, the Republican dropped out right before the election and endorsed the Democrat. He won narrowly.

My interpretation of all this insanity is that people still do not want to elect hatemongers. Christie won in part because he hid his conservative agenda, and this is also true of the Republican who just won Virginia. They emphasized the economy, not hating gay people or women's reproductive rights. In upstate New York, when the candidate foisted onto the voters emphasized his intolerance of people not like him, he lost. See, Sarah Palin and Rush Limbaugh and the crazy bitch in the Times who praised the national coalition who imposed their will on a small area of New York, people do not embrace your so-called values. If you want to win and continue to oppress people with your evilness, you have to hide your agenda.

There may be hope yet.

*This reminded me why a story that we read in class that same night made me laugh. My classmate submitted a story about playing guitar in high school, and described his magnet school as offering an education to "the best and brightest of New Jersey." I thought he was making a joke about New Jersey's image as people with big bangs and a love of shopping malls, but it turned out he was serious.

Richard Peck Made Me Cry Today

2009-11-03T20:08:00.003-05:00

The day started out well. I woke up a bit before my alarm sounded, feeling refreshed. After feeding Tycho the rabbit and myself, I ran three miles at the gym. Then I scurried home to purchase U2 concert tickets for Husband. For a concert on Sept. 16, 2010.

Ticket purchasing is not as easy as it sounds. First, he had to subscribe to the band's fan site. This runs something like $50. Then he received an email with a secret code that could be used to purchase up to four tickets before they went on sale to the general public. Since Husband was at a Very Important Meeting when his special group of bribe givers was allowed to give U2 more of their money, he asked me to click on the magic link, enter the code, and secure the best tickets available, at whatever cost.

Fine. How hard can that be? Except that he already used the code he provided me for tickets for a concert this past September. And I had no access to his U2 account to find his new entree to U2 happiness. The man asked me to do a simple task, and it distressed me to no end. He works hard. All he wants are some fucking concert tickets, and I could not provide. Two frustrating hours later, I finally bought the tickets. Yay.

However, I was late for everything else I had to do today. Among other things that did not get done in a timely fashion, I missed a call from an organization offering me a job. Yay for the job offer, boo for missing the call. I left the woman an overly enthusiastic message on her voice mail at 5:30.

Blah, blah, blah. Fortunately, I arrived at school on time to hear my favorite author from when I was in 4th grade. Blossom Culp, the main character in Ghosts I Have Been, was a hero to me back then. I wanted to be her. So all semester, I'd been waiting to hear Richard Peck. During his talk about writing, he said, "I write for lonely people looking for friends in books."

Thank you, Mr. Peck.

The Nightstand Dilemma: What Would CUSS Readers Do?

2009-11-02T11:57:00.004-05:00

In Ye Olden Dayes, when people had questions about situations they faced, they traveled miles and miles on foot and donkey to seek answers. The Oracle at Delphi was popular with the ancient Greeks, for example. How lucky we are today! I am extremely grateful that I don't need to schlepp to the top of a mountain to find help for my thorny dilemmas, but instead can turn to the visionaries of the internet for their advice. This not only saves time and money, but does not require me to change out of my pajamas.*

So here, Great Sages and Visionaries of the Blogosphere, is my pressing problem: my nightstand of nine years broke. Given that I purchased it from Ikea, it's run as my bedside companion is very impressive. The drawers went a little off track a few years ago, but two weeks ago, the plastic snapped, and now the middle drawer rests in the bottom drawer.
This will not do. It is time to invest in a new nightstand.

I initially purchased a similar three drawer model from Ikea for $40. However, Husband and I managed to fuck up putting it together in rather inventive ways, and he told me never to buy anything that required construction from Ikea again. I went back to the internets and found two alternatives:

Option A:

Option B:

Now, there is nothing wrong with Option A. I could totally be fine, even happy, with Option A. It might even match a dresser that Husband has, which would be exciting. However, Option B is gorgeous. How can I not desire its sleek design and shiny wood? O, Oracle, how I covet it!

The problem is that Option B costs three times as much as Option A. Husband told me that it's OK to spend some money on nicer furniture (nicer furniture that will of course match nothing else we own, another bonus in my trashy eyes), but I can't help but feel guilty at spending so much money on a freakin' nightstand, even if it is the best nightstand ever made.

What would you do?

*To be accurate, I'm wearing my gym clothes. But whatever. It would probably be disrespectful to consult the Oracle in smelly gym pants.

NYC Marathon

2009-11-01T11:33:00.004-05:00

Today is the New York City Marathon. In honor of the event, in which I am qualified to participate in any way, shape, or form, I carbo loaded yesterday. This involved eating three large, frosted Halloween cookies over the course of the day. I also ate some roasted corn purchased at a farm stand in eastern Long Island. Then I consumed many at least seven Tootsie Rolls and one Tootsie Pop, five mini Kit Kats, and one mini Twizzlers. At lunch I downed a lobster roll in an amazing buttery brioche roll, accompanied by salty chips and fresh guacamole. Capping off my day of marathon prep, I ate a bagel with cream cheese and matzo ball soup for dinner.

When I arose this morning, basking in my free extra hour of sleep, I was ready to hit the treadmill. The plan was to run as far as I could in 35 minutes. The gym had the marathon on TV. Although the women ran at double my plodding pace (a 5:47 mile versus my 11:00 one), I felt like I matched them stride for stride as they streaked across the TV. Since I had no sinus meltdown, shoulder pain, or intestinal cramps during my run, I felt like a champion. Wooooo hooo!

Now I'm pondering the upcoming year. I'll be 35 years old at the end of December. When I was in third grade, I had to be rushed to the emergency room after I ran the 880 dash at school and was the first girl to finish, coming in third overall. Twenty years ago, I could barely walk a mile in 30 minutes. At the age of 25 and in the best shape I'll ever be in, I could run a 9:13 mile. So it's been a spotty record, but I'm proud of it. I think I'd like to run a race sometime in 2010 to celebrate my birthday. Not a marathon, but maybe a 10k or 15k. Anyone want to join me? We can plod along together (or you can leave me in your dust if you run faster. I won't be offended.)

Happy Halloween

2009-10-31T22:56:00.001-04:00

This Frankenstein cookie tastes as good as it looks. (Seriously, it was a good Halloween treat. I ate three of them.)

Mmmrrrgggaahhh (scary monster noise)! And don't forget to set your clocks back!

Dearest Room and Board

2009-10-29T18:00:00.003-04:00

Dear Room and Board,

Remember me? I came to your store in SoHo with my husband on Aug. 8. After several salespeople ignored us, one woman finally deigned to take our order for a fancy new couch. This was only because she was incompetent and unable to properly enter it into the system. When I pointed out that the receipt did not reflect what we attempted to purchase, she consulted with the manager, who suggested that she add a note modifying the purchase order.

We were then informed that our fancy new couch would arrive at the Minneapolis warehouse in late September, and we would receive it by the end of October. I found this a bit odd, since the manufacturer is in North Carolina and Minneapolis seems a bit out of the way for a couch going to New York, but I accepted the verdict. At the time, I did not realize that there was also a warehouse in New Jersey.

The oddity of it all made me nervous, so in mid-September, I decided that I didn't care if I acted like a crazy paranoid lady, and called you to check on my order. Surprise, surprise. It was wrong. Adjustments were made, and you promised that the proper couch would arrive. An even bigger surprise was when your New Jersey warehouse called me two weeks later to schedule the delivery of said wrong item.

After much confusion, your staff told me that you would hold the couch in your warehouse until the proper sofa bed arrived and would be swapped for the wrong one. Since I was originally told that I would not have the couch until late October, this did not phase me much. I could wait.

However, when your warehouse again called to deliver the sofa this week, no one seemed sure what exactly I would get. One rep said a memory foam mattress would arrive sans sofa on Thursday (bad), and that a sofa with an air mattress would be delivered on Friday (bad). Another rep said I would get a sofa with an memory foam bed (good). A third said I would only get a sofa with an air mattress (bad.) Today your incompetent sales rep called to inform me that I would receive a sofa with an air mattress and that the mattress I actually ordered was on back order. One day in the future, that would be delivered to my home and the sofa bed swapping would ensue. She said you didn't want to delay my enjoyment of the couch.

I really wanted to ask WHAT THE FUCK THE COUCH WAS DOING IN YOUR WAREHOUSE FOR FOUR FUCKING WEEKS IF THE MATTRESS WAS ON BACK ORDER WITH NO DELIVERY DATE IN SIGHT, but I instead said OK and hung up the phone. Then I called my husband and suggested that he deal with you while I go to a job interview. We concluded that we don't really want your stupid fucking couch at this point.

Thank you,
Suzanne Reisman

Maurice Runs the Wheel Out of My Head

2009-10-28T13:57:00.002-04:00

Earlier this year, I handed in a story in my lit class. I thought it was really good, so I was surprised when my instructor gave it back the next week with no comments. When I asked her why she didn't like it, she explained that she always looked forward to my work, so she was disappointed to read a story I had submitted before.

I was confused, as I was certain that I had been thinking about the story for weeks, so I didn't see how I could have handed it in already. But when I looked through my files, I discovered that I had written a story, turned it in, forgot, and then wrote almost word for word the exact same story and handed it in. It was scary.

Nine months later, I decided to write a story about my work with Haven Coalition. I knew I wrote a short piece about it first semester, so I re-read it, and used what worked. I thought I wrote a scene in which I was at my desk at work, the phone rang, and my first hosting night was arranged. But when I looked through my files (eerie music), I found a story I wrote almost exactly a year ago that, almost word for word, had the same opening.

Maurice, the hamster who runs the wheel that powers my brain, is scaring me. On one hand, if I wrote almost the exact same thing a year apart, I think it means that I had an important idea, and I'm glad that I did not forget. The fact that I have no memory of doing this is disturbing.

Luke, I Am Your Father*

2009-10-27T09:08:00.004-04:00

I came across this picture in New York Magazine this morning under the headline, "Katie Lee, Movin' Out." My mind properly triggered, I made the link between the cute ~~girl~~ woman pictured and singer Billy Joel. I thought, "Oh, it's a good thing that Billy Joel's daughter looks just like her mom, Christie Brinkley. And how nice that she's moving out of her dad's house to work on her celebrity cookbook line."

Then I remembered that Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley's daughter is named Alexa, and that she looks like her dad. When I read the article, and realized that this woman is Billy Joel's ex-wife. Ooops.

*OK, as I recently learned, this line was never actually in the movie, and the actual dialog is:

Luke: You killed my father!
Darth Vader: No. I am your father.

but this whole post is about misunderstandings, so it seems fitting.

The Republican in My Apartment

2009-10-26T07:40:00.000-04:00

I am not biased against all Republicans. In fact, I realized that I live with one. It was a little bit of a shock at first, but I sort of even adore him.

How did I figure out that there's a covert Republican in my household? I evaluated his key personality traits:

1. He is greedy. If offered a piece of candy or raisin, he gobbles it down without thanking the giver, as if he is owed the treat. Then he expects more and turns his back if additional bribes are not provided.

2. He makes messes and does not clean up after himself. However, he seems to be a moderate Republican, as I am not subjected to hypocritical griping about how other people need to take more responsibility for their actions. He just expects me to clean up after him.

3. His situation in life is inherited. He does nothing all day, yet lives a very nice lifestyle, thanks to other hardworking members of society who provide for him.

4. He seems to like the Yankees. (This is not definite proof that he is a Republican, as I know some excellent old school New Yorkers who are liberal and root for the greediest corporate welfare team in America.) While I watched the play off games, he emerged from his space and joined me a bit. He never did this when I watched Mets games in the past. Everyone knows that the Mets are the team of the people. (Yeah, losers like the rest of us chumps, but I digress.)

Here he is doing what Republicans do best, which is mooching off hard working, honest people after sitting around all day doing nothing to earn their keep:

Tycho is cute, though. And since e can't help his small-brained natural instincts for survival, I forgive him.

I Hear the Secrets that You Keep

2009-10-25T10:08:00.000-04:00

Someone recently blogged that this song was stuck in her head (Count Mockula, I think?), but apparently I don't have to close my eyes and go to sleep to blab my lame "secrets." No, a low grade fever, a medium dose of insomnia, and a high level of rue for something stooopid I did, combined with Facebook status chatting, is all it takes. Last Thursday night/Friday morning, I confessed to my 7th grade (possibly part of 8th grade, I get confused about timing) crush that I liked him back in the day! Ooooooooooh.... (No, it wasn't "Arnold" from Always. I feel like such a slut. Ha! That's sadly about as slutty as I get - overlapping school crushes. Oy vey iz mir!)

Whatever the case, I sat at my computer blushing like an idiot. (Or maybe I was flushed from fever? It was not a super high fever, just a smidge above 99, although for me that's a bit higher than it is for others because my usual body temperature is 97.5 or something low like that. Husband says it is because I am a cold-hearted bitch. He is hilarious, no?) You know what's funny? For a second, I was actually sad when he didn't say that he had also had a crush on me. I had kinda believed, back in the day, that my crush was not unrequited. Like, this was over 20 years ago, but I still took it as a rejection.

On a related note, earlier in the week, I tried quizzing Husband about his junior high days to "get into the head of a 13 year old boy" so I could maybe fix up my young adult novel. He hesitantly submitted to my questions:

Me:"Did you go to junior high dances?"
Husband: "No."
Me: "Why not? Weren't you interested in them?"
H: "Yes, but no one would dance with me because I was a loser. Do I have to talk about this? I prefer not to relive those days."
Me: (Kissed him on the head) "Well, this cold-hearted bitch would have wanted to dance with you."
H: "Thanks."

Yeah, junior high just sucks.

Where Husband's Money is Going

2009-10-24T10:15:00.002-04:00

An email exchange:

> -------- Original Message --------
> Subject: where your money is goingq
> From: Suzanne Reisman

If it makes you feel better, New School was just ranked by "Poets & Writers" magazine as the #3 nonfiction MFA program.

Nah, it doesn't make me feel better, either. :)

--

[Husband@husband.com] wrote:

The accolades are piling up. I hear "Delaying Reality" magazine ranked
New School's MFA program quite highly as a top place for trust fund kids
to cool their heels for two years.

> -------- Original Message --------
> Subject: where your money is goingq
> From: Suzanne Reisman
>
In that fine publication, Columbia ranked even higher, though.

---

[husband@husband.com] wrote:

Yes. And I was only talking about MFA programs. In the review of all
graduate programs, "Delaying Reality" ranked 327 law schools before the
Columbia MFA at #328.

> -------- Original Message --------
> Subject: Re: where your money is goingq
> From: Suzanne Reisman

I have to disagree with that analysis. Certainly, law school buys more time for trust funders before they have to enter the real world, but at least most people graduate law school with some sort of job, even if they hate it and abandon it a few years later to get an MFA.

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

2009-10-23T08:57:00.000-04:00

I really love my neighborhood. Husband and I relocated to the Upper West Side from Greenwich Village begrudgingly upon graduating from NYU, but once we were here, we realized that we belonged. Not even our first apartment, an illegally sublet, 200 square foot former maid's quarters with no stove or oven, deterred us. We rented it because I wanted to live near Fordham Law School, which I was set to attend, and it was the best thing we could afford. (Seriously.) Law school lasted less than three days, but we stayed in the apartment for three years.

Once we decided to move on, we knew we wanted to live in the West 70s. Eventually the plan was to buy a place, and our residency on West 72nd above a photo studio (which decorated the basement garbage room with old wedding portraits - how hilarious is that, assuming you are not in the photo?), message parlor/day spa, and car service dispatching center lasted a little over two years. Not long after we moved in, we saw a news report about a cold case in our building. A dominatrix linked to Marv Alberthad been murdered there in 1997. (Her case is still unsolved, as far as I know.) I'm making it sound crappy, but it was a good place to live, although loud due to heavy traffic.

When it came time to buy a place, Husband's parameters were between W. 70th and W 75th Streets and Columbus and West End Avenues. This is a five block radius, which is absolutely ludicrous given our limited budget, but so it goes. When I made an appointment to see an apartment one block outside his guidelines, he spazzed a bit, but it was the best place we saw in our price range by far, and eventually we signed the mortgage papers and moved in. Now, almost seven years later, we still love our home and the neighborhood.

Here's why: There are lots of places to eat. My favorite restaurants include S'mac(a macaroni and cheese joint), Fred's, Harry's Burritos, Kefi, and Earthen Oven. Diners also abound. And three top bakeries: Crumbs, Magnolia, and Levain (greatest peanut butter chip chocolate cookie ever, butit has like a full day's worth of calories in it) are all within a few blocks, too.

There's culture. The JCC Manhattan has tons of free and cheap events for the public. The classic Beacon Theater was recently refurbished, and features everything from Bob Weir (who played last night, so the sidewalk was full of old hippies) to Tyler Perry productions. Right about the Beacon Theater is the Hotel Beacon, which recently underwent its own huge renovation. When my parents and bubbe came for my book party last August, I tried to get them a room there, but it was booked. (My sister and brother-in-law stayed with us, so there was no more room.) Chaos ensued. I think I also tried On the Ave and The Lucerne, but they were too expensive or booked or both. I can't remember, and I'm off the topic now. Sorry... My neighborhood also has two large movie theaters, and, oh - Lincoln Center.

There's shopping. Besides Fairway, the best grocery store ever, there are two Whole Foods stores within a mile of my apartment. A Trader Joe's is coming soon to a corner near me. And I am "treated" to an ever expanding array of retail chains, like Bed, Bath & Beyond and Loehman's, which is both a blessing and a curse.

Great public transportation. Many subway and bus lines. I can pretty much get anywhere I need to be conveniently and for $2.25, no driving required. Yay!

Anyway, I've rambled long enough. If you ever want to visit, I should one day, before hell freezes over, have my stupid new queen size sofa bed with memory foam mattress that we ordered in August. Don't forget - the BlogHer conference will be in NYC in August 2010! It's a great opportunity to hang with me in my neighborhood. I might even have the damn couch by then.

This is a TravelingMom dedicated post

PDA

2009-10-22T11:08:00.000-04:00

No one gave me the memo, but based on graphic anecdotes, yesterday was PDA Day. By PDA, I sadly am not referring to Personal Digital Assistants, like my BlackBerry. Every day in New York City is that PDA Day. It's impossible to go anywhere without someone walking into you because he or she is texting while walking down the street. (Guilty!)

Rather, yesterday seemed to be Public Displays of Affection Day. But really it was EGPDA (Extremely Graphic/Gross Personal Displays of Affection) Day. I have only two examples, but I am certain they were part of a wider trend that I missed by staying home all day and watching Top Chef re-runs to recover from whatever stomach bug had me in bed and on the toilet all day on Tuesday. (As an aside, I do not recommend watching "Top Chef" or other food-oriented shows while you are eating toast, bananas, and Jell-O and starting to recover your appetite. Just saying.)

I ventured out at 7 pm to go to class. Still a little weak from lack of food over the last 36 hours, I took the only seat available when I got on the subway. Unfortunately, this was directly across from a couple sucking face. Literally. I might have been part of some horror movie scene in which it seems like a couple is making out, but really the girl is some sort of face eating monster-bot. They did not stop for air once between 72nd Street and 42nd St. The groaning and swaying were over the top. Of course, this happened to be the time I had nothing with me to read, so I had no idea where to look. I tried staring at the bag on my lap, but that didn't stop the pleasure noises from invading my ears. At any moment, I thought the girl was going to unzip the guy and give him a blow job.

Then, as I walked home from my subway stop after school, I encountered another couple going at it. They stood right in front of the Jewish Community Center, vacuum suctioned onto one another's mouths. The man was feeling the woman up right on the corner!!! Unlike on the subway, I noticed two other people pointing at the lovers and laughing.

People, have you no sense of decorum? How bad is it when I, a person who writes about throwing brown acidic stomach contents through my nose, am the arbiter of good taste? Yeesh. New Yorkers, go back to your BlackBerries and clueless and antisocial wandering!

Theo* Gets a Bath

2009-10-21T14:30:00.000-04:00

It could have been worse. While ailing in bed yesterday, I sat up to take a sip of Gatorade. I didn't sit up enough, though, and the viscous reddish-pink fluid tricked out of the bottle, down my chin, and onto Theo's head. It looked like someone hit him on his matted head and he bled out. I dabbed at my little victim with a tissue, but Gatorade is powerful.

When Husband came home from work, he told me that we both looked awful. This was probably saying less for me than for Theo, as I had just taken a shower, and he hadn't been bathed in years. "Why didn't you put Theo in the wash?" he asked. "It's long overdue anyway."

The pathetic part of all of this is that I wanted to wash Theo up, but I didn't have the strength to deal with even a simple task like that. Today, however, I am 115% better. I put Theo in a pillow case and when he came out of the machine, the Gatorade-assault victim look was gone. He also smelled fresher. Hurray for the new washer!

*Theo is my long time companion bear.

Puke

2009-10-20T12:16:00.000-04:00

After I posted the last chapter of Always, I went to school. My story about my grandfather's life was set to be workshopped. I was nervous, but figured that it was still better than something I wrote 20 years ago, even if it had no similes.

The workshop was extremely helpful, but also brutal. People were very generous with their praise for what worked, and constructive with why the parts that didn't work failed. I may have improved my writing since "Always," but damn, I have a long way to go.

Class left me both drained and with lots to ponder, but I joined a few friends for food and drink anyway. Indulging myself, I ordered chocolate pudding at the French restaurant we went to. It came with this luscious almond studded chocolate cookie thing (it was sort of like a chocolate waffle cone) and sugary whipped cream. I felt nauseated after I ate the cookie and a few bites of pudding, but ignored it.

When I finally got home, I still felt sick. My undiagnosed mysterious digestive ailment does this to me every once in a while, so I went to bed, figuring I'd feel better in the morning. Dear Reader, false hope. Oh, false hope.

Since I woke up, I have done nothing but puke and crap. It was so bad at one point that I even shit myself, ruining a pair of underwear that I really like. At other times, I lay on the bathroom floor, writhing with cramps. I worried about dehydration, but my second round of vomiting was the Gatorade I sipped to prevent that. I also have a low fever.

Sam Tanenhaus is scheduled to speak at school tonight about his book, The Death of Conservatism. I'm not sure I buy his theory about the two different types of conservatives - good ones who see that government can be positive and bad ones who, in the words of Grover Nordquist, want to shrink it to the size where it can be drowned in the bathtub - but I've been looking forward to the event all semester. It is pretty rare that my political interests and my literary interests collide. Now I can't go. Puke. (Well, I could go and puke on the conservatives, but that is pretty rude, and I don't want to stoop to their behavior. Plus there aren't likely to be many conservatives in a New School audience.)

And That's the Whole Story

2009-10-19T17:36:00.000-04:00

Since the job search is going slooooow, and I'm caught up with my school work, I figured I'd stretch out typing up Always until tomorrow. Then I found out that Planned Parenthood needed volunteers tomorrow for a health insurance campaign, so I figured I could at least do something productive with my time. Plus, I got an email from a friend complementing me on my "sweet" story, noting that my "use of dramatic irony was pretty sophisticated for a middle-schooler." And nothing motivates me more than flattery, so I got my ass in gear and got the rest of the story online.

I'm glad that someone is enjoying the cheese-tastic goodness of my weird 13 year old ego. Regardless, I definitely watched too much LA Law, Hill Street Blues, and St. Elsewhere. Oy vey.

"Those People"

2009-10-19T14:22:00.000-04:00

After days of cold rain, the sun is out today. Yay!

I went to the gym and had a good weightlifting session. Yay! (Or at least yay until I can't move my arms tomorrow.)

Two interviews that I went to last week yielded follow up interviews. Yay!

The shocking - shocking! -climax of Always is near. I should finish by the end of tomorrow. Yay!

So I was in a pretty good mood when I sat down to eat lunch. I read an article in the New York Times about Giuliani's stumping for Bloomberg in the mayoral election. He said:

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Mr. Giuliani said at a breakfast sponsored by the Jewish Community Council in Borough Park, Brooklyn. “This city could very easily be taken back in a very different direction — it could very easily be taken back to the way it was with the wrong political leadership.”

Not that I am surprised at all that he would say such a thing. His tactics led to enormous civil rights abuses and lawsuits against the city that cost taxpayers tens, if not hundreds, of millions of dollars, with no conclusive link to a drop in crime in the city. (Crime was down in large cities across the country, something Giuliani probably tries to take credit for, too.)

I've always hated Giuliani. He's always done his best to exploit fear and act as petty as possible in any given situation. The first thing I thought of after I threw the paper down and stomped around swearing was a recent post on BlogHer, Top Ten Reasons I Am Not a Racist by Nordette Adams. (The actual, brilliant top 10 list appears in Part 2.) I have no doubt that Giuliani would be offended at the mere suggestion that his tactics are racist. Sigh. You know how "those people" are.

Truth or Dare

2009-10-18T14:38:00.000-04:00

Two new chapters are up at Always. I must have been drunk with words as I typed them up, as I could not stop hiccuping. The force of the hiccups jerked my head and hands each time, so there are probably more typos than usual or intended. (I'm copying exactly what's in the notebook, so the punctuation is not great.)

Chapter 13 is all about a party that the main characters attend. It features, of course, the game "Truth or Dare." This is the second time that "Truth or Dare" appears in the story, but of course, nothing really interesting happens because I was/am a total nerd. It cracks me up. I was obsessed with this game through even the early years of high school. (And when the Madonna documentary came out, my dorky friends and I were rendered giddy by the title. Oooooh! "Truth or Dare!" How exciting!)

When I was in eighth grade, I once played a more risque version of Truth or Dare called Two Minutes in the Closet. Since were there three girls and only one boy, this was not such a balanced game. I was excited to kiss someone. That's about as far as I was willing to go. These days, it blows my mind how naive that was, although I am sure that there are plenty of geeks who also feel the way I did, just as I am sure that there were many kids who were doing all sorts of things that I barely even knew existed. OK, so I have no point except that I was a nerd whose heights of ecstasy didn't progress beyond slow dancing close to some guy. Whatever.

Memoir, Fiction, and Balls vs. Testicles in Literature

2009-10-16T11:30:00.000-04:00

I read Frank Conroy's memoir Stop-Time for my lit seminar on Wednesday. What's good about it is the writing. Conroy doesn't tell his story in a linear fashion, and at times switches to the present tense. I just tried both of these techniques for a story that I handed in last week which will be workshopped on Monday, so it is nice to have another successful model to learn from. (I patterned my work on A Feather on the Breath of God by Sigrid Nunez.)

During a break from the meandering class discussion, a friend calculated that we pay $125 an hour for our classes. We resumed class. After a ten minute debate on Conroy's use of the word "balls," which our professor defended by saying, "Balls is a great word," I thought about other uses I had for $20.84 I spent for that. Not that I disagree that balls is a great word or really minded talking about whether Conroy should have used "testicles" instead of balls, but still. That's a lot of money for something I talk about for free all the time.

Speaking of balls, I posted four more chapters of Always. Chapter 9 is one of my favorites so far, and Chapter 10 (not to be confused with Chapter 10*, as I had two chapter tens) is one of the most gag-inducing. The similes flow in Chapter 11 most impressively. I actually learned a lot from myself from twenty years ago while typing up this work.

The Point

2009-10-15T10:29:00.000-04:00

Author Binnie Kirshenbaum spoke at school on Monday night. She read from her latest book, The Scenic Route, which was hilarious and also troubling. During the Q&A, she relayed an anecdote that got Maurice* in a frenzy. Kirshenbaum said that she was telling her husband a story one day, and as usual, she went into a digression that she thought provided important context for the story.

"Get to the point," her husband interrupted her.

"What do you mean, 'get to the point?'" she asked him. "There is no point. I'm telling you a story to entertain you."

After I stopped laughing, I thought about what that meant for me. One of the things we are always talking about at school is what the point of our work is, the "so what?" that gets people to read something. When people ask me what my point is, 99% of the time I have no answer. I just want to tell a story. Maybe, if the story is told well, that's all the point that one needs.

Speaking of pointless, more chapters of the young adult novel I wrote when I was in 8th grade are ready to entertain (and I use that word loosely in this situation) at Always.

*Maurice is the hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain.

Cheese-tastic

2009-10-13T09:06:00.000-04:00

My face hurts, probably due to all the cringing I did while typing up Chapters 2 - 4 of Always, the atrocious young adult book that I wrote when I was in eighth grade. Why I decided to use a male narrator is beyond me. Also puzzling: why give half the characters fake names, but then use the real names (or ridiculously close to real names - Suzannah, anyone?) for others. I wonder what Maurice* was thinking all those years ago.

What most embarrasses me and interests me about Always is the combination of how I saw myself at that time, and how I wanted to be perceived. My favorite line so far, hands down, is "I got the feeling that when Suzannah Rawlings spoke, people usually listened." Oh man, how I wished that were true!

*The hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain.