fiddle-dee-dee

I went into 2011 as excited as anyone could be. As we all know by now, I am a fan of thresholds and fresh starts and couldn’t wait to leave behind the ball buster of 2010 and embark, all shiny and clean, on what I truly believed was going to be a better year. Now, however, I seem to be channeling my inner Republican and it looks like I will have to beat 2011 until it's bloody, stuff it in a sack and threaten it to be kinder and gentler cause we’re 12 days in and, well, it’s sucked so far.

That said, I do not believe it will always suck and this very morning I woke up with the sun to meditate on magic and blessings and blah, blah, blah cause I still believe in the power of a new day but, like I said, the first 12 days have sucked and I have been so caught up in the full frontal suckitude that I haven’t wanted to write or workout or do much of anything besides going back to my old job of staring out the window and sighing. Also, it bears mentioning that it’s ever so slightly possible that I have PMS.

Let’s take a look at the last couple of weeks and see where we are:

FAMILY

A bomb went off in my family over the holidays, which is nothing new for anyone really but this explosion was our worst yet and with none of the romance of a tidy world war or doughboys or happy, kissing nurses. You know that picture of Kim Phuc, the young Vietnamese girl running down the road after being hit with Napalm? That was how I left my family’s house and now I don’t have a clue how to treat the burns, even though they are only emotional ones.

The rending of our village was, in many ways, long overdue but it’s still painful and confusing and, sadly, kind of permanent. Over the holidays, and before the war, we spent days working on a jigsaw puzzle. We have always loved them and this time was no different but if we, the family, were a jigsaw puzzle then we would be one of those mind melters that’s all white or all orange – possible to put back together IF you are willing to take the time and deal with the frustration and impermanent victories.

Right now, I can’t see myself committing to the work required so I merely look at the pieces scattered all over the floor and hope that someone will find a way to make everything fit back together again. Ugh to infinity.

WORK

Gosh, it’s been quiet around here, huh? A crickets riding tumbleweeds kind of quiet and I apologize. Last time I checked, I was half-way through the second part of the carousel post and then I just, sort of, stopped. I have been thinking about this a lot because, despite all evidence to the contrary, I actually have a decent-ish work ethic and this total laziness has been troubling to me.

Thing is, I was writing about something that happened with my dad and this carousel at Coney Island and it was just so painful a memory and so hard to make funny or entertaining that I decided to walk away from it entirely. The problem is, however, that until I grow a pair and am able to write about those kinds of things too, I’ll never be the writer (or the person) I really want to be. So, I’m gonna dust it off and examine it the way it demands – like a detective who just knows, deep down, that this is the clue that will crack the whole case wide open.

Gulp.

SAM

Oh you guys, I’m in a muddle. A week after the break up and in some kind of utopian haze, Sam and I decided to be friends. Fine. Great even. The reality of said friendship, however, has been a bit more challenging. Mostly, it’s been two things:

1. Really, really good times cause he’s funny and sweet and surprising and game and beautiful and vulnerable and sexy with his whole “I have a great voice and it comes in two languages so go ahead and try to resist THAT, homegirl” thing that drives me absolutely wild.

2. Confusing.

We were on the phone Sunday and he referred to himself as my best friend and I admit, I had to take a minute to consider whether this is true and, yep, it is. Well, ONE of them, at least. It’s kind of nuts, actually, cause the rest of the people that fall under the title “best friend” have been up in my mix for decades but somehow after three months, he managed to get himself in there. Well played, Sam. Well played.

Upon further reflection, though, I realize that he’s actually in a category by himself cause, unless I am very, very drunk or on some kind of “cough” medicine, I don’t fantasize about having sex with the other best friends in my life but I do still fantasize about having sex with Sam. So, I'm wondering if it is even remotely possible to just be friends with someone you used to date and even if it is - is it possible for me?

Everyone told me that it was too soon to launch into a strictly platonic relationship with Sam and I guess they were right cause even though it's fine most days, sometimes I do get confused and have to put my head down and take a nap. We tell each other that we are in each others lives for good and I really hope we are cause it’s super rare to meet someone like him or to feel as connected as we sometimes do to each other but I think that I may have, once again, put the cart before the horse because, along with PMS, I have an ever so slight case of the “in loves” with Sam. I always have and maybe I always will and maybe that's not bad. Maybe we should be more "in love" with our friends anyway and not just save it all for someone we're sleeping with. I'm not sure but I do know that I don't want to be without him, even on the days when I'm not sure how to be with him.

PETER

He has taken every opportunity, and times where no such opportunity was offered, to tell me exactly how he feels about me and this always involves yelling and tears and hours spent trying to come down afterward. The holidays only seemed to ratchet it all up and I was officially ground down to the nubbiest of nubs. This weekend I told him that hunting season on me is over. I simply can't with his crap anymore and I no longer care who knows it. I have kept the intimacies of our dealings with each other really, really quiet but I'm through with all that. So there.

BODY

I demand to speak to the manager in charge of the aging process because I didn't approve any of these changes.

MONEY

I don't have any. Plus, I just heard (seriously, got a letter this morning) that the folks over at the Unemployment office don't think I should be getting any more of theirs either. But the joke's on them because I also got another call this morning to come in and audition for a TV commercial and I'm going to go. Gonna take my non-actress butt right in there like I belong in the joint and go for it and here's why:

The other night, as I was driving home, I saw a blind, homeless man and he was smiling, children. Smiling. This, of course, put ALL kinds of stuff into perspective so I’ll give myself the rest of today to pout and then take a damn Midol and get on with it…