Lost in Translation

Daylight Savings

2006-11-01T22:19:00.000-08:00

Daylight savings robs me of an hour of sleep.

Daylight savings means I teach tired, grumpy kids (what else is new though, honestly! School starts at 8 in the freaking morning. I'm with them.)

Daylight savings means that I come home from work in the black, at 4:30 or 5.

Daylight savings seem to mean less time when I have so much more to get done.

Daylight savings makes me wish for snow. And Christmas. Epiphany, Valentine's Day. Early November needs to have its own holiday. I'll make one up. Shakespeare Day, anyone?

Daylight savings makes me crave, crave, crave sleep. What am I doing not in bed?

I look out to The Ocean

2006-10-25T22:47:00.000-07:00

The Sea

Here's a poem I wrote the other day:

I look out to the ocean,
In times of trouble,
I go out to the ocean,
The ocean, where I sink my toes in the sand,
gripping onto reality,
where I run and run and run,
over pinksilversand dunes, down craggy rocks,
The ocean, where I stand at the shore,
looking out, looking out,
to the ocean.
I feel so small
where I lose my eyes, my sight in the blurred line,
between horizon and sea,
where I imagine the rough, the restless, the salty waves,
tumbling over, scraping my soul
free of all the guilt, the wants, the unsatisfied longings,
the anger, the envy, the helplessness,
the residue of life,
Yes, all this, scraping all this,
the remembrances of those dreadful dark days,
When your whole soul yearned for peace, death, anything but this,
all that, all that and everything,
Everything else,
is dredged from your soul, is torn away
even though you may feel safer keeping it,
the sea deposits it on the ocean,
on the blessed sand, and the sea bids it goodbye,
and rides out again,
to bless you, to caress your soul, the born-again skin,
to twine about your hidden thoughts,
with salty whispers
that is pain, that is passion, that is love,
that is your own tears,
that is the bittersweet embrace
Because when I am in times of trouble,
I look out to the ocean.

My Past

2006-10-18T16:51:00.000-07:00

I used to be married

I used to be a model.

I used to be pregnant.

That is my past, part of it at least. The dark part. The dead part. The part I try hard to forget.

The part that comes back to haunt me.

I was a model, and I was married, and I was pregnant. I have hurt people, and people have hurt me. In the process, getting back to myself, many, many people were hurt. Including people I once loved. My ex-husband, my friends, my agent. This makes me sad, and it makes me doubt myself.

But now I know myself well enough to doubt me, and that is a good thing.

I know what I like, what I love, what makes me happy. I know now that it is okay to be an introvert. I spent my entire life in a masquerade, pretending that all I ever wanted to do was talk on the phone or go to a party. I thought that only giggly, gossipy, extroverts were loved and admired.

I was wrong. And I have come to accept myself, the me that loves alone and quiet and writing in cafes, sidewalks, steps. The me that is content and happy with a pen in my hand and a sunset reflected in my eyes. What makes me happy. That. And that is fine, and that is alright. No one can or should criticize that, and I cannot criticize them for choosing a different way of life. I love extroverts. My best friend is one, always flying off to some party or the other, calling me on her cell phone to tell me about one-night stands at the Plaza, and flying to Greece on a whim with one of her many boyfriends. This I could not take. I need mself more than I need anything. I need Emmett too, more than anything else in the world. My self and Emmett and quiet. I go to nightclubs, I go to parties. But I also go to book reading, hikes with friends, late nights with friends in a Turkish bar, laughing until you can't breathe. I accept both sides of myself. Who I was, who I am.

Mostly, though, I don't think of it like that. I think of myself as a multi-faceted diamond. For the some years of my life, one facet caught the sun. It glittered and shone and got sharper and quicker. And then it cracked, and the diamone fell on the floor. And through the cracking and the falling, a new facet was uncovered. the facet that shines, that glitters, that lets itself be quiet and comfortable, and lets itself be loved. This is the facet that I like best.

But it has taken curves, chips from the other facet. It has learned and grown from the other facet too. And now I am complete, now I am whole, both sides of myself explored. Who I am. Me is me. And people will have to accept that, because this is what makes me happy.

I agree that life is not about the pursuit of happiness, it is about loving. But I love best when I am happy, and when it is easy to make me happy, when all I need is 10 minutes alone each day and each night, then what is holding me back?

Quiet. I accept it , I embrace it, I am it. Loud is good too, sparkly and multicolored and soft and jade, all good.

Who I am.

My Day ...In A Thousand Words or less

2006-10-17T16:24:00.000-07:00

Today it was freakin', freakin', freakin' cold outside. So I did what any sane person would do. I bundled up, in my coziest jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a pufta vest (for those of you who are not me, "pufta" means down feathers. Or cozy and soft. Or puffy. One of those.)

Then I remembered I was actually going to work (where we can't wear jeans), so I had to turn around and walk the 2 blocks back to my brownstone, where I went into domestic goddess mode and washed a dish, fed the cat, changed the litter, made the bed, and picked up my shoes. And then I changed into wide-legged tweed trousers, pumps, a frilly button-down, and my grey tweed suit jacket. And then I could go all the way to school, where I realized I forgot my laptop.

Anyway. During lunch, I raced home to get it, and totally forgot about tutoring this kid, which got me in major trouble with .... the Boss.

When I walked home at 3, I stopped to get dinner, and then felt so sorry for a group of homeless I gave it all to them.

When I got home, I had 500,000 messages, one of them from my ex-husband, which is never good. I haven't listened to it yet.

One was from my mom, asking me what my wedding colors would be because she was reserving Mem. Church, and she needed the number of our florist, and when was I buying my wedding dress? Because she could fly in and.... buy something that made me look like a merengue... I thought, then felt so bad for thinking that I called her and stayed on the phone for an hour.

And now I'm sitting in the tank top I wore last night, sweats and a headband, grading papers, typing this, trying to ignore the beeping message light. In an hour or two, it will be Top Ramen (creamy chicken flavored!) Haagen Daz, and all 4 tivoed episodes of Grey's Anatomy.

This is my life.

The Things We Do for Beauty...

2006-10-15T14:18:00.000-07:00

Last night, Emmett and I went out to dinner. Fall was in the air, spectacular awnings of orange leaves, the trees living flames. The old brownstones leaned over us, historic and ancient and classy in the way high-rises can never attempt. Just...intellectual.

At the restaurant, the lights were low and the music was soft. The food isn't very good-runny curry and soggy pan- but it is quiet, and they have good wine. We go there once a month, maybe more- and tonight wasn't every different.

But when I went to the bathroom, I leaned over the sink to perfect my lipstick. A girl clattered out of the stall behind me. Clattered, her shoes clicking, her ankles bending, her faux gold jewelry swinging against the pancake makeup on her cheeks. Her skinny jeans were super tight, and cut into her stomach. Bulges. Ouch. She looked freezing cold, chilled to the very bone, in nothing but a silky camisole that whispered over her goosebumps. Every feather light bone in her shoulders was painfully obvious.

And then I thought. Of myself, of how I used to be, of society. Of the things we do for beauty. We pluck, we wax, we shave and watch the blood from where the razor slipped swirl down the drain. We exfoliate and scrub and spray, we crimp and curl and burn and tint. We spend a whole day smelling like dye and hospital rooms so our legs will be smooth for date night.

And it isn't bad. It isn't good. It's a lifestyle, the way I used to live.

For what? I was dressed in brown Abercrombie corduroys, a gray henley sweater, a black wool peacoat, and a scarf. I wore comfy UGGs. I hadn't shaved my legs in 3 days, and my only makeup was mascara, foundation, and lipstick. My hair was just...there. Around my shoulders, being brown, the roots growing out. Later that night, Emmett would feel my stubby legs. He would kiss my hair, and not care about the 5 week roots. He would love me anyway. Society might not, but Emmett would. And who really cares what society thinks? You can't please everybody.

"Stop!" I wanted to shout to the old me, to the women beside me. "Put down the razor!" I wanted to take their hands, pull them outside to eat crappy Indian food, to look at the brownstones, to feel the wind redden their cheeks and tease their scarfs. I wanted to take them to my favorite bakery, lick the icing of moon cookies, eat a Napoleon and write, watching the people go by, alone and not conscious of it. I want to put pens in their hands, food in their stomachs, joy in their hearts. I wanted all this, for them and for me and for everybody. "Stop!" I wanted to say. "Come out with me! Let me show you the crythansemums!"

But I didn't. I put my lipstick in my purse, and I looked sideways. "Hey," I said, giving a half smile. She looked up, tweezers poised, plucking away what little was left of her eyebrows. "Have a nice night."

Emmett and I walked back, hand in hand, together against any wind and any strife. We laughed loud, we tripped over our clunky boots, and we tilted our heads back to howl at the moon.

Hello...Goodbye

2006-10-09T20:26:00.000-07:00

My first post..wow, finally. Well, this will be a quick post since my laptop is running out of juice and I don't know where the power cord is, but I'm so thrilled to finally be blogging and have a place to write all the thoughts, ideas and feelings that run around in my melodramatic mind.

See you later!