click on this link and watch real close at :44. how’s that for a monday morning dance party?! NPH was totes cool and hilarious, BTW. check out this interview he did with the local boston TV folks. cuz kate, her fiance and their friends also made it out that night. here’s a pic of kate with NPH.
it was a fun weekend, albeit a tad exhausting. amid all the crap that’s going on en la vida col, work is a beam of sunshine. today i got to leave the office early, head out to the open and sit in the suite for a sick view of the Federer match. not so bad. in other positive news, ellen is finally back from vacation and my DVR is getting ready to get filled again with fresh new goodies. also the new coen brothers film is out friday — pumped for that too.
last night i rode my bike to my trainer’s place. he asked how the light works and i said it’s busted and i use an earring to turn it on. he said i was the macgyver of chicks … i totes loved that.
so today i’m 33 — the age JC was when he died. the attention and presents have started pouring in and being the leo that i am i love it. how lucky i am to have my friends, my health, my life. wanted to do a whole long interesting philosophical post but am not in the mood. better yet, here’s a song that best expresses where i am right now …
my cousin kate has a story from her childhood that exemplifies the practical/repressed mindset of our parents when we were little. it was summer vacation and she had slept over at the neighbor’s house, hung at the pool with them, had pizza and cake and was invited to sleep over a second night in a row. kate was thrilled by the prospect of extending the party another day, but her mom said no. kate did what any 8 year old would do − she asked why not. her mom’s reply: “it’s just too much fun.”
i might have received similar castigation for the way i conducted this weekend. here are some things i did:
- got blonded at blow and tried to convince my pal david that paul mccartney/wings wasn’t all terrible. i even burned him a cd … he was nonplussed and tried to rope me into an either/or situation comparing post beatles paul to post beatles john. i told him to shut it — that if paul had died too we’d not been having this convo, and hell why does everything have to be compared to the prior body of work? he said john was on track to being perennially cool and i said okay fine but why do we have to put someone (paul) down?
- mailed several letters with shiny heart stickers on them.
- watched Julian Schnabel’s the diving bell and the butterfly. love love loved it and cried tons. need to read the book.
- had dinner with a delightful group on sat. night. learned about the u-nanna-versity of vajayjay, youparklikeanasshole.com and an amazing show on fx called damages.
- went down the shore with my girls. we laughed our asses off. sat amongst jersey’s finest tattoos, piercings, guido talk. i swam in the ocean and the water was peeeeeeeeeerfect. when my hair dried i looked like spicoli and ali quoted him and i twittered it.
- i left my wallet in new jersey (safe in a phyll’s car but still – tres inconvenient).
- i went for a bike ride (sans helmet − rebel yell!) and saw a rainbow.
- i bought one can of cat food ($.75) with some loose change so aretha won’t starve and talked jill into meeting me for drinks (that she’d buy) at the piggy.
the douchebag of the day award goes to the guy who wore the tshirt that said: “my labradoodle loves me no matter what my golf score is.” the runner up was a passive aggressive biker who snottily yelled out to a band of tourists as he rode by, “thanks for blocking the path!”
if a life this fun is wrong, i don’t want to be right.
In my house growing up, every family party ever held … after dinner, and many drinks, out came the Irish music. When I was 8 my parents even forced me to take Irish step dancing lessons in the back of a bar (Davey’s Locker in Montvale, NJ to be precise. ) … And no, I did not love that. But I did love the music, and still do (albeit in small doses). It makes me feel at home, among family.
Of course, it also accentuates a sense of gloominess in the Irish-American sensibility. A pal once referenced someone she knew who read “the Irish sports pages” every day without fail. She was talking about the obits. Man was that familiar. Between my Grandma, Nana, Mom, Aunts and Great Aunts’ worrying, I was surrounded by adults who were obsessed with mortality. And the craziest part is, all that worrying was done silently. There was always a dark cloud of fear hovering over us, but no one acknowledged it. No one talked about death, dying or anything “unpleasant.”
I’ve done a decent job shedding that mindset but the weight of generations still bears down on me every once in a while. But then I can’t forget − there are positive aspects of the Irish-American sensibility. Wit. Sarcasm. The ability to laugh ourselves through seriously ugly shit. And to fight like hell when we need to.
The bike is a dream, I must say. I bought a lock for it today so I can make the occasional stop and leave it outside at pal’s places, stores, etc. Am totes p-noid that someone’s gonna steal it since it’s so cool looking. Alas, que sera sera. That’s an approach I am taking to life overall. It’s a period of pretty epic stress. My Dad is very ill. Compounding the matter is a general denial of reality, or at least the refusal to articulate it … the ongoing propensity to “protect” my brothers, family and friends by pretending it’s all under control. Nothing’s under control. Such is life.
I struggle with how much to disclose, and to whom. You hear about “very private people.” I am not one of those, clearly − my biz is all over the internets. I don’t want pity, I don’t want morbid attention (positive attention? Bring it). But I hate walking around acting like everything’s dandy. It’s hard to give a shit about anything else. The day-to-day stuff that occupies my time is unimportant, but at the same time I’m glad for the distraction. Am fortunate to have an amazing network of people supporting me − family, friends, colleagues. Plus I’m being good to myself −eating well, exercising lots, not working too much. I know this too shall pass but in the meantime, as my pals have helped me acknowledge, I am in it. I’m in it and it blows.
After I bought the lock I drove down to the new Whole Foods in Tribeca (so close — dream!). Got ingredients for a Warm Garbanzo and Quinoa Salad. Cost me 8 bucks. Chucked it all in my backpack and cruised home. Am totes impressed with how well the meal came out. Am also starting to feel myself metamorphosize into something new. In spite of the difficulties, I feel I am on a good path. Lately that good path involves a bike path.
Sorry to keep ya’ll dangling on the outcome of the closed-door dating event I hyped last week. As it turns out, I had a fun experience. No love connections, no Col and soul mate sitting on a couch, holding hands and talking with Barbara Wawa in my future … but still fun.
3PM: I left work early to get a blow out and makeup done at one of my favorite places in the world − Blow Styling Salon. I am totes pals with the head stylist, David, and I adore the staff and the general environment. When I walked in I was scraggly, stressed out, anxious. Naturally my skin had broken out just in time for my big TV moment (Murphy’s Law). Well, they calmed me down and took care of everything. By the time I walked out I looked absolutely fabulous and was cool, calm and collected.
5PM: With one exception − I still didn’t know what I was wearing. I’ve been in wardrobe limbo of late. Am not fitting the clothes I wore the past two summers when I was marathon training and just generally in better shape. The invitation said to dress as you would on a first date. The last first date I had (a few weeks ago) I wore board shorts, a tank top & flip flops. Not an option. I swung by Darling for a last minute shock and awe shopping expedition and picked up a really cute purplish-pink dress, which I already had the perfect shoes and jewelry to complement. Score!
6:30 PM: As I approached the event location in Chelsea I saw all the other participants congregating outside. They held us out there like cattle for a bit while they continued to get set up inside. There were cameras everywhere − inside and outside. A quick scan of the dudes had me bummed. I saw lots of meek-seeming guys, dudes with long ponytails, and several fashion emergencies to boot. Can’t judge a book by its cover, indeed, but posture alone is quite telling. I generally think online dating attracts a type of man that I am not suited to date, and since this event drew participants from a pool of online dater profiles, I was not very hopeful. Met some cool gals while waiting in the line and we walked in together.
7:00 PM: They fed us copious amounts of alcohol and not very much food. Everyone received a little booklet with icebreaker exercises and 5 matches to guys who’d be there that night. I recognized one of the dudes on my cards as a gent I had actually communicated over email with many months back. We were supposed to get coffee or something like that and he just disappeared into the ether. I spotted him early on and he was cute from far away.
8:00 PM: Dr. Helen Fisher gave a talk. She was lovely. So smart talking about neuroscience …. a subject I, too, am interested in … and she looked terrific. By then I had had several drinks and was just roaming around talking with anyone and everyone. I approached the prior-communication dude and he had no recollection of our earlier exchange. He also acted like he didn’t know I was one of the 5 matches listed in his book. My esteem for him immediately plummeted. Too cool is not attractive. Neither is excessive gel and cologne, both of which he was rocking. I kept talking with him until some random guy walked up and tried one of the icebreaker things on me, giving me a great out.
8:30 PM: I continued to mingle, chatting with totally random dudes and dudettes. I am actually quite comfortable in that sort of setting, especially after 3 red wines. I ran into a very interesting guy … an Eco Pirate. He was one of the long hair ponytail guys. He goes on anti-poaching expeditions, is vegan, does that whole critical mass biking thing. Very interesting to talk with. Our bond was science, zen shit and general bemusement at the whole event. The aloof gel man of course came trolling back and tried to get back in the mix. He wanted to make fun of the Eco Pirate but was unsuccessful and I totes blew him off. I actually sort of enjoyed that − he was such a jerk.
9:00 PM: I approached Dr. Fisher, told her how cool she, how fascinating her work is … that I’d watched her TED talks on YouTube. I recommended that she read Biology of Transcendence by Joseph Chilton Pearce, and told her that she looked amazing in her little white dress. She was gracious and admitted that she had worked her ass off to fit into that dress and felt great wearing it.
9:30 PM: Tipsy and starving, I decided to make my exit and invited the Eco Pirate to get Mexican food with me nearby. On my way out the party organizers asked us to turn in our cards saying who we’d like to see again. I said no one, sorry. The lady said, “Not one?” The answer was no. There were many nice people but no one I had any chemistry with and that’s the whole point. Eco Pirate was a nice dude with interesting stories and adventures, but not a love connection. We had a nice dinner and I was home by 10:30.
11:00 PM: I texted David and several pals to tell them I had fun and looked hot but didn’t meet any dudes. David’s reply was: “You’ll find him. I’ll find him. We r all in the same boat. Keep your head up!”
socrates says “know thyself.” buddha says “love thyself”
buddha is far more true.
unless you love yourself you will never love yourself.
knowing comes only later on.
love prepares the ground. love is the possibility of knowing oneself; love is the right way to know oneself.