how did i not know about this?

so my boss - who i know is seeming more like a therapist these days, but really we just laugh about all the ridiculous things going on with me - asked me today how old i am, and said that i'm probably going through my Saturn Return.

my whosawhat?

of course i was on Google in a flash, and it's amazing that i never heard about this before. it might've given me a bit more peace of mind the last few years. apparently the Saturn Return has to do with how long it takes Saturn to orbit the sun, and what kind of an impact that has on people of a particular age. approximately every twenty-nine years, the Saturn orbit is complete, and throws things a little out of whack. it can be a time of change, transition, big questions, accomplishments, etc.

courtesy of Wikipedia:

"Saturn is symbolically/astrologically associated with time, challenge, fear, doubt, confusion, difficulty, seriousness, heaviness, and hard lessons, among other more positive things such as structure, significance, accomplishment, reflection, power, prestige, maturity, and order – this is why astrologers believe that the thirtieth birthday is such a major rite of passage and is considered by many astrologers to mark the "true beginning" of adulthood, self-evaluation, independence, responsibility, ambition, and full maturation."

well i'll be damned. it's the freaking planets messing with me! but it does give me hope that all these challenges are really leading me to a calmer, more stable period in my life. apparently i won't have to worry about any of this crap again until i'm fifty-eight. and by then i will have already conquered the world, so any worries on my mind at that point will probably be more along the lines of: how will i coordinate my book tour with my exploration of Mars and all my obligations since taking over for Oprah after her retirement?

i think i'll be able to figure it out.

mb

hmm...

so i had a rough afternoon yesterday. by six o'clock i was sitting at my desk sort of staring into space. my brain hurt. i decided, since it wasn't so cold outside, to talk a walk to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. it's hard to get into the Christmas spirit when 1) it's still November and 2) the holiday displays have been up since before Halloween. nevertheless, i wanted to see the tree.

i purposely walked down Fifth Avenue so i could come upon it from that great vantage point, across from Saks, looking up the Plaza there with all the lighted angels everywhere and all the foreign tourists madly snapping photos and yelling at each other in a variety of languages. ahh, Christmas. my anticipation grew the closer i got. finally i arrived, turned the corner and...oh.

usually - i'm not even kidding - the tree takes my breath away a little. it's just so damn big and sparkly and, like Tony Bennett says, there's just something special about New York at Christmastime.

but.

this year, the tree is blue. not the actual tree, of course, but the lights seem to have more blue bulbs than red or green or white or whatever other colors they use and it makes for a predominantly blue tree. i know they made a big deal about how the tree is green this year - not the actual tree, although of course the tree is actually green - but the lights and electricity and all that jazz are a little more environmentally-sound this season. so i have no idea if blue lights are just more green than red and green lights (huh?) or if this is becoming more of a "holiday" tree than a "Christmas" tree. that thought really went through my mind and, i don't know, nothing against anyone or anything, but i hope that's not the case.

all i know is that i was startled and disappointed. but i guess that's sort of the theme of my life lately.

(just kidding - couldn't resist.)

mb

waiting for my real life to begin

am i jinxing myself here?

i found out this morning that i can't move into my apartment this weekend. my real estate agent actually e-mailed me this morning and said i could move "definitely before January."

huh. that would be fine if i didn't have to clear out of the sublet two days from now.

to distract myself from the lump bobbing around in my throat, i went back to that astrology site to see if any of this was predicted and i had just missed it. because clearly i'm not prepared. but no - my November "forecast" says 2007 has been an amazingly amazing year for me, and this is my breather month before an even more amazingly amazing December.

you know, i have to say, i'm just the teeniest bit skeptical.

ostensibly - on paper - 2007 has not been an amazing year for me. i mean, you look at the facts and you say, "hmm. not a banner year, really." but i'm thinking - hoping? - that it's all going on for a reason. that either all these obstacles and challenges are preparing me for more crap in 2008, or that 2008 is going to be the best freaking year of my life.

i'm rooting for the latter.

all i can say is that i'm glad i went to St. Rita last night. a friend of mine told me about St. Rita a couple summers ago. apparently she's the patron saint of the hopeless and the impossible. i went through all my saints training in grade school (i was more of a St. Elizabeth girl back then) and i haven't been a practicing catholic since, well, grade school. but i am not without faith, not by any means, and so i decided to go visit Rita a few months ago because there didn't seem to be much to lose at that point. there's a St. Rita statue in the back of a church near my old office. i admit i felt a little awkward the first time, kneeling there in the echo-y quiet of the massive church, and more than a little hypocritical (is a person allowed to consult horoscopes and saints with the same seriousness?). but i also felt very calm when i left. peaceful, even.

i've gone back a handful of times since then, and hey - i don't do yoga, i don't meditate, but i pray to St. Rita and it helps. i went last night because i was feeling too anxious and too off-track for my liking. again, i felt calmer afterward and despite the curveballs that keep coming my way, i've kept a level head today.

so i owe some thanks to St. Rita, i guess. and also to Sleepy's, for agreeing to deliver my mattress at a later date... "definitely before January."

mb

play money

i have to share this, because it's just so... funny, typical, ridiculous.

at my last company, i was granted stock options, several hundred in fact. at the time it seemed like a good thing, though i'll be the first to admit i haven't the faintest idea how the whole system works. in Miss Marino's sixth grade math class, we each "bought" stock in a company and followed it for a whole semester and kept track of how much "money" we had at the end. if i understood it then, i forgot it all by seventh grade and never relearned it. my bad.

last night i went through a bunch of paperwork that had been piling up, and found information on my stock options. i needed to do something with them before the middle of December, otherwise i'd lose them, as i'm no longer with the company. i called the investment firm handling said stocks this morning to exercise my options. it was exciting to say it - "i'd like to exercise my options" - mostly because the prospect of some extra cash right about now was making me breathe a little easier.

except.

the options were granted to me at one price, but the stock is currently trading at a price a few dollars lower. apparently, in situations such as this, unless the price goes back up, you can't do squat with the options. you lose them. they're worthless. (just to give you an idea, i spend more on a Grande Skim Chai Latte at Starbucks than it currently costs to buy one share in my old company.) i told the investment rep on the other end of the phone, "well, this about sums up my entire experience with the company." she laughed and offered her condolences.

i don't know. i'm clearly no expert in this field, but i think the whole set-up sort of stinks. those options were included in various raises and promotions i received. they made it seem like a good thing - like it made up for the paltry salary increases, actually. and now - poof. they're useless. who the hell dreamed that one up?

mb

when it rains, it pours

that's what my boss said to me today, about my life - when it rains it pours.

i got approved today for insurance coverage by the freelancers union, but i won't be covered until January (making December a month i absolutely cannot play chicken with taxis on 57th Street) and i'll have to pay for two months up front, before i'm even covered. December is already going to be a super-tight month with all the expenses that come with a new apartment, the fact that i have two weeks of involuntary vacation, and, you know, there's Christmas in the mix.

so i don't have a lot of money to spend right now (and to be honest i'm getting more nervous by the hour about what i've gotten myself into here) but i went to Borders this afternoon anyway and bought the softest stuffed animal puppy ever and a scratch-and-sniff Christmas book about a dog named Biscuit for the toy box in my office lobby. they're collecting donations for disadvantaged kids, and maybe i'll be eating ramen noodles until February, but i'm better off than those kids, i'm sure. they deserve a little Christmas cheer.

although, maybe i deserve this stuffed puppy. his name is Scoundrel and i've grown oddly attached in the two hours since i bought him. hmm. clearly the mental breakdown has begun.

ah yes, when it rains, it pours...

mb

excess

last night i met Sarah at McManus, to catch up and hear about her new job. i love McManus, and not just because i met John Krasinski there (i promise i'll stop mentioning it soon - it's only been a year, people). it's low-key, it looks and feels like a hole in the wall (which can be a welcome change from most places in this city), i was drinking pints of Bass for four dollars, and the bartenders are normal and nice. it's got a lot going for it.

but last night i also realized that it's sort of a sad place. or maybe just a place filled with sad people. like the lady who's in there all the time, who sits at the end of the bar and drinks cheap wine and watches Jeopardy. as the night goes on, she starts to have animated conversations with an imaginary friend. she breaks my heart. i don't know why. no, i do know why. she obviously has some issues with alcohol, and issues with alcohol have touched my life in various ways throughout the years. i try to keep my chin up about it, but the truth is the pain is always right there under the surface, easily provoked even by a woman whose name i don't know, whose story i don't know, but whose troubles seem to be on display for the whole world - or at least the whole bar - to see.

while i was waiting for Sarah, a man named Artie or Arnie (couldn't quite tell) started talking to me. he was probably in his late 40s, a blue collar guy, and noticed me sitting there reading my book. he started waxing poetic about Dean Koontz and how his books made him laugh out loud and cry and how the other guys at work made fun of him for going to Barnes & Noble every day (i found that hard to believe - even i don't go to Barnes & Noble every day - but who knows). he was nice enough, but he was also drunk enough. then there was another older lady on the other side of me, wearing a big, furry, Russian-style hat because she claimed to have gotten a bad haircut. as she sucked down a mixed drink through a bendy straw, she playfully pestered the bartender about when he was getting married. she was at least 30 years older than he was, but i got the feeling she would have happily married him if he'd been available.

after Sarah arrived, we lucked out and got a table and were content in our own little world (though also idly observing various characters in the bar - a dude who hopped in on one foot because the other had been broken or mangled or some such thing; two hippie, long-haired guys we weren't sure were men at first, etc.). as i've documented at length on this blog, Sarah and i always seem to have some sort of interesting interaction when we're at McManus. last time it was two douche bags (pardon my French) who sent over drinks and then made icky eyes at us while they played Golden Tee at the other end of the bar. (who does that?) and then of course there was that ickier, white-haired British gentleman who loved the way Sarah's bottom waddled. you get the idea.

last night i wasn't even anticipating a similar encounter, and that was my first mistake. because before i could say, "close my tab!" a fella named Brad plopped himself down uncomfortably close, claiming to have a girlfriend he was happy with, and at that moment he was just looking for some friendly conversation with two good-looking women.

right.

like deer caught in headlights, Sarah and i sat there speechless while he opened with a joke. a really bad, unfunny, dramatically-delivered joke. when we didn't laugh, he tried another. worse. this was around the time i realized just how intoxicated he was. (when i said his delivery was...interesting, he said that he believed people should tell jokes dramatically, but live the rest of their lives in the romantic comedy section - if you figure that one out, let me know.) before his intrusion, Sarah had been telling me about an incident she had a couple weeks ago in Chelsea, when a few guys started harassing her on the street. they were drunk and when she tried to ignore their comments, they only grew louder, and got in her face. it's one of those things you think A) will never happen or 2) if it does happen, you'll know exactly how to handle it. but really, when it does, the only thing you feel is terror. she kept her wits about her, though, and did the smart thing and thankfully nothing terrible happened. but it rattled her, understandably.

so both of us were thinking about that when this guy wouldn't leave us alone last night. he was guzzling Heineken and Sarah and i kept making eyes at each other - 'why us? why ALWAYS us?' - and finally his 'girlfriend' called (we're still not sure if she existed) and he started arguing with her on the phone, about how he was sitting with two girls (he asked for our names then, so he could pass that important info on to his girlfriend) but that we were all just friends. when he started getting loud, that was our cue. we got the hell out and hightailed it to the subway together. usually we laugh about whatever shenanigans go on in that bar, but last night we were only unnerved.

i'd had two pints of Bass, which normally wouldn't affect me but i hadn't eaten much and i found myself thinking how it's true - alcohol can seem to make things better. something i'd been feeling anxious about earlier in the day didn't seem so bad as i rode the train home last night. the slight buzz i had going was a nice, fluffy barrier between my brain and reality. then i got a little scared. i thought about the Jeopardy lady, and the lady with the hat, the blue collar Barnes & Noble fan, the men who harassed Sarah, and strange, erratic Brad. all clearly people with heavy hearts, all looking for some relief in the bottom of a glass. i wondered, for an instant, if i was like them, or would be someday.

i'm pretty sure i won't, and these are all normal thoughts, i'm sure, for someone like me. in the grand scheme of things, last night was just another night at the bar. but it was the first night in a while i felt a little shaky, a little vulnerable. it was strange. before we said goodnight, Sarah and i decided that we need a break from McManus. next time, we'll try somewhere else. just to be safe.

mb

i'm ashamed to admit...

... i've never been out of the country. i don't. even have. a passport.

not only is this shocking and appalling (especially considering i'm a Sagittarius AND a writer) it's also a little pathetic. i know there are plenty of people who've never been out of the country, but let's put it this way: many of my younger cousins, kids i used to babysit for and younger siblings of my friends have traveled extensively. their passports are stamped all over the freaking place. on Thanksgiving, i found out that my cousin Alayne will be celebrating her 25th birthday at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro. it's been a dream of hers for the last 14 years, and so she's doing it - she's arranged to reach the summit the day she turns 25. (i sat there for a moment and thought about my 25th birthday. i spent it drinking too much in a bar on the upper west side. brilliant.)

the truth is, studying abroad was not a big thing at my college, at least in my department. i was impressed enough with myself for spending a summer working in Disney World (alas, EPCOT's World Showcase is the extent of my European experience). i really had no idea what i was missing out on until all the aforementioned whippersnappers started jetting and sailing off to places i wasn't even sure i could locate correctly on a map.

i wanted to get my passport this summer - i thought at least that was a step in the right direction - but without a permanent address it didn't seem like a good idea. but, aha! now i have a new, permanent address! and guess what i did during my lunch break today? i filled out and printed the proper passport form, and sometime before my birthday next Sunday i am planning to get myself to a post office and make it official. in lieu of a party, i'll apply for my passport, which will make my goal for 2008 - to get the hell out of dodge finally - a little more viable.

i'm thinking a few days in London, followed by as much time as i can afford in Ireland. it seems an appropriate place to begin. after that, who knows? my places-to-see list is long enough to keep me busy 'til i start taking those senior citizen tour group trips.

so maybe i didn't travel halfway around the globe by the time i was 22, maybe i didn't spend my 25th birthday gazing across Africa from a (literally) breathtaking vantage point. but, dammit, it's never too late to start.

mb

it has to be rainy...

i took the train in from PA this morning, since i was busy yesterday sorting through all my stuff, getting ready for my big move soon (cue the angel choir) and it struck me a few times that it was going to be extra painful switching into work mode. something about the thanksgiving holiday makes a brain sluggish. add to that getting up at the crack of dawn on a monday in the pitch black and it's raining, and there's little hope of getting it together before mid-week.

anyway, it was a good Thanksgiving. i love my Brady relatives. they're all nuts, and naturally, i relate. the champagne was flowing and the food was amazing. Darren and Sara made an incredibly decadent sweet potato dish with five pounds of sweet potatoes. i think there will still be leftovers next Thanksgiving. later in the evening we played a few hilarious rounds of Left, Right, Center, during which my Aunt Joanne referred to several of us as "little creep" and "little witch" and there was also a whole schtick with her licking the money, but you had to be there to appreciate that one. my favorite moment was as we were leaving. i'd been battling a stubborn cold (still am, sort of) and popped a Halls in my mouth as we were saying goodbye. my aunt hugged me and then gasped and said, "you smell great! what are you wearing?" i told her, "mentho-lyptus." she laughed and laughed and i said, "at least we know what works for you now" and i told my Uncle Tim to get some vapor rub on his wife stat. (oh, and then out in the driveway as i said goodbye to Darren i clocked him in the face with a water bottle. but he'd clocked Sara in the face with his foot a little earlier, so it was just payback by proxy.) anyway, it was one of those days when you can say without irony: a good time was had by all.

the rest of the weekend was spent fretting over when exactly i can move, what exactly i need, what exactly i can afford. i was much calmer yesterday and therefore more productive. i think i made about eight trips to Target over three days. (got a microwave for thirty bucks, baby - sometimes it pays to brave Black Friday.) and yesterday i got my first new mattress as an adult. seriously, every other place i've slept has been a hand-me-down situation or something similar, and so it was sort of a big day. (it's also sort of handy that my birthday is so close to my moving date. makes mom and dad all the more willing to say, "need a bed? happy birthday!") i got the garage squared away (where all my stuff has been patiently sitting since july) and i'm rarin' to move.

but for now it's back to work. my brain is protesting. wish me luck.

mb

shoveling the turkey and stuffing the snow

i don't think i've ever mentioned before where the name of my blog came from. it's part of a line in Home for the Holidays, which i think i have mentioned is one of my favorite movies. the first time i saw it i was a freshman in college, a newbie entertainment reporter for the campus paper, and most of my assignments were movie reviews. so when Home for the Holidays came out, i took the Blue Beetle (Hofstra alums reading this are shuddering right now) to the Roosevelt Field mall movie theater and was somehow completely taken by this little quirky movie.

if you haven't seen it, it's the story of one family's Thanksgiving. they're a normal family - i.e. dysfunctional and with more than a few nutbags among them - and there's really nothing extraordinary that happens in the movie. there's no high drama or traumatic incident. the main character, Claudia (played by Holly Hunter, who i've always admired because she went to Carnegie Mellon for drama and when they told her to lose her accent she told them to do something that rhymes with duck off) goes home for Thanksgiving. that's basically it. her parents are a little crazy, her Aunt Glady is completely crazy, her brother and sister are night and day different and constantly at each other's throats, and in the middle of it all is Dylan McDermott (playing her brother's friend), dreamy and charming and smitten with her.

come on - that's a great Thanksgiving.

the whole movie reminds me of the kind of short story i love to read (or, ideally, write) because the characters are so messed up, but so appealing. the movie is about them, where they are in their lives this particular Thanksgiving, and how impossible it can be to relate to people - especially your own family - when you're going through your own crap. at one point, after some emotional outbursts at the dinner table, someone asks Claudia how her life is. and she - having just been fired and worrying about her teenage daughter who's having Thanksgiving with her boyfriend and probably losing her virginity - sighs, ironically, "my life...my little life." she's the sanest one on Thanksgiving, but also (it turns out) completely lost. (no worries, McDermott saves her in the end.)

i mean, don't get me wrong - they aren't studying Home for the Holidays in film school. it's just always struck a chord with me. it's part hilarious, part heartbreaking, which is exactly what families are to most people. so many of the scenes are classic - Aunt Glady farting in the car, Claudia running into people from high school while wearing her mother's ugly coat, the guys getting hosed down in the front yard during a fight, Claudia sitting with her dad in the basement, listening to him talk about how brave she was as a kid, watching airplanes taking off right on the tarmac... great stuff. you probably have to see it to appreciate it. or maybe you just have to be an oddball like me.

anyway, that's where the name of this blog came from, and maybe it's part of the reason i love Thanksgiving so much. each year i'm waiting for the turkey to fly across the table and land in someone's lap and hilarity to ensue. and, you know, for Dylan McDermott to show up.

Happy Thanksgiving...

mb

how you know you're old

you decide to do the annual night-before-Thanksgiving thing with your friends, even though you're 30 and it's really something for kids home from college. you decide, for the hell of it, to try a fun pub-type place, but when you pull into the parking lot, two things strike you:

1) all the kids in the parking lot and streaming into the pub are, you know, kids
2) there are no available parking spaces at all, which means the line for the bathroom is going to be loooooong and you're just not sure you're up for that

so the pub-type place is out. plan B involves going to Houlihan's and the fact that you have to have a plan B at all is telltale enough - you are clearly old. but still, you go to Houlihan's because at least you're out catching up with your friends and this is the suburbs after all. Houlihan's could be a happening spot.

or...not.

but, again, you're with your friends, there's a full bar, what's not to like? you drink, you eat a little, you chat long enough that you start to lose your voice. just when you're thinking about ordering another round and, just maybe, dessert, the waitress comes by and says, "last call." you check the time. it's barely 10 o'clock.

even for the suburbs, this is early. you ask the waitress and she tells you they close even earlier than other places in the suburbs because of a housing development behind the restaurant. folks complain about the noise after a certain hour. of course.

you nurse your last drink as long as possible. finally, when the cleaning crews are starting to do their thing, you leave Houlihan's, and, when the realization hits that you really are old, you're not in the same age bracket anymore as the kids who are at that cool pub where you couldn't even find a parking spot, you decide to call it a night. call a spade a spade.

you are over the hill, as far as the night before Thanksgiving is concerned. you had your fun for all those years: you crammed yourself into sweaty clubs and smelly bars and got your drink on 'til the wee hours of Turkey Day morning.

now you're relegated to Houlihan's. but it's OK, really, because you're not just older now, you're wiser too, and you know it's just a matter of time before those cool kids at the pub will find themselves at Houlihan's wondering, bemusedly, where the frig their 20s went.

mb

thankful

today was sort of a big day: i signed a lease for my very own apartment.

i walked to the realty office by myself this morning, and i was thinking about when my Gram signed the lease on her condo almost 20 years ago. she moved out of her house on Hershey Road (i'll have to write a whole entry about that house - it was pretty much my favorite place in the world) and she was finally, finally going to live on her own. i was there with my parents when she signed the lease and i remember her hand was shaking as she tried to write her name. i wondered, idly, if mine would do the same thing.

it didn't. i handed over a lot of my hard-earned money, signed a bunch of papers in triplicate, then the agent handed me a thick guidebook to Brooklyn as if i hadn't been living there for the last five years, and that was that. no shaky hand, no pangs of worry or regret. just...calm.

on my walk back, i thought about everything that's gone on in my life this year. it's probably been the most challenging of all my almost-31 years, but i feel truly blessed. and i guess that's a good thing to feel at Thanksgiving. more than anything, i'm thankful this year for all the things that went wrong. because, hard as it was at the time, they all led me to things that were right.

i know it sounds corny, but every Thanksgiving my parents and i make a list of the top five or 10 things we're thankful for. if you've never tried it, give it a whirl. it's always nice to take a little time to focus on the good things in your life. sometimes they're hard to find, but they're there, i promise.

mb

wtf?

this morning on the Today show they went into great detail about what a Thanksgiving meal does to a human body. calories were the main focus, and my question is: WHY? for how many years has this country been celebrating Thanksgiving? for how many years have families sat down to gigantic, belt-busting meals? yes, we are more overweight than ever, but it's not Thanksgiving's fault. there are 364 other days on the calendar when people overeat, but you don't see any of those days being singled out.

listen, Fat Police: let us have our day. Thanksgiving may no longer have anything to do with the Pilgrims and the Indians and the Mayflower, but it's still a day that i, for one, enjoy and look forward to and relish. (mmm, relish...) i don't need to be hearing about the 5000 calories i'll be consuming in one sitting. i don't need to hear about my BMI or my cholesterol level or any risk of sugar shock. please just leave me be with my mashed potatoes and my gravy and my big ol' piece of pumpkin pie and you go you enjoy your Tofurkey.

thank you.

mb

like i needed another reason to love it...

last night i went out with Dolch and Lauren to a cozy lovely wine bar in the East Village. the last time we tried to go there it was packed and we wound up elsewhere, but last night when i arrived it was blissfully uncrowded. i snagged the stool next to Dolch (already there enjoying some white wine she raved about) and saved the stool on the other side of me for Lauren.

the place was the perfect antidote to a crazy week. i needed a few hours to decompress and unwind. being with two of my favorite friends - not to mention a bottle of an incredible red (of course i can't remember the name now) plus samplings of chorizo, cheese, olives, fresh tuna with artichokes, and lots of other yummy things - did the trick.

for dessert, we ordered strawberries with mascarpone on brioche and - the best part - a sampler plate with small chunks of white, milk and dark chocolate. yes, it was heaven.

later on, when i got off the train in Brooklyn, i had my iPod on and Nat King Cole was singing "The Very Thought of You." i walked toward my (soon to be former) sublet feeling utterly happy. just calm and content and, OK, maybe a wee bit tipsy from the wine. i turned the corner on to my (soon to be former) street and felt downright euphoric. it was sort of strange and wonderful at the same time. the street is lined with trees, and many of them still have most of their leaves and the leaves are this gorgeous golden color, and something about them last night transfixed me a little bit. i know it sounds like i was doing drugs, but i promise i wasn't. i was - crazy as this sounds - happy to be so happy just looking at those trees.

OK, yeah. that totally sounds like the chorizo was laced with something. but here's the thing - the elevators in my office have those LCD screens in them that flash bits of news and weather and stocks. every once in a while you get a random fact or report. this morning, the following flashed on the screen: "chocolate has been shown to increase chemicals in the body that create a sense of euphoria."

it wasn't exactly a newsflash, but i immediately thought of the plate of chocolate Dolch and Lauren and i had shared last night, and realized that must be it. i used to keep a stash of dark chocolate handy at home, to nibble on after dinner with a glass of wine. i don't remember ever feeling quite as euphoric as i did last night, but perhaps i ought to start a new stash in my new place, just in case.

slightly off the subject... last night Dolch and i were waiting for the L train when a guy tapped her on the shoulder. turns out he was a college classmate of hers, and they started talking as we got on the train. she got off at the next stop, about 20 seconds later, and left me and the dude to chat. i asked him if he knew a high school friend of mine (who went to college with Dolch) and of course he did, and we were just starting to chat about our mutual friend when someone tapped my shoulder - my friend Margaret who, incidentally, is also good friends with Lauren (who'd opted for the bus). Margaret was with her husband Kimon, and i got to chat with them for about 20 seconds before it was my turn to get off the train. i made sure to introduce Dolch's friend to my friend Margaret who is also Lauren's friend who is also Dolch's friend and it was just the craziest thing. i guess it was a New York moment.

wonder who showed up on the train after i got off...

mb

to my dad

it's my dad's birthday today, and while i can't be there to toast him in person, i suppose i can do it in spirit (or at least via this blog). so, without further delay:

may you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent!

















mb

a vagabond no more

it seems, loyal readers, that i have myself an apartment. for fear of jinxing it (because you never can tell in this town) i won't say much more. but it looks like i will not be homeless after all. in fact, i will be the queen of my own palace.

take that, Nutjob Sublet Roommate! hmph.

mb

the one and only

lately i've found myself wishing i had a sibling. maybe even two. and it's honestly the first time in all my only-childness that i've ever felt this way.

i'm not entirely sure where it's coming from, although i babysat Scott and Henry over the weekend and watching them together was really sweet. there's about four years between them and Henry couldn't worship his older brother an ounce more. everything Scott says and does, Henry imitates. and Scotty, in return, teaches Henry things, gives him lots of love, and doesn't seem at all bothered having to share the spotlight. i'm sure the affection between them will ebb and flow as they get older, but i can also tell they'll always be there for each other. same with my cousins Darren and Alayne. they're thick as thieves, those two, despite the fact that Darren used Alayne as target practice when they were kids. no matter what, they'll always have each other. and it's sort of a weird thing to consider i'll never have that myself.

don't get me wrong: i've gained plenty from being an only. i'm independent, i can entertain myself when need be, i'm motivated and driven. (and, OK, maybe i got more Christmas presents than the average siblinged kid.) i also realize that lots of people have issues with their brothers and sisters, that sometimes siblings can actually add to a person's distress rather than alleviate it.

but it also must be nice to have someone who shares your DNA, so (presumably) they understand you better than a non-relative. but they're also not your parents, so you can get away with more (and complain about said parents without repercussion). just knowing you can pick up the phone at any time and basically say anything and they still have to love you - that seems cool to me.

i'm sure i sound pathetically naive about the subject. i AM naive. i haven't the faintest idea what it's like to have a sibling. my friends are the closest i've got and of course i'm incredibly grateful for that. there's also not a hell of a lot i can do about being an only now. it's been impossible convincing my parents to get a new dog - that doesn't bode well for a new kid. anyway, it's not a big deal. i just think it's funny and strange that i'm only feeling the void now. maybe all i need is for someone to give me a good noogie or wet willy or ruin my favorite sweater and i'll be over it.

mb

home sweet home

i was thinking yesterday about all the various places and conditions in which i've lived since college. i was wondering if it had been a normal sort of thing - at least for New York - or if i've just been, ahem, blessed. just for fun, here's the rundown:

- right after i got my job at Seventeen, i lived with my Gram for a month or two. we commuted together from her condo in North Jersey to the Wayne area. that alone was a test of nerves and patience. then i caught a bus from Wayne to the Port Authority (lovely place, you should really visit sometime). at night, i took a bus all the way back up north, to a stop about 10 minutes from Gram's condo. my total commuting time each day was close to four hours. oof. i can't complain about the living conditions. my Gram's home was very nice and obviously she kept me well fed and we had fun. but it wasn't exactly the image of post-college life i'd had in my head.

- in late fall of that year, i moved to Ridgefield Park, New Jersey. i stll don't know why. it was a cute apartment, my bedroom was huge, and it was close to the bus stop (which also took me to Port Authority). my roommate was a friend of a friend from college and she was...crafty. she loved construction paper. her computer password (i know because she told me) was "happy." she wanted to be best-best-best friends, but i hit a bit of a mental slump that year and spent a lot of time in my room, contemplating life. (sadly i'm not even exaggerating.) she took it personally and there was a lot of door slamming and snippy comments and it got old real fast. i moved out when our lease was up.

- my next place was (cue the Sinatra music) in Manhattan. ahh! my dream come true! an apartment in Manhattan with a doorman! just one problem... it was a studio. and i was sharing it with someone. and still paying over $1000 in rent. i have to say, though - aside from the logistical issues of two social, fun-loving, twentysomething girls sharing an apartment where our beds were about six feet apart (and the fact that i eventually had to start buying groceries with my credit card because i was so broke) it was sort of fun. i'm glad i had the experience of living in Manhattan. i'd probably never do it again (unless i could afford to buy a place in the West Village) but i definitely have fond memories of the Upper East Side.

- after two years in the city i defected to Brooklyn. this is where it gets tricky. i was, um, prone to extreme bouts of being overly emotional back then and i had sort of a meltdown trying to find a new place to live. i agreed to a room in an apartment on Seeley Street, which is technically in Windsor Terrace, but also sort of far flung. the room i agreed to rent was supposed to be painted and cleaned up before i moved in. it wasn't. i moved all my crap there, but it wasn't exactly livable. (i was, also, being a total wimp about the whole thing.) i wound up living with Mikey (and his two roommates) for a month and, in the meantime, found another apartment i liked better. so basically my stuff lived on Seeley Street for a month, and then i moved it out of there and into a much nicer place in a much nicer part of Windsor Terrace.

- that apartment was interesting because i shared it with a couple - a writer and an inspiring comedienne. it was uneventful for the most part, until they sort of kicked me out a year later. no hard feelings, they just wanted to get engaged, and i guess i should have expected that would be one of the pitfalls of living with a couple.

- my next apartment was probably the piece de resistance. i lived in a two-story place in Carroll Gardens with four girls who were a few years younger than me and my room had no window. i obviously knew all of that when i moved in, but what i didn't anticipate was the night my roommate's boyfriend would drunkenly mistake my bedroom for the bathroom and take a whiz on my Pottery Barn area rug. i woke up in the middle of the night thinking there was a leak in my room. technically i was right and, when the poor guy snapped out of it, he was mortified. but that was the moment i knew i was done with strange roommates from Craigslist.

ha. right. i guess i should have stuck to that. maybe i wouldn't be in my current situation now. not much apartment luck over the weekend other than a lead i'm still hoping pans out. my biggest wish right now, my ultimate dream, is to somehow find a place of my own. i just feel like, dammit, i've paid my dues. i've tried every other possible scenario. it's about time i get my own little nook in the world, dontcha think? my horoscope this morning said fate was on my side. just in case, people, keep your fingers crossed, eh?

mb

good news...

i got my check! just thought some of you out there might be losing sleep (as i was) wondering when in the freakin' world i would finally get paid. Saturday was my lucky day - and, as it turned out, my lucky moment since i was leaving the apartment building just as the mailman was putting the mail in. i would have otherwise needed to rely on my roommate to check the mail and i think it's safe to say she's not the most reliable human being... anyway, i took an immense amount of pleasure in depositing that check, i may have even been humming, and now i've got at least one weight off my shoulders. it's a start.

mb

vagabond redux

Sarah got me reading Susan Miller's Astrology Zone a few months ago, and it's been eerily on target since then. i sort of believe whole astrology thing - all the attributes (good and bad) of Sagittarius fit me to a tee. so in addition to the monthly forecast online, i read the daily version in the paper every morning. this morning mine said:

"Stay motivated and enthusiastic about life, Sag. Even if things seem challenging, push through to achieve your goals. Being overwhelmed could be nothing more than a despondent moment of not believing in yourself. Have the determination to bring your dreams to reality; don't give up! The planets urge you to keep a positive attitude and move forward."

the reason i mention this is because the planets may be urging me, but they're also testing me. i had a low-key night last night, a little relaxing, a little TV. i watched "Ugly Betty" and they made a reference to the Company i'm working for (or volunteering for, technically) and clearly when there's an "Ugly Betty" reference involved, you know you've made it.

but i didn't sleep well. there was no reason for it, i just had a vague uneasiness. i tossed and turned but still got myself up early to go running. i felt better than i had the morning before, and was feeling excited for my Friday when i got back to the apartment. waiting for me on my bed was a note from my roommate. she let me know she's having a dinner party tomorrow night - how very considerate of her - and also that she's renting out my room as of December 1 and i should "plan accordingly."

i'm sorry - come again?

that was all. no explanations, no apologies for the short notice. technically it's three weeks but with Thanksgiving mixed in it's really only two and considering my still-wobbly paycheck situation, another move so soon wasn't what i was planning. and i know what you're all thinking - 'well, you basically killed her cat with your mind powers, what did you expect?' good point, but not true. there were some other circumstances involved too ridiculous to get into now that i certainly didn't think would lead to this.

all i know is what i've known for a long time now - roommates in general are more trouble that they're worth. i should amend that - roommates found on craigslist are more trouble than they're worth. especially when you reach a certain age (say, post-twenty-five) and believe in your bones that it just shouldn't be this complicated.

i admit, after i read the note i got in the shower and a few tears leaked out. but i told myself to get it together, that obviously this is for the best, that i could handle this. and apparently the planets think i can, too.

dear god i hope we're right.

mb

a break in the clouds

huh. just when i think i'm losing my mind, it all comes together just like that.

well, maybe not 'just like that.' there were specific things involved in my stress dissipating: a little therapy, some cheese and vino with a good friend, and a nice brisk run to clear my head.

my therapist has been amazing the last few months - i haven't seen her that often, but she's been willing to see me despite the fact that i have no insurance. say what you will about New York City doctors - some of them aren't just about the money. anyway, i saw her last night and it was perfect timing. among other things, she told me i seemed to have found my baseline. if i were a level, the bubble would be smack in the middle. in other words, i am finally me. not off-balance me, not on-the-brink me, not sad-pathetic me. just...me. and from here, now i can accurately tell what makes me happy, what doesn't, what brings me down, what makes my life better. the minute my bubble moves, i know it, and i know why. and i was like, "ooooh, yes! that's true!" her basic message was: 'you can trust yourself now.' which is a nice thing to know one month and one day away from turning thirty-one.

after my session i said "screw the bank account" and met Lauren for some wine at this impossibly small bar off Irving Place where you really have to work to get a spot at one of the three long tables, but it makes sitting down and finally taking a sip that much sweeter. thankfully the tapas was inexpensive AND the waiter only charged us for one cuarto not the two we actually drank, so the tab was do-able even for a girl on Skid Row like me. i always love to see Lauren and last night was especially nice. we talked, among other things, about how "knowing yourself" is such a hard concept to grasp for a lot of people, but getting through life otherwise can be a huge challenge. after we left, i walked a few long blocks to the F train in the frigid night air feeling like a huge weight had been lifted somehow.

then - because i just signed up for a four-mile race a week from Sunday despite the fact that i am woefully unprepared - i got myself up early this morning for a three-mile run and what a difference it made in my mood. it wasn't easy but i didn't stop once and my cheeks were still nice and rosy when i left for work. and when i got to work i had an e-mail from my contact in Accounts Payable saying a check had been mailed out yesterday - payment for my first four weeks of work. so at least i'll be solvent again by Saturday.

so, see? see?! thinking positive so works. if you haven't tried it yet, you're missing out....

mb

optimistic-ish

i need to vent.

for the last few months - as i've mentioned here - i've been trying to think more positively about things. i was the most optimistic kid in the world back in the day, i'm pretty sure, but somewhere in my late teens i started being afraid to be so hopeful. i preferred expecting the worst to happen and then being happily surprised if it didn't. years of that will catch up with you, though, and so i made a conscious decision to try a different tack. and it worked. i think it's still working, but i've definitely hit a snag this week.

as of Sunday around 6 o'clock, i was feeling pretty content. things, however, quickly deteriorated. for starters, i am down to the dregs of my bank account because, yes, you guessed it, i still have not received a paycheck. (see what i mean about writers not getting respect?) i have done everything in my power to correct the situation short of going on strike myself (at this point, i'm billing this company for every damn hour i can) and i've been assured that the check is in the mail as of today. i certainly hope so. the lack of funds is preventing me from socializing* and the lack of socializing means i'm relegated to the apartment, which only reminds me of my desperate need to find a place to live where i actually have space to keep my clothes and a kitchen i can actually cook in. (walking home last night i passed a store that had a beautiful display of olive oil bottles and realized it has been painfully long since i cooked anything, with olive oil or otherwise, and an acute ache bloomed in my chest). of course, it's not very practical to look for a new place to live when you don't have any money in your bank account, and i'm right back where i started.

then this morning i opened an e-mail from my Aunt Val, which turned out to be a "Who's Your TV Boyfriend" quiz. without knowing who my options were, i took the quiz, answered the questions, and wouldn't you know - the one and only Jim Halpert from "The Office" is my ideal fake boyfriend. too bad that i'd read in the paper on my ride to work that Jim (aka John Krasinski) and Karen (aka Rashida Jones) are back together again. my fake boyfriend and his fake ex-girlfriend are hooking up in real life. could it get any worse?!

obviously it could. i know that. it's just this week i'm finding it harder to be positive. but i refuse to give in to my old ways. no more anticipating the worst just so i won't be disappointed. i'm way too optimistic for that.

mb

* my lovely, lovely, lovely friend Sarah offered to have me over last night and cook dinner for me - a cost-free night of socializing - but due to a piercing stress headache i developed at the end of the day, i had to take a raincheck. love you, Sarah.

empty space

this morning i heard three different references to MySpace on the Today show. not one was positive. and it brought to mind something i've wondered about for a while now - what is the real point of MySpace?

on one hand, it's no big deal. it's just a dumb site where people can show off how many friends they have and what kind of music they listen to and leave an array of messages for each other and track down names and faces they haven't thought about for years. on the other hand, when MySpace pages seem to be a primary source of major clues after murders, school shootings, abductions and disappearances, you have to wonder about the quality of the site, and the purpose.

i had a page for a while. i'm not even sure why - because my friends did? but soon i found myself wasting a lot of time - sometimes hours - just clicking, clicking, clicking. it was more of a compulsion than something i did because i was actually interested in it. it was another way to procrastinate at work, another thing to fill up time. and so one day - i can't remember when, maybe a year ago - i thought to myself, 'this is ridiculous. how old AM i?' and deleted my profile. i was done.

i know the site has its benefits. maybe someone has found long-lost family members because of it. unknown musicians are able to promote their music, and i'm sure some companies benefit from the advertising opportunities. but ultimately, i just don't think anything good can come of a site like that. maybe this doesn't apply to people under the age of 21. until then you're supposed to waste time doing stupid things. but, in the real world, if you're not just wasting time on MySpace, you're pseudo-stalking someone, or picking the corresponding smiley face to go with your "mood," or spending precious time tinkering with a layout, or cropping the perfect/sexiest/funniest picture of yourself when you could actually be doing something productive and creative with your time. right?

i don't know. maybe i just get the willies more easily than the average person. i was in college when the whole chat room thing got big in the late '90s and it was so easy to get tangled up that mess. i know MySpace - and Friendster and Facebook - isn't the same, but it isn't all that different either. even after i deleted my profile, i kept my MySpace account open, just because. but i closed it for good this morning. i don't begrudge anyone their MySpace habits - it's a free cyber world - i, for one, am just finished with the mindless clicking.

mb

picket and stick it

i haven't been paying much attention to the big writers strike here and in LA, but i have to say i'm all for it. without writers, all that would be left on television is reality shows and can you imagine what kind of world that would be? yes, yes, actors are important too, but they're properly compensated - usually grossly compensated.

speaking of gross... i read this morning that Eva Longoria tried to be cool and bring the striking writers some pizza. they essentially booed her and told her to get lost because she'd continued working once the strike began. she was, apparently, reduced to tears. i sort of found that funny.

on the flip side, i think it's great that Tina Fey and Julia Louis-Dreyfuss have joined the picketers. maybe it's their common SNL background, that they've worked so closely with writers, that they feel a kinship (or, you know, the fact that Tina Fey IS a writer). but they get it.

not that i've ever written for television (or anything close to it) but it seems writers are given little respect, financial or otherwise. no one pays attention when the "written by" credit pops up on the screen. no one listens when the "best writing" winner gets up to give a speech at the Emmy's. no one says, when an episode of "Grey's Anatomy" or "NCIS" is over, "hey, that was a great script." and, you know, it's not like David Letterman gets up there and just wings it every night. it's not like Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are that brilliant on their own.

i honestly don't know why i care so much. maybe it's something inherent in all writers - you're just born with the underdog complex, a nugget of certainty that you'll never get the respect you deserve, that you'll never be truly appreciated, and that someday Eva Longoria will try to make it all better...with pizza.

yep. that's a writer's life for you.

mb

looking up

i don't think i ever mentioned here that after all my blathering about the stars in Montana, there were none to see. well, there were stars, just basically the same amount i can see in my parents' backyard in PA. this discovery was disheartening to say the least. (apparently it's Eastern Montana that's truly Big Sky country - the western part, at least around Missoula, is too lit up with artificial light to give the stars a chance.)

i love the night sky. i guess i love the sky in general - it's a constant reminder that things happening on the ground are, in the end, so trivial. there are much larger, inexplicable things at play in the universe, many of them happening way up in the atmosphere and beyond. but i am particularly blown away by the night sky, easily transfixed by the moon, especially on nights when it's low and yellow and just hanging there. and i love the stars.

the last time i was in Lake Tahoe - a little more than four years ago, i think - i was out on my Uncle Paul's deck every night, staring up, probably with my mouth hanging open. it was startling what you could see up there, however many feet above sea level, with the clean, crisp air and the lack of city lights. it didn't seem real, it seemed like a giant screen on which some fantastic science fiction image was being projected. and i never forgot it. and i thought Montana would look the same.

i'd actually forgotten all about my Big Sky disappointment by the time Saturday night rolled around. then i looked up at the Connecticut sky. after New Haven came a stop in Old Saybrook, because i noticed the plethora of stars. it was a crystal clear night and when i actually got out of the car and gazed up, my mouth hung open all over again. it was just like Tahoe. it seemed like every star in the universe was visible. who knew?

at least i know now. and i know it makes me a real nerd, but i find it incredibly comforting that i don't have to travel across the country now to see such a display. they're all right there, a couple hours north, whenever i need them.

mb

out of my league

i wound up at Yale this weekend - long story - and it got me thinking again how life can be so backwards.

i wasn't actually AT Yale this weekend, i was just walking around near the campus, peering into the buildings' windows (they had a grand piano in one of the dining halls) and wishing i'd been smarter in high school, wondering how my life would be if i'd gone to an Ivy. but the thing is, i was happy in high school. i did things i loved, and i was successful. i wasn't a slouch by any means. i was in AP English. i edited the newspaper. i just didn't make academics the center of my existence. at that point, it was more important to me to do background research on P.T. Barnum's wife, Charity (a character i played in the spring musical) than to memorize all the elements on the Periodic Table or get lost in the details of World War II. and my priorities back in high school seemed perfectly appropriate to me.

but that's the unfair part. it's the rare kid who has the foresight to set herself up for a life of open doors, who realizes that no, geometry might not be very practical for someone who wants to be a writer, but the geometry grade will appear on the transcript and that transcript is all you've got in high school. my father tried to impart that nugget of knowledge to me many times. he told me about his experiences in high school, how he hadn't applied himself the way he probably should have, that he would do things differently if given another shot. i listened, but i didn't get it. how could i at that point? my frame of reference was so limited. (i always thought i had an old soul, but somehow that soul didn't come with all the wisdom that comes with old age.) so his words went in one ear and out the other. and, in the end, i did OK. i went to an OK college, and i did OK there, too.

it just wasn't Yale. which isn't a big deal. i got a good education, i learned and grew a lot where i went. but walking around New Haven, seeing how the other half experiences college, reminded me that youth is absolutely wasted on the young. if i could do it all over again, knowing what i know now, i would've maybe put the amount of attention and perfectionism into my school work as i did into learning how to juggle (Charity Barnum juggled). i would have looked around at the world a little more, tried different things, knowing that chances of being set on a career path at age seventeen are very slim. maybe i wouldn't have put all my eggs in one basket.

there's not much i can do about it now - and truly, i don't have any real regrets - except try to pass on the same advice to my own kids someday. and, of course, feel the same frustration my father felt, watching the advice go in one ear and right out the other. because things will never change. youth is, and always will be, completely wasted on the young.

mb

workin' hard and hardly workin'

last night our whole department (or at least the cool ones) went out after work. first for Korean BBQ, then - what else - karaoke. it was a much-needed opportunity to blow off steam and everyone took full advantage. i should add here that i haven't received a paycheck yet from the Company. today is the last day of my fifth week at my new job and i haven't seen a nickel. apparently the situation is being rectified, but it's been, you know, a little stressful in the meantime. however: last night i sort of forgot about paychecks and was just glad to have landed somewhere with a group of people who never say "no" when it comes to sake, and who have no qualms about going all out when doing a renditition of "Straight Up" with their co-workers. it was one of the more hilarious nights i've spent recently - many people were in tears many times from laughing too hard - and i'm not saying i'm OK with this no-paycheck thing, but i do have to say that it's sort of crazy what a difference it can make in one's life when the job situation comes together. i'm realizing as the weeks go by that a lot of my uneasiness and unhappiness in the last few years (probably more than a few) was because my jobs weren't quite right. i'm not ready to call this my dream job yet, but it's a big improvement and i'm noticing a difference.

if i'm this content now, imagine how i'll feel when i actually get paid!

mb

armed and dangerous

i went to Sarah and Roy's last night for dinner (where i learned that Kit-Kats are a delicacy in Israel and also about the apparent entertainment value of Facebook) and walked home feeling upbeat but wary. there were still figures in costumes walking around, but all the kiddies had gone home for the night and you just never know... but i made it back to my building with no problems. i climbed the endless staircases to get to the apartment and just as i reached the fourth floor - my floor - i nearly jumped out of my skin. i gasped and almost turned around to flee back down the stairs. this is why:


har har har. funny neighbors. i don't even know them, but now i know their sense of humor. that's their door, by the way, their doormat. mine is the one just to the right, practically the same entrance, and yes, for a half a nanosecond i thought a real severed arm was sitting there outside the apartment. duh. i guess that was my reminder to lighten up and enjoy Halloween.

i have to admit, i walked by a kid in a Wonder Woman costume last night on Henry Street and i remembered seeing the same costume, but adult-sized, in a store over the weekend. hmm. maybe next year....

mb