CAMERA DAY

silly but funny

the name game

Your movie star name: French Fries Frank

Your fashion designer name is Leah Paris

Your socialite name is Noodle New York

Your fly girl / guy name is L Phi

Your detective name is Cat Spectrum

Your barfly name is Salad Beer

Your soap opera name is Frances Agnes

Your rock star name is Red Licorice Cheetah

Your star wars name is Leafis Phimic

Your punk rock band name is The Sad Eyelash Curler

The Amazing Meganame Generator

white stockings in the rain become pink, oh! the trouble with red shoes.

what's it all for?

growing up, i used to take the #5, beacon hill bus home from school. this bus was overflowing with the elderly and sprinkled here and there were a few begruding high school students such as myself who couldn't afford a car. after all, i'm from a town of the "newly wed and nearly dead." there is not much in between, but that's another tale, for another time.

for those years of busriding, i could not take my eyes off this one particular woman. her face was fascinating, like a bad car crash. you wanted to, badly, but you couldn't look away. white, shiny, THICK with moisturizer. blonde hair pulled tightly back, little to no make-up. her age was anyone's guess, as was the amount of oil of olay it would take to make someone look quite this... SLICK. i am not usually judgemental about the way people choose to adorn themselves. to each their own aesthetic i say. but this lady!! i saw her daily for at least 4 years. if i saw her too close to the dinner hour, i lost my appetite. she looked like an escapee from madame tussauds: ghastly, white, smooth and taut. i found myself wondering: what was it all for?

she was dressed normally. she had on a wedding band. she carried groceries. she was perhaps going home to a family. kids? grandkids? who knew. but WHEN did she wash that crud off? WHO got to see just how wonderfully these miracle creams were working? were there 10 minutes a day, right after washing her face before bed, and before applying her mint julep night mask that her husband sidled up to her and exclaimed, "my, you look young" ?? would she, at age 75, suddenly go cream free? joyously taking her throne as the beauty queen of the beacon hill bus grey hair society?

when do we stop doing these rituals that may preserve our youth in some future regard, but prevent us from ever looking youthful in the moment? i am tired of sleeping beside people wearing crest white strips. they may as well be dentures, for how sexy they are.

anyway, cut forward 15 years. i am home visiting my parents. i catch the bus a few times. on my second to last day, she gets on. and she looks, exactly, the same: WAXY.

RANDOM FACT ABOUT ME: i do not own a digital camera. i am a complete photobooth addict and plan on purchasng one asap.

canada day?

according to central park summer stage, it's canada day today, june 25th. i do love the attention paid to detail. anyway, so i'll do 2 canada days-- one today, and one july 1st-- yes, that's right, that's the REAL one. not that it doesn't feel like a real canada day today, all rainy and grey. all i am missing is some fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, and i'd be just spiffy under my umbrella. after all, i've already had weet-a-bix for breakfast.

anyway, today is day one of a brand new start in new york for yours truly. i'll have to tell you the story of what i mean by that another time, but just take it on trust that it is. i have 2 whole canadian friends to meet in the park (equally mystified by the twice celebrated holiday), i have an afternoon of fabulous music awaiting me, and best yet: i have an excuse to leave my apartment. work has kept me prisoner in here far too long. i'm going to have fun.



RANDOM FACT ABOUT ME: i am presently engrossed in 3 linguistics textbooks.

crocodile tears

"An insincere display of grief, as in 'When the play's star broke her leg, her understudy wept crocodile tears.' This term comes from the mistaken notion that crocodiles weep while eating their prey, one held in ancient Roman times. The actual term was picked up by Shakespeare and many other writers after him, and remains current. [Late 1500s]"

"Crocodile tears can also be used to describe large raindrops (about a third of an inch in diameter)."

growing up i was taught that it was improper to cry over emotional matters, that tears were usually an expression of feeling sorry for yourself and therefore only to be reserved for actual physical pain, such as falling off your bicycle, hard, or getting your middle finger sprained in a basketball game. my parents yelled at me when i cried, as i suppose anything a little girl would cry about was deemed too insignificant for tears. i learned to hold them back, and even as an adult to hide them away and only occasionally let them gush forth in heaving sobs, which the whole time i'm letting go of, i am feeling guilty for doing so. with me it's usually all or nothing. i don't know if that's a healthy practice, and it certainly doesn't provide much relief. my dad always called them crocodile tears, so i equate crying with selfishness.

a few days ago i lost the dearest friend who is in any sort of physical proximity to me. i do have friends at home, but that's 2,000 miles away. and this person had become as close to me as anyone i've known for a lifetime. i lost him through my own stupidity, through my own misguided actions. and now he's gone and my apartment haunts me. i look over at the table where we had dinner so often. i open the cupboards and see the food i bought in case he dropped by for a visit. today i washed out the coffee pot, realizing i had not made coffee since i made it last sunday morning, him sitting in the patch of sun falling from my kitchen skylight, telling stories, making me laugh. i can't stand to throw out his coffee cup, his mille bornes game, his pictures. and i am incredibly, truly alone.

i lay on the couch this after noon watching a film, chinatown. outside it rained in a near biblical fashion, with drops at least a third of an inch in diameter. i caught myself hugging the pillow beside me and slowly i became aware of the tears also running down my face. i did not feel guilty, and they were not selfish. i suddenly knew that sometimes it must be ok to cry. i miss you my friend, and i am sorry. i wish you the best.

hey, it's how i feel today: see pic

not much of a blog lately, i know, i know. so freakin busy. too busy for anything of note to happen to me outside of the 10 by 10 cell that is my bedroom/ office space-- and little of note happens in there as well, trust me. unless you count listening to snoring as a fun treat at the end of a day.

one good thing: after years apart, and my moving 2000 miles away, i find myself reconnecting with a dear old friend. it's truly lovely and the highlight of my morning to read his blog. i thank him :)

RANDOM FACT ABOUT ME: working from home i find myself doing previously unimaginable things. like today, watching "charmed" at 9am. television in the daytime? uggh. don't tell.