Ok, a little ranting and raving here. I am on the job search again. Yes, there are tears involved along with drinking, self-loathing, and just enough desperation any job seems better than none at all. These are actually the needed ingredients for writing the perfect cover letter. It's a pretty soul-destroying frustrating process that I've basically accepted and learned to smile through. Until I came across a job listing tonight.
First, a history lesson.
Now let's be honest- this country was founded on discrimination. It was founded by a group of white, heterosexual (at least on the surface) rich males who intended to keep the power where they thought it should be (in their hands) and created the facade of a vote to make people think that once every couple of years the power was in their hands and that they really were all equals. Discrimination and lies of course eventually gave birth to capitalism and consumerism thus creating the perfect foundation on which we lay all of our bullshit in hopes of building towards a better tomorrow. God bless America.
But here's the loophole. People eventually caught on. And there were protests, and lots of violence, and the past fifty years (and a few amendments later) America has worked very hard at implementing a mask of sorts we refer to as "political correctness". See, here's how it works. You can be a racist, you can be an ageist, a sexist, a masochist, a homophobe... you can hate anybody you want to hate (even yourself) for whatever mundane reason. You just can't talk about it. You can't advertise. You can privately discriminate as much as you damn well please, but you just can't go public with it, because then it becomes an ugly mess.
And we're fine with this. Most of the time being politically correct means twisting our words so what we're saying sounds a lot better than how we mean it. Or, as it's known in more honest cultures...lying. But whatever. Fewer tears are shed, fewer law suits are filed, and we're getting better and better through the aid of our government at filtering our anger out internationally instead of domestically.
So anyway the point of this rant and rave is that I'm on the job search and I come across this ad on VillageVoice.com.
NEEDED.
AFRICAN AMERICAN SECRETARY FOR BUSY MIDTOWN OFFICE.
$10/hr.
Benefits.
Ok. Now, call me crazy but I feel as if this politically correct equality driven society we're working really hard at achieving is actually being completely disregarded by the very people it was created to serve. I can only assume that this employer is an African American and not a Caucasian. Not because I don't think a Caucasian employer would want to post an ad like this. But you can be damn well sure they wouldn't do it out of fear of being deemed a racist or getting their asses sued for such open discrimination. Of course I'm not ruling that out- it could be a really really stupid white person- in which case you could just ignore this blog. But if I'm right (and I suspect I am)- I want to know when discrimination and racism suddenly became acceptable as long as it wasn't directed at a minority group. Because something tells me that if there was an ad in the Village Voice saying "SECRETARY NEEDED. WHITE PERSON ONLY" it wouldn't exactly fly. It probably wouldn't have even been published. Just like my sarcastic suggestion of starting the network WET (White Entertainment Television) is generally passed off as absurdity.
And that is just waaaaaaaaaay too much bullshit and hypocrisy to pile on top of our foundation. Eventually it's going to crumble. Now, if you'll excuse me I have an email to write to the Village Voice classifieds department. Because yes, I'm unemployed and have nothing better to do.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Friday, April 20, 2007
Late Night Laughs With The GOP. Ba Dum Dum (::Cue Bomb Instead of Symbol::)
I'm liberal, almost to a fault. I love leftist groups that still actually care enough to form something that could result in even the smallest tidal wave in political action. Something I should confess is that I also sometimes hate things that deep down are good for me or for the world. For example...I hated when my Nana would put Wheatgerm on my yummy sugar infested maple brown sugar oatmeal. I expressed skepticism over Mother Theresa's motivations. The Truth commercials make me want to buy stock in Marlboro. I find racist, sexist, ageist, and all kinds of politically incorrect statements hilarious.
That being said, I hate Moveon.org.
Every day I get a new email in my box from them, each one equally ignored. They're relentless. Yet I can't mark their email address as spam. Partially because there are now too many of them to keep track of. But also because that would, by definition, make me a bad liberal. This is what I stand for right? Then why do Eli and Nita aggravate me so?
I'll tell you why. Their damn "subjects". I'll be one to admit that finding the proper subject title for a mass email is difficult. But really, nothing can excuse what I found in my inbox today.
"BOMBING IRAN: NOT FUNNY."
Did anyone think it was? Is there a group of individuals out there using this for stand up material?? Are Bush and Cheney introducing the idea with the statement, "Boy have we got something John Stewart could use tonight....". I don't know. But just like I say about the person who comes up with the Daily News headlines, there has got to be someone better to do this job....
Nita, Eli, do yourself a favor. Find someone better.
Thank you for that free bumper sticker, though.
After my student loan officer, your organization will be the first to know when I've overcome my economic hardship.
That being said, I hate Moveon.org.
Every day I get a new email in my box from them, each one equally ignored. They're relentless. Yet I can't mark their email address as spam. Partially because there are now too many of them to keep track of. But also because that would, by definition, make me a bad liberal. This is what I stand for right? Then why do Eli and Nita aggravate me so?
I'll tell you why. Their damn "subjects". I'll be one to admit that finding the proper subject title for a mass email is difficult. But really, nothing can excuse what I found in my inbox today.
"BOMBING IRAN: NOT FUNNY."
Did anyone think it was? Is there a group of individuals out there using this for stand up material?? Are Bush and Cheney introducing the idea with the statement, "Boy have we got something John Stewart could use tonight....". I don't know. But just like I say about the person who comes up with the Daily News headlines, there has got to be someone better to do this job....
Nita, Eli, do yourself a favor. Find someone better.
Thank you for that free bumper sticker, though.
After my student loan officer, your organization will be the first to know when I've overcome my economic hardship.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
The Fight to Eliminate Static and Have Faith In The Constitution: A Story That Will Never Make Sense on Jupiter
The Fight to Eliminate Static and Have Faith In The Constitution: A Story That Will Never Make Sense on Jupiter
I love my part of Astoria. Mostly for the cheap rent but also because it has yet to really be infiltrated with the "we're young and cool but don't fit in with the hipsters in Brooklyn" establishments and people. Not to say I don't like that area, but my part (technically still Long Island City) is mostly Hispanic and mostly families which makes me feel a little more removed from my day to day life. Most of the business owners and people don't speak English very well which is just fine with me. I don't generally have to converse much except to ask for cigarettes and five dollars in quarters to do laundry. That was until Sunday night. I was doing my laundry and putting my clothes in the dryer. I reached for my dryer sheets that claim to smell like mountain air and lilac (apparently the best duo since peanut butter and jelly) when I felt a tap on my shoulder. A woman in her thirties smiled and pointed.
"What are those?"
"Dryer sheets"
"I no understand"
"They're dryer sheets"
"Yes, but what they do?"
"Um...they prevent static I think"
I really don't know what they do. But ever since my Mom sent me off to college with a box they've become a staple in my laundry supplies. And when placed in a roll of toilet paper they create a device that makes your dorm room smell like clean laundry and pot which is of course far less suspicious than pot alone in your stoned paranoid mind.
"No understand. I see box?"
I gave her the box mostly because she already grabbed it from my hand but also I wanted to see how a woman who spoke very little English could somehow decipher the function of dryer sheets from the English instructions on the box.
"I no understand"
I shrug my shoulder and just say "static" as if suddenly all the pieces will fit together and she'll understand why Bounce created this product. And then she'll be able to explain to me why mountain air and lilac go so well together.
For some reason I flashed back to fifth grade. I had this American history teacher who would constantly test our knowledge of our government by asking, "Let's say someone came down from another planet and had no idea what democracy was or any of the words we use to define it like 'vote' or 'president' or 'law'. How would you explain it to them?"
No one would ever really be able to do it because we'd be stuck on how to explain the word 'go' or 'the'. Plus it's not exactly like we could put our skills to the test. Oh hold on Jimmy let me just call the office and get that boy from Jupiter to come here and see if he understands. If someone ever did come down from Jupiter I thought there were far more interesting things we created on earth than democracy that would need to be explained.
Eventually you just start resorting to ludicrous gestures when words fail. Democracy somehow got reduced to circular motions with our hands and arms and someone walking around pretending like they were the president. In this situation static suddenly became some sort of horizontal motion that looked like I had a giant rubber band between my hands. I even picked up my sweater and fondled it thinking that would really drive the point home. I was tempted to just give her one and tell her to try it but I knew that the lack of effect dryer sheets have would confuse her more than my ridiculous hand motions and offer no explanation as to why American mothers send their children to college with them along with pre-measured blocks of Tide, and a case of Ramen noodles. It would just be an empty promise of improvement.
The democratic system we had in our country has become about as functional as dryer sheets. And Democrats and Republicans actually working together seems as ludicrous as the idea that mountain air and lilac are the best duo since peanut butter and jelly. Travelling outside of the US you get a lot of questions about some of our practices. "Why is New York called the Big Apple?" "How many cups of Starbucks do you drink in a day?" "Why do you think Seinfeld is funny?".
I never get asked about our government or called upon to explain checks and balances using hand gestures and simple verbs. Partially because the answer wouldn't really explain our country as well as the secret behind how a show about nothing kept people interested for almost a decade. Or why a company making bad expensive coffee became the greatest corporation since Mac and IBM. But mostly because people just don't care as much as our fifth grade history text books make us believe. Yes, we have a great country but our revolutionary democracy doesn't really seem to really be as alluring or functional to the outsider. Until very recently I used to get angry about the way our government is functioning. Now I have the same feelings as I do about my dryer sheets. I still care, Still I buy dryer sheets hoping they have an effect on my clothing and think for longer than I should about what would be better: mountain rain and lilac or tangerine and white musk? Just like I still try to believe one day very soon democracy will have definition in our lives again. Or at least make more sense than paying for overpriced coffee.
I love my part of Astoria. Mostly for the cheap rent but also because it has yet to really be infiltrated with the "we're young and cool but don't fit in with the hipsters in Brooklyn" establishments and people. Not to say I don't like that area, but my part (technically still Long Island City) is mostly Hispanic and mostly families which makes me feel a little more removed from my day to day life. Most of the business owners and people don't speak English very well which is just fine with me. I don't generally have to converse much except to ask for cigarettes and five dollars in quarters to do laundry. That was until Sunday night. I was doing my laundry and putting my clothes in the dryer. I reached for my dryer sheets that claim to smell like mountain air and lilac (apparently the best duo since peanut butter and jelly) when I felt a tap on my shoulder. A woman in her thirties smiled and pointed.
"What are those?"
"Dryer sheets"
"I no understand"
"They're dryer sheets"
"Yes, but what they do?"
"Um...they prevent static I think"
I really don't know what they do. But ever since my Mom sent me off to college with a box they've become a staple in my laundry supplies. And when placed in a roll of toilet paper they create a device that makes your dorm room smell like clean laundry and pot which is of course far less suspicious than pot alone in your stoned paranoid mind.
"No understand. I see box?"
I gave her the box mostly because she already grabbed it from my hand but also I wanted to see how a woman who spoke very little English could somehow decipher the function of dryer sheets from the English instructions on the box.
"I no understand"
I shrug my shoulder and just say "static" as if suddenly all the pieces will fit together and she'll understand why Bounce created this product. And then she'll be able to explain to me why mountain air and lilac go so well together.
For some reason I flashed back to fifth grade. I had this American history teacher who would constantly test our knowledge of our government by asking, "Let's say someone came down from another planet and had no idea what democracy was or any of the words we use to define it like 'vote' or 'president' or 'law'. How would you explain it to them?"
No one would ever really be able to do it because we'd be stuck on how to explain the word 'go' or 'the'. Plus it's not exactly like we could put our skills to the test. Oh hold on Jimmy let me just call the office and get that boy from Jupiter to come here and see if he understands. If someone ever did come down from Jupiter I thought there were far more interesting things we created on earth than democracy that would need to be explained.
Eventually you just start resorting to ludicrous gestures when words fail. Democracy somehow got reduced to circular motions with our hands and arms and someone walking around pretending like they were the president. In this situation static suddenly became some sort of horizontal motion that looked like I had a giant rubber band between my hands. I even picked up my sweater and fondled it thinking that would really drive the point home. I was tempted to just give her one and tell her to try it but I knew that the lack of effect dryer sheets have would confuse her more than my ridiculous hand motions and offer no explanation as to why American mothers send their children to college with them along with pre-measured blocks of Tide, and a case of Ramen noodles. It would just be an empty promise of improvement.
The democratic system we had in our country has become about as functional as dryer sheets. And Democrats and Republicans actually working together seems as ludicrous as the idea that mountain air and lilac are the best duo since peanut butter and jelly. Travelling outside of the US you get a lot of questions about some of our practices. "Why is New York called the Big Apple?" "How many cups of Starbucks do you drink in a day?" "Why do you think Seinfeld is funny?".
I never get asked about our government or called upon to explain checks and balances using hand gestures and simple verbs. Partially because the answer wouldn't really explain our country as well as the secret behind how a show about nothing kept people interested for almost a decade. Or why a company making bad expensive coffee became the greatest corporation since Mac and IBM. But mostly because people just don't care as much as our fifth grade history text books make us believe. Yes, we have a great country but our revolutionary democracy doesn't really seem to really be as alluring or functional to the outsider. Until very recently I used to get angry about the way our government is functioning. Now I have the same feelings as I do about my dryer sheets. I still care, Still I buy dryer sheets hoping they have an effect on my clothing and think for longer than I should about what would be better: mountain rain and lilac or tangerine and white musk? Just like I still try to believe one day very soon democracy will have definition in our lives again. Or at least make more sense than paying for overpriced coffee.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
CONSPIRACY
Where have all the Rhinos gone??
KATHMANDU (Reuters) - Dozens of endangered Great One-horned rhinoceros have mysteriously gone missing from a nature reserve in southwest Nepal over the past few years, a wildlife official said on Wednesday.
Authorities introduced 72 rhinos, also known as the Indian rhinoceros, in the Babai Valley, 320 km (200 miles) southwest of Kathmandu, as part of a conservation drive that started in 1984.
"We have records showing 23 rhinos had died due to poaching or other causes. The rest are missing," Laxmi Prasad Manandhar, a senior official at the Department of National Park and Wildlife Conservation, said.
But he ruled out the possibility of all the 49 missing rhinos falling prey to poachers.
"If poachers had killed them they should have left behind the bodies" after taking away the horn, he said, adding that just one rhino skeleton had been found during an extensive search in June.
"Where did they go? I have no answer. It is a mystery," Manandhar said.
The rhinos were moved to Babai Valley from Chitwan National Park on Nepal's southern plains under a conservation scheme supported by global conservation group WWF.
In December, Nepal's Supreme Court ordered the government to step up security at Chitwan -- the Himalayan nation's biggest rhino reserve -- after local media reported at least 10 animals had been killed since July.
Officials say at least 12 rhinos had died in the past six months in Chitwan where their population dropped to 372 in 2005 from 544 in 2000.
Their numbers fell mainly due to poaching for horns which are believed to have aphrodisiac qualities and are in great demand in China.
In the Babai Valley, rhinos were last seen seven years ago when several security posts were closed due to threats from the Maoist rebels who targeted them during their decade-long insurgency against Nepal's monarchy.
The Maoists declared a ceasefire in April and signed a peace deal with the government in November, allowing easier and safer movement of forestry officials.
Nepal began its rhino conservation drive 30 years ago when the population fell to 108 animals from around 800 in 1950. One-horned rhinos are also found in the northeastern Indian state of Assam.
The one-horned species of the rhinoceros has been one of the greatest conservation success stories in South Asia. With strict protection, especially in India, their total numbers have touched around 2,500 from 100 about a century ago.
KATHMANDU (Reuters) - Dozens of endangered Great One-horned rhinoceros have mysteriously gone missing from a nature reserve in southwest Nepal over the past few years, a wildlife official said on Wednesday.
Authorities introduced 72 rhinos, also known as the Indian rhinoceros, in the Babai Valley, 320 km (200 miles) southwest of Kathmandu, as part of a conservation drive that started in 1984.
"We have records showing 23 rhinos had died due to poaching or other causes. The rest are missing," Laxmi Prasad Manandhar, a senior official at the Department of National Park and Wildlife Conservation, said.
But he ruled out the possibility of all the 49 missing rhinos falling prey to poachers.
"If poachers had killed them they should have left behind the bodies" after taking away the horn, he said, adding that just one rhino skeleton had been found during an extensive search in June.
"Where did they go? I have no answer. It is a mystery," Manandhar said.
The rhinos were moved to Babai Valley from Chitwan National Park on Nepal's southern plains under a conservation scheme supported by global conservation group WWF.
In December, Nepal's Supreme Court ordered the government to step up security at Chitwan -- the Himalayan nation's biggest rhino reserve -- after local media reported at least 10 animals had been killed since July.
Officials say at least 12 rhinos had died in the past six months in Chitwan where their population dropped to 372 in 2005 from 544 in 2000.
Their numbers fell mainly due to poaching for horns which are believed to have aphrodisiac qualities and are in great demand in China.
In the Babai Valley, rhinos were last seen seven years ago when several security posts were closed due to threats from the Maoist rebels who targeted them during their decade-long insurgency against Nepal's monarchy.
The Maoists declared a ceasefire in April and signed a peace deal with the government in November, allowing easier and safer movement of forestry officials.
Nepal began its rhino conservation drive 30 years ago when the population fell to 108 animals from around 800 in 1950. One-horned rhinos are also found in the northeastern Indian state of Assam.
The one-horned species of the rhinoceros has been one of the greatest conservation success stories in South Asia. With strict protection, especially in India, their total numbers have touched around 2,500 from 100 about a century ago.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I Can Be Your First Degree
Last night I saw the Ed Harris play, "Wrecks", at the Public. Written and directed by our one and only woman hating misogynist would-have-blown-Strindberg-out-of-the-water Neil Labute. The play was fun mostly because Ed Harris was sitting there talking on stage for an hour and the man could make long division look captivating on stage.
Anyhooo....the best part of the eveing has a little back story to it. On Sun I went to go pick up my "Wrecks" ticket when I saw "Durango". When I went to pick up my ticket they said "Oh no...your friend put you down for Sunday (meaning that day) not Tuesday." WELL when Heidi found out about this she gave em hell. So much hell in fact, that this box office girl sat me next to a very special someone:
Kevin Bacon.
The ironic part of the whole thing was this was not the first time Mr. Bacon and I were close. About two years ago he came into a store I was working at on the UWS and had me fit him for a pack for his son who was about to backpack Europe. Yes I touched his body. In case you were wondering.
Anyway, now, the next time you play "Six Degrees Of Kevin Bacon"...you know because people actually do that post 1990...you can say "My friend Faetra sat next to Kevin Bacon at a play at the Public called Wrecks."
Anyhooo....the best part of the eveing has a little back story to it. On Sun I went to go pick up my "Wrecks" ticket when I saw "Durango". When I went to pick up my ticket they said "Oh no...your friend put you down for Sunday (meaning that day) not Tuesday." WELL when Heidi found out about this she gave em hell. So much hell in fact, that this box office girl sat me next to a very special someone:
Kevin Bacon.
The ironic part of the whole thing was this was not the first time Mr. Bacon and I were close. About two years ago he came into a store I was working at on the UWS and had me fit him for a pack for his son who was about to backpack Europe. Yes I touched his body. In case you were wondering.
Anyway, now, the next time you play "Six Degrees Of Kevin Bacon"...you know because people actually do that post 1990...you can say "My friend Faetra sat next to Kevin Bacon at a play at the Public called Wrecks."
Monday, November 13, 2006
The Series of Unfortunate Events of November 13th
These are the bad things that happened to me today.
My uncle died. I don't even really know what to say about this right now. I still haven't cried. I still haven't let it sink.
My phone officially broke. My screen appears to be speaking in some kind of satanic tongue and I need to talk to my friends more than anything right now.
The bottoms of my jeans are wet and torn from walking in the rain.
I ran out of green tea.
My bank ran out of the temporary access cards I needed to access all of my money since losing my debit card over the weekend. The new one won't come in the mail until Tuesday.
I want a hug and the apartment is empty.
Pearl Harbor has nothing on the infamy of today.
My uncle died. I don't even really know what to say about this right now. I still haven't cried. I still haven't let it sink.
My phone officially broke. My screen appears to be speaking in some kind of satanic tongue and I need to talk to my friends more than anything right now.
The bottoms of my jeans are wet and torn from walking in the rain.
I ran out of green tea.
My bank ran out of the temporary access cards I needed to access all of my money since losing my debit card over the weekend. The new one won't come in the mail until Tuesday.
I want a hug and the apartment is empty.
Pearl Harbor has nothing on the infamy of today.
David Ives and Death
This afternoon I am sitting at my desk processing an application for a theatre company to perform a series of David Ives plays when a call gets patched through to my desk. It's my Dad. He sounds like he's been crying.
"I have bad news"
And I just know. The only question is who. Not my brother, please not my brother... was all I kept thinking.
It was my uncle. He died this morning.
And then I get deja vu. Back in August I was sitting at my desk processing an application for a series of David Ives plays when Heidi got patched through and told me that Larry had died.
For now on I will extra cautious when processing requests to do David Ives plays.
That's all I have right now.
"I have bad news"
And I just know. The only question is who. Not my brother, please not my brother... was all I kept thinking.
It was my uncle. He died this morning.
And then I get deja vu. Back in August I was sitting at my desk processing an application for a series of David Ives plays when Heidi got patched through and told me that Larry had died.
For now on I will extra cautious when processing requests to do David Ives plays.
That's all I have right now.
Chair Kickers and Groaners
Today I went to the Public to catch an afternoon performance of the new Julia Cho play "Durango".
And this guy sitting behind me kept kicking my motha f-ing chair. The whole frackin' show long. You would think after the first ten times it happened he would have realized his supercilious legs didn't fit in front of him. But no kick kick kick he went. I mean it's not everyday you get to see an Asian American verison of "Death of a Salesman".
Then it turned out he was a groaner. Now you all know what I mean by groaner. Fordham was loaded with them. It's either a groan or the occasional "huh" . You'll find a few of them in every play you see. Something really great will be said on stage and they as an audience member feel the obligation to let everyone around them know they were affected by verbally responding.
Not the thing to do to me after a night of gin, most of which was still alive and kicking in my blood stream.
And this guy sitting behind me kept kicking my motha f-ing chair. The whole frackin' show long. You would think after the first ten times it happened he would have realized his supercilious legs didn't fit in front of him. But no kick kick kick he went. I mean it's not everyday you get to see an Asian American verison of "Death of a Salesman".
Then it turned out he was a groaner. Now you all know what I mean by groaner. Fordham was loaded with them. It's either a groan or the occasional "huh" . You'll find a few of them in every play you see. Something really great will be said on stage and they as an audience member feel the obligation to let everyone around them know they were affected by verbally responding.
Not the thing to do to me after a night of gin, most of which was still alive and kicking in my blood stream.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Bye bye Rummie bye bye bye...
That's right folks. Democratic controlled congress. Forcing Bush to make the world a safer place, one failure at a time.
Even if they still have no platform.
This is what I propose: VOTE DEMOCRAT IN '08 BECAUSE WE'RE....NOT REPUBLICANS.
But for now, I will be happy.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Randomosity AKA My Job Sometimes Makes Me Want To Die.
Kate and I drank about six bellinis each on Sunday at brunch. Followed by half a bottle of wine. Every Sunday should be so good.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
For Mistakes I Made
Ok so I'm normally not a fan of the "write the lyrics to a song" blog. I just don't think it translates well. However, I rediscovered a song tonight. It's called "Mistakes I Made" by Fran Lucci. I don't really know the artist that well, but somehow this song made its way into my high school CD collection. Back then, these lyrics meant little to me. It was just a sweet song. But listening to it tonight, I just don't think anything I could say about my life could be as exact as this song. It's strange how time changes perspective. So, here goes.
It really is a miracle that I have come this far.
Without a hope, without a prayer, without a guiding star.
In spite of my naivete and many dreams betrayed,
I know I would not be here now,
But for mistakes I made.
But for mistakes I made.
Who know who I might be.
Some other heart, some other soul, some other destiny.
But for the times I took a wrong turn unafraid.
I might have missed it all.
But for mistakes I made.
So many times I tried to change things out of my control.
The jealousy and all the rage that swallowed me up whole.
The years that I spent loving those who did not feel the same.
The times I didn't trust myself with only me to blame.
But for mistakes I made.
Who knows where I might be.
Some other place, some other time, some other destiny.
But for the times I took a wrong turn unafraid.
I might have missed it all,
But for mistakes I made.
These things have taught me what is real.
How to laugh, how to cry, how to love... without regret.
And when to say hello.
And goodbye.
I know whatever comes my way my dues have all been paid.
But you would not be in my life.
But for mistakes I made.
But for mistakes I made.
Who knows who I might be.
Some other heart, some other soul, some other destiny.
But for the times I took a wrong turn afraid.
I might have missed it all,
But for mistakes I made.
I might have missed it all.
But for mistakes I made.
It really is a miracle that I have come this far.
Without a hope, without a prayer, without a guiding star.
In spite of my naivete and many dreams betrayed,
I know I would not be here now,
But for mistakes I made.
But for mistakes I made.
Who know who I might be.
Some other heart, some other soul, some other destiny.
But for the times I took a wrong turn unafraid.
I might have missed it all.
But for mistakes I made.
So many times I tried to change things out of my control.
The jealousy and all the rage that swallowed me up whole.
The years that I spent loving those who did not feel the same.
The times I didn't trust myself with only me to blame.
But for mistakes I made.
Who knows where I might be.
Some other place, some other time, some other destiny.
But for the times I took a wrong turn unafraid.
I might have missed it all,
But for mistakes I made.
These things have taught me what is real.
How to laugh, how to cry, how to love... without regret.
And when to say hello.
And goodbye.
I know whatever comes my way my dues have all been paid.
But you would not be in my life.
But for mistakes I made.
But for mistakes I made.
Who knows who I might be.
Some other heart, some other soul, some other destiny.
But for the times I took a wrong turn afraid.
I might have missed it all,
But for mistakes I made.
I might have missed it all.
But for mistakes I made.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Crazy Scientologist Tuesday
Uh...yeah...of course
Dharma couldn't take the heat:
Sure...
Ok well everyone knew you were a crazypants:
Let's just get one more of Tom:
NOW L. RON HUBBARD HAS GONE TOO FAR:
Why, Danny, why?
Dharma couldn't take the heat:
Sure...
Ok well everyone knew you were a crazypants:
Let's just get one more of Tom:
NOW L. RON HUBBARD HAS GONE TOO FAR:
Why, Danny, why?
Monday, October 23, 2006
Elevator Antics Lead To Conspiracy
I don't like elevators. They make me nauseous. The technology and reliability of them seems a little sketchy. Maybe it was when I was forced on "Tower of Terror" at MGM Studios that the fear really began. Or maybe it's purely developmental. Either way, there's not a moving object I like being transported in less than an elevator.
This past week at work my opposition to elevators took an interesting twist. This is what happened. Last Thursday I got on the elevator at floor 11 going down to the street. We stopped on floor seven. A man got on, clearly crazy. The following exchange occurred:
Man: Hey Sparky!
Faetra: What?
Man: You're dressed for snow!
(Faetra looks down at her skirt and t-shirt, trying to tactfully question the man's sanity)
Faetra: What?
Man: I like your shoes!
Faetra: Um...thank you...
Man: I'm wearing slipper to work today!
(Faetra looks down to find the man is actually wearing slippers to work. The elevator stops on the ground floor. They get off in silence)
Yeah, I know. Crazy. THEN ON FRIDAY:
Faetra gets on the elevator at the ground floor. A meek nondescript delivery man gets on the elevator with her. He presses floor 9. She presses floor 11. They ride the elevator up in silence. It stops on the 9th floor. The doors open
Man: You have very lovely feet.
The man exits the elevator. End scene
Everything comes in threes. What will happen this week? And is the fact that all of these creepy incidents are occurring in elevators a coincidence? Or is it some kind of conspiracy?
Only time will tell.
My job is so boring.
This past week at work my opposition to elevators took an interesting twist. This is what happened. Last Thursday I got on the elevator at floor 11 going down to the street. We stopped on floor seven. A man got on, clearly crazy. The following exchange occurred:
Man: Hey Sparky!
Faetra: What?
Man: You're dressed for snow!
(Faetra looks down at her skirt and t-shirt, trying to tactfully question the man's sanity)
Faetra: What?
Man: I like your shoes!
Faetra: Um...thank you...
Man: I'm wearing slipper to work today!
(Faetra looks down to find the man is actually wearing slippers to work. The elevator stops on the ground floor. They get off in silence)
Yeah, I know. Crazy. THEN ON FRIDAY:
Faetra gets on the elevator at the ground floor. A meek nondescript delivery man gets on the elevator with her. He presses floor 9. She presses floor 11. They ride the elevator up in silence. It stops on the 9th floor. The doors open
Man: You have very lovely feet.
The man exits the elevator. End scene
Everything comes in threes. What will happen this week? And is the fact that all of these creepy incidents are occurring in elevators a coincidence? Or is it some kind of conspiracy?
Only time will tell.
My job is so boring.
Monday Public Service Announcement
Dolphins are the only species other than human beings who are capable of the act of rape. It turns out that dolphins emit a kind of hormone and use certain behavior tactics to denote if sex is consensual. This is not uncommon among animals. The difference is that dolphins will frequently disregard "no means no" signals. Male dolphins rape frequently.
Take a good look at this face:
Consider yourself warned.
Take a good look at this face:
Consider yourself warned.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
A Morning In The Life
9:00 AM: I stumble out of bed. Every fifteen minutes for the past hour and a half or so, I have hit the snooze button. Setting my alarm for 7:30 AM has proved to be nothing but complete folly. Do I need to brush my hair before work? No... Do I need to make lunch or can I just run to the deli again? Run to the deli... Do I need to have the delectable Oren's coffee all the way on 3rd Ave or can I just pop into the Starbucks downstairs? Pop into the Starbucks downstairs... This is my inner monologue as a lay in bed. Potter meows for his food. Alas, the day must begin
9:40 AM: Waiting for the train. The most interesting part of my day is waiting to see which train will come first, the R or the V. "I need a new job," I decide. The R is great and quick- the V is my mortal enemy. I can generally predict the mood of the day depending on which train comes first. This week has been all Vs. Which means three things to my morning commute: A) One extra stop before the 6 transfer B) The incredibly long escalator taking me from the E/V line to the 6 at 53rd street. Seriously, how far underground is this train? Think the distance from hell to heaven. Yeah, that's about accurate. C)That weird smell in the passage way right before the second escalator to the 6 train. Seriously, what is that smell and why is it always there? Yep, it's going to be a V train kind of morning.
10:15 AM: I stumble into work. I sit down. The dread of a mediocre existence sets in."I really need a new job," I tell myself
10:17 AM: I crack open my Arizona energy drink. Bill went on an experimental "Red Bull Alternative" buying phase on Saturday and I am right along with him. This is far better than the green tea energy experiment from yesterday, but still tastes like sugary balls liquefied. Mmmmm....
10:19 AM: I begin to tell Joel, Dana, and Sandra about the harrowing experience of Little Children last night. This is what I took from it:
I wanted to put a shot of just his perfect ass but this will have to do as I am afraid of googling what could be discovered as pornography on my work PC. Also, Kate Winslet while stunningly beautiful and a fantastic actress as very strange looking breasts. It's an aureole thing I think. I don't know. God doesn't give you everything.
10:20: I explain that the situation of Kate Winslet's aureoles and Patrick Wilson's ass was not all I took from the film. It was well done, and just like In the Bedroom gives you a choked up feeling never really resulting in a cathartic release because you're so worried about who's gonna be the one die. Instead, you leave the movie feeling despair. Over what you ask? Everything. Life, love, marriage, sex, children, puppies, playgrounds...it's all tragic. Nothing is safe.
10:30: I call a friend of my father's who works for "Law and Order" who wants to give me a job. He gets my cell number and we will talk about this later. "Am I really going to quit my job?" I ask myself.
11:15 AM: Turns out that Arizona energy drinks don't stop giving. Energy, yes. But also a taste in your mouth akin to drinking a bottle of bad champagne. Without the pleasant drunken side effect.
11:30: I realize I've been drinking a lot lately
11:31: And going through this bizarre yogurt covered pretzel phase.
12PM: Kate and I chat on myspace. She hates her job too.
1PM: I hate my job even more now.
2PM: Cigarette break.
9:40 AM: Waiting for the train. The most interesting part of my day is waiting to see which train will come first, the R or the V. "I need a new job," I decide. The R is great and quick- the V is my mortal enemy. I can generally predict the mood of the day depending on which train comes first. This week has been all Vs. Which means three things to my morning commute: A) One extra stop before the 6 transfer B) The incredibly long escalator taking me from the E/V line to the 6 at 53rd street. Seriously, how far underground is this train? Think the distance from hell to heaven. Yeah, that's about accurate. C)That weird smell in the passage way right before the second escalator to the 6 train. Seriously, what is that smell and why is it always there? Yep, it's going to be a V train kind of morning.
10:15 AM: I stumble into work. I sit down. The dread of a mediocre existence sets in."I really need a new job," I tell myself
10:17 AM: I crack open my Arizona energy drink. Bill went on an experimental "Red Bull Alternative" buying phase on Saturday and I am right along with him. This is far better than the green tea energy experiment from yesterday, but still tastes like sugary balls liquefied. Mmmmm....
10:19 AM: I begin to tell Joel, Dana, and Sandra about the harrowing experience of Little Children last night. This is what I took from it:
I wanted to put a shot of just his perfect ass but this will have to do as I am afraid of googling what could be discovered as pornography on my work PC. Also, Kate Winslet while stunningly beautiful and a fantastic actress as very strange looking breasts. It's an aureole thing I think. I don't know. God doesn't give you everything.
10:20: I explain that the situation of Kate Winslet's aureoles and Patrick Wilson's ass was not all I took from the film. It was well done, and just like In the Bedroom gives you a choked up feeling never really resulting in a cathartic release because you're so worried about who's gonna be the one die. Instead, you leave the movie feeling despair. Over what you ask? Everything. Life, love, marriage, sex, children, puppies, playgrounds...it's all tragic. Nothing is safe.
10:30: I call a friend of my father's who works for "Law and Order" who wants to give me a job. He gets my cell number and we will talk about this later. "Am I really going to quit my job?" I ask myself.
11:15 AM: Turns out that Arizona energy drinks don't stop giving. Energy, yes. But also a taste in your mouth akin to drinking a bottle of bad champagne. Without the pleasant drunken side effect.
11:30: I realize I've been drinking a lot lately
11:31: And going through this bizarre yogurt covered pretzel phase.
12PM: Kate and I chat on myspace. She hates her job too.
1PM: I hate my job even more now.
2PM: Cigarette break.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Sunday Night
For those who have never experienced the fabulousness of PIT, it is a stock trade version of "Go Fish". It comes with a bell, which upon victory you are allowed to furiously ring. The goal is to get all of the same natural resource.
It's great. And I own it.
So on Sunday night, Maura and will be organizing a long overdue PIT night at my place. Beer will be provided, as will pasta, bread, and salad.
Just as a warning for anyone that has never played games with me before. I'm an Aries. I play to win. It's nothing personal.
But seriously it's fun! Come over!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
The Queen Would Never Eat That Many Cookies
Yesterday I had to go to a memorial service for a good friend of mine that died a year ago. I can't believe a year has passed. I can't believe how much has changed over the course of one year. I can't believe how one year could have honestly been so shitty.
What was even stranger was going back and seeing some people I haven't seen since this time last year, and watching the way they mourn. Or rather, how they expect other people to mourn. I honestly found myself standing there, unable to muster up the smallest amount of emotion, saying to myself just cry, just cry, just cry . Why is that? Because I felt I was being judged based on my need to move on past the whole thing.
They also kept referring to his suicide as a "tragic accident". I wanted to just stand up and scream, "It wasn't an accident! He chose it!". I don't know, maybe I'm the one out of line here. Maybe I don't understand things the way I thought I did. It may be cold, but my perspective on this situation has changed from what it was last year. I love him. I miss him. I cry sometimes. Like when I think I see him on the train. But we have to say goodbye. We don't need a memorial every year to remind us that he was once a part of our lives. Just like I don't need to be best friends with every person that's ever touched me in my life, I don't need to spend every waking moment carrying this "tragic accident" around on my sleeve. Nor should I be expected to on this fucking guilt trip his family likes to put everyone through. You show me where it's written in a law that I have to grieve in a certain way, and by all means I'll try and follow it.
Anyway, after this short, very warped memorial we all gathered for coffee and cake and such. I felt so awkward. And it just so happened I was standing next to a giant plate of cookies. And it just so happened that instead of making awkward conversation with one of his family members, I decided to systematically eat an entire plate of cookies. Yep, that's right...I'd say like fifteen total. I hadn't eaten anything all morning because I was so nervous. I was terrified I was going to have some sort of breakdown of Scarlet O'Hara like proportions. Instead, when I felt nothing, I decided it was time that I eat an entire plate of cookies. No one noticed thank god, but I had to laugh thinking that if Scott had been there, he would have been the one standing in the corner with me eating all the cookies.
And suddenly at moments like that everything is OK. Mostly because there's cookies. But also because the world moves- and when we get over all of our selfish dramatic shit- we realize how easily we can move with it. I had a situation last week involving a good friend of mine where I realized how easily we can choose to feel angry or selfish instead of being a big person. True to my impulsive nature, I of course chose to go with the angry/selfish side because freighting enough, this is the automatic place I go when I feel uncomfortable. I push being mature away because it's just easier that way. It's my mother in me, I guess. But I don't want to be that person. I'm trying not to be. I'm sick of thinking that my first priority must always be to protect myself. From what? That's the thing...I don't know. People suck and they hurt people. I've sucked and I've hurt people. And I probably will again. It just happens. You cry about it, you learn a lesson, and then you move on. When I got into a fight with a friend of mine recently I said something to the effect of, "It seems like you just have a lot to figure out about yourself and the way you want to be" And he responded saying, "So does everyone else. We're always going to have stuff to figure out". Well here's to figuring it out, little by little. And here's to forgiveness.
I think I finally forgave Scott yesterday. I don't know if he needed it, but I needed to give it to him. And it continues to surprise me how easy it is to love people as opposed to hating them.
So there's my sappy self-realization for this week. Next week...I tackle the problem of evil and global warming.
When in doubt, cookies always help.
What was even stranger was going back and seeing some people I haven't seen since this time last year, and watching the way they mourn. Or rather, how they expect other people to mourn. I honestly found myself standing there, unable to muster up the smallest amount of emotion, saying to myself just cry, just cry, just cry . Why is that? Because I felt I was being judged based on my need to move on past the whole thing.
They also kept referring to his suicide as a "tragic accident". I wanted to just stand up and scream, "It wasn't an accident! He chose it!". I don't know, maybe I'm the one out of line here. Maybe I don't understand things the way I thought I did. It may be cold, but my perspective on this situation has changed from what it was last year. I love him. I miss him. I cry sometimes. Like when I think I see him on the train. But we have to say goodbye. We don't need a memorial every year to remind us that he was once a part of our lives. Just like I don't need to be best friends with every person that's ever touched me in my life, I don't need to spend every waking moment carrying this "tragic accident" around on my sleeve. Nor should I be expected to on this fucking guilt trip his family likes to put everyone through. You show me where it's written in a law that I have to grieve in a certain way, and by all means I'll try and follow it.
Anyway, after this short, very warped memorial we all gathered for coffee and cake and such. I felt so awkward. And it just so happened I was standing next to a giant plate of cookies. And it just so happened that instead of making awkward conversation with one of his family members, I decided to systematically eat an entire plate of cookies. Yep, that's right...I'd say like fifteen total. I hadn't eaten anything all morning because I was so nervous. I was terrified I was going to have some sort of breakdown of Scarlet O'Hara like proportions. Instead, when I felt nothing, I decided it was time that I eat an entire plate of cookies. No one noticed thank god, but I had to laugh thinking that if Scott had been there, he would have been the one standing in the corner with me eating all the cookies.
And suddenly at moments like that everything is OK. Mostly because there's cookies. But also because the world moves- and when we get over all of our selfish dramatic shit- we realize how easily we can move with it. I had a situation last week involving a good friend of mine where I realized how easily we can choose to feel angry or selfish instead of being a big person. True to my impulsive nature, I of course chose to go with the angry/selfish side because freighting enough, this is the automatic place I go when I feel uncomfortable. I push being mature away because it's just easier that way. It's my mother in me, I guess. But I don't want to be that person. I'm trying not to be. I'm sick of thinking that my first priority must always be to protect myself. From what? That's the thing...I don't know. People suck and they hurt people. I've sucked and I've hurt people. And I probably will again. It just happens. You cry about it, you learn a lesson, and then you move on. When I got into a fight with a friend of mine recently I said something to the effect of, "It seems like you just have a lot to figure out about yourself and the way you want to be" And he responded saying, "So does everyone else. We're always going to have stuff to figure out". Well here's to figuring it out, little by little. And here's to forgiveness.
I think I finally forgave Scott yesterday. I don't know if he needed it, but I needed to give it to him. And it continues to surprise me how easy it is to love people as opposed to hating them.
So there's my sappy self-realization for this week. Next week...I tackle the problem of evil and global warming.
When in doubt, cookies always help.
The Queen
On Sunday night Maura and I saw the The Queen over at Lincoln Plaza Cinemas. Wow, what a great movie. Totally not what I was expecting. From the trailer, I got the impression it was A) going to be more about Princess Diana and her relationship with the royal family or B) going to be a ripping apart of the monarchy. Not the case. The film instead seemed to focus on a examining the important question of tradition vs. modernity. It seemed like this was an examination of one of the last generation gap struggles we might have for awhile. Coming from a completely different governmental system, it is difficult to comprehend what was at stake for the royal family during the time of Princess Diana's death. It's crazy that in simply flying a flag at half mast, the Queen transcended hundreds of years of tradition. What a call to make.
What's also crazy is seeing, again, first hand what an icon Princess Di was for the people of England. I don't think since JFK has our country had an icon like that. Our generation, certainly not. Why is that? Is it because of our media's tendency to expose anyone coming close to iconic status's every single flaw? Or is it because no one wants that pressure? Who knows.
One of the greatest parts of the film was at the very end when Tony Blair comes back to the royal palace to have his first post-Princess Di crisis meeting with the Queen and she says to him something to the effect of, "You'd be surprised how quickly the public can turn on you...and the time will come when this will happen to you, Mr. Blair." It's funny how quickly things can change. Blair was going to be England's hero- the one to outrun the stifling presence of the monarchy, the modern man, the good every day kind of guy...cut to now, only ten years later and a majority of the London population does not support him or his actions in dealing with the situation in Iraq. It is surprising how quickly the public can turn. What's even more surprising is how quickly values can be compromised.
Anyway, that's enough of the Queen. Go see it if you have a chance. Helen Mirren will hopefully come off with at least an Oscar nod. She's chilling. And a dame to boot.
Sunday, October 1, 2006
And Let the Top 10 Best Episodes of South Park Play On...
So, here is that blog...
Some randomness. I had a sex dream about Leonardo DiCaprio last night. Weird. I never was a big fan of his, honestly. I only saw Titanic like three times!
I better news I wasted thirty minutes of my life yesterday in the supermarket reading what appeared to be the last "Baby Suri" Vanity Fair article about just how creepy TomKat is. I can't wait for them to make their creepy lives into a feature film in twenty years which ends with Katie Holmes either turning into Princess Diana or Joan Rivers.
And speaking of Princess Diana there is a movie coming out about her number one fan...that's right...none other than the queen herself. It looks spectacular. So did ever other trailer before Science of Sleep. It's going to be a busy winter. Lots of movies...may try to make it over to London to see Patrick Swayze in Guys and Dolls. No, that's not a joke...Patrick Swayze is still alive, and someone thought this would be a wise choice for him. Maybe after this London will stop stealing all our actors.
That's it.
I don't think I can talk about my life right now. I mean what is my life in comparison with Baby Suri's, really....
Some randomness. I had a sex dream about Leonardo DiCaprio last night. Weird. I never was a big fan of his, honestly. I only saw Titanic like three times!
I better news I wasted thirty minutes of my life yesterday in the supermarket reading what appeared to be the last "Baby Suri" Vanity Fair article about just how creepy TomKat is. I can't wait for them to make their creepy lives into a feature film in twenty years which ends with Katie Holmes either turning into Princess Diana or Joan Rivers.
And speaking of Princess Diana there is a movie coming out about her number one fan...that's right...none other than the queen herself. It looks spectacular. So did ever other trailer before Science of Sleep. It's going to be a busy winter. Lots of movies...may try to make it over to London to see Patrick Swayze in Guys and Dolls. No, that's not a joke...Patrick Swayze is still alive, and someone thought this would be a wise choice for him. Maybe after this London will stop stealing all our actors.
That's it.
I don't think I can talk about my life right now. I mean what is my life in comparison with Baby Suri's, really....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)