I decided to re-read my first post today. I wanted to see how far I have come in 8 weeks, every good experiment must be evaluated after all! I barely recognize the lonely, dejected woman who set out to craft a new life for herself. The tortuous minutia of struggling through the workday and coming home to watch my shows with no real future in sight was robbing me of myself, turning me into someone else. I feel at peace now, excited about the future, but also happy in the moment. I think it's worth mentioning another beautiful phenomenon, as I have added to my life money has decreased it's staring role in it. Yes I still budget and manage it, but I no long feel the need to talk about it much or even to think about it often. God provides everything I need, and as I have said before; money in and of itself is dreadfully boring! I wrote that I wanted to craft a life of friendship, adventure and passion, and to figure out what direction to steer my future. I set six weekly goals for myself to this end: One new recipe, daily workouts, one dinner party or social outing, one piece of writing, one new New York experience and one new friendship.
Recipes: Fat Free Canoli's, Chinese Broccoli, Home-made Pasta, Grilled Cheese and Pear, Pulled-Pork, Bun Bowl, Quiche, Risotto
These may not seem very impressive, most of them were fairly simple to make, but they all were an adventure. Challenging myself to create something new, not for someone else, but for the sheer pleasure of it added adventure to my life. Searching the neighborhoods of Manhattan for just the right ingredients, looking for inspiration at every turn, enjoying the successes and the unbelievable disasters, this is a simple excitement born out of my passion added color to my weeks.
Workouts: Spinning 2x per week, Pilates 1x per week, Hiking weekends, various 2x per week
It seems so vain and trivial, but pushing myself to try spinning has made me feel so strong and beautiful! Those pesky pounds have melted away, and I still eat without guilt but with balance. I feel amazing.
Dinner Parties/ Social: Drinks with Kaitlin and Gussie, 3 EWI cooking events, 1 EWI restaurant event, Visiting Jo and meeting her girlfriends, Marisa's wedding and party, dinner with Jill
I have been out with friends at least once a week, the best part being that each was fun, exactly what I wanted. I did not go out clubbing or partying, but sharing laughter and food and conversation. It has become a natural part of my life. I make an effort to see people and clearly that was all I needed to do. Learning to stop waiting for things to happen and making them happen has transformed my life. I am not lonely. I have friends all over the country and that's ok! I can find ways to see them and stay connected, and though not as close, my friends in New York add comfort and richness to my everyday life. Starting Eating with Impunity has empowered me to bring people together in an entirely different way. To introduce a group of 20 strangers and have them become friends is something I never thought I was capable of.
Writing: The Blog
Twenty-some odd posts later and the inane details of my life have become a story. Some funny, some profound, some simple. I am becoming a true writer and the author of my own life.
New York: Hell's Kitchen Flea Market, Chinatown, West Village specialty markets, Rowing on the Hudson, Brooklyn Book Festival, Brooklyn Tabernacle Baptist, Murray Hill Specialty Market, Dinner in Queens
Exploring my city has made it all the more enchanting. I don't need to be rich to experience the unique flavors of the many neighborhoods, and I don't have to be at the hottest clubs or newest plays for it to be totally New York! This city is different for everyone and I have found My New York. The New York of vintage hunting, unique cuisines and disastrous outdoor sports! I don't have to be anyone but myself and I don't have to force myself to try.
Social Connections: EWI group, new NYU members, Jo's girls, M.'s girls, re-connection with old friends
I have not made any new best friends, but I have met some amazing people. I am connecting with fellow foodies, reconnecting with old friends and seeing how rich life can be when you accept people for who they are. I enjoyed the crazy night with the suburban housewives in Denver, I loved the Army wives of Tennessee, I feel an instant connection to the girls I met at NYU and my EWI group is becoming like a little family. Each person in my life is different, but they are all characters, some funny, some sad all part of a great story.
What to do with myself: ??? : )
I am starting a new job, not career, job. The VA is going to allow me the opportunity to help people and the time to help myself! My applications have been sent to NYU's Food Studies and to half of the law schools. I am thinking that I will start at NYU in the spring (if I get in!) and when I hear back from the law schools, decide whether to continue with food studies or go for a law degree. For a short time I will be able to have it all! I am taking my FSO exam next week as well. I have so many choices ahead of me and I don't think a single one is wrong. I am going to follow my heart in making my decisions and continue to construct the elements I need in my life. I don't need a career to give me everything, it is only one piece of the grand life I am creating.
For the first time I feel peaceful, happy and at home. I thought at first that it was New York, a place to call home. As I sent my applications off to UCLA and USC and heard D.'s mother talk about production opportunities out west, I felt nothing but a quiet excitement. No panic, no regret. I love New York and I always will, but the home I have found is not geographical, it is something inside of me. I feel for the first time in my life that no matter where my adventures take me, the friendship and excitement and comfort of home will follow, everything will be ok. Perhaps I have been home all along, needing only to find myself to realize it.
D.'s plane is landing at JFK any minute now, what will happen now? My prayer is that even together I can stay close to home, not get lost in his dreams. My prayer is that our dreams will compliment each others, simply adding flavor. My prayer is that my adventure can be our adventure, that our friendship and love is big enough for the big ideas we both have. What will it look like though? I suppose that will be the next great experiment of my life. I have taken hold of my own life and created something beautiful, now it is time to try and double it. The adventures of D and Fi...hmm, has a nice ring to it.....
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Everything I Ever Wanted
I am happy. Tipsy, albeit, but happy! I have good friends from the past and a growing group of new ones. I have a good job to look forward to, school opportunities are working out like little miracles and I am totally at peace with the future possibilities. There are no guarantees, nothing set in stone, but it all feels like it is coming together. Like everything is going to be ok. Better than ok, incredible.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Hypocrisy Disclaimer
After writing today, and going to church earlier, I decided that I should write a hypocrisy disclaimer in case anyone actually reads this. Now, in this blog, or any of my writing really, I talk about life. I talk about food and sex and God, and all with a very dirty mouth! Some might find this strange or hypocritical, but really I find writers who pretend to be choir girls when telling the stories of life to be either naive or fake.
I just finished reading Bon Appetit by Sandra Byrd. She is lucky she tells a good story, because her main character Lexi made me want to barf. (Barf being a prophetic literary term, of course!) It was as though she had to paint the world in primary colors and make everything G rated simply because she spoke about God in the novel. I found Lexi to be either fake or naive, as I already stated. God is not tucked away in the Disney Land section of my life (as if I would actual have one!). He was there when I smoked pot, here when I am being a bitchy tart and will be right by my side the next time I do something unsavory. All that is to say, I am a real person, I write about real life and real life is not divided into chapels and strip clubs. It is all me, and perhaps my stories can show that spirituality and reality are not mutually exclusive.
I just finished reading Bon Appetit by Sandra Byrd. She is lucky she tells a good story, because her main character Lexi made me want to barf. (Barf being a prophetic literary term, of course!) It was as though she had to paint the world in primary colors and make everything G rated simply because she spoke about God in the novel. I found Lexi to be either fake or naive, as I already stated. God is not tucked away in the Disney Land section of my life (as if I would actual have one!). He was there when I smoked pot, here when I am being a bitchy tart and will be right by my side the next time I do something unsavory. All that is to say, I am a real person, I write about real life and real life is not divided into chapels and strip clubs. It is all me, and perhaps my stories can show that spirituality and reality are not mutually exclusive.
God's Sous Chef
I traveled to Brooklyn this morning to check-out the Brooklyn Tabernacle. I have been craving the soulful gospel music and passion I found in the Southern Baptist churches of the south, and the closest I could come-up with here were in Harlem and Brooklyn. Brooklyn is actually closer. As I entered the mega-theatre of the sanctuary I knew that this was not the small, soulful parish I remembered, but the electricity was there.
It was different, not the warm embrace of culture I had become accustom to, but this is not the south, this is New York. I was inspired by the message and I realized one benefit of the mega-church was their ability to have a far-reaching impact, funded by the several thousand members. As the minister spoke about his experiences feeding the children in Haiti and Guam , I had an idea. Perhaps the meaningful aspect of my life can come through an extracurricular spice. I don't have to join the peace corps to touch people's lives. If I want to go and meet and help people, perhaps this megalith of a church would be my way.
The reverend also spoke about Jesus's disciple Peter. Peter was passionate and brash and a hot mess much of the time, but he was also a great leader. I don't have to be perfect to be great. It seems that my passion may be enough. Just being who I am may be enough.
I also had a revelation: It does not matter what I do, I am still going to be me. Everything changes, everything can be taken away, but I am still going to be me. The job I choose has no bearing on who I am going to be in my life, there is no right or wrong choice. I heard Him whisper in my ear: pick whatever you like, your life will be beautiful no matter what.
My choices and experiences lie before me, like the beautiful fish at Lobster Place and the shining produce at Gourmet Garage and the fresh baguettes at the bakery. As I pick-out my groceries I am beginning to see a recipe come together.
I feel God walking with his arm around me, picking-up things to show me like we are old lovers or friends. I tried to ask him for a list, but he seems to be shaking his head and laughing. It is for me to choose. He runs the kitchen and can make something amazing with anything I bring home, but He did not make me line cook, merely taking orders, I am his Sous Chef. I am the artist of my own life and He refuses to take that away.
Do what you like. I am still not clear as to what that is exactly, but I am beginning to see that a life as full as the one I dream of does not have a simple formula. I simply need to continue adding elements, directed by my passion and my heart, and when the right combination comes together I will have a life that I can savor, a life that will leave me full and satisfied.
It was different, not the warm embrace of culture I had become accustom to, but this is not the south, this is New York. I was inspired by the message and I realized one benefit of the mega-church was their ability to have a far-reaching impact, funded by the several thousand members. As the minister spoke about his experiences feeding the children in Haiti and Guam , I had an idea. Perhaps the meaningful aspect of my life can come through an extracurricular spice. I don't have to join the peace corps to touch people's lives. If I want to go and meet and help people, perhaps this megalith of a church would be my way.
The reverend also spoke about Jesus's disciple Peter. Peter was passionate and brash and a hot mess much of the time, but he was also a great leader. I don't have to be perfect to be great. It seems that my passion may be enough. Just being who I am may be enough.
I also had a revelation: It does not matter what I do, I am still going to be me. Everything changes, everything can be taken away, but I am still going to be me. The job I choose has no bearing on who I am going to be in my life, there is no right or wrong choice. I heard Him whisper in my ear: pick whatever you like, your life will be beautiful no matter what.
My choices and experiences lie before me, like the beautiful fish at Lobster Place and the shining produce at Gourmet Garage and the fresh baguettes at the bakery. As I pick-out my groceries I am beginning to see a recipe come together.
I feel God walking with his arm around me, picking-up things to show me like we are old lovers or friends. I tried to ask him for a list, but he seems to be shaking his head and laughing. It is for me to choose. He runs the kitchen and can make something amazing with anything I bring home, but He did not make me line cook, merely taking orders, I am his Sous Chef. I am the artist of my own life and He refuses to take that away.
Do what you like. I am still not clear as to what that is exactly, but I am beginning to see that a life as full as the one I dream of does not have a simple formula. I simply need to continue adding elements, directed by my passion and my heart, and when the right combination comes together I will have a life that I can savor, a life that will leave me full and satisfied.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Savor
Tonight I decided make green pea soup with baguette for dinner. I had been housebound all day, tired and studying for the Foreign Service Officer's exam (yes, yet another scheme for the future).
I set-out to the store, knowing the bodega down stairs would not have leeks, I started walking toward the supermarket. On my way I remembered a little gourmet shop with a beautiful produce display out front. Surprisingly, I had never taken the time to go in. I approached the shop and found the leeks right away, the green peas were no where to be found. I sighed and thought about going to the supermarket. "Forget that, stop being so American!" I thought. It is not all about the one-stop shopping.
I found all the lovely produce I needed for my soup, some tomatoes for tomorrow's bruchetta and the most sweetly scented basil I have ever inhaled. The bread was unimpressive, so I decided to stop at the bakery on the way home, perhaps the bodega would have my peas. I found everything I needed and it was such a pleasure buying the best from each who specialized in it. Produce from the gourmand, bread from the baker and soda from the corner store!
I returned home and began preparing my soup. I recalled the one weak point in the dish being the difficulty in adding enough spice to it. I always feel as though I am adding an inordinate amount of salt and pepper. I decided to step it up. I added black sea salt with herbs de Provence, then I seeded a Thai pepper to slip in toward the end of cooking. I also decided that rather than baguette, I would make my Parmesan garlic toast for tomorrow and use them as croutons for the soup. The result was a symphony of flavors. They were simple and harmonious and bold. Perhaps that is what my life is shaping up to be.
Perhaps I am not going to find a "one-stop shop" life, a career that fulfills all my passions in one shot. Perhaps I am silly for thinking all the life inside of me can be taken care of with a job. I am not saying that I am going to keep working as an office assistant, no, but I should realize that the answer to crafting the perfect life does not lie in a career alone. When looking at my potential paths I suppose I must ask myself if they are to be foundations, like the potatoes, merely facilitating my life (lawyering), like the Thai chili- adding the intensity of flavor, but not the substance (Food Studies), the peas-steering the dish (Foreign Service Officer) or some combination of the three- coming together with all the other pleasures of friends and adventures to create something amazing.
I don't know what tomorrow brings anymore than I knew I was going to have a craving for green pea soup, but I do think that the clarity and inspiration that will guide my future will be as easy as adding flavor to a dish I know so well. I just need to stop trying to rush back to my empty apartment and savor the adventure of choosing my ingredients. That is what the experiment is about, forcing myself to build the life I want and stop living the bland life I kept microwaving for myself.
The end of week 7 is approaching, and my final week of solitary self exploration is here. D comes home one week from today. I am excited to see him and anxious to see how the experiment of my life is affected by his presence. I don't think I will slip back into my hermit ways when I am again coming home to him. I was less social this week than in weeks past, but I have still come along way compared to seven weeks ago. I think it is time to reevaluate anyways, time to step it up. Perhaps his return will not be the end of the experiment, but the beginning of a new one.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Holy Shit It's Humpday of Week 7
Wow, time does fly! Every year it seems to go faster and faster. It scares me. I have always been so fearless and I think that came from the beautiful youthful freedom of believing in your own immortality. I'm not so sure about that anymore! Anyways, it's humpday and I am trying to get caught-up, trying to get the birds-eye view of my week. It helps my concentration having my boss on a cross-country flight to Alaska!
Well, I have done nothing but go home and sit on my ass so far this week. Hey, thank goodness it's only Wednesday! I have been working-out religiously, I have an EWI event planned for Sunday, I am writing right now, I need to work on my food studies personal statement. I need to figure out my recipe of the week, NYC experience and try to do something social. Looking at my calendar I have quite a bit of sitting-on-my-ass time scheduled. I guess that is good for working on my projects, but I am afraid of falling into old habits.
Hopefully, this week I will find out what the next step is for the VA job. I am not totally sold on it. It is better hours, a bit better pay, and a better title. What's not to like, right? I suppose I have gotten comfortable here. My job is silly and frustrating, but I have a few friends and some days are good. I guess I also don't want to feel bad when I quit to go to school. I would feel like a jerk if I took the job and then quit a few months later to go to NYU. What am I saying though, I did take the job. They offered, I tentatively accepted, now I need to start the pre-employment process. Nothing is easy or fast with the government! I am going to do what I always do, flog my fear by diving in headfirst. It is much easier for me than indulging the whiner within, the one clinging to the familiar. I do hope I can allow myself to cling to the familiar someday. To have a place to call home, a place where people know me and love me and are not going to be deployed or moved away from me on a two year rotation. Until then, I am going to cling to my other nature: brazen adventure and change.
Well, the day is young, we'll see what I can come-up with for the rest of the week.
Well, I have done nothing but go home and sit on my ass so far this week. Hey, thank goodness it's only Wednesday! I have been working-out religiously, I have an EWI event planned for Sunday, I am writing right now, I need to work on my food studies personal statement. I need to figure out my recipe of the week, NYC experience and try to do something social. Looking at my calendar I have quite a bit of sitting-on-my-ass time scheduled. I guess that is good for working on my projects, but I am afraid of falling into old habits.
Hopefully, this week I will find out what the next step is for the VA job. I am not totally sold on it. It is better hours, a bit better pay, and a better title. What's not to like, right? I suppose I have gotten comfortable here. My job is silly and frustrating, but I have a few friends and some days are good. I guess I also don't want to feel bad when I quit to go to school. I would feel like a jerk if I took the job and then quit a few months later to go to NYU. What am I saying though, I did take the job. They offered, I tentatively accepted, now I need to start the pre-employment process. Nothing is easy or fast with the government! I am going to do what I always do, flog my fear by diving in headfirst. It is much easier for me than indulging the whiner within, the one clinging to the familiar. I do hope I can allow myself to cling to the familiar someday. To have a place to call home, a place where people know me and love me and are not going to be deployed or moved away from me on a two year rotation. Until then, I am going to cling to my other nature: brazen adventure and change.
Well, the day is young, we'll see what I can come-up with for the rest of the week.
Catching-up part 2: Pulled Pork and Purpose
After the Wedding I was able to relax and I turned my attention to a passion of mine: Pulled-Pork. I am not a big meat-eater, but my life was changed when I first tasted real pit BBQ. Armed with my mother's smoker and instructions from Alton Brown, I embarked on the ultimate challenge: recreating that amazing flavor and texture. The details of this adventure will be chronicled in The Pork Saga.
I flew home utterly exhausted from the back-to-back trips to TN and CO, unready for the demands I knew waited for me at home. When I stepped off the subway, into my city, onto my block, all the anxiety melted away. I was home and it felt so good! This city is overwhelming in theory, in thought, in idea. But face to face, it is the most peaceful place I have ever been, the safest I have ever felt, the least lonely.
The four day week I came into was brutal! There was a huge proposal to go out, the girl whose job it is to deal with marketing called out sick the entire week prior, it was long hours and thankless work. As far as my goals of the week: I was too exhausted and behind to write, I did work-out like a mad-woman, I had drinks with G., went to Chinatown again and to Brooklyn, made Vietnamese Bun Bowl, created a googlegroup page for the food club, finished my law school applications and began my NYU food studies application. Oh, and the VA offered me a job.
It may sound like a wild week, but really I stayed in the house 90% of the time. I felt sad, like I was retreating back into myself, but I was really busy and looking back, really tired! The east village was beautiful, the shop owners helpful and the Bun bowl very very good! I felt so peaceful and content while exploring for new foods and finding familiar ones in a beautiful Whole Foods north of Chinatown. If it is actually ok for me to be happy, if it is not some sign of laziness that I love my job, then maybe I should go study food and history and spend my life learning about the things I love. Maybe. I plan on having all my applications mailed within a month, I will have taken my Foreign Service Officer's Exam and I suppose I will just have to wait. It will be interesting to see what my actual options are, rather than my theoretical ones! At least I have learned to enjoy the waiting, savor it. In fact, I think the greatest joy lies in the hope and excitement we feel while waiting.
I flew home utterly exhausted from the back-to-back trips to TN and CO, unready for the demands I knew waited for me at home. When I stepped off the subway, into my city, onto my block, all the anxiety melted away. I was home and it felt so good! This city is overwhelming in theory, in thought, in idea. But face to face, it is the most peaceful place I have ever been, the safest I have ever felt, the least lonely.
The four day week I came into was brutal! There was a huge proposal to go out, the girl whose job it is to deal with marketing called out sick the entire week prior, it was long hours and thankless work. As far as my goals of the week: I was too exhausted and behind to write, I did work-out like a mad-woman, I had drinks with G., went to Chinatown again and to Brooklyn, made Vietnamese Bun Bowl, created a googlegroup page for the food club, finished my law school applications and began my NYU food studies application. Oh, and the VA offered me a job.
It may sound like a wild week, but really I stayed in the house 90% of the time. I felt sad, like I was retreating back into myself, but I was really busy and looking back, really tired! The east village was beautiful, the shop owners helpful and the Bun bowl very very good! I felt so peaceful and content while exploring for new foods and finding familiar ones in a beautiful Whole Foods north of Chinatown. If it is actually ok for me to be happy, if it is not some sign of laziness that I love my job, then maybe I should go study food and history and spend my life learning about the things I love. Maybe. I plan on having all my applications mailed within a month, I will have taken my Foreign Service Officer's Exam and I suppose I will just have to wait. It will be interesting to see what my actual options are, rather than my theoretical ones! At least I have learned to enjoy the waiting, savor it. In fact, I think the greatest joy lies in the hope and excitement we feel while waiting.
Catching-up part 1: Suburban Bachlorette Party
Wow, I have been out of it for a couple weeks, but it feels like it has been ages. I journeyed out to Colorado for the long weekend and my oldest friend M.'s wedding, made my first pulled-pork, returned totally exhausted but with an eye toward NYU, registered for my FSO exam and was offered a new job, whew! I guess I should just start from the top, but I have found that stories can lose their punch as time passes. I seem to lose interest in them and move on, thus the importance of this silly blog for me. Last Wednesday I said "goodbye" to New York and hopped a plane to the Wild West.
I arrived, had lunch with my Dad and was off to the bachelorette party. I had a bad feeling, as I always do prior to going out with this particular friend, but I tried to push that feeling aside and look forward to the evening. The first issue was a call I had gotten the night before, sweetly informing me that I owed the hosts of the party $50 for the limo and incidentals. I was not amused. I had purchased the bridesmaid dress, shoes, plane ticket, and all of these with pleasure. I love being a bridesmaid. But to be required to pay for something I had no part in planning and with no warning, well that pissed me off from the get-go, reminding me that I was not dealing with other grown-ups, but the extended adolescence of girls who grew-up and stayed put in the suburbs.
That aside, we began our evening at an overpriced, under serviced Mexican restaurant. Why? I have no idea, I think there was a rumor about Everclear in the margaritas and our young party planner (M.'s sister) thought it would be cool to try and get everyone wasted from the start. We left the restaurant and hopped in the limo out front (not before being lambasted by the sister's friend for not having cash for them, whatever). The limo had fake stars in the ceiling where a moon roof should have been and they changed color every 30 seconds or so. The bar had champagne glasses with nothing to put in them but Bud Light or Smirnoff and Coke. Our first stop was lady's night at Stampede.
Yes, Stampede was exactly what it sounds like, only exaggerated. You see I was in Colorado, a place where a few real "cowboy's" do exists and where even more fakes roam. We walked in and were handed 5 free drink tickets each. Hmmmm, I wonder what our selections for the evening will be. We were there, apparently, to get M. to ride the bull. She was already drunk from the Mexican spot and was not even entertaining the idea. We all slid into a banquet and began watching the train-wreck of a line dance unfolding before us. This was the place for big hair, big women and no rhythm! At this point I began to panic. We were not scheduled to be dropped back off by the limo until 2:30am and I was done with it all at 9:30pm. I had a minor meltdown, realized the situation was hopeless and settled in to ride it out. The funny thing is, when you give-up and stop fighting, sometimes that opens you up to the possibility of having a good time.
I wouldn't say it was great after that, but it when from being tragic to being a comedy of errors! M. wanted to leave and as we were calling the limo two women approached our table. "Which one of ya'll's gettin murdered?" The blond one twanged at us. The suburban girls didn't understand and she clarified by saying "married". The scraggly blond then told M. to run for the hills. When the group collectively stood-up for her fiance, the hillbilly girls snickered stating that "Girrrrl, your friends wanna do your man! You better watch that!" They then proceeded to tell us that we must stop by The Electric Cowboy for further festivities.
I guess the thing that made this whole interaction all the more humorous was the party I was with. These are all suburban girls/women, most of whom are married or have kids. They also were collectively dressed like a posse of hookers. It is a strange phenomenon that you frequently see in the no-man's land outside the city limits. Anyways, these girls range from beautiful to average, but were all the pretty bitches in high school. If you can picture this group being accosted by two hillbilly girls at The Stampede, then I am sure you can picture the expression on their faces. The sheer confusion and horror was too much! I savored the hilarity through impressions of the reckneckettes and begging to be taken to the E'lectric Cowboy all night.
The next stop was an "old favorite", the middle-age-piano-bar-hangout known as Sing Sings. We carried M. down the stairs and found the place empty aside from a table of 10 in the front row cheering-on the piano player. M. was drunk, bitchy and not impressed. So, the planners ordered us a round of shots and we carried the bride back up the stairs. At this point I suggested we skip to the grand finally: the strip club. How bad could that be? On the way, I had fun making dirty jokes with the resident bad-girl of the suburban posse, and the idea of ending the "tour de bad clubs" was a huge relief.
As we drove out of downtown and into a warehouse-ish district, I had the familiar feeling that this was not going to turn-out as planned. We dragged ourselves out of the and were informed that male strippers only perform on the weekends, tonight, being a Wednesday, was all ladies. Defeated, the party planners said we should at least go in for a drink. Now, I have been to strip clubs before, they can be fun and even classy. This was not one of those strip clubs. This was where overweight, old, desperate strippers go to dry hump. It was as nasty as it sounds. The staff tried to be accommodating and eventually called M. up on a side stage for a lap dance. They had a male ex-stripper in house to perform for her. She sat on her chair with the glazed-over look of a lush while the flabby, over the hill, balding "stripper" did a really pathetic dance for her. It was almost sad, but after the night we had, it just seemed right. The evening continued with a bout of explosive diarieah (not me, thank God!) at the strip club followed by walking through the drive-through at Del Taco. There was drama getting to cars and getting home before our time ran-out with the limo at 2:30. It did end though, mercifully it ended at 3am on Thursday morning.
The next night was the rehearsal dinner, where M. got trashed again, relying on me to coordinate details for the wedding day until midnight, then the wedding on Friday. The ceremony was beautiful, the venue was beautiful, the reception was tortuous. By 9:30 on Friday night I was weddinged-out. It was great to be a part of such an important event, for such important people in my life, but it was also so good to be done with it! To Happy Endings!
I arrived, had lunch with my Dad and was off to the bachelorette party. I had a bad feeling, as I always do prior to going out with this particular friend, but I tried to push that feeling aside and look forward to the evening. The first issue was a call I had gotten the night before, sweetly informing me that I owed the hosts of the party $50 for the limo and incidentals. I was not amused. I had purchased the bridesmaid dress, shoes, plane ticket, and all of these with pleasure. I love being a bridesmaid. But to be required to pay for something I had no part in planning and with no warning, well that pissed me off from the get-go, reminding me that I was not dealing with other grown-ups, but the extended adolescence of girls who grew-up and stayed put in the suburbs.
That aside, we began our evening at an overpriced, under serviced Mexican restaurant. Why? I have no idea, I think there was a rumor about Everclear in the margaritas and our young party planner (M.'s sister) thought it would be cool to try and get everyone wasted from the start. We left the restaurant and hopped in the limo out front (not before being lambasted by the sister's friend for not having cash for them, whatever). The limo had fake stars in the ceiling where a moon roof should have been and they changed color every 30 seconds or so. The bar had champagne glasses with nothing to put in them but Bud Light or Smirnoff and Coke. Our first stop was lady's night at Stampede.
Yes, Stampede was exactly what it sounds like, only exaggerated. You see I was in Colorado, a place where a few real "cowboy's" do exists and where even more fakes roam. We walked in and were handed 5 free drink tickets each. Hmmmm, I wonder what our selections for the evening will be. We were there, apparently, to get M. to ride the bull. She was already drunk from the Mexican spot and was not even entertaining the idea. We all slid into a banquet and began watching the train-wreck of a line dance unfolding before us. This was the place for big hair, big women and no rhythm! At this point I began to panic. We were not scheduled to be dropped back off by the limo until 2:30am and I was done with it all at 9:30pm. I had a minor meltdown, realized the situation was hopeless and settled in to ride it out. The funny thing is, when you give-up and stop fighting, sometimes that opens you up to the possibility of having a good time.
I wouldn't say it was great after that, but it when from being tragic to being a comedy of errors! M. wanted to leave and as we were calling the limo two women approached our table. "Which one of ya'll's gettin murdered?" The blond one twanged at us. The suburban girls didn't understand and she clarified by saying "married". The scraggly blond then told M. to run for the hills. When the group collectively stood-up for her fiance, the hillbilly girls snickered stating that "Girrrrl, your friends wanna do your man! You better watch that!" They then proceeded to tell us that we must stop by The Electric Cowboy for further festivities.
I guess the thing that made this whole interaction all the more humorous was the party I was with. These are all suburban girls/women, most of whom are married or have kids. They also were collectively dressed like a posse of hookers. It is a strange phenomenon that you frequently see in the no-man's land outside the city limits. Anyways, these girls range from beautiful to average, but were all the pretty bitches in high school. If you can picture this group being accosted by two hillbilly girls at The Stampede, then I am sure you can picture the expression on their faces. The sheer confusion and horror was too much! I savored the hilarity through impressions of the reckneckettes and begging to be taken to the E'lectric Cowboy all night.
The next stop was an "old favorite", the middle-age-piano-bar-hangout known as Sing Sings. We carried M. down the stairs and found the place empty aside from a table of 10 in the front row cheering-on the piano player. M. was drunk, bitchy and not impressed. So, the planners ordered us a round of shots and we carried the bride back up the stairs. At this point I suggested we skip to the grand finally: the strip club. How bad could that be? On the way, I had fun making dirty jokes with the resident bad-girl of the suburban posse, and the idea of ending the "tour de bad clubs" was a huge relief.
As we drove out of downtown and into a warehouse-ish district, I had the familiar feeling that this was not going to turn-out as planned. We dragged ourselves out of the and were informed that male strippers only perform on the weekends, tonight, being a Wednesday, was all ladies. Defeated, the party planners said we should at least go in for a drink. Now, I have been to strip clubs before, they can be fun and even classy. This was not one of those strip clubs. This was where overweight, old, desperate strippers go to dry hump. It was as nasty as it sounds. The staff tried to be accommodating and eventually called M. up on a side stage for a lap dance. They had a male ex-stripper in house to perform for her. She sat on her chair with the glazed-over look of a lush while the flabby, over the hill, balding "stripper" did a really pathetic dance for her. It was almost sad, but after the night we had, it just seemed right. The evening continued with a bout of explosive diarieah (not me, thank God!) at the strip club followed by walking through the drive-through at Del Taco. There was drama getting to cars and getting home before our time ran-out with the limo at 2:30. It did end though, mercifully it ended at 3am on Thursday morning.
The next night was the rehearsal dinner, where M. got trashed again, relying on me to coordinate details for the wedding day until midnight, then the wedding on Friday. The ceremony was beautiful, the venue was beautiful, the reception was tortuous. By 9:30 on Friday night I was weddinged-out. It was great to be a part of such an important event, for such important people in my life, but it was also so good to be done with it! To Happy Endings!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Why are we here?
In my frantic quest for life I have been talking to God a lot. Unfortunately, I have not been able to quite my mind long enough to really listen. Today as I trudged home through the rain I began to question God and even shut-up long enough to listen. Through my questioning, I deduced that the answer to figuring out what to do with your life stems from the question, "why are we here in the first place"? The sole purpose we humans have in God's scheme is love. We are the only creatures with free-will and therefore the capacity to love.
I suppose it makes sense that the one obsession every human shares is the quest for love. The few who do not share these feelings are seen as monsters. We are made in God's likeness, so it stands to reason that He too would have an ingrained desire to create a creature capable of giving love to Him.
At this point, I begin to try to understand the ramifications of this concept, framing it in the only context I know: mine. What do I want from those I love? How do I extend this love to others? This is where I begin to slow down, burdened by my clearly inferior understanding. I suppose that I primarily want those I love to love me back and for them to be happy. When they hurt, I try to ease their pain and find a silver lining. I want others to love them as I do.
I love God, He wants me to be happy, He does not want me to worry because He's got everything under control, He is there to comfort me when thing go wrong and the joy He he puts in my heart shines on those around me. My purpose is to love him back, allow him to guide me through the life my heart has always longed for, and to let the joy that brings inspire and comfort those around me.
It seems too simple to be true. I feel that I am missing something. But this is what He whispered in my ear.
I also need to learn more about what love really is. I wish the purest love I felt was for my spouse, but I am not always unselfish or patient or kind to him. I wish I could say it was for my mother, but I selfishly lean on her for my own comfort. Or for my best friend, which is close to this love, but I still have selfish motives in my dreams for her. No, I think the purest love I have learned to express is for my baby brother. I only want him to be happy and safe. That simple. I don't expect or want anything from him other than the love I already know he has for me. Though this love is effortless for me to give to him, the idea of a God who feels this way about me is incomprehensible.
Perhaps as I come to accept this love and stop waiting to see what string is attached, I will begin to gain the courage to pursue my dreams. Perhaps when I learn to see God's face my own life will come into perspective.
I suppose it makes sense that the one obsession every human shares is the quest for love. The few who do not share these feelings are seen as monsters. We are made in God's likeness, so it stands to reason that He too would have an ingrained desire to create a creature capable of giving love to Him.
At this point, I begin to try to understand the ramifications of this concept, framing it in the only context I know: mine. What do I want from those I love? How do I extend this love to others? This is where I begin to slow down, burdened by my clearly inferior understanding. I suppose that I primarily want those I love to love me back and for them to be happy. When they hurt, I try to ease their pain and find a silver lining. I want others to love them as I do.
I love God, He wants me to be happy, He does not want me to worry because He's got everything under control, He is there to comfort me when thing go wrong and the joy He he puts in my heart shines on those around me. My purpose is to love him back, allow him to guide me through the life my heart has always longed for, and to let the joy that brings inspire and comfort those around me.
It seems too simple to be true. I feel that I am missing something. But this is what He whispered in my ear.
I also need to learn more about what love really is. I wish the purest love I felt was for my spouse, but I am not always unselfish or patient or kind to him. I wish I could say it was for my mother, but I selfishly lean on her for my own comfort. Or for my best friend, which is close to this love, but I still have selfish motives in my dreams for her. No, I think the purest love I have learned to express is for my baby brother. I only want him to be happy and safe. That simple. I don't expect or want anything from him other than the love I already know he has for me. Though this love is effortless for me to give to him, the idea of a God who feels this way about me is incomprehensible.
Perhaps as I come to accept this love and stop waiting to see what string is attached, I will begin to gain the courage to pursue my dreams. Perhaps when I learn to see God's face my own life will come into perspective.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)