Very stupid things I've done in the immediate past:
1. Bought (and opened and generally rendered unreturnable) a laundry bag, even though I already have a laundry bag.
2. Walked right into a spam scam. RIGHT INTO IT.
3. Did a load of laundry without soap.
4. Misread a song title as "Si Tu Doris Parker" when it is, in fact, "Si Tu Dois Partir."
5. Believed (again, still) that the project of online dating would result in something other than bruised feelings and an overarching sense of futility. Yay!
If one of you writes that as-yet-unwritten song, "Si Tu Doris Parker," you'll let me know, right? I'm very interested in hearing that song. Also, I'm growing increasingly suspicious that I need glasses. You'll want to stay tuned for the resulting "I feel silly in glasses" crisis.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Looking up
So far today I got:
1. Eight, uninterrupted hours of sleep. This has not happened in many thrashy, coughy nights and I am so thrilled to be restored to rest that I could just kiss you.
2. Two--TWO!--real letters in my mailbox. Letters that actually must have arrived yesterday, but my mailbox is so stupid that the good stuff often sinks down to the bottom while the ridiculous newspaper circulars get stuffed into the top where I have to rip and wrestle them free with two hands, only to recycle them immediately. But on my way past this morning, I glimpsed another crumpled advertising postcard and when I reached in to grab it, I unearthed two slim envelopes with my address penned in the recognizable handwriting of people I love.
3. A glimpse of five elderly Asian ladies on the tennis court in Dolores Park, well bundled and doing slow and deliberate calisthenics. I need to befriend some elderly Asian ladies to instill in me a commitment to exercise. Nothing else has worked.
4. The last parking place on the desired block.
5. Two compliments on my outfit.
And yesterday, in the good mail I did manage to find, in a teeny envelope within the larger one, I got a gold star. It's nice to have a friend who rewards you for sticking to hard resolutions.
I don't know, but I think 2013 is starting to come together for me. Here's hoping you can say the same.
1. Eight, uninterrupted hours of sleep. This has not happened in many thrashy, coughy nights and I am so thrilled to be restored to rest that I could just kiss you.
2. Two--TWO!--real letters in my mailbox. Letters that actually must have arrived yesterday, but my mailbox is so stupid that the good stuff often sinks down to the bottom while the ridiculous newspaper circulars get stuffed into the top where I have to rip and wrestle them free with two hands, only to recycle them immediately. But on my way past this morning, I glimpsed another crumpled advertising postcard and when I reached in to grab it, I unearthed two slim envelopes with my address penned in the recognizable handwriting of people I love.
3. A glimpse of five elderly Asian ladies on the tennis court in Dolores Park, well bundled and doing slow and deliberate calisthenics. I need to befriend some elderly Asian ladies to instill in me a commitment to exercise. Nothing else has worked.
4. The last parking place on the desired block.
5. Two compliments on my outfit.
And yesterday, in the good mail I did manage to find, in a teeny envelope within the larger one, I got a gold star. It's nice to have a friend who rewards you for sticking to hard resolutions.
I don't know, but I think 2013 is starting to come together for me. Here's hoping you can say the same.
Monday, January 21, 2013
A dream
It only just occurred to me as I turned off my light last night that President Obama's second inauguration coincides with Martin Luther King Day.
A hopeful sign, indeed.
A hopeful sign, indeed.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
2013
Here is a surprising confession: yesterday, I felt quite cheerful. I wouldn't mention it, except that I have not been feeling cheerful for rather a long while and it made a nice change. I spent the day blue-fingered and generally freezing (and please, dwellers of other lands, I know it is colder where you live and Californians discussing winter sparks great mirth and/or derisive snorting for you and your family and when you come here, you persist in wearing shorts because it is so balmy, etc. etc. I understand that cold is relative. However, I am still cold much of the time. I'm not kidding about the blue fingers. I hereby decree that I am allowed both to live in San Francisco and to be cold. At the same time. Thank you.) but when I left work around 7:30pm, there was a very crisp sliver of moon in a cloudless sky and it seemed benevolent. Upon my arrival at home (a place where there is a very reliable heater, praise be), I did some dishes (I am hoping the new year will prove to be a tidy one) and then settled in to watch the latest episode of "Downton Abbey" which I had somehow forgotten to watch the day before. If you are me, the revelation of a forgotten, unwatched "Downton Abbey" is akin to finding crumpled twenty-dollar bill in the pocket of your recently laundered jeans. This, along with tea and some small, delicious cupcakes made my the inimitable Katy Stephan, made me feel for the first time in weeks, like maybe everything is looking up, after all.
I had planned for my Christmas vacation to be a veritable festival of cocktails and treats and cinema excursions. Instead, I had the plague. No need to go on about it; after all, you're familiar with being sick, but it was a particularly miserable and lingering affair, not at all conducive to holiday jollity. Then, approximately two days after achieving near-wellness, I had surgery and went back to bed. Sigh.
Still. Happily, the kidney stone is no more. And soon, I hope, the remaining pain will also be awarded the past tense. And then--hoo boy--will I ever be a champagne-drinking social butterfly.
The afternoon of New Year's Eve, I finally felt well enough to go to a movie at last. After poring over my options, I chose Les Miserables. Now then. I am a girl who likes a musical, but somehow I had never actually seen this one. Frankly, that seems impossible to me, yet it is true. Ultimately, I think film is a very bad way to be introduced to it. I didn't know it was one of those opera-style shows where the singing just doesn't quit. That doesn't bother me onstage, but it turns out it bugs the hell out of me on screen. I became an eye-rolly snorter. No one wants to sit next to that girl. Sorry, everyone. I was really shocked by how much I didn't enjoy it. Before the revolution even got into full swing I thought, "Okay fine. Those two will get together. That one will die. I'm done here." And, people, I left. I almost never leave a movie. It felt quite rebellious. I think there was still a full hour to go. I tromped back to the parking garage where I had very begrudginly parked my car only because the movie was too long for the two-hour street parking limit. That damn garage charged me $10 which may be commonplace, but which made me absolutely furious. All in all, going to a movie I didn't like and didn't see all of cost me $20. Grrrr.
All of that may be why I enjoyed this so very much. There's a little mp3 clip that I invite you to listen to.
Edited 4/1/13 to add: Better yet, this. This is exactly my experience. A couple days later I found the antidote: Lincoln. Oh, how I loved it. If people in the 1800's actually spoke anything like that, I am truly sorry for the anemic state of the modern vernacular. But then, what I experienced may not be the conversation acrobatics of a bygone era; it may simply have been the conversational acrobatics of Tony Kushner. In which case, Tony Kushner, I thank you most humbly.
I had planned for my Christmas vacation to be a veritable festival of cocktails and treats and cinema excursions. Instead, I had the plague. No need to go on about it; after all, you're familiar with being sick, but it was a particularly miserable and lingering affair, not at all conducive to holiday jollity. Then, approximately two days after achieving near-wellness, I had surgery and went back to bed. Sigh.
Still. Happily, the kidney stone is no more. And soon, I hope, the remaining pain will also be awarded the past tense. And then--hoo boy--will I ever be a champagne-drinking social butterfly.
The afternoon of New Year's Eve, I finally felt well enough to go to a movie at last. After poring over my options, I chose Les Miserables. Now then. I am a girl who likes a musical, but somehow I had never actually seen this one. Frankly, that seems impossible to me, yet it is true. Ultimately, I think film is a very bad way to be introduced to it. I didn't know it was one of those opera-style shows where the singing just doesn't quit. That doesn't bother me onstage, but it turns out it bugs the hell out of me on screen. I became an eye-rolly snorter. No one wants to sit next to that girl. Sorry, everyone. I was really shocked by how much I didn't enjoy it. Before the revolution even got into full swing I thought, "Okay fine. Those two will get together. That one will die. I'm done here." And, people, I left. I almost never leave a movie. It felt quite rebellious. I think there was still a full hour to go. I tromped back to the parking garage where I had very begrudginly parked my car only because the movie was too long for the two-hour street parking limit. That damn garage charged me $10 which may be commonplace, but which made me absolutely furious. All in all, going to a movie I didn't like and didn't see all of cost me $20. Grrrr.
All of that may be why I enjoyed this so very much. There's a little mp3 clip that I invite you to listen to.
Edited 4/1/13 to add: Better yet, this. This is exactly my experience. A couple days later I found the antidote: Lincoln. Oh, how I loved it. If people in the 1800's actually spoke anything like that, I am truly sorry for the anemic state of the modern vernacular. But then, what I experienced may not be the conversation acrobatics of a bygone era; it may simply have been the conversational acrobatics of Tony Kushner. In which case, Tony Kushner, I thank you most humbly.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Bright new tomorrow
I am not dead. Have I been sick since seemingly the dawn of time? Oh, yes. And yet, I am coming round, people. I am almost back. Tomorrow, in fact, I will try to actually write things for your edification and amusement.
In the meantime, let it be known that I'll be at Porchlight for the aptly-themed, brand new year of storytelling next Monday, January 21. I guess I should specify that I'm going to be telling a story. "I'll be at Porchlight" is often the case, but usually I'm in the audience. Not that I wouldn't want you to say hi if we were both there, but, you know, it's kind of a bigger deal that I'm performing. To me, anyway.
Phew. That was hard. I'm totally out of practice communicating with other humans. Though I do talk to myself aloud quite a lot, it's not quite the same. Hi.
In the meantime, let it be known that I'll be at Porchlight for the aptly-themed, brand new year of storytelling next Monday, January 21. I guess I should specify that I'm going to be telling a story. "I'll be at Porchlight" is often the case, but usually I'm in the audience. Not that I wouldn't want you to say hi if we were both there, but, you know, it's kind of a bigger deal that I'm performing. To me, anyway.
Phew. That was hard. I'm totally out of practice communicating with other humans. Though I do talk to myself aloud quite a lot, it's not quite the same. Hi.
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