So, as most of you will know from my compulsive FB updates, this past weekend was one for the books (well, the blog in this case)
I worked at the med skool on Friday & was watching the clock like crazy, bc I knew my dear friend, Roy from WI, would be waiting in the lobby for me, fresh off the plane. We got on the ever-glamorous Franklin bus & got to my place right in time for some delicious Ketel One & cranberry cocktails to settle our nerves.
I made tacos for supper & my friend Nanette popped up with a delicious chocolate birthday cake (cake cake cake cake cake cake cake). We visited for a bit & she rolled off & Roy & I kept drinking & talking & we watched some classic episodes of the Bionic Woman, starrring Lindsay Wagner!
Needless to say, our LRW weekend continued on with skillets for breakfast on Saturday, followed by Dalida DVDs & Bloody Marys all afternoon. Good stuff.
Keeping with my post 35 bday tradition, dinner was at the ever-delightful El Gato Negro. Sandi, Stacey, Eddie & his hubby, Denny & the always beautiful Kris Ford joined Roy & I for an unforgettable dinner. Yum yum yum. Tableside guacamole & queso fundido were our second course (clearly the 1st was Carrot Juice Margaritas, although I think the others may have had other kinds of Maggies) and I had the chorizo & pork fajitas for my entree (and breakfast Monday), while others had Chicken con molé, buffalo tacos (yes buffalo meat, bitch), & some other stuff. As you can prolly guess, I was around CJM (Carrot Juice Margarita) #4 or so by this point.
I was too stuffed for dessert, but our server brought us out a delicious set of shots as lil bday present, which I thought was lovely. Then Stacey & Sandi brought Roy & me to my apt & joined us for some of Nanette's delicious cake, and afterwards Roy & I settled in for more drinks & classic Dr Who!
In honor of Peter Purves being one of the guests at the Gallifrey One (is it really all the way in February???), we watched The Ark, ep 4 of The Celestial Toymaker & The Gunfighters. Ole girl & I fell asleep on our respective couches after a while & so I got up & went to bed after I got him all situated onna couch. We also came up with a lot of alternate lyrics to the Ballad of the Last Chance Saloon, but I think that's better left to the imagination....
For Sunday Funday, we woke up around noon (ooh the decadence of it), got ourselves together & finished up the Bloody Mary Mix & headed off to the Country Club for some brunch & bronzing. We started with the bottomless Mimosas & then shared a skewered chicken app. For my entree I had chicken on a biscuit (WOW) with fries & a side of mac & cheese, while Roy had something that I forgot (PS did I mention we'd been drinking since Friday, so I may be a lil hazy on some details here & there) & then we headed to the pool.
It was PACKED out there. There was not one free deck chair. Naturally, I didn't care as I was really just looking for a place to put down my bag so I could get in the pool! I spent the rest of the day, sunning myself in the water, chatting to all & sundry. Nanette joined us (as did her fiance, a lil later on) for some hijinx & then was kind enough to bring us home around 9 that night. Some hazy highlights I remember include some naked so-called straight man extolling the virtues of prostate orgasms, an over-enthusiastic, ahem, shall we say, suitor of mine, & well, a lot of nudity in general, and for once, most of the nude people were exceptionally attractive. Or maybe that was bc of the sun in my eyes & the booze in my belly. But I digress...
Roy & I got back here after a quick stop at Walgreens for cigs & a frozen pizza & then we chowed down & started watching Invasion of the Dinosaurs, in honor of our girl, the late, lamented, Lis Sladen. We didn't make it all the way thru it (between the sun & the booze I'm shocked we made it thru eps 1-4), so clearly on Monday we finished watching it, after a nice long sleep in.
We watched more Bionic Bimbo & talked crazy for a bit until it was time for Roy to get in a taxi & then fly on back home. I spent the rest of the day catching up on my sleep, basking in the feeling of well-being & love that I got not only from the people who were able to be present on my birthday, but also from all the support & kind wishes from everybody in FB-land.
Thanks again for everything.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Good News? Bad News?
Well, news, at any rate.
In case it hasn't been obvious by omission, I got a letter a few weeks from Tulane's PhD in French program. A rejection letter. It gave me that kicked in the chest in the grocery store feeling at first, snd I'd be lying if I said I didn't shed a few tears over it, but in the final analysis, it is for the best. I don't really have a burning desire for a PhD, but I definitely want to stay in NOLA and work in Foreign Languages (and, yes, go back into student deferment on the student loans) and I thought that getting a PhD in French from Tulane would be a good way to accomplish that. It felt like really bad news at the time. Now, I'm not so sure.
In other news, I got a call last week from the Dept Chair of ESL/Foreign Languages at Tarado Community Colledge here in town (I have been in touch w this lady a few times over the course of the Spring), asking me to teach 1 class Spanish 101 for their Summer Session (starting TOMORROW!!!!!!!!). I went up there today to fill out some paperwork, so she could get the proverbial wheels rolling. Naturally I don't have a skool e-mail address but fortunately, my dear friend Valeria was initially scheduled to teach the class so she had a syllabus ready & was gracious enough to hook me up with photocopies of the 1st chapter or so of the book until I receive my copy. I'm not sure if this is good news or not either. It doesn't feel like bad news though. There are only about 10 ppl in the class, and it's held from 9:30-10:45AM M-TH. The only down side is that it is on the Westbank Campus. This promises to be an interesting bus ride 4 times a week, at least....
In GREAT news, my Sistah, Roy, (whom I met at Gallifrey One a cpl years ago) will be coming to NOLA this Friday to for my Birthday week-end!! We gonna have plenty visiting, dining & perhaps a lil drinking too---Especially when we take over the patio at El Gato Negro on Saturday Night when I turn the big 3-?....you already know my mouth is watering thinking about those Carrot Juice Margaritas!!
Ooh. I'm trembling with anticipation about all of it...Delgado tomorrow, the big weekend, and just seeing what's next on my horizons!
Praise Bless & Thanks for Reading!
In case it hasn't been obvious by omission, I got a letter a few weeks from Tulane's PhD in French program. A rejection letter. It gave me that kicked in the chest in the grocery store feeling at first, snd I'd be lying if I said I didn't shed a few tears over it, but in the final analysis, it is for the best. I don't really have a burning desire for a PhD, but I definitely want to stay in NOLA and work in Foreign Languages (and, yes, go back into student deferment on the student loans) and I thought that getting a PhD in French from Tulane would be a good way to accomplish that. It felt like really bad news at the time. Now, I'm not so sure.
In other news, I got a call last week from the Dept Chair of ESL/Foreign Languages at Tarado Community Colledge here in town (I have been in touch w this lady a few times over the course of the Spring), asking me to teach 1 class Spanish 101 for their Summer Session (starting TOMORROW!!!!!!!!). I went up there today to fill out some paperwork, so she could get the proverbial wheels rolling. Naturally I don't have a skool e-mail address but fortunately, my dear friend Valeria was initially scheduled to teach the class so she had a syllabus ready & was gracious enough to hook me up with photocopies of the 1st chapter or so of the book until I receive my copy. I'm not sure if this is good news or not either. It doesn't feel like bad news though. There are only about 10 ppl in the class, and it's held from 9:30-10:45AM M-TH. The only down side is that it is on the Westbank Campus. This promises to be an interesting bus ride 4 times a week, at least....
In GREAT news, my Sistah, Roy, (whom I met at Gallifrey One a cpl years ago) will be coming to NOLA this Friday to for my Birthday week-end!! We gonna have plenty visiting, dining & perhaps a lil drinking too---Especially when we take over the patio at El Gato Negro on Saturday Night when I turn the big 3-?....you already know my mouth is watering thinking about those Carrot Juice Margaritas!!
Ooh. I'm trembling with anticipation about all of it...Delgado tomorrow, the big weekend, and just seeing what's next on my horizons!
Praise Bless & Thanks for Reading!
Monday, April 30, 2012
Grief at the Grocery
I haven't posted about this except for an FB status update, but at the beginning of the year, I went thru a Bestie Break-up. No warning, no fight, but out of nowhere someone I thought of as family just stopped returning my text messages around Christmas.
I checked on his FB & he'd deleted me as a friend.
Around January 2, I txted him: "Look. Don't make me get all Mo Gumbo on you & stalk you. If there is something I've done to piss you off I'd appreciate the chance to talk it over & work things out. I miss you."
An hour or so later I got some weird terse thing like: "If you love me let me go. I have not been true to my inner voice for a long time now. Please don't contact me again, Sam. I pray you will find peace."
It felt like a kick in the chest then & it still does.
I got a new phone the next day & I'd decided to honor his no-contact request & so I didn't transfer his number. I figured this way I wouldn't be tempted to blow up his phone like some crazy person.
In the morning I got a text from an unknown number that said: "Damn, I think I'm leaving."
I wasn't quite awake yet & just texted back "Who is this?" when I didn't initially recognize the number.
It didn't occur to me until I was making groceries this afternoon at Rouse's that it was his number. I was reaching into one of the coolers for something & I just flashed back to being there with him, & I looked over my shoulder & I could just sort of see him out of the corner of my eye & of course he wasn't there but it just hit me how sad it was that he wasn't there & how sad I've been since I got that text.
If I hadn't gotten there on the bus, I'd have left right then.
I got that kicked in the chest feeling as I walked thru the aisles, every time remembering some sassy interchange between us and the check-out aisle was the worst, thinking about all the times we cut up with the girls behind the register, like the time he was dancing to the music in his head & Miss Irish (yes that is this Ho's real name) was looking at him crazy & said she was gonna call 911 if I hadn't explained his behavior to her.
I never thought funny moments could make me so sad.
I cycle between sad & angry & depressed about it all the time but wow it really just grabbed hold of me at that Rouse's & wouldn't let me go. The anger part of it was severely exacerbated by the fact that I called United Cab for a ride home at 5PM. Then again at 5:20. & 5:40. & 6:10. & 6:25. To the point that one of the ppl answering the phone recognized my voice & said, "Sam, you still haven't gotten a cab yet?"
They were all suitably apologetic but I ended up calling Yellow Cab & getting home with one of them.
But I had to sit in front of the Rouse's for almost 2 hours before that Yellow Cab got there, just doing my best not to burst out crying over how fucking sad things are without the laughs & fun I used to have with this guy.
At first I really couldn't think what brought this all on & why it couldn't wait until I was not in fucking public to be all emotional like that, but now that I've written it all out, it makes sense, insofar as that is possible.
Did I mention that just as the 1st big crest of the emotional wave smashed me to pieces, I came across a table of candy bars, 2 for $1?? Needless to say LRW grabbed a Take 5, a Reese's Nutrageous, a Butterfinger Crisp & a Reese's Crisp. Not to mention some Lil Debbie Snack Cakes.
Geez, I sound like someone on that show "Addicted to Food."
Anyway so I came home, had a cry, ate my emotions & watched RuPaul's Drag Race. RuPaul makes a bad Monday a lot better.
Well at least until I think about how much he loved that show & how we'd watch together on Monday nights this time last year.
At least I'm not imagining I see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting in his usual spot on the couch...
The worst part about this whole thing is that I can't do anything with these feelings. He asked me not to contact him. I can't force him to be my friend again.
I wish I had some nice surprise twist ending to this blog, like in the Mary Tyler Moore TV movie that starts with Mary & Rhoda making up after not talking for a long time, & Mary says, "What were we thinking?"
& Rhoda says: "I don't know, but I don't ever wanna think it again."
But what I actually have is hope that time will heal this wound & gratitude for all the amazing people I do have in my life. It's just that I'd like this particular one back, y'know?
I checked on his FB & he'd deleted me as a friend.
Around January 2, I txted him: "Look. Don't make me get all Mo Gumbo on you & stalk you. If there is something I've done to piss you off I'd appreciate the chance to talk it over & work things out. I miss you."
An hour or so later I got some weird terse thing like: "If you love me let me go. I have not been true to my inner voice for a long time now. Please don't contact me again, Sam. I pray you will find peace."
It felt like a kick in the chest then & it still does.
I got a new phone the next day & I'd decided to honor his no-contact request & so I didn't transfer his number. I figured this way I wouldn't be tempted to blow up his phone like some crazy person.
In the morning I got a text from an unknown number that said: "Damn, I think I'm leaving."
I wasn't quite awake yet & just texted back "Who is this?" when I didn't initially recognize the number.
It didn't occur to me until I was making groceries this afternoon at Rouse's that it was his number. I was reaching into one of the coolers for something & I just flashed back to being there with him, & I looked over my shoulder & I could just sort of see him out of the corner of my eye & of course he wasn't there but it just hit me how sad it was that he wasn't there & how sad I've been since I got that text.
If I hadn't gotten there on the bus, I'd have left right then.
I got that kicked in the chest feeling as I walked thru the aisles, every time remembering some sassy interchange between us and the check-out aisle was the worst, thinking about all the times we cut up with the girls behind the register, like the time he was dancing to the music in his head & Miss Irish (yes that is this Ho's real name) was looking at him crazy & said she was gonna call 911 if I hadn't explained his behavior to her.
I never thought funny moments could make me so sad.
I cycle between sad & angry & depressed about it all the time but wow it really just grabbed hold of me at that Rouse's & wouldn't let me go. The anger part of it was severely exacerbated by the fact that I called United Cab for a ride home at 5PM. Then again at 5:20. & 5:40. & 6:10. & 6:25. To the point that one of the ppl answering the phone recognized my voice & said, "Sam, you still haven't gotten a cab yet?"
They were all suitably apologetic but I ended up calling Yellow Cab & getting home with one of them.
But I had to sit in front of the Rouse's for almost 2 hours before that Yellow Cab got there, just doing my best not to burst out crying over how fucking sad things are without the laughs & fun I used to have with this guy.
At first I really couldn't think what brought this all on & why it couldn't wait until I was not in fucking public to be all emotional like that, but now that I've written it all out, it makes sense, insofar as that is possible.
Did I mention that just as the 1st big crest of the emotional wave smashed me to pieces, I came across a table of candy bars, 2 for $1?? Needless to say LRW grabbed a Take 5, a Reese's Nutrageous, a Butterfinger Crisp & a Reese's Crisp. Not to mention some Lil Debbie Snack Cakes.
Geez, I sound like someone on that show "Addicted to Food."
Anyway so I came home, had a cry, ate my emotions & watched RuPaul's Drag Race. RuPaul makes a bad Monday a lot better.
Well at least until I think about how much he loved that show & how we'd watch together on Monday nights this time last year.
At least I'm not imagining I see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting in his usual spot on the couch...
The worst part about this whole thing is that I can't do anything with these feelings. He asked me not to contact him. I can't force him to be my friend again.
I wish I had some nice surprise twist ending to this blog, like in the Mary Tyler Moore TV movie that starts with Mary & Rhoda making up after not talking for a long time, & Mary says, "What were we thinking?"
& Rhoda says: "I don't know, but I don't ever wanna think it again."
But what I actually have is hope that time will heal this wound & gratitude for all the amazing people I do have in my life. It's just that I'd like this particular one back, y'know?
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Addicted to Addictions, Compelled by Compulsions...
I've noticed a trend in entertainment lately, TV shows about ppl struggling with compulsive behaviors. You know what I'm talking about:
Intervention
Addicted
My Strange Addiction
Celebrity Rehab
Hoarders
Hoarding: Buried Alive
Addicted to Food
My Crazy Obsession
Bad Sex
Strange Sex
RuPaul's Drag Race
Oh, sorry, that last one is just one of MY addictions.
Anyway, the list goes on & on.
What does it say about us as a culture, this phenomenon of watching people drink gasoline or smoke crystal meth or inject animal tranquilizers? I can't help but wonder how many ppl see this kinda stuff & actually try it out, thinking "Oh well I'm not as dumb as that ho on (insert show name here), I will be just fine. Besides, it looked like she was feeling good when she (gambled/shopped/screwed) her way thru the day, and if it gets out of hand I can just call Dr Drew or Dr Phil or Oprah & get myself out of it."
Nobody says "I wanna be a junky when I grow up," or maybe they do, just to break the rules.
As most of you will know already, I have had my struggles with addiction, in fact all these shows are starting to make me think that we all are, to some degree or another. (I swear this makes more sense than my belief that everyone in NYC is a sex offender because of Law & Order: SVU).
It seems like we all rely on something to get us thru: coffee, cocktails, pills (vitamin or otherwise)...so does this mean the key is in managing one's vices? Nurturing the productive ones & not indulging too much (or maybe at all) in the destructive ones?
I'm not really sure, let me get back to my Dr Who & knitting & I'll let you know....
I've noticed a trend in entertainment lately, TV shows about ppl struggling with compulsive behaviors. You know what I'm talking about:
Intervention
Addicted
My Strange Addiction
Celebrity Rehab
Hoarders
Hoarding: Buried Alive
Addicted to Food
My Crazy Obsession
Bad Sex
Strange Sex
RuPaul's Drag Race
Oh, sorry, that last one is just one of MY addictions.
Anyway, the list goes on & on.
What does it say about us as a culture, this phenomenon of watching people drink gasoline or smoke crystal meth or inject animal tranquilizers? I can't help but wonder how many ppl see this kinda stuff & actually try it out, thinking "Oh well I'm not as dumb as that ho on (insert show name here), I will be just fine. Besides, it looked like she was feeling good when she (gambled/shopped/screwed) her way thru the day, and if it gets out of hand I can just call Dr Drew or Dr Phil or Oprah & get myself out of it."
Nobody says "I wanna be a junky when I grow up," or maybe they do, just to break the rules.
As most of you will know already, I have had my struggles with addiction, in fact all these shows are starting to make me think that we all are, to some degree or another. (I swear this makes more sense than my belief that everyone in NYC is a sex offender because of Law & Order: SVU).
It seems like we all rely on something to get us thru: coffee, cocktails, pills (vitamin or otherwise)...so does this mean the key is in managing one's vices? Nurturing the productive ones & not indulging too much (or maybe at all) in the destructive ones?
I'm not really sure, let me get back to my Dr Who & knitting & I'll let you know....
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Gallifrey One: Network 23 ----BEST WEEKEND OF THE YEAR.
So as you will have gathered from my social media silence followed by a flurry of FB pics, I spent Mardi Gras weekend at the LAX Marriott with over 3100 other fans of my absolute favorite TV show since age 5, Doctor Who. God, it feels good to say that. It is like coming out of the closet all over again. This was my 4th convention, albeit my 2nd consecutive one & boy was it great! I (somehow) managed to focus my mind enough to work during the day Thursday & got on my 7:30PM flight to LAX, arriving at 9:55 local time. 3 Bloody Marys on the plane later, we arrive and I grab my bag from baggage claim & grab the 1st shuttle heading vaguely in the direction of the Marriott. I got out of the Renaissance Shuttle and walked 2 blocks to the Marriott & BOOM. There were 4 or 5 of my Gally Pals outside smoking (all the best people!) including but not limited to Simon, Justin, Josh (my amazing roommate), Lee, my sistah Roy!! It really felt like coming home, catching up with everyone before I even put my luggage down. Of course, it didn't end there, in fact the whole weekend was like that.
Upon entering the Lobby, I joined the most fun yet unofficial part of it all, LobbyCon. To the unitiated, this might just seem like a bunch of dorks standing around a hotel lobby, drinking and talking crazy but...oh never mind, that's what it is, OK? But damn if it doesn't make the price of admission seem paltry indeed!
Along the course of the weekend, I made it to some panels (Doctor Who in the 60s was the BEST), missed others, got some autographs, gave Louise Jameson (Leela from the classic series) a scarf I knitted, laughed myself silly during Mysterious Theatre 337, marvelled at Louise's great work in "Pulling Faces," her one-woman show about her decision not to have plastic surgery...and I have to admit, I did more drinking in 5 days/4 nights than I have since...well, last Gallifrey. I hit it the hardest Thursday night (or maybe it is better to say it hit me hardest Friday morning), and I sort of blacked out. Not in a scary way though, it's not like I woke up Friday in a strange room, leaking, with a bunch of strangers standing around me...how different this blog would be!
My only true regret is not getting my picture taken with the TARDIS console prop from the TV Movie. However, as you can see from my FB pics, I never stopped smiling!! Daleks in the hallways, little kids dressed as characters from before I was even born, all manner of gender/race-bending cosplay...it is a lot like Mardi Gras, minus morons, or maybe more like a rave plus 20 IQ points per person across the board!
I unveiled my version of Tom Baker's 1st scarf on Saturday & was pleasantly surprised that everyone seemed to LOVE it. My whole idea was not simply to duplicate the original, but rather to make it my own thru creative use of textures and colors. Topics of conversations ranged from Markie Post's mullet (yes I know it has nothing to do with Doctor Who) to Formicida the Ant Lady from Wonder Woman (our hotel room got upgraded bc our original room had ANTS MUTHAFUCKA ANTS) to how fanwanky "The Doctor's Wife" is (yea, well at least we got to collectively cum hard once, instead of edging over months for not as much release as we deserve) and much more besides. A big personal highlight for me was when Eric Roberts yelled a compliment across the room about my scarf, but the best part was the camraderie, running into an old friend, or a new one, & being delighted to discover what ELSE you have in common besides the incredible institution that is Doctor Who.
Next year will be the show's 50th anniversary and as you can probably guess, I'm already pre-registered!! Clearly, it's not too early to start ordering hats/scarves to help me fund the next trip!!
Thanks so much to all the con staff & attendees for making this the best weekend of the whole damn year! Can't wait til next time!!
Upon entering the Lobby, I joined the most fun yet unofficial part of it all, LobbyCon. To the unitiated, this might just seem like a bunch of dorks standing around a hotel lobby, drinking and talking crazy but...oh never mind, that's what it is, OK? But damn if it doesn't make the price of admission seem paltry indeed!
Along the course of the weekend, I made it to some panels (Doctor Who in the 60s was the BEST), missed others, got some autographs, gave Louise Jameson (Leela from the classic series) a scarf I knitted, laughed myself silly during Mysterious Theatre 337, marvelled at Louise's great work in "Pulling Faces," her one-woman show about her decision not to have plastic surgery...and I have to admit, I did more drinking in 5 days/4 nights than I have since...well, last Gallifrey. I hit it the hardest Thursday night (or maybe it is better to say it hit me hardest Friday morning), and I sort of blacked out. Not in a scary way though, it's not like I woke up Friday in a strange room, leaking, with a bunch of strangers standing around me...how different this blog would be!
My only true regret is not getting my picture taken with the TARDIS console prop from the TV Movie. However, as you can see from my FB pics, I never stopped smiling!! Daleks in the hallways, little kids dressed as characters from before I was even born, all manner of gender/race-bending cosplay...it is a lot like Mardi Gras, minus morons, or maybe more like a rave plus 20 IQ points per person across the board!
I unveiled my version of Tom Baker's 1st scarf on Saturday & was pleasantly surprised that everyone seemed to LOVE it. My whole idea was not simply to duplicate the original, but rather to make it my own thru creative use of textures and colors. Topics of conversations ranged from Markie Post's mullet (yes I know it has nothing to do with Doctor Who) to Formicida the Ant Lady from Wonder Woman (our hotel room got upgraded bc our original room had ANTS MUTHAFUCKA ANTS) to how fanwanky "The Doctor's Wife" is (yea, well at least we got to collectively cum hard once, instead of edging over months for not as much release as we deserve) and much more besides. A big personal highlight for me was when Eric Roberts yelled a compliment across the room about my scarf, but the best part was the camraderie, running into an old friend, or a new one, & being delighted to discover what ELSE you have in common besides the incredible institution that is Doctor Who.
Next year will be the show's 50th anniversary and as you can probably guess, I'm already pre-registered!! Clearly, it's not too early to start ordering hats/scarves to help me fund the next trip!!
Thanks so much to all the con staff & attendees for making this the best weekend of the whole damn year! Can't wait til next time!!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Avoiding the Biddy-ness....
...or, More Crazy Hoes I used to Know....
I recently ran into a former...roommate? Partner in Crime? Fag Hag? All these words, and many more could describe who she was to me, but let's just call her Biddy. We first met back in the Fall of 1992, right after I'd graduated from High School. We met at the 1st university I attended (yes, the one where I got a 0.5 cuz I was out drinking and playing cards all the time); she was the manager of the radio station where I volunteered, a senior about to graduate with a BA in theatre. We became friends, she was about 7 years older than I was but we had a lot in common, at least musically. OK we both loved Sinead O'Connor & often stayed up late on the phone doing Sinead sing-a-longs. She moved to NOLA right after the University placed me on Academic Suspension & my parents and I were fussing all the time & I ended up staying with her for a while. I was going thru a pretty self-destructive phase & I pushed her (and alot of other people I cared about) away.
Things got really crucial for me for awhile, and I had to spend some time in rehab. When I got out, I moved back in with my family & stayed sober but the problems we had weren't resolved & it was still just as much fussing, I was just sober the whole time. Not to mention unemployed & slung up in Hahnville with no car. Which sucked.
One day, she & I were on the phone & she heard how my Dad was talking to me & she just said, grrl enough is enough. Pack what you need to take with you. You can stay with me. We will work it out.
She had just graduated from UNO with an MA in Film Direction & I thought she was going places. What I did not realize was that despite her education, she didn't really have much in the way of Ambition, and the best thing she could come up with to make ends meet was selling handmade jewelry at the French Market, and that wasn't cutting it. I was sleeping on her couch, and grateful that she let me stay there, so when someone she knew offered to let her sell pot for them, I was all on board about it. Neither one of us had jobs & we both knew lots of people that smoked so it just seemed like a good idea. (It just sounds so stupid now) At first, she was getting daily phone calls from Sallie Mae, Discover Card, Mastercard, Entergy, you name it, people wanted their money. So I helped her out, the only way I knew how. On top of the bizz I was helping her with, I also got two jobs (Catering & working at a local magazine) while she mostly just sat on the couch, bitching, freaking out about money, and not taking her psych meds.
She let me drive her car around to do "errands" and she would let me have $20 per day "walking around money" as she called it. I would have to pay for parking, get cigarettes & food & keep gas in the car on this amount of money, despite all the hundreds of dollars at a time that I was bringing her. Anyway, I moved in around Halloween & by Christmas, Sallie Mae & all them other hoes had stopped calling & we were doing well enough that we moved into another, two-bedroom place down the street.
I thought things would be different, like now that we were in "our house" & not "hers" things would be split more 50-50. But no. She still wanted to take all the money, pay our joint bills and her personal ones (and my fines for getting busted with her stuff) and give me a $20 per diem, all the time ready to flip on me if I brought her the wrong fast food, or God Forbid, that the food should be cold.
She was so lazy that she couldn't even be bothered to go out & do sales. She had all sorts of ppl in & out of that place & our landlord lived like 2 blocks away. He got wind of what was going on up in there, and in June of 1999, right after I turned 25, he came by the place & basically told us he knew what we were up to & that he wasn't calling the police, but that he wanted us to leave. I was grateful he wasn't calling the cops but Miss Biddy was OUTRAGED. Instead of just admitting fault, she blew up on him. He never did call the police on us, even when she withheld the last month's rent & told him to keep the deposit to cover it.
During that last month, she was even more mean & unreasonable than I remembered. I was just as sick in this Nightmare of Co-depency that I had gotten myself entangled with, like one night I was driving back from getting her some fast food thru City Park, in the really cruisy part & this hot man pulled up alongside me in his car, flashing his piece at me. Well damn if I didn't end up poking this man in the woods. Naturally when I got home, Biddy's food was cold & she completely blew a gasket. She also threw her sandwich and fries at my head when I told her why I was late. She made me go back out & get her more fast food. This time, I went thru the park first & spent like 40 minutes fooling around with various dudes BEFORE I went and got her Number 11 from Burger King. Talk about passive-aggressive.
Anyway, we were both looking for a new place together but it was getting harder & harder for me to take her yelling at me for spending money or not letting her use my money to pay for drugs or whatever it was that day. She went camping with some friends of hers & left me the car & the night she got back, she paged me (lord, who remembers pagers any more?) and I stopped at the store to pick up some cigarettes for both of us on the way home. My backpack was in the front seat of her car & I must have forgotten to lock the car properly, because by the time I got home, I realized that my smiley-face backpack was gone. Snatched. With all my ID plus $$$ & pot. Miss Biddy carried on yelling at me about how she couldn't afford my fuckups for a solid 2 hours. Eventually she tired her self out & I just sat in the living room, crying in silent devastation.
.I thought about it. Prayed about it. & then I made my choice. I went to the stash box & took half the money & product, packed enough clothes for a few days, & headed over to stay with my friend Swervella, leaving a note that basically said, "This is all over between us. I can't take this any more. You are mean and greedy and I'm tired of paying for everything and it never being good enough. I'm taking half of what was in the box & I don't expect to hear from you again."
Swervella let me stay there, and of course old girl showed up on his front porch the following morning, at the crack of 11, crying and begging me to talk to her, to not abandon her, to keep being her roommate, etc etc etc. I went to the house with her and I explained how I felt. How I had been paying bills that weren't mine to pay and constantly being demeaned & yelled at (often in front of our friends) and she tried to justify this or that and I think she must have realized that she wasn't going to get what she wanted & she finally just said, "Sam, I need you to tell me that it's over, that I'm just too much of a nightmare to live with."
The fact is that not only was she a nightmare, she was giving me nightmares, I often woke up screaming at her to stop yelling at me already, so I told her what she asked me to say.
Within a month, I had legally earned enough $$ with a little help from Swervella to get my own place and I tried to be civil with Miss Biddy, at least civil enough to get her to front me one last bit of pot & then tell her that I wasn't paying later on because I had paid more than enough of her bills. She was living on someone else's couch & really didn't appreciate what I had to say about the situation, but there you have it. This would have been in the late summer/early fall of 1999. Last I heard, she had moved back to Larose or Cutoff or some place like that with this guy who liked fat girls around early 2000.
Well, you'll never guess who showed up working at the drinks booth at the Freret Market last month. Yep, Big Bad Biddy, looking bad. All haggard in the face & fat in the waist & I wasn't sure it was her at first, but I called her name as she passed by my stall, she stopped, we talked...civilly. There was no hugging. Just a sort of mutual "How've you been" "Good" sort of a thing. She asked if my scarves were knit or crochet. I told her knit, and gave her one of my Witty Knitter business cards. She never came into my booth. She said, "well, I wish you luck with it." I said, "Likewise." and that was all we had to say to each other.
A part of me rejoiced at how bad she looks. I admit it. To say Miss Biddy is in her mid-40s now, she looks closer to her late 50s-early 60s. Bad highlights on her already stringy hair. But I don't know, the joy has kind of gone out of it. It's just sad. She was never going to be Angelina Jolie or some other sex symbol but Wow. It makes me even gladder that I didn't follow her down that twisted path she was guiding me on.
I learned a lot of things from living with her & every day since I got my MA, I try to do things to avoid the Biddy-ness. Like I feel it creep up on me if I'm inactive for too long, I'm very wary of days when I just wanna sit around on the couch and bitch, or if I start to feel like I'm the victim of circumstances and not a participant in my own life. It's not easy though. Sometimes it just seems so much easier just to sit around and wish for better things and justify bad behavior but really it's not. Really it just leads to regrets and recriminations and who has the energy for all that?
I have been thinking a lot about this lately, as I find myself at (yet another) crossroads. Since this thing at IHSNO doesn't seem to be working out, I made some phone calls yesterday & found out that I am able to go back to working at the med skool as a Standardized Patient and that the restaurant where I have been doing my guest-star stuff is looking for actual staff, so that is how I will spend this semester, and probably the summer. I have also decided to apply to Tulane's PhD in French program for the Fall. Hopefully I will be able to do some tutoring to make a little extra $$ as well. I am trying not to look at this as doing more of the same, but rather as doing things I don't neccessarily want to do now so I can do what I want to do later.
Wish me Luck!!
I recently ran into a former...roommate? Partner in Crime? Fag Hag? All these words, and many more could describe who she was to me, but let's just call her Biddy. We first met back in the Fall of 1992, right after I'd graduated from High School. We met at the 1st university I attended (yes, the one where I got a 0.5 cuz I was out drinking and playing cards all the time); she was the manager of the radio station where I volunteered, a senior about to graduate with a BA in theatre. We became friends, she was about 7 years older than I was but we had a lot in common, at least musically. OK we both loved Sinead O'Connor & often stayed up late on the phone doing Sinead sing-a-longs. She moved to NOLA right after the University placed me on Academic Suspension & my parents and I were fussing all the time & I ended up staying with her for a while. I was going thru a pretty self-destructive phase & I pushed her (and alot of other people I cared about) away.
Things got really crucial for me for awhile, and I had to spend some time in rehab. When I got out, I moved back in with my family & stayed sober but the problems we had weren't resolved & it was still just as much fussing, I was just sober the whole time. Not to mention unemployed & slung up in Hahnville with no car. Which sucked.
One day, she & I were on the phone & she heard how my Dad was talking to me & she just said, grrl enough is enough. Pack what you need to take with you. You can stay with me. We will work it out.
She had just graduated from UNO with an MA in Film Direction & I thought she was going places. What I did not realize was that despite her education, she didn't really have much in the way of Ambition, and the best thing she could come up with to make ends meet was selling handmade jewelry at the French Market, and that wasn't cutting it. I was sleeping on her couch, and grateful that she let me stay there, so when someone she knew offered to let her sell pot for them, I was all on board about it. Neither one of us had jobs & we both knew lots of people that smoked so it just seemed like a good idea. (It just sounds so stupid now) At first, she was getting daily phone calls from Sallie Mae, Discover Card, Mastercard, Entergy, you name it, people wanted their money. So I helped her out, the only way I knew how. On top of the bizz I was helping her with, I also got two jobs (Catering & working at a local magazine) while she mostly just sat on the couch, bitching, freaking out about money, and not taking her psych meds.
She let me drive her car around to do "errands" and she would let me have $20 per day "walking around money" as she called it. I would have to pay for parking, get cigarettes & food & keep gas in the car on this amount of money, despite all the hundreds of dollars at a time that I was bringing her. Anyway, I moved in around Halloween & by Christmas, Sallie Mae & all them other hoes had stopped calling & we were doing well enough that we moved into another, two-bedroom place down the street.
I thought things would be different, like now that we were in "our house" & not "hers" things would be split more 50-50. But no. She still wanted to take all the money, pay our joint bills and her personal ones (and my fines for getting busted with her stuff) and give me a $20 per diem, all the time ready to flip on me if I brought her the wrong fast food, or God Forbid, that the food should be cold.
She was so lazy that she couldn't even be bothered to go out & do sales. She had all sorts of ppl in & out of that place & our landlord lived like 2 blocks away. He got wind of what was going on up in there, and in June of 1999, right after I turned 25, he came by the place & basically told us he knew what we were up to & that he wasn't calling the police, but that he wanted us to leave. I was grateful he wasn't calling the cops but Miss Biddy was OUTRAGED. Instead of just admitting fault, she blew up on him. He never did call the police on us, even when she withheld the last month's rent & told him to keep the deposit to cover it.
During that last month, she was even more mean & unreasonable than I remembered. I was just as sick in this Nightmare of Co-depency that I had gotten myself entangled with, like one night I was driving back from getting her some fast food thru City Park, in the really cruisy part & this hot man pulled up alongside me in his car, flashing his piece at me. Well damn if I didn't end up poking this man in the woods. Naturally when I got home, Biddy's food was cold & she completely blew a gasket. She also threw her sandwich and fries at my head when I told her why I was late. She made me go back out & get her more fast food. This time, I went thru the park first & spent like 40 minutes fooling around with various dudes BEFORE I went and got her Number 11 from Burger King. Talk about passive-aggressive.
Anyway, we were both looking for a new place together but it was getting harder & harder for me to take her yelling at me for spending money or not letting her use my money to pay for drugs or whatever it was that day. She went camping with some friends of hers & left me the car & the night she got back, she paged me (lord, who remembers pagers any more?) and I stopped at the store to pick up some cigarettes for both of us on the way home. My backpack was in the front seat of her car & I must have forgotten to lock the car properly, because by the time I got home, I realized that my smiley-face backpack was gone. Snatched. With all my ID plus $$$ & pot. Miss Biddy carried on yelling at me about how she couldn't afford my fuckups for a solid 2 hours. Eventually she tired her self out & I just sat in the living room, crying in silent devastation.
.I thought about it. Prayed about it. & then I made my choice. I went to the stash box & took half the money & product, packed enough clothes for a few days, & headed over to stay with my friend Swervella, leaving a note that basically said, "This is all over between us. I can't take this any more. You are mean and greedy and I'm tired of paying for everything and it never being good enough. I'm taking half of what was in the box & I don't expect to hear from you again."
Swervella let me stay there, and of course old girl showed up on his front porch the following morning, at the crack of 11, crying and begging me to talk to her, to not abandon her, to keep being her roommate, etc etc etc. I went to the house with her and I explained how I felt. How I had been paying bills that weren't mine to pay and constantly being demeaned & yelled at (often in front of our friends) and she tried to justify this or that and I think she must have realized that she wasn't going to get what she wanted & she finally just said, "Sam, I need you to tell me that it's over, that I'm just too much of a nightmare to live with."
The fact is that not only was she a nightmare, she was giving me nightmares, I often woke up screaming at her to stop yelling at me already, so I told her what she asked me to say.
Within a month, I had legally earned enough $$ with a little help from Swervella to get my own place and I tried to be civil with Miss Biddy, at least civil enough to get her to front me one last bit of pot & then tell her that I wasn't paying later on because I had paid more than enough of her bills. She was living on someone else's couch & really didn't appreciate what I had to say about the situation, but there you have it. This would have been in the late summer/early fall of 1999. Last I heard, she had moved back to Larose or Cutoff or some place like that with this guy who liked fat girls around early 2000.
Well, you'll never guess who showed up working at the drinks booth at the Freret Market last month. Yep, Big Bad Biddy, looking bad. All haggard in the face & fat in the waist & I wasn't sure it was her at first, but I called her name as she passed by my stall, she stopped, we talked...civilly. There was no hugging. Just a sort of mutual "How've you been" "Good" sort of a thing. She asked if my scarves were knit or crochet. I told her knit, and gave her one of my Witty Knitter business cards. She never came into my booth. She said, "well, I wish you luck with it." I said, "Likewise." and that was all we had to say to each other.
A part of me rejoiced at how bad she looks. I admit it. To say Miss Biddy is in her mid-40s now, she looks closer to her late 50s-early 60s. Bad highlights on her already stringy hair. But I don't know, the joy has kind of gone out of it. It's just sad. She was never going to be Angelina Jolie or some other sex symbol but Wow. It makes me even gladder that I didn't follow her down that twisted path she was guiding me on.
I learned a lot of things from living with her & every day since I got my MA, I try to do things to avoid the Biddy-ness. Like I feel it creep up on me if I'm inactive for too long, I'm very wary of days when I just wanna sit around on the couch and bitch, or if I start to feel like I'm the victim of circumstances and not a participant in my own life. It's not easy though. Sometimes it just seems so much easier just to sit around and wish for better things and justify bad behavior but really it's not. Really it just leads to regrets and recriminations and who has the energy for all that?
I have been thinking a lot about this lately, as I find myself at (yet another) crossroads. Since this thing at IHSNO doesn't seem to be working out, I made some phone calls yesterday & found out that I am able to go back to working at the med skool as a Standardized Patient and that the restaurant where I have been doing my guest-star stuff is looking for actual staff, so that is how I will spend this semester, and probably the summer. I have also decided to apply to Tulane's PhD in French program for the Fall. Hopefully I will be able to do some tutoring to make a little extra $$ as well. I am trying not to look at this as doing more of the same, but rather as doing things I don't neccessarily want to do now so I can do what I want to do later.
Wish me Luck!!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
How I became the Bitter Knitter....
I was going to write this great blog about how so many people came to the market & how I made this amazing fortune. Unfortunately, only 4 people came to see me at the market, & only 1 of them actually purchased anything. Of the remaining 3, one was my ride home, Matty Whips. Thanks so much to my fave straight couple (insofar as my heterophobia will permit), Paul von Munchausen & Sassy Kelsey for keeping my spirits up!
I made one other sale & that (plus the previous sale) covered the cost of my new tent, if not the booth rental fee, so by the time I was riding home, the bitterness pretty much grabbed hold. I couldn't even make it out of the house for a free Katey Redd show at the Healing Center! Now you know that is bad.
The bitterness kinda had me by the throat thru the weekend. I was angry & resentful & depressed & just feeling all crossed up until I finally let it just explode all over the blog.
Working with kids is bringing up all sorts of stuff from my tragic childhood & it is dangerous to combine this with 2 dismal Art Market failures...
Today, however, a NORTA mishap brought back my joy. I missed 1 Magazine bus & so didn't arrive at Canal St until 4:10 (leaving me 4 minutes to get from Magazine St to N. Rampart to catch the Franklin bus home. Needless to say, I saw the bus from about 2 blocks away & when I made it to N. Rampart, it was long gone. Ever resourceful, I took the Canal Streetcar to catch the Broad St Bus. Well, after I got off the streetcar I sat down at the bench at the Broad bus stop & struck up a conversation with an older black lady sitting next to me, the way you do. Well, the way I do. We shared stories of NORTA glam, frustration with dealing with City Hall, and realized we were both going the same way, for the same reason. We just had a lovely chat. Then the bus came. It was PACKED. Someone was kind enough to give up their seat to my newfound friend & she offered to hold my bag while I was standing. Right after that, some1 got off & offered me their seat, so I sat behind Miss Lady and we chatted a bit more & then she started to walk up to the front of the bus (we were in the back) & I realized that we were both getting off at the same stop. Well, lo & behold, my new friend, Miss Lorraine, lives right at the corner of Painters St & Gentilly Blvd (AKA less that 1.5 blox from my house). We chatted a bit more as I walked her to her door, that's when we introduced ourselves.
I couldn't stop smiling as I walked away. Writing this makes me realize that life is like this sometimes, even though you think you are having to take a big detour & go out of your way, along the way you find treasures that have been at your feet the whole time.
I hope that sounds profound...I feel profoundly grateful. Hopeful once more. Glad I just paid the entry fees for the Bayou Road Brewhaha this weekend & feeling confident that things will turn up, just as long as I keep moving & finding new ways to solve problems.
Thanks for reading!
I made one other sale & that (plus the previous sale) covered the cost of my new tent, if not the booth rental fee, so by the time I was riding home, the bitterness pretty much grabbed hold. I couldn't even make it out of the house for a free Katey Redd show at the Healing Center! Now you know that is bad.
The bitterness kinda had me by the throat thru the weekend. I was angry & resentful & depressed & just feeling all crossed up until I finally let it just explode all over the blog.
Working with kids is bringing up all sorts of stuff from my tragic childhood & it is dangerous to combine this with 2 dismal Art Market failures...
Today, however, a NORTA mishap brought back my joy. I missed 1 Magazine bus & so didn't arrive at Canal St until 4:10 (leaving me 4 minutes to get from Magazine St to N. Rampart to catch the Franklin bus home. Needless to say, I saw the bus from about 2 blocks away & when I made it to N. Rampart, it was long gone. Ever resourceful, I took the Canal Streetcar to catch the Broad St Bus. Well, after I got off the streetcar I sat down at the bench at the Broad bus stop & struck up a conversation with an older black lady sitting next to me, the way you do. Well, the way I do. We shared stories of NORTA glam, frustration with dealing with City Hall, and realized we were both going the same way, for the same reason. We just had a lovely chat. Then the bus came. It was PACKED. Someone was kind enough to give up their seat to my newfound friend & she offered to hold my bag while I was standing. Right after that, some1 got off & offered me their seat, so I sat behind Miss Lady and we chatted a bit more & then she started to walk up to the front of the bus (we were in the back) & I realized that we were both getting off at the same stop. Well, lo & behold, my new friend, Miss Lorraine, lives right at the corner of Painters St & Gentilly Blvd (AKA less that 1.5 blox from my house). We chatted a bit more as I walked her to her door, that's when we introduced ourselves.
I couldn't stop smiling as I walked away. Writing this makes me realize that life is like this sometimes, even though you think you are having to take a big detour & go out of your way, along the way you find treasures that have been at your feet the whole time.
I hope that sounds profound...I feel profoundly grateful. Hopeful once more. Glad I just paid the entry fees for the Bayou Road Brewhaha this weekend & feeling confident that things will turn up, just as long as I keep moving & finding new ways to solve problems.
Thanks for reading!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)