Monday, November 25, 2013

From Across the Street

I know, I know.
For sometime now, this blog has failed to be the funny reprieve it was circa 2009-2010 & parts of 2011.
I've either been not writing or just coming around to write things that are sort of depressing.

&, I'm sorry.
& I figure you guys deserve a palate cleanser, compliments of the comedic stylings of Solo.

The other day, Solo made cups of hot chocolate for us & decided that one packet of marshmallows was not enough for his hot cocoa, so he used two.

& so, he's eying this cup of cocoa & he says,
"People be saying they marshmallow lovers, but they be on that wannabe shit. THIS that real shit right here. Your bitch can see this from across the street."

I don't know, it cracked me up.


"And tell me where's your hiding place?
I'm worried I'll forget your face,
& I've asked everyone. 
I'm beginning to think I imagined you all along.
I elongated my lift home,
yeah, I let him go the long way 'round.
I smelled your scent on the seatbelt and kept my shortcuts to myself."

The Problem In Front of You

"Miss Carolyn Krafft seriously needed to pluck her eyebrows. Her outfit looked like it was picked out by a blind Sunday School teacher, and she had some 99-cent lip gloss on her snaggletooth. And that's when I realized; making fun of Caroline Krafft wouldn't stop her from beating me in this contest. Calling somebody else fat won't make you any skinnier. Calling someone stupid doesn't make you any smarter. And ruining Regina George's life definitely didn't make me any happier. All you can do in life is try to solve the problem in front of you."
--Tina Fey, Mean Girls. 

Welcome back, porn watchers!

If you're a loyal reader (& anything like my real life friends), you're probably wondering how much longer I'll continue to dwell on this whole Crane fiasco. Well, fuck you. 

So, a couple of posts ago,  I may or may not have taken a shot at Crane's lady du jour (& by calling her that, I'm putting a fun/bitter spin on the fact that he's probably going to marry her because that's how life is). & I'm not particularly proud of myself. Actually, that's an understatement. I'm pretty appalled with my behavior. I like to imagine that I'm not this horrible shit talker but I'm having to confront the fact that I'm actually horrible, not just because I talk shit but because...I just am. 

The thing about her is that (I've done sufficient internet lurking to say with confidence) she's amazing. & talking shit about her didn't make me prettier.
It didn't make Crane come running back or change his mind about her.
It didn't make her any less amazing.

All it actually did was highlight my own bitterness and insecurity and pettiness. & probably, because I know he knows my URL, it just reassured Crane that I am horrible & that he was right.

& I could just delete that thing I said but the damage is done, I won't pretend like I'm better than that. I'm clearly not. 

So the problem in front of me is this:
I'm immature. 
& if I want to be with someone like Crane, I need to be someone worthy of being with someone like him. 
& if I want to not be heartbroken in the future, I need to not date (Read: fall miserably in love with) unavailable men. 

I want to be honest: I will still be an awful person tomorrow. And the day after. 
Probably far into the foreseeable future.
But now I can see the kind of person I want/need to be & (again) in the words of Tina Fey, for she is my Goddess Divine, "I want to go to there."

Sunday, November 24, 2013


Tonight, I lit a yahrzeit candle for the woman who raised my mother, my great great aunt, Betty.

Betty was, without a contender, the most glamorous "every woman" I knew.
She adored Elizabeth Taylor and when Elizabeth decided to age with grace and let her hair go snow white, so did Betty.
Betty was modest, both in temperament and finances, but she took great care of what she did have and every outfit she wore was carefully chosen and executed with grace.
Betty loved things that captured you; crimson red, leopard print, White Diamonds perfume, and things that shimmered. As a teenager, when my mother and I would visit Betty, she'd always compliment my hoop earrings (which was the ONLY kind of earring I could be bothered to wear between the ages of 14 & 17). I can't remember exactly how old I was when I resolved to buy her a pair of hoops for Christmas but I remember looking for a pair similar to mine, but smaller. When she unwrapped them that Christmas, she told me she loved them but that they were too small.
& that was Betty--she wasn't afraid to be gaudy, she wasn't afraid to be bold.

Even though this memory is the one that comes to mind most often when I think of her, what I'll remember Betty most for is her beautiful heart.
Betty was a dedicated mother--to her own son, to my mother. She went out of her way to provide for her family by any means necessary.
She wasn't afraid to laugh at herself. One of her favorite stories to tell was about how she once caught a glimpse of her ear in the mirror and rushed to the emergency room because she thought something was growing in her ear canal. The doctor took a look and found that it was just q-tip cotton. She loved that story and she could never tell it without laughing the whole way through.
Despite the fact that she didn't have much and that we'd protest, Betty always saved up to send money to my brother and I for Christmas and birthdays. Sometimes, she'd send it in quarters and we'd know how much love went into that gesture.
I can't think of a single mean thing I've ever heard her say, I doubt any such words were ever spoken by her.

When I got the news of her passing, for a moment I thought that the world would be a lesser place without her presence. But the more that I thought about it, I realized how amazing it is that someone like her was with us, and how amazing it is that I knew her and loved her and that she loved me back. I realized that people like her are magic here on earth.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

A Million Tiny Things

"It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, meant we were supposed to be together...& I knew it. I knew it the first time I touched her. It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known. I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like magic."

--Sleepless in Seattle

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Love is a Laserquest

"& do you still think love is a laserquest
or do you take it all more seriously?
I've tried to ask you this in some daydreams that I've had
but you're always busy being make-believe.
& do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you're there,
or has somebody's goodnight kisses got that covered?
When I'm not being honest, I pretend that you were just some lover."

Another Thing I've Stolen from Elizabeth Gilbert

"If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog’s money, my dog’s time—everything. If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain, I will assume for you all your debts (in every definition of the word), I will protect you from your own insecurity, I will project upon you all sorts of good qualities that you have never actually cultivated in yourself..."
--Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love.

I'm exactly this way & I don't necessarily think of it as a bad thing or something to be ashamed of, all except for that last idea. "I will project upon you all sorts of good qualities that you have never actually cultivated in yourself..."

Having spent the majority of my day obsessively analyzing (and over analyzing) exactly what happened last night & talking to anyone who would listen about it, literally, from the moment I woke up this morning, I realized just how guilty I am of projecting things that aren't there onto those I love.

& so, since I did a shitty job of catching everyone (& when I say everyone, I'm talking directly to the internet strangers being referred here from amateur pornography sites--a fact that I discovered today after reviewing this blog's traffic sources) up on what actually happened to spurn that first post last night.

Crane told me early on that he had to be with someone who is also Indian...because he's Indian, something I've never expressly stated on this blog. & yes, I gave a shit about this rule because I knew it meant that there was a limit to where things go between us. & I knew there was a possibility that he could meet someone who he could actually see a future with and who he might want to pursue.

So, I should not have been surprised when this very thing did, in fact, happen.

And yet, I was.

A month ago, Crane broke things off, saying that it would be better to end it before we became any more invested. It happened suddenly as part of an ordinary conversation and something didn't feel right. & while the truth about what has happening felt like it was playing out right in front me, I didn't want to believe it.

Crane and I had agreed that if someone new ever came along while we were involved, we would be honest with each other about it. & this is where that whole projection thing comes in; though there were people who I could have been interested in, I always weighed them against Crane, & there was no one I wanted to see more than I wanted to continue seeing him. Had there been someone else, I would have been honest about it because I wouldn't want to surprise him if things did work out or if my feelings began to shift.

& of course, I assumed that Crane felt this way as well.

& of course, I was wrong. In facing this disappointment, it's easy to be upset with Crane, but equally easy to be upset with myself. Because I made it up; he never felt how I did. Along with this, I made up things about Crane & the kind of person he is that aren't true.

I may have liked Crane so much as to forsake all other suitors, I may have thought that he was someone I could have belonged to. But these things were easy to think because I was literally crafting the man I want & then throwing these ideas onto Crane. & the result is that I fell for this wholly fictionalized version of Crane.

Which sounds mean. & sort of is.
Because Crane is a good guy. A really good guy.
& I would have been lucky to have him.
I guess I was.

But what I'm getting at is that the person I imagined Crane was, was someone who felt a certain way about me. He was someone who wouldn't have been too scared of confrontation to tell me that they met someone. He was someone who would have trusted my emotional maturity enough to know that I would have been disappointed but not angry, that I still could have pulled it together enough to wish him well. Someone who didn't think that my own feelings were something he needed to protect me from.
& Crane didn't live up to the person I'd imagined but that's not his fault, it's my own.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Darn that Dream.

"Darn that dream & bless it, too;
Without that dream, I never would have you.
But it haunts me & it won't come true.
Oh darn that dream."

Just so you all know, I hate the slideshows people put to these things. They make me feel awkward. Whatever.

Wholly Underrated

I've often been quick to discount him, but Solo's a good person.

I've sort of been in a weird place lately & Solo's been a patient friend and listener of things he probably had hoped to never have to listen to.

& he does other cool stuff like dragging me out of my place when I just want to lay in my pajamas and feel sorry for myself or pretending not to notice that I ate three lemon bars for lunch, as I am wont to do.

A couple of weeks ago, on a night where I was feeling particularly horrible, Solo came over & was determined to get me out of the house. & so I resentfully obliged him. He parks the car on this hill and we're at Mt. Bonnell.

Mt. Bonnell overlooks a long river on one side, and on the other the Austin skyline. I'd been there years before with Flintstone and remembered a path that lead to a picnic table facing the skyline. Solo climbed up onto the table top and then turned to help me up.

The moment itself was crisp; the air was dry, the stars were out, windows in homes on the other side of the river seemed like gems from here, and the skyline glittered.

I felt lucky for the first time in a while. I felt grateful to be there in that moment, surrounded by so much to take in & with a friend who cared enough to make me put on pants, brush my hair, and go see it. And also, in the larger sense, happy to finally be in Austin living around the corner from my brother and blocks away from my mother's synagogue.

When I left my first job, my boss took a little jab at me by saying, "you seem really tethered to Texas. My professional advice is that you spend some time abroad. The world is bigger than Texas."

& if I over-look the implication that he thinks I'm a hick, I just sort of laugh about it. I knew, from the time I was 15 and clipped an article about Austin's Cherrywood neighborhood from a magazine, that I wanted to be in Austin. & of course I intend to travel (when I get my money right), but I never imagined myself anywhere but here. Not everyone can say they love the place they live, but I can. Who's to say that will never change? But for right now, I'm exactly where I've always wanted to be.

Well, sort of.

But anyway, so Solo and I are standing on top of this table and we're looking out at the skyline and I feel him put his arms around me. I felt like I was having this major life moment and I pulled out my phone to snap a few pictures of the skyline when Solo says, "You know, you don't HAVE to Instagram everything."

Brand New

"This here is something personal,
I highly doubt this feeling is reversible.
Knowledge is pain & that is why it hurts to know
That you intend to hide & put mistakes aside
So I don't ever question you."

I forgot that in 2009, this song (this whole mixtape, but mostly this song) was my everything.
I don't give a shit. I am one of those obnoxious people who loves Drake. Judge me. 

A girl at heart.

I want so much to be an adult and to be able to censor myself & take the high road.

But tonight, I sat down & had an awful conversation with you and my emotions were running rampant & I thought to myself (& also outloud), "this is what dying feels like." 

& then it was done.
& I still don't feel emotionally satisfied by all of it. The immature, petty, rude girl inside of me is prodding me. & since I almost cried at the bar when the dj played radiohead's "creep," I must oblige her. 

Your mom is xenophobic & you are an enabler. 
That thing you do during sex is weird and selfish. 
Your new girl has a rat face. *
In conclusion, kindly go fuck yourself. 

*after a day, I realized that was really fucking mean & not necessarily true & shallow & horrible & I'm sure she's amazing. So I take that back.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Should you ever stumble upon this blog

There are a million small things that happen all the time & I always think to text you about it but I stop myself. Sometimes it feels like I'm looking for an excuse to talk to you & the truth is, I miss talking to you everyday. 
Every arctic monkeys song reminds me of you lately. Which is unfortunate because they're my favorite band, but may also be the reason why I've fallen even more in love with their music. 
Now everywhere I go it seems I run into beautiful brown couples. He's wearing a soccer jersey, she's a classic beauty with her hair pinned back. Somewhere not far behind them trails one of their mothers, wrangling a rambunctious small child. & I think of you, every time. I wonder if the day will come when I'll round an aisle in a grocery store and run into you and your family. I wonder whether I'll be happy for you or if I'll still be bitter that it wasn't & never could have been me. 
I think the worst thing is all the things I never got to ask you. The things about you I'll never know. 

Friday, November 1, 2013

An underdog

I think that I'm someone who usually strikes out the first time I'm up to bat. 
I once got a tattoo in Arabic. I was in my early twenties and the fear of misspelling or getting a completely different word from that intended in a language I'd never heard let alone spoken, was not a real fear for me. 
So, I'm talking about this tattoo with a friend. Her computer is significantly older. I get the word, "freedom" off of google translate, & somewhere between moving the word onto a document so I could print it & get it to a tattoo shop, something went wrong. 
For nearly two weeks, I had "divorce" tattooed on me (it's also a delightful irony that the difference between divorce and freedom in Arabic is one character). But I eventually realized something was wrong & got it fixed. 
My first year in law school, I failed my first exam. & if you've never been to law school, the traditional experience is that you get one exam in each class per semester. So this was a big fucking deal. On top of that, my other scores weren't exactly home runs, either (see, baseball simile still in effect!). So, it was suggested by one of my school's deans that I drop out. Having once spent a weekend in jail, I hope you'll understand the gravity of the following statement: this was the shittiest feeling, ever. 
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I didn't pass my bar exam. 
You know that 15 hour, 3 day exam waiting for everyone at the end of law school? The test that determines whether you'll be an attorney or just a law grad for at least another 6 months? Yeah, that fucking test. I failed it. 
& having spent three months studying for it & another three months waiting for results, I'm going to go ahead and say that this was a crushing disappointment. & I'm not going to dress it up as something it's not because it does suck. But it's not the worst thing to happen to me & it's not the worse thing that will ever happen. It's just a shitty thing that happened & a shitty thing I have to move forward from. 
Sometimes it feels so awful to admit to myself that it happened. It's crazy to see my friends go from being clerks to attorneys & celebrate. I feel like I disappointed them. I feel like they're afraid to be proud of themselves because they don't want to remind me that I didn't make it. But I'm so proud of them and happy for them & excited that they can actually start their careers now. 

& so, I guess I'll keep being the kind of person who strikes out but the cool thing is, a victory is always that much sweeter when the victor comes up from behind. It's a better story.  Everyone loves an underdog.