31 - Month One Ends!

I think part of the reason I’ve chosen to do this blog experiment is because I feel as though this last year has really been one of change and transition. One in which my level of sanity and my emotional tenacity has been tested.
I don’t know that I have done all that well. People have faced much, much worse and done far better. But I suppose it is unfair for me to compare myself to other people. We’re all different and we all face the challenges of life as we are given them with what we have available at that particular moment. I’m doing what I can right now which for someone else may seem a feeble attempt but for me may in fact be a major accomplishment.
I’m going to accept that. Because until I do there is no way for me to move forward with any fluidity. No way for me to develop as a person or as an artist.
Yes I said artist.
In spite of chastising myself a few posts back for having the “audacity” to call myself such, I am EMBRACING it today. On this last day of the first month in to this experiment I need to start allowing myself to believe in the person I am and the potential I have. I need to STOP talking myself down. There are plenty of people out there who will be all too willing to do that for me. I am an artist and my art takes many forms and is evolving. I’m figuring it out and I’m excited about where it will take me.
I came to this realization as I watched, of all things, a semi-final match of the Australian Open. I’m a huge tennis fan and I just adore Nadal (of course I’ve ALWAYS wanted a young Spanish lover on the side and he would do just nicely…but I digress ;P ). In any case I watched the match between Verdasco and Nadal and it was just an incredible quality of match. Each man fought, focused, refocused and battled internal and external elements with such an intensity and flair and passion that it absolutely moved me. It went beyond athletics and into another realm. They were artists. Each stroke, each move was an expression and it was beautiful.
Art and artists take many forms. When you pour your heart and your soul and your mind into something, authentically, honestly and openly…I don’t know…to me that’s art.
So as I continue to face the challenges and anxiety of a life in transition and change I’m making a promise to myself that I will approach my photography, my performance, my day to day living, as an artist. I will look for my inspiration in unlikely places and unexpected sources. I will pour my heart and soul and mind into that which I love honestly and openly…authentically.

30

From the Village Voice blog:

"Last week we told you that the gate had been down a long time on the Holiday Cocktail Lounge and it didn't look like it was coming back up. But this weekend EV Grieve found a sign at the St. Mark's Place landmark announcing that the bar would open at 5 p.m. Saturday. Jeremiah's Vanishing New York followed up and found that the owner is semi-retiring and the bar will henceforth be open Fridays and Saturdays only, from 5 p.m. to 1 a.m. That's not too promising, so if you want to get your last orders in, you'd better go soon."

29

"time, it swallows everything

from the mighty to the meager thing

it's as dark as it is comforting

to play along"

- from "What's Been Going On" by Amos Lee

28

As a child in the 70’s and 80’s I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.

So many wonderful memories are associated with those times and often the smallest of details will bring to mind those happy feelings. A scent of freshly cleaned clothing coming from a dry cleaner/launderette, newly brewed coffee, spaghetti sauce cooking or even moth balls. The sounds of crickets, a bus going up the street or a baseball game on the radio on a summer evening all bring me back to my childhood with my grandparents.

One of the biggest visual sense memories for me, associating with my mom’s parents, has been Melmac melamine/rattan tumblers dating from sometime in the 1950’s or 1960’s.

They had this amazingly colorful set of cups that I always adored. I recall the adults drinking iced coffee in them while my cousins and I had some sort of juice or soda as we all sat on the porch during the summer. Or the time Nana taught me how to play poker when I was about 10 while we both sipped our drinks from these plastic cups. They made already happy moments so much more vibrant with their brilliant colors and odd but cool basket weave trapped between the outside clear plastic and the inside melamine.

A few years back I remember feeling so sad to know that possibly only a couple of them survived the trip from my grandparents house to the apartment they move into. I was thrilled to get one when Nana found it a couple of years later. When she passed in April and we cleaned out her apartment I got the other one that was left. Just the other day, while in my favorite vintage shop I found a set of little sundae cups of the same line and just HAD to have them. Not very expensive and as they were mass produced (and by some accounts given away for free on milk routes in some parts of the country) not worth much but honestly the joy, happiness and inspiration I get just from seeing them is invaluable and making a collector out of me.

27

DUST OF SNOW (Robert Frost)

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued

26

"When you're smiling, when you're smiling...the whole world smiles with you.

When you're laughing, when you're laughing...the sun comes shining through."

- as done by either Louis Armstrong or Judy Garland (I'll take either)

25

I'm totally craving cupcakes today. And note the plural. Like I want a dozen cupcakes in front of me this very moment.

In fact I would go so far as to say that I would gladly roll around naked in a room full of cupcakes were the opportunity present itself.

As such I felt the occasion deserved TWO photographs.

24

I've been truly struggling to find inspiration this week. Obviously it's because I am not as open to it as I was earlier this month.

Depression being what it is, self-doubt having the power that it does and the mish-mash of anger, jealousy and fear have this effect on me. For some artists (not that I have the audacity to call myself an artist, mind you, but for the sake of this post let me use the word) this is where the best of their work comes from. In fact for some were it not for their depression or the misery of their circumstances (whether perceived, created by self or forced upon by outside) it has been argued that these artists would not create or have created what they have.

I don't know about that...maybe van Gogh (I like his work but not one of my favorites anyway probably one of the best examples of a depressed artist) would have created greater works had treatment been available for his depression. No matter, I'm digressing here...

The point is that depression, even in its mildest form in me, is the antithesis of creativity. I TRY to find inspiration. I TRY to see the details and appreciate the beauty but I simply cannot. I don't want to. I close down to it.

I had a huge blowout with my boss at the day job yesterday as a result of just having had ENOUGH. I have been pushed around there for so long and once again something was asked of me that was completely unfair and unreasonable and I stood up for myself and he did not like it. In the state I've been in this week I could not appreciate the beauty in not allowing myself to be trampled again and instead felt sick to my stomach and bad.

If I hadn't been in a "valley" this week I think I would have felt empowered. Perhaps even INSPIRED.

Today, after a decent night of sleep and some socializing last night (which was actually quite difficult and awkward but I managed to converse with a couple of very interesting people anyway), I am feeling better. I spent the afternoon on my own exploring the flea market on 25th, a couple of goodwill shops and stopping in to my favorite vintage shop, Pippin in Chelsea and taking some photos before heading to the gym for a really nice workout.

I came up with a fun idea for a new project that I'm really excited about as a result.

I'm opening back up.

23

Rough afternoon as follows the week. But it is over.

We've just been to a chamber music concert, my first, our friend played a Debussey piece (it was beautiful!) and are now on our way to Williamsburg for a party.

It was a good experience and a nice way to end an otherwise not so nice day and week.

Here's to weekends and better days!

22

I wasn't very strong yesterday.

The truth is that I haven't been terribly strong at all the last few days. Depression will do that...sneak up on you and steal the strength you work to develop.

Those old ghosts of mine, the ones I have been attempting to live peacefully with, have had the run of the house!! Something from my past set me off into a tailspin and I let it happen.

It's ok. There will always be days like that for me. And the beauty is that I am strong enough to withstand them. I'm not great today but I'm better.

I've got a lot of work to do in reconciling the expectations I HAD of myself versus what I have actually accomplished. It's not a unique struggle but for each of us there are unique circumstances that are the foundation for the struggle. I'm trying to identify all of mine to varying degrees of success.

I realized just this morning in the shower that there was an approach I hadn't even considered to one of those things from the past that seems to have ruled the decisions I've made in my adult life. I don't want to talk about it now because I am still swishing it around the noggin but it's fresh and that in and of itself may be just the thing I need. I'll probably get around to taling more about it in the weeks and months to come. It's gonna get messy in here, children!!!!

Sometimes in order to create dreams, goals and hopes for the present and future we need to let go of the ones from the past. It is difficult to accomplish but the value in accomplishing it is immeasurable.

21

There are some days, in spite of your best efforts, when it's hard not to view yourself as a complete failure.

Seriously.

I have nothing today but a jumbled mess of emotion and anger and regret.

20

My original intention was to be there in person. Sadly that did not materialize.

But even watching it on a big screen in real time was an emotional moment. The President did not disappoint and the First Lady, in my opinion, looked fresh and brilliant in her Isabel Toledo/J Crew outfit.

I thought Elizabeth Alexander's poem was just wonderful, folksy and strong enough to be exactly appropriate for this occasion. I've reprinted it below thanks to the NY Times.

NOW.

Let's fast forward through the celebrity fuck fest that are the Balls and get down to the long process of fixing the world!!! Seriously...he's not the saviour but I do have faith and hope that this is a chance at forging a new world.

Let's hope no one fucks it up.

Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

19

Today I feel as though I am living in a giant snowglobe.

The snow is falling just softly and slowly enough to create a beautiful illusion.

And as the snow falls, creating that illusion, I catch snow on my tongue for the first time in years.

It reminds me of why I have always felt that there is magic in a snowflake.

18

A long while back my grandmother gave me a book that had belonged to her father. The story was called "Beautiful Joe". It was the autobiography of an abused dog that had been rescued and was, in 1893, a groundbreaking attempt to bring worldwide attention to the cause of animal cruelty.

As I share the love of animals that my grandmother and her parents, really of my entire family, I have always treasured the story and the book.

The book is quite fragile and tattered but I opened it today because I was trying to remember a section from the preface. I really like what it has to say and it is something I think is just as valuable today. The language may be a bit dated but the sentiment is very clear:

"Kindness to the animal kingdom is the first, or a first principle in the growth of true philanthropy. Young Lincoln once waded across a half-frozen river to rescue a dog, and stopped in a walk with a statesman to put back a bird that had fallen out of its nest. Such a heart was trained to be a leader of men, and to be crucified for a cause. The conscience that runs to the call of an animal in distress is girding itself with power..."

Anyway that is what I was thinking of this morning as I walked Kiawah along the quiet sidewalk with flecks of snowing dropping softly around us.

17

I've been having really vivid, weird and often disturbing dreams as of late. Some include or are about people I know and I don't even want to share it with them because they are so vivid that they feel like premonitions even though I know they aren't.

Likely they are as a result of this very blog experiment. I'm more aware of not only my surroundings but also of myself. I'm tapping more and more into my fears, desires and hopes in a way that is unfamiliar to me.

I don't know how to process it yet and I'm guessing that is where the dreams come into play.

This blog is not an entirely comfortable or pleasant process and I find myself instinctively turning away and then forcing myself to turn back each day.

When I first started working out in the gym, back when I was about seventeen, I remember the pain and the nausea, the vomitting, after those first few workouts. It was horrible and I seriously thought about quitting. Who needs that?

But I didn't.

And over time I became stronger and my body functioned better and I adapted. Eventually muscle developed and over time, a long, long time, the appearance of my body also changed.

I think this is the same thing. I have to ride this part out because in the end...it will be sooooo worth the pain.

Time To Go To Sleep - New Buffalo

Time to go to sleep
Just lay back (just lay back)
And relax

Time to close your eyes
Just lay back (just lay back)

And relax
On the seventh floorI can see it, it's a swimming pool
But it looks like a river
Saturday, what a day

I'm not lonely but I'm all alone

I'm trying to go to sleep

But I can't go to sleep

I lie awake with coloured lights and ideas

Stacked up high

Where's the diamond in my messy mind

Underneath the streetlight

You see who I am

It lights up the patterns and games

And incomplete sounds and new names

Saturday, what a day

I'm not lonely but I'm all alone

I'm trying to go to sleep

But I can't go to sleep

I lie awake with coloured lights and ideas

Stacked up high

Where's the diamond in my messy mind

I'm trying to go to sleep

I lie awake with coloured lights and ideas

Stacked up high

Where's the diamond in my messy mind

Coloured lights and ideas stacked up high

Where's the diamond in my messy mind

16

“To create, one must first question everything.”

- Eileen Gray

15

I hadn't planned on much ranting in here and to be sure I won't be doing a lot of it along the way. But the snow blinding my glasses and the early stages of frostbite on my nose from walking to work this morning prompted some fire up in the belly and all it needed was a little gasoline to make it ALL go up.

"Be a great employee first. When it is the right moment to share with a colleague that you are gay, do so in a way that is invested in their comfort level and in their ability to continue to have a good relationship with you."

This quote comes from an executive in giving advice in a video aimed at LGBT professionals looking to advance.

Enter Gasoline.

Yet another reason why I loathe the corporate world and why I will never look to advance beyond where I am now (and am ok with that).

WHY must it always be that we, as GLBT citizens, are searching for ways to make other people comfortable? We live in a society that thinks nothing of making us uncomfortable from the day we are born until the day we die from its marriage laws to snickers or sideway glances when we show affection in public. Why is it that we have to be the ones to make everyone else feel good??? What about OUR comfort levels? How about that?

I understand that the executive above was giving advice for professionals looking to navigate a traditionally conservative landscape and I also get that the executive above says "invested" meaning that one takes into consideration where the other person is coming from but it pisses me off because where is the video for the het professional telling THEM to be invested in their LGBT colleague's level of comfort?

I'll never forget the time that I sat down with a new boss here for our first meeting. Literally the first words out of his mouth were:

"I want you to know that first and foremost I am a Christian. It is the most important thing to me and how I govern my life. You should know that."

I use quotes because I remember the conversation so clearly. It was nearly 7 years ago but I remember it as though it happened yesterday. I was incredibly uncomfortable. I have been out since I arrived at the company and had in fact introduced my partner to the group prior to this and this person had been at that offsite. He knew I was gay. So what about considering MY comfort level?

And while I am on this topic and already heated…what about Melissa Etheridge's commentary on the Rick Warren situation (I know I am going BACK now but as Inaugural Day approaches I think it is still fairly current)?

"Maybe in our anger, as we consider marches and boycotts, perhaps we can consider stretching out our hands. Maybe instead of marching on his church, we can show up en mass and volunteer for one of the many organizations affiliated with his church that work for HIV/AIDS causes all around the world.Maybe if they get to know us, they won't fear us."

A couple of things immediately come to mind.

Once again it becomes US having to convince people that we are "ok" and not to be feared. Allay everyone's "concerns" that we are not horrible (which by the way there are IN FACT horrible GLBT people that SHOULD be feared as much as there are in any group in society, but I digress, although it can be argued that this is also a part of the point I am making in my rant).

I acknowledge that taking the high road is often the most intelligent and effective way at navigating relationships but there are times, and in my opinion those times are NOW, when taking the high road is just not going to cut it. These are times to say enough is enough and YOU are going to do some of the work and we're going to meet half way for a change! We're all going to share in the "discomfort" so that we can get to a better society for everyone who contributes to it.

Two, they already DO know us!! We live in their communities and work in their offices and shop in their markets and in all likelihood we're part of their family (sorry to disappoint you, Sen. Inhofe). We DO volunteer ( in fact I recall reading that we volunteer in greater numbers, comparatively speaking, than the general population – I'll try to find the link) – maybe not as visibly in his organization but certainly throughout communities and organizations across the country and throughout the world.

We are already there!

So instead why not ask that THEY (to quote the great Judy Garland – "whomever THEY are") make an attempt to get to know US and figure out on their own that all the hate and fear is based in nothing but prejudice that has evolved from a culture that wants to control anything outside of what has been defined as "normal" and not in any real and concrete, rational reason.

I never want to lose concern for other's well-being, feelings and rights but I am also not interested in continually sacrificing my own for the "comfort" of others. Why should I or any of us? When we live in a world where Rick Warren calls us "not natural" and the Vatican releases a "report", just today, claiming to have almost eradicated homosexual behaviour among students and directs evaluaters to look for evidence of homosexuality in their schools.

Where is the evidence that they are willing to do ANYTHING to encourage their flock to perhaps meet us halfway????????

I decided to close today with three quotes that I have loved since the first time I read them a long time back. All are from Frederick Douglass, an abolitionist, activist and writer, amongst other things.

One of the great men in our history in my opinion.

"Power concedes nothing without demand. It never has and never will. Show me the exact amount of wrong and injustices that are visited upon a person and I will show you the exact amount of words endured by these people."

"It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake."

"Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground."

14

You cant always get what you want

You cant always get what you want

You cant always get what you want

But if you try sometimes

You just might find

You just might find

You get what you need

- The Rolling Stones

13

I exchanged emails with a good friend today and the topic of high school came up. It was in the context of coming to terms with things that happen in your life or a particular time you feel haunted by.

I realized, only as I spoke to her, that I would never put to rest certain things from my past or be able to alter expectations of my younger self that I have yet to live up to.
Those things that I use as the basis of so much self-inflicted pain.

They are my living ghosts.

And they exist within me although they do not posses me.

Everyone has them though the degree of power and the severity of the pain or discomfort is unique to each person.

I do not believe that I can beat them or exorcise them. All that I can do is to learn to live with them while at the same time finding a path forward.

And as I sit typing this now I can safely say that is what I am doing.

12

"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. To be your own man is a hard business. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself."

- Rudyard Kipling

11

On those days where the hipsters, scenesters and sycophants are just too much to bear...you need to find something that will force a smile on your face.

10

The demon popped up today.

It’s odd because I was in a good mood this morning prior to heading out of the apartment.
But then something happened that provided a window for the demon to pop his nasty fucking head through.

I’m a useless shit. I know nothing. I am nothing.

Fuck. Fuck.

I was on my way to take some photos down by the water and then to the gym.
It was cold, freezing really, and I did NOT need or want to have that feeling in my belly. Bloating my belly like I’d eaten too much junk food…the feeling of sugar, yeast and preservatives battling in your gut. A horrible feeling. I hate it.

Anyway I carried on trying really hard to refocus on my goals for the afternoon in spite of the way I was feeling. All I really wanted to do was turn around and go home. Really wanted to do that.

Then the sharpness of the wind on my bare cheeks also made me angry. Furious to be precise. It seemed as though I might just cry.

So all of these negative emotions are whipping around inside me as the snow whipped around in squalls outside me. Oh and I had to piss really bad which was yet another variable my demon used against me, another reason to quit, give in to the demon and its accompanying swirl of depression and anger and go home to wallow.

But I didn’t turn around and go home even though my apartment was a lot closer than the water or the gym. I kept trying.

I moved on, step by step towards the water. Photos. Seagulls. Joggers. Umbrellas. Berries. Then step by step to the gym. Work out. Hot guys. Broken water fountain. Barbells. Yoga balls. Duncan Sheik and MGMT.

I lost and found myself.

I didn’t even realize until I started on my way back home that I had beaten down the demon. I chose to beat the bitch down and I was successful. Focusing on the details of each moment in the journey, although not something I consciously chose, completely changed the course of the afternoon and indeed possibly the weekend.

It feels nice to win the battle for a change. Let’s hope it’s the trend.

9

On evenings like this my great-grandmother used to say "tis a braw bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht" in her soft, thick Scottish brogue.

The moon is beautiful this evening. Look out the window.

8

We went to the Whitney today to see the Alexander Calder exhibit and the William Eggelston exhibit. I’ve been wanting to see both and since they close soon I’m glad we made it over.
I enjoyed the Calder stuff immensely, especially the sculptures. The mobiles and the drawings were fine but I’m not overly fond of that type of modern work so it had less of an impact on me.

But I am in love with Eggelston! The printing techniques create absolutely magnificent images. Totally, totally inspirational. It is everything in photography I have loved since I was a kid.

From the section of the exhibit on his work “The Democratic Forest”:
“Eggleston’s title refers to his working method: ‘I had this notion of what I called a democratic way of looking around: that nothing was more important or less important.’ Every detail, no matter how insignificant, takes on meaning.”

This approach is basically what I was referring to in my last entry.

Needless to say a chord was really struck in me.

While we were there a class of kids, probably in the 5th grade range were there. Their teacher was so enthusiastic about Calder’s work and really engaged them in discussion, never talking down to them but also not talking over their heads. I was truly impressed and if I am being honest a little envious.

Although photography has been a part of my life since I was a little kid (I took my first darkroom course in grade school and was interviewed by the 6th grade cable news about my photographs) I never learned about the academic or technical side until I moved to NYC and started educating myself (and lord do I have a LONG way to go!!!). Art in general was something to which I was never exposed or encouraged to pursue. I don’t think anyone even gave it a thought, if I’m being honest.

I’m glad that I am now doing it on my own but I wonder, had I been involved in some sort of art program or had a teacher like the one I saw today, what impact that could have had on my artistic life? How would I be different at this point? It can’t be changed but it does give me pause…

7

Since I started this blog and forced myself to take photos every day I find I am actually looking at things a lot more closely than I have before. Because I have a goal I am forced to look more closely.

Living in New York City I find that I tend to move about my day trying to get from one thing to another as quickly as possible, caught up in the naturally high pace of this place, at times with little regard to the details around me. But when I allow myself the luxury of slowing down or I am in an environment that demands that I slow down (Provincetown and New Hampshire both come to mind as a couple of my favorite and most familiar places in the latter category) the tiny things that make up the big picture suddenly spring to life. It’s fucking amazing.

Bubbles in a champagne glass, the reflection on a rain coated street or even discarded trash that seemed to have fallen in just the right location all amount to magic when I am open to them.

6

I was reminded today, while watching a documentary on the teenage children of gays and lesbians, of the absolute unfettered joy in getting exactly what you worked for and what you wanted so passionately. I was actually moved to tears as I recalled those moments in my own life.

I look forward, with great anticipation, to making them happen again.

5

I just got back from the pictures or the movies for those who are not so in tune with their inner 1940's.

Frost/Nixon was absolutely worth the price of full admission. Frank Langella did a stellar job at portraying Nixon. What could easily have been an impersonation of someone who was one of the biggest real life characters of the 20th century became a portrayal of a very complex man. Langella's Nixon elicits a mixture of revulsion, loathing and pity (NOT sympathy and that is easily a trap both the director and actor could have fallen into, in my opinion - of course this parralells the story going on with what Frost and his team was looking to do the interviews).

I highly reccomend.

But more importantly...the popcorn was delicious.

4

I was looking in the window of a charity shop at the assemblage of junk in the window. I took some photos of the window and noticed a woman, pushing a cart, standing off to the side presumably to let me take my photo.

I didn’t acknowledge her right away but eventually she spoke up and said “Isn’t that something? Look at that Elvis doll. Boy he was really something. Can you believe that people used to get upset by his shaking?” and as she said the last part she sort of shook around in demonstration of his rock and rolling hips.

I mumbled something along the lines of “Yeah, I know, right?”

I looked at her. She was probably in her 60’s or 70’s with long wild hair, buffalo plaid shirt, way oversized for her body, knit cap, Nike sneakers, glasses and a ton of lipstick. She could have been homeless but then, being this is NYC and specifically the East Village she could just have easily been an artist or eccentric long time resident.

“Yeah I mean he got on tv and he gyrated and really shook everyone up! Nowadays look at the stuff they do? Elvis is a fucking choir boy compared to today! But he stole a lot of that stuff you know.”
I wanted to go further into the conversation with her. I wanted to keep talking. This is the reason I love NYC and why I hate the thought of leaving. But I knew I was late, I also didn’t know exactly what to say. Something told me that this woman was no idiot and in a way I was terrified of being exposed as a complete idiot by responding to her.

“Definitely” I say “He wasn’t the first person to do that. Yes, he did steal, didn’t he?” As the words fell I felt SO stupid and I didn’t know why. I was repeating what she said, wanting her to realize I had listened to her and heard her and wanted to talk more. She looked through her glasses at me. It totally freaked me out.

“What’s your name?” I asked

“Annie.” Easily I could have responded in so many ways. My great grandmother’s name was Annie. I eat Annie’s mac and cheese. Annie is a cute name. SOMETHING that would have sparked further conversation. She started moving her cart clearly becoming bored with me. I blurted out “May I take your picture?”

Immediately she said “Absolutely not. You know nothing about me. I’m a fascinating person. Apple Annie” She started pushing her cart past me. She was done. I had insulted her. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. Color flooded my cheeks and I seriously wanted to curl up right there on the sidewalk. Why??????

And then it struck me, really hard, that this interaction represented so much of how I approach the world. The fear of opening up. Wanting desperately to reach out and connect with other people but so often falling short of that as a result of me barreling through our interaction, out of fear or desperation or caution. Alienating people. Stopping them from getting to know anything about me or me them. Forming their opinion of me before they even have a chance to do it on their own. I suppose protecting myself from rejection that I have always “known” was inevitable.

It was a horrifying realization I have to say. On some level I must always have known this but this brief and odd meeting with this woman had really forced it to the surface.

There are so many ways I could have interacted with this woman. Maybe none of them would have truly connected us in any way. Maybe she was nuts. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But the point is that I will never know. I will never know because I didn’t allow myself to find out. And how many times has this played out in my life? Maybe even times when I didn’t realize it was even happening.

What can I do the next time an Apple Annie pushes her cart across my path?? How will I change my perspective not only on “the world” but more importantly on myself and my place and my value?

Seriously. I don’t know. But it has to change. That's why I still took her picture as she walked away. I know she said no but I had to. I need this reminder to myself of what work needs to be done.

My grandfather, though I loved him dearly, was misanthropic and I don’t think it was something he chose. I think it happened to him as a result of being hurt too many times. But he wasn’t aware of the reasons and, probably owing to generational attributes , never wanted to know. It just was. But he got worse and worse over time and eventually even dealing with members of his own family was something he couldn’t tolerate. It seemed to be such a miserable existence not only for him but by proxy my grandmother, who had horrors in her life, was hurt often as well but instead became a warm, social and loving person.

I’d rather spend my life as my grandmother than my grandfather. I don’t want to distrust people or hate people or be afraid of people. I don’t want to force my husband or the few people who I am close to into my world of negativity.

I want to open up and move on.

Doesn’t that mean something? God, I really hope so.

3

The Christmas carnage tells us that the season has, rather abruptly, come to an end. It seemed to come and go before I even knew what was happening.

That aside it was actually quite a nice series of events. We spent Christmas Eve with dear friends, Christmas day with my in-laws (riding to their place on Metro-North along the Hudson was SOOO peaceful and relaxing) and New Year’s Eve with my family and our friend, Michael and ALL of them were just wonderful celebrations that meant a lot to us. Quality time spent in conversation, laughter and shared memories. There was virtually no material exchange this year and I found that to be one of the most memorable aspects of the holiday.

More and more I am understanding that I will never find satisfaction or gratification in things. I mean don’t misunderstand, I adore things and I do find pleasure in THINGS but they will never be the source of authentic happiness.

It sets me free.

It’s exhilarating!

2

Depression and anger will eat away at the core of who you are until there is nothing left to recognize.

1

The first day of the year. A difficult year has passed. A new year, full of potential and most certainly challenges, has begun

I look at this past year as one where my life changed forever. The world, as I knew it for so long, became suddenly strange and unfamiliar. I never expected it and wasn't prepared for it.

Part of me died and the rest of me has had no clue how to move on. The only choice I had was to rethink everything and try to see the world in a different way...I hope eventually that brings me to a new understanding and awareness.

******

I thought the best way to start this blog was with a song and a photo of a shop in the East Village.

The song sums up exactly what I feel in a really profound and beautiful way.

The photo is of Love Saves the Day a shop I have loved visiting since I moved to NYC in 1998 and that will be closing its doors in a couple of weeks.

I begin the year with the realization that I can never go back and I MUST move forward.

"Any Other World" - MIKA

In any other world

You could tell the difference

And let it all unfurl

Into broken remenance

Smile like you mean it

And let youreself let go

Cos its all in the hands

Of a bitter bitter of man

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

Take a bow

Play the part

Of a lonely lonely heart

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

To the world you thought you lived in

I try to live alone

But lonely is so lonely

So human as I am

I had to give up my defences

So I smile and try to mean it

To make myself let go

Cos it's all in the hands

Of a bitter bitter man

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

Take a bow

Play the part

Of a lonely lonely heart

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

To the world you thought you lived in

Cos it's all in the hands

Of a bitter bitter man

Say goodbye to world

You thought you lived in

Take a bow

Play the part

Of a lonely lonely heart

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

Say goodbye to the world

You thought you lived in

To the world you thought you lived in

In any other world you could tell the difference