I am usually in my head. Sure I am a hedonistic gal with tendencies towards good food, good loving (with bad boys), good friendships and wine.
I love dance and expressing myself in a way that is not usually reserved for the shy and I love to flirt and be social when I am feeling the desire to love to flirt and be social.
But I notice that I am in my head a lot.
Which is one of the reasons I love music.
It allows me to still be in my head but transport me to a deeper level.
And every so often, I can fall in love with a singer (usually a man, okay mostly a man) just for his voice. I will never need to meet him, know him, lust after him...I will only need to hear his voice, sometimes only a riff, and I am sprung in a way that is only reserved for horny 16 year old girls.
And I love it.
I heard Ben Folds's songs from the Over the Hedge CD and there is something cracking in his voice in one song and I almost started crying. His voice touches me in an addictive, dysfunctional sexy way.
I felt the same way about Rick Moranis (Seriously stop laughing) in "Suddenly Seymour" from "Little Shop of Horrors". Something in the way he sang one lyric made me take note of this man's sexuality. I took note and have since given it back. It was a momentary weakness that still returns when I hear that song (but not when I watch Ghostbusters).
I felt that way about Rami Perlman's voice from the group Something For Rockets. I would sit and listen and let his vocals wash over me like a breeze. Damn smooth pipes. Listen to him sing "The Line" and see if you know what I mean.
Or Jarvis Cocker from Pulp. Seriously, the song "Underwear" makes me feel lovingly naughty while it simultaneously cracks me up.
The cool thing about these types of voices for me is that it always ALWAYS inspires me to write better lyrics...and I am not even talking about whether their lyrics are good. I am talking about their actual voices inspire, stir, move something in me to write better lyrics than I thought I could. The funny thing is that my favorite bands aren't always the ones with these voices. Falling in love with a voice in the way I am describing doesn't happen all the time. I can love a band or their lyrics, talent, musicality without having this hyperaware knowledge of wanting to get nasty with their voice.
I don't know how life works sometimes (like this morning, my sandal broke and not 5 minutes later, my debit card fell into a groove in the refrigerated part of Starbucks where the sandwiches are and I needed to take apart their display to get it out - made me think that I was going to have a crappy day...but I am not) but sometimes, I just like to ride the wave of feeling the feelings that come up, loving the loving that comes up and being present in the moments that come up.
Cool.
I sit here this morning, red-eyed, drinking a lot of coffee.
This week has been a ride.
It has been one of those weeks where I feel like I am sending out love-vibes or something.
Men are paying attention in ways they don't usually go out of their way to. It's almost as if I am wearing an "attraction-elixir".
Baristas are flirting, parties are filled with interesting guys who hang by side the entire night, fellow elevator riders smile at me with friendly hues. It is wonderful.
But I am staying level headed about it.
One, because as soon as I get cocky, this shit always goes away and Two, because my standards of what i expect are much higher so that even though the attention is nice, I need a helluva lot more to interest me before I become a freak who will go boy-crazy.
Jazzy threw a party for Deni and Tootsie for their respective birthdays. There was a guy there who totally could keep up wit-wise with me (like Ghost used to) and I started to feel all fluttery. He was obnoxious. But I didn't care. I was so ready to steal away with him and do naughty things. But my new rule is that I will not do the seeking or the work to get them. And if they don't ask me for my information, then it will be a lost moment because although my skills of finding out information on people could be used in the FBI (or akin to that of stalkers I suppose), I relinquish that gift to the man who can do that in finding out about me.
It didn't matter anyway since the guy was a musician and I am trying hard to stay away from musicians (and radio djs).
JA was also there. He and I have had a mild flirtation throughout the years. But he is a lot of work. I used to be ok being an audience member to his antics but things have changed.
And plus, the last tim I saw him, he was rude rude to me.
Interesting what happens when you let go of the results. I didn't care about witty guy or JA. But JA followed me around like a puppy dog the whole party. But the end result was that no one captured my attention. So I left feeling the power of the good flirt but with my standards in tact. So far so good.
Last night was Leigh's bachelorette party. It started slow and ended very very fun. But as with Jazzy's party, there were whimpsters abounding.
One guy caught my eye and I have to say, this one is hard for me to shake because he told me his name was David. And he is a Leo (which I was also told I would end up with...not sure I like that though).
My attraction to him was so keen that at his table of 12 people, my eyes had a hard time leaving his face.
Leigh found out I thought he was cute and went about doing her research.
"Are you married? Attached? Available?"
He answered: No, No, Yes.
He stood behind me and kept finding ways to chat with me and sit next to me.
But it turns out he lied about his name (David...not true...it was Sean) and he made up the email address he gave leigh to give me. But Leigh had given him my email address. When I questioned him on giving me a false email, he winked at me and said, "but I have YOUR correct one". Yeah, but see if I write back to a liar.
Okay, my attraction would probably allow me to write back.
I am strong and everything but he was really cute.
I jest (sort of). I am that strong.
All the Davids, Seans, Witty-Guys can come and go but I know the difference between what I have been through and what I want.
And I think in essence, THAT is the "attraction-elixir" I have been wearing.
And it smells good.
As does my coffee. Which I will drink now.
When Madonna's "La Isla Bonita" came out, I convinced my high school friend Carrie that we needed to experience an island romance with some hot guy like in the song.
"Tropical the island breeze
All of nature wild and free
This is where I long to be
La isla bonita"
How simple life seemed.
This was pre-internet.
We went to several travel agencies and got a pile of brochures for several resorts.
It would have been the first adult vacation without my family.
It would have been the most expensive thing I would have paid for at that time in my life.
We couldn't decide between Sandals, cruises, Club Med or several others that tempted us with tropical idealism.
The trip never happened.
But the feeling that we would make it happen in a month or next season or next year kept me going for awhile.
Carrie and I went our separate ways eventually and she ended up having a career that allowed her to travel the world.
I ended up having a wonderful island romance in Italy with Lauro very similar to what I had envisioned in high school.
It was one of those moments where the universe lined up and my dreams met up with reality.
A beautiful boy who only had eyes for me on the island of Capri.
"I want to be where the sun warms the sky
When it's time for siesta you can watch them go by
Beautiful faces, no cares in this world
Where a girl loves a boy, and a boy loves a girl"
I just heard the song playing at the supermarket this evening.
So many memories made a smile emerge on my lips.
The feeling of making the plans, the feeling of romance, the feeling of freedom.
I was talking to my boss this morning about how long it has been since that trip.
The kind of span of time that you used to only hear from your parents when they told stories of their youth.
Tha kind of span of time that was reserved for old people.
But now that kind of span of time is something that is a reality for me.
"Last night I dreamt of San Pedro (okay - read Capris)
Just like I'd never gone, I knew the song
A young girl with eyes like the desert (read - or ocean - you pick)
It all seems like yesterday, not far away"
Not far away at all.
I think this means I need to travel. Or have another island romance. Or both. Yes both please.
This morning, I was awakened by too bright a sunray on my arm.
The busy avenue that my bedroom window faces was unusually noisy with a traffic jam with requisite honking to mark impatience for the construction that is up ahead.
I get to moving pretty slowly since even though it is early, it is already hot.
I showered twice today.
Both times felt like the first time since sweat became part of my outfit.
And my make up.
And my hairdo.
I talked to Mads for a long time this afternoon even though we knew we would see each other at the birthday party for Roby tonight.
Even getting ready, I cursed the fact that my arms are too fat for me to feel good about wearing a tank top but knowing full well that in Zappy's little apartment where there will be cooking, that I will need to be as cool as possible. So I wear one anyway and hope to distract everyone away from my arms with my pretty flowy skirt.
I drive across town to the party already in full swing.
I meet several people whose names I don't catch but who are very interesting.
I eat a wonderful 5 bean dip that should have been a 7 bean dip but the gal who made it seems to have forgotten two of the layers. She makes a point to tell us that. No matter, it still is delicious.
The heat is unbearable and I figure that drinking is the way to keep cool.
Water would be the best choice but I opt for wine.
I mingle and look around at how my formerly single friends are all coupled up on the couch with their signifigant others. I deem it the "couples couch" and wonder when that shift happened leaving me still seated off to the side with my dwindling population of singles.
Time for the cake. A standard by the book chocolate bundt with chocolate icing that, I am not lying, is the most amazing cake.
Zappy's cat gets too overwhelmed that we are invading her space and starts to lash out at us. Like the saying, "it's only funny until someone gets clawed by the cat" we realize that cat scratches really aren't that funny and we leave the cat alone.
I notice there is a David at the party and even though I know better, I still wonder, hmmmm, could he be the one.
Stupid I know. But he disappears into the night until I look around and realize that there are very few new faces and several familiar ones.
I chat it up with Derek about comedy. Mads leaves with her man. Ennui leaves with Reedfish and I notice that Jazzy is in the kitchen (not with Dinah - ha very funny) but with Tamara (and her man - another former single gone to the other side).
I leave congratulating Jazzy on her wonderful pasta and Mads on her yummy spinach salad with avocados (I mean you can't go wrong with avocados).
Derek is only in town for a few days from England. We will do El Coyote next week. I wonder how I will stay trim this summer with all this drinking that I have been doing lately.
I come home and notice that the air has changed drastically from this morning.
I sit in one of my french windows and feel the slight breeze come into my apartment and hit my skin.
Vermont Avenue is much less busy than it was this morning.
I hear a man cough. He is waiting for the bus.
I hear a couple coming back from one of the restaurants down the street.
They are chatting and I am led to believe it is possibly a first date.
Another couple walks by arm and arm.
A woman runs on the sidewalk with her high heels clicking. She is nervous and not aware that I see her.
Every so often when no cars go by, I can hear the tv in an apartment across the street. I wonder if they can hear mine when my windows are open.
In catching up with everyone tonight, the theme seemed to be "What I want to do when i grow up" which seemed appropriate since birthdays mark that we are getting older and are we where we want to be.
I realize that I am a little blue but nothing that a little time, sleep and exercise won't cure.
I also realize that I sort of like sitting here in my window feeling the night air on me with the night blooming jasmine in the air and the smell of a hot day going to bed for the night.
It reminds me of how LA smelled when i was a kid and what I imagined it would be like when I was an adult.
And you know even though I am not where I want to be, this kind of night is exactly the kind of night I imagined I would have as an adult.
And it makes me realize I am not so far off track.
Life has been such a roller coaster this past month.
I have had a lot of ups and many more downs.
Some of it is karma I am sure.
Some of it is meant to move me in a different direction.
I have been wrongly villified by those I thought were closest to me at work.
I have had to mourn and plan a memorial for a friend in the middle of this kind of shit politics.
I have been sick and have had a hard time sleeping.
But I have also learned who my real friends are.
I have reconnected to some other friends I hadn't talked to in awhile.
I have planned a surprise party for one of my favorite people in the world (we went roller skating and I didn't fall!)
I have found many teachers and guides in forms I didn't expect.
I have found a renewed spirit for my creative career.
I have a/c in my car (which prior to last year, I did not)
I have a sense of my worth when it comes to friendship, romance, money and career and believe me, I will never again settle for the shit that I have allowed in my life up till now.
I realize how much I have to be thankful for. How many things I want to do and be and experience.
My life is in transition and things always feel tougher before you grow.
But until we stop, we keep going because life keeps going and somehow just knowing that is helping me deal with all the chaos that I find myself in the middle of.
Here is hoping for a July reaping the benefits of the growing pains from June.
I once gave her my blog address. She never read it. Always planned to.
She would watch my cat when I went on vacation. She loved my cat. My cat is a very sweet cat but not very attractive. Bad markings. Otherwise adorable. But only a few people love my cat as much as I do and she was one of them.
She helped me with my comedy the night before my performance. That is when I knew her brilliance. She was a fantastic writer but also knew how to fix other's writing. She was also an amazing artist and photographer.
She was no saint. She kind of invaded my life. She moved into my apartment building. She worked where I worked. She went to both my gyms. She went to my dentist and then complained about him. Her dramatics were epic. She needed to stir shit up in her life and self destruct because the pain of her life not working out was too much to handle.
She self medicated too much. Played doctor with herself. Used her charm to manipulate her therapist into believing she was better when she never was. She got involved with the wrong men and walked away from the good ones. She was always looking for love. She had a lot to give to someone if she could only find the right connection.
But she was the most charming, gracious woman. She loved her friends and even her friends' friends. She was very fragile and strong at the same time. She let others in quickly and broke very easily on the inside. She didn't really show it on the outside until she would unravel and then nothing was off limits to what she would show you. She showed you her insides.
You could bring her to any party and she would make a friend. She would give you the shirt off her back.
She was an optimist. And a romantic. And a creative genius.
But she was a whole lot of chaos too.
I had stopped taking her calls six months ago because she was like a tornado in my life. She took it over. We had a weird complex friendship. I was sometimes her equal and sometimes the parent. And sometimes she guided me.
But she had worn me out. I was tired. Needed a break from her crazy.
I was just thinking about her a lot recently. Her dad passed away last week and I know she was a mess because of it.
Her birthday is tomorrow. Same as my niece. That was always a connection too.
She wanted to be a parent so badly and felt a kinship with my sister's daughter.
She loved travel and was the best travel companion. We went to Montreal together a year and a half ago and she was at her prime when traveling. She was at her prime doing anything creative.
I woke up this morning and meditated and prayed for her family to get through this tough time of missing their dad.
I don't usually do that. But something drew me to.
I went to my medicine cabinet and noticed the perfumes she had given me. Some as gifts, and some as scents people had given her that she didn't like. I smelled them. And remembered a lot about her apartment. The antiques. The smell of the wood. The smell of her perfume. The smell of candles and sage. No matter where she lived, her apartments were cozy.
Her energy was inviting.
I thought about the clothes she gave me for when I would lose the weight she just knew I would lose.
I thought about how she moved out of my building and quit her job at the same time (6 months ago).
I thought about how she moved into a new apartment in West Hollywood and now that drunk neighbor has been officially evicted from my building, I wondered what it would be like for her to live across the hall from me in this building again. I nix the idea because if I want her back in my life, I need to do it slowly.
I thought about how she was temping pretty regularly but was still not where she wanted to be.
I went into work not prepared for the tragic news that was about to hit my ears.
"C___ committed suicide".
The words felt like a joke. I actually didn't hear them. I kept saying "you're kidding, right?" over and over.
Tomorrow is her birthday.
I was ready to start things slowly.
And that chance is gone.
More people were jarred and affected than I think she would have ever realized. She was very loved.
She was a tortured soul. A tortured, long golden haired, ethereal soul who left too early.
My last wish for her is that she is finally at peace.
The world has lost a great spirit.
You will be missed my Friend. You will be missed.
It is hard when you fight with anyone.
A boyfriend, a best friend, family members, a close co-worker.
Because I try and fight fair, when a fight goes into the personal zone, I find it even more painful, because many people fight below the belt.
Because I don't fight below the belt, I am sometimes considered the bigger person. But I am actually not the bigger person. I want to go to everyone and explain my side.
I want to slander the other person, reveling in the idea that I am good and they are bad.
But I never do, because I always know that chances for make-ups are always possible and you can never take back your words.
At work, I have been having issues with a co-worker who is leaving the job to go work in another country. She and I have worked side by side for 4 years. It has been up and down. We have been close.
But this last month, things have been changing. She has short-timers. Which is fine, because we all do that at some point or another. But we had a blow out. It was while I was trying to plan her good bye party. And since the blow out, we haven't talked.
It has been tough on me. But today is her last day and last night I went to her send off at Castaways in the hills above Burbank. An amazing night. Twinking lights, a view, a chocolate martini that was like a chocolate shake with a kick.
It was beautiful.
But I didn't make up with this co-worker. We barely talked.
But I was able to hug her, give $ towards her gift and write something very nice in her card.
Sometimes, people don't mean to hit below the belt.
They can't control themselves.
And sometimes I forgive them.
But the truth is that I never get back the trust that was there before they said it.
I was able to wish her well on her travels, and therefore am able to hold my head high today at work knowing that I have come to peace with whatever transpired.
And sometimes, relationships hit a crossroads and they are meant to go separate ways. Like a wishbone being broken apart.
I just wish sometimes that the inevitable break broke a little cleaner, that's all.