airport musings (thirteen things)

O, how I miss Air Jamaica’s direct flights from JFK to Grenada. The alternative (on an airline who shall remain nameless) includes a five-hour wait in the airport in San Juan, Puerto Rico. I always consider buying a Spanish-language Cosmopolitan magazine, but I never do. Mostly I just pace and wait. Look at the books and the duty-free perfume and terrible fast food and listen to the strangely perfect English coming over the loudspeaker.

It’s by no means a rotten experience. Just that by this point in the trip, I’m dying for Grenada, slightly traumatized by my time in New York, which nearly always involves a very large amount of time alone with my thoughts. I should be prepared for this, but I’m not, so I’m unsettled and re-thinking some major . . . uh . . . stuff.

I can usually sufficiently distract myself by reading, but not always. Sometimes I have to put pen to paper. Here’s what happened, followed in italics by whatever I can’t resist adding now.

1. I have a hard to find off-switch, but it’s there and it’s essentially permanent. Is it possible that for some people I have a bottomless fount of forgiveness, and that for others, I’m just already ready to bolt?

2. I may be 30 and I may be a mommy, but I am not exempt from gut-wrenching, soul-scorching, never-going-to-happen “crushes”. (And there should be a better word! But I digress.) In fact, the primary difference between me at 15 and me at 30 is that “they” — gulp — actually last longer. Like more than two years, currently, though I only have myself to blame for nursing it. So, in the dictionary, next to the entry for bittersweet, there should be a nice little pencil drawing of me, alone in a hotel room, alone and wearing a bridesmaid’s dress, with only my ipod for company.

Wow. Now doesn’t *that* sound terrible. And it is, but only sort of and only sometimes. The truth is that 1) I’m used to the situation by now and 2) I’m quietly resigned, even serene about it. A while ago I wrote about fear and regret. What I was thinking while I wrote, but didn’t actually SAY, is that the only thing I will regret in the future will THAT WHICH I FAILED TO DO/PURSUE/DARE . . . out of fear. So perhaps that explains why, no matter what happens now, I have no feelings whatsoever of sorrow or embarrassment.

3. My friends and family are, of course, totally amazing. Even Dad with his bizarr-o political diatribes from which none of us are safe. And every time I go back to visit I tell myself I should think about moving back to the States. I only wish they knew how counterproductive it is to whine at me about it. Don’t they know by now how contrary and stubborn I can be? I’ll be ready when I’m ready and not a minute sooner. Tug on my heart strings and I just get confused and emotional and go turtle.

On the other hand, every single day that passes it seems there are fewer reasons for me to stay here. It’s time to be honest with myself about that. There’s no future for me here and there never has been. I’m not 50 and I’m not retired and I’m not content to remain removed from my world for much longer. Besides, I always said I wanted to go to grad school as soon as I figured out what I wanted to do. As the same plan has now sounded good to me for more than a year, I do believe believe the time has come.

4. I love my little boy more than anything else in the world. These two weeks have been an eternity.

How could I ever have worried that I might think my own child “stupid”? No wonder my mother thought that was hilarious.

5. I’m too clever and too old to to stay with someone whose best selling-point is that he loves me. Forget that. I need to stop being lazy and wussy and address this already. I want my heart to do somersaults. I’m tired of being just comfortable. Above all: I’m tired of being surrounded by ignorance.

Urp. Wasn’t that prescient?

6. I am fabulous and I do not have time for anyone who doesn’t see it. (Hilarious. How many diet Cokes *did* I have?)

7. Silence can be an excellent — nay, vital! — conversation tool. I should use it more often.

8. Grenada really really needs VH1, and no, I am not being selfish. I just feel the world would benefit greatly if we all stopped, took a few moments and paid a bit of attention to Charm School.

9. Apparently I can finally pass for Puerto Rican. Hallelujah.

10. If I can come to love the heat of the tropics, I can get used to anything. Tho’ I do miss snow . . .

11. I both need and want more exercise. When I’m active I not only look better, I’m not grumpy.

12. I am very seriously thinking about focusing on my own business instead of looking for a new job. It’s clearer than ever that I am not cut out to be anyone’s employee.

13. I do not need or even really want an 80GB ipod. Can you say overkill? Especially since I’d rather eat a camel than hook it up to my laptop. I’m convinced itunes wants to eat my music. No, seriously.

14. Top 40 radio really isn’t all that bad, especially when it’s been over a year since you’ve heard any.

Yep, that’s fourteen things. And here’s #15: I’m doing my best to stay in this headspace. Nothing matters more right now. To that end, tomorrow we go back to the story. I need to write more. Period. Blogging alone isn’t good enough.

happy summer solstice

Tho’ I must admit I do prefer the winter solstice. My history of getting dumped on that day notwithstanding.

fear: an excerpt from *anatomy of the spirit*

Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.

I do not quite know how to describe how I am feeling this evening. Irritated is part of it. Sad is another. But mostly I’m just sick and tired of people and their inability to just shut up already. It’s like standing on the pitcher’s mound during an Indiana hailstorm.

I plan to soothe myself by sharing with you this wonderful book I read last week. I will also gaze at my adorable boy while he sleeps. A moment ago he stood up in his crib, rousing himself from a seemingly sound sleep. He stood in the corner and rested his head on the edge, trying to stay awake, but his eyes never stopped blinking and he never stopped smiling his sleepy smile. After a couple of minutes he gave up, softly drifting down. Now it’s almost like I don’t need the book . . .

Anatomy of the Spirit was written by Carolyn Myss, PhD and first published in 1996. The back of the book reads:

Anatomy of the Spirit takes the interconnectedness of mind, body and spirit even further than ever before. Based on fifteen years of research into energy medicine, it shows that we can be responsible not only for our health but for our healing. In this breakthrough book, Dr. Caroline Myss, who is herself able to diagnose illness by intuitive means, sets a unique program specifically designed to promote spontaneous physical, emotional and spiritual healing. Here she explores the links between spiritual and emotional stresses and the specific illnesses these create in different parts of the human energy system.

Anatomy of the Spirit also [...] synthesizes the ancient wisdom of three spiritual traditions — the Hindu chakras, the Christian sacraments and the Kabbalah’s Tree of Life.

Al of it is good, but the following section blew my mind:

THE CONSEQUENCES OF FEAR

The most costly energy consequences come from acting out of fear. Even when choices lead us to what we desire, they generally also produce unwanted side effects. These surprises teach us that choosing from fear transgresses our trust in Divine guidance. We all do live, at least periodically, within the illusion that we are in charge of our lives. We seek money and social status in order to have greater power of choice and so that we do not have to follow the choices others make for us. The idea that consciousness requires surrendering personal will to Divine will stands in direct conflict with all that we have come to consider the measure of an empowered person.

Thus, we may repeat the cycle of the fear-surprise-fear-surprise, until we reach a point of player in which we say: You choose, and I’ll follow. Once we release this prayer, guidance may enter our lives, along with endless acts of synchronicity and coincidence — Divine “interference” at its best.

[...]

BETWEEN THE HEAD AND THE HEART

Mental energy powers the external world, while heart energy powers our personal domains. For centuries our culture has thought that emotional energy weakens our ability to make quick and necessary decisions, and that mental energy is virtually useless in the emotional domain, as noted in the old saying that reason can win no war against a heartfelt choice. For centuries this separation was acceptable.

If mind and heart are not communicating clearly with each other, one will dominate the other. When our minds are in the lead, we suffer emotionally because we turn emotional data into an enemy. We seek to control all situations and relationships and maintain authority over emotions. When our hearts are in the lead, we ten to maintain the illusion that all is well. Whether the mind is in the lead or the heart, will is motivated by fear and the futile goal of control, not by a sense of internal security.

Shiver.

back to roots

Horoscopes like this one make me glad I was born a Pisces:

Applying your efforts toward a higher goal might be more important to you than to anyone else. Others question your motives or ask you to do additional tasks for them. This pulls the rug out from under you and saps whatever energy you have. Make a conscious decision to keep your head above the waters of irrational self-doubt. As usual, your instincts are trustworthy.

Wonder of wonders, I dig every word of that.

It’s true that my instincts about people are really good. I should trust that truth – and myself! – more often. Putting aside initial negative impressions never serves me well. When I dislike someone viscerally, there is always a reason, even if I don’t know yet what it is.

+++++

What a week. Not Paris Hilton, the immigration bill or that found kidnapped girl in Hartford. Me again.

A few days ago, just when I was literally on the point of making a huge mistake, I heard some news. It was bad enough that I actually started a brand-new truly anonymous blog. I wrote a vitriolic post; a real doozy! I was so vexed I got terse, which is about as angry as I get. I thought I would find it satisfying, but I was wrong, so I’m back.

Here I will say merely this:

First, I and only I make decisions for me, and no one but me had anything to do with my seemingly abrupt decision to resign. It’s laughable to pretend otherwise.

Second, I am thankful that I discovered what the “word” really is before I embarrassed myself by asking to come back. I have heard some crazy talk, some of it truly ridiculous, some of it predictable enough to bore me, some of it even rather enlightening. I could bitch and moan or whine and complain or even gloat, but I have no appetite for that. My switch has been firmly set to off.

Instead, I will cut my losses and stop looking back. Being betrayed by someone I considered a friend is of course always painful, but this time I am relieved. I am relieved that my eyes were finally opened to that toxicity before I unwittingly offered up any additional ammunition.

There’s a silver lining. I’ve also seen/felt support where I didn’t expect it, which I appreciate more than I can adequately express in words. So the unexpected discovery of the complete toxic package – toxic friend, toxic advice, toxic gossip – is totally tempered by the discovery that some other friends are more real and true than I had ever suspected.

The above four paragraphs are more than it’s probably safe to say about the present. Me and my big mouth again . . .

Anyway. I have less than two weeks before I head back to New York, which is a good thing because I’m getting bored, and for me boredom invariably leads to trouble, even if that trouble is “only” sadness. So we’ll nip that in the bud, cull it and toss it in the bin, where it can lime to its heart’s content with my toxic friend and toxic job.

That being finished, I make a commitment to myself to WRITE OUT LOUD!
(Yes, like a Sharpie.)

I won’t demand from myself any particular frequency, because then I’ll end up with a bunch of insipid horoscope- or lyric-related posts, and I’d rather focus on quality, not quantity. This post, for example: I wrote it longhand on Sunday; it is Monday now as I sit here typing it offline, and I may not actually post it until Tuesday. I submit that even if it bores you senseless, it’s still better than three silly and superficial musings.

This flexibility is especially important now, because we are – as the title may have alerted you – going back to roots. Roots in this case being late 2003 in Amherst, where the Letters from Grenada story begins. Arbitrary, that, but I have my reasons, as you’ll see, the primary one being that you have to start somewhere.

As one of my favorite non-toxic friends enjoys pointing out from time to time, I’m nearly two years late on this project already. That, plus the fact that I’m only happy if I’m writing, and last but certainly not least, that I keep catching myself staring into the abyss, is more than enough reason for me to get it in gear already.

***

A rather long and even more winding road led to Amherst. Early that fall, some things – the condition of my hair, my book collection, the cool weather of the Berkshire mountains, the awesome house my brother and I had rented, my relationship with my pets, and the sheer number of hours I could devote to listening to NPR, not to mention walking around campus and town blending in seamlessly with the undergraduates – some things in my life were quite good.

The shadow-side included a dwindling bank account, a pathetic job market, isolation from my friends, missing my mother and resenting her for not being there, and no internet connection. I coped.

I was becoming an industrious little kitchen alchemist, experimenting with my own recipes. These include:

–>my special rustic turkey chili, with hot peppers and corn and extra onions and molasses instead of brown sugar
–>frittata that called for a dozen eggs, four potatoes, a pound of bacon, a smorgasbord of veggies, lots of cheese and a couple of hours over extra-low heat in an enormous cast iron skillet
–>seared tuna! with sesame!
–>chicken breasts with broccoli and portobello mushrooms, fresh basil or oregano and balsamic vinegar, red baby potatoes, all sprinkled with olive oil and baked

I was breaking away finally from a five-year relationship with a man I deeply loved but could not live with. I was having some fun and I was very relaxed, but really I was sick with myself.

I had been like a deer in headlights, paralyzed and unable to pursue anything personally fulfilling. Had been so since before graduation more than four years earlier. Today I can finally see that in school, the personal and “work” were so very connected, that I had actually FED MY SOUL with my school work and the amazing circle of friends I had all living within easy walking distance of my house where I lived with three equally amazing roommates. My life was charmed and I was rather fulfilled and satisfied with mostly everything. So it’s almost natural that I didn’t handle much well after graduation, when I entered the “real world” and suddenly personal and work became distinct and even at odds with each other. For a while I was nice and impressive and wunderkind-y at my job. But eventually it all dissolved, after a few blatant disappointments but mostly just terminal fucking ennui. (I read an awful lot of Sartre in school, yes.)

When I thought about it – which was as infrequently as possible, unless I was feeling self-righteously indignant and in the mood for a bitch-vent session – when I thought about it I had to admit I was in this position because I’d only halfway followed my instincts. I’d gleefully ignored the opportunity to be a hedge fund manager or some kind of analyst or whatever, justifying the dismissal of such assumedly guaranteed fortune (this was 1999) by waxing on about my planned immediate and dramatic entrance into the publishing world. (Naïveté was cute on me back then. Or at least I thought it was.)

But then I didn’t. I didn’t do it. I didn’t even try!

Instead I took a job that had very little room for creativity but plenty of room for heart. That was good enough for a time, as I totally got off on the “GOOD” we were doing. But like I said, I got bored and resentful after a few years.

It took me too long to get it together to quit, so when I finally did I was drained and yes, I must admit, feeling sorry for myself . . . yet at the same time totally self-righteous. Sound familiar?

(Left out of this survey is my 9/11 experience, as well as the fire that occurred about a year later and destroyed most of my belongings, including the only copy of the book I had finally started. Those are key points, but this is background. Since it has only recently become possible for me to talk about either of those events without being overcome by emotion, I’d probably never return from that tangent. It’s certainly a part of MY story, but we simply do not have time for it now.)

Back to Amherst. There I am, the third floor all to myself in this fabulous house. I have a bedroom, an office and my own bathroom with a tub. All the things holding me back were gone – my relationship, my job, my lack of room of my own. All the conditions I had set, all the conditions I told myself had to be fulfilled and then I could write, sure, no problem, were indeed fulfilled. Yet I still couldn’t do it. I still couldn’t write. I don’t think I even tried. I wasn’t even writing email.

I said some things were good; I never said I was happy. Neighbors with apple orchards, amazing coffee and microbrewery beer and the like are nice and all, but nice is rarely enough.

So I blamed the fire. I blamed G. It had been months since we’d spoken, by far the longest time we’d ever been out of contact. I missed him terribly and finally called him one night, drunk. (Genius again.)

So when my brother and my dad got together and tough-loved me, I didn’t even resist. They were right, it was time to go back to New York and look for a job already. I had to leave Rabbit behind, which hurt, but I convinced myself it was best for him.

Strange attachment to a cat, indeed. I’d rescued him when he was maybe ten days old, and bottle fed him around the clock for a couple of months. He was gorgeous, with plush gray fur mitted with white. He was affectionate and full of personality and fat yet slinky and I think he thought I was his mother. At that moment, he was the thing in the world I cared about most.

I packed fast. Dad came to pick me up, and JUST LIKE THAT –>
I moved to the Bronx.

claire huxtable? say it ain’t so!

m, your tv mom is claire huxtable!

You are Claire Huxtable from The Cosby Show. You have high expectations for your children, just like you have high expectations for yourself. You’ve probably got your own life and your own career, but nothing is more fun than spending time with your family. You may be a professional woman, but you enjoy getting silly with the kids sometimes.

You want good kids, but you also want them to be successful, smart individuals who can speak their minds — as long as they do so respectfully. While you enjoy being the kind of mom that your kids can come to with a problem, you are not afraid to set them straight when they’re acting badly. When it comes to discipline, you try treat your kids like adults, talking calmly and coolly. And that’s ultimately why they’re going to grow up with such unwavering respect for you — as both a mother and a successful person.

This is what I get for admitting that I would totally make fun of my own kids. I’m an S; we are hard-wired that way.

I also took an interesting sexual personality test, the results of which were rather interesting. Apparently my libido, on a scale of 1-10, ranks a four. Amen.

me AGAIN

People are always telling me I’m “really something else”. My mind’s been stuck on that these last few days. That and the sense that things right now are reminiscent of checking out the guest book at my own funeral.

But let’s back up a bit. I have a bit of a temper. (Understatement.) I am known to stew about an incident or situation for a very long time, without really doing anything to address it. Sure, I vent. At times I even vent productively – you know, when no one’s feelings get hurt and I actually feel better or even figure something out in the process.

I used to be downright difficult. An unrelenting bully, you might say. The last ten years or so have been a slow and painful mellowing process for me. And I’m more or less happy with where I am now, because I don’t know that I could be any less of a pain in the ass without also losing some of what makes me a good person, what leads me to fight for people I love and things I believe in. What makes me efficient and impressive and mama-bear-ish. I teeter and totter on that edge every moment of every day. I admit I regularly tread on either side of that line. Sometimes within just a few minutes, I’ll be well entrenched in good-m-land and then in the blink of an eye I’m naughty m and unapologetic about it.

I could medicate myself, I suppose, but I choose not to. I don’t want to damp down my creativity and fire. We all make choices and that’s mine, take it or leave it.

I’m pretty sure that if you asked any of my employers to describe me in two words, they’d make a choice like ~valuable and ~difficult.

I always do this.

What happened Wednesday morning?
There’s this project I inherited . . .

OK, so you were annoyed. But why were you over-the-top freaking out upset? Are you a drama queen or what?
It was like a harbinger of doom. What could this summer possibly be like if this is where we are now? It’s not easy to convey the magnificent liability that is the baby dinosaur. Anyone who doesn’t know him wouldn’t believe.

Then there’s the obligation to and relationship with the client. It is irrelevant that this particular client is a total migraine. It is still my job to GET IT DONE, and I take that very seriously, maybe too seriously. Right now naughty m is screaming: but somebody has to! Which segues right into my next point: control. I need to feel some sense of control, and no, I am most certainly NOT a megalomaniac. I need to feel control to feel sane. If I’m going to take responsibility for something, I need a little bit of authority over it too. Otherwise I’m dooming myself to failure, dooming myself to being blamed for doing something wrong when I had no chance ever of doing it right.

So there I am, shaking with anger. So angry, I am crying, but thankfully not sobbing, but also totally unable to calm down. This is why I just left. It was totally ridiculous and abrupt but it avoided any and all truly unforgivably embarrassing scenes.

For a while then I was feeling a bit righteous. Still shaky and unreal. But then later in the evening, especially after I heard I already had another job offer, I was feeling kind of happy and relieved. Like maybe I dodged a bullet. Of course it’s selfish, but I also can’t afford to fall apart over this job. Better I go back to the States and back to awful uptight corporate corporations, where I’ll be only as miserable as I am now, and I’ll also have health insurance and an employer-funded 401k.

That was maybe one third of the reason I left New York two years ago, the inhuman working lifestyle. I got caught up in it for a while, but escaped before any serious damage was done. But now I’ve created (yes, I’ve created) the same situation here. I looked ahead to the June, July and August with something approximating dread. It was going to be intense and exciting and, at times, even fun, but it was going to be lots and lots of hard work and so very little reward. I wasn’t coping well already, and it had barely started. Tension headaches, severe neck stiffness, jaw clenching, eyestrain and insomnia. All bad signs. (Panic attacks too, but that’s about the Bean.)

Rewind to this other job offer of mine. It would be quieter and calmer and no doubt marred by its own particular brand of bullshit. It would be American-style bullshit, though, which sounds pretty good to me right now. It would be part-time if I wanted. And it would be literally right next door to the friends I’m missing right now. But, but… and this is a huge but: it would be boring as infinity. And I do so hate to be bored.

Maybe I should have just taken a few days off.
But I couldn’t! That was not an option!

Right?

So I went back today, which wasn’t so bad but not great either. Sort of soothing and stressful at the same time. I wanted to pick up my paycheck, and my mom was also bugging me all morning to “go and face it”. She seems to suddenly want me to find a way to make it all up. Earlier in the morning, before we left the house, when I was resisting the idea of going today, she says that now she “can’t even remember what it was all about”. As if it was over something so trivial that she can’t even remember what it was, and why did I make such a big deal? This is coming from the woman who co-authored the three demands, and who told me I should definitely NOT go to work or talk to anyone on Thursday. But I digress.

I’m glad I went. I wasn’t happy that I hadn’t said goodbye to anyone, and I was mooning over moments in my daily routine that I will surely and sorely miss. So I felt a little better afterwards, even though I’m all unsettled and full of questions. You have to remember that I’m a newcomer here and that the focus of my life not to mention the few people I know are all there. It’s been a very eventful two years, a huge life-changing stretch of time for me, and I cannot help but be intense and passionate about it even to a fault.

Like I said here a couple of months ago, these people and this place, they saved my life . . .

The short version of that story is this: I was in a pretty bad place when I got here over two years ago, and now I’m feeling much better. In spite of a couple of notable regrets, I haven’t been this ME since I was fifteen.

I hate leaving task unfinished and obligations unmet, and that is exactly what I’ve done here.

But is this my only opportunity to get out of a snowballing pressure cooker situation? A situation that’s allowed me to become less of a mother, a daughter, a writer?

And how fucking crazy am I, talking like I even could go back if I wanted to? Who do I think I am?

Here’s the rationalization of the moment:
It’s partly about getting acknowledgement of my contribution. It’s partly about my future and my son’s future. (Future in more ways than one, keeping in mind that I now have no legal right to stay here in Grenada.) A huge part is about doing something, changing something, and making it better, taking part in the solution. And finally it’s about starting a trend that eventually benefits everyone.

Notably, I’ve now lost the chance to do the last two. And the first. Which leaves just Jack and me. Not bad, but not enough.

I could rescind my demands. I could promise to behave and I would, for a few months at least. I could endure whatever gossip “they” would inevitably conjure; I’ve already endured much worse. Now, here at home, alone in the evening, I want to say why bother? Tomorrow morning I will wonder how can you not?

(Reading this over this morning, I must admit I’m leaving out most of the story. But, as I like to remind myself, this is NOT A HISTORY BOOK. So I might get around to what actually happened in my next post, but I’m not promising anything.)

+++++++

I am fed up with my horoscope. Like I need another reminder that I was born a flaky-ass-temper-tantrum-prone Pisces.
You have a growing sense of confidence that can motivate you into high gear, but you are probably more grounded now than you appear. If you’ve been thinking about your current move for a while, your enthusiasm can overshadow any previous planning you’ve done. Others may think you are out of control, for your actions may not support their perception of you. Don’t worry about surprising anyone else. Just do what makes the most sense to you.

Yeah, OK, whatever. I wish I had the mysterious master plan that my horoscope regularly implies.

(June 4, 2007)

*teenagers* by *my chemical romance*

They’re gonna clean up your looks
With all the lies and the books
To make a citizen out of you
Because they sleep with a gun
And keep an eye on you son
So they can watch all the things you do

Because the drugs never work
They’re gonna give you a smirk
‘Cause they got methods of keepin’ you clean
They’re gonna rip up your heads
Your aspirations to shreds
Another cog in the murder machine

They said all teenagers scare
The living shit out of me
They could care less
As long as someone’ll bleed
So darken your clothes
Or strike a violent pose
Maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me

The boys and girls in a clique
The awful names that they stick
You’re never gonna fit in much, kid
But if you’re troubled and hurt
What you got under your shirt
Will make them pay for the things that they did

They said all teenagers scare
The living shit out of me
They could care less

As long as someone’ll bleed
So darken your clothes
Or strike a violent pose
Maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me

Ohhh yeah!

They said all teenagers scare
The living shit out of me
They could care less
As long as someone’ll bleed
so darken your clothes
Or strike a violent pose
Maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me

All together now!

Teenagers scare
The living shit out of me
They could care less
As long as someone’ll bleed
So darken your clothes
Or strike a violent pose
Maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me

Teenagers scare
The living shit out of me
They could care less
As long as someone’ll bleed
So darken your clothes
Or strike a violent pose
Maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me

happy birthday, bean!

For my favorite little Taurus:

Cumpleaños Feliz, te deseamos a ti
Cumpleaños, Cumpleaños
Cumpleaños Feliz

Que los cumplas feliz
Que los cumplas feliz
Que los cumplas querido Joaquin!
Que los cumplas Feliz

Cumpleaños Feliz, te deseamos a ti
Cumpleaños, Cumpleaños
Cumpleaños Feliz

Feliz, Feliz en tu dia
Amiguito que Dios te bendiga
Que reine la paz en tu dia
Y que cumplas muchos mas

 +++++

On a Pisces note, my horoscope for today includes this gem (gemmiest part bolded):

You may be pushed outside of your comfort zone today, yet new encounters can ultimately bring joy into your life. Don’t resist the variety of experience that now awaits your participation. This is your chance to explore unknown territory, even if it’s only in your dreams. Remember, your fantasies can show you the way to a sweeter reality if you let it happen.  

Mmmm.   

not-so-worthy reads?

Today, during my lunch break, I discovered that I can now be considered a reader of Yachting World.  Two years ago, I couldn’t have read more than three consecutive sentences.  And it’s not like I was illiterate or anything, people.  And it’s not like I don’t like to read.  At times I have been known to AVERAGE a book and a half a day.  That sounds like hyperbole, but it’s not.  (Remind me some day to tell you the story about the time I thought I was reading The Sun Also Rises for the first time.  Trippy.)

Anyway.

Apparently I have, over the course of the last two years, absorbed enough esoteric boat-related knowledge/gossip that I was actually chuckling at some totally pedestrian and (again) esoteric inside-jokey article thing in this illustrious periodical.  It just goes to show that one cannot be too careful about osmosis, in more ways that one. 

See?  That is the WORST JOKE I HAVE EVER MADE!

*****

 P.S.  You ever wonder why there are no synonyms for esoteric?

today’s horoscope

My horoscope for today:

You are feeling very positive and are apt to express your sense of independence today. This isn’t time to be shy as you seek something that is out of the ordinary. Take complete responsibility for what you want and don’t hesitate to put your plan into motion. It isn’t necessary to check it out with anyone else; this one’s for you.

 I will be all over that . . . as soon as I figure out *which* plan.