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It's not my birthday or wedding day, nor did I attend a funeral or go to the hospital. But I've had a zit for over a month, a pulled muscle for over a week, I can't function without eight hours sleep every night and when I catch a bug, like now, my body thinks it's dying. It's gotta be an age thing. I think I need some ice cream.

The more you do, the more you do.

I went from desk job to...well, everything job...

Have you ever had to hire someone to fly a giant printer through your balcony?

I have.

If I can make it here...

Mania

I KNOW there is a huge marketing, money-making Beatle thing going on in the world. I know Paul is finally getting his self-decided due and Ringo is finally the coolest bug. And I know the rich are getting richer.

I don't care. They deserve it. I am a screaming teenage girl.

I've just discovered The Beatles.

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in...

I'm in the shower thinking about my upcoming wedding. It is time to give my head over to that side of my life...and I go to this little dark place where my head always goes when it gives over to that side of my life...

"WHY CAN'T GAYS MARRY??!!"

Gay = sexual preference label = taste = ketchup vs. mustard = discrimination?

I don't get it.

People are literally upset about what other people like to put in the holes in their bodies.

The next time I hear about someone using a Q-tip in his or her ear....THAT'S IT....I'm going to protest Walgreens.

Remember: Obama is a Pioneer.

Will somebody very loud and very on TV puhlease look at our country and realize that we are exactly where we've put ourselves? Yes, Bill Maher, I wish, I really do wish that President Obama had a little more punches in his fights. I wish he had a chainsaw. I am angry and frustrated at the choices Bush made and the decisions he pushed us toward but here's the thing...

This is THE country based on FREEDOM. Not based on fairness. Not based on my turn, your turn. It is actually BASED on the notion of every man and woman for himself or herself. Capitalism. The absolute business of FREEDOM...and all the pretty and ugly it entails. Without competition what is there to be 'better' than or 'cheat' against?

If I were to define myself and I were to choose single-handedly the government under which I lived, I just might choose to be a socialist. But the thing is, there were humans long before there were socialists. The ideals of socialism in the hands of humans can get real ugly real fast.

And so can freedom.

I HATE that Obama has to apologize for things you know he believes. Things I believe. I hate that the Democrats can't make a firm decision to put out a fire. I hate a lot of things. But I also love a lot of things. And they are probably very very different things than the things the man I'm about to marry loves and hates. Therefore, how can I expect a stranger, a person I've never met, plowing a corn field in the middle of the country, to love and hate the same things I do?

THAT IS AMERICA.

It is not President Obama's job to turn tables if we want tables turned.

It is our job.

It is not President Obama's job to go against Darth Vadar and follow Yoda if we want peace.

It is our job.

It is not President Obama's job to make everyone equal in his or her heads, beds or wallets if we want the same rights for everyone.

It is our job.

That IS THE FREEDOM OF DEMOCRACY. Right? That is what I remember studying. That is how I understand it.

Of course, we have moral ideas most of us lean towards. There aren't that many of us under rocks. Even Manson listened to The Beatles.

We aren't the nucleus of governing nations on this earth. We are an off-shoot. And each of us, at the vertex of our angles, now sees choices stretching out across the globe. Instantly.

We are creatures of learning. We compare, contrast and as most of our guts tell us, we "do what YOU feel is right". Even if our heads tell us something else, we always [and I mean always] end up dipping a toe into the thing we are drawn towards. We are human and humans are chiaroscuro. We can't comprehend life without death because that IS, in this day and age, where we are all headed no matter what.

In this day and age...
Today...
At least...

It could change. Hmm.

I dislike so very many things about my country but I cannot expect ONE man to do what I, just me, wants him to do. President Obama is not supposed to do ANYTHING unless we tell him to. That is democracy, no?

Who is the loudest...richest...moves the most energy...pushes...changes... manipulates...molds? Those are the people who get 'noticed'. I guarantee you Kanye West will not suffer over how many cute, talented, little white girls he disrespects.

Reality Television is NOT reality. It is the giant, yellow highlighter of chaos...manipulated chaos.

The meek inherit the earth. After the boisterous have had their way with it.

Bill Maher, I agree with you in many, many ways. I would also like for us to get off the couch and out from a blog or a tweet or a coffee shop and show the "LIAR" shouting assholes what the sole of our shoe looks like while flying at their heads. But someone flew planes into our tallest buildings and we agreed with the idiot who told us to shop and look the other way while he sent the poor, the feisty and the young to die against a false opponent. What will it take to make us stop complaining and start changing things? I think we all secretly know what it will take. The gun will actually have to be at our temple before we decide to duck.

Look who's blogging now?

If there is no such thing as bad press can't we make good press???? It is actually up to us. We must get closer together to create a louder voice if we expect to be heard. Where are the crazy Liberals when you need them? Oh yeah, they're human too, so when they do something outside of OUR box we drop them like boiled hammers. All of our thinkers are just more creative...they make their money in 'entertainment' so they won't get shot.

Hmm.

Through the Eyes of a Cambridge Cop

I walk out my front door, rushing down the street. Coffee in one hand, my lunch in the other. I'm separating my wet hair with my fingers. Trying to be awake, aware, alert. My commute is a fifteen minute walk through one of the arm pits of Manhattan. I was lucky enough to trade in a sleepy, recession-death-rattle desk job in SoHo for a fascinating, creative new career in a studio near Port Authority. No more trust-fund tweens stepping out for coffee in wardrobes that cost more than their Vespas. I see bars with morning patrons that probably sleep on the sidewalk out front. There is a lot more vomit on the street in this neighborhood. The privileged party behind bathroom doors.

At my corner, I see a pregnant woman standing next to a cab and a man falling to the street, laying on his back. She waves the cab on and walks behind him as he rolls over and crawls to the curb.

[That poor woman and her drunk, ass of a husband. It's 9am and he can't even walk. The poor thing. Now she's trying to pick him up out of embarrassment. She's too far along for that. She's going to hurt herself.]

I briskly walk up to the woman and ask if she needs help. She responds in a thick Russian accent that she was just trying to help him into a cab.

ME: "He's not with you?"

HER: "No. He on the ground back there. Got up and fell. I ask if he OK. He says he dizzy and needs cab."

She says she's calling 911. I tell her I think that is a good idea.

HE ON THE GROUND: "I just need a cab."

He gestures to her and I whip my focus on him.

ME: "Sir! She is in no condition to help you. She's calling for help."

[Ass. Drinking at nine in the morning. Asking young, innocent pregnant ladies to help him into cabs.]

HE ON THE GROUND: "I'm just dizzy. I just need a cab. I live around the corner."

[Sure you do. I'll bet. Wait till the cops show up Buddy. I've seen this before...you'll stand up suddenly, act all fine and fall flat on your face. As you've apparently been doing all morning. Go ahead. Yell at everyone around you. Start talking to yourself. Mutter away you poor drunk. I'm just standing here till the cops get here.]

I look at him, really look at him for the first time and notice he has a kind face that doesn't necessarily have the markings of a hard drinkin' transient living under the bridge. He has an earring in one ear. He seems clean, sweet, a little older than me...and I notice he is getting increasingly pale. I squat down next to him.

ME: "Sir. Are you OK? You look very pale."

HE ON THE GROUND: "I'm just dizzy. I tripped back there and fell. On my face."

[That explains all the dried, brown stuff down his shirt and pants. I think his nose is bleeding.]

ME: "Sir. Do you know the number of someone I can call?"

HE ON THE GROUND: "I just stepped out for a minute. I don't have my phone. I don't know any numbers. It's moving day. That's why I'm dressed this way."

[Hmmm. No phone, eh? You're old enough to memorize a number. Maybe you are drunk. Wait...paleness again...I think he's fading...]

I see a traffic cop pull up next to us. Russian girl has asked that I wait with her. I nod a firm 'I'm not leaving now that I'm involved'. A middle aged man in shorts and blue t-shirt stands with us and says nothing. He walks over to the traffic cop who drives off. Guess the cop was on break.

ME: "Sir. You look pale again. How are you doing?"

HE ON THE GROUND: "I'm just dizzy."

He spots my iPhone.

HE ON THE GROUND: "Can you email my friend?"

[OHHH. KAAAY. It is official. I'm the ass. Pregnant Russian girl is not the victim here. Let it go. Shake that assessment missy. Sergeant-Jim-Crowley much?]

ME: "OF COURSE! Yes. What is the email?"

He spells it out and tells me to tell his friend that 'Leonard fell'. His friend, Dave, is at work and going to help him move today. The ambulance pulls up. I ask the EMT where they are taking him so I can alert his friend. I'm told they are not allowed to reveal such information as it is confidential. Leonard looks at the side of the ambulance and turns to me:

"St. Luke's."

And I'm the one trying to help. Leonard had to point out my email capabilities and how to read the side of an ambulance. I need stronger coffee.

I remember thinking I had grown as an individual the day I realized having expectations about someone or something was one of the most threatening things you could do to yourself. If you don't expect anything, you can be flexible. You can bend with the wind. Expectations are scary. But, expectations can be pleasantly unmet.

"You cain't alweys geat whatchu waaant..."

I have since determined that there is nothing as scary as disappointment. When you're disappointed, you're hurt and no one likes pain. Especially the lonely kind. The relative to you and only you kind. Maybe Leonard can teach me about that one. Is he up yet?

I got an email from Dave and Leonard when they got back from the hospital. When Leonard fell prior to crossing my path he broke his knee cap and fractured his elbow. And he only said he was dizzy! Dave assured me Leonard doesn't drink, especially not at nine in the morning.

What a nice surprise.

Au Revoir Simone

There has been an influx of Goodbye Gatherings in my life lately. I guess if you're struggling for work in this economy, living in one of the most expensive cities in the world kind of poses an obstacle.

I hope the internet will make it easier to hang on to the Gold friends. At least satisfy that 'where are they now?' itch.

My first high school boyfriend found me on Facebook the other day.

Will class reunions become obsolete? Maybe we'll all just Skype each other. I'll be sure to set my camera up high and to the right.