One Nation, Under God

I have jury duty tomorrow morning.

1. It is 12:20a and I'm finishing my second glass of wine.

2. Greg and I are about to start another episode of Big Love.

3. I might decide at 2:30a it is time to mop the kitchen floor since Greg has a friend coming to stay with us on Wednesday.

When I show up at the court house ['court house'...like I live in Mayberry...] at 8:46a will they let me in the door?

Actually, I will probably be early. I'm oddly excited. Most people want to get out of THE DUTY but I welcome it! I will sit squinchy-faced when that smooth-talking-misogynistic-handsome lawyer tries to change my opinion. I will cross my emotionless arms across my emotionless chest when the hottie-deep-throated-ball-crushing lawyer tries to sway my feminist tendencies to her persuasion. I will look solely at the facts. And do my DUTY. I am an American. I am a NYC citizen. Lives are at stake here.

I have been watching too much Law & Order.

Boutellona

She has thick, wavy wild hair and sometimes she sings or dances, speaks out loud or cries when she paints large rolling strokes across a wet linen canvas. One side of her cottage is glass and the view is bright, living green. When it rains, she lights candles and invites her husband to lay on the floor with his head next to the glass so he can see what the grass sees. When she becomes a mother, she will teach her children to climb and they will all learn how to build a tree house together.

Haiku - The Lazy Gal's Poetry

can you understand

just how the other half gives ?

keep eyes wide and see

How Much Wood Could a Woodchuck Chuck?

One day my mom was moving, again, and decided she was tired of hauling my boxes of doll house furniture and Duran Duran trading cards from attic to attic. She boxed them up and mailed them to my office. I don't have a car and at the time my apartment was about the size of the boxes combined.

I purged.

I still have my first Cabbage Patch Kid and my twirling badges but I was forced to decide between my yellowing sticker collection and a much needed blender. Kitchens are for kitchen things and whiskey.

We all have those moments where we dig through memories. Sometimes they don't even belong to us but we do it because we know there is a story there and if we find enough layers, pieces, segments we'll be able to stand back and see a larger picture. Gain an understanding from a micro perspective before we see the macro. Maybe even learn how to build one. Crack in the pavement and Grand Canyon...same relative principal.

I think what I'm saying here is I'd like a new desk.

...when the dog bites, when the bee stings...

As the official mail recipient of my office, I sort all the junk and snag all the fun stuff that was sent to former employees. Today I swiped a postcard with the image of a human brain slathered in drippy, Barbie-pink paint. It makes me feel happy and giggly and now I have it resting in a frame next to my phone.

I'm not sure what this means.

Outing My Brother

This morning my eyes popped open and I discovered I was an Adult with a capital A.

I was talking to my beloved younger brother last night and after hanging up the phone I found myself worried with a capital W. I've watched myself increase this part of how I care for him throughout our lives but this time it bled into my self conscious and this time instead of yelling at him I woke up realizing I needed to help him, not advise him to death.

I still called at 7:30a and yelled at him.

The boy won't do his taxes. He runs his own business and the IRS is going to hunt him down and drag him away in chains. It took a while for me to realize this, but I have to admit, my reasons for helping him came out of a selfish place. I'd like my brother to be at my wedding and I'd like to not have to get a second job to bail him out of jail.

So I'm going to take it upon myself to figure out his taxes. This should be fun considering I'm a secretary with a Theatre degree. He may as well have his cat's help.

I now understand the meaning of parental-big-sister love. Cover their butt so yours doesn't get whipped.

Fear + Experience + Responsibility = Adult with a capital M...for Martyr.

This might have something to do with the fact I'm currently being audited.

Save Art Anyway You Can

I heard Ohio Theatre was being squeezed out of their space. I went to the website of the folks who bought the building where the Ohio has been for the last 30 years and found a "News" section. They proudly displayed a link from The New York Observer titled: Zar Snags Another Soho Lovely; Theater Group Fears Eviction.
I clicked on it to read more. The journalist states the facts, reporting 'good for Zar; bad for theatre' and quotes language from each company's website - "Zar Property NY has not let the fears of a commercial meltdown or "credit crunch" slow them down."

I decided I had to say my peace anyway I could. So I emailed the President.

"He'll think TWICE before he buys another multi-million dollar property!"

I realize an email is maybe as powerful as flipping off a bomb but I had to do it. I have to start opening my mouth if I want to feel integrity about my beliefs.


And I think I'm a little bored at work.


Dear Dario Zar:

I am not sure I recall having ever written my opinion to a complete stranger before except the time I wrote to Ronald Reagan when I was eight. But I read a story about your acquisition and went to your website. Then I read another article posted in the "News" section of your site. And I just HAD to say this to you. Please know I am typing with compassion for you and all of humanity. "Fears of commercial melt down and credit crunching" do not affect people who base their success on tangible 'acquisitions'. I honestly hope that one day you realize the true value of nurturing our most human element: Art. And I truly hope, for your own guilt and pain that WILL sneak up on you, it is not too late. This will affect something you love. Money is nice and if trophies are what you desire, you could at the very least give to those who are not capable of being like you but give to the world in a different, necessary way. They too must survive in this world. What happens to us when they die? Let the Ohio stay. Hell, it would be better press for you. I have no direct connection with the Ohio. I just performed there once and I just had to say that. Thank you for reading if you got this far.

Jennifer Boutell