“I can’t talk to him! He’s not wearing any socks.”
Short version: Because I was crazy. Long version: Because I was crazy and living in a city full of crazies. And all of us crazies think our drama is terribly important. Which only leads to more crazy.
I was thinking about this today, because I did yoga this morning and, as usual, had a mild panic attack during camel pose. This is apparently not uncommon. Camel pose opens up your chest in a way we’re not used to, especially if the “we” in question types for a living. But also, it releases all kinds of weird stored up emotions.
Today, doing my poor man’s version of camel pose (which probably looked to a casual observer like a normal person sitting up straight) I felt weirdly heart-broken and anxious, like I was about to lose my job or get broken up with or be forced to move out of my house. If you believe in this stuff, and of course I do, the emotions you feel during poses are emotions that your body has stored up.
So apparently, my body remembers all kinds of things my mind forgets. Maybe I should buy it some chocolates or something. Or keep doing camel pose until my body cries itself out.
In this case, what is it with people and the phone? I’ve been doing Match.com lately and so far, so good. A few guys, though, are totally in love with their phones and insistent on talking to me over them before we hang out. No offense, my very new friend, but I don’t know you well enough yet to know if I want you to be able to ring me up at all hours of the day and night. That’s why the email system has a double-blind dealie: So that if one of us decides that the other is crazy, we don’t have to talk to each other anymore.
The other day, I was supposed to hang out with a Match.com dude, but had to cancel to go to a coworker’s housewarming. I apologized, of course – although no creepy card this time – and suggested we hang out this week.
His email said, OK, I’m free Wednesday. Call me Tuesday at such and such a number; I’ll be home at 7.
I wrote back and said, hey, why don’t we just meet somewhere Wednesday, since we’re both free.
He wrote back and said, OK, call me Wednesday and we’ll figure out a place.
Do you suppose that he’s had extremely bad luck with dating women who secretly sound like Minnie Mouse? By the way, I’m totally sure that right this very moment he’s complaining to his internet friends about the crazy girl who won’t use the phone. But I’ll cop to that. I am that girl.
Everyone is completely crackers today. My landlord just called me up to tell me that my cleaning person left the cardboard boxes unsorted – UNSORTED! IN PARK SLOPE! – in the neighbor’s yard, and then left the front door unlocked. All of which is totally anger-making and I get that, but:
1) He called when I was having possibly the finest nap I’ve had in years.
2) He told me each of the cleaning woman’s crimes exactly twice, and would have told me three times, except that I cut him off by promising to monitor her closely in the future. Poor thing.
I am an adult, however, so I sent him a nice note apologizing for the inconvenience. The fact that I chose the blank card with the child’s drawing of a differently-abled dj with ginormous headphones means nothing at all, and certainly isn’t passive aggressive in the slightest. It could have been the clown. No one wants the clown.
Moss: I’m back!
me: hi hi hi!
how are you?
Moss: I’m good!
well, last night not so much
me: i was going to go do yoga, but instead i’m going to do noga
Moss: my shoulder felt like it grew a 3rd head
Moss: and then…
haven’t been body tuning :(
me: oh crippety crap
Moss: i was doing bookkeeping – receipts / reimbursables for our big ass invoice
and L-1 visa paperwork for my boss
Moss: and my cat figured out a new spring board for the counter
so onto counter she spirits
followed by slide on the receipts
and into the glass of wine
me: OH NO
Moss: which tips over and crashes into a million pieces
which scares her
and she hightails it back off
knocking over bottle of wine onto my laptop
which i haven’t yet returned to my old job
which then won’t wortk
me: oh my god in heaven!
what is going ON?
Moss: which meant i couldn’t do the next 3+ hours of work that i needed to do
me: christ in a bucket!
Moss: my roommate, who is obviously the smartest girl in the room…
goes to her room
and emerges with not one but TWO valium and pops them in my mouth
then cleans up
god bless her
ok, i love her
Moss: it was the most comic scene ever
me: that’s perfect
Moss: and Sam lived to see another day
me: that is exactly what was required
Moss: lucky kitty
i notice when she’s bad, she become THE CAT
me: THE CAT has fucked things up!
i wish sam would come back
and take THE CAT away
Jennie Smash: hey, park sloper
Jennie Smash: is it safe for me to walk from my apt to stonehome in ft greene tonight?
Jennie Smash: or do i need to get a car?
Drunken Mouse: it is pretty safe
Jennie Smash: that’s what i thought
Jennie Smash: and it’s a nice walk
Jennie Smash: i have a match.com date
Drunken Mouse: walk straight down flatbush to bam
Jennie Smash: and i just realized that he’s not smiling with teeth in this picture
Jennie Smash: do we think he’s toothless?
Jennie Smash: i bet you five dollars he’s toothless
Drunken Mouse: HA!
Drunken Mouse: no
Drunken Mouse: i hate smiling full teeth
Drunken Mouse: so i avoid it
Jennie Smash: ok, then
Jennie Smash: (i am calling you if he has no teeth)
As I’ve mentioned previously on this here blog, I am a sweaty person. So probably the last thing I needed was to sign up for an exercise class that makes even normal people perspire freely. And yet, I decided to try the Bikram yoga that all the kids are doing, because I am a glutton for punishment.
Bikram, in case you don’t know, is yoga for the criminally insane. You spend an hour and a half doing contortions in a 100-degree room, sweating and feeling like you’re going to throw up. The room smells like balls, armpits, and feet. When you leave, you feel elated, mostly because you don’t feel like you’re going to vomit anymore, which is always nicer than feeling like you’re going to vomit. (I think we can all agree to this.)
Today was my first class. I loved it, needless to say, and am going back tomorrow. My goal is to not have to spend 15 minutes of the class crouched on my mat, staring at my spread hands like an animal and trying not to barf.
Re: like an animal … the instructor, who was very nice, let me sit and look green for as long as I needed to, but he did tell me to try to breathe through my nose. Apparently, if you breath through your mouth, your thoughts get scattered, like an animal, etc. and so on. No worries there. Thoughts already scattered, pal! Arf!