Through some convoluted chain of thoughts yesterday, I started reminiscing about one of my good childhood friends, circa 4th, 5th, 6th grade, Lisa M. She wasn't my best friend--that would in those years be Debbie L, who had an unfortunate tendency to throw me beneath the train, by, for instance, showing one of my private (and potentially embarrassing) communications to one of the Mean Girls*** in our class, but since we were all like eleven at the time and Debbie L's father was one of the most scarily abusive assholes out there, we won't judge her too harshly, hmm?--but Lisa M and I were tight. We had this whole plan for our future wherein we would publish books that I wrote and she illustrated. She was the first person to whom I confided that I'd gotten my period. We had long, involved, puzzled discussions about sex: we knew theoretically what was supposed to go where, but the mechanics of how exactly two people made that happen was a complete mystery. She was, in short, a cool girl.
Well, at some point, in our elementary school years together, Lisa M's dad sadly died of cancer. And at some point, maybe a year, maybe two years later, her mother, who was a waitress, remarried, to one of her customers. There was a lot of gossip that this occurred "too soon" and speculation that her mother was chatting up, perhaps even dating, this guy before her husband was actually in the ground. I believe my own mother, bless her, was on the side of, "well, if so, who's to say she was wrong, and who's to say her husband didn't encourage her finding someone else once he knew he wasn't gonna make it, her having two little kids to support and all." Anyway, Lisa M's mom did remarry and, since this guy had money, moved Lisa and her sister to Beverly Farms. (North Shore geographical note: "Beverly Farms", where people who live in Beverly, but who have pretensions say they reside. See also, "West Peabody", "Magnolia" and "Bradford".) This was less than ten miles away, but when you are 11, ten miles may as well be one hundred and fifty, y'know? So, though we spoke on the phone on and off for another year, we never saw each other again, and then eventually lost touch altogether.
I think, of all the people from my childhood or adolescence who I don't know what happened to, she is perhaps the only one that I would like to meet again. Did she keep drawing? What does she look like now? Is she still cool and funny and totally trustworthy? Did things work out between her mom and her stepfather? How did she feel about all that?
Thing is, I have no idea what her name is now. She may, of course, have married. Maybe more than once, hey. And even before that, there's the chance she took her stepfather's name. I googled the name I knew her by and found a young black woman in Los Angeles and a woman, more or less the same age as us, from Georgia, who tragically died at 41. So, no luck.
xoxo
***said Mean Girl OD'd on drugs in our 20s, so we won't judge her too harshly either, though she was a fucking bitch
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
i r a bad feminist
On one of the websites I read fairly frequently, there was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth yesterday about an Australian newspaper article in which the (female) author asked, "Whatever happened to wifely duty?" and suggested that women, even if not exactly in the mood, suck it up and accommodate their amorous husbands, and that "just doing it" usually leads to more and better sex.
As much as I would like to work myself up into a lather about this and suggest it's advocating marital rape, denying a woman ownership of her own body, that it's not 1950 or 1850, and so forth and so on, I cannot. I ::sob:: agree with it. If there's one thing I really wish I had done differently in my former marriage, one lesson I have learned since, it's that saying "no" too much is really bad for your relationship, specifically the intimacy in your relationship, and that, indeed, if you don't say no and just go with it even if you aren't initially feeling it, you almost invariably end up enjoying yourself.
Okay, you say, that's easy for you to say, Andrea. A low sex drive is not one of your (many and varied) problems. In fact, we your blog readers suspect you're kinda a big slut. Ah, blog readers, I counter, that has not been uniformly true throughout the course of my adult life. In fact, I was just telling a friend this very afternoon that during my pregnancy with D, my husband and I might have had sex once. Perhaps. I had no interest. At all. Did I feel guilty about making the father of my child go basically without for about a year? No. Should I have? Well, um, yeah. Damn right. If p-i-v wasn't on the menu, there's a lot of other things that I should have been happily willing to do to for someone that I reputedly loved. Complete self-centeredness is rarely the right choice.
So, yeah, I r a bad feminist.
Except. I think it absolutely goes the other way too. It's not wifely duty, it's spousely duty. And it's not duty, it's a spirit of openness and care and rejection of rejection towards someone you love. Why is that wrong?
xoxo
As much as I would like to work myself up into a lather about this and suggest it's advocating marital rape, denying a woman ownership of her own body, that it's not 1950 or 1850, and so forth and so on, I cannot. I ::sob:: agree with it. If there's one thing I really wish I had done differently in my former marriage, one lesson I have learned since, it's that saying "no" too much is really bad for your relationship, specifically the intimacy in your relationship, and that, indeed, if you don't say no and just go with it even if you aren't initially feeling it, you almost invariably end up enjoying yourself.
Okay, you say, that's easy for you to say, Andrea. A low sex drive is not one of your (many and varied) problems. In fact, we your blog readers suspect you're kinda a big slut. Ah, blog readers, I counter, that has not been uniformly true throughout the course of my adult life. In fact, I was just telling a friend this very afternoon that during my pregnancy with D, my husband and I might have had sex once. Perhaps. I had no interest. At all. Did I feel guilty about making the father of my child go basically without for about a year? No. Should I have? Well, um, yeah. Damn right. If p-i-v wasn't on the menu, there's a lot of other things that I should have been happily willing to do to for someone that I reputedly loved. Complete self-centeredness is rarely the right choice.
So, yeah, I r a bad feminist.
Except. I think it absolutely goes the other way too. It's not wifely duty, it's spousely duty. And it's not duty, it's a spirit of openness and care and rejection of rejection towards someone you love. Why is that wrong?
xoxo
Monday, March 2, 2009
comments, we get comments
I was talking with someone recently--Mr Indemnity, was it you?--about how the most consistently jaw-droppingly weird comments/replies you could ever think to read are on, of all places, boston.com. It doesn't seem to matter what I read over there, any dip into the commentary is just head-spinning. And I have no idea why. Are these all the same people who used to write crank nutty letters to the editor back in the day when people didn't read the newspaper all online?
Today, for example, I accidentally came across the following (in reply to a question about "Facebook cheating"):
Make no mistake, this is the day and age of the restless married woman. I know 14 men (including myself) between the ages of 38-45 (all with multiple children under the age of 10) and all going through the same mess. We're all married to selfish women who looked in the mirror one morning, saw a few wrinkles and scared themselves into believing there was something better out there - and it seems to be contageous. Forget about respect for themselves or their families, they feel it's better to lie and betray rather than deal with their feelings in a responsible PAXIL FREE way. They have no regard for the real victims - THEIR KIDS. My recommendation - launch her, focus on you and your kids and most of all - move because she's beneath you.
Really, dude? Really??!???
You know *13* other guys who are being cheated on? And have told you about it? Do you belong to some kind of club or support group or something? Or do you just live in the World of Massive Over-share? Maybe I'd believe it more if these mythical lying hussies didn't *all* have multiple children under the age of ten, 'cause that tends to suck the life out of most people's sex drives, n'est pas?, as well as taking up enormous amounts of time that might otherwise be spent on whoring around. And then there's the hilarious all-capped apparent rant against antidepressants. Tom Cruise, is that you? Besides which, Paxil--excuse me, PAXIL--will pretty much suck the life out of most people's sex drives, too, so I don't really imagine all fourteen cheating sluts are on it anyway.
Hoo boy.
But, as god is my witness, this is a wholly typical and representative comment in that venue. Maybe the powers-that-be ought to dose the Quabbin with some prophylactic PAXIL and calm down most of the state.
xoxo
Today, for example, I accidentally came across the following (in reply to a question about "Facebook cheating"):
Make no mistake, this is the day and age of the restless married woman. I know 14 men (including myself) between the ages of 38-45 (all with multiple children under the age of 10) and all going through the same mess. We're all married to selfish women who looked in the mirror one morning, saw a few wrinkles and scared themselves into believing there was something better out there - and it seems to be contageous. Forget about respect for themselves or their families, they feel it's better to lie and betray rather than deal with their feelings in a responsible PAXIL FREE way. They have no regard for the real victims - THEIR KIDS. My recommendation - launch her, focus on you and your kids and most of all - move because she's beneath you.
Really, dude? Really??!???
You know *13* other guys who are being cheated on? And have told you about it? Do you belong to some kind of club or support group or something? Or do you just live in the World of Massive Over-share? Maybe I'd believe it more if these mythical lying hussies didn't *all* have multiple children under the age of ten, 'cause that tends to suck the life out of most people's sex drives, n'est pas?, as well as taking up enormous amounts of time that might otherwise be spent on whoring around. And then there's the hilarious all-capped apparent rant against antidepressants. Tom Cruise, is that you? Besides which, Paxil--excuse me, PAXIL--will pretty much suck the life out of most people's sex drives, too, so I don't really imagine all fourteen cheating sluts are on it anyway.
Hoo boy.
But, as god is my witness, this is a wholly typical and representative comment in that venue. Maybe the powers-that-be ought to dose the Quabbin with some prophylactic PAXIL and calm down most of the state.
xoxo
snoooowwwwww day
About 45 minutes ago I called work to see if anyone had made it in yet, got our little faux-MILF receptionist, and told her, "Fuck it! I'm not coming in." Now, really, I could have been outside at 9 am clearing snow (so my psycho dad wouldn't do it while I was at work), then come back in to shower, then trudged to the bus stop to wait for a bus that might or might not come, only to make it to work to find out my afternoon patients (which is all I have on Mondays) all cancelled, but doesn't "fuck it" sound like the better option? I can't exactly remember the last time I called into work, but I'm pretty sure it was January 2005. Unlike, say, our office manager who was out three days last week with "strep throat" or one of our docs who was out the better part of a week recently with that stomach thing, 'cause she's got so many pre-existing conditions that every virus is an adventure, or everyone else who's always leaving in the middle of the day because daycare/the babysitter/school called. So I refuse to feel guilty.
Except, you know by my saying that, that I do feel guilty. My parents raised me to be Responsible and Reliable and Hardworking (which is a good thing, because given my well-documented natural tendencies towards sloth, can you just imagine the Cheeto-eating, video-game-playing, unemployment-collecting couch dweller I'd be otherwise?) but sometimes I wish I could turn that off at will.
Discuss with me your own moments of "fuck it!" to make me feel better or, alternately, berate me for my obviously shocking irresponsibility and feed my masochism. Either one's good. Kthxbai.
xoxo
Except, you know by my saying that, that I do feel guilty. My parents raised me to be Responsible and Reliable and Hardworking (which is a good thing, because given my well-documented natural tendencies towards sloth, can you just imagine the Cheeto-eating, video-game-playing, unemployment-collecting couch dweller I'd be otherwise?) but sometimes I wish I could turn that off at will.
Discuss with me your own moments of "fuck it!" to make me feel better or, alternately, berate me for my obviously shocking irresponsibility and feed my masochism. Either one's good. Kthxbai.
xoxo
Sunday, March 1, 2009
*now* my day is complete
I've mentioned my also-embarrassing love for Billy Idol's "White Wedding", the video of which I watched approximately 6837 times in college, not always while intoxicated?
Okay, go watch this: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/f3ef6b6667/white-wedding-literal-video-version#player
I think I just hurt myself laughing. Sundays really are awesome.
xoxo
Okay, go watch this: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/f3ef6b6667/white-wedding-literal-video-version#player
I think I just hurt myself laughing. Sundays really are awesome.
xoxo
what else i want
(Besides, y'know, the Slap Chop.)
I was just lounging in the tub contemplating the universe and my pedicure, which btw is still looking not-so-bad, and I had a brilliant yet untenable idea. What I would really like would be a service like Netflix, but with books. A fabulous middle ground in-between using the library and buying your reading material. Let me explain.
The problem with the library, for me, is that it is convenient neither in terms of location or hours, but more importantly, that there's a time limit on how long you are supposed to keep what you borrow. I know the penalty for late return is extremely minimal, but in moral terms, if you promise to return something in two weeks and you keep it for two months, that's just Not Nice. And sometimes I just want to keep something for two months and digest it slowly (or quickly, but just when I'm in exactly the right mood for it.)
The problem with buying your books, either in the local bookstore or on amazon, is *not* for me, the actual paying for it. Being a writer myself (ha!) I have no problem with authors making at least a pittance for their artistic labors. I in fact heartily support it. My problem with buying books is that then you have them. You can try giving them away to your friends, but all too often they wanna give them back when they're done because they don't have room for them either. You can try to donate them to charity, but that's surprisingly difficult and inconvenient too. You can ::gasp:: toss them, but that's just wrong.
So a Netflix-like service where they conveniently deliver the book you want to your door for a fee, you keep it as long as you damn well please without guilt, and then you send it back, would be perfect. But it would never work. First of all, nobody reads anymore. At least, far far fewer people read books than rent DVDs. Secondly, books are far heavier and more expensive to mail than DVDs, so that would hugely drive up the rental cost, plus, since the postal service won't let you just drop them in a mailbox, every time you wanted to return one you'd have to go to the post office. At which point, convenience-wise, you might as well be going to the library.
Ah, well.
xoxo
I was just lounging in the tub contemplating the universe and my pedicure, which btw is still looking not-so-bad, and I had a brilliant yet untenable idea. What I would really like would be a service like Netflix, but with books. A fabulous middle ground in-between using the library and buying your reading material. Let me explain.
The problem with the library, for me, is that it is convenient neither in terms of location or hours, but more importantly, that there's a time limit on how long you are supposed to keep what you borrow. I know the penalty for late return is extremely minimal, but in moral terms, if you promise to return something in two weeks and you keep it for two months, that's just Not Nice. And sometimes I just want to keep something for two months and digest it slowly (or quickly, but just when I'm in exactly the right mood for it.)
The problem with buying your books, either in the local bookstore or on amazon, is *not* for me, the actual paying for it. Being a writer myself (ha!) I have no problem with authors making at least a pittance for their artistic labors. I in fact heartily support it. My problem with buying books is that then you have them. You can try giving them away to your friends, but all too often they wanna give them back when they're done because they don't have room for them either. You can try to donate them to charity, but that's surprisingly difficult and inconvenient too. You can ::gasp:: toss them, but that's just wrong.
So a Netflix-like service where they conveniently deliver the book you want to your door for a fee, you keep it as long as you damn well please without guilt, and then you send it back, would be perfect. But it would never work. First of all, nobody reads anymore. At least, far far fewer people read books than rent DVDs. Secondly, books are far heavier and more expensive to mail than DVDs, so that would hugely drive up the rental cost, plus, since the postal service won't let you just drop them in a mailbox, every time you wanted to return one you'd have to go to the post office. At which point, convenience-wise, you might as well be going to the library.
Ah, well.
xoxo
1-800-449-7282
Oh, you people who don't get up early-ish on Sunday mornings and put the TV on while you drink your coffee have no idea what you are missing. So I shall tell you! Consider it just another public service of this blog.
Best infomercial-like only-on-tv product evah? The Shoe Skirt! That is--and you can't make this shit up, though obviously some extremely disturbed individual did--a bed skirt with shoe pockets in it which fits under your regular bed skirt, so all your footwear can conveniently be stored hanging from your mattress. Thus freeing up all that extra closet space! You know you want one. (Actually, *I* really want a Slap Chop. Can one of you all buy me one for the next gift-giving occasion? Thx.)
And as a bonus, VH1Classic, in between commercials for things I never knew I needed, just saw fit to show me The Knack playing "My Sharona." Yay! And right now they're showing me David Bowie. Since I would *so* do the 1975 version, the 1985 version, or the 2009 version of David Bowie, this is also stellar.
Sundays are awesome.
xoxo
Best infomercial-like only-on-tv product evah? The Shoe Skirt! That is--and you can't make this shit up, though obviously some extremely disturbed individual did--a bed skirt with shoe pockets in it which fits under your regular bed skirt, so all your footwear can conveniently be stored hanging from your mattress. Thus freeing up all that extra closet space! You know you want one. (Actually, *I* really want a Slap Chop. Can one of you all buy me one for the next gift-giving occasion? Thx.)
And as a bonus, VH1Classic, in between commercials for things I never knew I needed, just saw fit to show me The Knack playing "My Sharona." Yay! And right now they're showing me David Bowie. Since I would *so* do the 1975 version, the 1985 version, or the 2009 version of David Bowie, this is also stellar.
Sundays are awesome.
xoxo
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