Ti voglio bene - Italian
Je'taime - French
Te quiero - Spanish
Miluji te - Czech
Tsi ge yu i - Cherokee
Ta gra agam ort - Gaelic
S'agapo - Greek
Aloha au la`oe
Aishiteru - japanese
Eu te amo - Portuguese
Friday, June 17, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Beach Houses
The hurricane hit Mass yesterday. Bill and I were in Portsmouth watching the Bruins, ordering the best wangs ever, and we couldn't stay in our seats. The light outside was so crazy. First it was blue with these awesome, puffy clouds. Then the skies were tinted hot, soft, pink. Then there was this golden light, like everything was sepia-tioned for twenty minutes or so. One of my bosses, Tharon, was driving home from Waltham when a radio announcer declared a state of emergency and cautioned all drivers to pull over and seek shelter. That's a nice thought, but how do you hide from or prepare for something like a freak tornado? I started thinking about the predictions Bill has been making about this hurricane season, hows it's going to be amazingly bad, and I know he's right. Mass shouldn't be getting this kind of weather and I don't think NH has seen a winter this harsh and cold before now.
I went running on the beach today and could't help but notice how close some of the houses are built to the water. A few have less than a 10 foot buffer of grass between themselves and the sea. Who's bright idea was that? What's going to happen to said houses if hurricane season is freakishly worse than usual? Putting masking tape on the windows, hiding in the basement, what is that going to do for the houses in such close proximity to a being like the Ocean. If you're looking to believe in something bigger than yourself, if you need an example of eternity, you don't have to look any further than the water. The Ocean is life. It is darkness. It is eternal in It's wisdom and It knows it. If you want to test the limits of its mercy and resolve, all you have to do is get too close or go too deep and it may be compelled to remind you just where you stand in the greater scheme of things.
I went running on the beach today and could't help but notice how close some of the houses are built to the water. A few have less than a 10 foot buffer of grass between themselves and the sea. Who's bright idea was that? What's going to happen to said houses if hurricane season is freakishly worse than usual? Putting masking tape on the windows, hiding in the basement, what is that going to do for the houses in such close proximity to a being like the Ocean. If you're looking to believe in something bigger than yourself, if you need an example of eternity, you don't have to look any further than the water. The Ocean is life. It is darkness. It is eternal in It's wisdom and It knows it. If you want to test the limits of its mercy and resolve, all you have to do is get too close or go too deep and it may be compelled to remind you just where you stand in the greater scheme of things.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Toro: the Neighborhood Friendly Boy
That’s how Bill introduced you to me, as the neighborhood friendly boy, the beach boy, the best boy. You were all those things. You died on Wednesday, it was awful. Nat found you and he covered you with your blanket. You waited until everyone was gone and then you left too. Bill called me on his way home from work, he sounded okay then, I cried like a baby. He said I could come over for a small ceremony, but I had to keep it together. I thought he was serious. I had to wash my face twice and put on makeup just to look remotely composed. When I got to your house it was dark. I brought dinner and Jameson and found that I was already two shots behind. There is something so unnerving, so endearing, and so horrible about seeing grown men cry, even if they are young men. It means something horrible really has happened. Then your Papa came home. Nat had called him at work and he’d rushed to get to you. We picked a spot and dug your grave together, on the side of the Squire. Originally, Papa Dave was going to put you in his Mom’s backyard, but we didn’t want you stuck with a pack of ferrel chihuahuas for eternity. Your Pap carried you outside and everyone said something, you’re buried with Bill’s blanket, my scarf and a rock. Yesterday your boys put rocks over your spot and Bill even tossed one in the ocean for you. He’s really sad. You know he’s a stoic, but he loved you so much, he cried as much as I did- that’s a lot. At least I can get away from it, the truth, they can’t. They walk around the Squire and everything reminds them of you. We’re watching out for your Pap, making sure he’s okay in your absence. We miss you boy and we’ll love you always.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Unemployment
I got laid off yesterday. In parting, my former employer gave me two weeks severance, a quick apology, and the promise of a sterling recommendation. The best thing about being laid off, is nothing. Like grief, coming to terms with unemployment has it's stages. Shock, anger, sadness, bad TV, panic, more sadness, drunkenness, laziness, the list goes on. The problem is, it seems you don't experience each stage just once. I've cried about it at least three times, I've panicked even more than that, but it's the bad TV thats bothering my currently. I saw at least three previews for movies about getting married and they're all coming out in the next few weeks. What the hell is that? Sure, for the people getting married this spring or summer, it's very cutesy; but what about the rest of us? What about the people way too unattractive to embrace the idea of marriage? What about the hopelessly unemployed (c'est moi)? The crazy cat ladies? The elderly? Homosexual individuals (in most states)? You couldn't throw us a zombie flick, maybe a heist, or some form of espionage since we're clearly not getting married and thus cannot identify? I think the titles of the upcoming "films" are something like, " Bridesmaids", "Something Borrowed", and I can't remember the other one but it was pretty lame too.
Day two of being laid off, I had to go shopping for an interview outfit. Since, I wore scrubs to my last job, I really don't have any formal work clothing. After the second hour of shopping, I began to envy the people who become suicidal when they're laid off. I've applied to 16 jobs so far and am either under or overqualified for all but one. That one is perfect and I'm willing to bet it'll be the one I never hear back from. Just kidding, I don't plan on hearing back from at least half of them. Ouch.
Day two of being laid off, I had to go shopping for an interview outfit. Since, I wore scrubs to my last job, I really don't have any formal work clothing. After the second hour of shopping, I began to envy the people who become suicidal when they're laid off. I've applied to 16 jobs so far and am either under or overqualified for all but one. That one is perfect and I'm willing to bet it'll be the one I never hear back from. Just kidding, I don't plan on hearing back from at least half of them. Ouch.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Cocoa Puffs
I really like that we're not pussy-footing around with chocolate flavored cereals anymore. Move over Count Chocula, Cocoa Puffs, and Cocoa Pebbles, because Kellogg's is straight up puting chocolate chunks in their cereal. Also, apparently if I eat this crap twice a day I'll actually lose weight. What has become of the food pyramid in this country?
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Get past it...
If you smoke cigarettes, you're going to get cancer. If you engage in unprotected sex, you could get pregnant or contract some horrible STD. If you drink too much on the reg you're liver is going to become riddled with scar tissue and eventually fail. Fine.
Know what else? If you cook over charcoal, you could get cancer. If you spend too much time in the sun you could get cancer. If you get a tattoo you could gets aids or hepatitis. If you pick your scabs you could get MRSA. If you lay in the sand without a beach towel under you you could get ringworm. If you travel outside the US you might get kidnapped and sold as a sex slave. If eat sushi you could get food poisoning. If you share a drink with someone you could get herpes. If you yadda, yadda, yadda you could get spider veins, splinters, whiplash, blindness, tinnitus, lockjaw, rabies, spam. The list goes on and it's exhausting.
The solution? The only one I've found that works anyway, just get past it. Just handle it. Do the minimum: be monogamous or use a condom, stop drinking once you feel fuzzy, don't smoke cigarettes if you can help it, wear sunscreen, and don't tell the attractive gentleman at the bar in Paris where you're staying. Fuck the rest of it. We're all going to die of something anyway, it'll probably be horrible, so just deal with it when you get there.
Know what else? If you cook over charcoal, you could get cancer. If you spend too much time in the sun you could get cancer. If you get a tattoo you could gets aids or hepatitis. If you pick your scabs you could get MRSA. If you lay in the sand without a beach towel under you you could get ringworm. If you travel outside the US you might get kidnapped and sold as a sex slave. If eat sushi you could get food poisoning. If you share a drink with someone you could get herpes. If you yadda, yadda, yadda you could get spider veins, splinters, whiplash, blindness, tinnitus, lockjaw, rabies, spam. The list goes on and it's exhausting.
The solution? The only one I've found that works anyway, just get past it. Just handle it. Do the minimum: be monogamous or use a condom, stop drinking once you feel fuzzy, don't smoke cigarettes if you can help it, wear sunscreen, and don't tell the attractive gentleman at the bar in Paris where you're staying. Fuck the rest of it. We're all going to die of something anyway, it'll probably be horrible, so just deal with it when you get there.
Friday, April 29, 2011
On being deathly afraid of spiders...not me
I was sitting at my desk at work, when I saw the most tremendous thing. Imagine what a gazelle would look like, a partially retarded gazelle, if it was in fact a reggae fan, trying to play hopscotch. How it would jump and jive and, I don't know, wail. That is what my co-worker looked like when she spotted a spider descending from the ceiling. I'm not a fan of spiders personally, never have been. This week they have punctuated my life in several instances. I killed one with a hair spray bottle yesterday. I found one in my hair the night before. I murdered a large on in my shower not five minutes ago, but being stricken by their very presence is not something that I am accustomed to. Laura is and that's interesting. In the presence of spiders she cannot conduct herself like a normal person should. In front of an audience composed of her work peers she was rendered completely helpless by a small spider. How is that possible? When and how can we all experience that particular kind of humility? In death? That's the only way I can imagine it.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
LOVE: Actualization, not realization
To "actualize" something is to make it real; to realize something means it's already real, it's been there all along, but you were to numb or myopic or lame to get it. I hate it when people say super corny things like, "I didn't realize I loved Blank until now." Really? You were to dumb right up until this very moment in time to comprehend a feeling specific to you?
I think love is actualized, not realized; or at least I think it should be. I think as rational beings, (which women are nearly three weeks out of every month, depending on alcohol consumption to weight ratio) we weigh our options, we take into account compatibilities, and we are cognizant of patterns. We review social interactions, art preferences, bathroom habits, etc, and we come to a conclusion.
For example, Blank gets along really well with my friends (social), we've only ever had one or two disagreements and they were nothing serious (pattern), we like the same movie genres, the same music (compatibility), he brushes his teeth regularly, he has a job, and I like his smile. Boom: Yes, I will love Blank, cue the fireworks. We weighed the pros and cons and Blank came out on top; love was actualized, not realized.
Sometimes analysis is not, or should not be required. For example, I have a very good friend who recently said to me, "He isn't mean to me all the time." That's not a red flag, that's a torpedo exploding in your face (cue sexual innuendo). If, "He's not mean to me all the time" made it into the list of pros of this particular Blank, it's time to wake the fuck up and move on. Thanks so much for playing.
Now, on the basis that love is actualized, that it is in fact a choice, that means there can be mistakes. We can choose to love the wrong people and we can choose not to love people that may have potentially been right. I don't think there's ever a good reason to love the wrong people and I attribute it mostly to loneliness or fear of loneliness. Choosing not to love the right people may have good reasoning behind it though.
For example, I love Blank. He is kind and funny. We have a great deal in common, we share many of the same morals, values, and goals for the future; including practical ones, such as how many children we would have and where we'd like to live. I am nice to Blank, we get along, he finds me physically attractive, sexually satisfying, he enjoys my company, conversation, and he makes an effort to spend a good deal of his free time with me. However, Blank does not love me. I meet his needs, we're compatible in every way, he says I'm great, but Blank does not love me. Why? He doesn't know. It could be that there's something wrong with me he isn't telling me about. I make a lot less money than him, maybe he doesn't like that I floss in front of him or that my hair is often frizzy. It could be a lot of things, but I think it's that he's not ready to be in love. He's not ready to settle down. Timing is everything, maybe if I'd come along 10 years down the road, when he was more stable and ready to take the next step in his adult life, he would love me; but that's not how things panned out. Am I ready to settle down, no, but I would gladly go on any adventure with him at my side. That's me though.
I think love is actualized, not realized; or at least I think it should be. I think as rational beings, (which women are nearly three weeks out of every month, depending on alcohol consumption to weight ratio) we weigh our options, we take into account compatibilities, and we are cognizant of patterns. We review social interactions, art preferences, bathroom habits, etc, and we come to a conclusion.
For example, Blank gets along really well with my friends (social), we've only ever had one or two disagreements and they were nothing serious (pattern), we like the same movie genres, the same music (compatibility), he brushes his teeth regularly, he has a job, and I like his smile. Boom: Yes, I will love Blank, cue the fireworks. We weighed the pros and cons and Blank came out on top; love was actualized, not realized.
Sometimes analysis is not, or should not be required. For example, I have a very good friend who recently said to me, "He isn't mean to me all the time." That's not a red flag, that's a torpedo exploding in your face (cue sexual innuendo). If, "He's not mean to me all the time" made it into the list of pros of this particular Blank, it's time to wake the fuck up and move on. Thanks so much for playing.
Now, on the basis that love is actualized, that it is in fact a choice, that means there can be mistakes. We can choose to love the wrong people and we can choose not to love people that may have potentially been right. I don't think there's ever a good reason to love the wrong people and I attribute it mostly to loneliness or fear of loneliness. Choosing not to love the right people may have good reasoning behind it though.
For example, I love Blank. He is kind and funny. We have a great deal in common, we share many of the same morals, values, and goals for the future; including practical ones, such as how many children we would have and where we'd like to live. I am nice to Blank, we get along, he finds me physically attractive, sexually satisfying, he enjoys my company, conversation, and he makes an effort to spend a good deal of his free time with me. However, Blank does not love me. I meet his needs, we're compatible in every way, he says I'm great, but Blank does not love me. Why? He doesn't know. It could be that there's something wrong with me he isn't telling me about. I make a lot less money than him, maybe he doesn't like that I floss in front of him or that my hair is often frizzy. It could be a lot of things, but I think it's that he's not ready to be in love. He's not ready to settle down. Timing is everything, maybe if I'd come along 10 years down the road, when he was more stable and ready to take the next step in his adult life, he would love me; but that's not how things panned out. Am I ready to settle down, no, but I would gladly go on any adventure with him at my side. That's me though.
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