Memories of a Grandmother

I try and gain as much knowledge about my maternal grandmother, so I can piece together more of an image of her. She's a part of my history, and one that I feel like I know very little about. I only know of my grandma through stories my Mom and Grandfather have told me. Yet, I feel like she speaks to me in pieces of accounts I get from time to time, which are sprinkled through my life like bread crumbs.

I'm told I have a lot of her in me. That, if one were to compare photos of the three generations: my mother, her mother and myself all have a strong family resemblance. Yet, this woman is an enigma to me. She dances around my sub-consiouse and becomes a different person every time I hear a new story of her. I used to imagine her as a victim of cancer, a poor statistic tragically swiped from existence by an unfeeling disease. Then, when I'd hear stories about how bi-polar she was and the non-stop cigarette smoke that would billow from her mouth, I'd imagine her as a loud, unpredictable, yellow toothed monster, a woman I wouldn't want to spend a lot of time with and certainly not want to let kiss me on the cheek.

I once monologued at her. I was in an audition room and was asked to yell at a family member. I chose Her because I didn't know her. I yelled at her for dying, blaming her cigarette smoke and selfishness and found myself crying in a completely surprising turn of events. Did she hear that speech? Did she understand how frustrating it was to only get snippets of information about her, and how sensational I thought this woman to be? Who was Helen? I see her as a bi-sexual divorcee single mother who travelled around the country in the 60's and 70's teaching english as a college professor and wrote a lot of letters and poetry. She half raised my Mom. She was beautiful. She was flawed.

I wish I had met her. Maybe I'd understand a little more of myself, if I could.

The "Uh Oh" List

I thought about other people I would really not want to run in to: there weren't many. Usually I don't mind seeing someone I know out in public, and usually I get along with most everyone I meet, so thankfully there isn't an army of humans that would make me run for the hills if I saw them. However, I'm sure we all have those 5 or 6 people that would be at the top of the "Please Don't Be Where I Am Right Now, Ever" list.

I went invisible last night. I used my mundane superpower by holding my breath, sucking on my lower lip, looking down at the floor and slowing my pace. I did NOT want the person I had spotted coming toward me to stop and talk to me, or see me or even think about me. I sent a silent prayer to whomever was listening at the moment and begged them to let him walk past me. He did. I don't know for sure if he saw me, I don't want to know, but I did find it funny that we happened to be on the same street at the same time (2am, by the way. What the hell?)

I find it amazing that someone I saw romantically and physically for a while, someone that I devoted a lot of time and energy toward could walk past me on a busy New York street and we could just miss each other. In fact, I wanted him to keep going! That chapter is so done, dude.

I giggled nervously after he passed and allowed myself to become visible again. I took a deep breath and marveled at the power of thought. I'd been thinking about him a lot lately, actually. He'd been coming up in conversations and memories and I wondered if I had conjured him, and that the person I saw walking toward me was just a ghost. I recalled his features: he looked pissed off, annoyed, or concentrating on some big thought. Maybe the ghost of the guy was frustrated that I had woken him up and demanded that he be on the street so late at night.

I am awed by the way events unfold and history loops and people come back into our lives for different reasons. Seeing Him last night made me wonder if I'll run in to other people I really don't want to see, and that by running in to them I'd have some kind of closure, as if, maybe I was the ghost stuck in purgatory and seeing a few people on my "Uh-Oh" list would help me come out of my limbo. I have one or two guys that I am very curious about running in to, even though they are still on my "Come Not Near Me!" side. If I did see them coming toward me, I wonder who would be more freaked? Them or Me? Maybe we'd both become invisible...

Girl Walks In To A Bar...

She's looking to learn something, maybe. Or, she's bored. Or, she's heard great things about this bar and figured she would try it out. She sits down at a stool and looks at the menu written in chalk on the board. That beer looks good, that scotch looks yummy, etc, etc.

A Second girl walks in to the same bar. This girl looks very similar to the first. She's a brunette, pretty, with big brown eyes, just like the first Girl. She too decided for whatever reason to come to this bar and see what the hype was all about. She walks over to the stools and stops. Wait a minute. I know that girl. The 2nd brunette says to herself as she watches the first brunette go over the menu written in chalk on the wall.

Suddenly, an evening that was supposed to be a no-brainer, became a super-brainer.

The Second Girl sits as far away from the First Girl as possible so as to avoid being seen. She picks up a food menu that is sitting on the old wooden dinged up bar top and pretends to be engrossed with the appetizers, but is actually stealing glances at the 1st girl who has just ordered a bourbon (Girl #2's favorite bourbon, as a matter of fact). Now, why should Girl #2 be so thrown off by the first brunette who came in and sat down? What is the reason to send this otherwise ordinary night into a frenzied anxiety attack?

Girl #2 knows Girl #1, but they've never met. It's just that Girl #2 has heard a lot of stories about Girl #1and the second brunette is pretty sure that the first brunette probably has heard of her as well. Tricky? But wait! There's more! These two girls know each other because they have slept with the same manipulative bastard of a guy!! Uh oh. Hold on a minute, though. There's got to be more to the story, right? Oy, yes. Girl #1 dated the guy for years. They broke up, and the guy went and told Girl #2 that he was oh so heart broken and that he could never get back with Girl #1 again, and wouldn't Girl #2 take pity on him and fall into his bed with him and they can live happily ever after? Girl #2 stupidly obliged the offer.

Once Girl #2 spent weeks on the phone with this woman-eating asshole trying to get the guy from dramatically deleting all photos of his previous relationship, and talking him down from acting like a crazy person, the guy suddenly disappeared. Only to resurface again and state that he was back together with Girl #1, but beseeched Girl #2 to please keep her mouth shut about the fact that he had slept with her a number of times because he didn't want Girl #1 to know the full extent of what had happened.

Girl #2 was angry! Actually: beyond angry! She was horribly depressed! She felt used. She felt low and dirty and unworthy. It was a rough summer. She promised herself she would never speak to that guy again and stuck to that promise even after he came crawling back on his knees and begged. Nope. Fuck off.

But, here the two were. Girl #2 didn't know what to do. To what extent did Girl #1 know of the 2nd brunette? What was the etiquette of broaching the subject? Should Girl #2 just ignore Girl #1 and pretend she didn't see her? Or, should she say something?

Girl #2 inched closer to Girl #1. They both really did have a lot in common. Girl #2 felt embarrassed by how much they had in common. Seems that guy liked a certain type, that's for sure...

"Um. Hi. Do you know me?" Girl #2 asked.
"Oh my god. Yes." Girl #1 responded, her eyes getting wide.

The 1st Girl sat holding her bourbon looking agog. The 2nd Girl stood behind the bar stool looking awkward and wishing she was holding a bourbon. Nothing more was said. The two stood and looked at each other for a while, as if what someone seeing a mythical creature they had only heard in legends would look like if that creature suddenly showed up at the bar you decided to drink at that night.

The two girls were still looking at each other at the bar as the scene fades out. There were no more words exchanged... yet. But, somewhere the Guy just woke up in a cold sweat as the nightmare he just dreamt unfolded into a reality.

Oh, Shit. They've met each other...

A Different Set Of Choices Leads To...

I lie awake and think about how different my life could have been had I married my first boyfriend. Then, I think about my first boyfriend and how much of a "first marriage" that would have been and shudder with relief. Then, I realize that I am thinking about the relationship I had with a now married man (What the Hell!?) who really did want to get married and start a family, I just wasn't willing to do that. And then: I think about people I know who did wind up marrying their first loves... cue: my parents.

...and then, I compare where I am now in my life to where my parents were at my age.

I'm by no means wishing I could live the same life my parents led! I gave that idea up when I decided to not marry my first boyfriend when I was 22. That decision made my life go in a completely different direction and now I am writing from an apartment I never could have guessed I would be living in at 25 in a borough I never thought I would be a resident of. Go figure.

My Dad was 25 when my mom and was pregnant. Granted, my mom was 30 when she had me so I will use the time line of my dad as a comparison as he was the same age I am now when I was born.

New York was a completely different place when my folks were here raising me in the early 90's. The Upper West Side near Columbia University was probably like what Franklin Ave. in Crown Heights is today: There were a few unsavory types roaming the gratified streets and the corner deli probably still had chicken wire over the windows. Now, the UWS is an American Apparel sporting, Chase bank rocking, Chipotle eating, plethora of chain stores frequented by Gap wearing Columbia students and Gucci sunglass-ed momma's punching in to their cell phones as they wait for the line of BMW's to cross Broadway before making their way over to the over priced gourmet supermarkets to buy gluten free cookies.

My parents were struggling with bills and making ends meet as my Dad pursued a master's in Library Science and Fatherhood. I remember eating a lot of "Tuna Wiggle" [Tuna Wiggle: A casserole-like stove top dinner recipe for the tight wallet consisting of canned tuna, rice, butter, milk and hard boiled eggs.] Now, at 25, I debate whether I want to buy myself a new pair of expensive leather shoes, or save the cash as plan a trip to China.

Is it that life in the 80's was so different? A couple of my friends are getting married, but just a few, no mass marriage pile-up yet. Will that happen later? Like, when we're all pushing 30? My parent's friends were all getting married at my age, does 25 years make a difference to the marriage age? Or, is it that I live in an urban area and therefore the marriage age is higher?

I don't know. What I do know is that at 25 I am feeling the urge to figure out something like a family and partner for life in a way that feels more biological than logical. (Again: Planning a trip to China and listening to the lady who does my nails bitch about how annoying her two kids are and her lazy husband not doing chores really turns me off of the whole "Family Life" thing for a whole lot longer!) But because this biological clock is going off, lying awake and thinking of what having a baby in my belly would feel like is more and more of a frequent occurence. And, when I do eventually have a family, I can't wait to see what my kid thinks about what Mom was doing at 25. (I may just leave out the fact that I am sharing a room with my sister, and instead inflate the China thing to maybe that I was living there...)

Courage

Courage in myself is verb: an action I take (or don't).

How do I confront someone about things that happened in the past? How do I broach a subject that makes me nervous? How do I admit that I was wrong, or they were wrong or we were wrong or right or stupid or hurtful or life-saving? I find that the amount of courage one has can define a person. I don't argue that someone who is loud is necessarily brave and worth praise or that someone who always blurts out their thoughts is the hero. I think that courage is when someone who might be normally very shy about their feelings, finally steps up to the batter's box and hits a ball out of the park by saying that they're uncomfortable or sad or angry. Courage is knowing when a situation may be very uncomfortable, but for the sake of one's well-being, something must be done to create a better harmony for everyone involved.

I think I struggle with the courage to admit that I need to slow down. I find my brain moving a thousand words an hour and there are no stop signs or speed limits, so I'll just speed up until my motor overheats and I find myself exhausted. Lately, I've been grappling with the idea of what strength is required to say and do the right things for myself when I am around another person. Most times, I find I blow past uncomfortable feelings for the sake of making everyone "feel better" when actually, I don't feel good. I am trying to practice more with having the courage to say what I feel by finding the vocabulary to even describe that feeling. It's a hard road to hoe, and as I practice, I notice others doing the same thing. Maybe that's the defining factor of an adult? Toddlers certainly know how to express their voice, then they lose that ability, and spend their entire adult life re-learning it.

As I think about what it means to be in an interaction with someone else, be it friend, lover, or family member, I really strive to make sense of what it means for me to communicate meaningfully with that person, rather than try and avoid the potential friction. Why is that so hard?! I feel like I am very slowly learning a language and trying very hard to speak it.

As I move forward with upcoming relationships (and there will be a whole lot of that) I find I am the speed cop on that highway were thoughts are moving a thousand words an hour. I have to police these speeding objects and investigate what's going on and slow them down in the hopes that no one goes to fast for their own good. Maybe then, courage and the vocabulary to say and express what I need from someone will feel safe enough to cross the street.

Birthday

It's the last day of being 24.

Most frequently asked question: "What'll you do for your 25th birthday?"

If I could do anything, I'd go to London and spend two weeks partying over there. I'd make a trip to Paris and spend a couple days there as well.

European flights of fancy are not in the cards at the moment.

The 25th year of my life has consisted of many great and wonderfully memorable events, and I'm not sorry about any of them. I'm really stoked about what the 26th year will bring. Hopefully some really big leaps in my career, more travel, some awesome dudes...

I've decided to spend the last day being 24 by going shopping for some fall clothes and trying not to think about organizing something like a party to celebrate. Isn't it funny how 25 seems like such a bigger number than 26? I feel like it's more of a momentous number. A real landmark in age. I'm solidly in my 20's and solidly trying to figure the solids of life out.

I think I'll concentrate on how a new pair of jeans will fit, instead.

Awkward Friend(relation)ship?

Oh, Fuck.

I just said something that really hurt you, and I really said it unintentionally! I promise!

Oy. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. But, I won't say sorry, I'll just back peddle and try to compliment you a lot.

Does that feel better?

Can you tell I feel bad for making you feel bad without saying that I feel bad for making you feel bad out loud?

Complicated. Yes. Like our relationship, No?

Are we emotionally invested in each other more than what the standard opposite-sex friendship should be?
-----> I refuse to believe that we are (even though I know that we are).

Just stay away from me, ok? I'm going to unintentionally hurt you again by telling you about the guy I went out for dinner with, or what my Ex did recently or how I want to see that movie you want to see, but I want to see it with my sister, instead.

No, I'm too busy to hang out this week. Too busy to get dinner. Too busy to do anything, really!

Oh, Fuck.

I am so sorry.

I can't sort out my feelings about you, and you'll just have to forgive me for that, because frankly: I don't want to lose your place in my life because it gives me a sense of worth that is entirely selfish sometimes. Oh, and there are qualities about you that I find irresistibly attractive, and yet I cannot get over my fear of ruining our friendship if, once I've decided that I will sleep with you, I am no longer attracted to you anymore and I don't actually ever want to see you again because I'm reminded of how I feel horribly guilty about "trying you out" and then deciding that you were not what I wanted. And, I think you're in love with me, but not really me, because (apparently) I can be very different in "relationship" mode, and you're really close to me, so maybe that's not who you really want and that's a lot of pressure!

There. I said all of that with my eyes. And you know me so well, I'll bet you picked up on that.

I need more girlfriends.