Ramblings: 38 Weeks and Still Growing...


It’s hard to accept the fact that you are allowed to be tired, that you are allowed to actually not really do anything all day except for watch that TV series that everyone has been telling you to watch for the past year. It’s hard for me, because most of the times in my life when I feel this tired it’s entirely my fault (out partying, up all night writing, stress-related insomnia), so I am so used to pushing myself through it that I feel guilty just letting go and just being tired.

Yesterday I woke up at 3am and couldn’t get back to sleep again for a lot of different reasons. I had to be up at 6am anyway due to an early doctor’s appointment. So I waddled my 38 week pregnant belly to the subway and went to the clinic in Fort Greene to get everything checked up. I guess I am now the one nearest her due date so everyone is very excited for me (they actually were all a lot more excited than I was, it took me enough energy to muster the courage to keep my eyes open during the appointment). I could give birth any day! I waddled back to the subway in the gorgeous sunshine, trying not to burst into tears until I got home.

And then I did what I have never done before, I asked my boss if she had anything important for me to do, because if not I was just going to rest. And guess what?! She told me to rest! Yes, Jade… There IS a reason you are working from home now, and this is because you are supposed to be resting! So for 10 minutes I tried to work, but numbers and words kept flying in front of my face and I couldn’t do anything correctly so I grabbed a cup of tea and went to the couch. Where I stayed until just after 8pm. And from the couch I graduated to the bed, and fell asleep, sleeping about 12 hours of interrupted sleep until this morning. You can’t be too demanding – there is no way on earth I can sleep more than 2 or 3 hours without having to get up. Bathroom trips, water drinking breaks and of course, a cheesecake eating break at 3am when C. got home. I still feel tired today, but more able to function. I think this is the new golden rule… No fighting the fatigue or the sleep: naps and bed whenever my body wants it.

So now the waiting game has begun. Any day now little Munchie could decide that she wants this to be her birthday and she will start making that journey towards daylight. While I would like her to wait until her due date of April 1st, I have now accepted the fact that she might want to come early, or that she might want to come late too. And that’s absolutely fine. I think I am ready to cope. Everything is pretty much ready (apart from all of her little baby clothes need to go to the laundry and I don’t know why we are procrastinating about that); she has a bed and a bouncy chair thing and blankets and clothes for every occasion and diapers and wipes and even heart-shaped sunglasses to match her mummy. She also has a hopefully endless supply of food that my body will provide for her (the alternative is not an option right now, so I really, really hope everything will work properly). And, so important, she has so much love waiting for her here, all that love that we hope we have projected into my womb over the past 9 months, and much, much more. So many people are waiting for her arrival and to finally meet her. Not the least her parents of course!

To be honest I think I have had a wonderful pregnancy, and I have been very lucky that up until a few weeks ago I really didn’t feel uncomfortable or too heavy. I’m not super huge, my weight gain stabilized in the third trimester (so much that I have actually lost a few pounds even though Munchie has gained quite a few); I’ve had a few aches and pains but nothing major. My feet only started swelling this week, after I started to work from home (so now I need to go for little walks every few hours so as not to sit at the table all day without really moving). I just recently had to develop an elaborate roll to get out of bed and that can only be done in at least 3 steps, and I don’t remember what it was like to jump out of bed in a spritely manner! Actually, I don’t remember what “normal” feels like anymore. What actually WAS “normal”?? I don’t really think I care, because that “normal” has gone, and will be replaced by another “normal”, one that I am more than ready to embrace. My main issue other than not being able to walk fast anymore (and I mean SLOW), is a burning pain I began to feel last month at the top of my belly on one side, that has now graduated towards the other side too. I realised that it’s basically from the skin stretching so much, but it wasn’t until I did some research on the web last night and read people describing it as just like a sunburn, without the redness (and without the sun, because that big golden orb has been on another planet for the past 3 months). Aloe Vera! Luckily I always have a big bottle of aloe in the cupboard as I spend enough time on the beach in the summer, and it really helps relive the soreness! Better than any other lotion that I have already tried. Who would have known that all you really need (outside of a good doctor or midwife) is a large bottle of aloe, a large bottle of Tums, a comfy body pillow and a healthy diet to get through these 9 (I mean 10) months? And yes, my iron level is STILL normal, even though I was anemic as a teen and I am a vegetarian. I guess I did something right by listening to my body. 

And I will continue listening to my body after Munchie is born. I’m not too worried about losing the extra weight immediately – it will happen naturally. My body has never been one to put on weight too fast, and if I make sure I get enough exercise I will be fine. I’m honestly looking forward to evening runs in Flushing, and using them to discover new places to go and new parks to take Munchie to in the summer.

Oh summer… I am looking forward to you. Showing my little daughter all of the things that I love about life: sunsets on the beach, waves, walking barefoot in the sand, listening to The Cure while dancing in the living room (not just for summer of course), and reading on a warm park bench under the trees… So much to be excited about!!! In the meantime I will continue to wait at home, not feel guilty about resting anymore, and watch as our cat follows me everywhere I go, just so that he knows that I am OK. Maybe the next post will be one with newborn pictures, or maybe it won’t – now that I am at home I have a little more time and energy to devote to catching up on writing. I say “a little” because a lot of that energy is put into making sure I am happy with how our apartment is set up. And catching up on TV shows. And thinking about making food, and then ordering salads from the delicious diner down the street.

That said, does anyone know where there is a regular supermarket in Flushing? One that isn’t Chinese and that sells an array of Western goods? I was so excited that we had a supermarket within walking distance, but it really doesn’t have a good selection of non-Chinese goods, and I need a little more for my palate!

(On a side note we are EXTREMELY grateful to everyone who has helped us out and given us gifts over the past few months. This alone deserves its own blog post and everyone will receive their own personal thanks, I promise, I am just a little slow at getting round to doing things these days. Without you all we would be having a much harder time getting through this, and the amount of love that we feel around us is extraordinary!). <3>

Ramblings: Bring Me the Summer Rain


It has been pouring down with rain all day, one of those summer days when it rains and rains and the sounds of thunder can be heard from time to time, somewhere off in the distance, far up in the sky. Clouds ramming into each other and creating noise and fresh rain that land on the ground and produces an aura of hazy fog and intense humidity. It’s not cold outside at all, just refreshing. It’s one of those nights when you just want to stand outside and feel the rain on your face, jump in puddles and not care about walking home soaking wet, because in the end it’s only water and having wet clothes is not the end of the world.

It reminds me of those summer days years ago, back in France, when the sky would literally open up after a few very hot days in August, and the rain would break up the humidity and let you breathe again. It reminds me of the days when I would take off my boots on a whim and jump into a fountain in the city centre, laughing hard and pulling others in with me, and then walking home barefoot, shoes in hand, soaking wet, still laughing. There was one fountain by the train station that would shoot up at different intervals and different heights, and it was so much fun to jump through it, not caring about having to spend the rest of the night in wet clothes and with no shoes on.

I still feel as carefree as I did back then. It’s the kind of life I chose to have. I don’t feel any regrets about those choices, I don’t wonder what would have happened if I had chosen another path very often (although sometimes I do daydream and imagine myself in other locations and living another life). I feel happily surrounded and content most of the time, letting the fluctuating weather calm or amplify my moods, emotions and feelings and breathing in the fresh air conceived by the drops of summer rain. And when the rain stops I will smoke a cigarette, barefoot on the wet ground, watching the humidity rise from the ground as the heat dries the puddles up until the next downpour.

As much as I love the sun and the heat of summer, being by the beach and swimming in the ocean, feeling relaxed and full of energy, the summer rain always brings a rush of adrenaline, and a rush of power, a feeling that you can overcome everything you need to. It breaks up bad moods and lets you feel reckless and careless, a little loss of control, the ability to let go for a while. However old you are there is absolutely nothing wrong with jumping with both feet in the middle of a huge puddle with a big splash. I don’t think I will ever stop doing that, and if that is childish then so be it, I shall remain a childish adult.

I'm singing in the rain, Just singing in the rain, What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again, I'm laughing at clouds, So dark up above, The sun's in my heart, And I'm ready for love, Let the stormy clouds chase, Everyone from the place, Come on with the rain, I've a smile on my face, I walk down the lane, With a happy refrain, Just singin', Singin' in the rain - Gene Kelly

To not real endings and not real new beginnings



This is going to be a bittersweet week, with endings and new beginnings. Although the more I think about it, it isn’t a real ending or really moving on from something, or maybe it is, I just can’t really put my finger on the right word yet, and I don’t know if I actually realize that I am ending something and starting something else. After 2 years of working at 200 Orchard (and believe me, it feels like it has been a lot longer than that), I will be doing my last shifts there tonight and tomorrow night. After being offered a full-time mainly managing position at Taqueria I had to decide whether I wanted to take it and leave 200 or just remain on the same schedule as I have been for a while now, working in both places, side by side. Both jobs have been the best I have ever had, not just because of the actual work, but also because of the people I work with, the bosses I have, people who have become friends, and the fact that  I have always been given my own independence and trusted with the responsibility of making sure I keep a work place open on the nights that I am working there.

Over the past few years I have met many people, some who have become very close friends (you know who you are), people I would never have met if I hadn’t been working at 200 Orchard. There have been nights when I wanted to run home and hide under the covers, but continued to serve drinks to annoying people with a smile on my face. There has been many a night when I had the best times ever, be it at work, or just hanging out in the bar with friends. There have been times that I’ll never forget, and other times that I would rather forget (flooding the basement being one of them). There are places that you work that are just work places, and then there are places that you work that become part of your life, part of your family and that you will never forget.

In any case, it’s not like I will be going far away, just next door, and it’s not like I won’t be at the bar again, just as a customer and not an employee anymore. I just want to thank Ramie, James and Damo for giving me the opportunity to work in such a wonderful place, and for also putting up with me over the past couple of years (and Luis too of course). There are many parts of the job that I will miss a lot… Come on down tonight or tomorrow (and both) – I am sure there is going to be a lot of fun to be had. And a lot of good music will be played, as always.

Ramblings: The end of 2012 (and the beginning of 2013)



Last night I was lying in bed with the lights out, listening to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds No More Shall We Part, ready to drift off to sleep when I was suddenly transported back to 2001. Same music, same position, probably even facing the same direction, but thousands of miles apart, in a different country and a different time. It was such a weird feeling, being in two places, two times, all at once, showing me that some things just never really change…

2012 has been an interesting, strange, ultimately good, sometimes bad year, with moments of pure sadness and happiness, moments that I would love to relive and moments I would rather bury deep in the ground and forget forever. Some missteps, many bounds forward, quite a few stumbles and some big tumbles. I feel like I was very diligent in my writing during the first six months of the year, but let it drop to the background due to procrastination, a loss of inspiration and confidence during the last quarter. Although I do find that what I wrote over the summer and the autumn is better than anything I wrote last year. Some of it I am ready to show to others and already have done, other pieces will remain unread by anyone other than myself for a while. I have several different projects in the pipeline for 2013, but they will remain in my head until I feel ready enough to fully complete them. I feel that I have failed in certain ways this year and don’t want these new projects to follow the same trajectory. 

As with my writing, I started 2012 off with many photography projects, and since August haven’t really picked up my camera, let alone taken it out on a tour anywhere. I feel I made great steps forward when I finally managed to fully use the manual settings on my DSLR properly and start experimenting with different shots, but then lost all inspiration again. I took some film, remembered how much I absolutely adored black and white prints, and then lost interest again. I already have different plans for the New Year, and a new lens that will be arriving shortly that will hopefully help mimic my film prints on my DSLR. I am also intent on buying the Fuji camera that I have wanted for over a year now, once I finally save up for it properly. That won’t come until after my holiday in Jamaica though!

This time last year I was completely broke, trying (and failing) to make ends meet and trying to figure out what I actually really wanted to do with myself. Everything sorted itself out brilliantly after several stints working in different places, as I now work at my old job as well as in a restaurant right next door, and feel happy to be at both places. At least now I am financially stable again, although I still need to find a balance between work that pays the rent and everything else I want to do. I need to go back to writing at least 5,000 words a week, instead of less than 1,000. Finish more books again instead of tiring of them after 100 pages. Spending more time at home and being productive rather than on Orchard St getting myself into trouble. Finding my focus again this week after letting it go astray for months has been a complete blessing. Now it’s time to rein it in and wrap it around myself again, never to let it off its leash again.

Friendships come and go over time, but this year has seen the definite end of some and the beginning of others. The sadness from seeing some friends disappear is more than cancelled out by the blossoming of other amazing friendships. In my opinion friendship is never a one way road, it takes time, work, give and take on both sides, and while some people will surprise you with their consistency and love, others disappoint you with their willingness to give up in front of a hurdle that seems a little bit too high to step over. There are times that you need to take a leap to be rewarded, so if you never take it, how on earth are you ever going to really feel happy? Friendships that end are never a one-sided problem, they come from both sides, there aren’t any real right or wrongs, just not enough effort put in and probably not enough love to see it through to the other side. And, in a way, that’s OK. Time goes by, and others are always there, not to replace anyone, because one friend can never replace another, but just to take part of the love that you can no longer give to those who are just not around anymore. I feel like this year I have met some absolutely wonderful people who I can’t imagine my life without anymore. People who make you laugh and who care about you, who motivate you and who have the guts to tell you (kindly) when you are making a mess of things, and vice versa. I cherish these new friendships as much as I cherish the old friendships that are still going strong.

I’m not very good at summing up an entire year in a few words, especially not the last one, and some things are just too personal to post on here. Instead I will just post a few links to blog posts that I feel highlighted certain aspects of it, ups and downs, and leave it at that.

Words:

Photography:

And as I can never write a post without some kind of music reference, I will just post a link to a playlist I made for this year. All of the songs except for one were released during the year and all come from albums that helped me get through this year in one piece.

2012 in Music (direct link to Spotify)


Happy New Year! May 2013 be rich in happiness and productivity!

Ramblings: (R)Evolution

I’ve been obsessed with the show Revolution this month. The end of the world/major changes in life/dystopian and utopian views on life themes are often recurring in my writing and I like to imagine what life would be like without all of the comforts that we are used to, and without all of the elements that we take for granted every day (hot water, electricity, public transport and so on). The whole point of this show is to portray life 15 years after a never-ending black out that is completely widespread around the world. Without electricity everything falls apart and has to be rebuilt again. Or does it actually get rebuilt?


Can you imagine not being able to travel anywhere unless you it can be done on foot or by horseback? Or not being able to contact anyone via any form of mail or phone anymore? Basically imagine going right back to the Middle Ages, but even worse as there are not even ships to travel over the seas with, because they have all been destroyed by militias, or used for firewood. The loss of hundreds of years of evolution, to fall right back into a time that we have only read about in history books. Of course, the show itself is a little far-fetched, and it is made by the same guy who was in charge of bringing us Lost, but at the same time it gets me thinking. What if this really happened?

How many times has the end of the world been predicted, down to a specific date, just to go by and not happen? We have another one coming up very soon, in just a couple of weeks, and I doubt that anything will happen. At the same time I feel like many people I know, including myself, have been going through some strange transition phases at the moment, phases that is full of gloom and problems and sadness, that seem to trap you and pull you down like quicksand on a stormy beach right before a hurricane hits. The positive in me says that everything will get better and that we just need to push through the cold and make it back to the warmth again. Then the negative says that it’s never going to get any better so we had better just lie in bed and never get out from under the covers again. The positive is finally winning on the negative though, I find it impossible to stay down for too long, as there is some kind of invisible force from within that shoves me back out into the world and puts a smile on my face. Anyway, how can you help others who have it worse than you when you can’t see past your own troubles?

I’ve always been interested (maybe obsessed is a better word…) in revolution and uprising. Rebellion against what you feel is forced upon you and the idea of making a change for the better. Not that the better always happens, as so many human beings are too selfish and hell bent on gaining power over others in reality, but the idea that it exists makes me happy. I suppose that’s how I have always tried to live my life – by what I think is right. Although I suppose what I think is right may not be what you think is right, and if you were a fundamentally bad person then I would have to get rid of you. Or something along those lines. In any case, I digress. Back to the subject at hand, that of the world as we know it changing in such a way that we have to change our lives completely in order to live in it. What if all of a sudden the lights do go out without any warning, never to come back on again? What would your first reaction be? Disbelief? Straight into survival mode? Would you help others or just focus on your own well-being and safety? It’s impossible to really know until you are actually right there in the situation, but it’s way to interesting a thought to not speculate on how we would all survive. However, I can’t really imagine not being able to contact my family and friends who are far away ever again. That thought is too hard to fathom and too scary to even contemplate. But I do like to think about the rest of it… Where would I go, how would I find my friends, and what would I take with me if I left the city? Do you just leave everything behind and start over somewhere new, a new person in a new world? How would I live without being able to listen to music everyday anymore, or know what was going on elsewhere in the world, or even the next city down? There are so many stories to be written about these types of situations, stories that I should start writing down instead of keeping in my head. Maybe on paper instead of online though, come to think of it… At the very moment that I am writing this our internet decided to go down and won’t come back up again, which I find a little spooky, even if I know it probably has no connection whatsoever. Another thought comes to mind… Do we often imagine these end of the world scenarios just because we want something different but can’t find a way to make a change? Is it really impossible to make changes on a smaller level, instead of waiting for the world to explode (or implode for that matter), to rebuild what we have wanted to change forever? We always talk about remembering events of the past so that they never happen again, how about predicting them so that they never actually happen? Interesting concept, one for another post as it is time to make vegetable stew and mashed potatoes while I still can in the confines of my kitchen within the haven I call home. 

The main question that remains is… If all this really does happen where shall we all meet so that we don’t lose each other? Orchard St? 


Ramblings: Inspired by a quotation...

I woke up and read this Roger Nimier quote on one of my friend's Facebook pages. It inspired me to write the following in the space of about ten minutes. It could be now, it could be 5 years ago, who knows... But it's all true and I think many can relate to it.



Descente aux enfers… Or is it ?

"Il est fréquent d'aimer les abîmes, il est juste de s'y précipiter, mais il est étrange d'accepter d'y descendre lentement, pas à pas, et d'envelopper cette déchéance d'une douceur qui trompe tout le monde et soi-même."
Roger Nimier

Rough translation (done in 10 seconds):
“It is common for one to love the depths of despair, it is normal to throw oneself into them, but it is strange when one accepts to descend into them slowly, step by step, and to cover this decline so gently that one deceives everyone else and oneself.”

It appears to be a sort of “descente aux enfers”, slowly, without even knowing where the idea came from, where the feeling started and what triggered such a pull downwards towards some kind of hell, but step by step it’s taking you there. It could be a way of controlling oneself, seeing just how far you can go until you hit a rock, maybe not rock bottom, but somewhere near there. Feeling like you are losing your mind, step by step, opens up certain visions to what you could or should be, and how you could and would make it. But, at that moment in time you don’t have the real incentive or power to actually stop it and climb back up again. When you are finally at the bottom, there are two real choices: stay there and probably just walk into an early grave, or look up and see what you are missing. 

It could also be a hidden cry for help, you want someone to notice where you are heading, but you can’t actually open your mouth to say it out loud because you can’t find the words to express what you are feeling. Or you feel too guilty to bother anyone with your own problems, which seem so much less serious than other people’s problems. You have a job, enough money to live on, wonderful friends and a place to live. So who will really understand the demons that plague your mind every day, or that feeling of walking through a thick cloud every time you are finally able to make it out of bed? Especially when you are one of the most positive people you know ten months out of twelve? Why would you plague someone else with your minor issues when they have much more important things to deal with in life? 

Or, then again, you could just not care anymore. Let everyone see how insane you really are.  Letting loose, losing control now and again brings some kind of fulfillment. When you are tired of looking after yourself and being responsible every single day, it often helps to go on a crazy self-indulgent and self-harming rampage. And then you wake up feeling like you lost a couple of days in your life and will never ever be able to live them again. You feel guilty and ill, but also kind of exhilarated and high – you dodged the bullet yet again and are still here to tell the tale. Back to reality and responsibility, back to life as you know it and don’t always want to live it.

All in all, it is a perfect combination of all of the above, and all in all, it is worth it to make it back up to the top, back to the other side. Because despite what we all may think at times in our lives, the sun always rises every morning and the rain does stop to bear blue skies and light, wispy clouds. Nights can be long, but days can be even longer if you decide to live through them instead of hiding until the sun goes down. I am too strong to let life get the better of me, and have too much to accomplish to hide away in the shadows.

Ramblings: One Friday evening in August


Just a set of ramblings on a Friday evening at home…

I was walking to the shop earlier, listening to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman, and started thinking about how I always dream about getting into a car one day and just driving, no real destination in mind, just driving somewhere different. I don’t mean by that that I would just drive off and never come back, but that I appreciate the idea that I could just go off and explore somewhere new at a moment’s notice. Well, I could if I could drive. Not that the minor issue of not being able to drive has ever stopped me – trains and planes and buses are just as easy to get away on. In any case, all that got me thinking about freedom, and the freedom of being able to do what we want in life. I have that freedom, and I couldn’t imagine anything else nowadays. I always say this is my home, but a day could come when I just decide that I need something different. Maybe a beach house in Central America or Hawaii. A place where the sun shines more often than it rains and where I can walk around barefoot most of the day. Maybe another trip to India, or one to a country in Africa. I don’t know, thoughts like this always help me keep my inner peace in check. Even just the idea of still being able to go off on an adventure of some sort keeps me happy. I should start planning something for when it gets cold here, an adventure to a place where I have never been before and where it will be warm and full of hibiscus flowers. I’m a little obsessed with the beauty of the hibiscus. I don’t even mind going somewhere alone – the idea of not having to speak to people too much for a week or so is quite enticing.

It’s been a year today that I did my disappearing act and walked away from a life I had turned into a prison. What an interesting year, so much has happened and so much has been thought about. I know I will never regret what I did, even on those days when I have done a double at work and when my legs hurt and my brain just wants to sleep. Even when I only have one day off a week, and on that day just feel like staying at home and listening to my own thoughts as opposed to listening to others talk about theirs for hours on end. I love my life, there is no question about it. This is what life is supposed to be about, the freedom to do whatever we want. We are all responsible in some way for how our life turns out, so we may as well make it as fun as possible. On this day last year we were all waiting for a hurricane to hit the city… In a way it feels like so much longer than just a year to be honest. Many many moons have gone by since then. 

I’ve been watching an old English TV show on Netflix from the late 80’s called Wish Me Luck. Every time that I think that I have exhausted the WW2 fiction I always find something else that catches my eye and hooks me in. This series is in three seasons and is mainly about a group of British agents that are sent into France to join the Résistance. It’s pretty well done, although I will always find it weird when characters are speaking in English when you know you are supposed to imagine them speaking in French. Anyway, I started watching the final season when it struck me that it was filmed in the exact location that I grew up in in France. The views were the exact ones that I would see when I opened the shutters of my apartment every morning and the villages were the same ones I used to go through all the time, or very similar to those in any case. It was filmed in the middle of the Vercors, and the story line is basically taken from real life events that happened when the maquis in 1944, when they rose against the Germans and were squashed, as it was deemed more important to send aid to Normandy during the landings rather than to a bunch of French résistants. It’s a story I grew up hearing about and always one that I have been a little obsessed with, so it’s pretty cool to actually see it depicted on TV (and filmed on location). It makes me miss France a lot though… Maybe I need a little French escape soon too. Mountains o’ mountains of things

For the past month I have been wondering whether to give up on this novel for a while, and write more short stories. I’m thinking about a collection of stories on the LES over the past 7 years, more personal ones than fiction of course, just because I’m really inspired by the idea right now. I’ve been writing more poems again, and am quite happy with the compilation I put together a few weeks ago. But I’ve been really procrastinating about the novel and haven’t finished a chapter in over two months. Today I had the bright idea of maybe just using each chapter I have already written as a set of short stories as this would eliminate the worry of making sure the plot flows through each chapter correctly. But then today I read some of the chapters I had written earlier this year and they are better than I thought they were, and it gave me hope that maybe it still is a good idea and I just need to push on with it and finish it this year. I’ll see. I don’t think I can completely give up on it just yet. But in the mean time I will start on the other plans I have in mind and see what they turn in to.






Ramblings: Every day is like Sunday


I used to hate Sundays. Friday nights were amazing because I had (sometimes) two full work-free days and three nights ahead of me, where I could let go and do all of the hundreds of things I never had time to do during the week days. But as soon as I would wake up on Sunday mornings I would start worrying about Monday morning. As each hour passed by I would think about how I had one less hour of freedom to enjoy. In the winter I would try to think of activities to do to take my mind off the impending doom that was going to bed, in the summer I would escape to the beach and secretly hope that the world would end before Sunday night approached. But it always inevitably happened… The night would close in and I would go to bed early, knowing full well that I would be plagued with stressful nightmares about missed deadlines and insanely long conference calls that never lead to anything concrete. Project plans would fly through the air and damage control emails would scroll through my mind, amidst dreams of machete-wielding men in suits chasing me through forests and deserts. Escape would only come when I awoke, and pulled myself out of bed to face the Monday morning commute and emails that would have come in during the weekend and the early morning hours.

Nowadays I love Sundays. I work most Sundays during the day at the bookstore and sometimes Sunday nights at the bar. Sunday evenings are for relaxing with friends, hanging out on the Lower East Side, staying out late and not worrying about having to get up early on Monday morning. Summer Sundays are for sitting outside and smoking cigarettes while chatting with friends, walking over the bridge during a storm, drinking ice cold drinks inside bars and eating ice cream at 4 in the morning. Winter Sundays are for going to late movie showings and eating too much popcorn and walking back home in the cold wind for a long, uninterrupted sleep, no nightmares or stress-related dreams on the horizon. The only work-related dreams I have nowadays are the occasional my-bed-is-in-the-bar and I need to jump out half naked to serve people pints of beer. These people have been members of Portishead and the cast of Buffy, as well as the usual regulars I serve on a daily basis. Sunday night nightmares have turned into Sunday night peaceful dreams.

I used to listen to Morrissey’s Everyday is Like Sunday on repeat on Monday mornings, and it always struck a chord: Sundays always felt so grey and dismal because Monday was coming up right behind her, always there in the shadows. Now I just listen to it and it makes me feel happy, walking barefoot in the sand on the beach, listening to the waves and feeling free. Nowadays every day is like Sunday, work or not, every day is different and the same all at once. Some things are never constant, but one thing is, I usually wake up with a smile. 

Ramblings: The question of a man, a dog and a choice



The question of a man, a dog and a cliff

“You are sitting on top of a cliff between a human being and a dog. You can only save one – do you choose the human being or the dog?”

I can’t answer that question without thinking about it. As much as I would like to live my life through reason and pure rational thinking, I never can. I live my life as an emotional being, meaning that everything I do, think and wish for is tainted by my emotions. This leads to many a contradiction and many a paradoxical way of thinking that sometimes surprises even myself, but I have come to terms with the fact that I may not always make sense to others. As long as I live my life the way I think is beneficial to myself and others, meaning that I will not do anything that will harm others, and will always treat others as I would expect to be treated myself, then I am OK with the fact that I may contradict myself. 

For this reason, if someone asks me the question at the top of this page, then my answer will be another question: “who is the human being and who is the dog?”. If both were random beings, unknown to me, I would probably choose the human, even if it would break my heart to technically let the dog die. If it were a random human being, but my own dog I would most probably choose the dog. If it were a random dog and someone close to me I would definitely choose the human. If it were George Bush and a random dog I would most definitely choose the dog. And so on. My brother is not as wishy washy as me in his response: for him, his choice would be the human every time, as they are capable of reason, and therefore necessary to keep the planet moving (he will probably explain his thoughts on this better than I can, actually I prefer that he does, because even if they differ from mine they are very interesting). I would rather spend the rest of my life feeding and taking care of the dog than having to justify to myself that I was the person who saved George Bush over a dog. I mean if the choice were between Ted Bundy and the dog no one would bat an eyelid if I chose the dog would they? It wouldn’t even be for a “I prefer dogs to humans” perspective – for my own personal survival Ted Bundy would need to die. Because if him and I were the only two people left on this planet who else is he going to murder once his killing impulse sets in?

Thankfully I doubt that I will ever have to make the choice between Ted Bundy and a dog. Or George Bush and a dog for that matter. Or my sister and a dog. Or even an unknown human and a dog. Because, in the end, I would probably end up jumping over the cliff and saving myself having to make the choice. Does that sound stupid? Probably. But some choices are just too hard to make. But wait… I need to think back on that statement now… I live in a constant survival mode, where I prepare for the worst and hope for the best, so if I really were in a situation where I had to choose between a man and a dog, would I really prefer to die myself instead of making a choice I would have to live with for the rest of my life? Now I am questioning myself again. I would probably search for a way for us all to survive first, and then decide if my life was more important than the other beings lives. If the choice were between my sister and my brother I would prefer them to live rather than me. If it were between Mitt Romney and Barack Obama, I may just go into survival mode and kick Romney off the cliff. I don’t know, I make choices through emotion not reason, so who knows what way the wind would blow if I were actually in the situation.

But what if I just walked away and let the man and the dog fight it out for themselves? Is that an option? That’s the way my mind has always worked – there is never a simple solution to a question. Logically I should be making a choice based on a reason of importance, right? But what is important to me may not be important to others. And I have just been sitting here for an hour wondering about a hundred different types of situations and determining whether or not I would let an animal or a human die, or let myself die to save others. There is no one situation where I could automatically say “him” or “her” without having to think about it properly. I can’t take a blank statement and attach it to a situation and always follow it through without letting my own personal thoughts and emotions take hold of me. And, to be honest, I don’t think I actually ever want to. In the end, I am me, and I accept that nowadays. Contradiction or not, that’s the way I am.

I just hope I never have to choose between a man and a dog.

Ramblings: Siblings

I've been terribly lazy about writing all week, blaming the fact that I am tired on my complete lack of concentration. It's not like I am lacking in inspiration - I actually have a lot of it at the moment - I just can't seem to sit down and just write for a few hours. I need to refocus my attention on what I need to accomplish over the next three months. This novel is never going to get written otherwise, and if I want to move on to something else I need to at least finish the first draft.

For some stupid reason I always seem to get inspired about certain topics when I'm in the shower. Not exactly the best place to immediately write things down so that you don't forget them, so I find myself repeating them over and over again until I have finished washing my hair and can jump out and write notes on some random paper/magazine/bog roll that is hanging around. Anyway, the other day I was thinking about brothers and sisters and family and everything those words entail in my life, and in the lives of those that I love, and was inspired to write something. Sometimes it's just so much easier to express yourself with written words rather than spoken words (in my opinion anyway - I tend to be quite crap at expressing myself at the best of times).

Remember that time when you and your little sister shared a room when you were kids and were always dancing and singing to Elvis Presley and fighting about who was going to marry him (never mind that he was already dead and had been for quite a few years)? That time when you thought your sister was a doll so you proceeded to go and try to pull her head off while she was sleeping, just like you did with all your other dolls ( I WAS 2 at the time, so cannot be blamed for thinking my sister was just a big doll)? Or that time when you got home from school to find your little brother had finally been born and was sleeping peacefully in his cot? Not that he remained peaceful for long - he the fantastic ability of screaming the house down whenever he needed to. What about that time when you and your sister walked into an empty bar, and your sister went up to the DJ and asked him to play Bauhaus because it was your "happy music"? Yes, he did play Bauhaus and Siouxsie for that matter, and we all ended up going to Yaffa Cafe for breakfast and I put Tabasco on my sister's eggs for a laugh while she was snogging one of the guys somewhere else in the restaurant. What about all those times you and your brother would have drunken conversations at 4am your time and 1am his time? Actually, I think that's more like one-sided drunken conversations, because I doubt he had been drinking most of the time.What about the time you went on a road trip from Sacramento to Santa Cruz with your sister, and just as you were driving into the town Dead Skin Mask started playing and you both ended up doing crazy air drum and air guitar moves while shouting along to the song to the amusement of the people walking down the street? Or that time when you went on a roadtrip to Bodega Bay and made your brother run/roll down the sand hill multiple times so you could get a good photo?

There are so many memories, good, bad, funny, interesting and just plain weird. I've lived pretty far away from my siblings for a long time now, but we text/talk/write/comment on each others posts every day. My brother is the only person up until now who has read all of the 123 pages I have currently written of my novel and took the time to write his comments down and send them to me. We've all been through so much shit together, even not speaking to each other for a while, but it always ends in hugs and tears and more hugs and tears. I tell my sister everything and know when she's not doing well, even if she hasn't told me how she is feeling. Whenever I feel the slightest bit lonely (and it is possible to feel that way in this city, even if there are always things to do and people to see), I know that I'll always be surrounded by my sister and my brother, however far away they are. I'll be in California for 2 weeks in June, and I know that we will have a million laughs, probably fight a few times, complain to each other about each other and create more memories that I will probably end up writing about over the next few years. Then I will be back here in NYC, and they will be over there in Sacramento and we will continue to count on each other forever, even when we fuck up and hurt each other.

Ahhh... I was just thinking back to that rave we went to back in the 90's, when we drove for hours and finally found it around 5am, then got kicked out by the police at Noon, only to drive all the way back to Grenoble in the boiling heat... And when I decided that one NYE that it would be a wonderful idea to drink a bottle of Baileys followed by a bottle of white wine followed by a bottle of cider and my sister tried to cover for me when my mum called from the party she was at because I was puking my guts up...Every time I think of a story ten others follow suite.

I don't even know why I am even writing this... I guess I miss my siblings more than usual at the moment and just know what a blessing it is that they exist in my life. I get that protective older sister feeling (even though I feel like they spend most of their time trying to protect me from getting hurt by everything) and want to be there to make sure they are always happy. Sometimes I fantasise about living nearer them in California, but I know that NYC is my home now and I would miss this place too much. I wouldn't miss the winters or my family so much, but I know I would miss my home too much.


Maybe I will just go and call both of them right now.