Reunited and I feel good!

I helped a colleague today and it didn't involve toxicology, chemistry or science in anyway. Sitting in a kind of boring meeting that was lagging on longer than it should I noticed the very pretty earrings of a new engineer in another division. I don't know her name. She sits in on the meetings absorbing the goings on. Until she is comfortable with the proceedings she is always accompanied by a more senior engineer.
As my mind wandered during the meeting I noticed her earrings and her rings (engagement and wedding band) as I usually do. Earrings were pretty drop type with two ovals with etched designs. Couldn't make out the designs.

After the meeting let out I wandered down the hall to the staircases and kicked something on the ground. Picking it up it was an earring, drop type, two ovals with etched designs on them. I knew right away it belonged to this engineer. I had no idea what her name was...I ran into B who I told about the earring and she said let's see if D is here, she should know since she is branch chief who the new engineer is and where she sits. Sure enough D said, sure, let's go to her cubicle to bring it back to her. The engineer wasn't there but we left her a note to let her know I had found her earring. Then D and I began a conversation about lost earrings and singletons who had found new homes at the Salvation Army. I mentioned the ones I was wearing currently which are pair no. 2 of ones that A got me long ago and they are my hands down favorite everyday earrings. I lost the one only a few months after he got me the first pair. I lost them at the gym at UMCP when I swore I put them in my pants pocket and then put them in the locker but when I returned they were no where to be found. I even went back multiple times. That made me so sad. Jewelry lost is one of the saddest things.

So after an hour or so I checked my e-mail and got a message from the engineer who's earring I returned:

Hi Sara,

Thanks for finding my earring and getting it returned to me.

Glad I could reunite them...

her name is Eva.

Dear Amber...

...I miss you..I hope everything is wonderful where you are....Dr. Stumbaugh...

Warrior Dash 2011

My New Year's Resolution for 2011 (never too soon to have one, right?) is to go back to Krav Maga. As my GIS courses are winding down (I only have to take 1 or 2 more) I will have more time for self improvement of another sort next year. We are already signed up for agility class me and Casey for January - March one day a week so I need something else to keep me going. I will be busy but only on week nights. Thank goodness. I want to go to Krav Maga on any night when agility and rally aren't. So the other day I received a notice from my Krav Maga class about new schedules for January, Polar Bear Plunge nonsense (you'll never catch me doing that!) and another thing that caught my eye: Warrior Dash 2011. Now, I remember D from my the rally class I take Casey to telling us about this thing her husband did where he went through this crazy race where you get a warrior helmet at the end, a free shirt, medal and 1 free beer. I clicked the link to the Warrior Dash from my Krav Maga notice and read all the details .This thing looks so awesome. It's 3.11 miles of race in the wilderness (2011 in Mechanicsville, MD) and 8 obstacles of warrior level difficulty! Mud crawling, hay bale climbing, water trudging, rope climbing, fire jumping...real boot camp type stuff. When you complete the race in full you get  1 free beer (which I have already decided to give to A, 1 t-shirt, a medal and the best of all, a fuzzy viking helmet (horns and all)! How cool is that? I'm totally stoked to compete. I'm starting now to train...I'll have to add jumping jacks, squats and other things of that nature in my preparatory methods but I am so ready to do this.

I think the only thing I might have trouble with is the fire jumping...the flames look high...my legs are short...but I can do this...warrior style...aaarrrgggghhhhh!!

Prosperous Fish Swatch

Right before So a few days after I got back from SETAC this year I was loading some laundry into the dryer and my awesome fish watch that my friend got me busted! I caught the hinge of the watch on the door of the dryer and it fell apart. This made me incredibly sad! Not only was I out a watch but this was my swatch watch diver watch with fish on the band...see through and all in typical swatch watch fashion. I rummaged through my other watches but couldn't find one to wear that was working...my other cool glow in the dark vampire swatch watch needs a new battery, my Citizen dive watch my brother got me long ago was in need of a battery but when I took it to the Citizen counter at the mall they said they don't do that and I could take it to a kiosk but the last time I did that the a hole behind the counter mangled my K. Haring watch that also glowed in the dark and I still miss it.

So I thought where else to get a cool retro Swatch watch than Ebay...so off I went to peruse Ebay and I found this:

http://compare.ebay.com/like/150529958905?ltyp=AllFixedPriceItemTypes&var=sbar&rvr_id=182127029546&crlp=1_263602_304662&UA=WXI7&GUID=ba52cc8c12a0a0b3f8f2ce62ff8e2e84&itemid=150529958905&ff4=263602_304662

Perfect! I love it. Should I get it? Of course, there's a fish on it! So I went to buy it (no need to bid) and I went to use Pay Pal and it was still using my credit card that I previously had listed. I needed to change that. I tried to do so but Pay Pal has this thing where they want to make sure it is you so they "charge" you $1.95 and put a  little code next to that charge on your credit card statement to let you know. They say you can remove the charge (prove it's you) by logging in and typing the code in. That requires looking at your credit card statement. This was the middle of the month. I won't get a credit card statement for another few weeks. If you don't put the code in the charge is permanent!

Pay Pal is an asshole.

Anyway I frantically tried to get my credit card company statement online but Ihavent done that in a year so I didn't remember my password or login or anything...so that required me to call the credit card company, have them check my login, change my password, and then I could view my statement.

Then I had to change my credit card in Pay Pal to remove that nasty $1.95. But I had trouble doing this because the stupid browser kept telling me I had cookies not letting the page refresh...what? So I called Pay Pal. I called (after checking the area code) Nebraska...I was on the phone for 20 minutes with Maria who helped me fix everything. She was sort of annoying and had the worst customer service tone but I got the end result I wanted: removal of the  $1.95 charge.

So I bought my fish watch...it arrived yesterday...perfect! Brand new and I feel whole again with a fish watch on my wrist. But this watch has a crazy symbol on the front I don't know what it is. It looks cool. I tried to google it but didn't get the information I needed. Rather than walk around with a watch with a character on it I could not explain if someone asked me I decided to ask a work colleague. I looked for D or Y, they are both Chinese. I wasn't sure it was a Chinese character but I took the risk. I couldn't find either of them this morning (darn you toxicologists for being busy) but finally tracked down Y this afternoon. I asked him if he could translate the character for me. He said it means "fish"! Some characters in Japanese are Chinese in origin but of course he could tell this one meant "fish". How cool is that? I love my new watch!!!!

Yay!!!

Breyer Horses

Most of my childhood I can remember not playing with dolls but instead playing with my Breyer horses. I would save up my allowance each chance I would get and buy the newest one or the one I liked the looks of. I would play in my room for hours, making courses for them to jump, grooming, and saddling them up. I would make blankets for them and I even made a 4 stall stable and tackroom out of cardboard taped together that I placed in the corner of my room. "Corner Stables" I called it and I had a horse blanket custom made by someone with the name on the side. I made my own grooming tools too, a hoof pick I made by bending a paper clip I had cut short, a curry brush from some velcro glued to a piece of fabric. Buckets and sponges made from a piece of a dish sponge cut really small and a plastic container from something or another my mom had lying around.

I loved my Breyer horses. Still do actually. When living in Brooklyn did not enable me to be nearby a place where I could ride, my Breyer horses let me do so in my imagination instead. I imagined I was a great cross-country rider or a great equitation enthusiast. I could be a show-jumper or a dressage competitor or even a racing horse jockey.

My horses were cared for well, lots of imaginary hay and healthy oats and feed to make them strong and fast. I could take them for a walk in the field (the carpeting in my room) just on halter and they would follow me where I went and nuzzle me with love. I could always hug them and be there for them for whatever they needed.

A few weeks ago Amber's dad posted a message that stated if someone was interested in her Breyer horse collection that the family kept in storage he was interested to know. I sent him a message. I remember when Amber showed me her collection. She had more Breyer horses than I could ever have. We had a few of the same ones. Her father said she did the same thing: played with her horses instead of dolls, made a stable for them and everything. Amber and I were one in the same in that respect. I told him I would be honored if the family would let me have them. He said that his wife was not ready to part with them and understandably so.

Dear Amber,

I just wanted to let you know that I miss you lots. I was waiting for you to be done with vet school so we could reconnect and I would come visit you and Jill since I know you wouldn't want to come to the East Coast. A West Coast girl through and through, Iowa was as far East  as you would tread.

I had such high hopes that you would have your own practice or however you wanted to spend your days as a vet, to live your dream. I wanted to meet Floyd and Kelty in person. I wanted to reminisce with you about our days at Adobe and thank you again for being there for me and have it be even a little bit tolerable only because you were there.

I can not do these things now and it pains me, saddens me. I am sad because you did not get a chance to be where you wanted to ultimately be. I am sad because Jill is left alone without her true love. I am sad because of all of the fuzzy ones you will never get to treat, and show your love to. I am sad because your family got cheated beause you were not here long enough for them to love you as long as they wanted to. I am sad because I knew you could do anything you put your mind to and that was taken away from you.

I am sad because I will never get to see you again.

Feeling Blue

Sometimes when I am feeling reminiscent I try to find the smells, touches, tastes and senses of another time. I don't know how to describe this in detail but for example, when I feel a bit of nostalgia and melancholy about College Park, I remember the days I use to spend there in the suburban streets. I remember the familiar turns and short-cuts, the area near the airport, the times I spent walking the paths around Lake Artemesia, the times I felt sadness or happiness in those places and the reasons and people who made me feel those feelings come back to me.

I try not to dwell there but I like to remember those times I had; I had them, I have them in a memory spot in my mind. No one else has these memories except the people who were there with me if they remember these things the same way at all.

It makes me think back to when I was a student, that I could not wait to be on with my life, in the real world. I don't wish to be back where I was but it is so strange to me that the time has passed so much, so far because it does not feel as long ago as it is.

Other thoughts that make me feel a little sad are of when I was in California. How I wish I could have done that differently. How I wish I knew then what I know now.

Still other things that make me mopey are remembering Rockaway Beach and the times I spent there with friends. Even longer ago but those are the times in my life I felt satisfied. Can you imagine feeling satisfied in your life at all? Never been able to get to that point, try as I might.

The Portuguese/Brazilians have a word for all of this. In English we say we "miss" something. As if it were lost. But I like the Portuguese word better: saudades. A longing, desire, melancholy feeling of sadness or wistfulness for something or someone. It is not to describe something that is lost, rather something you are wanting for or waiting for that makes you happy but there is sadness at the same time. There is no way to translate that in English. The feelings of both are always there together even if there is no single way to describe it.

Instead, you just have to feel it and I feel as if it is felt too much sometimes, and it makes me blue.

Is it wrong to want to punch an old lady on the Metro?

I was on the Metro the other day just trying to get to my appointment at 5 pm. I made my connection from the Blue/Orange to Red at Metro Center. Slow people and tourists clogged the escalator so by the time I got to the platform, the train was pulling in. I made my way over to my spot on the platform to get on the train at the right car so it would put me in the right place on the platform when I exited. People were slow getting on and it was crowded...what was going on today?

Anyway, I made my way in but no one decided they would move to the center of the car. I was stuck by the door knowing that I would be trying to find a way to the side when the doors opened at Gallery Place. Sure enough, at Gallery Place, multiple people from either side of me were making their way to the door, leaving me no where to retreat to so I was stuck looking left and right to find a place to get out of the way. Just as I was doing this, a little piece of shit old lady says to me, "You're blocking the median" so I turned to her and said "I'm trying to get out of the way, jeez".

This is what I should have said:

"Lady, I'm not some dumbass tourist or clueless metro rider who doesn't know to leave room so people can get out at their stop. The metro was jammed, I had no where to go, and fuck if I'm going back out on the platform and have the doors close on me and leave me at Gallery Place so shut the fuck up and mind your own damn business, asshole! I'd get out of the way if I could, but I can't, so fuck off".

I hate clueless assholes who feel they have the right to say what they say in total error and I don't care that they're 150 years old. She wasn't sweet, just old.

My friend is gone and it hurts (Thanks to Mary for the title)

My friend Amber is gone. I am saddened beyond words and without comprehension. How could someone so young be taken so soon? Amber followed her dreams. She never gave up and knew what she wanted. She and I were from the same fabric: that determined, nothing can stand in my way, it may take me a little bit longer but I'm gonna do it fabric. And her dream was taken from her.

Why does this happen to those you love so much? Why does it happen to those who love and are loved so much? Amber only had love and caring to give to everyone she met. She inspired me and propped me up even when she was far away. She was my only solace when things around me seemed their crummiest when I worked at the vet hospital. She made things fun, she had wonderful ideas, and loved everything furry and fuzzy from big to small. She was fearless herself and loved a challenge.

She showed me her home, California, how she knew I would appreciate it most: we went hiking in the redwood forests, we went to play in the rocky intertidal tide pools and had the best time doing it. We saw a crab lay her eggs in a tiny pool, bought a flat of strawberries that were the best strawberries I had ever tasted and saw the most wonderful thing imagineable to me: a wild sea otter floating among the kelp off the coast and just a few feet away from the tidal pools. I will never forget that for as long as I live.

She loved Jill more than anything else. To find your soul mate is truly rare and they were blessed to have been able to spend even that short amount of time with one another. I can not even imagine what Jill is going through as I am having troubles dealing even as a dear friend and some distance away.

I only have comfort knowing that she was loved by so many so much. That she will be dearly missed is the palest way to say what a wonderful person she was and I am all the more of me for knowing her.

Sweet dreams, Amber. May your vet school dream come true where ever you are and may you take care of the ailing and healthy fuzzy ones for all eternity. Thank you for providing me with the most pleasant and powerful memories of my life. I will cherish them always.

Miss you...

This is what my silence is and this is what my silence isn't

Do not interpret my silence this way: non-interest, lack of knowledge, fright, boredom, misunderstanding.

I have none of these things when I am silent.

This is what my silence is: pause, reflection, absorption, pontification, consideration, formulation, digestion, and deliberation.

You, who will assume, assume in error. And you will then be judged by me, thoroughly.

I don't idly chat, and I won't speak without thinking.

Don't misinterpret me. I hate that. Never assume anything of me because of what I don't do.

Only understand me by what I am.

I am telling, not asking. Because I'm tired and done with the misperception.

there. said it. done.

Paris Blogs

As promised, I am writing to tell why I started to read blogs about Paris, a city I have never been and probably never want to go to.

Back in 2007 I used to read http://www.gringoes.com/ religiously. I love Brazilian culture and the language. They have a great segment everyweek called "Brazil Through Foreigners Eyes" where they interview a foreigner who chose to come to Brasil to live or work and find out what made them fall in love with the place so much they wanted to live there. I think I wanted to be one of those people but never got up the courage to do what they did. I can not leave the East Coast of the U.S. It's my home. I tried to do it once for a year and I missed everything there was to miss.

Anyway, one day on the website I started reading a blog written by someone who called himself Kermit the Vlog. Because he is French (get it?) and was writing a video blog. Anyway, he had links to blogs he followed that were fellow Parisians or should I say fellow ex-pats living in Paris who wrote about life being an ex-pat in Paris. One of these blogs was Petite Anglaise. I started to follow her trials and tribulations a little late in the game but found out how she started and wound up writing her blog, etc, etc. She no longer blogs but it made me seek out more Parisian ex-pat bloggers to get a feel and live vicariously through them I suppose.

But, this only recently started to fade for me. I used to read a whole pile of ex-pat Parisian blogs. Right now, I only read one. I think I would love Paris. It's a city after all, with tons going on.

But it got me started reading Brooklyn blogs and it turns out, I can relate to these a bit better than those Parisian ones. Not sure why it took me traveling south of the equator then across the pond to realize the obvious but I'm never one to make things easy, always gotta complicate shit and confuse the issues :-)

I love this quote

John Muir was a naturalist, and an environmentalist before it was trendy. He spent his days hanging out in the Sierra Nevadas. Muir Woods in California is one of my favorite places.  Found this quote on someone else's random blog today. So true, so true:

"I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in"

                           -John Muir

My response to this article in the New York Times

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/25/complaint-box-the-state-of-brooklyn/?scp=1&sq=fakelyn&st=cse

This article out-raged me. Is that correct grammar? I don't know but the main point that EVERYONE seems to skim over and glaze over is that you can't be "from" somwhere you weren't born or grew up. End of story, no contest, give it up and just stop. It doesn't matter if it is Brooklyn or anywhere else. If you claim you are from somewhere you've only lived a short period of time, you're lying! My response was something like this:

When I travel, if someone asks me where I am "from" I say I "live" just outside of Baltimore, because that is the truth. I am originally "from" Brooklyn but I do not live there. I would never, ever say I was "from" Maryland because I have only been here 11 years and anything before 1999 means nothing to me. My boyfriend and his friends reference things that went on in Maryland before I got here and I have no idea what they are talking about. Granted some of it has to do with the Colts leaving Baltimore or the Orioles and I wouldn't care either way but that is a different story.

Here's the truth of it: You are "from" somewhere if you lived there most of your life and were born there. If you were "born" somewhere else but moved to your current location when you were like 2-5 years old and you have no recollection of where you were "born" then you are "from" that place. I even have examples, people:

1-Keanu Reeves, according to IMDB was "born" in Beirut, Lebanon but "grew up" in Toronto! He's Canadian!
2-Nicole Kidman also according to IMDB was "born" in Hawaii but grew up in Australia! She's Australian!
3-Anna Paquin acording to IMDB was "born" in Canada but grew up in New Zealand. She's a Kiwi and a Canuck because she lived both places for a good portion of her life that she can remember and has an accent!
4-Pam Anderson was "born" and "grew up" in Canada, lived in the U.S. for most of her adult life and just recently got her citizenship here so by all rights she is Canadian but now is American as well!

It's about being accurate and precise, people. Don't be lazy about it because it's cooler to say you're from somewhere that you're not.

My other caveat I had was for folks who just arrived from overseas. If you came here when you were an adult, then proceed to live the rest of your life as an adult somewhere else, then you are "from" where ever you came from originally, have lived [insert new location] for most of your life (20+ years) so then "consider yourself  from" [insert new location]. But if you have lived here less than ten years, you are still "from" somewhere else.

These caveats need to be included. This is the main point. If someone asks where are you "from" v. "where do you "live" or where were you "born" these are very, very different things. They may all have the same answer but rest assured if you are living in Brooklyn in the trendy hipster re-gentrified areas they are not!

Example: I lived in San Francisco for 1 year (in my adult life) but I would never, ever say I was "from" San Francisco. I would never, ever say I was "from" Maryland because I have been here a relatively short amount of time in a person's lifetime.

So people, please don't put on airs to say you are "from" somewhere cool, when you know you are not because you are truly "lying".


You know who you are trendy hipster jerk-offs.

Brooklyn Through and Through

Back again in the BK and what a weekend it was. I drove around the streets of Brooklyn neighborhoods I missed and reminisce about on almost a weekly basis. It feels good to be home and in my element. When so often I am out of my element I feel exhilarated and happy. Clearly and most definitely happy. Brooklyn of my youth, you are there in spirit and essence. Some of you is gone but most of you welcomes me with open arms and I thank you.

I took my dad for a haircut out in Gravesend. We drove down Ocean Parkway to Ave T and then Ave U and then down to West Street, just shy of McDonald Avenue. Across the street was an Italian food shop, luckily open that early in the day so A and I went to check it out while my dad waited his turn. It had all of the things you could never, ever get here. Fresh mozzarella, fresh tomatoes caprice, fresh cheeses, biscoitti, coffee not from Starbucks' brand, fresh salamis and deli  meats, fresh pastas hand made and rolled. There was so much it was hard to choose. We settled on some plain and pumpkin filled gnocchi and a salami. We paid and left and expressed some remorse for things we should have gotten too like the spinach pies, or more cheeses like the fresh mozzarella. But, it would not have made the 4 hour + drive home the next day and it would seem a sin to ruin fresh mozzarella like that.

But I felt at home and revelled in my being there and I felt confident and sure of myself just ordering the food and paying for the items. Like it was my everyday thing to get fresh products like these at my neighborhood Italian deli / goods shop. I e-mailed a fellow blogger who grew up in Gravesend. She told me I was in her old stomping ground. A small world it is.

Later that day I had to get fish from the fish store my mom usually goes to. I drove down to Ave U and 27th. Just in time, too because all of the fresh fishes were put away for the day and the floors and display areas were being cleaned by a group of latino men. The man who took my order (the owner?) was kind and efficient and pleased to have my business. I ordered the farm-raised salmon. 2.38 lbs. For six of us it would be plenty. We were in and out in less than 10 minutes. I got a parking spot right in front. I am quite certain this would not be on any other day and if I lived there but it was nice to have things fall into place this way.

Later we celebrated my dad's birthday with cupcakes from Magnolia, now near my brother's work so he had ordered a bunch the day before. What a nice way to spend my weekend: with my family, in the place of my birth and my youth, so much more familiar to me than where I am daily. What a pleasant feeling and thought I have because of it: a warm feeling in my inner being that brings a smirky Brooklyn-smile to my face.

les bacteries chez les e'crevisses

I'm a translating fool! How many fish physiologists with expertise in endocrine disprupting chemicals do you know speak French and Portuguese?

A colleague was wading through papers yesterday and several months ago trying to find information regarding some bacterial strain. She is a microbiologist. Under both of these circumstances she was trying to find the main paper that was getting cited over and over in subsequent papers in hopes of elucidating some information regarding the beginnings of when the strain was isolated. Yesterday was a French paper, in the past it was a Brazilian paper. How good I felt when I could say, Oh, you need something translated in Portuguese, I can do that. You need something read and translated in French? I can do that too!

Yesterday's French paper happened to be a strain from some bacteria isolated from crayfish. Moribund crayfish. It described the infection in the hepatopancreas, and the digestive tract and some tubule. It described the strains and what they look like (gram negative, ciliated, size, etc.). A few months ago it was a strain used to ferment something to make a well-known drink famous in the Northeast of Brazil.

Yes, I can read technical biological papers in French and Portugese. I even learned a new word : souche; referring to the strain of the bacteria.

Damn that feels good. Still floating on my translating mega abilities. M'excuser pendant que je jubile.

A little dose of Brooklyn

I can not tell you how good I felt to be back in Brooklyn for just 4 days. I felt it the minute I got on 278, I got exhilarated as I turned off the Verrazano. I blasted "The Stoop" while traversing the Belt. I felt confident, secure and so sure of myself when driving down Avenue L and avoiding the crazed Orthodox Jews trying to get all they needed to get done by sun down even though when I arrived it was only 3:30 pm. I guess everyone was rushing home from work as well.

My long drive gave me the time to think about being in Brooklyn by myself, without A. Although I love him dearly and find his companionship all I could ask for, he is no fan of the big city and I find that a huge point of contention. How can you love me without loving what is me? Or at least, understand how it feels when you bad mouth the city and that doing so hurts me, personally. And as the song goes, "...this 'hood is my home..." and so defines me. Understand that and hold off on your insults to crime ridden neighborhoods that make you feel unsafe and trapped, and open your mind to the culture and atmosphere that is there for the offering. I don't stand there and bad mouth your home or your roots so know that it hurts when you do that to me.

I felt so good the entire weekend because I was in the skin I am most comfortable with. I was surrounded by my family, in a familiar place and saw familiar things I have known since being very little. I need to do this for myself I have decided. I need to go back to Brooklyn as often as my free time will allow. And most of that time leave A home. Although so many people asked about the dog, I don't think I will leave her home again, just A. He can stay with the cats and fish.

But this is key. This is the key to my balancing my life I think. I just need a little dose of Brooklyn every month or so...to keep me going and to keep me in touch with the me I know and love and felt like for so long I had lost.

So, when I feel the current me dwindling down to that self-loathing, INTJ, anxious, unsure of herself, low confidence having unrecognizable me, I will know to book my trip, tell A in advance he needs to stick around and take care of the cats and me and the dog are going to get our Brooklyn on.

Fuck Parkinson's Disease

I wanted to rant and rave. I wanted to yell and scream and punch Parkinson's in the face. I think it should just pack up and leave and never come back or show its ugly face around here ever again. No one wants you Parkinson's. You wreak havoc in our lives and make us all miserable. You turn the best of us into harrowed souls and diminish our strongest hearts and sharpest brains into dependent, vulnerable, shadows of their former selves.

You make us cringe and gasp and choke and fall and stress and raise our anxiety levels so high and think about what could have been instead.  You make us avert and deny and forget and fall into habits we can not break nor do we want to separate from for fear of losing any semblance of control we once had in our life before we realized the deterioration of ourselves.

We fight you everyday Parkinson's and you sometimes seem to have the upper hand but we continue to fight. Fuck you Parkinson's for thinking you can win. Fuck you Parkinson's for all of your nasty treatment of our inner beings who only long for ourselves to be normal and our loved ones to feel whole and of themself. You take the tallest and most brave of us all and test us all everday with your slow and steady pinching grasp. Fuck you Parkinson's for your cowardly approach.

Fuck you Parkinson's for taking over the lives of those who were independent and strong and creative and quick-witted and who I most wanted to be like. Fuck you for taking that away from him and fuck you for taking that away from me!

Brooklyn is the answer!

So I have been thinking alot recently that the reason I think I lost my Brooklynness is just that I am not in Brooklyn. Being the quiet type that I am, when I was in Brooklyn it brought out my true self. It forces you to in a way.  You have to have an attitude because you have to deal with crazies on a regular basis. What do I do here? I get up, get in my car, take the bus to work, sit at my desk, get back on the bus, hang out with A and the dog. What interaction do I have except with the retail people in the stores I shop at? When I first got here, I had an attitude. I remember people saying I did and I did and I flaunted it. Me! Can you imagine me flaunting anything? I slowly lost that, over the years I became drained of my life force that kept me flaunting and strutting like I owned the place.

In Brooklyn it's different. You interact with people more because you walk everywhere, you commute with a million other people, not just 53 other people like on my commuter bus. 

Plus, when I was in Brooklyn I was with my family. 4 other people who talk like me, think like me and interacted with me on a regular basis. When I am home I feel energized.  I feel like I have new life and vitality that has been sucked out of me by the void that is Maryland (hah!). I feel at home in my skin in Brooklyn. Brooklyn is my life force and since I haevn't been there since March, my life force has drained slowly out of me since then.

The thought of returning this weekend has given me more energy than I have had in the months since I was back.  I feel the possibilities are endless of how I can spend my time just being invigorated by my Brooklyn surroundings.

I don't have to think of the feeling I will get when I arrive, I will already be back inside my comfortable place that is Brooklyn, my home.

Friendship

I was given the directive that if I write more, it will help me get out of my INTJness so here I am. I want to write about friendship. Friendship to me is as tricky as falling in love and knowing if you are with the one and how to know when to spend the rest of your life with someone.

When I was younger I had a difficult time understanding what a friend was because it seemed those I considered friends would toss me at the drop of a hat for reasons that still escape me to this day (please don't ask me why I decide to dwell on dumb shit like this instead of keep all the information on GnRH in fish in my head instead and I would have been able to have had a better answer to that question at my prelims).

I can recall three instances in my younger years when three different people I considered friends one day just started to ignore me. For no reason. One of them even wrote my name in their calendar with a "= hate" next to it. How could anyone hate me? I never say anything! Maybe in those days I had less of a filter. Then I decided I needed to filter more and more and suddenly found myself with less to say for fear it would make someone not want to be my friend anymore.  I took this with me into my romantic relationships. Always fearing if I said something less than flattering it would end the relationship right there. So why bother saying anything negative therefore I would endure the worst kind of being taken advantage of you could imagine and then I would cheat on that person and couldn't figure out why I was so unhappy. Wow that seems really a dumb way to go about shit.

Wow.

Glad I saw the error in my ways. 

Not.

Anyway, I still kind of struggle with knowing how to maintain friendships and how to start them. I guess it really depends on the personality of the person I meet. I have learned that friendships like romantic relationships need to be cultivated, encouraged and are two way streets.  I broke out of my shell this week and invited two friends from grad school who I see infrequently only because our lives are so busy, to lunch for dim sum.  One could not make it, the other came with her boyfriend (who I have met on many occasions and who I like very much) and her boyfriend's daughter. We had a great time. We got to catch up on each other's lives and enjoy delicious food all at the same time. I live for that! What a great day. A true friend.

This makes me think of another friend of mine who I cherish more than she probably knows. She helped the most at one of the lowest points in my life. Not to sound too corny but she was a shining beacon in the grimness and greyness my life was at that time. She believed in me when even I would not and the rest of the world was falling down on me. I can not express how grateful I am to her, to this day and always for how she picked me up when I was low. I have told her many times but I do not know how much she knows she changed my life by just encouraging me and not letting me give up when I really, really wanted to. So this friendship I know how it works, and I don't take it for granted and I enjoy every moment we spend together.

What a treat it is to know where your true friends are. I know she would never toss me at the drop of a hat.

Sidewalks Part III - danger zone just trying to take a stroll

So I know I mentioned practically taking my life in my own hands just getting my mail at the mailbox but I nearly got mowed down by some asshole in a Mercedes SUV last Friday night just walking the dog. Here again I want to emphasize if our damn street had sidewalks throughout the neighborhood, my near brush with death would be nonexistant.

I was out with the dog just at dusk. I brought my flashlight, almost as an after thought; thank goodness A said to take it! I was walking down our street (flashlight on, brightly lit) where it essentially forms a T with a connecting street and there is a STOP sign at the corner of the connecting street. I am walking in the street (no sidewalks, remember?) when suddenly I see this giant black SUV coming toward me and making a huge arc coming from the connecting street. Apparently asshole SUV decided to take that turn way wide (probably because he was not paying attention). Me and the dog had to jump (nearly dive) onto the lawn of the house I was walking in front of. As I watched the car continue on and I yelled "asshole, what the fuck was that?" I see the woman in the passenger seat with this look of shock and her mouth in the shape of an "o".  I so wished the windows were open.

INTJ

INTJ- Meyers-Briggs personality type. That's me. It's a blessing and a curse. No. Scratch that. It's a curse. If you're not one of these you have no idea what it is like to be stuck in your head all day and have others not be able to figure you out.

I unfortunately have others misinterpret me on a constant basis. And to top it all off, I am not the classic INTJ who doesn't get bothered by misgivings in others. I take it to heart and get bent out of shape and blame myself if others don't agree. What the hell?

Does that sound sane to you?

I am too accomodating, and never look out for myself. I am quick to blame myself and take the blame, often for things that have nothing to do with me! What the hell?

Does that sound rational?

But, INTJness makes me an excellent scientist. So if anyone were to doubt that in me, shove it. And I can prove it. And fuck you for ever doubting me.

Wish I could give my INTJness away and trade it in for something more present. I feel like others feel like I'm never present. I feel like I have to constantly prove to others when I am. I wish I could get away from myself sometimes...forget the inside and focus on what goes on around me. It's really hard. You have no idea.

Sidewalks Part II

Walking the dog, I notice now that my neighborhood has sidewalk elitism. The new-fangled development down the block with the HOA and rules and regs and speed bumps with non-descript homes and clueless suburbanites who leave their garage doors open all day and night have sidewalks. We on the other side of the tracks in the modest-income older home section do not. I have to take my life in my hands everytime I go to the mailbox.

Boyfriend has a friend on the police force in our county...when he asked him about what we could do to slow down the idiots who speed down our section of the neighborhood that has young children playing and a disabled child he replied "drywall screws". Just toss 'em out into the street. They'll learn. Well, I would love to do that but me and my non-constraint would probably wind up throwing them at the car instead of nonchalantly throwing them into the street in hopes of flattening a tire or two. Then we'd be in a real pickle.

Anyway, I digress...if our side of the tracks had sidewalks, I wouldn't feel as fearful just going to get my mail. As it is I have to look both ways before I get the mail. Plus, our mailbox has been vandalized on several occasions, once even the police were called because our mailbox head got chopped off and replaced onto our neighbor's mailbox post. Hooligans I tell ya'.  I think the suburbs need to re-evaluate what they have to offer...peace of mind? Quiet? Low crime? You gotta be kidding! And what the hell is up with me having to *walk* to my mailbox? Who ever heard of such a thing?

Afraid

I'm afraid. I had a scare. I'm not sure what to do. I'm trying to be sure I am looking out for myself but don't want to be drastic in my attempts. But when I find out the reality, I will follow the lead of the person whose opinion on the matter means the most.

I'll either be ready for a drastic change or find new meaning in how to determine how best to protect myself after a lifetime of others doing this for me and realizing I fall short when it become up to me to make the decisions and I can't recognize the situation.

My time has come.

Withdrawal Symptoms

I'm starting to have withdrawal symptoms from being away from New York City for too long. I have sudden urges to hop subway trains and eat in trendy cafes, window shop and tell someone I'll meet them at a numbered street and a numbered avenue without saying "avenue".

I want to go see a weird museum exhibit, I want to stroll through Central Park and sit down on a park bench and read, or sit in a coffe shop and surf the internet while waiting for a friend before we go see a movie.

I want to take the dog for a walk around the block or to the park to meet others with dogs so they can run around because my backyard is a postage stamp and not the grassy, wooded sprawl I have in reality.

I feel like going to the botanic gardens or to the beach before beach season to truly enjoy it. I want to do all these things I used to do when I was a city dweller rather than what I am now: a suburban commuter. Yeesh. Never thought I'd see the day yet here I am.

Last week I needed a bagel fix so I got a dozen bagels and 1/4 pound of lox. I want to answer questions with a question and be sarcastic and witty while narrowly avoiding double-parked cars.

I want to stroll down the street and see odd things that I wish I had my camera handy for. I want my small group of friends I once had that were always within short driving distance, walk, or bus.

I'm having withdrawal to the way things were, before I was so preoccupied with my academic life. Now that that challenge has been met, I think I am looking for more and city dwelling seems my way I know how. What is challenging about the suburbs?