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Throw Rocks At Boys

Pre-Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is tomorrow. In the past, I would go to New Jersey with my parents and brother, to my dad's sister's house. For over 20 years we'd drive there for four hours, arrive and eat some veggies and crackers to restore our faith in humanity after being given the finger a dozen times while driving through the Bronx, and then, along with the rest of the cousins (and later, boyfriends and new husbands of said cousins), go out back and play football before eating dinner.

After I moved to Florida, I still made it home to New York for the annual trek to Jersey for the first couple of years. Last Thanksgiving I house and dog sat for a friend of mine. I spent time with Brooklyn, the neediest dog in the world.

This is my first Thanksgiving living in California. My brother lives here too. In fact, up until last Saturday, we could walk to each other's homes. Now he's just a bus ride away. But he's going away for the holiday with his girlfriend. Here is a list of the Thanksgiving invitations I have gotten:

1. That aunt from Jersey I mentioned? Her husband has a brother who lives about an hour away from me here in CA. He and his wife invited me. They are very, VERY nice. In the last 10 years I have met them twice. They are very well traveled, well informed, well rounded, well spoken people. I am well ... nothing. The last time I met them was this past summer, when they took my brother and me out to dinner. I LITERALLY could not keep up with the conversation. Usually I am not shy about asking about things I know nothing about. Because usually it does not happen more than once or twice an hour. Talking with these relatives was like talking to people in another language that I don't speak, where the only words I understood were "si" or "da" - it got embarrassing very quickly. Needless to say, I politely declined their offer.

2. My brother's best friend from law school and that guy's wife invited me to Thanksgiving at their house, also about an hour away. I thought it would be too weird to go to them when my brother isn't going, since they are really HIS friends, not mine, plus I would be getting back to the city VERY late at night, by myself.

3. A random person I know only online. It's not as weird as it sounds - we've chatted online for over a year now, we've mailed each other things, etc. I think we're both convinced we're both sufficiently normal. Again, she lives about an hour away. Plus, I'm not good with people I don't know well. Or large groups of people. Add the two together and you've got yourself A Real World Challenge for one bonafide social retard named Green.

4. Another random person I know from online. At least I've actually met this one in person, and even met her husband and son. AND I like her. AND I know two of the other guests she'll be having, and like them. This person is vegetarian. Now, there's nothing wrong with that and I totally respect it. We haven't gotten into my food issues here, but suffice it to say I have many. She invited me in person, and then, last night she did it again online. She also posted something on one of the websites we both frequent talking about how she wishes more people were coming to her Thanksgiving dinner. If that part of her post was meant for me to see, it's outrightly mean of me to NOT go. Surely I could suck it up for a few hours on the food front, right? Surely of all the things on the table, I could find SOMETHING, right? Surely it's not REALLY about the food, but about being with people. So why exactly did I decline? She actually only lives a short train ride away, not an hour away. If I were to accept any offers, it would be hers.

Don't I realize there are some people who don't get invited to anyone's Thanksgiving dinner? There are senior citizens who live in nursing homes and have nobody come visit, or take them out to their houses to be with family. There are homeless people who live outside who will just be trying to stay warm tomorrow night. There are people fighting in other countries who will be so busy fighting they won't have time for a fancy holiday dinner, but would jump at the chance to be with their families. Why am I rejecting all offers and then feeling sorry for myself that I'm not doing anything? What the fuck is wrong with me? If you know, please feel free to tell me. Clearly I need all the help I can get. And whatever you do, don't invite me to dinner - apparently I won't go, even if on some level I want to.

All You Need Is Love

A couple of days ago I went to a friend's house to do her a favor for a few hours. I had never been to her house before. She had alluded to being poor a few times. I knew she gets government assistance. I have always tried to be careful about what I said to her and in front of her, that I am careful about what I suggest we do when we get together. I have complained that my apartment is small, simply because it is smaller than the one I recently moved from. She has told me I am wrong - it is big, and I don't know from small.

I am not rich. I was raised in an upper middle-class area on Long Island, NY, living in the poorer section of the town. When everyone got leather Keds with rhinestones, I just got the leather Keds. While everyone else went to Florida for three-day weekends, I went to Queens, NY. Other kids got cars when they got their driver's licenses - not brand new Audi's (ok, SOME did), but the older family car and then the parents bought themselves a new Audi. I was sometimes allowed to drive my mom's Volvo that was bought in the 80's. My allowance never got higher than $3 a week, and it stopped when I was 14. Other kids got $20 per week, plus their parents gave them money each time they were going out with friends. So you see, in the world I came from, I was never rich.

However, this friend's home shocked me. It is SMALL. When I looked out the window, I saw drug dealers. Her kitchen is tiny. Her oven is tiny. There is no table for her to eat her food at. The only door within the whole apartment is for the bathroom, which only has a shower stall, and not a bathtub.

What killed me more than anything was the toys. You see, this friend has a child. I have been in many, many homes where children live. Never have I seen a home where a child has only a total of three baskets of toys. This child is too young to know what she has or doesn't have. All she knows is that her mommy loves her, is always nearby and will always answer her many questions. This child is advanced for her age despite all that she does not have.

My friend did not plan to have a child. She is the epitome of rolling with the punches and making the best of a situation. Despite what is conventionally done, and what is pushed on her by case workers in charge of how much welfare she gets and society in general, she is doing what she thinks is best for her little family. Most people in her financial situation would and do jump at the opportunity to have the government pay for childcare so they could get a job outside the home. My friend does not agree. She has advanced degrees that allow her to work from home. She purposely chooses to work only a little so she can spend quality time with her child. She has told me how she has to explain to her various case workers over and over how she just wants to spend time with her child, how she's spent years paying into the system and now wants to use it for just a few years, so she can raise her child with her own values and morals, instead of having the government pay somebody else to do it for her, while she works at some mediocre job that a high school student would love. It really makes sense to me.

People talk about welfare recipients abusing the system. Not this girl. She really IS spending quality time with her child. It shows. It really, really shows. She should be very proud of herself. In a conversation one time, I said that her child was very smart. Quite sincerely, she thanked me, saying it was nice to hear that from someone other than her mother. She is exactly who welfare is for.

When I saw her home something clicked in my brain. I had noticed a few weeks earlier that each time I got together with this friend, it was always for several hours. Never a two hour lunch, but a seven to 11 hour day spend outside or going places or at my house. Once when we were walking towards home she asked me what time it was. "Only 6pm?" At the time, I thought nothing of it, other than maybe she wasn't a good judge of time for that day. After seeing where she lived, I had to wonder if she spends so much time OUT, because she doesn't want to be IN, at home. I don't know what her mindset is, and we're not that close that I'd feel right asking, but I would be depressed if I spent too much time there.

I cannot say anything to my friend about how impressed I am - because I would cry. But she should know, and she should keep doing what she's doing, because it's working.

You hear people say that money is not everything, but this is money not being everything in action. I am humbled.

My Adoring Fans?

Within the last week, on two different forum threads on Craigslist.org people asked if anyone had a blog. You've got to figure that if I said I do, at least ONE person would ask for a link, right? I think I want people who do not know me at all, and never will, reading. But my family? Roommate? Co-workers? Hell no!

So how do I find people to read this who don't know me?

I'd Rather Be Dancing

Today I took my very first yoga class. I went here: It's Yoga San Francisco

I used to be a ballet dancer. I danced until the muscles in my legs were as strong as a Navy Seal. I was on a gymnastics team. I was so good when I was 6 years old that my parents started trying to figure out if the family could move to Texas so I could train with Bela.

There are two bottom lines about today's yoga class:
1. It definitely made me sweat, and my muscles are sore.
2. I'd rather be dancing.

I had a nice time - I met up with two girls, each of whom I'd met exactly once before, but were both very nice. The instructor was very warm and encouraging and could NOT have been nicer. Nobody else in the class paid me any attention, which is pretty much how I like things. But....

There were certain poses where my body could have gone further, but I didn't have the muscle control to make it happen, and it would have been helpful if the instructor had come over and forced my leg higher, further, whatever the pose called for.

I am used to instructors constantly correcting things. "Shoulders back." "Chest out." "Suck in the gut." "Turn out more." "Hips over knees over feet."
I needed feedback in order to do each pose more perfectly, and didn't get that. Why? Because yoga is not about getting it perfect - it's about gently stretching the body to make it feel good and to make you more aware of, and in touch with, your body. COMPLETELY FOREIGN TO ME!

So all in all, I'm definitely glad I went. I got to experience a yoga class - something I've wanted to do for a long time. I did something social with new people. The yoga, all 90 minutes of it, DEFINITELY worked my body.

But... it gave me a wedgie like no other, and it mostly just made me nostolgic for a ballet class.

What's My Butterfly Effect?

Last weekend I saw the movie The Butterfly Effect, with Ashton Kutcher. In the movie, Ashton has a few events in his life that alter the course it takes. As he reviews his life he can go back in time, and change one event at a time, and then see how it alters the rest. One time is when his neighbor's dad makes him do obscene things with a girl on camera- he goes back in time, tells the dad off, and instead of the girl growing up to become a waitress who has no self respect and ultimately commits suicide, she goes on to college and dates Ashton. But the dad turns all his rage on the brother of the girl, and the brother turns all his rage on Ashton ... there's a whole ripple effect. You get the idea.

It made me wonder what the events in my life were that changed the entire course of where I was going. The longing to have done better, the absolute horror to think it could be worse...where would I be? And what are my butterfly effects?

1. Moving to NY when I was 3&1/2?
2. Getting kicked out of high school?
3. Failing miserably out of college?
4. Being sick for a year and having to relearn how to walk?
5. Moving to Florida?
6. The time I said I love you to my father and he didn't say it back?
7. Moving to CA?

Could I have changed my butterfly effects?

All the times I cried siting on the bottom of the staircase listening to my parents and brother talk and laugh with each other, could I have altered the direction of my life, and the direction of my relationship with each of them if I'd just walked in and joined them?

If I'd been able to articulate what I didn't "get" each time I said, "I don't get it" in school?

If I'd understood the importance of getting back up on the beam?

At what point is life within your control? Does it go in and out of control? When it's out of your control do you always have the ability to grab it back? Or are you just constantly trying to readjust to wherever your life is taking yo

Alex, I'll Take - What IS "Green Yogurt"?

GreenYogurt is me. Green is my favorite color. Yogurt is my favorite food. Yet if you put them together, they wouldn't mesh well.

This is how I feel about myself. I have perfect features. Great eyes, perfect nose, perfect, full lips, thick, brown hair ... you get the idea. I am smart, funny, sensitive, harsh, intense. Yet somehow, when you put me all together into a face on a person, a brain inside the head, just like green yogurt, I don't mesh well with myself.