Saturday, October 24, 2009

who's coming to dinner

when i first moved to new york, my cousin jeremey picked me up and helped move me in.
when i was four i used to call him "jermy"
my aunt rose was the first person to visit me and was my most frequent visitor
when she came into town she would spoil me silly
boots, dinners, trips to the russian tea room or bloomingdales
then we grew apart and lost sight of each other.

but tonight we met for dinner and i was reminded of how much i love this woman and how important she has always been to me.
my father called me in the middle of our dinner and i felt guilty i did not pick up but even guiltier that i was talking freely with rose about everything
we talked about life and love and family and boundaries and the dangerous outcome of harboring feelings of hatred towards my dad's girlfriend.
i felt bad that i told her how i felt, for gossiping, but it also felt good to connect with her again
she is one of my mothers and i have missed her. i didn't realize how much i missed her until tonight. how much i miss all the women in my life.
my uncle gary and i also had an insightful, meaningful, artistic conversation and i was reminded how lucky i am to have him in my life
he reminded me that i have to be vigilant in controlling negative thoughts because they will do nothing but harm me and i know this but need to hear it and need to hear it from family.
i miss my family but i am also grateful to have all of the interesting relationships with them that i do. i felt happy when i left dinner tonight, which was a first in a long time.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

On coming home

The plane touches down, the "Seatbelts On" sign disappears and my cell phone powers up
A text: "Are you here?"
"Just landed."
"Welcome Home!"
Home.
Did I just come from there or am I here?
When I was headed to the place I was born and raised, the place where all my family resides, I told people I was going to Los Angeles.
When I returned back to New York and people asked me where I had gone I replied, "I went home for the weekend."
The question of disconnect or reconnect comes up again.
"I don't know if I can do this," I tell him.
And the truth is I don't.
Living in limbo, heart spread across two coasts. A better understanding of being spread too thin.

Monday, October 12, 2009

My favorite thing



















Brown scarves and cocktails and warm leather boots
Football and cold beer and unpacking my winter suit
Listening to the Beatles and trying to sing
These are a few of my favorite things

Studying for the GRE and writing again
signed up for yoga to find me my zen
flying for the first time on Virgin America wings
These might be a few of my favorite things

Watching my friends become mommys and daddys
Makes me so envious and yet thankful I'm still a lassie
Enjoying just the two of us without any rings
Reminding myself he is my favorite thing

When I melt down
When I'm overwhelmed
And I 'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite thing
And then I don't feel so bad...

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

The Americans













The Trolley-Photograph by Robert Frank, 1955.
Tonight I went and saw An American Journey with Mike at the Film Forum. A French director went to the places in America where Robert Frank took his pictures for his Guggenheim funded book The Americans. The film made me nostalgic and inspired and reminded me of my own cross country documentary road trip called Dear America. It also made me want to go back in and re-cut the film and part of me wished I could back to some of those places with Carmen and do them over. Part of me wished we'd had turned the cameras more on ourselves and in moments where we were vulnerable. It made me think that one day I would go back and maybe revisit Dear America and all of the people and places that were a part of it. At the beginning of the documentary, a guy came on and said that Robert Frank had passion and purpose. To be a great artist you must have both passion and purpose. Passion and Purpose.