Overwhelmed and my pulse is racing…

Was in CT for five days, too little sleep and up too early this morning, worked too many hours yesterday. Did tax stuff this morning, launched #MarchingWithMe, packed up the car, drove back to NYC, unpacked the car, did more #MarchingWithMe, finally ate and showered, now transcribing an interview for a piece that was due a million years ago, and prepping for a first date with a guy who, if last night’s phone call is to be considered, might turn out to be adorable.

My pulse is racing, head is pounding, and I only just realized I can’t blame it on the one cup of coffee I had at 8am. WonderWoman-ing... listing my ladies… breathing… happy, hopeful, but feeling a crash coming on. Breathing…


Killer Queen

“Drop of a hat she’s as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild..
She’s all out to get you

She’s a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind

(Lines from Queen’s Killer Queen, this month’s anthem. That’s all. Bye!)



These are the facts: 

  • I am so so so tired. Like, I worked way too long and hard today on top of having gone to the far reaches of Queens to see my tios for lunch. So spoons are gone. 
  • It’s 8:30pm
  • I’m finally eating dinner on bed.
  • I didn’t watch any television for the last two evenings, as I was reading a very lovely book and that took precedence.
  • There are only about forty pages left in said book. 
  • I have three twenty-minute shows sitting unwatched in my Hulu queue I normally like to watch together. 

So, options:  Continue reading


Money’s Always Sunny In a Rich Man’s World

This morning, I texted my brother how I got an email from Mint (a financial program I use) that my credit score dropped. Then I got refused for a credit card I applied for online, intending to transfer one of my higher-APRs and then pay it off before the term ended. Neither of these things have ever happened to me before in my life. So I’m feeling good today!

Now walkin’ Mitra as I plan the rest of my morning and invoking a lot of Carrie Fisher (one of my Wonder Women) cause in my head she says FUCK IT! a lot. And I’ve decided that I can be a gentle, soft, compassionate soul who also says fuck it. Because sometimes shit sucks. And being a bit tough about that can maybe be the most compassionate response in certain circumstances. I will get over this hurdle. I have been taking action. I will keep taking action. There is no need to pile negative thought on top of all that. So for now, fuck it.


Sickness + Body Language = Accidental Inferiority?

When you’re sick, you fold over and hold onto your neck area a lot. At least, I do.

Amy Cuddy claims this body language fosters feelings of inferiority. So I wonder if many years of doing this have contributed to this lack of confidence I now have? This turning in and shutting down? Because of the pain I feel and a want to protect myself, I close my body off and make it smaller.

So I’m already actively noting it and trying to do the opposite as I sit or stand or work; broadening instead of crumbling.


TeleWonderWoman Day 1

My morning, my city, my day. My project, my work, my words. 

My morning, my city, my day. My project, my words, my world.

I breathed that, in and out, this morning, as I Wonder Woman’d and gazed down my front window onto Riverside drive. I already love this challenge.

Last night, knowing I would be able to watch television but also that I wanted to change my habit, I watched less of it; sick in bed at 5pm, I watched a short Christmas movie, then a short documentary about Minimalism (I’m still curious after my experience with the No Shopping period), and then read, and was fast asleep by ten. This morning, in the shower by seven and in my pose while coffee perked by seven-thirty, gazing powerfully below. When my heart started racing — almost scarily — I invoked the mantra I came up with last night while walking Mitra: a list of five lady names I can invoke when needing to flip those negative thoughts. And now I’m here: typing away, dreadfully needing coffee, but ready for today.

Good morning. Good morning!


New Year, New Challenge, New Wonder Woman

I need to work on confidence. My spirit, energy, life force, qi, whatever, is shrinking.

I’ve become more introverted, quieter, and fulfilled by gentler adventures these past few years. To a certain extent, this pleases me; our edges soften as we age, right? And hell, my twenties were certainly raucous enough for one lifetime. But then there’s the part I do not choose, and cannot control. The part that is purely physical, determined by that stupid bug that bit me so many stupid years ago. The part that I can’t do anything about. Or can I? Continue reading


Articulating Christmas, and the No Gifting Challenge Complete

I’m having a hard time being a human right now.

I sit at my desk back in New York City, and various body parts hurt: hip joints, neck, head, entire digestive track. Things burn and throb and cramp. The entire sack of flesh and spirit that makes “me” is tired.

She has been for days. I do not know exactly why. I do not know why I wake thinking, “Today is going to be better”, and then symptoms get worse. I know this string will pass–it always does. But as I’ve attempted to wrap my brain around what Christmas has meant in my head and heart, all I land upon is, Why am I not a better “sick person” by now? Continue reading


Hard Candy Christmas Eve (Eve)

December 23rd: I love this evening, every year. 

New York city softens. She quiets down. Except for when laughter ripples through my building, welcoming whichever new family rolls their suitcases in to stay, the air is emptier.

I spent much of the day playing with images and quotes and rereading passages and smiling at god knows what, then buckled down for hours of focused work, forcing myself to sit until a large task was through. Chinese delivery for dinner, laundry, fifteen-minute clips of cheesy Christmas movies, cleaning for my short trip home in the morning, and here I am: tipsy and tired, with all clean and quiet around me, muted orange light outside my window and the pale glow of colors within. I am happy. Content. With nothing to give tomorrow other than my time, and me. Continue reading


Absence of holiday loot, absence of sugar, absence of concern…

Yesterday morning, I walked Mitra and pondered how something feels missing this Christmas.

I’m listening to the music, watching the movies. The apartment has been cheerfully decorated since just after Thanksgiving. I hosted the dinner party, my table bedecked in red and green and gold. Hell, I even had a fire going while the snow fell Thursday and I was working at the family office in Connecticut.

But I haven’t yet made a single Christmas cookie, and I don’t think I will at all this year. There’s the obvious lack of gift giving because of the current challenge. And there’s a self-imposed Dickensian period ahead, best summed up in one of my favorite of holiday flicks, A Muppet Christmas Carol (don’t mock, it’s brilliant):

“I was often alone. More time for reading and study. The Christmas holiday was a chance to get some extra work done. A time for solitude.”

Continue reading


Winter, Christmas, and What I Want from Life Beyond 2016

It’s cold and gray this morning.

That kind of December day in New York City where you wake to dripping outside, and I can feel the temperature by how the cold is resonating from the exterior wall of my apartment. But at the same time, the steam radiator is making it deliciously overheated in my bedroom, so I burrow in bed with Mitra and a too-thick down comforter, on the verge of being too hot.

It’s just right, right now. Were there another body in here with me, I’d be steaming and sweating and my bones would be on fire and in pain. But this morning, I’m blissfully cozy, and only rise to write. Continue reading


Pondering presence versus presents…

This season is, to me, about love, sacrifice, compassion, joy, and giving from the heart. But I’m at the age where my parents are looking to retire, my grandparents are dealing with decades of retirement and medical expenses, my friends and siblings are handling new jobs and mortgages and expanding families, and lil ol’ me is here, still dealing with this expensive body and this (lovely) low-paying artist’s life.

When we all don’t have money to spend, why can’t we find another way to give?

That’s what this challenge is supposed to be. I’m running into a few problems, though. Continue reading


37 days later, I drink wine… and it hurts.

My head is fuzzy. And not in the good way.

I drank two glasses of wine last night. 37 days after I’d gone off of sugar.. A crisp, delicious Vermentino, at my favorite tiny Italian wine and oyster bar in the West Village,

They were a crisp Vermentino at Virgola, my favorite tiny Italian wine bar in the West Village. I slurped down oysters with a dear old friend, laughing about love and commiserating about work, thoroughly enjoying my divine white. I wasn’t tempted to order a third, and no irrational desire to gorge overtook me. I went home with a slightly spinning head, my tolerance obviously changed. But I thought, “Fun! No harm done!”

Then… sleep. Continue reading