New things

I was up late so am up late. Clinton street is already alive and happening. There was a huge party last night across the street and hopefully some of them stayed put, didnt' drive home. It was a quiet night, a good night to be home. We watched the original King Kong and it was so much better than the new one. I did like the new monkey, though. This one, the original 1933 model, was such a cartoon of itself, and I know that at the time he dazzled audiences and struck fear in the hearts of children. We have come a long way in the movie biz. Too bad we don't bring such monumental change to politics.

Not to change the subject, but who the hell is going to be the next democratic frontrunner? I am always concerned at this stage, waiting for something like the Christ-child to be born in Bethlehem to lead us away from this mire. I don't think he/she will or can. I think they are all the same. I heard maybe Tom Hanks and Bill Cosby as the ticket to beat, but don't want to throw political commentary out there ahead of the pack. I don't know shit. There's always Hillary.

I think Jack Black ruined King Kong. I really do.

Well, it is a new year, and in the spirit of all that, I will remind you that I don't really do the whole resolution thing. They are all the same: Lose weight, exercise more. I would like to stop saying FUCK when I'm annoyed, but I never do. I try to stop cussing, but sometimes there simply isn't a more succint way to get my point across. My (tiny, asian, female) doctor says, "Whatever you eat, eat less; whatever you do, do more." Great advice. I hate her. The Christmas 10 sits on the hips of the Thanksgiving 5, and I sit on both.

My shoulder hurts. My arm hangs like a deadened limb in need of pruning. I had an MRI last thursday and should know the cause and cure on Tuesday. Probably a rotator cuff tear and subsequent surgery. I hate surgery. I mean, who doesn't, right? But I can speak with some authority. When my appendix blew up in July, I was really hoping that would be the last time somebody carved me like a ham.

I also had my big interview Thursday and am anxiously awaiting their response. Anxiously.... very. I met with two women, talked for nearly 2 hours, and came away feeling good about it. But time passes and I lose my confidence, and can't imagine anyone hiring me for anything. I should write for a living. I should paint. I am not fit for public consumption. Poor me. But truly, I will quit my job no matter what. I will jump out on the limb and trust. That may be a bad idea, but I am considering it. Driving to Mac every day is not okay.

My shoulder hurts. Did I mention that?


As to my life, I received a letter from my cousin Reed on Thursday. He is an honestly sweet man, first cousin on my father's side: the somewhat saner side. Actually, both "sides" are fairly sane. It was just that my family was the anomaly. The black sheep family of many fairly well adjusted families. But I'm sure you know what I know: scratch the surface and they're all a mess. Some just cover better. We didn't even try. We wore our wounds like badges of some unconveyed honor: the proud, the poor, the mad.

The Drunk.

So, my sweet cousin writes: "You have disappeared from the family."

I have. Effectively. And I am a happier woman for it. It is terribly convenient that I fell dead-set in love just after burying my brother, just after buring my mother, and deciding unequivocally that I would not see to the final events of my drunken sister's life. I was done. I am done, still. Done being the family social worker. And I don't know how to explain this to dear sweet Reed. I guess I could direct him to this diatribe and let him ferret out the reasons for himself. I am transparent as glass. No secrets here.

I think disappearing at 50 is a great idea. Become someone else. We live too long anyway. Have a couple of lives. Have three.

But whatever you do, have a happy new year. And I think: the whole year? Be happy the whole freakin' year?

Okay. I'll try.