One Year
Monday, May 26, 2008

"You know, when I was 19, Granpa took me on a roller coaster. Up, down, up, down. Oh what a ride! I always wanted to go again. You know, it was always so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so excited and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it." -Grandma in Parenthood


Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:00 PM 4 comments  

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So Hum
Thursday, May 22, 2008

I write the best blog posts in yoga. When I'm in warrior two and I'm not supposed to be thinking of anything at all, these amazing blog posts come into my head. And as I hear the teacher say, "Just notice the thoughts and let them go...clear your mind." I end up thinking, "NO! NO! I don't want to clear my mind!! I need to remember this...it came beCAUSE I had a clear mind...but now I need to remember so that I can actually WRITE when I get home...

But then I leave yoga, and the writing is no more. My brain is suddenly completely void of the seemingly brilliant thoughts that were flowing through my head as my body flowed through a vinyasa.

I love how spell check tells me that I've spelled that last word wrong. It's suggestions are as follows: Kirinyaga
vinyls
vineyards

WHAT THE HELL IS KIRINYAGA? They know the word Kirinyaga and they don't know the word vinyasa? Someone needs to bring spellcheck into the 21st century.

Anyhow, my brain has been busy - finishing a paper for class, planning trips to Barcelona, getting ready to go to Napa. It hasn't had much time to come up with anything great to write about here. It hasn't really felt so inclined. Except, of course, mid-yoga.

You know how, as a child, anytime you were told something was off limits, you wanted to do it more? I think that's what my brain does during yoga. It's told to just be...and it starts out that way. It takes on the meditation "So Hum." So on the inhale, Hum on the exhale. I am truth. But then So Hum starts to become ho hum...and my brain starts to think. Involuntarily!! That's the moment when I realize that I made two appointments at the same time for next Thursday. That's the time when I remember that I missed someone's birthday or that it's in two days. That's the time when I remember the thought that I could not FOR THE LIFE OF ME get back during my conversation the night before. And lately, it's been the time that I write blog posts. If my brain could mentally telepathize those posts here, you'd be riveted.

But in the meantime, you'll have to trust that someday, those thoughts will come back and they'll materialize here. Until then, I'm off to Napa for the weekend. I'm sure I'll have much to discuss upon my return.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:11 PM 1 comments  

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Musings on a plane ride from coast to coast
Monday, May 12, 2008

Apparently Samantha is living in LA.

I found this out last night on the plane ride back from my 36 hour jaunt to Boston for Mother's Day. I bought Vogue because SJP graced the cover and even though I still mourn the fact that she's not half as cool in real life as Carrie is, I couldn't resist anything having to do with Sex and the City. Yes - that Samantha.

There is a line in the article that reads: In the story, all the girls have moved on: Samantha is living in L.A., Charlotte is settled in with her adopted Chinese daughter, and Miranda...is married and living in Brooklyn.

As I read "Samantha is living in L.A.", all of a sudden I had tears spilling over onto the page. I practically rolled my eyes at myself. It wasn't enough that I've cried EVERY SINGLE TIME that I've seen the trailer for this stupid movie. Now I was crying at a magazine article? What the hell???

Well, I'll tell you what the hell.

Things change. Even in Sex and the City things change. Yes, their lives were always constantly shifting - men, jobs, apartments. But through it all, they were together. In New York City. When Carrie moved to Paris for four episodes it was impossible that it would ever last...she was obviously going to move back. Because while everything else around them was constantly changing, Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte stayed put.

But things change. And Samantha goes to LA.

I got an email from a friend of mine who's still in college. She just got back from Semester at Sea. She wrote that she hasn't been able to stop crying since she got home. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up slightly in acknowledgment as I read her email. It wasn't a smile per se. It was an understanding. An ahhhhhh, yes. I recognize her ache. I have felt that too on so many occasions. The end of camp. The end of college. The end of a show. Moving to NYC. Moving from NYC. The end of wedding planning (ummm - RIDICULOUS but true.) It's the feeling of wondering how it could it possibly ever be better than this moment. The fear that it will never be as good as this again. And ultimately, the realization of exactly how special the moment you were just in actually is.

Things change. Samantha goes to LA. And I did too.

But here's the thing.

Those moments DO happen again. New ones. Even better than the last ones. Or sometimes different. We will forever long for those days (of college, of early 20's, of whatever...). Or I. I should say I. I'm speaking for me. But if I stayed in those moments that I end up mourning, I don't think it would stay special. I don't think I'd continue to appreciate it. And within those little microcosms, things would begin to change too.

So it's true that nothing lasts forever. That dreams change and trends come and go. But at the end of the day, the most important part of all of that is that the best friendships never ever go out of style. They, too, may change. Shift. Perhaps have growing pains. Some may fall by the wayside from missed communications or just growing up and growing apart. But there are people that just become a part of your chemical makeup. That I can say with the utmost certainty, will be a part of my life for the rest of it. No matter the location, no matter the situation. My Samantha and Charlotte and Miranda, my Anthony and my Stanford will be around. Forever.

Those friendships will never, EVER go out of style.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:27 PM 2 comments  

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A Love Letter to Ina
Monday, May 5, 2008

I read cookbooks. Like cover to cover.

This is a shock to me. I had no idea that I was going to grow up and be a cookbook reader.

This evening I came home from work and my Amazon.com shipment had arrived. It contained three books:

1. How'd You Score That Gig - a book that was promoted in my "Daily Cents" email and I just couldn't resist given my influx of career thoughts these days.

2. Colin Cowie's Chic- I recently bought this for a close friend for her birthday and it was nearly impossible not to keep it for myself. So I did the next best thing and bought myself one too. How do you resist a book with PERFECT advice on home, entertaining, travel, and work from one of the most fabulous gay men alive???

3. The Barefoot Contessa at Home- which brings me to this post. You know how Sesame Street is brought to you by a letter? Like the letter Q. or R. or any of the other 24 letters. This post is brought to you by the Barefoot Contessa.

When I opened the package, I stared at all three and contemplated - but I was immediately drawn to Ina. And I didn't just turn to the recipes. I wanted to read her introduction. I WANTED to. Ummmmm...I am a cookbook introduction reading 32 year old woman. AND I LOVE IT.

I'm only 40 pages into her 249 pages of delectable delights but I'm already dreaming of dinner parties with perfect margaritas (no margarita mix!!!!) and pan-fried french onion dip (made ENTIRELY from scratch) and most importantly lots and lots of laughing. And warmth. Ina talks about a home filled with warmth. Where people walk in and they feel like family. And that's why I love Ina. Sure, her recipes are amaaaaazing. Next level. Truly my favorites. I know if I cook Barefoot, I'm cooking a good meal. But the Ina's philosophy rings true for me even more:

"A good home should gather you up in its arms like a warm cashmere blanket, soothe your hurt feelings, and prepare you to go back out into that big bad world tomorrow all ready to fight the dragons....Sure it has to make (myself and my husband) feel comfortable, but equally important, it has to make my friends want to drop by."

This. This is the philosophy I want to live by. This is what life is about. Having a home that feels like a home to each and every person that comes here. With chairs that they can sink their bodies into and food they can sink their teeth into and conversation they can sink their souls into. This is what life is about.

I'm 32 and I read cookbooks. Excuse me now. I have to go finish...

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 8:48 PM 4 comments  

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I don't do lines
Friday, May 2, 2008

I don't do lines. And btw, I'm not talking about grocery store lines or movie lines. I'm talking about get into a club for an acquaintance's birthday party line. Call me what you want - a snob, stuck up, a bitch (I call me smart)...but I don't do lines.

Tonight I went to STK for said acquaintance's birthday. Oh - and click on that link to be officially disgusted (when you get there, click on the STK link). I can save you a trip if you'd like. First you'll see a woman's calf so defined (by photoshop clearly) that you might want to puke. If that doesn't do it, your gag reflex will definitely kick in when you see the piece of raw meat hanging off a captain hook hand. Next up is the picture of bright red lips bighting into a chunk o' filet. This is supposed to be sexy by the way. Lastly is the lovely shot of the spike heel digging into the bright red bloody beef. V. I. L. E. And I like a good steak. But seriously? This is revolting.

Oh and also, did I mention I had dinner here on Tuesday night? And it was actually surprisingly good. After seeing the website I was highly skeptical but I ended up being pleasantly surprised. So when I was told to "swing by" said birthday party I figured why not? I had no idea that STK had an entirely different section that is a bona fide CLUB. Yes I'm TOTALLY out of the loop. Entirely.

I should have gotten the hint when the valet line was 10 cars long. But I just figured I was dealing with a bunch of lazy ass people and found myself some street parking. However, when I walked up, it was like I was at an entirely different restaurant than I'd been to on Tuesday night. That's because I was no longer at a restaurant. In true LA nightclub fashion, I found myself surrounded by women plastered in makeup, wearing heels too high for them to walk in, leaning on the arms of men pretending to be more important than they are. I bypassed this scene and headed into the restaurant, certain that there must be some sort of mistake. I pushed my way past paparazzi standing like vultures awaiting the possible prey that might come out of one of the aforementioned cars valeting.

In the safety of the restaurant, I called my friend to see where they were. I should have known I had it all wrong since my husband couldn't hear a word I was saying when I'd called him earlier. (Why wasn't I with him? I had a dinner party with some work colleagues earlier in the evening and agreed to meet him there after. Huge mistake. HUGE.) So I tried Amy, only to find that she couldn't hear me either. She said something about looking for me on the patio. And I turned around to come face to face with a patio resembling a sardine can. I knew I was not going to be a happy person, but still...I opted to give it a shot. I went up to the guy at the patio entrance and told him who's birthday I was there for.

"There's a guest list at the front door."

A GUEST LIST? FOR A BIRTHDAY PARTY? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

I walked back out past the vultures and took one look at the slew of people lying in wait to get into a place where no one could hear each other talk and where moving from one side of the room to the other would take at least 20 minutes and decided to go home. I knew I could make my way to the front of the line and someone would come out and get me. That I wouldn't actually have to wait in that line if I didn't want to.

But to what end? So I could go see my friends but not hear a thing they were saying? (That is if I could even FIND them in the ridiculous crowds inside...) So I could get sandwiched between people hoping to get noticed or shoved between two drunk morons? So I could lose my voice attempting to say "excuse me"? So I could get to the bathroom and wait in line for 20 minutes to pee? So I could say I was at STK last night? So I could "see and be seen"? Ummmm...let me think about this for a moment. Can't think of anything I'd rather do less.

Lines=Clubs=so NOT fun. I don't do lines.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:24 AM 2 comments  

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This post brought to you by the grape Chardonnay
Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Why is it that we don't learn most of things we need to learn to help us through an experience until we've already been through that experience and sort of...in some way or another...screwed it up. It's true. You learn lessons from...well...lessons. You learn from doing. From being. From living. But that means that the living produces heartache and feelings of failure and confusion. You ask yourself what if you'd known that before you were here, in this moment? You wonder why the epiphany comes after the moment when you needed it most.

Is this just how life works? As Alanis once said, "You live, you learn. You breathe, you learn." Is that just how it is? So you do it better next time?

Are we simply who we are, the better and wiser versions of ourselves, because we make mistakes, because we fall down? Sometimes I'd just like to walk without tripping.

How do some people do it right the first time? Do they remember from past lives or something?

All thoughts on an evening of perhaps a bit too much chardonnay.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:35 PM 4 comments  

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In which she learns that there's more to her than she might realize...
Thursday, April 17, 2008

I've always worked better with restrictions. I'm not so good with simply "write a story" or "paint a picture" or just go create something...without any guidelines to follow. For many people, this might feel freeing. It allows them to be as creative and inspired as they want to be. Not so for me. I am inspired by figuring out how to create inside of limitations. A puzzle or a problem if you will. Free reign makes me uncomfortable. Freedom makes me second guess. While the lack of limitations very clearly says "there's no right or wrong", I am constantly left feeling as though I can still do it wrong and will. That mine will never be as creative as everyone else's.

This was the case when I got my first assignment for class last week:

On an approximately 8-1/2 x 11 (or larger) posterboard or reinforced paper, and using collage, water color, goache, or any other medium, "explain" yourself in color.

The color part was easy. Sort of. There are colors that I know I'm not. I'm not green and I'm most definitely not blue. I don't really think I'm so orange. I had colors that popped into my head immediately. The problem was that I had to remind myself that this was not about colors I liked and, given my proclivity for fashion, I also had to remind myself that this was not about colors that looked fabulous together. The latter of these two caused me to initially think monochromatically (simply because I felt like it would look good) but I quickly realized that there is no chance in hell that I am just one color with many different tones. After repeatedly reminding myself that this was about colors that describe me (not look good on me) I settled on yellow - bright yellow, but also some gold, and red in shades ranging from cherry to deep fire to more pinky magenta.

I went to the art store and bought paper and some paints and mosaic tiles and those sort of oil-y crayons that we used to call craypaws in first grade (oh wait - I think it was craypas...like French or something. Goes to show you how sophisticated I am). I had almost zero game plan, but I figured it was good to start with some supplies. I knew that I'd try to find images in my colors in magazines and I knew that I wanted to have some sort of structure to my collage. I got home and started cutting. As I flipped and searched and cut, I came up with the concept of doing a huge flower with each of the petals being a different color and all of them swirling together in the center. Sounds great - Right? Say yes or I'll kill you. (Or make you pay for therapy.)

Actually, it wasn't. It turns out as I started laying it out on the paper, it was anything but great. It was, in fact, horrible. So I started playing around with the different magazine cutouts, trying to figure out some sort of plan, some sort of concept. The more I played, the further I felt from coming up with anything.

At about midnight on Sunday, I ended up screaming, "I am not a freaking artist damnit!!" to absolutely no one since my husband and dog had gone to bed several hours before.

As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I felt completely and totally discouraged. My project was supposed to be FINISHED by that time, given that I would be at work from 8:30 in the morning until 7 at night for the next two days and I couldn't exactly get away with painting and pasting in my cubicle.

I awoke at 6 the next morning, determined to find another concept. I perused magazine upon magazine and finally, found exactly what I was looking for in the pages of Domino. It was a painting that had the exact kind of feel I was going for. The picture had a yellow background with two black rolling hills and 2 figures walking on the hills. One of them was picking a flower in one hand and had a cornucopia of flowers pouring up to the sky in the other hand while the other was dancing along the hills with a small armful of flowers. I loved it! I would do my own interpretation using the paints and all the floral magazine cutouts that I had. AND I could find more floral pix at work during the day so that I'd have more than enough!

(I managed to find the painting on line...I LOVE THIS. We can add this painting to my want list...k? And you can find it here. The artist is Maggy Rozycki Hiltner. I heart her.)



That night I came home ready to make my own version of this picture. The plan was to make a gold hill with a magenta figure carrying the cone of flowers. I drew the picture and started to lay the flowers out and realized that this wasn't happening either. It wasn't for my lack of drawing skills and the concept came across just fine. But my way, it didn't work. Maggy's way sort of says me perfectly. But my job was to do it my way. And my way was NOT working. Even though my cornucopia of flowers was full of yellow and red, it looked nothing like me.

I wiped the many little flower cutouts away and stared at the page. I was surrounded by scraps of magazine pages. Everything was spread out on our dining room table and none of it made any sense. I felt totally and completely screwed. I hadn't waited until the last minute to start, but here I was - at the last minute, totally panicked. I stared at the white piece of paper in front of me and all the little cutout flowers around me. I opened the paint brushes and paints and I just started painting. I swiped colors across the page, I smudged the craypas to mix into different hues. I sprinkled gold over red and magenta over yellow. I didn't know what I was painting but I knew that I had stopped worrying and I was having fun.

The end result was a picture that could be looked at in one of two ways - as something that might hang in the Museum of Contemporary Art (ummmm....longshot) or on the wall of a kindergarten classroom (much more likely). But it was done. And while I was still concerned that I'd totally done it wrong and that everyone else's was going to be better than mine, I was happy with. It seemed a little out of control and in places even messy - but it was...me. (which clearly is at times out of control and messy...who the hell am I kidding??) And me wa the assignment - right? (You have to say yes here, because that was the assignment. It was...)

We got to class and hung our pictures at the front of the room. There were some beautiful pieces and all of them were totally different - not, as I'd been concerned - "right" or "wrong".

The lecturer for the evening was an expert on color and composition. And she was about to tell the entire class about our personalities based on our pictures. Fascinating.

She started by talking about the whole planned and controlled vs. spontaneous and free mindset. She discussed the fact that obviously, most people are a blend of both, but that often, from this assignment, it was clear which end of the spectrum the creator veered toward.

It's obvious which end of the spectrum I'm in...I'm a control freak. I like everything planned out and in it's place. But as I looked at my picture, it was clear that was NOT what it said.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, yours truly created the picture that was picked by several people in the class as the picture that exhibited the MOST spontaneity, the most fly by the seat of your pants attitude. She said that my picture exhibited the ability to go with the flow and just get carried. My picture exhibited a lot of emotion and passion. The few random circles on the page seemed to suggest some moments of frustration. The yellow represented optimism and the belief that I hold power within myself. The gold said that I was extroverted, occasionally like to sparkle and make some noise. She spoke very little about the red actually - except to say that it suggests that I have strong emotions and I'm passionate. Later on she spoke about other meanings of red - but I think it's interesting to talk about the parts of the painting that she felt stood out and spoke to her because she seemed to be pretty spot on.

It was hard for me to even think about the meanings of the colors because I was sitting there baffled by what my picture was saying about me - not only to the expert, but to a classroom full of people.

I'm...spontaneous? go with the flow? fly by the seat of my FREAKING PANTS?????

But the truth is that it actually makes perfect sense.

I often spend my life trying to control things - planning and plotting and making lists. But life seems to have a plan of it's own...and you often have very little say in it . Things have a funny way of rarely turning out how you plan them. And as my very wise therapist has often pointed out to me, control is an illusion on every level. We can try to control and plan - and most of us do - but really, we're just pawns in the game of something greater. Call it the universe, call it God, call it whatever you want. But something or someone else is up there pulling puppet strings, making it all happen.

I tried and tried to plan this project exactly how I thought it should be. I pondered, I had a well thought out plan. But my planning didn't work. In fact, my attempt at planning left me exasperated, frustrated, downright pissed. When I let myself get carried by the project, it all worked out. Maybe I need to spend a little less time planning and a little more time getting carried by the brushes and the paints and the ideas swirling around. Maybe I need to let it all happen a little more and not spend so much time pondering and trying to figure out how to fit it together. Maybe I need to let spontaneity take the reigns for the moment.




Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 7:08 PM 2 comments  

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