Posted July 8th, 2003 by Michelle

The events of the past week almost defy description. It has been, well, at best, totally wierd.

Let’s start with the Saturday double I worked just four days ago. I worked the floor during the day, and then the bar at night. I got done at about 2 AM, and then headed to my friend Hayley’s house to spend the night. I had arranged to do this since I had to be back to work at 10 AM Sunday morning. I got to Hayley’s at about 3AM, and when I opened the door to her guest room I knew I was in trouble. There was no fan, no air conditioner, and certainly no breeze. So I stripped in hopes of surviving the night. 4 AM found me staring at the ceiling, lying in a pool of my own sweat, nauseous from the heat. I gave up at about 4:30 and left the apartment. At this point I was delirious with heat and exhaustion, and I sat on her front porch and started crying. I was afraid to go all the way home, since I knew I would never make it back to work. I ended up calling my mom and riding all over the area trying to find a hotel where I could sleep for a few precious hours. At 5:30 I gave up once again and headed to my restaurant. I wheeled my bike past the porters who cleaned the restaurant at night and curled up on a banquet in the back dining room. I dozed on and off, at the mercy of the workers who were banging the wine ice buckets and vacumming the stairs. At 9:30 I dragged myself to the bathroom and cleaned up, and started work at 10.

Obviously it was a difficult shift, but the light at the end of the tunnel was the 6:30 PM appointment I had that night to get my air conditioner installed. I rushed home, only to find a message from the guy who was supposed to meet me, saying that he had already been there, he was now back in the city, and he would not come back that night. My phone call to him consisted of us going around and around with me saying, “But my appointment hasn’t even started yet!” to him saying, “I know, but I was already there!” “But it’s not even 6:30 yet!!!” “I know, but I was already there!”

I resigned myself to another sleepless, sweaty night, and woke up at 8 AM when beautifully, deliciously, my air conditioner arrived. But I was off for another double. I was back at work at 10 AM, and got home and to sleep at about 3 AM. And then… this morning was my French class, so I was up at 8:30 and out the door at 9. At approximately 9:11, I swerved to avoid a van that stopped rather quickly at an intersection. I was riding down a hill, so I was rolling along fast, and I hit the ground so hard and so quickly that I could barely remember what happened. Suddenly I was lying on my side, on the hot pavement, my bike tangled between my legs.

Luckily I was wearing my helmet. I cannot imagine how bad it could’ve been had I not. I knew I was banged up, but I didn’t know how bad, and I started crawling out from under my bike. About four men had dashed over, from both the surrounding cars and sidewalk, and a cop happened to be right behind me as well. One guy picked me up from under my armpits and settled me on the ground, and I was crying and saying I was okay. For a second I didn’t know what to do, but then I remembered I had to get to class and I swung my leg over my bike, still bawling, and continued pedalling down Flatbush.

I rode for almost half an hour without assessing my wounds, but when I happened upon an ambulance somewhere on 3rd Ave in the 20’s, I knocked on the window and begged for first aid. The EMT pulled over and gave me a bandage and some tape, but said she didn’t have anything to clean it with, and promptly drove away. I was even more aware of the pain at this point, and when I found a guy watering the roses at a deli, I borrowed the hose and let the water run through my scrapes. I had literally opened my elbow, a long, deep abrasion and a good gash at the end, but not anything that would benefit from stiches. I had also gotten both knees and the top of my left thigh, were a pretty impressive raised shiner is currently keeping me from crossing my legs.

I made it to French Class, where I was immediately sent to the office. A nice French woman handed me a bottle of peroxide and a couple bandages.

I finished class, lunched with Jordi, went to my restaurant for a mandatory wine tasting, and finally trudged home. I feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck. I will admit that I’m having a particularly rough week, and that I’m a little lost as to what to do about it. No, that’s a lie. I’m completely fucking lost and don’t even know where to begin.

Posted July 4th, 2003 by Michelle

Today’s the 4th of July

Another June has gone by

and as they light up our town

I just think

What a waste of gunpowder and sky

A little homage, if you will, to the great Aimee Mann, and I will admit to hearing her song as the longest fireworks show ever hurtled across the Manhattan sky. It was almost too long. I almost got bored. And I wondered how many millions the display cost, and then wondered again how else that money could’ve been funneled into our struggling economy. Perhaps to save a firehouse? Perhaps to a soup kitchen? Perhaps into a bank account so I can save my apartment?

Ugh. I’ve become one of those leftists who see evil in everything but broccolli. And you bet your pants it better be organic.

I’m off to work a triple… There is little in the world worse than a Saturday double into Sunday morning. What is worse is an empty bank account. Somehow, though, I feel slightly euphoric. I can’t explain it. I had a lovely night with a bunch of friends and it has left me tired and content.

Posted July 4th, 2003 by Michelle

I think I’ve figured it out. Umbridge is Bush. It’s suddenly so clear to me why I had to finish the book, beyond just not being able to put it down.

If you haven’t read the latest Harry Potter, you won’t know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t finished it, do not read the fourth paragraph of this blog. It’s not a big spoiler, but it mentions something that happens near the end of the book.

Umbridge is the quintessential bad authority figure. She never leads by example, she punishes those she dislikes and rewards her favorites. And- get this- every time an existing policy thwarts her plans, she immediately signs a new one into law, a.k.a. Animal Farm or, on a more pressing note, our administration. Strange what the Senate and House allowed Bush to pass right after 9/11… laws and powers that a more rational and thinking group of people would never have considered.

Anyway, back to Professor Umbridge. She knows less than her students, punishes the kids who point it out even if inadvertently. She is mean and conniving, and sees the possibility of her own advancement as the supreme goal of her every day. I’ve never hated a character in a book more, and now I realize why. J.K. Rowling is hitting a little close to home. At the end, when Umbridge is chased away from the school with one of the ghosts spanking her with a broom, well. ‘Tis a lovely fantasy, one that may not be played out until 2008. But… someday.

Happy Dippy 4th of July, cyber-world. I hope today you will think of the over 200 Americans who have been killed in Iraq for a war based on lies. Geeze. I know I’m probably preaching to the choir on this blog, but it makes me feel better to write it.

Posted July 3rd, 2003 by Michelle

It is possible that the blog I write tonight will not be much different from the journal entries I wrote when I was 14 years old. A great deal of me has changed, but the change is largely to do with what I feel is important. It has gone from an obsession with the various men in my life to an obsession of what is wrong on a more global scale. This is certainly improvement, but really, the basic issues of my life have remained unchanged. When I was 14, my family was both with me and not really with me at all, I was involved with a group of friends with whom I always felt an outsider, and there was never one person in my life who was a constant. I latched onto various people for a month or two, they became and Insta-Best Friend and then soon they or I would disappoint and I would look back and marvel at the close time spent.

Today? Well, I’m left to wonder why I don’t have any close friends. My best friend Hayley is certainly close, and was my constant for some time, but I rebelled against it when it felt too suffocating and now she has her own constant, her boyfriend who lives with her. Once again, I have many friends at work, but none who I see often outside of work, and two friends who I considered very close not only didn’t show up as promised to my birthday party, they seem to have utterly forgotten that it, or me, every happened.

I know I am to blame for this. I, more often than not, hedge at invitations because I’m afraid of committing my time. I don’t really know why. But it alienates people, and then the 4th of July rolls around and I wonder why my phone isn’t ringing with people who want to see me. I am 31 years old and have never built the community that my brothers did when they were much younger. Not only do I not have any friends from college, I have no friends from high school or junior high or even from the three years I spent in Los Angeles just before I moved to New York. It seems that I felt like not bringing anyone along, although sometimes I think of those people fondly.

What this comes down to, all of it, is the same thing I’ve been whining about since the dawn of this blog: my life is not what I want. I keep thinking that baring these honest, hurtful, and really, embarassing truths will inspire me to create change, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I work too much, make too little money to live, cannot even afford my AEA and SAG dues so I can’t go to auditions, I alienate people, I constantly choose solitude, I have no time to write other than my blog ramblings, I somehow refuse to create a community that would support me through these issues, and sometimes I don’t even know how to take a first step in a different direction.

I do not want to join the Peace Corps if all it is is running away from the life I have that I do not want. It will not solve anything; it will only perpetuate me having to make a change here, in New York, in my American life. When I first applied, all I wanted to do was work in relief. Now I must be sure that I’m not just trying to run away.

Posted July 2nd, 2003 by Michelle

So, he’s going to get re-elected, isn’t he? I mean, it’s just going to happen, right? So what does that mean for all of us who opposed him? Are our numbers really so small, so ineffective, so useless? Why can we not organize like they can? Why can’t we make some decisions and take a stand or two?

Maybe we need to get the elixir that brainwashed everyone from Dennis Miller to the guy I met in a bar the other night who was a pro-Bush, pro-war, pro-life Republican. I thought people of my generation… well, never mind about that. There are too many right-wing student’s groups, and too much money pouring in from the GOP to support them, for me to put any faith in those younger than I.

Well. More on this later. Gotta go get a massage.

Posted July 1st, 2003 by Michelle

I’ve been in California for almost four days now, and I’ve accomplished two things: nine to ten hours of sleep a night, and a fantastic sunburn. The burn is fading, but the sleep does not get old. I was thinking about how miserable New York is, with the humidity and heat as it is, and wondering what the heat is like in Africa. Is it dry? Wet? And I know it gets cold and rainy at times… I’m already thinking about what I need to pack, and I haven’t even been officially invited. That is probably months away. But I still can’t help thinking about it.

Yesterday, Carole brought me to her garden class. This is not a class where one spends hours on their knees in dirt; quite the contrary, one walks around a particularly beautiful garden and house, and then drinks wine to finish the class. We visited a house that is almost beyond description in beauty and class, and well, in wealth. The money invested in the limestone floor in the bathroom could pay for all of my debt and more. But this woman is incredibly hard working, recently divorced, and obviously cares a great deal about her family- just like any of my own clan. She just has a gagillion dollars with which to accomplish her goals.

She also is opening a winery. I’ve thought about pursuing a job out here, perhaps long-term, or perhaps just for the harvest, and this year might be the one to do it. I’ve considered trying to find something for October and November, particularly if I leave for Africa in December. Again, I’m not banking on any of this, I’m just trying to create options for myself regardless of what this year will bring.

I’m sad to have missed Gay Pride in New York. Many of my friends are gay, and I would’ve like to celebrate with them over the weekend. Although had I been home, I would’ve worked the whole time, so better that I hang out at the pool and think simple thoughts. The great thing about being here is that it makes room in my mind to tackle whatever is next at home. For some reason, I can’t even worry about how broke I am, can’t even wonder how I’ll recover from this or any vacation financially. It is worth it, on so many levels, to be here and sleep well and clear space in my psyche. I know I have to go back and catch up in French class, and work a billion shifts, and live in ridiculous humidity, but I can also go back refreshed and ready for inspiration and change. My time here is never boring or dull, even if we don’t do that much. My time here is peaceful and recharging, and my Dad always suprises me with a few words that help me sort out my life.

I do miss my brothers, though. But we are off to San Francisco to shop for dresses for Ian and Tessa’s wedding. This should be a good time.

Posted June 27th, 2003 by Michelle

It is nearing 3 AM and a car will be here at 7 to ferry me to the airport. Am I packed? No. Do I have laundry downstairs? Yes. So what am I doing? Writing to the cyber-world like there will be no tomorrow.

This week has been strange and long. My French class is pretty great. My teacher is already not speaking in English, although it is a beginner’s course, and I seem to be the only one who understands anything. And I only catch about a fifth of what she’s saying. Work is terrible, because it is restaurant week, which means that all of the people who ordinarily might not be able to afford to attend a hoity-toity restaurant now can, since we are offering lunch for 20.03 and dinner for 30.03. However, those people are not just only paying twenty bucks for what would normally cost a hundred, they are also thanking us by leaving ten percent. I cannot bear another moment of it. I should have picked up a shift tonight rather than playing pool in the Village, but I could not bring myself to work twice as hard for half the money. It’s a little birthday present to me.

I’m off to California, where I hope to once again figure out a thing or two about my life, where I will sleep ten hours a night, where I will dive into the sweetest swimming pool imaginable. My dad called me today to sing, “It’s a hundred and one degrees!” and then four minutes later, “Hundred and two- wait- three- four!!!!” But dry. No humidity. And, you know, air conditioning, unlike me here in the dark ages in Brooklyn. I’ve actually made an appointment to rent an AC unit, which means that in the next week I need to come up with $250, cash only. It is imperative to happiness, however.

I suppose I ought to pack.

Posted June 24th, 2003 by Michelle

Started French class this morning. Got call from people who want to harvest my eggs. Had lunch with Tessa and Jordi at Grammercy Tavern. Went to work where it is restaurant week. Did 270 covers and only made $120. Because it is restaurant week i.e. hell on restaurant earth. Must… sleep… must… have… big fat birthday party… must… go to… California… must… sleeeeeeppp…

Posted June 21st, 2003 by Michelle

I don’t think I even need to mention that today was the longest day of the year, but that the sun never actually appeared, and it was dark all damn day. Summer Solstice my a… I can’t help wondering when we as New Yorkers are going to get all of the good karma that simply must be headed our way. It’s been a really rough two years, starting in September of 2001, through the wars, through the economy, and then we’ve been cursed with the worst winter EVER. The worst spring EVER. And now it’s the first day of summer and damn it, we New Yorkers deserve some sun. And I’m not talking the 90 degree mugginess that it is supposed to be by Thursday- I’m talking about a week- just one week- of sweet, breezy, mid-70’s weather that is warm in the sun but you are glad you grabbed a wee sweater when night falls. We deserve this. We deserve nothing less.

There was a front page article in the New York Times that New Yorkers are actually more depressed. There are numbers to prove it. More people are going to see analysts and psychiatrists. Me? I’m just going nuts.

And yet… and yet… the only thing that gives me pause about joining the Peace Corps, the only thing save my worrying about my family, is that I will miss my city. I became an EMT because I wanted to be an EMT in New York. Even though I don’t work on an ambulance, I work every chance I get on the people who live and visit here and who need me. I became an EMT to care for my city and once again I am leaving, and this time not just for the summer. That gives me pause… for about ten seconds. I still feel like I’m sticking my head in the sand by leaving. I have this irrational, desperate hope that when I return, the goons will have left the office and people remotely resembling humans will have signed up. But, as my brother Ian points out, the goons in this country elected the goon in office. But I would like to make a few points perfectly clear:

1)Bush is anti-choice. Bush would take away every right to choose that ever existed from every woman alive. He is going to sign into law the first national abortion restriction since Roe Vs. Wade. Even if you are wishy-washy on this issue, please realize that it is one of many basic rights that he is dissolving.

2)Bush cares exactly nothing for the natural world. Of ten examples I will cite one: this past winter he allowed the use of snowmobiles in Yellowstone National Park. Now, yes, I am a tree-hugging granola eater, but even if you hate the likes of me, please realize how lucky we are as Americans to have places like Yellowstone. If you’ve never visited, you cannot know the beauty of it. But I hope you will trust me, as someone who lived there this summer, that places like that make everything else better. Allowing snowmobiles 1) disrupts the mating habits and migrations of countless species of animals and 2) destroys wild areas. It creates unnatural trails. It scares animals. It sucks. Bush allowed this simply because he could. He felt like it. “Just cuz”.

2c) The simple use of the term “ANWR” rather than the full name- Artic National Wildlife Refuge- speaks to all the unthinking Americans who don’t care if he drills for oil in some far off place called ANWR. Perhaps if a few of those folks looked up what those letters stand for, a mind or two might be changed. But the Americans who elected him aren’t paying any attention.

3) He lies. That’s really the jist of it. He is a liar. He lied about the WMD, he lied about why he went to war, he lied and said that Saddam was behind 9/11, he lied that he gave a flying shit about anything ever. Sorry. I’m trying to be cool-headed here. But I simply don’t understand why the whatever huge percent of America that supports him doesn’t see that.

Wow. You know what I just realized? It’s not our administration that has made me lose hope. It’s the people who support it. The majority of Americans. My fellow Americans, you make me lose hope.

Posted June 20th, 2003 by Michelle

I got an email from the Peace Corps today. If I told myself, even two years ago, that I would be getting emails from the Peace Corps, well, maybe three years ago, I would have laughed out loud. I get these emails once a week or so that tell me that my application status has been updated. When I went to the website today, and logged into My Toolkit, it said that I’ve finally been mailed the medical forms. I’ll have to take these forms to my physician, my gyn, my eye doctor, and my dentist, and all of them have to complete pages and pages of paperwork all about my lil’ ol’ body. I will know more about my health when they are done than most people will know in a lifetime. Once I get all of those completed and mailed in, there really will be nothing left for me to do. It will be in the hands of the folks in the D.C. placement office, and I will wait each day for a packet or a letter to come in the mail. The packet will tell me where I’ll be going, and the letter, or email or phone call, will tell me they’ve found something wrong. Wrong how I don’t know but somehow something that would prevent me from going. I hate waiting games.

So, yeah, I, uh, went to the placement office for my French Class, and I thought I did pretty well on the test. I mean, I made some stuff up, but that’s all Sean and I ever did at Ridge High. Sean and I were in the same class, French 2, which he was taking for the second (of three) times, and when we all had to say our names, Sean announced that we were married. I really feel for that teacher. I went more often than not, barely, but Sean showed up, I think, three times, the last being the final where he curled up on the carpet of the floor and went to sleep. Granted, we weren’t sleeping that much that year, but… needless to say he failed his junior year.

Thinking back, I feel like that was so bold! I have degrees with honors, and Sean managed to squat at four colleges, and after all has been said he and I are not far from each other in our lives. In fact, I’m the one slaving away at a restaurant a billion hours a week and Sean has found a way to survive without being beholden to anyone other than those he loves.

I got my paycheck yesterday, and did a little dance for joy that it was $675. $675 measly bucks, and I need it so badly that I was happy. That little sum of money, barely half my rent, made in a forty-five hour backbreaking week, living in New York City. Times are hard for restaurant workers in this city, and my place is not immune. It’s weird to me that my birthday is next week. I know I talk a good game about Birthday Month and all, but it’s not shaping up to be much this year. Not that it should, or needs to, but I will admit that when there is not a certain person in your life who will make your birthday special, you kind of dread the day. Even when I’ve not had a man in my life, the last six years I’ve had my friend Hayley, who will be out of town this year.

I’m working with Sean today on our show, called “Rehearsal”. And really, I must stop writing this and work on that. It is to be a show about our musical lives, and it is a kick in the pants to go back and remember these stories. I’m really hoping everyone in the family will be able to get here and see it. And I’m really hoping that by the time this show goes up, I will know what I will be doing for the next two years.