MERRY MERRY BLAH BLAH

You know why I love Boxing Day? (that’s the day after xmas for all you yanks…) Because it means Christmas is over and we don’t have to listen to anymore crap Christmas music. I mean really. How can people stand to listen to those same fucking songs over and over and over, year after year?… they’re not even that good of songs. Silent night my ass, not with all those jingle bells rocking round the Christmas trees decking the halls and jamming pigeons up pear trees.

Fuckin hell.

Christmas really is such a production in the states, and my family is no exception. My mother is a bit of a Martha Stewart, and so every year there are perfectly little wrapped jems under a perfectly decorated tree while some sweet little cider kind of beverage cooks on the stove and makes the whole house smell delicious and safe and there are candles in the windows protecting us from the outside and all we do is cook and eat and be lazy.

It’s pretty fucking awesome, but as with everything in my family and in this country, there are a million expectations and responsibilities and expectations. Yesterday everyone went sledding and when I opted to stay home for a precious few minutes of quite time you would have thought I told them I wasn’t coming home for xmas or something.

“What do you MEAN your not coming!!!! You HAVE to come!!!”

Actually, no. I don’t.

I just needed a little down time. A little time without food, or cooking or cleaning or talking about what we are going to cook, clean or eat. (As I write this now, everyone is down stairs eating AGAIN. I don’t think I can EVER eat again. Fucking a. TOO MUCH.)

Re-entering the states at this time of the year is just, a lot. These people are fucking crazy. Americans are nuts. Wound so tight, so predictable so exhausting. And the gluttony is especially apparent and overwhelming this time of year.

I’ve been crying more than usual. And the usual is sort of never for me. I’m not a big crier. But I have wept like a baby a few times since coming home. It’s the strangest thing. I just get so overwhelmed. It’s not rocket science why… call it sadness about not being in Rome, call it sadness abut having had the dream of living in Italy for so long and being home so quickly after that began, call it being simply TIRED, call it being bored at home, call it searching in a REAL way for the first time in my life, call it not being alone after spending a year alone virtually each and every day, call it being 30… call it whatever you want.

The simple truth is I can’t do the things like I did before I left. I am different. And when I try and pretend I’m not, I freak out and have to lock myself in a bathroom or a closet or someshit and have a good long hard hard cry.

It’s a new thing for me. I’m not a huge fan of the new weepy chase. But what the fuck. At least I’m listening to myself, rather than trudging on, turning it into stress and needing a massage that I never get. Fuck that.

I pretty much always try to remain present in any given circumstance- you know show up, be present. But sometimes I just need to crawl up to my bed room with my cats and pound away on my computer for a while. Because even though I’m here, in this house, in Colorado, with my family right now. But in my heart, I am a million trillion miles away… in a little secret garden with my cats, and the sun, where it is quiet, still and I don’t need to cry.

FUCKIN A

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TWELVE FOURTEEN OH FIVE?

Is it really the 14th of December? Jesus Christ it’s been a long time since I wrote… I mean I guess it’s only 8 days but that’s a lot for me… fuck man. LA. Being back here- fuck, I’ve slipped right back to where I was before I left and sometimes it feels like my time in Rome, my life there, and that whole experience didn’t even exist….

It’s fucking weird.

I think the jet lag is finally wearing off. I was in a state of exhaustion for about 2 weeks- seriously fucking tired.

I did the museum thing… what a relief to get that over with. I got 47 volunteers. I have no idea how I did it- working and being all jet lagged and weird… but I did it and the evening went great and blah blah blah…. I just felt like I could finally relax once it was over. That week building up to it was just brutal.

I hadn’t been back in the country for a week and there I was making upwards of 50 phone calls in a day- balancing budgets, multi tasking, going out with friends at night, Basketball games, dinner parties… I mean it was like my life here in LA was on hold, just waiting for me… and all I had to do was show up and it would just start again…

Like my life was a part in a play that some understudy had been performing for me for the last year… and now I am back, and while it was a little strange at first, automatic pilot took over – and I am here. Playing this part, being this person… doing this job, being this daughter, and this sister, and this friend…

And it’s nice and comfortable and all of that- I mean Jesus, I can’t tell you nice it is to HAVE THIS. HERE. STILL.

But.

But I don’t know… feels kinda tired, and I feel kinda like this is just a means to an end. Come here, make money, move on.

I was talking to an old friend who (after telling me I looked simply exhausted) was hoping I would take care of myself in the next few weeks and that I would remember all the things I had learned and the ways I had changed and that I wouldn’t just let myself slip back into my old ways…

And I was trying to explain to her, that while I would love to have time for myself and have the nice relaxing pace I’ve had for the last year… I don’t know how to do that here-

How am I not going to go to dinner with Mimi and Damaris next Monday? How am I not going to go to Harry’s birthday party cuz I have to get up at 5am? (Oh wait I did that last night and have felt guilty all day. And MORE than guilty, I feel like I missed something…) because I WANT to go to Harry’s birthday, and I WANT to go to the Clipper games with Max, and to Thursday night to watch Lost on Tivo with my friends… I mean who wouldn’t?

It’s fun to have a social life… it’s just fucking exhausting.

Anyway.

I am home and I am fucking KNEE DEEP IN THE HOOPLA. Looking so forward to Christmas- cant wait to go to Colorado and get the fuck out of LA again.. taking my cats (my poor cats… they are so cool, so tough, so awesome… what a team we 3…). I think I am excited for Colorado because it is comfortable and familiar but I don’t have adult patterns there, and I can’t wait to have a little nature in my life, and finally- I just can’t wait to kiss those two little boys. I just can’t fucking wait.

So for now I am at work, making some stupid insurance commercial. Sitting on an apple box, in the sun, on a back lot in LA, surrounded by fake houses, watching my life go by.

Because that’s what I do in LA.

BACK IN BLACK

Holy shit I live in America again.

It’s kinda hard to know where to begin. I guess where I left off.

SAYING GOODBYE:
I only cried twice. Once when I sold my Vespa. I don’t know… Luigi was so good to me- he was my man, we never crashed, he never broke down on me, he was such a pal and he was so so baby blue. I actually cried. Then I cried the next morning when I put the cats in the elevator with some strange Italian man who shuttled them away and I freaked out. Luckily I took drugs and calmed down. Thank god for drugs.
TRAVELING
Flying for that long blows. Period. 10 hour flights just sucks. I mean, I doped up when I dropped the cats off, and that made me sleep for a while. But 10 hours. You wake up, you know? Luckily I had no one sitting next to me on either leg… so that was kinda sweet.
NEW JERSEY
Spent the night in Jersey at Aunt Lois’s house. TJ, Joe, Lois and Bryan. Love them. The real highlight was Emily and her amazingly beautiful daughter Sabine, came out for dinner and had a visit. That was pretty great. She looks amazing… and that little girl- holy shit. Gorgeous. The cats were fucking fine there… I mean like “what up we’re worldly cats… gimme a new house I don’t EVEN care.” It was bizarre.
ARRIVING
I was tired… obviously. In fact everyone was. The family was working so we ordered take out and kinda just starred at each other. I woke up at like 6 am on sat morning and thought fuck it and so I unpacked. Got mostly settled, made a run to my storage. Tried to take a nap- totally didn’t. I was feeling pretty fucking weird.
CULTURE SHOCK IN SAV-ON
I don’t think I’ve ever had culture shock before. Not like, real culture shock. But I pretty much lost my mind in Sav-on. It was the tomato soup. I’ve been craving tomato soup with a white bread and Velveeta grilled cheese sandwich for fucking ages… (gross I know, but you miss the strangest things when your gone for long enough) and there it was- right there- in Sav-on… in the food aisle. And there was just everything- food, detergent, stockings, cotton balls, convenience, check lines… it was all of it, AMERICA right fucking at my finger tips… it was so intense… I never felt like that before. Shortly there after I totally lost it and cried my eyes out for as long as I could..
THE PARTY
There wasn’t much time for crying or shock because in about 2 hours I was to arrive at a party for my 30th birthday that Carter threw me with about 300 people. It was truly awesome. I mean, it was just so much fun. It was strange at first, so I started in on the champagne. I got pretty drunk. Which is not surprising considering the amount I drank over the 8 hours in which I was at the party drinking- and considering the jet lag and the shock and exhaustion… actually I think I did pretty good. Except that I don’t remember anything- as I look back now- the entire thing was such a blur I basically can’t remember a second of it. I mean- sure I remember it… but not really- not really at all. (in fact I seem to remember the drunk bits clearer than the NOT DRUNK BITS…) It’s so weird. One thing I absolutely remember is that at about 4:30 in the morning a gorilla suit appeared and I put that fucker on and rode a bicycle a full lap around the book store. It was a definite highlight. Seriously- it was so much.. I had a fucking blast. But I was in such culture shock at that time it’s all like a dream to me now.
VICKI
There’s a reason she’s my best friend. She flew all the way out from NYC for my party. What a girl.
THE JOB
SO then I started working today. 12 days. In a row. Oh my god. Here we go. (we’re building a house so we can blow it up…it’s gonna be awesome but what a waste- fucking Hollywood)
INCOGNITO
And then there is the whole reason I came home early- an art show I am coordinating. I need 50 volunteers by Saturday night. I have 35. Fuck man. This is all a lot.


I have this theory that we don’t bite off more than we can chew… like we can always pull shit off if we make ourselves. But I just… I just don’t think I want to anymore.

I’m not as good as multi tasking. Or maybe I’ll get better at it… but I had to hang up with Damaris tonight because it was quite simply too hard for me to talk on the phone and work at the same time… that’s like, pathetic for me.

So even though I may be back on the playground… it might take a minute to be in full swing again. But luckily I got plenty of people around to give me a push…