Friday, September 21, 2007

SYR-NYC Commuter Flights Daily!

Are you holding anything in your hand? Could it put it down please? Okay, could you step back a little? Okay, fine. I just wanted to say that after everything I just wrote about TESOL, a job was posted TODAY at the last minute for a job in TESOL at Syracuse University. I applied. Look, I feel sick to my stomach, too. But, I have to be practical, don't I? I don't have a job. I don't have a home. I have family there. Okay, that might not be so good, but they are pretty understanding people. They know that I am not into hanging out and having sleepover parties. I can actually get out and perform some songs and get some recording done up there, too. Plus, there are lakes. In fact, my mother and brother both live on a lake up there. I could, well, would, live on a lake, too. I would try to find a different one, but...More importantly, there are commuter flights to NYC that leave several times a day and we all know that it is very, very, cherry berry important to me as I want to, need to, have to spend more time with the amazing souls that inhabit that part of the world. Oh, is that you, too? Well, aren't you special. Look, no one's offering me a job yet, but if they do...well, I will just might have to say yes and hope that I get some rocking colleagues to work with. It's possible, people. It's possible. I will say this, too - if I do get offered that job, then it was meant to be. If not, then all is well. In either case, I think I need some intense hypnosis to discover why I am so nauseous at the thought of living in Upstate NY. It would be nice to get to the core of it and then get rid of it so that I am not always in such a hurry to run off and get myself into trouble. Oh, ghod, I am rationalizing aren't I? Look what fear can do to a perfectly healthy (I am now, aren't I?) adult female!!! Just look at it...and weep.

Well, look on the bright side, I could continue to date that 70-year-old dude I met at Barnes and Noble.

Ima O. Leo

Now What's My Problem?

Well, now that I have permission to leave and I think I know where I'm going, it still leaves open a few questions about what the h-e-double hockey stick I am going to do with myself. To be honest, the friendly recommendation to stay away from TESOL for 30 days sounds pretty good to me. And the idea of staying away from 30-year-olds is an absolute MUST. In fact, a 70-year-old man got my number at the bookstore just last night. So, the 35 and up policy is in full-effect, but the TESOL issue is quite different. I am good at teaching and I am good at training teachers. It's creative and spontaneous and meaningful to me for the most part. However, it's losing its appeal. Maybe it's because I don't give a rats ass whether it's a relative clause or not or maybe it's because after teaching ESL for long periods of time, I start to talk, aloud and to myself, like a foreigner. Or maybe it's because once I got the master's degree, they all seemed to want Phd.s? I dunno'. I only know that I am not going to some superficial, shallow, dog-eating country just to make a buck again. At least not for a while.

I do have an MSW, but the thought of working with poor nutbags makes me feel very low indeed. I'm going snob!! I can only fathom tolerating rich nutbags at this point.

The bottom line is that I can't stand being indoors stuck between four walls for 40 hours a week unless it's going to be a party. My need to be creative is like my need for frozen snickers - INTENSE! I should be in advertising - finding new and creative ways to get you to eat processed shoestrings or to wear clothing made my newborn babies in Jaklazistan. I should be writing personalized songs for barmitzvahs, weddings, and divorce hearings. Maybe I can start my own advice column in a local newspaper that allows you to swear at people when needed. Wait! I can design crossword puzzles. Look! One across - the clue: "tired hiny". The answer: "dead end". Oh, I am exhausted just writing this much about it, so you can imagine how I feel after spending hours each day online trying to figure it all out. Ahhhhhh! Where's my snickers?

It's all part of the transition from here to there, but I feel like I am crossing that bridge in my underwear during a blizzard with a flying gojii berry stuck in my eye.

On a bright, yet somewhat sad, note, I made the decision to not have any more written contact with my ex for at least three months. Awwww... I know, you care...not. Yeah, and I know that I was supposed to do this three months ago, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I couldn't, I tell you!!! Ah, so, I am three months late. At least I am here...and ready. That means that when I want to contact him, I will be contacting you instead. You don't mind, do ya'? That's what friends are for, eh? Maybe Santa will bring me a nice non practicing Judeo-Christian boy, ahem, I mean, man this year for Christmakah. Let's cross our legs and hope.

I really wish I could donate all the leftover chocolate that's stuck to my candy wrappers.

BTW, thanks for all your good thoughts - I think they made a difference. I really do.

Yours,

Ima R. Ite





Thursday, September 20, 2007

Can I Go Now?

[insert arm shooting straight up into the air]
The Universal Representative: Yes, Ima.
Ima: Ummm...can I go now?
TUR: Well, I don't know. Let's see....(she checks her clipboard). Are you over Stephen?
Ima: Nope.
TUR: Duuude. It's been like three mo--
Ima: I know. I know. I am a big fat fool. Woohoo. I get it. Anyway, is that a prerequisite to being granted departure rights?
TUR: No, not really. In fact, a change of scenery would be good for you.
Ima: So? Can I go?
TUR: (checks clipboard again). Well, do you have a job?
Ima: No.
TUR: (scribbles on the clipboard).
Ima: Look, I thought getting healthy was my job.
TUR: Fair enough. But did you? Did you get healthy?
Ima: Well, I talked with the nurse just fifteen minutes ago and she said that my final lab results show that I am absolutely and completely NORMAL - uterinely speaking, of course.
TUR: So, you have a clean bill of health then?
Ima: (Beaming.) Yes, yes I do.
TUR: Happy to hear it. And now, about your mental health...
Ima: That's an ongoing project, I am afraid.
TUR: Well, nothing to be afraid of. I have faith in you. But really, you have got to let go of Cap'n Britain once and for all.
Ima: I know. I know. It's just that, well, I wanted to marry him - and that's deep!! That takes time, sister! I am talking really deep - like middle of the ocean deep. Like the opposite of ---
TUR: Okay, I get it. It's deep and you need more time. (She writes Ghod know's what - no, Ghod really does know what.)
Ima: So? Can I blow this cow town?
TUR: Oh, yeah, definitely! (Smile - Salute.) Bon Voyage!
Ima: Rock on, Rep. of the Uni.!!
TUR: (wink) Take it easy...and if it's nice take it twice! Ha ha.
Ima: Okay, yeah, that's enough now.
TUR: Yeah, you're right. Talk to you later then.
Ima: Okay, talk to you later... tonight, probably.
TUR: Yeah, alright. See you tonight then.
Ima: Okay. Later.
TUR: Later
[insert vision of Ima skipping away]

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Osashiburi mina-san/Long time no see everybody

Wow. Where was I? Running? Wanting to run? That's me. Every day, all day, all I wanted to do was run far, far away. I am, however, as indecisive as a Libran at the moment and so I haven't been able to figure out just where to go. That paralysis, as well as a few commitments here and there, has stopped me from going anywhere except to the Mall and back.

As warned, I saw Deepak - sixth row, front and center. He had red rimmed glasses and red sneakers on and the first half of his talk was riveting. He spoke of new discoveries in science and medicine that had made everyone think about everything from whole new perspective once again. Ahh, the ongoing discovery of discoveries...isn't it wonderful? Much of what he spoke of I had already read about in his Book of Secrets, but what really meant the most to me was what he said about the intelligence of the cells that we have in our bodies beyond our brains. This knowing and knowledge of things that we call "gut reactions" are full of knowledge. Although it is already known to many of us who live by following our instincts, it was extremely helpful for me to be reminded of the fact that the gut knows better than the brain as the brain can talk itself out of what the gut instinctively already knows. Right?

This reminder was helpful to me as I found myself wanting to run harder and faster at each tempting offer to stay. Here. A job offer - music connections - male companionship -unconditional love and support...why would I ever say no to any of those things? Because my gut said so. My gut reaction to the job was, "Oh ghod, I don't want to do that and I certainly don't want to live there!" There being in a college town in western, New York where the average age is 22. Twenty -
fu@#ing - two, people. I told you - I am over that noise! Then, I am being told that I can get hooked up with local musicians left and right if I stay in or near Syracuse and what happens? Instead of feeling excited and thankful, I feel sick to my stomach and start to sweat profusely. Now this sweating is quite unusual for someone who is on medication that makes her so incredibly cold that she's been sleeping under an electric blanket (situated under six regular blankets) all summer long. In fact, I was cold in the theatre until this particular conversation began. My gut was yelling, "Noooooooooooooooooooo." Why? I don't know. Ask my gut! It's the universe guiding me, people; that's all I know. I am relieved now, so I know that it was the right decision.

So, where am I going to work and live and do music? I don't know. I keep going back and forth between Connecticut and Colorado. Sperling and some other online site concluded, after the completion of a survey, that these were the best two places for me. They both had Stamford - Norwalk, CT as the number one choice and Boulder/Colorado Springs as the number two choice. Ironically, when I consulted a psychic on this upon my return to the U.S. she came up with Colorado and Seattle as being places where I would be very happy. So, you can see my dilemma.

So, does this mean I am free and clear health-wise? I dunno. See, I went to the doctor and had a biopsy (instead of the dreaded D&C) right then and there. Yeahhh!! This saved me a lot of time and money as it required no hospital stay. Also, this wonderful place of places has offered me a 60% discount on all medical care from this particular clinic until the end of October. Yeah!!!! This saved me even more money. The last thing the doctor said was, "I'd be surprised if we find anything at this point." You would think that I feel positive and happy and relieved, right? Well, being me - that isn't the case. See, they told me the same thing in Korea and the lab results showed something quite different. I am not going to believe it until I see it - or the lab technician sees it. So, off to the lab went a juicy, full cup of blood and tissue and now I am waiting for the results to come in. Hopefully, my team wins. I will know before the end of the week. I am leaving it up to the universe at this point. I have done all I can do to heal myself and more. I have gone alternative (drinking garlic tea, taking rice germ pills six times a day, visualizing...) and mainstream (taking the medication). I have worked hard to let go of the ugliness inside - most of it has been unleashed on you and behind the backs of innocent Americans, but as long as I become a healthier person in the long run, then I would have to say it's been worth it. So, now it's really up to the powers that be, and I sure hope they like me.

What this means y'all is that if I need another procedure, then I am just going to watch a lot of movies and read a lot of books and pretend that I live in a bubble. It's for your own safety, really. If, however, I am healthy and ready to move on, then I am most in need of dealing with the fact that I have to decide where to go. So, the votes are out - CT or CO? Connecticut has a million pros to it - the ocean, proximity to NYC and old friends, affluence, and an East Coast mentality. Colorado's pros are that it has dry summers, it's far from home, it's stunningly beautiful and I think of it as being quite spiritual. There really isn't a bad choice here. There is just a choice that has to be made...that's the problem. I am trying really hard not to consult a psychic on this one as the last three all said - oh, wait, did I just admit that I talked with three of them? Well, I did. Deal with it.

Now, I know that some of you are concerned about my mental health and think that maybe I should stay away from psychics and dating men, for their sake as well as mine, but you have to remember that I didn't date men, I dated boys. And herein lay the lessons I had to learn. I have, over the years, given my heart to males who were emotionally and psychologically still boys and then demanded that they act and love like grown up men. In my attempts to make that happen, I have chosen and reacted like a girl instead of acting like a woman. The results have been nuclear!! Thankfully, through this last attempt at the same impossible feat, it has come to my attention that it is time for me to stop blaming these boys and to take responsibility for my choices and be honest about the reasons for those choices. As a result, I have promised to behave like a grown up and only date men from now on. I think this will make a huuuuuge difference - you'll see. And let's face it, there is no where to go but up... or Connecticut, or Colorado.

OOOOOh, which way to I go? Which way do I go? Isn't the universe supposed to send me a message and guide me somewhere? Hullooooo!! Over here!!! That's right - me - the girl with the healthy, happy uterus...standing by the cow. Yeah, it's a cow. I don't know. It was just standing here tied to the tree. No, I don't know how to milk a cow. Look, are you going to help me or what?

I have some fudge to eat, so I have to go 'cuz I said I'd share it with my aunt, but what I meant was that she could have a little piece of the corner of it and I hear her heading for the kitchen.

Ima L. Durr

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Running Away

I thinks it's time to go. People are starting to talk to me around the neighborhood. At first, when I would go for my run, everyone would just ignore me - I was, after all, exercising. Then, they started to stare - not because exercising was foreign to them; they'd seen it on TV before - but because I was becoming a regular sight and they thought they should know me. Although they didn't know whence I came, it was obvious that I wasn't going away, so they began to wave. Now they wave to me from their front porches, their sit down lawnmowers, and their automobiles. As part of what appeared to be a natural progression, they added the greeting. Even children say "hello" to me as I pass by. The age range of official greeters now spans from about age seven to 80-something. Now this is all fine and good. Really. It is. But, unfortunately, they have recently begun to overstep their boundaries and moved beyond greetings to actually conversing with me. Their curiosity has gotten the best of them, I'm afraid. And so, the questions have started -some quite innocent, others more probing. How much do you run? Where do you live? What's your name? What do you think about gun control? While I understand that this is all part of my initiation into the neighborhood and a very sensible part of the neighborhood watch program, I don't want to talk to them. As far as I am concerned, they already know way too much and it's time to move on.

In order to really move on with my life, however, I thought it important to address a little known emotion called ANGER. I don't want anger to hurt me, my uti, or those I love, so I bought a book called The Anger Diet. I started reading it this morning, and I am sorry to say that it doesn't offer one recipe for maintaining anger. It has, instead, made me feel quite guilty about calling Wal*Mart shoppers "mutants", saying that Upstate men look pregnant, and just about everything else I have written on this blog so far. Jeesh. So, now I have to run out and find a book called The Guilt Diet. Like I am made of money, people. Besides, isn't it everything in moderation? What is it that you are supposed to have each day to keep the doctor away? Isn't it an angry outburst? I still have a lot to read yet, so, hopefully, the answer will be forthcoming. Or maybe I can ask Deepak about this tomorrow night when I follow him into the men's bathroom.

Until then, I will continue to be imperfectly and honestly a little angry.

Always thinking of you,

Ima E. Resistible

Snow White Commits Hairy-Scary

You know, the more I thought about how distraught I was in Korea, the more I realized that poor Stephen - my ex - did the best he could. I mean, he fell in love with Snow White and ended up with the Tasmanian Devil. I am sure it was something not unlike dating Dr. Jekyll and Dr. Hyde by the end. But who was whom and when? One minute I looked at him with love and the next minute I was trying to eat him. It must have been confusing! What resources did he have to deal with something like that? He hadn't been a trainer of wild animals...or a woman, so how could he have known what was happening or how to deal with it? At this point in the process, he is absolved from any wrongdoing. Ahhh....forgiven. It feels so good. I mean, let's face it, he did what any sane person would have done - he kicked me to the curb. Yeah, of course it still hurts, but, in all reality, it wasn't what he signed on for. He didn't want to date the Taz anymore and Snow White was just buried somewhere under all that hair with no depilator or epilator in sight. There was no more joking and singing in the forest with birds and squirrels flitting about...now there were sharp teeth and hair balls to deal with. I am guessing that's not hot. And if he had fallen in love with that, then it probably wouldn't have lasted anyways because that's not the person I have chosen, and worked so hard, to become. So, all in all, no matter how many ways you slice it, it's still the same hunk of cheese, and I'm still lactose intolerant.

Humbly yours,

Ima V. Nekk

Friday, September 7, 2007

Bifocals and Body Hair

Oh my ghod, people! As if depression and self-pity weren't enough to deal with, I just came back from the eye doctor's. All I wanted was a new pair of glasses so that I wouldn't run over any deer or people at night (the former because it would make me sad and the latter because it could hurt my car). Instead, I get told, "Well, at 40- you're 40? -oh, wow, well, at 40, people start to need bifocals, so...." AHEM! WHAT? WHO? ME? AGE IS JUST A NUMBER, ISN'T IT? I mean, that's what Jill Dahne 'the love psychic' told me...that's the only reason I was going through the Demi Moore dating process to begin with. Okay, well, that, and the fact that I'd been emotionally stunted. But, age isn't just a number, is it JILL? I mean, at 40, people start to need bbbbb...bi....ffff.....ocals. Bi-friggin'-focals. I covered my ears (I really did), but it didn't stop them from writing it down. Putting it in print - on paper - for all to see. Worse yet, for ME to see. What am I supposed to do? I can't get in to see a therapist now - not on a Friday - not on such short notice. I am not ready. I am not ready to age. This has to be on par with the day that Samantha found her first gray public hair on Sex in the City. Of course, you can only find that if you have pubic hair to begin with. Which brings me to my next topic.

Hair. Body hair. What is the problem, people? Why are we so opposed to hair? We are born with hair on our bodies - there is nothing dirty or wrong with it as long as you keep it clean. Both men and women are born with hair on their bodies, so what is the problem? I mean, men can't have beards without people thinking they are pedophiles and women can't have beards without people thinking they're freaks or lesbians. Hell, women can't have hair anywhere except for their heads without people thinking the same thing. And what is that? Hair on the head is imperative for men and women, but hair anywhere else for women is a no-no and on certain other areas like the back or the face is often looked down upon on men. And what about our asses? Can't we have hair there, either? Why not? Damn it all, people, I actually have better things to do with my time than spend it removing hair from my body - hair that doesn't hurt anyone - not me - and not you. Is it the 'monkey-human' connection that bothers everyone so much? Because, I know I am not a monkey. And if you don't, then you need help. My aunt once said that she had to shave her legs and armpits because she didn't want to be a man. Now, forgive me if I am wrong, but I thought that having a penis - not body hair-made you a man. And even then, let's face it, you still need certain hormones and brain chemicals to make you feel like a man - or a woman. But, I don't think anywhere down the line has body hair had anything to do with someone being male or female.

It's natural and most people are born with it-male or female, homosexual or heterosexual, transgendered or not - period. I am sure there is a condition where some are born without body hair - but even then, that is probably a problem for some of you hair-obsessed types. I just want to know WHO decided one day who and where we should or should not have hair!!! Are these the same people that tell us what jeans to buy and what shirts are "in"? Because I am pretty sure that there are people being raped and tortured and starving to death right now that would appreciate it if you could spend a little more time thinking about helping them rather than wasting your time worrying about what you should or should not have on your body. And what I need to have on my body right now is a pair of bifocals. So, I have to get my hairy ass back up to the eye glasses center and pick a pair out.

But before I go, let me say that I truly believe that you should have hair wherever you want to have it and if you don't want to have it, you should be allowed to remove it by any means possible, be that threading, waxing, shaving, plucking, or sawing. I just want everyone to really think about how unimportant it really is and accept each other with or without body hair - wherever that may be. Look, I have accidentally shaved off parts of my eyebrows before and my little sister once shaved off all of her left eyebrow...it happens. But is it really that important? Did it change us as people? No. It didn't. With or without eyebrows we were still the same people with the same morals and values and a love for real ginger ale (the kind with ginger root in it). So, let's just stop caring one way or the other, shall we?

p.s. Did I ever tell you about the dream I had where I had a goatee? I looked really good. It brought out my eyes!!

Until later comes sooner,

Ima I. Glass

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Myterus Uterus

I was debating on whether to post this or not, but I have to. It’s real. It’s where I am at right now. It’s about hormones, depression, and my uterus, so you may not want to read any further. If you are male, however, you might find it informative. Most of us are older now and have learned a lot about our bodies and those of the people we love, so maybe this is old and useless, like my tail, but I think it needs to be said.

First of all, it is no mystery that I was very unhappy in Korea. But I want to explain a further. So, here goes. To start, you have to know severe depression. If you don’t, then let me tell you that you have no control over it. Anyone who says that you do has not experienced severe depression before. You are not your usual self. You don’t think like your usual self, you don’t feel like your usual self, you don’t emote like your usual self, you don’t even move or sit like your usual self. And spiritually? Yeah, right!! That’s the depression I am talking about. If it lasts too long or it gets too weird, then you start to forget ever feeling any differently and you start to believe with all your heart that you will never feel any differently again. That leads you to completely giving up – and for some, suicide. If you haven’t experienced that, then you have not experienced the kind of depression I am talking about. It hurts and it kills your self-esteem, your sense of safety, and any hope for the future is gone. You are dead and, if you aren’t dead, you are suffering. It's the kind of illness where trite comments like, "Thirty minutes of exercise will make you feel better," "Think positively," "Just smile," or "Man it out," offend you so deeply that you consider, for the first time in your life, committing a double homicide just for the fun of it. Do you people really think that we are trying NOT to think positively, NOT exercising, NOT trying to push the sides of our mouths up into a smile, and that we aren't trying desperately to man the f&%$ing thing out? Really? Do you really think so? Because if you do, let me show my new set of Ginsu steak knives!

And why does the body torture itself so? I don’t know, people. Sigh. Google it, skim the million and one articles on it and then get back to me, could you?

But for women like me, we often wake up one morning and our hormones seem to be fluctuating. As a result, we are tense to the point of pain – a tenseness that cannot be alleviated, not even by professionals. We wake up, yet we are half asleep and can’t seem to shake it. We can’t think straight. We wake up and the entire world is wrong. Everything is wrong and, for me, disgustingly so. We feel disgusted with our bodies, our partners, our neighbors, our pets; I will even go so far as to say we are bloated, achy, and greasy. This isn’t sexy, people. I know that! But believe me, no one wants to wake up and feel like this. No one wants to spend the day scowling at people and crying every time they see the color green. But, tell my hormones this. Tell them that I am not this person. Tell them that I refuse to be treated this way. They won’t listen! Believe me, I have tried. So far I am just talking about some of the symptoms of PMS, or just stress, that I and lots of other women – although not all women, I’m sure– have experienced throughout their lives on a regular basis.

Now imagine having those symptoms for several months with no relief… and then, after about a year, throw in having self-flagellating obsessive compulsive thoughts that keep you up most of the night every night just to prolong and intensify the torture you are already enduring. Now, just for kicks, let's also throw in regular migraine headaches, complete physical exhaustion, occasional stomach pain that causes you to double over on the floor and pray to Ghod for help, extreme coldness, constant cramping, a job from hell, a pathetic dorm room for a home, and a boyfriend (and supposed best friend) that just wants to spend less and less time with you because you are, well, let’s face it, becoming more and more of a drag. Oh, now put yourself in a foreign country - in a noisy, polluted city where you can’t communicate with the people around you and all the ex-pats are freaks, geeks, and/or alcoholics. Now, tell me how much joy you could squeeze out of each day? How much happy juice could you make? Needless to say, I was very sick. Very, very sick. I lost control of my emotions and my thoughts and I had no resources to help me deal with the stress of my jobs, my living situation, and being in Seoul by myself. My boyfriend, you ask? Oh, he lived forty minutes away by subway where he could spend time with friends every day and work a very simple job at a Hogwan – no graduate degree required. He was fine, so what was my problem? When I couldn’t get out of bed for a week, he sent me to the doctor – he didn’t offer to go with me. When I was crying because I hated living alone and where I lived, he told me he didn’t want me to live with him and “spread the misery”. When I said that I couldn’t drink anymore because it was making me worse, he would make me drinks at home or want to go to a pub before dinner. I never felt more betrayed and alone in my life than I did in Korea. Now that’s depressing in the regular sense of the word!

In all fairness, I was out of my mind and my entire body was betraying me and those I loved. There were other symptoms that I won’t go into for your sake. Trust me on this, though, I was a mess. I was severely hormonally imbalanced. Why didn’t I just take anti-depressants, you ask? I did. It didn’t help. I was too far gone. I was the girl who ended up sitting on the floor in front of a bunch of naked Korean women crying for hours by myself while my boyfriend enjoyed his saunas without a care in the world – except for maybe how he was going to cut his losses. Do I sound angry? Well, I know he didn’t have the resources to handle this – neither did I. But he didn’t have to tell me that he was committed to me and then take the easy way out. He didn’t have to tell me we could leave Korea and move to Chile together and then back down from it. He didn’t have to tell me he would come to NY with me and then dump me a couple weeks later. It was impossible not to notice that there was something seriously wrong with me – yet, he just looked the other way until I got angrier and angrier which just gave him an excuse to run away. The message I was left with was: I wasn’t worth it. And that hurt. Mostly because I am worth it and I am more than the sickness that I endured during my time in Korea. It’s not fair. So they say. And yet, I was able to see clearly just how committed and capable this person really wasn’t, after all. So, in the long run, it will have saved me from many more months or years of heartache. And for that, I am deeply grateful. Besides, before I got super sick and needed surgery, we had a lot of fun together. Fun, fun, fun. And isn't that what true love is all about?

So now, I am on medication that, up until a couple of weeks ago, made me feel great. My hormones were finally balanced and I was myself again – although still very hurt and angry and dealing with a cancer scare, I was real again. Now, however, there is a new imbalance created by the medication and the side effects are kicking in. Enter the symptoms I mentioned in earlier paragraphs that described the joys of womanhood. Next week, however, I get to see my doctor again and I will find out how soon I can get off this medication and what needs to be done with my uterus. Now, I don’t know why, but I’d like to keep it. I don’t mean in a jar, but in my body. I know that I don’t need it in the traditional sense, but there are alternative uses for things, people. I mean, look at a large coffee mug – yes, it was designed to hold coffee. Fine, but it can also be used for potting a small plant. Now, I am not saying that I want to fill my uterus with dirt and seedlings, but there may be other uses for it that I am just not aware of. All I am saying is that you never know. Besides, my doctor said that it was rather small, so if I really did need it removed, a pair of pliers, a quick trip to Mexico, and a bottle of mescal should do the trick.

And Deepak Chopra is coming to town – to Syracuse. I am going. I don’t expect any profound changes to occur in my aura or anything, but I am curious to see him in person. The last book of his that I read, okay, the only book of his that I read, had some interesting ideas in it - some of which were totally worthless to me, some of which depressed me further, and others which were useful. So, as not to depress any of us further, let me tell you the useful information I gathered. It is a cute little exercise that can help you get out of your emotional rut at any time. See, you let yourself feel the emotion, let’s say it’s rage (just for fun), you then imagine that this rage gets bigger and bigger until the entire world and beyond feels it with you. Birds, bees, Gods, trees, whatever… they all feel your rage with you. Now this should make you feel less alone, possibly rather silly, and/or at least get you to lighten up a bit. I did it when I was missing British boy, terribly. I would sit and say aloud, “I miss S--,” and cry. Then I would imagine all the people around me – known and unknown to me - crying that they too missed S— as well. Then the birds in the tress would cry and say it…etc…on up to the mythical gods and goddesses of ancient Greece and Rome. Everyone was upset along with me and missed S--. It was so comical that I couldn’t help but laugh. I found this exercise to be quite worth the price of the book alone. Try it – you might like it :). If not, don’t tell me about it, tell Deepak – he’ll be here on Monday night.

No more talk of hormones, uteri, and depression, okay? You can open your eyes now. It's over.

Besides, I have to go and get another massage. I can't help it people!!!

Ima N. Payne - for reals!!
xxoo

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Who Cuts Your Hair?

Why do I ask about your hair? Because I had to go to Wal*Mart tonight to get my prescription filled and it was - oh, how can I say this politely - somewhat of a mutant fest. And the hair cuts???? It looked like the same kid's mom cut everyone's hair on the same night in the same crack house. Now, I am not sure if it's local, statewide, national, international, universal, or what, but I was scared, people. I tried not to look, but then I ran into things.

Speaking of hair cuts, my mom used to cut my hair. She was always cutting my bangs too short because she would cut and then say, "Oh, they aren't even," and then cut some more. Then, "Oh, now they aren't even on the other side, " and cut some more. Then we'd move on to , "Whoops. Almost, " and then she'd cut some more. This went on until the bangs were just about gone. It lasted years, too, mind you. I didn't even know there was a place you could go to get your hair cut professionally. I really didn't. I didn't even get to a hair salon until high school when my mother didn't really have time to cut my hair anymore. When I learned that other kids had been going to them for years and getting cool haircuts while I went through life unintentionally bangless (or "fringeless" for our European readers), I felt cheated. It made me wonder what else I had been denied all those years. Hmmm...what else was I denied all those years? Let me start a list and get back to you.

I have to admit I am trying to write this and watch TV at the same time. Don't be insulted. If anything, it should be the TV that's insulted. I am exhausted and ready for bed, but I am writing to you because I miss you. I am also doing this during my favorite show!! That's right. It was between you and them - them being Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. You were running a close second. I mean, I can't give up my time with the boys just like that. It's not that easy. I mean, these guys have been here for me every day, letting me know what's going on in the world and making me laugh and nod approvingly. In fact, I would have to say that they really have been the biggest help to me during this time of transition and healing in my life. You guys are nice and all, but where are you at night when I eat my organic salad and flourless bread? Yeah, that's right. You are with your partners and/or your kids, pets, clients, blowup companions (you know who you are!), or AA buddies...but you aren't here, are you? You aren't here wiping the tears from my eyes, are you? No. You aren't. Jon is. And when I am thinking that all my dreams are just nightmares and that the present isn't much of a present anymore, you aren't here to make me laugh at the insignificance of my problems or the mere cheesiness of my words, are you? No. You aren't. It's Stephen Colbert that's doing that - reminding me that he is the center of the universe, not me. And I love him for it!

Oh, lookie, it's a commercial for male enhancement products. Ghoddammit, people. I am so sick of this obsession with male enhancement products. Is that really what this country is all about now? Bigger penises and larger breasts? Is this really where we are at? Is this what love is all about now? Yeah, I understand that if you are a guy and you have a small penile projection you may feel that having a larger one is better for your partner and more satisfying and that's nice. Who am I to deny you the extra millimeter? I want what's best for you; I really do. I am just sick of the advertisements focusing so much on it these days. It just reminds me of how primitive we still are - focusing so much of ourselves on sex - on the physical realm. Why don't we care more about intellectual and emotional enhancement? That's sexy. I mean, you could have a huge penis, but if you are dumb and/or emotionally retarded, you aren't hot. Plain and simple. But, seriously, if they work for you and they make you and your loved one more satisfied, then more power to you. I just hope you also try to think for yourself and work on your ability to connect emotionally, too. I think it's really important if you want to satisfy a woman - unless she's dumb and/or emotionally retarded, in which case, nevermind.

I will close with a comment about my Disneyesque jog this evening where I felt a lot like Snow White in sneakers and sweat pants. Where I am stationed - not far from my very real $50.00 a month shed, btw - there are a lot of creatures - opposums (don't forget that the second "p" is silent), woodchucks, squirrels, chipmunks, deer, birds from hell (except the heavenly humming birds), and all sorts of flying insects. And for some reason, they were all out this evening. I passed a family of deer, which I thought were lawn orniments until I realized that their eyes really were following me. A squirrel cut in front of me and then stayed about one foot ahead for an entire block, so it looked like I was chasing him. And squirrels don't run in a straight line, right? So, his little butt was going left and then right and then left again and it looked like he was playing soccer (or "football" for our European friends). And the gnats! Wow. They ruled the skies this evening. Did you ever notice how they look and taste a lot like flying gojii berries? Oh, you did? Nevermind then. And then, the cutest thing of all was that a humming bird flew next to me as I jogged. I felt a little strange. I mean, he was violating my space, you know? I didn't say anything at first, but then, after a while, I got kind of freaked out and said, "Ummm....can I help you?" ( I hope no one was watching me). Then he flew away. He was perdy. He was my friend. All the creatures of Big Flats are my friends. Well, not all of them. Not the ones that shop at Wal*Mart.

Hoo boy, with all that said and nothing said at all, I am off to bed.

I leave you with thoughts of all my leftover organic vegetarian refried beans (and jalepeno ranch dressing)...

Yours,

Ima C. Clampp