Storm-blocked and other-wise blocked (and masochism - a dish best rejected)

I've been blocked by this storm. Well ... not really the storm - but the circumstances around the storm and before the storm and Lord knows what else.
Part of it is my foot - feet. I've got a three week old broken toe on my left foot - and a one week old sprained ankle on my right foot. Both healing well, but making me less spry than usual.
And then there was this Hurricane Sandy/Weather Event/Frankenstorm - that snatched my city (and other cities & towns too) bald-headed then twirled it high and let it fly - to land willy-nilly whichever-way, where it twitches still, in a cold, damp, hungry, limited subways/gasoline/potable water/electrical power/ heap.
Sure. Lots of us never lost power - or we have that power back now. And lots of us had no damage or little damage. Most of us even. But the number of people not so lucky - the areas where damage roamed free, King Kong, Zeus and Aqua Man on a bender - they got slammed. Really, really bad. Fires. Nearly all of Breezy Point burned to the ground. The Rockaways, Staten Island, lower Manhattan, pretty much all coastal and low-lying areas devastated. Countless homes and businesses flooded. And when that water recedes, things aren't just dried out good as new - things are moldy, fetid, ruined. There'll be poison in the air, from the mold, from sewage. It's getting cold too. No heat - no electric - little or no gas. Awful enough if you're a plain ol' healthy person - as in, you don't need a walker, wheelchair, cane, oxygen tank, special medicines - but if you do need any of that, coupled with this? Worse. Way worse. And how about if you have little kids? Also worse. How about little kids with special needs? More and More Awful and Worse.
I have none of those problems. I'm not in an area that was hit. I've got food. Electric. Cable/Internet. Heat. And time. Because all my work for the week cancelled. Tons of time. Buckets of time. Something I've been begging for forever. "Oh if only I had time to really write more! I would do X-Y-Z if I had time. I WOULD!"
OH my god - excuse me, please, while I climb over this moldering pile of masochistic shame to reach the keyboard of my computer so I can type this confession ... (straining, r e a c h i n g through the gloopy goo ... OK ... here goes) - I HAVE NOT USED MY TIME WELL.
OH MY GOD - I am such an asshole, a loser, a faker, an asshole time-wasting-loser wretched waster.  Jesus. I disgust me.
There. Drink it in.
Feel better Carol? To finally "tell the truth"?
No. Turns out I don't.
Turns out the masochism - which I just gave in to, is no more pleasurable than being yelled at, peed on, or hit. (I've never thought any of that sounded too swell - don't want to ruin it for you though - if that's your deal. I don't like tripe or chicken gizzards either - but don't let that stop you from chowing down) -- so anyway -- all this to say ....
Over the past couple of days, I'd sit down to write, and nothing - but nothing - would emerge. And then I'd hop on the Facebook - the NY Times - Salon - and read stuff, cross reference, post something, answer another post - read something else, and so on. (not that I've never done that before, but I can usually pull myself out of it -- not this week though) And I'm trying to sort out why. Here with you. If you're here. If not - well then just by myself.
There's reasons deep dark and complex for why I don't always do what I ought - want - and apparently also don't want - to do. Or - more accurately - why do I sometimes go towards the masochism. Why don't I do everything I can to give myself an abundant life? I'm picking my way through all that with my analyst. (yes - me on a couch - her in a chair - twice a week) - so I won't go into the whole long "fear of success" "don't want to fully separate from my family" "If I'm successful by accident - e.g. 'discovered' - then it's not my fault and they won't try to kill me" stuff. (seriously - it's all that - and more - I kid you not - don't judge - I'm rubber and you? Are glue) --
But instead - I'll just say this. I underestimated the impact. The impact of this event, even if it had little or no direct impact, on me.
Yes. Like 9/11. It's similar. That also shook us to the core, and showed how quickly all we hold dear can be decimated. But of course it's also not similar - in that it's less contained, more sprawling - and has no human face(s) to pin it on. No one to curse. No one to hate.
But the relentless unfolding of new jarring stories? That's similar. The readjusting and readjusting as you - I - and we - try to wrap our brains around how long this is going to take to heal. That's similar,

"The NY Marathon will go on as planned." said Mayor Bloomberg. His points about our needing the money etc. weren't without merit, but in a few hours time New Yorkers slammed their fists down on all available tables not under water. "NO!!!!"
And the mayor changed his mind. He never changes his mind. But this time we made him. There's just too many people suffering for us to enjoy standing on the corner cheering. And the only race we need to run right now is the race to fix all that is fixable. Pronto.
Anyway - back to me - (as if I ever left)
I'm struggling to pull myself out of a deep - sticky damned "where the hell is my career?" rut, that I've been in for a long, loooong time. And I thought - with this storm and everything screeching to a halt - that it would be the perfect time to "really get something done".
But it wasn't so easy. People have died. Children have died. Lives are scrambled and smashed. And it reverberated in my apartment. And no matter how "centered" and "separate" and "together" I think I am. I'm not.
What I am though is lucky. I'm lucky that all I have to do to "fix" this is give myself a shake. And write this little potentially self-involved "woe-is-me, why-can't-I get-outta-this-hole" essay. Because I needed to shed some "brain debris". Which like all debris, needed to be cleared out of the way. And now it is.
Toes and ankles heal. Power comes back on. People go back to work. Good things happen everyday. Bad things happen every day too. And masochism is some sticky shit. Attention must be paid.

The back and forth

Do you talk to people about politics? At parties? At work? On the street? Some people say that's rude. That we shouldn't do that.
But ... well - I get that it can be rude -  or could be - or can be inappropriate (for instance probably best to avoid politics at "the Holiday Table" unless you're completely confident in everyone's ability to keep chewing and swallowing. But - other than that, must it always be "rude"? Or is it, maybe, sometimes, warranted. Necessary. Productive. Good.
Since our lives are directly affected by politics, shouldn't we at least, you know, understand what each other thinks is going on? And try to get a handle on what might actually be going on? As well as call our congress people, sign petitions, go to protests, vote, call them on their bullshit, applaud their progress and hold their feet to the fire to keep it up? Isn't that our job as citizens?
After all, what do we gain from keeping our mouths shut? Peace and quiet? At least the illusion of it?
Because when people who disagree about politics (or religion, or both) start talking, they often start shouting, and sometimes shooting (small scale - "man shoots in direction of brother-in-law, accidentally wounding second cousin and two nephews - or grand scale - terrorist attacks, full out war). Here's the thing. I don't want to cause an accidental shooting or start a war, but talking about politics is actually one of my favorite things to do. Most people, I know, would rather stick their head into a ceiling fan but not me.  Seriously - when I find another person at a party, at work, in a cab, who actually likes talking politics? (whether they agree with me OR NOT) I'm happy as a clam at a cancelled clambake.
I had a friend recently say to me that he'd stopped talking about politics entirely, unless he was certain the people he was speaking with agreed with him. He said he regretted letting some of his friends know how he felt about things, as they'd stopped being his friends now. 
He felt that sharing his feelings was bad, and that losing these "friends" was bad. But what kind of loser friends could they have been in the first place if that's all it took to get rid of them? Finding out that he did indeed, believe in global warming, gun control, etc and so forth, and therefore, that people who didn't might be, you know, stupid. 
Though I doubt he actually called them stupid, maybe they just felt stupid (because not believing in global warming and gun control is, you know, stupid). Whatever - bad friends, good riddance. The end. 
I've had awesome to really good to perfectly fine discussions with cab drivers - fellow party guests, co-workers and strangers on the street about politics. And sometimes it's not so good. And I wish I'd not done it. But I never truly regret it. It's always a horse I feel is worth getting on again, even when said horse calls me an elitist asthete communist socialist Jezebel and throws me across the virtual room. I mean -- I love preaching to the choir, you know? They're so receptive. But sometimes it's worth it to preach to "not the choir". Or talk to them rather. And listen to them. Even if it makes you want to pull your hair out. And if you're patient and leave your hair where it is - then sometimes there can be an interesting exchange of ideas, or unexpected common ground. And if not? At least you tried. And learned something. (like how to better pick your battles - and maybe how to get out of them better once you've picked them).

No. It's not like "face to face" - sheesh! (Facebook series - part 1)

And now - I shall vent.
But does "venting" mean I'm "angry"? -- I don't feel angry. (To vent) 
So maybe I'm just "sharing"(To share)
Though I do admit that I feel a groan coming on, followed closely by an eye roll, so, take it as you wish.
Let's talk about Facebook.

"OH crap!!" "Argh!" "It's SO shallow." "HUGE waste of time!" "SO fake!" "They're not "real" friends." "SUPER LAME  replacement for face to face contact!"
I've been hearing this sort of thing since I joined the Facebook - way back in 2008. (I like calling it "the Facebook" - it amuses me, don't know why. )
So I've been hearing this - and finding it to be ... what ... annoying? Tedious? Whiny even? All of the above - and I also find it to be untrue.
Let's start with "lame replacement for face to face contact".
Comparing the Facebook with the Face to Face is like comparing airplanes with cars.  As in: Flying sucks! I can't see any of the "roadside attractions" between NY (where I live now) and NC (where I'm from). Well - yes - that's true.
If one wants to see roadside attractions then one ought to drive there. Preferably opting for local roads. You'll see way more stuff. Horses, cows, truck stops, maybe a Reptile House/Chicken Shack - any number of potentially cool or funky things. Or - maybe you want to "just get there"- in under two hours - so - you'll fly. Or - maybe you've got to take a U-Haul with a bunch of stuff down - so you're driving, but you don't want to dawdle, so you'll take the highway, which also limits sitings of roadside attractions.
Is any one method really better than the other? Or is the best way to get from NY to NC the way that best meets your needs at that time?
Now - would I rather take a walk, grab a glass, share a meal, and so on, with my closest friends, or even my favorite "casual" friends or acquaintances? Sure. Of course I would. Would I rather run into them on the street and have a great conversation spontaneously? Sure! (if I have time) I love it when that happens.
But because I love that - is all other contact, including that on the Facebook rendered "lame" "fake" - and "shallow" ?
Why? Why would that be true? Are cars lame because they're not as fast as airplanes? Are airplanes lame because they go so fast (high too!) you'll never see the roadside Reptile House/Chicken Shack? (or cows and horses) Isn't it all - how you say - relative?
I have had wonderful interactions with people - often unexpectedly - on the Facebook. I've gotten to know some people better, including people I didn't know well or hardly at all before. Do I know them "completely" now? No. Are we going to spend major holidays together now? No. Are they my "best and truest friends"? No.
But I know, now, that they love to cook. I know what their child looks like, or at least that they've got one. I know they're into a certain kind of jazz or that they play the harpsichord or that they're descended from a famous Civil War General or that they lived 2 years in the Phillapines. Do I need to know these things? No. But I enjoy it. It enriches my understanding of these people - new friends, old friends, and everything in between. And reminds me that the world is a rich place and that people are multi-layered and not as easy to "box and label" as we might think.
And then there's this. My husband and I have had several friends who've had serious illnesses - or recently lost parents, pets, or others in the "loved ones" category. Facebook has allowed us to stay "in the loop" as to what's happening with them. They can know we're thinking of them - we can send messages of encouragement, publicly or privately-  or even helpful information if it seems appropriate, about organizations, stress relievers, our own personal experience with said illness. We've had friends who've gotten married, had babies, moved or started school - friends that run in different circles now, but that we want to stay in touch with, but with whom it would be overwhelming to send individual emails or letters to all the time. We wouldn't do it. They wouldn't do it. It would be crazy to try. But we can still be part of the experience they've just had, in at least an adjacent way, thanks to the virtual village that is the Facebook. There is comfort in that. And that comfort is not "undone" by the various annoyances (LOL? Hate that - and all related Facebook acronyms)  any more than the occasional travel issue would make us refuse to ever leave the house again. Man up people! Nothing. Is. Without. The occasional hitch! And just like cake - it won't make you fat unless you eat too much of it. Oui?

Hi Women. I'm Paul.

Hi Women. I'm Paul. Do you come here often? My wing-man, Mitt, is in the restroom. May I sit down? Mitt'll be back in a minute, so we'll leave a seat for him, if that's OK. And can I just say, and I think Mitt will agree with me on this, that you look really, really pretty right now. You look thin and young and really really pretty. Not too thin of course, because women are beautiful in all sizes and whatever size you are is totally perfect. And there's no reason for you to look younger either, because women are beautiful at every age. If you were thinner or younger you'd probably look really pretty too, but you look pretty just like that, in that outfit, with your hair just like that, right now.
So, now that I've got your attention, as if looking into my iridescent gray but mostly blue eyes wasn't enough ... you want to touch my hair? Well - OK, just for a second. I know! I really lucked out in the hair department.
Anyway ... look! You made me blush! Anyway! Gosh! Now that I've got your attention, there's a few things I need to tell you.
Since I'm already blushing, let's start with sex, ha ha. But seriously. (don't take your eyes off of my eyes, and this will all sound a lot better)
What you need to do, stay with me here, is let me and other people like me, but mainly me, pretty much take over all decisions about your body. You've got enough to worry about just working on your abs right? (and may I recommend P90X? I'm living proof that it works!) But your abs are great anyway - no matter what they look like.
So sex. Here's the deal. It's for babies. Only.
I mean to make babies - only - see? Procreation. Period. Well preferably procreation period. I mean, listen, we all like to have fun and as long as you're married in the eyes of God then, you know .... there's little tricks I hear about, calendars, cycles, there's ways to "do it" and maybe not get a bun in the oven (who needs the carbs! ha ha!) - but contraception? I think I have to go with the Catholic Church on this one - contraception just screws up the whole purpose of sex and makes it dirty and disgusting. So I really can't get behind that at all, well hardly at all anyway. But abortion. Ugh. Like never, ever, under any circumstances - you know? Ugh. I mean you want to talk about being "pro-choice"? Well its really very "anti-choice" because you're basically telling God that you don't agree with his choice for you. That God's decision to make the sperm of His choice connect with your egg and fertilize it at whatever moment He decides to have that happen - and I'm not going to say specifically whenever or under whatever circumstances I'm talking about right now because it's a real "hot button issue" you know? But like I said - whenever and whatever circumstances - if you get an abortion it's like you're telling God "no". It's like you hear the phone ringing in your uterus and you pick it up and it's God and you say "no".  Seriously ladies, no offense, but you need to rethink that. And you need to just, I know I sound really preachy here, and I'm sorry (keep looking into the bottomless pools of blue gray blueness that are my eyes.) You need to let us men tell you what to do with regard to your bodies and babies, both born and unborn. Period. (well unborn really - after they're born ... well that's really your area right? ha ha - but seriously, it is)
Anyway - here's why men know all about women and babies. It's because we have penises, and penises have tiny little brains in them that only think about vaginas and vagina related subjects; unless that penis is gay, in which case it only thinks about other penises (ugh. We can talk about that later). So the penis brain (if it's not a gay penis, which again, ugh.) ... the penis brain tells the head brain all about women and ovaries and eggs and even menstrual cycles (ugh - sorry!) and that information, from the penis brain, allows us to make flawless decisions with regard to women and sex and unborn babies. And, of course, we're really just taking our cues from God, who gave us this double brain: penis brain and head brain - in the first place. So he must really, really trust us to make these decisions. Right?
That was a lot of heavy science-y stuff, I know. I wonder what's taking Mitt so long? He takes longer to "go" lately. One of these days he probably won't come back at all and then it'll be just li'l ol' me! Omigosh don't tell him I said that! Jeepers! He'll kill me! But it's true. Gosh you're pretty. Have you ever read Ayn Rand? I'd love to tell you about how Atlas Shrugged changed my life, if ... you know ... you're interested ... or even if you're not. Bartender? Another round for these gorgeous women here! And me too! OK - so here's what's so genius about Ayn Rand ...

30 - again

On this, my 30th birthday - I think back on all my other 30th birthdays.
It's an age worth repeating,  as one rarely gets it right the first time. Not that I remember too much about that first 30. I'd just quit smoking, I remember that. And have mostly kept it that way, except for the occasional backslide due to the events of September 11th or my Mother's passing or because I was in a play (not that my characters smoked, but that theater folks often smoke, so - sometimes I slid back - though it was never a full slide.)
And I'd gotten married just a year prior, at 29. OH 29 - you're so silly! Which goes for all those ages starting with "2", willy, nilly and silly. Sigh. (not that getting married was silly - just the ages starting with "2". Don't worry people whose ages start with "2" - it'll pass - and you'll be glad - promise!)
And aside from quitting smoking... there was probably other stuff; stuff like cooking, eating, working, fitness, sex, shopping, sleeping, meeting people, setting goals (in my head anyway, where I set them carefully up on a series of head-shelves and occasionally dust them - how does all that dust get in my head anyway?)
So the next time I turned 30 - that second time? Much better I think.
I really, really thought it through that time. I mean ... it's one thing when you just "ARE 30" -- quite another when you make a conscious decision to BE 30. It's a "once more with feeling!" kind of thing. It's the consciousness of a truly conscious decision that makes all the difference.
I was deep into the work with my psychoanalyst by then.
Heck yeah! F-you unconscious self! I'm cracking your code, reading you the riot act, putting your unconscious head in a head-lock and giving you a round-house to the many faces of your face!
Except ... well - turns out that's not how it works.
So instead I learn to pull you apart one thin layer at a time, you onion-y rascal - to try to make you a more conscious onion, suitable for salads and saute's. I learn to separate and to be more aware of when I'm not being separate - and to not be angry - no wait - I learn to BE ANGRY ... like for real - and not rush to (fake) forgive people without letting myself know that I'm REALLY ANGRY  - and  THEN, finally, I  learn to not be so angry - but only after I fully recognize my giant pile of anger.
Christ.
No wonder that second round of 30 was so exhausting!
So ... what for this third round?
TBD? LOL? LMFAO? ROTFLMFAO? WTF?
Probably all of the above. If hindsight is 20/20 and foresight is often blind as justice - or a bat  - well maybe my mind's eye sees better than I think - since with age comes wisdom unless one truly insists otherwise - so - this might be my best damned 30 yet! (Until the next).

Sarah Palin© Wants You to Know What She Thinks© About Stuff

Hiya America©! I have terrible news. As you may have heard, "President Obama" is continuing to drag this country by the short hairs towards the Tyranny of Socialism© with his relentless push to "help" the American© people get affordable healthcare!

Everybody knows that The Foundin' Fathers© never mentioned healthcare when they made the Constitution© and the Bill of Rights© so it's a little late to be startin' it up now! Right?
Back when the Foundin' Fathers© rode into this country, or sailed in ... I know some came on boats but some definitely came on horses. I'm pretty sure. Anyway - the point is, they GOT here and they TOOK America© away from the Liberal Indians - who were paradin' around with hardly any clothes on! Their bare chiseled torsos shimmerin' in the sun, practically blindin' our poor, light sensitive Foundin' Fathers© who weren't used to so much sun because they had to stay indoors most of the time on account of those wigs they often wore which, believe me, are very hot. Not to mention the panty hose. Which I can tell you from experience can also be very hot. Wigs and panty hose are both really - really hot - and sometimes binding!
And speaking of binding - now it seems that Obama has us bound up in a deal with the Devil© and I'm not saying he's the actual Devil© but on the other hand I know from the Bible© that Satan© takes many forms so there's a very good chance that Obama IS Satan© at any given time. So he's got us all bound up in this tight, itchy sweater of Obamacare© and he's tryin' to tell us that it's cashmere but we, the American People© - we're not so dumb! We know it's not cashmere because we know what cashmere feels like! I remember that first cashmere sweater I got when I joined the Presidential Campaign© of Mr. John McCain© - it was from Neiman Marcus and it was soft as the belly of a fetal© Grizzly©. And I felt like a Mama Grizzly© when I was wearing it! Protecting her brand new cashmere fetal© Grizzly©! I said, "You kids get away from me with yer sticky fingers! Get anything on this fetal© Grizzly© sweater and you'll draw back a stump!" Ha ha!
But what was I talkin' about? OH right - the most insipid dangerous horrifyin' threat to our country to date - Obamacare©! Which this unconscionably "activist-judge-filled" Supreme Court just said was Constitutional©! It's disgusting! I can't believe I used to fantasize about what Chief Justice Roberts might be hidin' under his robes cuz he's pretty cute ya know and has good sized hands for a man of his height - but now? Forget it! He's crossed off my fantasy list forever and it's back to Justice Thomas as "Mandingo" pouring cans of coke and pubic hair all over my naked body. That's a fantasy I can rely on right? That'll never change! Right?
Wait - what was I talking about? OH right - "Obamacare's"© destruction of our entire Financial System©, Country© and World©. Ya know - The Sarah Palin Almost Vice Presidential Library that I just built (you're welcome ;-) has been doin' a study. It's on my website - it's got several colored detail-y charts that prove how if Obamacare© is allowed to provide affordable healthcare to millions of Americans our economy is going to implode, then explode, then implode again. Because we really rely on a certain number of people gettin' sick, stayin' sick and goin' bankrupt ya know? And those brave Patriots© who are willin' to GET and STAY sick AND go bankrupt to help our economy? They don't need him keepin' them from bein' the Patriots© they wanna be! He's so selfish!! And if he and that Michelle (she thinks she's so pretty!) think that they can just SIT there in the White House - RUININ' our Country© by keepin' people from bein' Patriots©?? Well they've got another think comin'! Which they'll probably LOVE cuz they're all about thinkin' aren't they? Well you just keep thinkin' "President Obama"© - cuz NOW you know what I think! God© Bless America© everybody! And please give generously to the Sarah Palin Almost Vice Presidential Library Expansion Fund! (I'm addin' a wing!) (you're welcome!! ;-). 

Awesome ideas for new amendments to NC state Constitution (that compliment Amendment 1)

• Amendment 2 - grants the right to refuse the mandatory wearing of shoes.
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• Amendment 3 - grants right to refuse mandatory possession of teeth.
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• Amendment 4 - assures freedom to refuse forced education, e.g. readin' writin' and 'rithmatic - stating that: "ifn' God wants me to know about anything he'll tell me!"
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• Amendment 5- guarantees right to:  "let's us rethink that whole "women's votin' thing."
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• Amendment 6- grants freedom to challenge that whole "no shirt, no shoes, no service" thing (see Amendment 2)
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• Amendment 7 - assures right to refuse to rent to, hire, work with or worship with or accept on any level people who are: "a little light in the loafers"- "kinda man-ish lookin' for a lady" "a little foreign-y lookin'" - or - who "talk funny" - "look funny" - "act funny".
• AND THAT'S JUST THE BEGINNIN' Y'ALL - WE AIM TO TAKE THIS STATE CLEAN BACK TO THE 1950'S AND BEYOND!! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!

A Simple Task (Lucy-style)

So ... a friend asked me to "car-sit" for him while he and his family went to Vieques for vacation. Not an uncommon request among car owners in New York City, as it eliminates expensive parking, either at the airport, or in some other parking garage, and can be a nice thing for the car-sitting friend, who, being car-less, might enjoy having a car for a week.
I did not get to enjoy having a car this time, as I didn't have time to go anywhere requiring a car. But that's no big deal. I was still happy to do it and it was no trouble.

I didn't even have to move it to a new parking place while it was on our street as per NYC alternate side parking rules, though I thought I had to, so I did. Then found out it was "Orthodox Easter Good Friday", something I didn't even know existed, much less was worth suspending parking rules for. (There must be a powerful Orthodox Easter lobby in Albany.)
Anyway, the day of their return, Orthodox Easter Sunday, I headed over to Laguardia to pick them up. Again, no big deal, it's only about 20 minutes away, maybe 30 with traffic.
But I don't drive that much - so - when I do, especially on the highway (BQE/Grand Central) - there's always a little period of "adjustment". This "adjustment period" always goes fine (thus far - knock on wood - etc) -- it's just a little ... nerve wracking at first. The speed limit on the BQE is 45 - I was going 55 - and cars were whizzing around me like it was "Autobahn Day" in Queens, rather than Orthodox Easter Sunday. Never the less, I took a deep breath, held my own, and chose not to go 70 in a 45 zone, but stuck with 55. If the "speeders" wanted to pass me, then they could. So there.
Soon, I arrive the the airport (e.g. - I see the sign, note the lane I'm supposed to be in, and actually get into it in time. Good job!) And then try to figure out where I'm supposed to park.
(they've got a kid, so better that I park and go meet them, rather than just pulling up and hustling everyone in the car, which is how I prefer to be picked up at the airport, by the way - in case you're ever picking me up at the airport - just pull up and let me hop in. Don't make me walk anywhere else. Thanks.)
I easily found a short term parking garage. Parking Garage 2 it's called.
I felt good to have figured this out so easily. I'm smart! Yay!
I parked, made sure I knew where my little ticket for the parking garage was, then put some small items into a gift bag. I'd noted earlier in the day, via Facebook, that it was my friend's wife's birthday (she's my friend to, but I've known him longer, so she's still my friend's wife, even though she's also my friend, see?) anyway - I'd put together a little present for her. I'm thoughtful! Yay!
But when I checked for that little parking ticket again, I couldn't find it. Crap! It's time for their plane to land. Damn it!
I search and search, all through my bag, my pockets, the floor of the car, under and behind the seats, on and on - for a good 10 or 15 minutes. Starting to freak out (I mean ... what do you do if you don't have your ticket? Will they let you out???) I checked my pocket one more time, and there it was; in that weird way where an item seems to have been spirited away by aliens and then - is suddenly replaced, right where you've been looking the whole time. 
So then they texted me. (my friends - not the aliens).
They'd landed but were still taxiing on the runway. Great! I noted the aisle I'd parked in, E - level 1 - and headed for baggage claim.
"Hi - can you tell me how to get to Delta's baggage claim?" I asked a young man wearing an "I work at the airport" red jacket.
"Just take the shuttle bus out front..." he began.
"Shuttle bus?" I whined, "... really? But I just parked the car here! In that parking garage!"
Well that's the wrong one you dope! - I'm sure he thought, but didn't say.
"Oh! well that's Parking garage 2, you need parking lot 4." he said, warmly. "You get 15 free minutes, so if you hurry, you probably won't have to pay."
He didn't know, of course, that I'd just spent close to 15 minutes looking for the parking ticket that aliens had snatched, held for some sort of testing, then placed back into my pocket.
Sigh.
I go back to the car, aisle E, level 1, follow the circuitous route to the exit and explain that I parked in the wrong place.  "Maybe I can just "not pay" this time?" I ask the tired looking attendant. "I accidentally picked the wrong garage - so I've got to move to another one."
"It's $3.00". He says, flat as a pancake.
OK fine. $3. Got it. I pay, then ask if he can direct me to Parking Lot 4.
He says something about, "left this, right that, follow the signs" and so on.
"Thanks." I say.
What did he say?
There are too many roads and signs at Laguardia. I'm sure they could simplify it. Which is why I, somehow - I do not know how (aliens again?) took a wrong turn and ended up in a pile, a scrum, a vast sea really, of yellow cabs waiting to get the thing they get that means they can then go through and pick up a passenger.
Suddenly horns were blowing and a man, Indian or Pakistani I'd guess, got out of his cab waving his arms at me and shouting, "I told you go left! Why you not going left? I tell you left left left!!!"
And I'm sure he did say that. Why he thinks I must have clearly heard him and known exactly what he was saying, that he was saying it to me, I don't know. But at the moment it was so clear that he was right and I was wrong that it seemed not the time to parse why I failed to understand him.
Most of the other drivers were looking at me by then, shaking their heads and holding their hands up to God, Allah, Ganesh - whomever - asking that the burden of dealing with this strange woman be taken from them.
The man who'd tried to get me to go "left left left" decided to save me. His disdain lessened and was replaced by something resembling pity/amusement. Maybe he was a fan of I Love Lucy, and this seemed like something Lucy would do. (I hate it when I turn into "Lucy" - but that happens to everybody? Right? Right?)
So he and another gentlemen, slender with long gray dreadlocks and a beard, also laughing at me and shaking his head, (another Lucy fan I'll bet) got other cabs to back up, and then, together, they moved a huge, heavy industrial barrier thing and pointed me to freedom.
"Thank you so much! I'm so sorry!" I yelled back to them, careful to keep my eyes on the road. It would be a shame to break free of the taxi cab morass only to crash into ... well anything really.

I finally reached the sweet, sweet rightness that was Parking Lot 4. Parked, went in and met my friends, presented the birthday present, and was soon dropped off, back home, safe and sound.

Simple task completed, and feeling personally "simpler" than ever.

There are many things I am good at. Driving in unfamiliar places that require lots of sign reading and direction following is not one of them. But ... I can work on that right? Left? Exit? And everybody loves Lucy don't they? They do.

Dry season - wetter wishes

Post much? No - not much - had a dry spell - way dry - parched - crackly -- will try to become moister now - by using mental moisturizer? A wetter, oozier virtual ink? Freshly squeezed brain oil? Something. As Bruce Lee often said - be like water. (Never once did he suggest being dry - not once)
"Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.
Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend." 

Or - just be like someone who writes more ;-)  AND - be like water. Yes. Sounds good. Splash.

whattowritewhattowrite what to write? (e.g. Embrace the abundance!)

Argh!!!! I can't pick something to write about and then do the actual writing and then put it on my blog!!! The result of this sorry situation is that I've got three half finished, or more like half-started, blog posts sitting in draft mode like drunks on a corner (e.g. doin' nobody no good!). And when I say to myself, "You really need to sit down and write something for your blog", my brain makes a buzzing noise, like the TV from my childhood when all the channels went off the air for the night.
That's right kids - TV used to GO OFF THE AIR at midnight. They would play the national anthem, flag blowing in the wind, then nothing but static until the next morning when the channels returned. 
Well - that's my brain of late.
So ... how do I get my brain to keep the channels on? Does Time Warner have a Triple Play deal that includes "my brain™"? Is there an "app for that"? Some "upgrade" to download?
There is not. It's just a matter of doing it - like now. Right now I'm doing it.
And now? Yes - still doing it. It's called "jumping in". Not like one gets "jumped in" to a gang (sure - I keep up with gang lingo. In case I'm ever invited to join one) but rather like one jumps into a lake. See? I sat down and started writing about having trouble deciding what to write about.
Next step? I googled it. And found sites like this: socialmediaexaminer.com/4-blogger-tools-for-breaking-your-writing-block And also this: unblock.org - this sounds very convincing - but costs $87 - which I can't afford right now. (though I might look into it a little later ... ) And also this: victoriamixon.com/2011/08/08/2-tricks-for-breaking-writers-block-in-1-day - which advises  "write down easy concrete details about your day to grease the wheels" and "give yourself permission to just start without having to finish or write something amazing".
All good advice. And there's piles more of course - but just these few did the trick for now. (but BEWARE over-googling - else you'll get lost in a place like this: foster kitten adopts tiny rescue chihuahua
NEVER THE LESS - my searching paid off. That "Social Media Examiner" site led me (somehow) to a news flash on searchengineland.com about the definition of Santorum ("frothy mix of etc etc") no longer being the first thing that pops up when one googles Santorum - (though it's still prominent - tee hee), which led me to read the 2003 AP interview that inspired Dan Savage to put that definition (frothy mix) on Google in the first place - plus another link, not related to that frothy topic, that gave me an idea for at least one future post. So - carpe diem. Jump in. And my conclusion is thus: This particular "writer's block" was akin to struggling to pick the best thing to cook for dinner without even entering the store. I was paralyzed in the parking lot. Instead of just going in, grabbing a cart and seeing what inspired! So from now forward - I'll just go into the damn store and pick something! Or perhaps - just look in my freezor/pantry/fridge and realize that I didn't even need to go to the store in the first place - except to find that picture of the kitten hugging a chihuahua - which was totally worth the trip.