SANTA MONICA welcomes me!!

That's what the 2007 Visitor's Guide says, at least. I really, REALLY can't express how delightful it was to come home last night to see that in the mail. This package that originated in Santa Monica, CA sitting in MY front hall. KNOWING that someone in Santa Monica fondled my package (so to speak) and now it was in NJ...well, it just made me giddy. I felt like a piece of my California dream was sitting in my hands! That, in its own small but crucial way, it was another stepping stone to getting there. I vetted the handsome brochure over hot tea, my NJ windows allowing balmy late spring air to pour over me. A dreamy evening.

There are a LOT of people who should be very, VERY grateful for my discretion AND, yes, PATIENCE

Insanity. Insane lives. I kid not. I exaggerate not. No lessons learned. No evolving. No learning from the past. It's sad, really. My veneer cracks more daily. I'm out of patience. People think i'm IMpatient? I'm Mother Fucking Teresa. I'm tired of keeping my mouth shut. Tired of smiling politely. Tired of enduring madness. Tired of so many things, so many people. I more and more get why people cut ties. Leave. Flee. And it's too often the SANE who get the bum rap. They're "causing trouble." Being difficult. Telling tales out of school. Betraying confidences. No, they're breaking the cycle.

I'm a therapist's dream...yet not. It's THE OTHERS AROUND ME who are the insane/obnoxious/rude/angry/inconsiderate ones. Seriously. Honest. Yeah, they all say that, but in my case, it's true. I'm sure of it. I KNOW it. I've always known it. It's infuriating and a lonely place to be. And you wonder WHY ME? It'd be SO much easier being one of the fucked up, thoughtless ones. SOMEHOW I've kept my head on straight. I'm exceedingly self-aware. But there's Public and Private. Often night and day. And no one in Public knows the truth.

I know the truth. And I have 30-something diaries that tell it. If I drop dead tomorrow, there's some people who should worry...and get to those diaries first. But, oh, wait...there's also my online hijinks, too, now. MUCH more difficult to silence.

The American Flag

Last week, I found myself on a street in East Newark, NJ that had American flags flying from every single lamppost. It was a sea of red, white and blue. It's sad that I was so startled by this, but I was indeed completely floored. Here I was in Soprano-land urban New Jersey, and it looked like a Main Street in Kansas. It looked GREAT. It should ALWAYS look like this. WHERE are the American flags?!?!?! Do we have to wait for another terrorist attack for everyone to assert their American pride? After Sept. 11th, you were practically shamed if you didn't have your car window blanketed by the flag. "Aren't you PROUD of your country?" "Aren't you AGAINST the terrorists?" "ISN'T Rudy Giuliani the Second Coming?" For the record, yes, yes, and...hmm, how did that last question sneak in there? It's exasperating -- yet predictable -- that American attention spans are so short. If you have a flag (and every homeowner should), hang it proudly out front ALL days of the year, for Christ's sake.

MEMORIAL DAY '07

Remember our war dead...that IS what this holiday is (less and less) about. Especially NOW. But, yeah, it's SUMMERTIME, too. I've already mentioned i'm fucking stoked. Seriously. Like i'm a fucking college student. Is that odd? I just feel the same way about summer now as I did when I was twenty. Bring it the fuck on!

I'm also elated to be home after a week at "boot camp." I'll leave it at that. VERY taxing week I've just had. I need a fucking spa treatment. But i'm home. And slooooooooooowly unwinding...despite the hangover from far too much white wine last night...which was a nice late-night surprise, i'll add. Funny how i'm "hanging out" more and more with people DECADES my senior...and having a great time! Does that mean I'M an "adult," too, officially? Anyway, I need to get the fuck out of the house, get some sun, feel the humid fresh air, visit the cemetery (yes, that's right...there's a story there, too...ok, merely an anecdote), and find me some all-American BBQ summertime food!

Here we gooooooooo...a Stewart's root beer float and a suntan usher in SUMMER '07!!

EVERY summer, I say "I need to go to Stewart's"...and never go. It's just such a nostalgic Summer Classic. Well, this year, I've gone the VERY FIRST DAY of the season! All day i've YEARNED for a root beer float, and that's exactly what I ordered up from the friendly young lass...who somehow interpreted I also wanted onion rings. Likely my fault...I just say "yes" when I don't understand what someone says. She kindly took them back. The whole ordering process was a tad confusing...and why wouldn't it be? I mean, they don't even have prices on their menu board. What the hell? But they DO still serve you in your car! How EXCITING! I will absolutely go back and have some young thing saunter over with her order pad, soon attaching a tray to my car window. For the uninitiated, you have to put your headlights on for service. Unfortunately, the days of roller skating servers are over. It was fun, though, ordering that float and standing outside sipping it on a very muggy Friday night of Memorial Day Weekend. Very, yes, nostalgic. Very SUMMERY! I felt...well, NOT the age I am. Nothing new there. AND it was a sunny, 92-degree day...the first 90 day of the season...HOW perfectly timed! AND I tanned! Oh, boy, i'm excited about Summer '07's prospects! Fingers crossed...here we go!

I DON'T want to talk & I DO want a good night's sleep

Why don't people get this? Seriously, I don't wanna open my mouth. Too much noise. Too much insipid banter. Too much running around. Too much stupidity. WAY too much stupidity. Too many questions. Too much information. Too many problems. FAR too many morning people. My rage toward people doing ANYthing before 10am grows exponentially by the day. I'm not joking. Do you have ANY idea what's it like to be fundamentally a night person and CONSTANTLY have to adjust my life -- MY FUCKING LIFE -- to others' motherfucking obsession with thinking things MUST be done early in the day? Yo, shitface...that fucking bush you're weedwacking? It'll still be there at 1pm, giving yourself something productive to look forward to while you do Silent Things...and I get a chance to sleep. Have you EVER gotten a parking ticket where the court appearance WASN'T at 9am? What the fuck is Jerkoff Judge doing the other 7 hours of the work day? The ONE thing i'll give marriage...weddings are in the PM. I am THISCLOSE to drawing up legal papers insisting my funeral be at 4pm, just to fuck with everyone ELSE'S day. And I'll have some obnoxious comment printed in the program, something like, "HA, HA, YOU'RE tired and irritable because of the queer hour of the day, while I'M resting comfortably!" I JUST want peace and quiet. To be alone in the middle of a Kansas prairie in June, laying in the grass, looking up at the sky. Where I hear NOTHING and NO ONE. Wait, i'll take a dog...a non-barking one. Me and a dog. Laying there. And no one will know where I am, there won't be any problems, and I won't be bothered.

Brown socks with shorts and sneaks?

This is my newest outfit. Nothing premeditated about it. I had jeans on, the weather changed, I switched to my fave brown shorts and kept the socks. And they match! I even walked around the mall like this tonight. Is this even an issue?Maybe it's my wishful imagination, but this combo makes my legs seem tanner, hairier (!) and less thin. Honest to God! Regarding the hairy legs thing, I remain convinced there's something wrong with me...like I need hormone treatments or something. I mean, I'm RIDICULOUSLY smooth. Thank Christ it's not the 70s. I used to joke "maybe by 30, i'll be able to grow a beard." Um, no, and i'm afraid to even transform it into "maybe by 40." But I digress into issues that are borderline smutty. So I kinda dig the "i'm an alternative Village-type who wears brown socks with shorts, and I just don't give a damn" vibe. But I bought 2 for $5 flops tonight (gray and black if you wanted to know, after RIDICULOUS deliberation) at Old Navy, so the whole socks thing is JUST about to go to hell for 4 months or so anyway. I AM being premeditated about orchestrating a Brand New Beach Bum/Surf Look pour moi...

Madonna's CRAZY FOR YOU

This song never fails to get me misty. Do you have to be "of a certain generation" for it to have this effect? OY, now THIS USED TO BE MY PLAYGROUND is on...someone collect all the kitchen knives! For some reason, out of nowhere (the miserably cool, cloudy, rainy weather? the fact that tomorrow is my college graduation day, TOO many years ago now?), I've put in M's SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ballad collection from 1995. I SO urge you to acquire this album. It's for those same people who have THE IMMACULATE COLLECTION...ie, those who claim not to be Madonna fans, and can "hide" the truth by "only" having greatest hits packages. I've said it before...as famous as she is, she's wildly underrated as a singer, writer, producer...and BALLADEER. She's as genius with melancholy as she is with dance/pop music. Is LIVE TO TELL not one of the most devastating ballads you've ever heard? Is "devastating" being too hyperbolic? I think NOT. Dammit. And OH, FATHER is priceless. And RAIN and I'LL REMEMBER and TAKE A BOW. I'm done convincing you. I'm gonna go stare longingly out a window and weep now.

BREAKING NEWS: Jessica Simpson & John Mayer split, "still talking"

I'd just like to note that this earth-shattering headline was one of AOL's "top stories" on their main page. Is my sarcasm and profanity really even needed? I know there's a place for gossip in this world, but C'MON. Again, C'MON!! Even in a gossip sense of proportions, Taylor and Burton they are NOT. A TOP story?!?!?!?!?! One more time -- ?!?!?!??!!?!??!!???!??!?!!?!?!?!

You know what you were taught as a 5-year-old about THE LIBRARY?

Well, it doesn't seem to apply anymore. You know, basically SHUT THE FUCK UP? I've been at the town library a lot lately -- those computer issues I spoke of -- and, well, i'm surprised there's not a coffee bar and light music playing. It is INFURIATING to sit here. I'm going past the 40-minute mark now with 2 young chatty cunts about 3 feet behind me. One's wearing -- oh, one's on her cell now, which is NOT allowed, but I digress -- so one's got her fucking head wrapped up in Muslim wear, and it's taking everything in me not to rip it off and take my lighter to it. Let me add that there's also 1) a midget next to me and 2) a foul-smelling retard a few feet away. In addition to having deformities, they're ALSO being too loud for me, the midget asking endless questions of the front desk help, and the retard, well, just being a retard...occasionally yelping or humming out of nowhere. No, i'm not politically correct. Fuck off. Then there's the daily parade of ill-behaved children, whose parents allow them to scream and cry and roam the floor sans the stern admonishment and harsh "tug" that would've greeted ME at such an age. Oh, aren't ALL children just DARLING?! And it's NOT just the patrons. The employees, particularly one young man who HAS to be "slow" in some capacity, talk at length at the top of their lungs, usually about the most insipid topics. A FEW speak sparingly, and in hushed tones, and THEY get my Personal Seal of Approval...whatever the fuck THAT'S worth. Overall, though, it's -- naturally, as what environment ISN'T? -- a fucking ulcer-inducing nightmare here. My fellow humans yet again proving they never met a setting where they knew how to properly behave.

Computer machinations...MUAHHHAAAAHAAAA!!!!!

So I've had this laptop that my friend gave me...since Sept of 2005. A year and 8 months. My AOL wouldn't work on it...call Dell and AOL...talking to Indians in New Delhi...an afternoon on the phone...need a new modem, it seems...I put it under my bed and it collects dust since. Ugh. Last night, I decide to dust it off and plot doing something about it. THEN it dawns on me...DIPSHIT has an internet connection!! Let's try it on THAT! So while he's in the shower last night, i'm eying up all the wires and sockets, giddy as a schoolgirl, but I can't really "get in there" to see if it'll work. I go to bed like it's Xmas Eve, anxiously awaiting morning and his trekking off to work. And, YES...IT WORKS!! Alllllllllllllllllllll this time, it WASN'T the computer, it was just the fucking AOL dial-up connection or whatever the fuck. WHY didn't I think to try his connection before now?!!? I've gone without the net in my apt. for a month, but NOW it's back, baby! Of course, only when Dipshit ain't here...but that's often enough. It's just PERFECT on SO many fronts! Thank Christ I had this epiphany...finally! What it means for YOU, the lucky blog reader, is more ruminations from yours truly! Aren't ya thrilled?!?!

Dashboard Confessional's DUSK AND SUMMER album/STOLEN single

An early pick for Summer '07's Defining Music.

Mother's Day

It was actually a PRETTY nice day. Minimal aggravation. Although within the past hour or so, the intense bababababababababababababababababababababa insanity has escalated big time. And there was the hellish ride over, where I had not one, but TWO, slow-witted fucking dolts in front of me give ME the finger after I...well, ok, I DID antagonize first, but justifiably. Completely justifiably. As in, "the light's about to fucking change, are you GONNA fucking turn your ass left onto the 495 entrance ramp, or just inexplicably continue to sit there as if someone's blocking you?" I expressed this sentiment via obscene tailgating, vigorous & sardonic hand-waving, and screaming GOOOOOOOOOO! with an open window. So maybe he felt like I deserved the "jerk off" gesture I soon got? FUCK him! So, yeah, I was infuriated early on...and am kinda infuriated now...hmm, yet i'm STILL declaring this a good day? It's old, isn't it? My constant bitching about slow-moving humans? My constant agita over people talking to me too much? Sigh, I hear ya. I'M tired of hearing myself. But the stupidity is endless, so what am I to do? As I said the other day, i'll never throw my hands in the air and accept it. Move swiftly, pay attention, and shut the fuck up when i'm doing ANYthing beyond mingling socially with alcohol...follow these guidelines and i'll love you. I like silence. I like to be alone. I do NOT need nonstop questions and inane banter to fill the silence. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. Even the early morning birds are annoying me lately. HA! They're just TOO loud. And they depress me; not sure why. So, yeah, after all that, I'll repeat...I AM in a pretty good mood, and it HAS been a nice Mother's Day. Thank you, mommy. Glad you liked your overpriced, ostentatious flowers.

May 12, 1984

Yes, I (extremely heavy sigh) remember what I did today 23 years ago. And it's one of those days that's to the DAY, too...not just the date. May 12, 1984 was ALSO a Saturday. Go ahead, check. This memory of mine, as i'm sure i've said before, can sometimes be a burden, as i'm CONSTANTLY confronted with the swift passage of time. And the older I get, the worse it is. I mean, in my mind, that means that the NEXT 23 years are just gonna fucking fly. Oy, fucking vey. That assumes, God willing, I live that long. This is cheery, huh?

HOW in the name of God can it be TWENTY-THREE years since my family left for Florida in the car at 7am?!?!?! I even recall that Mr. Lyons across the street was outside and wished us a good trip. And i'm pretty sure it was cloudy, maybe even lightly raining. Our trip would be truncated by my getting the chicken pox in Key Biscayne, then enduring an epic, rushed trip back to NJ, me in the humid, sticky back seat with itchy pock marks all over my body. Yes, very pleasant.

And here's where it gets the most freaky. And I'm wondering if I blogged about this last year? I ALSO recall the headlines of that morning's paper...the deadly haunted house fire at Great Adventure the night before. Eight teenagers died. Which is just horrific. So I just Wikipedia'd "Great Adventure fire" and got the whole story fresh. And it lists the names and ages of those killed -- ages 15 through 18 -- and it's just sooooooooooo creepy and bizarre that they'd be 38 to 41-years-old now. STILL young. God. Their lives snuffed out while having fun at an amusement park. It's just creepy, everything about it...the events itself, and that I remember it yearly in my fucked up mind. You know where this is going...be grateful you're here.

Now that i've brought everyone to the brink of wrist-slitting, let me end by noting...WOW!!...that on 5/12/84, barely anyone knew who Madonna was. She'd only released HOLIDAY and BORDERLINE, and only the latter had a video, which was JUST getting airplay around May. So THIS is a good thing...because it seems like an eternity since the world existed sans Madonna. Which means life doesn't go SO fast. Ok, so it does, but i'm trying to be optimistic here...

Life is GOOD!

Just wanted to note my current frame of mind. I often get the (heavy sigh) impression that many think i'm angry, angry, ANGRY! Just FULL of rage! GRRRRRRRRRR!! Now I stand by every single thing i've ever bitched about. People are stupid. Often. Daily. And they infuriate me. And just as often, people are SLOW. And THAT infuriates me maybe even MORE. The day I stop being angry about stupidity and slowness...well, it'll probably be the day I die, because I cannot fathom accepting either. Just yesterday, I openly cursed countless times on the streets of Manhattan as people moved UNSPEAKABLY slowly through Midtown at midday. I might as well have been in Butte, MT. It was perhaps the most obvious i've ever been with my profanity-laden eyerolling over slow-moving dolts. And it was NOT just the tourists. A one-limbed toddler could've crawled faster than three businessmen fucks shuffling down 7th Avenue, naturally all lined up in a row, so there was NO way I could get past them. AHHHHHHHHHHH!!

But THIS posting is about how i'm NOT that way all the time. Not remotely. And, lol, it INFURIATES me that so many are so stupid in realizing that. I mean, again, note the title of my blog, please. It STARTS with the word ZEN. I actually -- are you ready? ARE you?? -- think i'm one of the most optimistic, life-affirming people I know. Oh, well. One of the things I've definitely learned is that you can't fight EVERYthing in this life. So if you're reading this, know i'm not ALWAYS angry...though I think that comes across if you know me well. People DO enjoy being with me...and who wants to be around an Angry Person? But as I was saying, it's been a wonderful spring of 2007! I pray the pattern continues.

"THE SIMPSONS makes you THAT happy?"

Yes, mom, it does. It REALLY does. She'd come downstairs to see the reason for my high-pitched guffawing. I was literally in tears watching tonight's new episode. When I truly want to escape from the evil of life, I always go to THE SIMPSONS. Not to say I've had a bad day...I haven't. Actually, the past week has been incredible. Just sayin' that THE SIMPSONS elevates my mood like maybe no other pop culture option. Best. Show. EVER.

Plotting and Scheming

That's the overall mood i'm in. I LOVE it! Though at the moment, i'm experiencing inexplicable nausea out of nowhere. I'm thinking it has something to do with the pollen count?? Even though I don't have bad allergies? It's the ONLY thing that makes sense because there is NO reason for me to feel like vomiting. But i'm feeling a bit better now that i've pissed and burped. Lovely visual, no? So, yeah, i'm in full Change My Life mode. And last night at 1:30am, as I returned home from yet another night of drinking, I made the following realization...I'm one of a very few number of people in the world who can sit on their front porch with a full view of an architectural icon. In my case, it's the Empire State Building. I just never looked at it from that perspective before. Yes, I was desperately seeking GOOD reasons to justify my living situation, but it IS a cool thing. It made me happy on a late night in early May.

"T.P."

So I guess it's far too arduous for people to say TOILET PAPER? Yes, another blog where I present myself to be most unstable, but I cannot STAND cutesy abbreviations or terminology. Maybe the T.P. thing comes from hearing Dipshit say it a lot. But it IS more than that. Some dumb cunt on Fox News was telling some "T.P." story today...I don't even fucking know what the story was about because as soon as she both said "T.P." aaaaaaaaaaaand I had to see the graphic on-screen, I just lost focus and became enraged. Ok, let's be clear, I didn't hurl my cup of tea against the wall and overturn the coffee table. But I was ANNOYED.

**I'd like to briefly digress and go back to where I called the Fox News bitch, I mean, news anchor a DUMB CUNT. I say things like that ALL the time...EVERY day. And THAT is something that would erupt into a media firestorm of hysterical, empty talking heads and suggestions that I be fired and go into counseling if I was famous and had said this. Al Sharpton SURELY would be involved if the anchorwoman was black, but today's DUMB CUNT was white. I'm not sure who'd represent Oppressed White Newswomen -- Walter Cronkite? Nancy Pelosi? Barbara Walters? -- but they'd be out calling for my head on a platter. But all i'm doing is being funny, profane, outraged. It's not PERSONAL. Maybe this broad IS a cunt, I'm JUST not sure; I don't know her. Just as likely, she's a lovely young Christian woman stuck on the Fox News Channel.

Now I've never used "nappy-headed" as part of an insult, but I use WHORE hourly, I think. And anyone in their right mind KNOWS i'm NOT chauvenistic, hateful, or uneducated. This is how people TALK, though, when they're venting. Calling her a "dumb LADY" just doesn't make me feel half as good. DUMB CUNT is certainly not in the same league as racist or hateful speech, but anyone with half a brain gets my point. I'm not defending Don Imus. I have NEVER liked him, actually. But what happened to him is ridiculous on SO many levels. Sue me for saying this, but if the Rutgers female basketball team was SO distraught over what Don Imus said -- at their age, and in this world -- they need to toughen the fuck up and quit whining. Don Imus isn't who they should be worried about with racism. And the whole DEFINITION of racism is fucked up if you ask me. People are different. People get mad. People call each other names. Every name uttered doesn't make people evil personified. Every case is different. There are no Blanket Rules. Oh, my God, this is far too complicated. I don't have time for this...I just wanted to rant about "T.P." being used for toilet paper.

Let me end by saying I also get extremely flustered when I hear WINGMAN or PREGAMING. And those are just two words off the top of my head. I think what you mean is that you need a FRIEND to hang out with while you DRINK before the MAIN PARTY or BAR. RIGHT????? Right.

MAY!

My head is just spinning with TOO much...that has happened, and that i'd like to opine on. And I don't have much time. Oh, yeah, and i'm in the fucking library because my home internet's fucked up, so I can't really concentrate on writing brilliant blogs. Sigh. But it's weird that it's May. I'm glad, but it's weird. Another "new start." Yup, another one. My 2,394th one. And it nicely coincides with An Ending...one that I celebrated last night at a tres chic restaurant on 14th Street in beautiful NYC. On a windy, sunny, 75-degree evening. Couldn't have been better. Just a FANTASTIC night. Drinking outside. "Yes, I'll have a mojito, thank you!" "Cuban sandwich? Sure!" "What kind of balls are these?" And I just stood there thinking how CRAZY it was that I was there. And with a bunch of people I didn't know existed 2 months earlier. I love it, love it, LOVE IT! Life is so full of endless possibilities. This is where I tell you to hold on for one more day, like Wilson Phillips so sagely instructed us in 1990. You, TOO, could wind up sipping a cocktail at 1am at the Maritime Hotel with a drunken SURVIVOR castoff! Dream big!