I’m a Jinius

I may have to delay the skin diet aka liver cleanse diet. I don’t think it’s a good idea to eat cucumbers and drink lemon juice when it’s cold and rainy and windy outside and when your body is eliminating like ten pounds of blood and god knows what else that tags along for the ride.

Did I mention it’s gross out?

I want cupcakes.

Even though I had thirty pounds of sugar last night.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME???

Oh, I just received my monthly lady friend today so that explains the week long descent into all things sugar, meat, cheese, and the WE channel.

I miss those WE cinematherapy nights.

“I need my…cinematherapyyyyy.”

Anywayz.

On a last day before a detox I like to go balls to the wall so that I can feel so gross and sick the next day that I am compelled to do healthy things.  Like drink water.

Last night I had three mimosa, red wine, goat/gouda cheese (it’s like goat cheese and gouda cheese…but together) and banana cake and chocolate cake from Momofuku Milk Bar. Talk about food coma. Instead of water boarding, maybe CIA officers should use Momofuku desserts to coerce their detainees into submission by force feeding massive amounts of sugar and cream so that they have no other option but go into a deep sugar coma and confess.

Torturer: Tell us the name of your leader!
Detainee: Milk…must…have…milk
Torture: Tell us the name of your leader or we will give you another banana cream pie!
Detainee: For the love of god, I just want to curl up on a couch and watch Baby Mama!

I recently read that Momofuku has trademarked their desserts. And now we know why!

The next time a person of authority tries to lure you into their office by offering a box of Momofuku desserts, just run, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE.

Because you will not be able to run afterwards.

TRUST ME.

Met up with Steve last night for our weekly Thursday is the new Friday. I had to make sure that I didn’t get too intoxicated and not show up for work. AGAIN. That would’ve been funny. And by funny, I mean SUICIDAL. I wonder what would’ve happened. Maybe a Salem witch trial. I’ve always wanted to go to a public hanging.

We met up at our spot, Mr. Jones. They have happy hour from 5-8 so we happily imbibed sapporos, sake, and hitachino ales. I love the wrapping on the hitachino bottle. Would it be gauche to decorate my walls with beer insignia?

We also ordered the chicken wings which were the juiciest, crispiest pieces of chicken I’ve ever had in my life. Seriously, that bird did not die in vain.

We started talking about jobs and my current situation and afterwards, Steve said, “Oh my god I need a cigarette. You just stressed me out.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

A friend was telling me that my job situation sounds like an abusive relationship. You stay because you can’t really leave. I mean, how would you eat or pay the rent or go to Thursday is the new Friday?? And then there’s the whole visa thing. And, of course, you cling onto the hope that things will change and get better.

You know your job is bad when you compare it to Sleeping With The Enemy.

I know that this isn’t exactly the kind of economic environment where you should be quitting your job. But if a job starts taking a physical toll on you then maybe it’s a sign that you should leave? I mean, healthy 29 year old women don’t just suddenly develop cystic acne for gods sake!

I don’t know what to do. I do know, but I don’t know, you know?

I know that I need to be in an environment where I can be creative and feel a sense of camraderie and take a personal day if it’s needed. I know that I need to be in an environment where people laugh. I know that I need to be in an environment where I can feel free to have a sense of humor. Do you know how hard it is to suppress my jokes??? Do you?? Why do you think I’m constantly blogging and using the internet as a coping mechanism???

I need to be in an environment where I can be myself.

Okay, a more well behaved version of myself.

Gee, this has suddenly taken a turn for the serious. Can you tell I’ve been reading Oprah.com on a daily basis?

FIND YOUR SPIRIT.

After Mr. Jones we decided to get dessert at Momofuku Milk bar but the line was insane so I suggested a night cap or as Steve calls it “cap drink”.

He’s French. It’s okay.

We walked into Bar Carrera and had some tempranillo which was described as laid back and elegant. Just like us! We cheers-ed and I said that in Miami we say: Salud, Amor, y Dinero.

To health, love, and money.

Ain’t that the truth.

And then Steve taught me another toast but I forgot it already. All I know is that the last part talked about having strength in the pants.

Heh.

We started looking at these two cute guys but couldn’t figure out if they were gay or straight. Or if one was gay and the other was straight.  Fellas, you are throwing my gayday waaaay off. I mean, do two dudes go to tapas restaurants together?? How are straight girls and gay guys supposed to figure out if we should hit on you or not?? Help me. Help you.

Later on we went to Rewind in the lower east side and danced to hip hop and R&B from my college days. You know, that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff.

And then we ended the night at Pianos where we danced to the ground and back.

I’m very sore today and I still have two stamps on my hand from going to two bars last night. Yeah, way to re-affirm my professionalism at work.

What a week.

Well, I learned a lot of things this week. I learned that I can survive a tempest at work. And I learned that I have really strong bladder control.

And I learned that sometimes you can seek inspiration in unconventional places. I like to read profiles and interviews of people that I admire. I copy the parts that I like in my journal and read them outloud before going to bed. For serious. Their success and drive really inspire me!  And since it’s been a while since I’ve talked about CORY BOOKER, I thought I’d share this one particular interview that I really relish from The Guardian.

Two parts that I like:

1. When he quotes Lincoln: ‘I’ve long since come to realise that a man with few vices has few virtues.’

2. He talks about being a prisoner of hope. His friend Eddie Glaude explains why the prisoner part of that phrase is so important:

“When I speak to Booker’s friend Eddie Glaude, he says that “prisoner of hope” is a phrase Booker often likes to use. I tell him that’s all very well, but couldn’t you have the hope without the prison? “No,” Glaude explains. “To say that is to say that we have the existential armour to hold off despair and doubt. You know, WEB DuBois in his 1903 classic talked about the three temptations: the temptation of hate, of despair and of doubt. Doubt is the most insidious of them all - you begin to doubt your capacity. And so to be a prisoner of hope in some ways is to secure oneself as best as one can.”

So here’s a small toast for the weekend:

May we have the courage to be our true selves, may we have the strength to pick ourselves up when we fall, may we have the vulnerability to accept help and compassion from others,  and may we have shelter in our armour of hope.

FIND YOUR SPIRIT.

On Monday, I managed to survive a HELLACIOUS day. You know that scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan walks into the auditorium and feels that everyone is staring and talking about her?? Yeah, that was my day on Monday. Only, it wasn’t cushioned by the funny and comforting presence of Tim Meadows in a wife beater. The tension was so palpable that you could wear it as a jacket.  A STRAIT JACKET.

But after surviving that day, I realized, wow, if I can overcome an experience that is so uncomfortable and humiliating and traumatic then maybe that means I can survive anything???

Heh, let’s not find out.

So after work on Monday I met up with my fellow Miami friend Erica for meat and beer at Wilfie and Nells. While relishing our Chimays, we commisserated over our achilles heels–unfortunately, we have two–which are: overly sensitive and overly self critical. And when you combine these two components with the infamous Miami temper, you get a nuclear fusion that would have any Stalinist state knocking on our door.

I don’t know what it is but all Miamians share the same disposition. Oh, wait, I know what it is. We’re CRAY CRAY. The tropical atmosphere gives us our laidback, friendly vibe but the heat also lends itself to instigating an uncontrollable temper. The heat literally boils our blood. I mean, how do you think I’m able to linger over glasses of rosaaaaay with friends one day, and then lash out at my entire office the next? Miami temper.

Bottomline: Don’t EFF with people from Miami. Seriously, they didn’t coin the phrase “305 till I die, bro” because they were really into area codes.

Anyway.

I feel pretty.
Oh, so pretty.
I feel pretty and witty and BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.

Yesterday, I went to Carnegie Hall to see the Youtube Symphony Orchestra Performance.

Amazing.

INSANELY AMAZING.

So Youtube held an American Idol type of audition that allowed musicians to submit audition tapes via youtube for a chance to perform in Carnegie Hall. Out of 1,000 applicants, 96 musicians from all over the world were chosen for the world’s first online created orchestra.

The orchestra was conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas (also a former Miamian–holler!) and played works from Dvorak to Tan Dun to John Cage. What was so cool about this performance was that it was a multi media experience. They had projectioins on the walls and ceiling of Carnegie Hall and showed interview clips of the performers throughout the program. You felt much more invested and connected to the performance though this process.

I was near tears throughout the performance. There’s something about string sections that really move me–yes, Miami people are also overly cheesy– and there’s something about watching people’s dreams unfold on stage that is so heartening and there’s something about Mary.

Many of the performers are amateurs who have day jobs in offices or schools. They are like alot of people I know. People who love the arts but may have pushed their dreams on the side because reality got in the way.

Anyway, it got me thinking.

Life is too short to be scared of going to work. Life is too short to avoid peeing because you don’t want to run into someone. Life is too short to be writing a list of all things you should not be doing because life is too short.

From now on, let’s start writing a list that reminds us how to make life more filling instead of compact. A list of things that will make life have more striations than those humongous sandwiches on the blog THIS IS WHY YOU’RE FAT.

It’s 9:30 A.M. and I’m already thinking about the sake cucumber cocktails and foie gras kobe meatballs at Mr. Jones.

The atmosphere is Japanese izikaya meets the soulful seventies (same owner as Tillmans so it shares that aesthetic). There’s a DJ that plays everything from Remy Shand to Montell Jordan. Amazing. I can’t remember the last time I heard Remy Shand at a bar and that is because I am officially old.

The vibe is sexy enough for a date, friendly enough for a time to catchup with a couple of friends, and fun and spacious enough for a group event.

Did I also mention they have sake cucumber cocktails.

And MEAT ON A STICK???

There’s nothing more utiliarian than meat on a stick.

Maybe French Toast on a stick. Market that.

And I love the name. The NY Mag critic references Bob Dylan but I think it’s more of a nod to Billy Paul and Amy Winehouse.

And I’m channeling Amy Winehouse when I say: Gooooo, Gooooooo, Gooooo.

My current obsession is the comic book series Y: The Last Man.

Disclaimer: I am not a graphic novel/comic book junkie. The only comic book series I read as a child was Betty and Veronica.

But I am totally hooked on this series by Brian Vaughan. It’s like my Twilight or Harry Potter (two series that I never got into). I became interested in it because Brian Vaughan is one of the writers on LOST and if I like LOST and Brian Vaughan writes for LOST then I must certainly would like Y: The Last Man. (That was my sci-fi attempt at the transitive property.)

Also, one of my favorite books ever is The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay which is about a boy who’s obsessed with being a magician/escape artist and starts his own comic book series with his cousin. You will walk away with a whole new appreciation for the comic book industry and magic and the beautiful role that fantasy plays in helping us cope with our realities.

ANYWAY, I wonder if Brian Vaughan read Kavalier and Clay because his hero, Yorick, is also an amateur escape artist and can open locks and escape from handcuffs just like the protagonist in the novel.

Synchronicity!

So what is the comic about?

Imagine that a virus wipes out EVERY. SINGLE. MAMMAL. with a Y chromosome. No men and no male animals. There is no Pope. There is no Tokyo Stock Exchange. There are no CEOs of Fortune 500 companies. There is no President of the United States. There’s no more Rolling Stones or Yankees team or NBA. The only male survivor is a slacker named Yorick and his pet male monkey. How did Yorick–the ultimate escape artist–escape this plague and survive?

Now Yorick is fleeing from a gang of women called Amazons who are hunting down and killing any male survivors to ensure the dominance of the female species.

But Yorick and his allies have to figure out a way to keep the human species alive while also trying to find his girlfriend who is stuck on the other side of the world in Australia.

It’s like I am Legend meets The Odyssey meets Houdini meets some other sci fi reference that I don’t know because I’m not a sci fi person.

What I like about LOST and Kavalier and Clay and Y: The Last Man is that they all share the idea that the most unassuming person can develop extraordinary abilities and powers during times of hardship and crisis. We don’t know that we have the ability to go above and beyond until we are tested to do so. Another thing that I love about all three works is their common themes of choice vs. destiny and coincidence vs fate and illusion vs. reality.

During times of duress, it’s nice to slip into fantasy every now and then. I got into LOST during a time of life when I felt completely…lost. Kavalier and Clay taught me that magic is all around us, it’s about choosing to see what we want to see. And Y: The Last Man proves that true transformation and growth occurs through hardship. And that we are all unassuming heroes.

to quit your job during a recession?

if i had a twitter blog that’s what i would name it. although this blog is becoming more and more twitteresque. sorry for the constant updates. it helps me from throwing myself out the office window.

it’s not that bad.

i have this quote written in my journal that says, “everything–no matter what–there’s something good.”

as much as i love sipping my rosaaaay on a spring afternoon, it will not help me grow. it’s the tough stuff, the pain, the confrontations, the struggle that push you forward. complacency and safety will only keep you stagnant.

only three more hours…

I have avoided going to the bathroom all day because I have to pass my boss’s office to get there.

Note to self: bring adult diapers tomorrow.

okaaay, so had a meeting with some people at work and there were good news and bad news.

good news
they want me to stay at the job and they’re happy with my work

bad news
they did not think the email was a good idea and they said i turned a bad situation even worse. and now they want me to apologize to the senior official who told me i had no work ethic or professionalism and they’re deducting three days from my vacation for missing work.

i just want to crawl underneath a hole.