The one about ...

What to say? The blood of over 2,000 American soliders and tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians is on the hands of these criminals in Washington. It finally seems that this fucking haze that has settled over the country is starting to lift and we are seeing these monsters for who they truly are. Their Gestapo tactics are finally being exposed. First Libby. Next Rove. Then the fucking Chimp. Nothing really left to say. The state of the nation and the mounting body count speaks volumes.

The one about feeling and writing and forgiving

Warning: This post may be filled with much self-pity and undervaluing of one's own abilities. Proceed with caution.

I am ashamed. I promised that I would be more diligent in my blogging and I haven't written in over a week and I feel terribly guilty. I offer the following post as some sort of explanation.

I have not heard from The Daft Punk and I deleted all of his phone numbers and emails. I could not contact him. I wouldn't know how. I am deeply hurt by the way he treated me and ended things and I'm not sure what to do about it. I can't wallow in self-pity, but if MAH is to be true to himself, he will refuse to allow him to get off the hook so easily. How Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction ("I will not be ignored, Dan"). I want him to feel bad. I want him to know that he hurt me. I want him to be ashamed of his behavior. Look, I have been rejected by my fair share of men. That's life, right? But when you're in your 30's and you've been dating for three months, the"never calling again" tactic is not acceptable. Aside from the fact, that I did like him and thought he liked me, it is, for me, more about feeling insignificant and rejected. I have a very difficult time meeting men. I am told that I send out "not interested" vibes. So, for me to meet someone and like them and want to see them again is very rare. My friends know that I have a very strong sense of right and wrong, this is both a strength and weakness, and it is wrong for someone to treat another human being like this. I cannot respect someone who doesn't have the balls to say what they feel and what they want and I don't feel that people who behave in this manner should get a fucking pass. You don't like me? I'll get over that. But the stimg that resulted from the manner in which you made me aware of that will not heal as quickly. So I'm pissed and I'm sad. No one has ever made me feel quite like that and it sucks. I feel like my therapist thinks I should call him and tell him this. I won't. I hate men. Well accept for friend's husbands, fiancees, and boyfriends, A,J,J,Marc, and Doc Harley.

Last Friday night, the highlight of which was meeting Doc Harley, who I really adore, I came home to find my LSAT score waiting in my email inbox. I won't reveal the score here, but I'm pleased, not ecstatic, but pleased. I scored higher on the real thing than I did on any of the diagnostics I took, so I guess that's good. So I can stop freaking out about that and start freaking out about something else: The Personal Statement. HELP!!!! I know what it can't be, but that leaves me with very little wiggle room as to what it can be. Basically, in two pages, I have to make the case for why I should be picked over 2,000 other applicants. I know what I bring to the table. I know I'm capable. So why is this so difficult? I have all of these ideas swirling around like a storm. I just need them to start intertwining with each other. I need to show the admissions committees how I think as oopposed to what I've done. It shouldn't be a biography and it shouldn't be my resume in prose. That's really hard. Synge says I'm overthinking it and undervaluing my abilities. She's right. I'm just not used to self reflection and that is what this exercise is all about. Thankfully, I have friends who are smart and good writers. Beware, drafts are on the way to all of you.

Finally, Vixanne and I were in a big fight. It's not important to rehash the details here. We hadn't spoken in about two weeks. She emailed me yesterday. I called her. It was as if nothing had happened. There's a familiarity between us that is both unnerving and comfortable. I can't imagine my life without it. I hope she can't either.

The one about My Big Fat Greek...Reception?

I did something on Sunday that I'd never done.

I was invited to a wedding, but only attended the reception. Somehow, to me, that seemed like cheating, like some sort of lie. Did I earn the right to attend the party if I didn't attend the ceremony? In fairness, the ceremony was in the Bronx and the party was in New Rochelle- not exactly within walking distance of each other. I was told that it was not uncommon to just attend the reception and that the bride, in fact, did not except us to attend the ceremony. I figured it must be something the goyim do. Jews would never do this. For pleasure, in this case food and drink, we must endure, which means sitting through some endless service.

Greek weddings are steeped in tradition. I think even more so that Jewish weddings. There was lots of folk dancing which went on for several hours. At one point the bride's mother pulled me into the dance circle, which I thought would be fun until I looked down and realized that there were actual steps involved rather than just randomly kicking and galloping in a circle. I faked it well enough. Old men danced together in the center of the room. I bet that they had grown up together. Could they have imagined when they were young in Greece that they would end up celebrating a wedding of one of their children decades later in Westchester New York?

This was an event steeped in ritual, in history. They spoke English and Greek. They sang Don't Cry for Me Argentina, which I thought was very strange. Members of the wedding party were assigned roles unfamiliar to me. Is this what it must be like for a non-Jew to stumble into a Jewish Wedding?

I was jealous of this close, large family. I don't have that. I haven't spoken to my cousins in years. I can't even remember the names of their children. I don't speak to my brothers nearly as often as I should. Our family just wasn't like that. I often wonder whether we have placed importance on things that aren't so important at the expense of forgetting things like family. I was reminded of this while I toasted my friend's joy. I thought of the people who, should I have a wedding, I would not be able to introduce, who I would not consider inviting for no other reason than the fact that I never thought it important to maintain those ties. Those people are strangers to me. I can never get that time back.

Oh, and a word of advice. Never, ever omit place cards from your wedding reception . Your guests will have no idea where to sit.

The One About The Nields

Have any of my readers heard of The Nields? They are fantastic. Went to see them with some friends on Friday and thought they were great. They reminded me of Indigo Girls, but with more humor. One of them recently wrote a young adult novel called Plastic Angel and the duo, who are sisters, released a soundtrack to the book. Pretty cool! They are definitely worth checking out. A more detailed blog entry about The Daft Punk, Yom Kippur, and the Big Fat Greek Wedding I am attending this evening is forthcoming.

The One about the Daft Punk

As most of the few people who read my blog know, I have been seeing someone very casually for the last several months. My friend J dubbed him The Daft Punk and I like that name, though I'm not sure it's wholly appropriate. Let's just say that he's more daft than punk. I would shorten his name to DP for the sake of brevity, but, as DP is a common abbreviation for double penetration, I will use his full name, The Daft Punk.

The Daft Punk responded to a personal ad I had posted on match.com and while I wasn't initially grabbed by his picture, his honesty completely turned me on. He wrote in one of his first emails to me, "I have very few boundaries, in case you couldn't already tell." I loved that. I still didn't have high hopes for our date, looking at it as a way to waste a couple of hours until I could be back in the comfort of my apartment watching Christopher Meloni brood on Law and Order SVU. Well I met him and his picture didn't do him justice at all. And when he left my apartment the next morning, I wasn't even regretting the fact that I should have set my VCR to tape L & O.

We've been out several times since and slept together a couple of times. But here's the thing. Are we dating? I don't know and we've never talked about it. I like spending time with him. We laugh. I am very attracted to him. Initially, I kind of liked this idea that we're "pals", "friends with benefits". But now I'm not so sure. He will ask me if I've met anyone recently on match and then tell me about new websites he's discovered such as www.dudesnude.com

Over Labor Day, I took him to see a play that I knew he wanted to see. It was kind of an awkward night. For some reason, I felt a little nervous around him. I think I was reacting to a vibe he was giving off. Anyway. I don't hear from him for about a week or two and when I sent him an email, he wrote back, "I was totally getting this vibe that you were blowing me off." Huh?? I was blowing you off so I spent $150 on theatre tickets? If that was the vibe I put out and that mattered to you, why wouldn't you call me to discuss it, to bitch me out, whatever?

What the fuck?

And then I, like the weak desperate man-boy I can often be, apologize for this behavior, when the accusation to begin with was such bullshit. Uggghhh.... Sometimes I hate myself for doing stuff like that. It's like I gave in, because I thought if I challenged him, he would blow me off. And that's the rub. For some reason, I feel like this guy is too good for me. Too attractive, too focused, too with it and together. Therefore, I'll tolerate just about anything, particularly because I don't know where I stand. There is a risk, though, in having this talk, in attaching a name to something, in calling this what it may or may not be. And there are expectations, and I don't know if I'm ready for someone to expect anything from me, and, at the same time, I don't know if I could handle moving forward without any expectations placed on me. Part of me desperately wants to rock the boat with the knowledge that it could tip over and sink. My friend T asks why I can't just enjoy this. But I can enjoy it, I plead, I just want to see all of his cards. I'll show him mine. Who has no boundaries now?

MAH Resurrected: My Shamelessly Shaggable

I'm baaaack! Synge convinced me to come out of retirement and post my list of shamelessly shaggable. I'm not sure what that means. But here's my list of five, I think, unconventional hotties. They get my mind (and loins) going.
Bill Murray: I love his talent. I love his face. He looks broken and wrecked to me. There is a sadness that he seems to carry with him that I, shamefully, find really sexy.


Tim Roth: He's like a straight Alan Cumming. Intense and short. A bundle of sexy in a nice compact package. Yum.

Jonathan Couette: Made the movie Tarnation which is kind of brilliant. He lives in New York and is gay! Alas, he has a boyfriend.

Kevin Spacey: What kind of list would this be without Kevin. I see him and I melt. He has this rebellious quality that I love. He looks normal, but there's something just a little off, a little dangerous.

Philip Seymour Hoffman: And I will be yet another to jump on the PSH bandwagon. PSH would be the perfect boyfriend...for a straight girl. Unless he wouldn't. In which case, call me.

So there it is. My not so secret list.