Stella!

One of the things that comes from not being able to walk much and feeling depressed about all the things that seem to be going wrong in your life is that you finally start taking advantage of Netflix and watching way more movies than your monthly fee would get you at the rental place. Most recently I've watched: A Street Car Named Desire, starring the enigmatic and ruthlessly attractive Marlon Brando; The Kid Stays in the Picture, a film about the rapid rise and downward spiral of Robert Evans, the genius behind favorite films including Chinatown; Riding Giants, a film that inspired me if not to become a surfer myself, than to fall madly in love with one and move to a beach shack; To Catch a Thief, one of Alfred Hitchcock's most unsatisfying films but an ode to the beauty of the French Rivera; Bus 174, a haunting film that I almost couldn't finish and has stayed in my thoughts for days and made me want to make the world a better place; and From Here to Eternity, with its infamous love scene in the surf and sand. Do note that this was only the most notable in the past 2 weeks, there have been more, many many more, but none worth typing about. Its hard for me to believe that just 13 days ago it was the 4th of July and everything seemed so in place and well...livable, survivable, enjoyable even. Amazing how fast it can change in a day and leave a person feeling like they've lost so much. A word to the wise--don't get too comfortable, next thing you know you might be all alone, laying naked on your couch with your leg propped up smoking pot, eating vicodin, watching old movies, writing blogs with your computer resting on your belly, and trying to figure out where and how it all went wrong.

Behind closed doors

I've been periodically crying in my office all day today. Just can't seem to get it together...too much stress and pain and heart ache. I couldn't sleep last night and just feel over run and hopeless. There's an empty feeling that I've been trying to ignore for a while and it seems to have encompassed me in the night. I suppose that's what getting older means; things and people leave, your dreams and hopes fade in to an unobtainable space, and fear and inadequacy seep in to the place where you once felt invincible and full of promise.

Fairbanks, Alaska

About a month ago I sent a request to the Alaska Tourism Bureau for more information on traveling to and living in Alaska. Here are some interesting facts that I learned from their glossy brochure. All are direct quotes:

1. Duct Tape is a versatile source of repair used by many Alaskans. You can use it to repair a ripped parka or broken fishing rod, repair a hole in your canoe or kayak, hold together a snowmobile cowling, or remove sled dog hair from your clothes. It can be purchased in quantities locally.

2. Children in Fairbanks have outside recess until the temperature drops to -20 degrees. Popular activities include ice skating and building snow forts.

3. Over 1,500 tons of crystal clear ice will be cut and removed from a frozen pond in 3,000-7,500 lbs blocks for winter ice sculpting competitions.

4. Blue Babe is a 36,000 year-old Pleistocene steppe bison mummy on display at the university of Alaska Museum of the North.

5. During June, points on a moose's antlers grow 1cm/day. One pound of antler can be added on a good day of growth to a bull moose's head.

When the ER feels familiar it might be time to leave NYC

It turns out that by 4:00 yesterday what I thought was just some bad bruising and scrapes was really a concussion and torn muscle. I was in a meeting when all of a sudden I got the most intense headache and started seeing spots and flashes. I thought it might be the beginning of another migrane, but when I stood up to go to my office I was so dizzy I almost fainted. I managed to make it back without bursting into tears but as soon as the door was closed I lost it. I don't think I've ever been in so much pain. I could hardly walk and I really thought I might be having an aneurism. I've never been more scared. I took a cab to the ER (the very same ER that treated me for the last cab accident) and proceeded to have a breakdown once I got there and realized I couldn't stand. They took me in a wheelchair back to a bed and pumped me full of morphine and scared me even more by running around in hushed tones, calling the neurologist and checking on me every 2 minutes. After the tests were done they concluded I had a concussion and soft tissue damage. The doctor said that I should stay the night to be monitored but I really couldn't take it. Babies were screaming, the man next to me was handcuffed to the bed and the woman across the hall had just been raped. It was all so horrifying and terrifying I just wanted to go home. They told me that if there was someone that I could call to spend the night with me and watch me I could go. I lied and said that there was, that there was someone worried and waiting for me, and they told me to set an alarm clock for every hour and make sure I woke up and was able to walk. I thanked them, took the prescription for more painkillers and went home to a dark and lonely apartment. I've never wanted someone to hold me more and tell me that I was going to be ok, but instead I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep. Obviously since I'm posting this all is well and I'm up and about but the whole thing has really shaken me and made my heart the heaviest it's ever felt. To top everything off I just got an email from the security guard at work letting me know that someone stole my tire last night since I wasn't able to take my bike home. Its been a pretty fucking low day for a bug.

Cab doors can kill you

One would think that after being hit by one cab in the Fall of last year that I would have learned to be wary of those yellow beasts, but low and behold, I've gone and gotten hit again. I should clarify that in this instance I actually hit the cab, not the other way around. I was riding my bike to work at 8AM this morning and was cruising on 8th Ave when some blue suited smug and oblivious business man opened a cab door in front of me. I only had a second to hit the breaks and it wasn't enough--I ran into the open door and flew over the handle bars, landing with quite the dramatic thud and roll into the street. People rushed out to make sure I was alive and as fate would have it an EMT was on the corner and came over to ensure I was able to wiggle my fingers and toes. The business man only stayed around long enough to see that I wasn't going to die and took off, as did the cab. I stood up, dusted myself off, fixed the chain on the bike and got back on and as I rode away a woman yelled after me "Lance would be proud of you, honey!" Maybe he would be, but I was pretty shaken and mortified. Now I'm sitting at my desk at work, my office door closed and my skirt hiked up to my waist, icing the most disgusting bruise I've seen since that time I fell down in the bathtub in Spain. My elbow has a gorgeous little raspberry on it, my ass hurts like hell, I've an almost intolerable headache despite 4 Advil and I can't wait to ride home.