Friday, December 23, 2005
finally got to see the baby. he's adorable. he laughed & giggled in my arms all night- along with a good deal of slobbering- but that made two of us, so it worked out nicely. he's so funny, he's really strong & loves doing these little crunches & as a result he has totally defined muscles in his belly & legs.. & he's 6mos old. it's so cute- he's totally buff.
even odder is the fact that my parents have turned my sister's old bedroom into a nursery for him & it's full of toys & musical mobiles that cover the ceiling with fish & stars. everywhere you look there are bouncy baby seats & little remote controls that light up & make noise mixed in with asian bookends, art books & antiques. it's so strange to see signs of 'child' in this house- but it makes it much more fun.
i can't believe it's 10:22 pm eastern time & i'm about to fall asleep. i'm sitting in the 3rd floor computer/sewing room.... it's 38 degrees outside & i swear this floor doesn't have any heat at all. i've got a black beanie, wool sweater, thermals, wool socks, jammies & my puffy vest on.... i look like a cholo about to knock off a gas station, not a girl getting ready to go to bed. i'm thinking about taking some dog biscuits with me on the off chance that i can con the dog into crawling into bed with me & keeping my feet warm. this cold is going to kill me & the worst part is.. it's actually 'warm' right now. it's supposed to get colder & snow.
dead tired. must sleep.
Monday, December 19, 2005
for instance, this weekend i had to replace the thermostat in my house. it should have taken me all of 15 minutes- plus the 2 hours it would take to schlep my ass up to home depot, find one i could rip apart & piece back together to work with my archaic wiring- but still, far from a major undertaking.
i was in a bit of a rush because, unbeknownst to me at the time... thermostat wires don't actually carry a current & i was working under the assumption that i would have to do this during day light hours with my power turned off. i partially blame my father for this over-sight. we were talking about different options the other night & he stressed that i be sure to turn off the power... now this is a man that should know there is no juice- so why would he put the fear of god into me??? does he think i have the innate ability to conjure electrical currents simply by unscrewing face plates on the wall? no, but he can be a bit of an alarmist at times & he is well aware of my ability to start fires where no fire should physically be able to flourish.. so maybe it was just a hunch on his part. couple that with the fact that i have been deathly afraid of electric ever since the summer i worked on 'shakespeare in the park' & somehow found myself dangling upside down above the stage as a thunderstorm rolled over central park.. frantically trying to get the last of the high voltage stage lights hung so we could go home for the night & not have to work in the rain. something about having 20 people below me yelling 'hurry up mother fucker you are going to get fried' made me not such a big fan of anything with a zap & the power to blow your arms off.
but i digress.
i turned off the power & furiously ripped apart my thermostat, ripped off unnecessary wires & thingys, ripped off the remnants of the old one & found 2 60+ year old wires- corroded & broken... a blaze just waiting to happen in my mind. it was already getting dark so i was working with a drill in one hand, a flash light in my mouth & the assorted hunks of hand crafted thermostat a la heather in the other. it was pretty much going badly from the onset.
but i got things marked, figured out what to hook where & just as i was getting it screwed into the wall- my two lone, desperate little wires slipped back into the hole & settled into god only knows what sort of nastiness between my walls. a rather extended string of expletives spewed forth in a pirate like rage... but it was no use. they were gone.
and so i sat for a few minutes, in the dark of my living room wondering what to do next. i wasn't sure if i could turn the power back on - so i called everyone in the fucking world... & nobody answered. it was a bleak moment & i began to wonder how i would watch 'the sound of music' later without electricity.
finally mitchell & my landlord called & both said i could turn the power on.... i still don't quite get the whole 'the wires don't have juice they just complete the circuit thing.' oh wait... duh, i just got it. ok i'm a moron. but anyway, last night i didn't & i asked repeatedly... are you sure.........????' they both must have thought i was insane.
i still have no fucking heat though. it's damn chilly in this place.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
a man who left me for a girl who looks like a cheap waitress, flips out on me full of hate & rage & tells me to grow up when i get upset at him for slinking away without a word.
great great grandfather sits on my toilet & says "it's not 50- but i'm not going to tell you when. that woman will be gone before you know it & he doesn't care about you. he won't be coming back, so you should accept it & move on. you don't want an electric shower, that means you haven't got a hot water heater & that will never do for you & all your baths. your great great grandmother was a beautiful woman- you have her small hands & lithe, little back. what ARE you doing? we'd all like to know."
and then a stranger beat me with a crowbar- covering my bathroom with blood & little pieces of bone-but it didn't hurt, i just stared at him & then i woke up.
before i headed back to bed i looked online out of curiosity.
electric showers are used throughout england in homes that don't have hot water heaters.
i went to bed still sweaty & feverish, paralyzed by the dread of knowing what i needed to know & just didn't want to accept & the thought that grandfather didn't necessarily say i would live past 50- he just said 'not 50'.
technically speaking, i should be "HRH lady heather von sutterlŸnd hxxx." a title that holds little value considering most of sweden would have to die in order for my number to come up in line for the throne.... short of some national disaster that would clear the path for me to reclaim my rightful spot- i am merely 'heather'.
he could have just played along & had a mistress... but no, he married for love & has, as a result, cast me from my birth right & any chance of being lucky enough to find myself in an arranged marriage for the good of my nation. NOOOOO... i have been reduced to dating & finding that man on my own.. & i've done a bang up job of it grandpapa, so i hope you are proud & happy of the mess i've made. i've done the calculations & i am most likely going to be dead by the age of 50, alone without children or a family to call my own... much less a throng of minions to do my bidding.
but... there is a chance that i can remedy the whole 'i don't have a castle to call my own' issue- because lets face it, titled or not, i fit nicely into grand architecture & sprawling gardens (i think it's my small hands & delicately sculptural back)... i was meant to have a drawing room, conservatory & croquette lawn.
i've even managed to stick with your rather traitorous disregard for the motherland. if the swedes don't want us- well i most certainly have no use for their stark accommodations & funny language. as i see it: where better to settle down in a nice drafty castle than in merry old england? it must be in the blood, because i've never had much interest in luttefisk & clogs- i always wanted shakespeare's garden & beatrix potter's hedgerow.
i think i may have found the perfect unity of both (shakespeare & potter that is- fuck those clog wearing old, cold fish eaters). granted, it isn't exactly a castle, but it's on the estate of one.. & one of my literary & 'costume drama' film favorites at that: castle howard.
i'm hardly in need of that much space & quite frankly, without jeremy irons or at least a 'mr. darcy'... all that austere architecture just wouldn't be the same. so i have opted instead for a small cottage on the grounds- complete with 'electric shower' (whatever that may be), fireplaces & gardens... it may not be quite as spectacularly foreboding as it's neighbor but it is most definitely a place where both shakespeare (if not his characters) & beatrix potter would both feel quite at home.
i give you ryehill cottage:
what better place to hide away from all that has troubled me these last years & separate myself from everything once and for all? it seems like the perfect solution to me- as i've always been a HUGE fan of running & hiding... & i could really use a year away from everyone- alone in my garden, talking to the animals & plants. i already have quail, i just have to work on my madona-esque brithish lady accent.
of course there is that whole issue of abominably shitty weather. i still need to think about that one- but it can't be much worse than another horrid winter spent in sacramento can it?
don't answer that grandpapa, you already dashed my dreams once by marrying grandmama, 'the commoner' as we so lovingly refer to her when joking about our lost heritage. in the estimable words of barbara streisand 'don't rain on my parade' this time.
god my mother would be so proud that i managed to squeeze in a babs reference.
maybe THAT is the reason i will die alone.
no. no... what man WOULDN'T love a woman who can work the lyrics to a barbara song into ANY conversation??? it's the world that is fucked.... certainly NOT me.
Monday, December 05, 2005
so i have had a pretty shitty weekend. actually the last few weeks have sucked but this was the pinnacle of 'i can't fucking win - this is what i get for trusting or giving a shit about anyone' moments. i'm just so sick of it all. as much as it makes me absolutely furious & want to spew forth the most vile hate- i realize it just isn't worth it & i don't want to lower myself to that level- which i already have & i am ashamed of myself for it... besides, for as absolutely repulsed & angry as i am- i am equally disappointed & depressed, and it's too emotionally draining to give them both equal air time.
i really do despise people though. i have the WORST judgement in the world. if there is a person out there that will disappoint, devastate & ruin me... i swear to god, i run right for them. it's pathetic. i'm such a loser & every time i go through this i just want to put a gun in my mouth & blow my fucking brains out for being such a stupid fucking idiot. god i despise myself sometimes. fucking moron. it's like my life's purpose is to be walked all over for being a nice, intelligent person. why do guys ALWAYS go for the retarded chicks that stick their tits out to make their beer guts look smaller?
never trust anyone, never trust anyone, never trust anyone. the world is populated with assholes.
but on the less angry side of my life... i need to focus my attention on something other than all the bad shit that i can't seem to shake. i have a spare room in my house that is currently home to piles of shit. i haven't even thought about what to do with the room because my house is such a mess that the spare junk room was of little priority. but i haven't been able to find a good ballet studio around here & i've always wanted a dressing room.. so it seems perfectly logical to turn the wasted space into a nice little 'heather enclave' it was my roommates suggestion actually & i never really thought about it until now. ballet studio might actually be a bit pretentious... as it will really only be a spare room with a ballet bar & some mirrors, that's sort of like referring to my entrance hall where i keep most of my books as the library. when one has a library AND a ballet studio in one's house it becomes necessary to have hired help & i'm not quite at that stage of my life yet.... & my house most certainly is NOT.
i'm rambling. i can't focus today. i am having a slight anxiety attack & it's hard to breathe much less make ultra important decorating decisions.
"private lessons with the prodigal son, madison avenue apartment, nyc circa 2000"