irony...the other white meat

I cannot even pretend to be able to create anything prosey that will express my feelings about the email below: from Big Fat Famous Writer, dated yesterday at 11 pm. If this were a radio show, this would be the time I'd ask you to call in with your thoughts. My inner Dr. Phil and inner Woody Allen are having one helluva slapfest in my head right now.

Hey, there -- sorry to have been out of touch, I've been traveling a great deal and haven't had much time to myself (at least not awake time). How have you been? I would very much like to talk to you. Is it too late to call you tonight? If not, where can I reach you? And if it is, when and where can I call you tomorrow?

Hope you're well. Take care--

--RR

the dirtiest word ever

L-O-N-E-L-I-N-E-S-S....this word is like the word "fuck" as I imagine it might have been considered in the 40's or 50's- or in places where the words "gay" or '"lesbian" are not as de rigueur as they are on mainstream TV today. People are scared of this word and all that it conotates, because like other words that have actual sexual meanings or implications, it forces a reaction that provokes one to look inside him/herself to think of values. You have to think to yourself:" Am I okay with the actual meaning of "Gay"/"Lesbian" because I feel great about my own sexual orientation, so if someone says those words they have little affect on me outside of their context in the conversation? And "fuck"- do I see that word is merely an exclamation for some whose cultural base supports profanity as a means to express big emotion? But "lonely" seems so loaded: can you even think of one character on any TV show who is OUT about being lonely? And when you think of The Lonely Character on TV or in movies- she/he is usually portrayed in this completely overdone, cheesy, characatureistic way- old, or unattractive, with way too many cats or overly obvious personality defects to bring humor to an otherwise dramatic and real predicament. Kind of like black faces in the 20's and 30's and how people who are gay were portrayed before Ellen DeGeneres hit the scene. I do think if I watched HBO more regularly I might see less offensive cliche's of this less than pretty human condition-like on Six Feet Under maybe Brenda was pretty lonely. In any case I guess my perception of how loneliness is perceived by others is actually part of my own loneliness- so if I think that I have given myself away or am outed somehow- that contributes to the general humiliation I feel in being lonely. And I am just as guilty of contributing to the derogatory objectification of the lonely by self effacing with humor when I am outed or have revealed too much about having a rather rickety support network. Now I get why that crying clown image became such a staple in visual iconography- we all know what it really means.

isn't it neat when...

There are just a few things in my life thus far that have really turned out EXACTLY as I had hoped-and I am really really grateful for them. One of them is my friend Bonnie's life. She called me this morning and talked about her daughter's teacher and how complex and emotional Kindergarten is for her daughter. After giving her the rest of the story on Big Fat Famous Writer guy ( man she is a good listener!) she told me how this teacher has been really emotionally unavailable- and just has not made a good first impression whatsoever. As I listened I started to think on why the nurturer part of my job as a teacher is the glue for me in my life and profession. There are always going to be kids that you just will never understand because they are way smarter than you are, or they just operate so differently from the way you did as a kid. But to teach all kinds of kids you have to be ready to love them- I mean REALLY love them- the way that you love a bitchy sister, crabby cat, distant father, neurotic mother. You have to not only look past what you may not understand about them, but you have to embrace it and try to provide ways for yourself to really see them as they are. Because if you can see the kids in your class exactly as they are, you will just automatically help them to be more sparkly versions of themselves, and isn't that what we want? Isn't that what a diverse and evolved culture needs- grown ups that accept themselves for all they are and are not- and groups of grownups who don't need to be the BEST at everything- but need to accept challenges and keep growing at what they can do fabulously? Yes- we have to teach skills- the basics to become eventually employable- but isn't knowing how to care for someone- knowing how to be polite and loving a REALLY important skill too? And you might think, well- that stuff should come from home, but actually they have to come from teachers and community too because we want our kids to feel safe, confident, and concerned outside of our homes right? We need to make sure in fact that kids see that emotional intelligence is a hihgly valued skill- being tuned into the world and who is in it with you is one of those skills that as a society we do need to survive- because we are interdependent. This is my life's work because my father spent most of my childhood trying to brainwash me into thinking that one must be independent...that to depend on anybody for anything is foolish and unrealistic- it is only now after years of therapy of course that I realize that was his way of dodging his own responsibility as a parent, husband and human being. Combined with his own history of being raised by a father who believed the gospel of Ayn Rand and a mother who's father starved her as punishment- he had some high quality tools to really fuck up his own kids' self esteem. So every day of my life I straddle two dichotomous things in my head: my own demons of not wanting to play with others because of a troft of fear that people will not like me because they will think I am weak or imperfect somehow- and my gynormous desire to love and be loved. And just when the voice of my dad gets too loud, I look at my class and realize that they are watching me in the lunchroom and hallway- and what they take home that day will become a critical part of the setting of their stories.

if I could do it over again

Brett Freedman called me a few weeks ago after I saw him on the Today Show. He was my closest friend from childhood, and he is now a make-up artist to the stars. Our friendship ended around eighth grade for the usual reasons: I was making up insane lies to get attention due to the fact that my parents were divorcing, my sister was beginning her drug addiction at age 10, and I was the perfect victim for Brett and his new sidekick Carol Bradley- rich girl. When Brett left his first message on my voicemail I had this bizarre fantasy that he called to apologize for all the really uncreative suburban teenage bullying he had committed against me. I imagined that he would tell me that he actually really cared for me- and that to this day he thinks of me as a brilliantly creative and funny person. I told my friend Jay these fantasies- and my sister ...she said "don't count on it", Jay said that maybe it was karma coming back around for me. And I tended to agree with Jay because the all time nausea inducing thing happened that same week that Brett Freedman called me: Richard The Big Fat Famous Writer emailed me. This brought on an onslaught of apology and acknowledgement fantasies in my brain. His email went something like this-" Hi- I know it is a terrible cliche, but I am writing to you out of the blue to not apologize or acknowledge you in any way". He wrote me this email four days after he had a hefty article published in the NY Times magazine that brought up so many feelings that I felt like I fell on a porcupine. The coincidence was so unpleasant- and not in that popular "train wreck" style of unpleasantness, but in that way that makes you need at least 200% more therapy than the 30% covered by your insurance. So it turns out that I was right about Brett Freedman anyway. I am going to call him this weekend cause he is coming to NYC soon for a shoot and wants to have dinner. As for Richard Big Fat Famous Writer in my head- he is that damned stale gum I've been chewing for way to long but just won't spit out because even that dull mint that has now numbed my tongue and flacid rubber that has slackened my jaw is satisfying because it distracts me from my lonliness.