MERRY MERRY BLAH BLAH

You know why I love Boxing Day? (that’s the day after xmas for all you yanks…) Because it means Christmas is over and we don’t have to listen to anymore crap Christmas music. I mean really. How can people stand to listen to those same fucking songs over and over and over, year after year?… they’re not even that good of songs. Silent night my ass, not with all those jingle bells rocking round the Christmas trees decking the halls and jamming pigeons up pear trees.

Fuckin hell.

Christmas really is such a production in the states, and my family is no exception. My mother is a bit of a Martha Stewart, and so every year there are perfectly little wrapped jems under a perfectly decorated tree while some sweet little cider kind of beverage cooks on the stove and makes the whole house smell delicious and safe and there are candles in the windows protecting us from the outside and all we do is cook and eat and be lazy.

It’s pretty fucking awesome, but as with everything in my family and in this country, there are a million expectations and responsibilities and expectations. Yesterday everyone went sledding and when I opted to stay home for a precious few minutes of quite time you would have thought I told them I wasn’t coming home for xmas or something.

“What do you MEAN your not coming!!!! You HAVE to come!!!”

Actually, no. I don’t.

I just needed a little down time. A little time without food, or cooking or cleaning or talking about what we are going to cook, clean or eat. (As I write this now, everyone is down stairs eating AGAIN. I don’t think I can EVER eat again. Fucking a. TOO MUCH.)

Re-entering the states at this time of the year is just, a lot. These people are fucking crazy. Americans are nuts. Wound so tight, so predictable so exhausting. And the gluttony is especially apparent and overwhelming this time of year.

I’ve been crying more than usual. And the usual is sort of never for me. I’m not a big crier. But I have wept like a baby a few times since coming home. It’s the strangest thing. I just get so overwhelmed. It’s not rocket science why… call it sadness about not being in Rome, call it sadness abut having had the dream of living in Italy for so long and being home so quickly after that began, call it being simply TIRED, call it being bored at home, call it searching in a REAL way for the first time in my life, call it not being alone after spending a year alone virtually each and every day, call it being 30… call it whatever you want.

The simple truth is I can’t do the things like I did before I left. I am different. And when I try and pretend I’m not, I freak out and have to lock myself in a bathroom or a closet or someshit and have a good long hard hard cry.

It’s a new thing for me. I’m not a huge fan of the new weepy chase. But what the fuck. At least I’m listening to myself, rather than trudging on, turning it into stress and needing a massage that I never get. Fuck that.

I pretty much always try to remain present in any given circumstance- you know show up, be present. But sometimes I just need to crawl up to my bed room with my cats and pound away on my computer for a while. Because even though I’m here, in this house, in Colorado, with my family right now. But in my heart, I am a million trillion miles away… in a little secret garden with my cats, and the sun, where it is quiet, still and I don’t need to cry.

FUCKIN A

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TWELVE FOURTEEN OH FIVE?

Is it really the 14th of December? Jesus Christ it’s been a long time since I wrote… I mean I guess it’s only 8 days but that’s a lot for me… fuck man. LA. Being back here- fuck, I’ve slipped right back to where I was before I left and sometimes it feels like my time in Rome, my life there, and that whole experience didn’t even exist….

It’s fucking weird.

I think the jet lag is finally wearing off. I was in a state of exhaustion for about 2 weeks- seriously fucking tired.

I did the museum thing… what a relief to get that over with. I got 47 volunteers. I have no idea how I did it- working and being all jet lagged and weird… but I did it and the evening went great and blah blah blah…. I just felt like I could finally relax once it was over. That week building up to it was just brutal.

I hadn’t been back in the country for a week and there I was making upwards of 50 phone calls in a day- balancing budgets, multi tasking, going out with friends at night, Basketball games, dinner parties… I mean it was like my life here in LA was on hold, just waiting for me… and all I had to do was show up and it would just start again…

Like my life was a part in a play that some understudy had been performing for me for the last year… and now I am back, and while it was a little strange at first, automatic pilot took over – and I am here. Playing this part, being this person… doing this job, being this daughter, and this sister, and this friend…

And it’s nice and comfortable and all of that- I mean Jesus, I can’t tell you nice it is to HAVE THIS. HERE. STILL.

But.

But I don’t know… feels kinda tired, and I feel kinda like this is just a means to an end. Come here, make money, move on.

I was talking to an old friend who (after telling me I looked simply exhausted) was hoping I would take care of myself in the next few weeks and that I would remember all the things I had learned and the ways I had changed and that I wouldn’t just let myself slip back into my old ways…

And I was trying to explain to her, that while I would love to have time for myself and have the nice relaxing pace I’ve had for the last year… I don’t know how to do that here-

How am I not going to go to dinner with Mimi and Damaris next Monday? How am I not going to go to Harry’s birthday party cuz I have to get up at 5am? (Oh wait I did that last night and have felt guilty all day. And MORE than guilty, I feel like I missed something…) because I WANT to go to Harry’s birthday, and I WANT to go to the Clipper games with Max, and to Thursday night to watch Lost on Tivo with my friends… I mean who wouldn’t?

It’s fun to have a social life… it’s just fucking exhausting.

Anyway.

I am home and I am fucking KNEE DEEP IN THE HOOPLA. Looking so forward to Christmas- cant wait to go to Colorado and get the fuck out of LA again.. taking my cats (my poor cats… they are so cool, so tough, so awesome… what a team we 3…). I think I am excited for Colorado because it is comfortable and familiar but I don’t have adult patterns there, and I can’t wait to have a little nature in my life, and finally- I just can’t wait to kiss those two little boys. I just can’t fucking wait.

So for now I am at work, making some stupid insurance commercial. Sitting on an apple box, in the sun, on a back lot in LA, surrounded by fake houses, watching my life go by.

Because that’s what I do in LA.

BACK IN BLACK

Holy shit I live in America again.

It’s kinda hard to know where to begin. I guess where I left off.

SAYING GOODBYE:
I only cried twice. Once when I sold my Vespa. I don’t know… Luigi was so good to me- he was my man, we never crashed, he never broke down on me, he was such a pal and he was so so baby blue. I actually cried. Then I cried the next morning when I put the cats in the elevator with some strange Italian man who shuttled them away and I freaked out. Luckily I took drugs and calmed down. Thank god for drugs.
TRAVELING
Flying for that long blows. Period. 10 hour flights just sucks. I mean, I doped up when I dropped the cats off, and that made me sleep for a while. But 10 hours. You wake up, you know? Luckily I had no one sitting next to me on either leg… so that was kinda sweet.
NEW JERSEY
Spent the night in Jersey at Aunt Lois’s house. TJ, Joe, Lois and Bryan. Love them. The real highlight was Emily and her amazingly beautiful daughter Sabine, came out for dinner and had a visit. That was pretty great. She looks amazing… and that little girl- holy shit. Gorgeous. The cats were fucking fine there… I mean like “what up we’re worldly cats… gimme a new house I don’t EVEN care.” It was bizarre.
ARRIVING
I was tired… obviously. In fact everyone was. The family was working so we ordered take out and kinda just starred at each other. I woke up at like 6 am on sat morning and thought fuck it and so I unpacked. Got mostly settled, made a run to my storage. Tried to take a nap- totally didn’t. I was feeling pretty fucking weird.
CULTURE SHOCK IN SAV-ON
I don’t think I’ve ever had culture shock before. Not like, real culture shock. But I pretty much lost my mind in Sav-on. It was the tomato soup. I’ve been craving tomato soup with a white bread and Velveeta grilled cheese sandwich for fucking ages… (gross I know, but you miss the strangest things when your gone for long enough) and there it was- right there- in Sav-on… in the food aisle. And there was just everything- food, detergent, stockings, cotton balls, convenience, check lines… it was all of it, AMERICA right fucking at my finger tips… it was so intense… I never felt like that before. Shortly there after I totally lost it and cried my eyes out for as long as I could..
THE PARTY
There wasn’t much time for crying or shock because in about 2 hours I was to arrive at a party for my 30th birthday that Carter threw me with about 300 people. It was truly awesome. I mean, it was just so much fun. It was strange at first, so I started in on the champagne. I got pretty drunk. Which is not surprising considering the amount I drank over the 8 hours in which I was at the party drinking- and considering the jet lag and the shock and exhaustion… actually I think I did pretty good. Except that I don’t remember anything- as I look back now- the entire thing was such a blur I basically can’t remember a second of it. I mean- sure I remember it… but not really- not really at all. (in fact I seem to remember the drunk bits clearer than the NOT DRUNK BITS…) It’s so weird. One thing I absolutely remember is that at about 4:30 in the morning a gorilla suit appeared and I put that fucker on and rode a bicycle a full lap around the book store. It was a definite highlight. Seriously- it was so much.. I had a fucking blast. But I was in such culture shock at that time it’s all like a dream to me now.
VICKI
There’s a reason she’s my best friend. She flew all the way out from NYC for my party. What a girl.
THE JOB
SO then I started working today. 12 days. In a row. Oh my god. Here we go. (we’re building a house so we can blow it up…it’s gonna be awesome but what a waste- fucking Hollywood)
INCOGNITO
And then there is the whole reason I came home early- an art show I am coordinating. I need 50 volunteers by Saturday night. I have 35. Fuck man. This is all a lot.


I have this theory that we don’t bite off more than we can chew… like we can always pull shit off if we make ourselves. But I just… I just don’t think I want to anymore.

I’m not as good as multi tasking. Or maybe I’ll get better at it… but I had to hang up with Damaris tonight because it was quite simply too hard for me to talk on the phone and work at the same time… that’s like, pathetic for me.

So even though I may be back on the playground… it might take a minute to be in full swing again. But luckily I got plenty of people around to give me a push…

TOMORROW

Is my last day in Rome. I have packed completely so there is very little to “be done” tomorrow- apart from a long lunch, a relaxing morning, 2 scripts to read, sell my scooter and say goodbye to my friends round the pub tomorrow eve.

It’s not sad, not really. I already have a flight back in Feb. And although I will obviously miss my friends, and SO MUCH this city, this time, this way of life…

I still feel, very much, that everything is as it should be.

And that makes leaving somehow easier.

All systems go- t minus 48 hours.

I’ve said it before, and I will, blatantly say it again:

Buy the ticket.
Take the ride.

Hambrula.

FOR THE FIRST TIME

I got really excited to go home today. Just realized all the amazing people that are there that I miss so much, and all the wonderful luxuries I get to indulge in: Showers, baths (been fucking months man) A haircut from Brenda and fucking mani pedi whenever I please… oh man and sushi and Mexican and mom’s cooking and carter and nikki’s cooking and warm weather and a yard for the cats and the beach and TV and movies all the time- oh fuck man. And Whole foods and basketball and a big desk, oh man and my printer and my desk chair!!! And a bed that’s not a cheap ass futon fold out couch… And sally’s ugly carpet pet ladder thing so she can get to high places without me lifting her p and getting her down…and Sav-on drugs (don’t even need anything, just love that it’s there….) And how bout this one- computer screen cleaner- gagging for that, my computer is just filthy, god and Tivo and THE OC, and Damaris and Carter and Jacob and my parents and Frenchie and Jamie and my mans and ma meems and just to pick up the phone and not have to dial with a calling card and punch in the number and blah blah blah… to call Emily and Vicki whenever, at any hour… god and life without a 9 hour time difference, and to just be able to speak FLUENTLY, ELOQUENTLY to anyone- to order meat at the butcher and actually get what you want… and to be funny to strangers, to be able to have CHARM back… god- and work. I’m excited for work- you know a proper job with a proper income so I can fucking buy a thing or two should I fancy it…

YES. I needed desperately to be away from all those things. And I needed to be broke and live simply. And I did, and I was and IT WAS AWESOME and hard and fun and simple and liberating- fucking hell so liberating.

But I think I might be done now. (Or at least this week I am).

I mean, am I apprehensive about going home? Sure. Am I apprehensive about living with my parents for ummm, an indefinite amount of time- absolutely. Do I wish I could bring Luigi the Vespa there and not have to buy a gas guzzling monster machine car? Fuck yes. Do I fear the greed heads and the hate mongers that run the country? So much. Am I worried I won’t have any time for myself to read and to sit still, and wonder and ponder and stare and write blogs and work on my little projects? Yea, it’s been an amazing year for that: ME TIME…Am I afraid that after 4 weeks I am going to number one want to buy thousand and thousands of unnecessary over advertised electronics and number two (and worse), decide I made a mistake and wish I had stayed- ABSOLUTELY fear that.

But coming here was a risk- and I did it and it worked out great. Going home is a risk too, in a way. But it seems to me the thing to do. And right now- given all the circumstances, financial and otherwise, things decidedly feel like they are, as they should be.

So I can’t wait to go home and fuck about for a few months in LA. Sounds fun. Finally. It sounds fun.

TURKEY DAY

Happy thanksgiving America. Not my favorite holiday (the whole slaughtering an innocent nation of people… I don’t know), but absolutely my favorite meal. I am just chilling in Rome alone- no celebrations no nada. Just a chill night at home with the cats.

My birthday, on the other hand was, awesome.

My near and dear Zoe George took me out and we had a fucking blast. We just wandered around Rome creating havoc- going from bar to bar, restaurant to restaurant- drinking champagne, popping balloons, lighting fireworks, jumping on monuments, tried to steal a golf cart… (foiled unfortunately)… it was absurdly fun. I spent a lot of the day on the phone- thank you all for calling and emailing me- no shit, it was an impressive turnout- birthdays always make me feel loved when I get so many calls… (and some random ones too- how about my babysitter from when I was like 5 called to say Happy 30th… amazing).

Anyway- my first day of my 30’s was, ahem, not so fun. It was just like my 20’s only the hangover was much much worse.

It literally happened overnight. I’m gonna go right ahead and say in the TOP 5 bad hangovers of all time. Actually, fuck that- it’s number 2. (there was one other really bad day- but I was in Aspen and there was some altitude lack of oxygen element that really fucked that one up…) this one was just pure and simply brutal.

Anyway… I suppose the long hard road of old age has officially begun… I’ll begin saying things like “oh, there goes my back again” and “why I remember when I was a kid, we used to write our letters BY HAND” Fuck man. All that “your only old in your mind” shit is- well shit. I live like an 18 year old, but I get hung over like a 30 year old. That shit ain’t fair.

Anyway-

One good story for you today. Took the cats to the vet for their health cert so they can fly next week, and couldn’t get a taxi home. 5:30 rush hour, called for one twice, couldn’t hail one on the street- BRUTALLY cold. Waited for so long- but the cats were cold, and so was I, so I said fuck it, and walked. 20 minutes. Uphill. With the two cats. Sucked. Now, for those of you who have met Peter, you know, he’s like, well, if my brother was a cat… or say, an SUV perhaps. HE’S FUCKING ENORMOUS, he’s the better part of 20 pounds, and while Sally is comparably small, at a mere 11 pounds- put that together, and that’s a whole lot of pussy to be dragging down the street. It totally sucked. But it made thankful. For taxis, and cars, and free rides, and heat, and having another person in your life from time to time to help carry the weight.

And I’ve been in Rome for a year without these things. All these things I so took for granted. And today, maybe truly for the first time ever. I really was grateful, that so so soon- it will all be back in my life.

Ci vidiamo dopo.

HOLY DREAMS AND SHIT

I’ve been having some decidedly fucked up dreams. Total anxiety morning madness- good fuck. Dreamt I had a fight with my parents last night cuz they took me to a football game, and I was “bugging out” (that was the phrase I used in the dream…) and ther was a wave machinge that used real water…(in the dream that was impressive) and I wanted to leave because I fell in love with an old friend (which made me wake up with the creeps), but I was pissed because my mom tricked me into going to the game, and I needed her car to leave… oh man- just weird shit that are all obvious to read into and I feel silly for having them… it’s like JEEEE-SUS.

I went shopping (this is not a dream) for my birthday breakfast today- salmon, capers, cream cheese and the closest thing I could get to a bagel. It’s totally NOT a bagel, but I’m real good with my imagination- and I have a real fancy bottle of champagne- so I plan to bring in 30 with a little treat for myself. Then I am going to lunch with the girls. And then I think I’m gonna get a tattoo. (I feel so naughty about that… tee-hee).

All my friends are really loving on me right now- it’s kinda overwhelming. For the first 6 months I could hardly get them to open up- and then, like when you try and try to open a jar and it suddenly gives- so too did they with their friendship. And for the last 6 months I have been forging some really important wonderful friendships. But the shit that’s gone down in the last week- saying goodbye when it feels so fucking premature- we all just fell in love! And now it’s later days to the Yank. Anyway- they have a few pints and its “we love chase” time. It’s kinda intense. Nice and sweet, and feels really good (even though inside I am laughing aloud at them all.. cuz their such saps…) but still it’s kinda heavy.

Turning thirty tomorrow. Wow.

That’s so fucking awesome I can’t even deal. Dirty Thirty.

Thirty is a full fledged grown up. I’m like a big kid now. That’s so wild.

I’m a grown up and it’s fucking cold today. Oh yea, and did I mention that I am grown up without HEAT IN MY APT. Wow does this suck. I’ve never not had my heat work in my life. Lemme tell you it really sucks. It’s so cold in here… ahhh. All I can do is laugh at the absurdity of this country. I called my land lord a MONTH ago about the heat. Don’t know why I should be surprised it’s still not fixed, and now it’s like, fuck it, it’s just a week + I can make it. But fuck it sucks. Sincerely.

Anyway- in the words of my favorite red head, “You need 4 inches of bod and a great birthday”

IT’S A LOVE FEST

Here in Rome. Leaving in a week and 1/2. Turning 30 in two days… oh just let the celebrations begin. And they have.

We celebrated my last Friday night of my 20’s, and I suffered greatly on Saturday… but Suzie and Zoe disguised as a UPS package (as if) weaseled their way into my apartment and bloody mary in hand carried me out to celebrate me last SATURDAY night in my twenties.

Next week is already a blur and I it hasn’t even happened yet. SPQR baby. SPQR.

I’ve decided to get a third tattoo to commemorate my time here. I think I will do on the Tuesday. I like to bring in decades with a bit of irreverent behavior. The last night of my teens I shaved my head bald. (thank you very much for your help Max Wheeler)…

But thirty needs champagne and caviar no? Too bad I’m so broke it’s more like Prosecco and gnocchi, but do I sound like I’m complaining?

On a different note quite suddenly it became winter here. I mean holy fucking shit it is cold. Too cold to go outside to smoke a cigarette, you need a COUPLE of coats to just walk down the street. I’m sure last night was in the low 30’s. I don’t think I could take it all winter. I don’t know how people do it.

I tell you one thing, my ass is RUNNING back to the wintertime in LA. Gimme some bitches in bikinis on rollerblades on the beach. Woo-hoo heat and alliteration. That’s what I am looking for. I say god damn.

But so anyway- I am leaving so so soon, and it’s a love fest out here. Can’t believe I am leaving. I just, can’t believe it. I think actually maybe it hasn’t hit me? How is that possible? I feel really aware and present- it’s just, I can’t believe that I am not going to get to walk into fins and see 25 people I know at any giving moment. I think I get the big picture, but it is the little things that I don’t even know that I love that I will miss- I have that feeling very strongly.

Is it possible that there is something greater at work here? That, for all my introspection I have still somehow missed, the biggest part of this whole deal? Perhaps one day in a month or two I will be in Colorado with the boys or in LA at work or wherever the fuck, in whole foods and BAM, Whatever I feel I am missing, will hit me like a ton of bricks. And I will find myself in a whole in the sidewalk. Looking up at the sky- seeing in it a shade of blue for the first time? Or am I wrong about that.

Is the sky really just that color?

I also am feeling a little apprehensive about going to LA. It’s not so much that I won’t have fun, or love to see my people again, but I’m afraid that the silent sneaking depression that was so present in my life for the last few years of my tenure there, will return. I know I am in a different place and much stronger and smarter and whatever… I HAVE THIS. This thing inside me that I got from coming here. And I think it is probably strong enough to ward off whatever LA can throw at me. But I am still a little scared.

But I guess that means I’m paying attention. Wouldn’t be right if I turned 30, left Rome and moved in with my parents all in the same 2 weeks… I SHOULD BE SCARED. Which I guess is why I am excited to go.

Because I dig that what scares me. BRING IT THE FUCK ON. You know? Lets do this.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Stay the course Chase. Buy the ticket. Take the ride.

I say God damn. I’ll see those bikini clad bitches yet.

GOT A FEW

Pictures from mom and d's visit...

tons more to come, just tossed a few up there today.

tra la la.

MONA LISA’S AND MAD HATTERS

Well, mom and D have been here for 6 days. What a fun fun time. I can’t tell you. So so amazing and wonderful. It was such a trip, and in many ways solidified my experience here in Rome. Sometimes it takes a best friend and your mom to show up to make it all real. Even if it is two weeks before you leave….

We had such adventures. We went to the Vatican (which was so wonderful, so much better than the last time I was there a month ago) and we traveled down south to Pompeii to see the crazy ruins (which was so beautiful but after an afternoon in the south I was just plain THRILLED to get home to Rome). And we shopped and moseyed around and we went to the flea market, and mom bought me THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ring for my birthday, AND WE ATE. Oh man did we eat. Just meal after meal. Sort of a final hurrah for me. Being that I am off so soon, it was just bliss to be able to share all my favorite stores and restaurants and corners of the city with them. And we crossed a few things off my to do list, and even found a few I didn’t know were on it. It was so great.

But now that they are gone it is back to life.

My precious life that I get for only two more weeks. Which aren’t even normal weeks. I turn thirty, I cook thanksgiving (or a version thereof- no turkey- bird flu is a real thing here…) and then I say good bye to my favorite city in the world and I go back to fucking America.

I am totally resigned to going at this point… but I have realized that I AM NOT DONE IN ROME. And that makes me feel strange that I am going. I am very aware that I don’t want to go, and at the same time I am OK to go… I just know sometimes as a grown up you have to do certain things, and now that I am 30 (or at least I will be in less than a week) I must act responsible and like a big girl and do what I must.

It’s time to get my cats home. It’s time to go and make some money. It’s time to be a god mother.

But
this
time

IS.
ALMOST.
OVER.

And I will mourn it’s passing. But I am so grateful and happy and blessed that It happened at all.

And I will maintain and I will survive, and so too will Rome. As long as the Coliseum stands, and the eternal flames glows and my heart beats.

So too, will my love for this great seat of western civilization live on.

However buried under soot and silt and sewer over how many thousands of year… I will love this place, and this time.

“I thank the lord for the people I have found. While Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatters, sons of bankers, sons of lawyers, turn around and say good morning to the night. For unless they see the sky, but they can’t and that is why, they no not if it’s dark outside or light. “ -EJ


And in more un sentimental news my brother is throwing a huge fuck all coming home/ birthday party for me the night after I arrive to LA.

So I suppose fuck Mona Lisa, fuck her mad hatters, Its time to go back to one.

LET THE WILD RUMPUS START

Holy mother fucking shit.

Oh man. November’s gonna be a big month. I can feel it.

I’m such a schmuck. I’ve got this smile on my face and I can’t get rid of it… such a goof ball.

I’m so happy.

Anyway, yesterday I got a phone call and my mom and damaris are coming to Rome to visit me for (what I am calling) a pre birthday happy days weekend… they get here on Wednesday! It’s Monday! I’m so pumped. No time to anticipate… they get here in two days…So it’s the ol’ clean up, straighten up and get ready for my girls. So fun.

AHHHH. Smile. There it is, that goofy child like, just got a piece of candy grin.

Ha.

LOVE LETTER TO MY TWENTIES

In a few days I will be leaving my twenties and entering my thirties. It’s a milestone. It’s a rite of passage. It’s a reality.

I loved my twenties. I partied my ass off in my twenties. Holy shit.

Here’s a look back at a few of the highlights:

1995- 1996- 20
I was still in college. Living at 525 Newbury street with Vicki.
It was junior year. I spent the spring of my twentieth year traveling thru Europe and living in a castle in Holland. It was the first time I came to Rome. Jake and Vicki broke up. I started my senior year of college. I quit smoking. I was still doing theater. I stayed up for 7 days in a row during finals that fall.

1996-1997- 21
Big year. Became a senior in college, turned 21, dislocated my shoulder. My best friend Miles died. Started smoking again. Finished off senior year- began my relationship with alcohol. Moved out of Boston with a suitcase and a jar with a plant clipping in it. Spent the summer in Aspen. Looked east looked west. Decided LA had better weather and moved to Santa Monica. Got an apartment at 1306 Arizona Ave. Met a boy named Hugo. Got a job in the Art dept. Planted the clipping. Got a cell phone.

1997-1998-22 (My golden Birthday year)
Amazing Year. Sometimes I still feel like I’m 22. I found a cat and named her Sally… Formed Chick Pee Productions. Raised 40 grand with the Girls and shot a movie. Josh and Dave Carr lived with me for the summer. Ate Drank slept Jack and Jill. Moved the plant to a bigger pot.

1998-1999- 23
Spent the spring not doing anything to the film. Major guilt. Got another cat, named him Pete. Broke up with my loser boyfriend. Started dating a girl. Got a DUI. Finished my movie.

1999-2000- 24
Brought in the millennium with a premiere of my first film at CAA. Great premiere. Everyone I ever knew was there. I felt like a movie star. I was still so hopeful. Spent the spring traveling to film festivals with the film. Realized I hated the business side of film. So that summer I launched into a documentary on psychics that I never finished. The actors went on strike and I had to get a “real” job. So I helped my parents build their house. That fall I moved into a new apartment at 1450 Franklin St. Brought my plant. 3 days before my birthday I died my hair purple.

2000- 2001- 25
Another big year. Brought in my 25th year with the first of many enormous parties at my new apartment. Drove to up the California coast with my best friend Vicki. Got a tattoo of a star on my wrist. Went to Hawaii for work for two weeks. Produced a short film called Ménage A Zombie. Fell in Love. Got my heart broken. Lost about 30 lbs. Performed my first wedding ceremony. Threw a party that lasted 5 1/2 days. Found out I was sick… something hormonal…And spent the rest of the year on a drinking bender.

2001-2002- 26
The drinking bender continued. Brought in the New Year with 6 of my closest friends from college. Suffered deeply from a still aching heart. Spent a lot of time at the doctors. Gained back all the weight I had lost. Hit rock bottom in Culver City. Vowed to get healthy. Grew my hair out. Decided to get the fuck out of town and drove thru 36 states in 46 days. Made a coffee table book called WC USA.

2002-2003- 27
Felt better, but numb. Got to work. Worked my ass off. Bought a convertible, completely re-did my apartment. Became a godmother. Bought a myself fancy new computer. Threw a few parties. Realized I was done with LA. (didn't realize I would stay another 2 years...)

2003-2004- 28
Started this year by having $3000 of my savings stolen. (There goes last year’s hard work). Did some soul searching and bought a plane ticket to Rome for the fall. Worked my ass off (again). Went to Rome. Fell in love, found happiness. Came home and stated packing up my life.

2004-2005- 29
Packed my apartment. Sold my car. Quit my job. Took a clipping from my plant. Moved to Rome. Bought a Vespa. Found an apartment at 189 Via Panisperna. Planted the clipping. Wrote a book. Learned to speak Italian. “Found myself”. Forgave myself. Ate, traveled, remembered how to smile. Performed my cousin’s wedding, got a job with Medusa Films. Made new friends. Spent all my money.

2005-2006- 30
Few things are certain for me… but this year I plan to go back state side, buy a car, work in LA forthe winter, move to Colorado for a while in the spring to be with my godsons. Maybe spend the fall in NYC, dunno. Guess we'll see. This is much is for sure. Where ever I go, and whatever I do. You can be sure, I’ll take Pete, Sally, and my plant with me.

THE FAIREST OF THE SEASONS

Now that Patrick is gone- it means I am the next one to go. I leave in exactly one month and I am so not looking forward to it. Blatantly.

Obviously it will be fine- but after 30 years of being sentimental and lets-face-it, a bit melodramatic… (why stop now?) I feel all this sadness about leaving…

I keep blaming my departure on the fact that I can’t afford it- and while that is the truth, it’s not about money… you can ALWAYS make money, it’s not that… it’s… you know I chose to leave, and I’m going to. Because it’s time. An I just really don’t want it to be.

I just feel sad. I liked living in Rome, and I liked being a vespa owner, and I liked being an ex-pat, and I liked saying- “I hate George Bush why do you think I don’t live there?” And as I watched TV last night (a friend has a satellite and he actually had CNN on in his house… it was wild)… but there I was, watching Condoleezza Rice talk in circles about Syria, and I just thought- fuck man, I can’t go back to that country- where you have to drive in the lines, and you can’t carry a beer down the street, and works starts at 4 AM instead of PM… and the PTA of America has so much control… I’m just not sure I can deal with it all again.

I guess I need to stop looking at everything like a life sentence, it’s only temporary, if I choose to make it that way… I can be on a plane right back here in a few months if I decide to…

I think I just know deep down I probably wont, and even if I do… it’s never the same as when you left. It wasn’t the same when I came back in February, as it was last summer- NO FUCKING WAY- not even close, and it won’t be when I come back next time… and so, I am, in a way mourning the closing of THIS PERIOD….

And you know it’s fine, it’s great. It’s all ok, and part of being a grown up… and I get it... It’s just sad…to look out my window on a rainy November day in Rome and think that this is all coming to an end.

Ahh Nico said it best didn’t she?

“Do I stay or do I go, and it is finally that I decide that I‘ll be leaving in the fairest of seasons”

Anyway. Megan, got some Halloween Pics up for you… I was road kill. Stupid. But totally fun. Did you know in Europe Halloween doesn’t equal costume? It has to be gory, in fact they make fun of Americans that say “I’m totally going as a cheerleader this year” if it ain’t dead or bloody it don’t count over here… funny huh?

IT’S WHAT YOU TAKE WITH YOU

So as my time here comes to an end, my mind is full of “what next-isms.” I keep thinking about the things I have gotten used to, and all the new shit on the horizon, and all the things that are old, that will feel new- and that which I have attained here- and how much I will bring with me.

First there are the little things- a full set of kitchen knives, choices of plates, more than two mugs… A bigger shower! Being able to control the temperature of water in said shower… wow- a BATH. Wow. And no vespa! My parents house. I have to buy a car. FUCK. I don’t want a car. No way out of that I’m afraid.

Then it’s things like going back to the land where complex carbohydrates are the enemy, and everyone is image obsessed. (Imagine the last 9 months I haven’t heard ANYONE talk about their diet… amazing- so so life altering, I can’t tell you).

And what of TV, and movies anytime I want? And the language… to be back where all communication is possible.

And time. What of all this free time- where will it go? Gobbled up in vacuous LA- land of too many people not enough time?

But life without phone cards, and a real stereo, and my brother and Damaris… And a proper mattress- AND A CHANGE OF SHEETS!!!! Oh wow. So many little things.

But I’ve so gotten used to this paired down lifestyle. Do I really need all that nonsense? No. And yes.

Perhaps I have endured with one set of sheets for 9 months because I always knew, that in a box on the other side of the world, I have more. And maybe I have forgone shaving my legs in the shower for the better part of a year- because one day I will sit upstairs in my parents enormous house looking at a chandelier while sitting in a hot foamy bubble bath… I can be this simple- because complexities are just a plane trip away.

I suppose I won’t know anything until I arrive and it all unfolds. But as I lie in bed- and listen to the sound of Rome outside. Vespas, yelling Italian prostitutes, lost tourists, drunk Irish boys, church bells… god, a thousand church bells… I wonder- what will I miss the most? What is the thing I will want back? Is it in the shower, or the kitchen, or the smell of cobblestones and history, or in the sound of the bells and the motorino’s mufflers? Or is it me? Will I miss who I am here- out on the other side of the world, all alone, the most recent version of myself? Where my oldest friend is someone I met last September… perhaps I will miss the isolation- the privacy. The quiet.

I suspect I will miss the stillness the most.

Is that stillness inside me? Or is it here in this place? Will that quiet be in LA too? Will I find again in Colorado?

Is it in me? Or do I leave it here?

And how much, if any, can I take with me?

FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC

I mean seriously man. This calls for a god damned celebration.

OK- first good news. I may yet be out of the woods with regards to the cat debacle. (see previous entry). Too soon to really say anything yet, but I can confidently express there is a very promising situation on the horizon. Whereby me, Pete, and Sally all arrive safely stateside, and on schedule.

And the second piece of good news, and this one is the doosey… with many thanks going to my brother Carter Carter and my most recent visitor Zoë Foster, it looks as though I won’t have to say goodbye to Rome after all. Allow me to explain.

While Zoë was here she gave me a very wise talking to in regard to my career and my current job and put my head on square (as it’s been a bit wobbly as of late) And with that pep-talk in my back pocket, and my ever techno savvy brother just a phone call away- the following has transpired:

I successfully figured out how to hack into the Medusa network- meaning that I can now receive their emails from anywhere on this blessed globe. (say for example, LA, Colorado.. you see where I’m going with this…)

And then I gave my boss a little talking to- telling him I had no intention of terminating my employment with him, and that I would continue to read scripts and monitor the Hollywood scene for him- only via internet. He, was thrilled by the idea- AND BETTER YET, when he said, “and then we’ll just sort out payment” I suggested in lieu of payment, every other month or so- he should fly me to Rome, where we can have a face to face, and I can… well- come back to the city I love most in the world… for free!!!!

So that’s that. He thought it was a fucking smashing idea, and I, for one am just so damned pleased with myself I would kiss my own ass if I bent that far over.

Seriously. Happy fucking days.

Smile with me world… It’s all gona be terrific, I just know it. Oh and look at that- Chase turns 30 in one month to the day. Good grief.

Buy the ticket. Take the ride.

OK- STAY CALM CHASE

So I just found out that Continental (the airline I am flying out on) DOES NOT accept cats internationally any longer. Gulp.

Neither does US AIR- which is what I came in on, they recently changed their policy. Gulp.

Doesn’t look like very many airlines at all fly cats out of Italy. Gulp.

So, uh…. I am trying to figure this mother fucker out.

Of course I will get them home, obviously it will all work out. I will do anything I have too. Of course. It just might, uh get really fucking stupid expensive.

Awesome.

I’ll keep you posted.

WELL IT’S OFFICIAL

My parents sold the farm I grew up on in Colorado, and they have downsized into a super cute little house in basalt. I’ve been receiving pictures from dad over the past few weeks, and I thought I’d share them with you.

When I see these pictures I know, it’s gonna be great to go home.

ONE MORE THING

I would personally like to French kiss Steve Jobs. My new favorite person. Today I downloaded the season premier of Lost (which I have been unable to watch because I live in another country you see) and I watched the fucking show!!! I cannot tell you how awesome it was. I think that man is a genius. I thinks Apple is the greatest company in the world (kinda). And that makes me very very pleased. Now if they would just get the OC on there my life would be complete.

Ahh, how I love American TV. You really don't know how good you've got it.

HOLY SHIT

Been meaning to write for days, but honestly it is not until this very moment that I have had any time. And even now I should be reading an enormous pile of scripts that has accumulated on my desk this week. BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK visitors. Haven’t eaten at home in almost two weeks.

Exhausting. LOTS of fun, but bloody exhausting.

So first it was Zoë. (Well, technically it was Leisa first- who was here for what amounted to almost 3 weeks on and off)… Then it was Zoë. Had a really wonderful couple of days while she was here. Sincerely. It was so so great. Zoë has been to Rome twice before, so the obvious pressure to take her to all the major sights was totally alleviated- leaving us to do as we pleased. What’s more- Zoë was very encouraging in terms of doing things I still hadn’t done. So, for example even though I’ve been here almost a year I still hadn’t climbed up to the top of the dome in St Peters (500 steps up… and very strange and claustrophobic and hilarious)… nor had I been blessed by the new pope, or gone to this really swanky fancy restaurant I had heard about… all of which we did. It was so fun. Zoë is so low maintenance and she was a pleasure to have in town… so it was awesome. And as always a wonderful wonderful to spend a few days with an old old friend that knows me so well, it really is nice to have friends for a long time. To check out pic’s of Zoë and I go here
.

Zoë left Thursday the same day David Franco arrived in Rome (AKA Amy French’s boyfriend) and the same day 8 of my relatives on my dads side arrived. The fame got in late so I was able to have an evening with Mr. Franco.

We had a wonderful long long long very Italian style dinner. We even moved inside when it got cold. I think we were at the restaurant for almost 4 hours. It was lovely. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see him again because the next morning bright and early I went and met the Carter clan.

My father’s oldest brother Jimmy, his wife Beverly their two kids Scott and Shannon. Scotts wife Michelle, Beverly’s sister and brother in law Judy and Al, and Bev and Judy’s dad- the amazing 90 year old “Pop” who kept up with us all the way.

They were a big group. I can’t imagine ever traveling with 8 people.. and after this weekend I know now there’s no way I could. That being said, we had a really really nice time.

We went out and ate fancy dinners and drank delicious wine, we told funny stories and laughed a lot… having my uncle here reminded me so much of my dad- it made me miss dad so much (ahhhhhh). I hooked them up with a private tour of ancient Rome, and on Sat we went to the Vatican on another private tour, that I went on too- it had been a year since I had been in there, and it really is fucking amazing.

They all left this morning- and even though it was so nice to see them, I was relieved to see them off- if only so I can have my fucking life back. I’ve been so neglectful. Today I did laundry and read, and slept past 7am… you know? It was nice.

Anyway.

I have to admit- I’ve been having some very serious reservations about going home. Well, more about leaving than going, truthfully.

It’s really hard for me. And I’m pretty sure it’s only going to get harder.

I don’t want to leave. I mean all my friends are REAL now… you know? And something changed in me about a month ago. I woke up one morning and realized- I can fucking speak Italian. I mean not fluently or anything- but fuck man- I learned it, and I can fucking do it. It’s one of the most amazing things I ever done EVER. And I can’t believe that now that I am finally getting good I’m leaving. It’s so stupid.

But I mean, it’s official, I’m going back and I’m leaving this place. AND IT SUCKS. All my friends know, my job knows. It’s happening a month and a half. Or 44 days to be exact.

I actually get really sad and weird and kinda choked up when I think about it. Because, I’m not done here- I’m not. I’ve just gone broke and I have to go stoke the proverbial financial fires as it were.

At any rate. I’ve constructed a list of things to do before I leave. It’s surprisingly not that long. Mostly I just want to enjoy the city, enjoy my friends. Get really really balls out rowdy on my 30th birthday, cook an enormous Thanksgiving dinner for my British friends who have never had it before, and you know… eat pasta, read more scripts, drive Luigi around and just try to be present and not miss a second of this.

It’s all starting to close in on me. I know in my heart it will all be ok… but sometimes I feeling like I have to do a lot of convincing of myself. It’s intense. But that’s life isn’t it. If it wasn’t intense for me it would mean I wasn’t paying attention. And I refuse to live like that.

A vafanculo. Niente non e importa…. Sono un po stanco, ma in fate tutti va bene.

KINDA TRIPPING OUT

I’m starting to freak out a little bit about leaving. It’s resolved and it’s official, I am leaving Rome. Dec 1st. And it’s dawning on me that I am soon enough going to be back in the States and this life, and this apartment, my job and these people will all be a part of my past.
And, as is normal with moves like these, I have begun to evaluate my time here- what it meant, what I learned, why and if and how I move on- emotionally physically- etc.
And, as I may or may not have mentioned, my friend Leisa Inman has been in and out of town for the past 3 weeks. (Travelling throughout Italy, using Rome as a home base). But she is leaving tomorrow, and being the dope sister that she is, she is taking a suitcase home for me. Mostly summer clothes, some fancy shit I’m not gonna wear, extra bathroom shit that- being that I have zero minus two months left, I won’t use up.
And packing that bag today? It totally bummed me out.
I mean, I’m excited to move on- new heights, new stuff… the boys (!!!!!!!!!) I’m looking forward to Colorado so much. Kinda freaking out about LA actually. I’m ready to move FORWARD not backwards.
I left LA for a reason, and I can’t believe I have to go back. And that makes me wonder what this HAVE TO really means? I mean, yea, I’m fucking broke. And it’s only gonna get worse- and the only place in the world for me to live rent free and make lots o’ cash in a short amount of time, is LA. And I’ve created this- I mean, I spent all my money. I partied and gallivanted in Rome for year, at some point- you gotta go back to work Chase. That’s just a fucking fact.
And maybe that’s a part of it. Is that I have really allowed myself to be on a sabbatical from my life here in Rome… and maybe simply I don’t want to go back to the “real world”. But it feels like more than just that.
There are a lot of pressures for me in LA. There are a lot of roles I play there. Sister, daughter, boss, employee, best friend, second best friend, oldest friend, college buddy, high school friend, ex- girlfriend, industry wanna be, aspiring artist, apartment owner, fellow drinker, Laker fan, Clipper Fan Christmas gift giver, hell, cell phone answerer, Starbucks drinker, Whole Foods lover…ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
I led a very social life in LA, and truthfully, I hate it. At least I’ve came to. Once I had a blast there, but now, I’m done. And you can’t go back.
It’s exhausting for me there. And I don’t want to have to be THAT PERSON. And yea, I can sit here and say I don’t have to, and I’m not going to an blah blah fuck you blah. But- us humans, we don’t change. We have our roles and that’s where we live and how we play.
Who am I kidding to say that when I get to LA my cell phone won’t start ringing and just fucking never stop. And who am I to pretend I wont love every fucking caller. Because I have history with them- with you. But it’s overwhelming there for me.
And I’m not trying to whine. I’m really not. It’s just. LA is like the belly of the beast for me. Go back and work for the man. Go to hell and create advertising for the most gluttonous society in the world. I spent almost a decade selling shit to America. Shit they don’t need, and they can’t afford. And I made a great life out of it. But I became a numb sad vacant version of myself.
And while I KNOW that person won’t come back- because I’ve changed, I know that. It just seems pretty hard-core to have to go there at all. And I think I’m afraid to get stuck there again. Like if I go back and am in LA, that doing that somehow de-values my time in Italy. Like my time here meant nothing.
Whatever. Most days I wake up happy as shit- convinced I’ve got this game beat- or at least I’m winning. And most days I’m right. But it’s time to get on the road again. Because nothing great lasts, ebb, flow blah blah blah. Keep em’ wanting more... that’s what they say right?
If I have learned anything from my time in Italy, it’s that courage is in the stillness. It took all I had to walk away and sit still, and shut the fuck up and listen.

And I won’t loose anything I’ve learned. Especially once I land in Colorado. I just know from experience: LA is the least still place in the world.

SPEAKERS, RAINY DAYS AND DOUBLE DIGITS

Oh it’s October. We have arrived in 2005’s double digits…. It’s fall. I mean it’s totally fall: Rain, grey skies, sweaters, jackets, scarves. It’s fucking wild.

This may not seem like much to you- but this is the first evidence of the change in season I’ve experienced in almost 10 years. IT’S SO FUCKING COOL. I mean, quite simply I had forgotten how cool mother nature is. Not that I am really in her arms- I’ve been surrounded by concrete for going on two decades… but seasons. How awesome they are- how much more aware I am that life is happening, that I am here, that THIS IS IT, all because it’s fall. Another reason to be grateful for life’s little miracles.

A second reason to be grateful is for a little guy I like to call dad.

My father changed my life, and he doesn’t even know it.

Since I arrived here in Feb- my only source of music has been my computer, and my ipod. And that’s it…. I mean sure Italian Top 40 streamed in over the grocery store or whatever… but as I’m sure most of you know the speakers coming out of a computer is like listening to your favorite song from the speakers in an elevator.

It sucks. It’s too quiet, it sounds like shit, it’s just so frustrating…. It’s like a musician’s worst nightmare… seriously.

Now, when I arrived here originally I bought two speakers which exploded and died the first day I plugged them in. Right... 220, 110. Lesson learned. And back in Feb I was still reveling in the release of all things materialistic… I was thrilled to be free of all my crap, and so a life without speakers was one I was willing to live…. I even embraced it. I was thrilled to be without them (almost).

But all these little sacrifices, no TV, no speakers, no dryer, no closet… these things grow heavy after a while, and we remember WHY we have them in our life in the first place… because, simply, they make life better, easier. Better, in small little ways, that I had all but forgotten. I mean- living in my sweet apt, with all that STUFF. Fuck man, I had not one, but 3 closets. 3!!!! and they were fucking huge. Hell I had 3 closets AND 2 garages. Jesus.

And now, after nearly in year, I have finally learned how to appreciate that again.

So now your like, “ok, I get it, she’s happy again… appreciating her luck, her life,“ yawn… “I mean Jesus, Chase we get it your lucky, what in the sam hell does this have to do with your father” you ask- right.

When I was in Cape Cod my father gave me a small but fantastically efficient pair of Sony speakers for my computer. I was thrilled (not about the extra weight in the suitcase, but for the potential of being able to ROCK THE FUCK OUT… you know- turn the music up and jam out like it’s the last night of your life… (god I live for that).

Anyway- I got back a few weeks ago and realized after carrying these fuckers 3000 miles- they are 110 and not 220 capable.

SO I was resigned to accept my fate as an only partial rocker these days. I had made it this far. BUT THEN, yesterday I realized, remembered, whatevered, the speakers take BATTERY.

I cannot explain. I really can’t. Otis Redding’s “I’ve been loving you too long” at top volume- windows open- music filling my room, cascading onto the street below for even the hookers to enjoy….

Total bliss.

Over speakers. Bliss over sound, music, projection. This coming from a girl who had speakers wired into every room of her last apartment. Seriously….

And so- the rainfalls, the air chills, the music plays, and I realize how luck I am to have relearned what it means, to appreciate.

Thanks dad.

A JOKE

did you hear about the guy who thought he was a moth?

He went to the doctor and says "doc, I think I'm a moth",

and the MD says, "that's not really my specialty, you should go see a shrink"

and the guy says, "I know, I was on my way, but I saw that your light was on"

DOES ANYONE ELSE

Find it funny that two words I can’t spell are business and career?

Without spell-check I would get those two wrong each and every time.

I think it’s perfect.

RECOVERING

Yea I was in the mood for rowdy… and I got it. Holy shit. Not once but twice.

Really fun. Highlights include dancing on tables, breaking a TV in a taxi, walking down via Cavour at 6am (have great pictures), a very very hairy Italian ass crack (also captured on digital film), some French girl named Elodine, and a hung over dog hair that turned into the whole damn dog.

Fucking happy days. Fun times. Indeed.

Would like to think it’s gonna calm down for me… but that’s a fucking joke. Leisa Inman is in town this week- it’s her birthday on Monday, then it’s Suzie’s birthday next weekend, then Zoë Foster is coming in for 4 days (HOORAY!!!! SO SO EXCITED), and two days after she leaves my entire family on my dad’s side (the Carters) arrive for the weekend.

So fuck it. I’m just gonna turn this party up to a nice respectable level. Because I know it, and you know it, and everybody here knows it, and above all, I deserve it. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that this party is about to become a historical fact. But don’t worry mom, I won’t hurt anyone, I won’t even touch em. I’m just gonna make ‘em cry a little. Just by lookin’ at em.

HAVING A HANKERING

It's friday afternoon and I am feeling the grind of a 5 day work week creeping up on me. I've never had a job that made me work weekdays before... no wonder so many people want to blow their fucking head off. Not that reading scripts and watching movies is all that bad of a fucking job... it's just... how do people live without weekdays off? Anyway.

I think I am going to go out and get kinda rowdy this weekend. Feeling it on the deep and down. Somethings just need to be done. I read so many scripts this week, and screened one TERRIBLE movie after another... where do these fucking people with their terrible movies come from? (oh wait, I AM one...)

Anyway. Time to blow off some steam- as only me and the ex-pats can.

There are those that can't do. They teach.

This weekend not only will I do... but they be teaching future generations about it.

ha.

HOLY FUCKING TRAFFIC

For the record, I don’t think I have ever seen traffic like I saw tonight… what normally takes 10 minutes to ride on my Vespa from work to my house took me OVER AN HOUR. And that’s on a fucking motorino… I bet it would have take 3 hours or more in a car….

I’ve NEVER seen anything like it before.

It was so bad I actually thought the terrorists had blown something up, and I just hadn’t heard about it yet…. I mean it was brutal. I still don’t really know why it was so bad… a huge rain storm in the afternoon caused some massive floods and several accidents…

I mean, I guess. It was wild.

Normally you see cars all lines up- think of the 405 right? This was totally different- every possible inch of the street was filled with car, truck, van, bus, motorino… pedestrian…. Each going different directions… All so smashed in that you literally couldn’t get thru…

Italians have a very loose grasp on the whole “block the box” concept… meaning they don’t have one. You know those MC Escher drawings where every shape co-mingles so tightly each going a different direction so that after a while they become one solid mass.

Yea, Italian traffic. It’s kinda like that.

It was like the worst I’ve seen in New York and LA times about 100.

It was awesome.

But at least it wasn’t raining, like it was on the way to work. I got so unfucking believably wet. At one point I was so absurdly wet, my glasses were fogged and my face soaked- the top of my jeans were soaked all the way thru- my rain coat was simply emptying onto my lap. I considered pulling over to wait it out- but I would have been late… and for some reason I decided to trudge thru it. So I said fuck it, and I cranked my ipod to some serious classical music and just embraced it.

I Laughed and screamed the whole way there…. It was amazing. In a totally stupid absurd ridiculous my-kind-of way.

COMMENTS

And to think I almost didn’t even post those midnight rambles… I’m glad I did. Thank you Amy and Roberto… you must have sensed I needed a comment or two. (something other than advertising on blog commenting… hate that)

It seems silly to rant on when Caroline’s parents and so many other have lost everything they owned… so many people lost their lives, and here we wait while Rita moves in… Jesus.

At any rate thank you, you remind me of what IS in LA. And that is most of the people I love most in the world. I’m so lucky to have all you amazing talented bastards (especially you two) in my life…. And that’s the reason I can stand it there for 3 months, or at all.

But I’m not there yet. Am I?

I awoke to a crisp fall day. It seems over night fall has descended here in Rome… Afternoon rains, chilly nights and cool crisp mornings. Work is in full swing right now- so I had two scripts to read today… which kept me in bed with the cats all morning… cuddled up and laughing. Finally TWO hilarious scripts… (I will omit the part about screening the worst film of all time… wow- some people just shouldn’t quit their day jobs).

Come lunchtime I jumped on Luigi and on my way to the store found a Korean market… it was so close to my house, I can’t believe I had never seen it before… I went nuts- tofu, mushrooms, sesame oil… wow. I can home and made a stir fry feast (thank you Penelope for leaving the wok..) Holy yum. OTIF right here in Rome. (Other Than Italian Food… is what that bad boy stands for, it’s what us WOP’s say…)

It was such a small thing, but finding something new today, right when I was all tumultuous about leaving… but damn it was great. Not making me want to stay, or leave… it just, made me happy. Complete. Imagine that. A Korean market making you feel complete. How delightfully simple I can be.

At work I use a PC. I have been a MAC user since I was in 3rd grade. It is a point of pride that finally after 5 months I finally figured out how to change my desktop picture. (Understand the computer is in Italian as an added bonus of difficulty). I put a picture of my godsons up. So no matter how silly I get with my desires to be more, go farther, be different, I can look at the boys and know…they are the light at the end of my tunnel.

Going back to LA is only a means to get to them.

And I can’t wait. But I refuse to let this precious moment pass by.

Everything is just so delicious isn’t it?

PS: Life on Mars by David Bowie is really a great fucking song. Seriously.

I'M LYING HERE

It’s 1am and I can’t sleep. It was a year ago I lied in bed, not far from here, unable to sleep. Tossing and turning thinking about picking up and moving to Rome. And here I am literally, just down the street, a year later, thinking about moving back.

My mind is racing. What will I do with that comforter I bought? How much do I give away, can I afford to ship my vespa home, will it pass a California smog test, should I bring it to Colorado? what I do I do with my coffee maker and TV? God, do I even want to come back? Is this permanent, am I really going back? Do I have to go to LA? Really? Fuck man, I want to go to Colorado, New York, some small tropical island, sure as shit not fucking LA…

The Russian just went to bed. Thank god. I miss Penelope. The Russian talks too much.

I told her today she has to move out earlier than expected. And I told the other girl that was going to be my new roommate not to bother, I was leaving for an indefinite amount of time. She wants to rent my vespa “while I’m gone”

What does that mean, while I’m gone? Do I really want to leave?

I guess I do. It’s just. I like it here so much, and what about my job? I mean, yea it’s not enough money, but I really really like it. I love reading scripts and talking about movies all day for a living. Too bad it’s not A LIVING. That’s the whole problem isn’t it. It’s not enough money it’s just fun. I like acquisitions and development. Maybe I haven’t pushed myself hard enough. Maybe I could have gotten more out of this time…

But what more? Wasn’t this whole time in Rome about NOT pushing myself for once, wasn’t it about resting and finding stillness, and letting my ego rest? Didn’t I do that? Why am I freaking out?

I am kinda. Freaking out.

I don’t think I want to go back to LA. I don’t think I want to turn 30 and move in with my parents a week later. I don’t think I want to go out and watch all the people I love slowly drink themselves to death. I don’t think I want that mediocre life of mine back in LA…

I think I’m just feeling whiny. I think I am just pre menstrual. I think I’m tired and don’t want to have to take a sleeping pill to sleep again tonight. (fucking jet lag… it’s been like 6 days….)

I don’t know. I’m tired, and Pete is snoring for gods sakes.

Maybe I should leave early. Maybe I shouldn’t leave at all.

WHAT A STRANGE LITTLE LIFE I HAVE.

So I am back in Rome.

Got in the other day, and it was really like coming back to real life. I guess I really do live here now.

My vacuum cleaner is broken. I have bills to pay, I need to resign my lease, I start work on Monday. Back to life. Yuck.

Not that this life is all that bad at all.

Got a new roommate. She’s a Russian. Her name is Julia. She lived in Russia for her first 11 years and then in Santa Cruz. Just my luck, a Russian surfer chick. She's ok- not spectacular, (she aint no Penelope) but I think she's gonna be fine. She seems nice enough, and whatever- you know?

Anyway.

It's kinda weird to be back. Now that I know I am leaving, in December, and probably not coming back for a while- I feel weird.

I really don’t want to tell my friends. It took me so long to get them to open up, and now I’m just gonna bail on them? Shit. I mean, sure I can come back and visit… but I feel like a traitor. Like by planning to leave I am breaking some sacred ex-pat code.

This is of course a bit melodramatic… but I do feel this way somewhat…

Anyway- tonight is Notte Bianca. I was here for this last year. Amazing that I am starting to write about things a year later, and still in Rome. Actually come to think of it, I’ve been blogging for over a year, oh and yes, I’ve also been in Rome for a year now (not consecutively of course) but I first came here over a year ago.

What a strange little life I have.

This is from a blog I wrote almost exactly a year ago today:

“I want to be here- I like this life- I want to get paid to write and live in Rome. I want to learn to speak Italian and I want to be an ex pat. I want to be away from all the things that I hate in America- I want to learn to appreciate America again.
I want to live in Rome. And take weekend trips to sienna and Tuscany and I don’t know- everywhere. I want to do it.
I can- I mean- I think I can.
What the fuck? For so long I have come up with excuses- not to act, not to direct, not to do any of the things I want to do- no more.
I want to change my life.
And I’m the only one that can do that.”

That’s the great part about blogging- you can always go back and look thru. I mean I have really come full circle from that. For one thing I live in Rome, I have gone to Tuscany and I am learning to speak Italian and I am an ex-pat… and dare I say it, I have even begun to appreciate America again. (gasp!)

But more than that I have taken the reigns of my life and owned them, taken responsibility for them. And it’s pretty fucking cool. I wish I could stay in rome, but financially it just isn’t happening here.

So I guess that means Its time to come home.

A few more months and then it’s me and lil ol America…. It’s gonna be good. But these days, it’s always good. In fact it’s been this good for over a year now… wow.

HAPPY DAYS

Whoa. What a couple of week. I swear I feel like life couldn’t get any better.

I sometimes wonder why I get to be so lucky. Why me? How is it possible? Not a day has passed in literally months when I don’t pause and realize, I FEEL HAPPY.

Really Really happy.

It’s magnificent. Everything I ever wanted, I have, I need for nothing. I am so blessed with friends and it feels so good.

Being back in the States has been pretty wild.

The wedding was a blast. I mean, top 5 weddings of my life, really fun, really rowdy, really crazy. The ceremony was beautiful… just about every relative I have came up to me afterwards and told me it was lovely, and wanted to know if I had a parish or what. HA!

The late night crowd was in full effect. I will say only this. I have trashed some hotel rooms in my life, but this one takes the cake. It was a proud moment for derelicts everywhere.

The day after the wedding was one of the best days of my life. Me and my family, and the rowdy kids from the night before, my grandpa and his brothers family all in my Aunt’s backyard lighting fireworks in the daytime, eating pizza, hanging out, laughing- god the laughing… haven’t laughed that hard since the last time I was around the people I loved the most in the world… felt so good.

Then I went to the Cape. 5 days in a gorgeous house on the beach with my mom, my aunt, Nikki and Damaris. Holy fucking great. We went to the beach, we did jig saw puzzles (including the hardest one Nikky or I have ever bothered to complete.,) we read, and ate Lobster, we played mini golf… it was amazing. Then my dad and Uncle showed up… It was just SO FUCKING GOOD.

And all the while New Orleans continued to drown.

There is nowhere like the states to make me feel so entirely, whatever this feeling is. Guilty, ashamed, confused, HELPLESS? Man I hate this government.

Being here, I’ve been thinking a lot about coming home for the next year.

I think I am going to be in LA for the winter (YIKES) to work for the man and make some money, and then be in Colorado next spring and summer and maybe even NYC next fall? I don’t know. But I want to be with my god sons more than anything else in the world, and I ache for the country… so I think I am going to give myself the gift of the babies in Colorado next spring. Me, mud-pies and mountains. Happy Days.

But I have to say I have serious reservations about being a part of this country again. I mean, part of me has never left, but do I really want to be paying taxes to a president who makes his vacation in the middle of a war a priority over the single greatest natural disaster in this country’s history? I’m just not sure that’s a corporation I want to support…

I’ve loved being so far away. But I miss my real friends. Being around Damaris is like remembering how to breathe again. I’m just better when she’s around. I miss that, you know?

Anyway. To quote Lloyd Dobbler I “Can’t figure it all out right now sir. Just kinda hanging with your daughter.”

But for now I am in NYC. Been staying with Vicki, spent a wonderful afternoon with Brent yesterday, went to Justin Dragonas’s birthday party, saw a real movie IN A THEATER… New York is fun.

I love this town. And I kinda wanna come here for a few months so I can see my friends for more than just an afternoon a lunch or a drink. It would be nice to actually spend some time with these people. (to have time to see my most secret loyal reader, you know who you are…)

I don’t know.

I do think my new career is to be around the people I love as much as possible. It may not be the most financially responsible thing I have ever done, but at least I’ll be happy.

And man, right now I am. I am just so fucking happy.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. But, what a lucky girl I am…

KNEE DEEP IN THE HOOPLA

So here I am… in Crazy-ass New Jersey. I swear to god New Jersey is like a different country. It’s like a twisted subculture the likes of which gods not seen. And my Aunts house is the zeitgeist. Ground Zero. New Jersey-ites are the strangest people on earth (think Sopranos except more white trash) … It’s all a bit much.

I think I thought- “oh I’m going back to the states- I’m going home.”

I AM DEFINITELY NOT HOME.

Holy fucking shit.

But all that being said, I’m having a pretty good time. It’s fun to be here in the land of the insane. My cousin is getting married in a few hours, and I am performing the ceremony.

I guess I’m ready. I mean, I’m kinda nervous- it’s a pretty big wedding, and it’s my entire family on my moms side. Yikes.

Remember Sixteen Candles? The house the morning of the wedding- that’s us, literally. There are 9 of us at my aunts house, sharing one bathroom, 6 cars, 2 cats, 2 dogs and several hangovers… It’s ridiculous. My uncle smoking ciggarettes and making bacon, Carter and TJ building a sculpture out of lawn furniture wasted at 4 in the morning...( they actually TP'd the backyard) it's beyond beyond.

Meanwhile- New Orleans is underwater, families are displaced, people are being raped, shit is being looted, water moccasins are rocking out with floating coffins- the levee is down and the end of the world is upon us…. And there’s Bush, looking like an asshole and thinking about golf and oil. What a dick.

Anyway.

I gotta go- I have a wedding to perform. Andiamo.

FOR THE RECORD

I guess I've not been very clear, especially if Megan and Amy are confused... you two are like my most loyal readers... so for the record:

I am in the states for two weeks. I am not going to LA. I arrived in NJ yesterday and I will be here till Monday when I go to the Cape with my family for a week's holiday. I am here in Jersey because my cousin Bryna (mom's side, TJ's sister for those keeping count). The wedding is Saturday, I am the minister (gulp, getting nervous now that I am here, can't say a word about being nervous...because, ah, it's NOT ABOUT ME...)

Will be going to NYC tomorrow thur for the day, and going to see Em and Justin, Vix, maybe meggo? Then will be back in the city on Sunday for the same thing... then after the cape next weekend-ish coming back to the city till I leave on Tuesday the 14th. Have to be back in Rome the 15th because I have a new rommate moving in...

THE RUSSIAN. We don't know much about her, american russian, doing her Masters in Rome...seems nice on the phone. Hope she's cool. Scary right? Anyway.Stay tuned bacause the cold world stops: At Via Panisperna 189- Roma.

So there it is, for your voyeuristic viewing pleasure.

Fun times.

IT’S 6 AM

It’s 6:17am and I am on my way to the airport. I was awoken just 5 minutes before my alarm clock went off to the phone. Miss Zoë Foster calling to say, that Emily and Justin Henry had a baby girl tonight (for you, last night for me).

We don’t have the name yet, but we do now the baby is healthy at a whopping 8 pounds 15 ounces, slightly induced, and slightly epidurilized…. But here and happy and god damn it.

So happy for them. So happy I get to go meet the newest family member, because by nightfall I will be in the tri-state-area…

Feeling a little strange- going off to America in a few hours. Jesus. Excited too.

Going to a wedding this weekend, I mean uh, DOING the wedding this weekend, and having some time down at the cape, and get to see Emily’s baby, and see my new found gay friend (go M!) and you know, fun times.

AHHHHHHHHHH. My fucking digital camera broke today… it was the drop that finally killed it.

I’m devastated. I’ve grown so so used to it… feel very sad. But at least I will be in the states the next time I go to sleep. I might just say fuck it and buy a new one. (what else are credit cards for????)

I already miss my cats, and I absolutely already miss my friends and miss my Rome….

Shit.

My friend Julie got married yesterday (Monday I know… weird, here too)… but it was SO MUCH FUN. And a lovely send off if I may say so selfishly.

It’s now 6:23 and the city is waking up, scooters starting, buses driving, metal doors rising…. Noises I will miss. Just not at this hour.

Seems like things ARE changing. At least, today they are.

I CAN’T HELP IT

I am filled with an overwhelming feeling like all good things must end.

I hate this feeling.

I am one of those people who are both blessed and cursed with a hyper aware sense of perception. Which means, when I am in the thick of a moment I become aware of it… this has been a gift and a curse in many ways. Often it has given me pause in a hectic splendid time to reflect, smile and be grateful for my present surroundings… but all the while appreciating that they are indeed temporary… and this time, in my life, will, at some point, end.

Because noting truly great lasts.

Not living with Vicki, not collage, not Shoni, not Miles, not 1450 with Emily and Jocelyn, not poker with Hugo, Brendan and Emily, not the days of Big Al and the ‘back to one’ crew… nothing. It all fades, it all passes… everything grows up.

And so shall I.

…One day.

I am overwhelmed with that feeling today.

Finally I am comfortable here, and with that casual happy, comes the inevitable impending sense that this too shall pass.

Most days I smile, and am grateful that I have been so tuned in, to learn to appreciate such moments as they progress, but today I feel melancholy, and a little premature longing for what I have at present.

Which is a sure fire sign.

That things, are about to change.

BACK IN THE SADDLE

Holy shit the rain. It has been raining so hard here its wild! It’s fucking cold too. I had to get a blanket on the bed, and last night I even got a heated cat bed out for Sally… I’m talking chilly. It’s weird, isn’t it August? July was so unbearable hot, and August has been such fucking awesome weather… who knew? August was supposed to be terrible, not so far! (knock on wood…)

Does anyone remember about a month ago I asked about cold bed for the cats? Well, my friend Kate responded with an answer. It’s called “the Chillow” and it is exactly what I was looking for, a pillow (designed for humans but works for cats) that you fill with water, and it radiates cool. It’s AWESOME. Course it arrived today when I just got the heated cat bed out… but none the less, it’s should be great. I’m sure September will be hot and unpleasant, so they will be life savers.

Oh and get this, don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but my tenants are moving out of my apartment in LA this month. And (for those of you that I went to high school with) your never gonna believe who is moving in… Perrin Elisha.

For those of you that that means nothing to (which is probably every single one of you), I went to high school with Perrin and literally haven’t seen her since. And I get this email from her last month, am moving to la, heard you have and apt building…etc. The NEXT day my tenants tell me they are moving out. Fucking timing. SO Perrin and her man are moving into my apartment. Pretty great. Cuz it could have been a wee bit complicated finding a new tenant from Italy… but these things have a way of sorting themselves out don’t they?

And in other TOTALLY FUCKING FANTASTIC news. My parents, being the real estate genius’s that they are sold the house in Colorado, BUT BUT BUT they found a small Victorian right in town that they are ACTUALLY trading houses with, plus being paid the extra. It’s like the worlds greatest deal ever. So. Even though I will never get to go back to my childhood home in Emma, by next month we will have a new Home in Colorado, and now that that is a fact… I may very well have to move there next spring and be with my god sons. I am feeling the need to be near my boys.

I spoke to Shoni the other day and she put Aizean on the phone (FYI my 2 year old god son) who said. “Bye.” His twin brother wasn’t’ quiet up to the challenge, but I almost dropped dead right there on the phone. And that’s when I realized my god sons are growing up and I AM MISSING IT. And that sucks. And I don’t want to. So, as much as I want to be in Italy, I might very well want to be near them more. And now that there is a home on the horizon, I might very well be able to.

Ahhh. It’s all very exciting.

What else. Can’t believe I will be in New Jersey in like, a week. That’s scary. Fucking Jersey.

Anyway. Jersey, than the cape, and lots of friends. Gonna be great.

As for now, I am going to paint a sketch I did this afternoon, and then perhaps down to the pub to see some friends, and I’ve rented a few movies and It will be a snuggle up this evening.

I feel like I’m retired. It’s awesome.

Also I posted about a fucking thousands photos for your viewing pleasure:

Venice
Lucca/ Cinque Terra
More Cinque Terra
And Cortona…

Enjoy.

C

LITERALLY

Without being too melodramatic, my Italian vacation was just about the best week of my life.

I went to Lucca, wound up in Cinque Terra, and then spent two of the most glorious days in Cortona.

If it didn’t before, Italy really really has a hold of my heart now. I love this country so deeply, it’s kinda absurd.

I started off in Lucca, a small town near Florence. I took the train and arrived mid day. Roberto and Caroline were already there, and the three of us had gotten a hotel together. We had a wander for most of the after noon, Lucca is a small town and the original walls are still perfectly intact… it was amazing. We had a fine time. Realizing one day together was entirely not enough they hijacked me and drove me up north with them to Cinque Terra. Cinque Terra means literally, 5 lands, and it is on the coast up by, say the mid thigh/ upper knee of the Italian Boot. It is the bottom of the Italian Riviera… The area, Cinque Terra, is a collection of 5 towns that were fishing villages, they are essentially unreachable by car, and so you can walk in or take a train.

Cinque Terra is so obscenely beautiful, it was kinda hard to deal with… I mean, good fuck how the hell is anything that magical? So the three of wandered around, ate amazing food, drank Camparies by the sea and white wine by night…

The next morning Roberto and Caroline opted to head north, and I went south. I again, took the train, but not before having a swim in the sea (naked). Holy fucking calming surreal amazing.

It actually kinda spooked me how calm and the level of stillness and quiet I achieved… It was massive. And I realized all these months in Rome had been leading up to that morning in the sea, on my back, eyes closed, alone and silent. Floating there in the sea… totally calm. I had achieved all I had ever been looking for. And from now on is a clean slate.

It was pretty powerful.

So after one of those mornings that changes your life forever, I got on the train and headed down to Cortona.

Cortona is most recently famous for being the town featured in “Under the Tuscan Sun.” Aside from the obvious annoying connotations, Cortona is one of the most breathtaking places I have ever been. I had a deep and powerful connection to that place, and I have a feeling that, in my life, at some point I will live there.

It too was massively powerful.

I stayed with Lisabette and her husband Jamie- who are my dear friend Dede and Missy Brinkman niece/ cousin respectively. I had met them once about 9 years ago at Missy’s wedding, I completely didn’t remember them, but the three of us hit it off so big. They are both retired, living in Italy, ex-pat, cat lover, time wasters. The three of us were three peas in a pod, I’ll tell you what.

First of all, their apartment is so fucking amazing- it’s huge and comfortable and has the worlds best view, and just so happened to be perched directly above the town’s main piazza. (Imagine living above times square, without the noise, people, lights, crime, dirt, violence, Americanisms or ugliness… then, it’s kinda like that except a 500 times smaller and without all the neon).

It was such a fun fun two days. I wanted to stay so much longer, but I am such a sucker, I missed my cats and wanted to come home to snuggle them…. So I ended up leaving on a high note, with an unconditional invitation to return…

But Cortona gave me something I had been missing from my Italian Experience, and that was nature. I went on long walks, and we went out and picked wild black berries, and had a picnic in the woods… and the whole thing made me remember that despite all my efforts, I remain a country girl at heart.

The other thing it reminded me was, how much I enjoy drawing and painting. I hadn’t been doing much of that recently, and since I was in Cortona I can’t seem to stop sketching fucking everything I see. It’s very satisfying.

So I got home to Rome on Sat night, and it’s been kinda cold and rainy since I got home. Which is perfect. Because me and the cats have been snuggling overtime… My roommate is moving out in 2 weeks and so she and I spent the entire day in the house yesterday and made a huge Italian feast for dinner… complete with cake! Yum yum yum!

So it’s good to be home… but we’ll see. I may need to move to Cortona. That town, fucking amazing.

It was a great great great week.

VACATION

As if living in Italy isn’t a holiday enough, I am giving myself a real live vacation next week.

My dear friend Roberto Schaffer and his awesome wife Caroline are in Italy for August- and as I will be in the states when they are in Rome, we have decided to meet up in Tuscany.

Don’t have exact plans yet, but I booked us hotel rooms in an awesome little hotel (I found in this bitchen book of B and B’s in Italy that Gracy gave me). The hotel is in Lucca for Tuesday night. So I will take the train up to Lucca (just 30 min from Florence on Tuesday meet up with Roberto and Caroline for the night- don’t know about Wednesday night yet- maybe Pisa? Siena? Maybe somewhere wonderful and coastal? Maybe Montifillanco where there is supposedly the “best restaurant in Italy” “LA CHUISA” (or so says everyone whom I trust who has traveled this country extensively…- I’d LOVE to go…) then Thursday and Friday I will be in Cortona staying at Lisabette Brinkman’s. She is a cousin (?) I think, of my old old friend Missy Brinkman… so it is like family. I met her and her husband years ago at missy’s wedding, (not that I remember that, but they remember me, course… I had blue hair- kinda hard to forget blue hair…)and anyway, they invited me up, and so fuck it I’m gonna take them up on the offer.

After that I don’t know… come back? Maybe see Siena that day.. don’t know. But I speak good enough Italian now to wander safely. I don’t have too much money to spend, but I have this gift of time off, and I REALLY want to explore this country. It’s ridiculous that I have been here this long and have been out of Rome so little.

I am really excited.

On a side note, Friday night was a fucking blast. Me and my little crew actually played truth or dare… holy fucking funny. The thing about that game is, it doesn’t matter where you are from.. a dare is a dare in any language. We had an Irish boy kiss a Sicilian, an English girl get in a dumpster, and a French dude sing the American national anthem… it was solid stupid fun.

Starting to laugh more. Starting to drop the guard and actually laugh. Starting to really really enjoy and trust my friends.

Good times in Rome. Good times.

TO MEGAN AND WANNA

You have to check out this guys web site. He's is a computer animator from UCLA, and his shit is great... make sure to check out the interactive features... totally bitching.

You don't have to be Megan or Wanna to go, I just think you two will like it.

Check it out.

OH DEAR.

Should anyone want a good hardy laugh. Have a look at first comment on the most recent post.

Three words. Laugh out Loud.

Perfect, subtle, ironic, delicious.

God bless America.

UNTITLED THOUGHT

They say your not suppose to drink water while you eat. They say it’s “bad for you.” Did you know that? I didn’t. I just found this out. Every time I tell someone they say, “yea, I’ve known that forever.” As if it were as common knowledge as sugar makes you hyper.

Well I didn’t know. And what’s worse is I DO IT. A lot. I mean, I am a big water drinker at meals… I’m a fill ‘er up a few times ever go round.

So now, anytime I sit down to eat and I plow thru my requisite 3 or 4 glasses of water, instead of feeling refreshed and quenched, as I have been, for, oh say, the past 30 years. I now feel something that I refuse to associate with food. GUILT.

As if there aren’t enough rules revolving around eating and food as it is. Don’t eat fat, don’t eat sugar, don’t eat carbs, don’t eat after 7pm, don’t overeat, don’t eat too much of one thing, eat a certain percentage of grains, proteins, fats and carbs at every meal, count your calories, and the latest addition: Don’t drink water with meals.

What the fuck? Just wondering, is there any other way we can strip any shred of enjoyment from the consumption process?

I mean, we need food to survive. It’s something we HAVE TO do every day of our life, EVERYDAY. Why have we turned it into such a deeply regulated event, devoid of any pleasure or spontaneity? How many times have you heard someone say after eating a cookie or piece of cake, “that was so bad” or “god I’m gonna pay for that later”… when did eating what makes us happy become such a source of guilt and self disapproval?

The two other things that we have to do every day is sleep and shit. Right? And are there already enough rules in those departments, why must food join these two? Are we capably of allowing nothing in our daily routine to give us happiness? Why must we make every thing so restricted, so stringent, so sterile? Why can’t we just relax?

Sleep needs quiet, dark, soft, warm, alone, together…ect. It’s a pretty specifically formulated daily event. And who hasn’t wanted to sleep in, take a nap, get to bed early, stay in bed late more often? Sleeping has become an indulgence, instead of a right. A luxury instead of a basic necessity. We are forced to deprive ourselves of sleep to maintain productiveness. “But don’t wear yourself out.” What is the first thing they are you when you start to feel sick? “Have you been getting enough sleep? Tsk Tsk, you’ve got to take care of yourself.” As if you should know better. How dare you. To sleep all day is to be a lazy bum. To try and keep up is run yourself ragged. It’s an impossible position. And the result is guilt.

And shitting. Don’t even get me started. Talk about rules. God damn there are actual laws against defecating in public. Hell you can’t even piss in public. And holy hell the guilt the surrounds the toilet. Think I’m wrong? Ask yourself why you lock yourself in a closet several times a day. I mean, when was the last time farted loudly in a business meeting? Can you imagine letting one rip and smiling with pride in front of your boss? “Ah a fart, what a celebration to be the animal that is a human!” yea, I don’t think so.

It’s amazing the capability humans have to be ashamed of that which makes us what we are.

And within that, the desire to better out current status. I suppose that’s were dieting comes from. Not so much to be the best you can be, but really just to be better than you already are. Dieting fulfills a need to feel like WE ARE WORKING ON THE SITUATION. As long as I’m aspiring to achieve perfection, I can forgive my current inadequacies. For now, because I have stripped the fun out of eating, and given up hours of my week in a gym, I can feel better because I am working on it, and only now can I tolerate the fact, that I, am only human.

Now then. What can be said for people who don’t diet? People who ignore the innate desire to improve their current status. Do we assume that hey are guiltless? Is that possible? Do they feel that they’re perfect and need no improvement? I think we can pretty much insure that with the crippling prejudices against fat people these days, that that is most likely not the case. Or, do we assume that in fact that are so bogged down with guilt and self loathing that they have simply surrendered to their imperfections and now survive only to indulge them? I don’t pose to know the answer to that question. I think it’s differs person to person, obviously.

Either way, the fact remains that to eat what you want is against the rules. To sleep in is not aloud, and to squat and pee when you are about to burst is simply gross.

We just don’t want to admit what we are. We want to pretend it’s not true. So we idolize these highly manicured and manufactured images of celebrities. People who are nowhere near the perfect creatures we pretend they are. No matter how much she diets, waxes, plucks, jogs, has entire PR teams primp and protect her, and spin her image… the fact remains that when (insert name of your favorite celebrity here) wakes up in the morning, she has bad breath, she needs more sleep, and her shit DOES stink.

My favorite part about it, is that WE KNOW ALL OF THIS. But, it’s akin to jealousy. We can rationalize all we want, and talk about it till we are blue in the face, but we can’t change THE WAY WE FEEL.

Guilt over being human is brutal. And it crosses nationalities and cultural boundaries. It’s human. It’s not animal, it’s human. Dogs shit on the street and look you right in the eye while they do it. They have no shame, no guilt.

It brings me back to the water with my meals. Humans are 96% water. How can water be bad for us? It’s part of who we are. And yet, why do I suddenly feel like an outlaw when I sip my San Pellegrino with lunch? Why do I feel like I am about to be scolded, or worse that I am silently scolding myself?

Perhaps the next time I order, I should just ask the waiter to bring another glass of water, and this time hold the side of guilt.