Sometimes You Fail Non Stop

I write. I write documentation at work. I write creatively every where else I can. For instance this is me, during my cruise working on a story while waiting to dock.

Writing during down time while cruzing

In the Broadway show “Hamilton: An American Musical”, at the end of Act I there’s a number called Non Stop in which the friends and family of Alexander Hamilton both praise and bemoan the prolific wordsmith.

“How do you write like tomorrow won’t arrive?
How do you write like you need it to survive?
How do you write ev’ry second you’re alive?
Ev’ry second you’re alive? Ev’ry second you’re alive?”

This is me to a smaller degree, but not by much depending on who you ask.

If I have an idea I write  or at least try to write a note to myself to revisit an idea later. Trains. Boats. Planes. At a bar. In the middle of a party wherever I am.

However the downside of that is on occasions like today, where I find myself writing so much about the whole fruit, I forget I need to be writing about – you guessed it – the slice.

So for the second day  -er- night  in a  row. I skate in just under the midnight hour.

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Today is Day 6 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.

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Stepping Up!

One of the interesting things about my daily commute is the hill. New York City is not known for its hills. There’s a reason we have an area call Flatlands in Brooklyn and the magical phenomenon called Manhattanhenge which occurs a couple of times a year.. Then you travel north to upper Manhattan where there are inclines that can rival San Francisco. The train station where I exit my evening commute home just happens to be halfway to the bottom of one. There is even a simple marker in the park near one end of the station that notes the area as the highest natural elevation on Manhattan.

Suffice to say at over 400 feet deep it’s a long climb from the subway platform to the street level. Essentially, we are talking a five story tenement building climb.

Normally this is not an issue as there are escalators to help. Two going up and one down, plus a standard flights of stairs. A week ago the usual escalator that goes down went out of service for major repairs, scheduled to be back in service, I hope, next week.  As a result, one of the usually two escalators going up, was switched to a down escalator. There was a reason for there being two escalators that went up. This station is a busy station. Two are needed for the volume of ridership that disembark at the station. Down to only one working up escalator the inevitable happened. It gave its all – and died. So this evening after a long day of work, I exit the train and just know by the number or people walking to the right instead of left that the up escalator is broken. This has happened no less than five times last year that I can recall.

Granted, I could walk to the other end of the station and take the elevator, (yes the station also has elevators), but then I would have to walk that same distance back to continue home. What I save in convenience and accessibility, I loose in time. I don’t consider the trade-off worth it, so I climb the steps.

When this happens I dubbed them my “Rocky” steps. For climbing them is very reminiscent of the Philadelphia Art Museum Steps the titular character had trouble climbing. For like Rocky and his steps at the beginning, I have yet to make it up the entire flight of steps without stopping at least twice. I’m faster than a couple of people, much more are faster than I, leaving my in the smoke of their speed. I have no shame, when I need to stop and catch my breath for a moment for a moment, I stop and wheeze and pant. As I stood at the bottom step and looked up at the daunting task ahead of me, I figured today was going to be no different.

Or so I thought…

Today, I plugged in my iPod grabbed a banister and started to climb. It was Drowning Pool and I trudging up the stairs. I didn’t look I simply climbed.  I felt my first twinge telling me I was going to need to stop. I looked up and to my surprise I was more than three-quarters up the stairs!!

But… but… But How?!?!?  

I had never made it that far up without stopping, I was not going to stop now! I continued climbing. My knees started complaining. I looked up and could have counted the steps if I stopped. I wasn’t stopping. I could easily count I had about a dozen steps left when my lungs started their wheeze.

Are you kidding me? Less than a dozen. Not so easy, let alone peasey, but…

Oh! My! God! I! Did! It!

No, I did not jump up and down like Rocky Balboa. 1- I was too out of breath and 2- while I’m sure many would have gotten the reference, 3 – I would have looked absolutely ridiculous in my suit and winter coat jumping up an down on the pavement.

I climb the steps without stopping! That’s not to say I am going to be able to do the same tomorrow if they’re still down. That’s not so say I will not pray that the escalator is working tomorrow.

But today – today….?

Gonna fly now
Flying high now
Gonna fly, fly, fly!!!!

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Today is Day 5 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up today.
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Wake Up, Shake Up

My eyes opened on the alarm clock blinking at me.

Huh? Blinking?  Crap!

Apparently the power had tripped some three plus hours ago. Luckily my circadian system still works and that’s what woke me. I glance at the burgeoning dawn outside my window, grab my cell phone and see I have roughly forty minutes to get it together and catch the bus.

You can do this, shake a tail feather, Raivenne!

Please note, I am not a morning At. All. So I am still not quite awake as I haul arse out of bed and head to the bathroom for my morning ablutions. I am under the shower when my brain starts to come online at last.

Wait…

Why didn’t the alarms on my mobile wake me, even if the clock radio didn’t? 

Oh for fuck’s sake! It’s bloody Sunday!

Sigh – I’m wide awake now, in annoyance.

On the plus side – I’ve changed my sheets, completed the Sunday Whirl, posted the story that sprang from it, checked my emails and now have an easy slice to submit today.

Even better –  once I post this I’m off to brunch!

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Today is Day 4 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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To Fall or To Rise

March 1st marked the twelfth year of my being a widow. I’ve had no serious relationships in the interim. A friend asked this morning if I think I will fall in love again. I told him I hope so, but I’d prefer to rise in love again someday. It sparked a discussion that the results of I thought would make a good post. So here goes…

We say we “fall” in love.

Fall.

  • to come or go down quickly from a high place or position, to let yourself come or go down to a lower position, to become lower, to become less,  to lose value)

Falling is uncoordinated; a generally unconscious act. No one wants to fall. The body instinctively tries to reach out to brace itself against it. Falling is not something we want to do in any other circumstance. 

Why is it allowed in love?

Now to rise? That’s something different.

Rise.

  • to move upward, to become higher, to advance to a higher level, to become stronger,  to be or become better, to make the special effort.

To rise. To uplift. To  elevate. 

Love should bring you above it all even when in the muck of it.  Does anyone remember a few ago during the Vancouver riots after the game – specifically the now infamous photo of the couple kissing on the ground? There’s chaos around them, you can see police in the near distance behind them. Yet they are kissing.

Vancouver Riots 2011 - Couple kissing on ground

Vancouver Riots 2011 – Couple Kissing

For all that was going on around them, in that moment it, was just about the two of them. It’s him giving her comfort in the midst of madness, still it comforts him as well for her to accept it and return it.

That was a moment of rising in love between two people who had no idea the moment was captured until it was shared across the globe.

Also note: rising in love is no guarantee of its reciprocity. Nor is it solely the providence of romantic love.

  • Ask the parents visiting their newly admitted drug addicted daughter screaming vindictiveness from her rehab room as they walk away praying it works this time.
    They rose up to keep loving her.
  • Ask the caretaker of the elderly sun-downing woman who no longer recognizes him as her son these days. He rises up to love her regardless.
  • Ask the classroom of children who shaved their heads in support of their teacher stricken with cancer. They rose up.

And because sometimes the love you have to rise up to, is the love of yourself:

  • Ask the man momentarily miserable, yet at peace as he walks out the door of an abusive relationship knowing he’s never coming back. He rose.

And that is the blessing, but also the crux and the curse of it.

Because falling in love is relatively easy. I said relatively.

Falling in love is that easy B-. It required very little effort on your part to pass the test. Now you have time for that Saturday Social with your B- and maybe even B+ friends. And if that was all you wanted, then okay.  When you see the Honor Roll and your name was not on it. You’ll always know you could have done better.

Rising in love takes work, compromise work and yes some sacrifice.

Rising in love is not being satisfied with that easy B-. You’re willing to work for it. You give up a couple, maybe a few Saturday Socials. Some friends may tease you. You see the pictures of what you’re missing, but you persevere. When you do show up at the Saturday Social again, you do so with a hard earned A, maybe even an A+ and your name on the Honor Roll.

Yes, rising in love is work, but the pay off is so worth the extra effort.

You do not choose who you fall in love with. However, you always choose who you rise in love with.

So yes, I do hope to fall in love, again.

But then I want to rise.

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Today is Day 3 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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Walk. Chew. Rinse. Repeat.

I’m on the subway, iPod plugged in with rock music. My cell phone in hand as I scroll through Facebook trying to not laugh out loud at some of the silliness my friends have posted overnight in response to Astroglide <– see yesterday’s SOL18 post for that explanation, if you don’t get the reference – among other things, when I feel a gentle, but definitive tap on my shoulder.

I was deep into my personal Lip Sync Battle, giving Steven Tyler a run for his money on that high note in Aerosmith’s “Dream On” and did not appreciate the interruption. Somehow managing to not sigh loudly, I turn to a fellow commuter with a questioning look.

“Hi, I’m sorry, but I have to ask: how do you do that?”

I, of course, do not have a clue as to what the hell “that” is I am doing and state such.

Apparently, I have the ability to not just listen to my music, also but lip sync with it while simultaneously reading Facebook posts and clearly laugh at them.

Really? She’s honestly asking this, non-facetiously? I’m equally impressed and appalled at her single-mindedness that thinks this is norm.

“Multitasking?” I shrug, not getting why I am being disturbed for such drivel.

Rai, be nice to the people, don’t be a Mean Girl – I hear my work wife kvetching at me in my mind. Fine!

“No, you’re reading, laughing at what you’re reading, while lip syncing to the song and still manage to hit repeat on your iPod barely missing a beat as far as I can tell.” She states emphatically.

Uh, just how long has this women been observing me? 

I am a little confused at first, but then I get it that she cannot do those things – simultaneously.

Soooo? I care because…

“If I tried that I’d either be singing the words I’m reading out loud or have to stop either lip syncing or reading.” She continued confirming my thought.

I bit back the urge of my Sarcastic Siren in me that wanted to inquire if she were capable of efficient forward motion in the midst of the consumption of  Wrigley’s Doublemint. Hey, I said I bit her back, but it was a close call.

“I don’t think about it, I just do it.” I replied honestly, “Anything else?”

She shook her head in the negative and we returned to our individual, in my case multiple, pursuits. A couple of train stops later, I felt I was being stared upon. Sure enough it’s her.

“Yes…?”

“Are you even aware that you added toe and finger tapping to everything else? I mean how?”

What is with this chick? Did she not get enough attention as a child? Was she given too much?

Seriously, Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.????

At this point I most emphatically regret having given up coffee for Lent as I am on my way to work and it’s much too early for alcohol, not to mention it’s kind of – you know- frowned upon.

“Have you ever been to a live music concert?” I asked through near gritted teeth.

“Of course!” She seemed offended that such a thing -her having never attended a live concert- could be the case. I could not have cared less if she were.

“Ever notice how a drummer can play two different rhythms on each hand) with his sticks, as his feet strike a different beat on the base drum, while he take cues from – or give cues as the group lead and sings at the same time?”

Side note to say Thank you To the amazing Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters for popping into mind and being the inspiration for this impromptu object lesson. Some of you will get the reference. Hopefully, all of you will understand the example.

“Yeah..” She nods in the affirmative, but still looks a tad confused.

“Same principle. I have no idea how drummers can do that, they just can.I have no idea why you cannot, but you can’t. I’m not special because I can. You’re not less than because you can’t. It just is. Capiche?” ” I finish.

“My dad says capiche when I’m annoying him. I’m annoying you aren’t I?”

“Why nooooooooo! Don’t let the fact that I’m about to plug back into my iPod and ignore you for the rest of my ride mean anything. It’s nothing personal, honey. Scouts Honor! Capiche?”

I bet you’ve already figured out I was never a scout, haven’t you, dear readers?

So okay – yeah, the Sarcastic Siren mode came out with that one. Enough that a guy sitting on the other side of her snorted, loudly.

I went back to what I was doing and I’ll be damned if I didn’t notice her trying to multitask a few minutes later. I shake my head sadly and ignore her.

The guy on the other side of her catches my eye and smirks in sympathy – at least I think that’s what it is– as he exits. I’m just grateful I exit in a few more stops and I can leave her to work it out for herself.

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Today is Day 2 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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Q&A On Any Other Given Day…

…would have me rolling my eyes anyway.

But today I actually noticed the little Q&A feature Facebook added. Under the guise of letting your friends learn just a little bit more about you, the questions are definitely designed to evoke a more meaningful exchange than posting a picture and friends clicking a reaction button.

The questions are deep probing

  • I learned to read when I was…
  • A food I think is gross…
  • I got first place in…
  • If a genie pops out of a bottle and grants me wishes, I would wish for…

Yes, my tongue was planted firmly in cheek when I typed “deep probing”.

The call of my not so inner Sarcastic Siren would not be denied. I simply had to respond to some of this drivel. Or as I stated on my facebook page:

What's with these stupid facebook questions? I think I'm going to answer some of them, what could happen... *wicked grin*

We’re talking my prurient mind where down in the gutter is several steps up for me on a good day.  I was bored today and started answering a few of them.

So what could happen, you ask? This…

My facebook friends seem particularly amused about the Astroglide.  Not all of them have caught on that I’m being more of Un merdeux than usual. Adds to the fun.

Either way – I suspect I am going to be amusing them, and myself, for a while with these.

Facebook – look what you made me do!

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Today is Day 1 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.

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Priorities

A couple of weekends ago, many fans of the rock band Avenged Sevenfold were really upset when the band did not appear to open for Metallica in Philadelphia. The band was forced to cancel when guitarist Synyster Gates’ wife went into labor and he flew home to be present for the birth of their first child. I can only imagine how much worse the discord would have been had it been a member of Metallica.

Coach Sarunas Jasikevicius, a former NBA player with the Indiana Pacers and current head coach for Žalgiris Kaunas of the Lithuanian League was being questioned by a reporter for allowing one of his players to leave, during the midst of his team’s semi-finals games nonetheless, to attend the birth of his first child. Firstly, Jasikevicius’ initial expression was priceless. You could all but hear him think Did that asshole really just ask me this bullshit?  His spoken response was condescending to the reporter, but frankly he had it coming. It was a stupid question, clearly intended to start some drama, that backfired and the reporter ended up getting schooled as the kids say.

https://youtu.be/XyLO3els0Zc

Life happened, literally.

Granted, musicians only tour every few years as new music drops. Concert fans can pay a lot of money to view their favorites bands live, still it was a concert.

Sports fans have more potential for access to their favorite players and when it’s crunch time I understand fans want the best players front and center, still it was a game.

This is playing a semi-final game or performing at a concert compared to bringing new life into the world for the first time. I might have more sympathy to those upset by this were it the third, fourth, fifth baby. Clearly you get how it works by then, but the for first time. If the partner has the chance to be there, and s/he wants to be there, then s/he should be there – period.

I would have liked to hope that even most those who choose not to have children, or those who have been there done that, can at least have some empathy, but as always, social media snatched the rose-colored glasses off of that fantasy — quick.  That this is even a question for some people as to why at least a first time-parent would want to drop everything and be there, honestly kind of appalls me.

Kudos to the fans in Philly who were understandably disappointed, but took it in stride. Kudos to Jasikevicius who understands that a player’s personal needs will sometimes trump his professional ones.

Priorities:
— Some people have them.
— Some people at least understand them.
— Some people really need to seriously get theirs in order.

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Writing Our Lives #52essays2017 Challenge – Week 21

52essays2017

A year-long weekly personal essay/memoir/creative nonfiction writing challenge. To learn more about this challenge or to participate, check out Vanessa Martir’s website and learn about it.

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Rocking Numbers

Let’s see who among you have been paying attention: Who is my favorite band?

Metallica stage at MetLife Stadium

Happy Mother’s Day to me! Metallica stage at MetLife Stadium 05/14/17 

!! METALLICA !!

And who is in the tri-state area this week? Yup, Metallica! Being the hard rocking mama I am, of course I saw them this weekend as the played Mother’s Day; VIP section naturally.  Oh, how I love those guys! So worth the temporary tinnitus!

At some point in the concert James (Hetfield co-founder, lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist for the band — for those who don’t know), asks the audience who wants to here some old school Metallica from the early 80’s. A friend seated next to me promptly announced that she had not been born yet.

A woman sitting on the other side of my friend appalled by her relative youth visibly cringed “God I feel old.”

I laughed, rolled my eyes at my friend and told her to shush, reminding her that she was younger than my children. Granted, it is only by a couple of years, but technically years younger.

“You can’t be that old stop it. I know, because I’m pretty up there.” She shrugged clearly thinking herself the matron among the three of us.

I took a good look at her, figuring she was in her very late 30s and grinned “I guarantee you, I am older than you.”

Numbers were shared and as I figured, not only was I older than she, but by nearly a decade (I am a month younger than James Hetfield – for comparison).  She was gobsmacked to say the least.

I grinned whipping my purple curls around as the opening notes of “Whiplash” sounded.

“Hey, this just means we have plenty of years left to rock out and we’ll look damn good doing it!”
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Writing Our Lives #52essays2017 Challenge – Week 20

52essays2017

A year-long weekly personal essay/memoir/creative nonfiction writing challenge. To learn more about this challenge or to participate, check out Vanessa Martir’s website and learn about it.

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The Color of Numbers

We are in Week 19 of the year 2017 and in that time twelve transpersons of color has been murdered in the United States.

Last Thursday Brenda Bostick, a 59-year-old Black transgender woman, died from an attack on Tuesday April 25th in Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood. She is at least the twelfth trans person murdered this year in this country alone – all of them women of color, one Native and eleven Black. The others are Mesha Caldwell, Jamie Lee Wounded Arrow, JoJo Striker, Tiara Richmond, Keke Collier, Chyna Gibson, Ciara McElveen, Jaquarrius Holland, Alphonza Watson, Symone Marie Jones and Chayviss Reed.

Think about it: That is roughly every 10 days. Let me repeat that – Every. 10. Days. We are not even at the halfway point of this year. What does that portend?

According to the Human Rights Campaign there were at least 21 deaths in 2015 and 27 deaths in 2016 of transgender people due to fatal violence.  Bostwick was attacked on April 25th, today is May 9th, fifteen days. By this unfortunate barometer, someone has been attacked – the question is how soon will we be reading – watching – hearing about the murder of yet another transperson of color?

Please note the use of “at least” in all of the numbers given, for they only represent the murders against transpersons that we know of for a certainty. Only the heavens know how many other murders, which have slipped under the radar, have actually occurred.

The victims of this violence are overwhelmingly transgender women of color, who live at the dangerous crossroads of transphobia, racism and sexism which often lead to high rates of poverty, unemployment, and homelessness. And some of these homicides have not yet been identified as hate crimes due to lack of information about the perpetrators or motives.

It has been reported that LGBT+ people are more likely to be targets of hate crimes than any other minority group, and within that group the percentage of these crimes of misogyny, racism and LGBT+ against trans-people are higher and rising.

It is an ironic dichotomy that while this country has becomes more openly accepting, it has undeniably also become more openly hateful and worse more openly violent in its hate.

Are crimes against people of color, women, gays and/or trans new? Of course not. What is news is even with the documented increase of violence against transgender people at an all-time high and potentially rising, national media coverage is severely lacking. I’m minded of the song “Small Circle of Friends”.

“Oh look outside the window, there’s a woman being grabbed
They’ve dragged her to the bushes and now she’s being stabbed
Maybe we should call the cops and try to stop the pain
But Monopoly is so much fun, I’d hate to blow the game
And I’m sure it wouldn’t interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends”

While the protest song covered several events as commentary on human apathy, it song was inspired by the case of a woman who was stabbed to death outside her home in Queens, New York, while dozens of her neighbors reportedly ignored her cries for help. That the woman then was presumably CIS and the women now are trans make no damn difference.

The point of it being if it’s not in our own back yard many don’t want/care/are afraid to acknowledge it. I live in NYC, where there is a heavy LGBT+ influence. These deaths were of note here before Brenda Bostick’s murder in Chelsea, a neighborhood of New York City, placed her in our proverbial, if not literal, backyard. That these murders happen anywhere is horrific enough, having one happen here in the city of The Stone Wall Riots, a place pretty much considered the birthplace of gay liberation and LGBT+ rights, it seems especially galling.

In a sequitur/non-sequitur Sunday was the MTV Movie & TV Awards. In an unprecedented move MTV removed genders from all of their categories. Men, Women and Non-Binaries competed against each other for the honors. I’m waiting for the day when the news reports on a male, female or non-binary event it will be reported without the “trans” modifier. Not because I do not want to talk about transgender, but because what happens to a man, a woman, or a non-binary, that the person is also transgender should not matter.

It is an unfortunate fact that stigma based on sexual orientation is still widespread. I know there are documents, commentary etc. covering the myriad psychologies of those who commit these types of crimes.  None of it excuses it. Preaching to the choir, hiding it from the news, not talking about it and/or outright dismissing it, will make these murders go away. Public education, policy change and community efforts are needed to address this. Overcoming these prejudices will take a lot of work. A LOT of work.

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Writing Our Lives #52essays2017 challenge – Week 19

A year-long weekly personal essay/memoir/creative nonfiction writing challenge. To learn more about this challenge or to participate, check out Vanessa Martir’s website and learn about it.

 

Art and Dollars and Sense

Was speaking with a friend regarding how I like going to galleries to see all the different kinds of art out there and how much I wish I had the funds to purchase some. The discussion eventually lead to the following question —

Do you need to agree with an artist’s lifestyle or politics to appreciate their art? To spend money on it?

No, I do not have to agree with an artist’s personal views to appreciate the art.   What’s the joke…? I don’t know what art is, but I know what I like.  Often times I see/hear/read the art long before I know the views/lifestyle of the artist anyway and have made my own opinion of the art. The last time I checked, artists are people and definitely have their own opinions and theories on any variety of subjects, as I have mine.  There are going to be differences of opinion. Little of which has bearing on whether how I will perceive the person’s respective arts.  If it moves me, it moves me.

So many people liked Tom Cruise’s body work until he became outspoken on Scientology (and the infamous couch jump on Oprah). Okay, he was (is still?) an ass personally. The backlash was odd and misplaced. So many could not separate the man from the various movie characters. It is interesting now that his personal life is such horrid gossip fodder, the general opinion on his acting ability seems to be rising again.  It is/was the same with Mel Gibson and Clint Eastwood. Providing Gibson can keep his rants to minimum, and Eastwood sticks to being a rambling curmudgeon only between “Action!” and “Cut!”, that is. I suspect the same will happen with them as well, as people tend to forget/stop caring quickly enough if you let them.  That’s not to say given their respective faux pas, I would never see a movie either are in again because of it.  I know I would simply because I respect their work as actors, if not necessarily the current state of who each is as a person right now.

To spend money on it, though?  Well, that has a caveat or few.

I have a friend who will not purchase anything from a particular band because he despises the lead singer’s political views. My friend loved the band’s music, all the way until he learned of the singer’s view. Now it is all about how the band sucks.  He can’t bring himself to separate the art from the artist.  Now, I agreed the artist is a jerk, however, this artist continually has songs that impressed me in spite of my opinion of him personally. As long as that continues, I can support his artistic work.  If it moves me, it moves me.

As a woman of color in America, should I discover that a sculpture I simply adored and am seriously considering its purchase was created by a staunch, outspoken  member and defender of the Ku Klux Klan, it would certainly give me pause.  As I stated before, it would not stop me from appreciating the beauty of the art, but I cannot knowingly aid someone in a cause I am solemnly against.  If I have already purchased the item before I made the discovery, I would not return it.  I would not be happy for quite the while of my accidental contribution to the cause, but I’d eventually get over it. And knowing me I’d likely have an anecdote along the lines “it’s amazing how could someone so ugly could create something of such beauty”.

After all, if it moves me, it moves me.

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Writing Our Lives #52essays2017 challenge – Week 17

A year-long weekly personal essay/memoir/creative nonfiction writing challenge. To learn more about this challenge or to participate, check out Vanessa Martir’s website and learn about it.