More of Me to Love

I've been thinking a lot about how I am as a person. Single, at work, with friends… I have come to the conclusion that I don't do well with people who constantly need to impress people and/or be the clown to feel better about themselves, who judge others to raise themselves up, who must do or have something because, otherwise, what would people think??? I have the carnage of history behind me to prove that point. 

I love who I am. Right now. As a single woman. I am calm, happy, dare I say care free, and no longer battling. No longer feeling less than because I don't measure up to expectations. No longer numb. I find myself getting very irritated very quickly with the "pay attention to me" attitude when I am confronted with it. I turn away, thankful that I have a different outlook, one that I value greatly and never want to give up or suppress for anyone in my future. If I ever decide to put myself out there again… oh, dear Lord, I can't even think about that right now. Happy girl!

Happy FAT girl. Oy! The two plus years of serious depression and depression meds, focusing on the inside instead of the outside, have made me rolly polly all over again. Hello unwanted pounds I already shed! How did you come back so quickly and when I wasn't looking? Now that I am nearly weened completely off of the meds and am of sound mind - well, semi-sound, none of us can say we are of completely sound minds - it's time to think about getting the sound body. Of course, we all know what is good for us. Good ol' fashioned exercise and a balanced diet. Sooo boring. Right? Sorry, li'l pumpkin! No other way around it. Strap on those shoes , get off your ass, and start walking.

After a nap...

The Heat Is On!

So, it's summer in New York City. In case you can't tell by the rising temperature, you can surely tell by the gaggles and gaggles of tourists and smelly garbage and even smellier homeless people, usually sitting close to me on the subway. In a hot car. With no air conditioning. That makes you go home and immediately take a Silkwood shower to decontaminate yourself.

Ahhh, summer is on like Donkey Kong! In a stroke of genius or sheer stupidity, I have decided not to install my air conditioner. I'm moving out at the end of July, so why should I go through that hassle? I can't even lift the damn thing by myself, so I'm not going to risk the hernia. I can tough it out, I thought. I am an adult, I have a fan. It has three speeds, I can just turn it up if I get too hot. It would be just like it was when I was a kid growing up in Indiana. Except without the pool. Or the cool basement. Or the naivete of being a stupid child.

Instead, I go home, throw open the windows - it's hotter in my apartment than it is outside - open the curtains, and place my fan in front of the window. I turn it on. Nothing better than a soggy, hot breeze! Fail. Next, I strip. I don't do this willy nilly nor to any strip club music. I know that's the image you have. As if. Now, I have to be very careful. I face the back of another building with no occupied apartments facing me on the first floor. The second floor is another story. One day - not literally one day, but one of a few days - before I felt the need to strip, I was sitting on my couch working on my photography. I happened to look out my window to ponder an incredibly smart idea when I noticed a voyeur. A middle aged woman was at her window staring at me. My first thought was ewwww. My second thought was, am I fully dressed? Thankfully, that answer was yes. My third thought was how long has this creeper been staring at me??? And she is still staring at me, even thought it's been a good minute since our eyes locked. I quickly get up and closed the curtain. Before I close it, I flip her the bird. Yes, I did it. It's New York. I have become a New Yorker. I told a cabbie to go fuck himself the other day after honking at me as I was crossing the street with the Walk sign. Don't judge me.

Now, instead of throwing my curtains wide open, I just open them at the bottom. Fuck you, old lady voyeur.

The heat keeps ratcheting up. It got so bad one night that I turned my fan up from slow to medium. I fell asleep to a faster soggy, hot breeze hitting my body. And I fell asleep rather quickly, which is incredibly odd for me and my insomniatic brain, so I must have passed out from the heat. About 1/2 hour into my sleep, I am rudely awakened by an incredible clanging. In my sleep/heat induced stupor, I thought the aliens had finally arrived to take over the planet. And my apartment was chosen as their headquarters. I fumble and turn on my light and realize that the blades have fallen off of my fan and are rattling around inside the metal cage as the spindle continues to turn. About 20 minutes later and drenched in sweat, my fan is reassembled and on low. I strip off my pj's and lay on top of my sheet in defeat.

So this is what melting feels like.