The Promise of a New Year

Okay, so I paraphrased a Sting song, which makes me officially uncool, but I'm unnaturally optimistic about 2008. For some reason, even-numbered years are always better for me. I should get a t-shirt that reads: "I survived 2007 and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." But instead of dwelling on the negatives...divorce, broken heart, a baby that was not meant to be, and unemployment -- a sense of elation sweeps over me when I contemplate the positives: my great friends, job, new adventures, health, and family. The chance to start over and fly like an eagle. Still, I gladly bid this year adieu, grateful for the character and wisdom its granted me, but hoping for a more serene 2008.

Giving Thanks

Another day of gorging on food that so many dare to dream of, the self-flagellating for going off the wagon on our diets, another American paradox of gluttony and excess. Yet a guest of my sister-in-law's mentioned this was her favorite holiday because it is about showing gratitude in the purest of terms, devoid of religion, cultural, or class bias. Why shouldn' t we give thanks everyday, not because some religious exiles from England landed on Plymoth Rock and supposedly feasted with the indigenous peoples, a story debunked as an urban legend.

As my strangest year is coming to an end, I realize that I am incredibly blessed. We all are blessed. For the air we breathe, the ground we walk on. When you get down to the mechanics of it, the human body is an amazing, self-regulating machine. And I should be grateful when I wake up and take a breath, even in a body that is a bit older, slower, or heavier.

In an odd way, this rollercoaster of 2007 has been a journey for me to discover my true self, away from the distractions of a relationship. I may be without a mate, but I'm certainly not alone. In addition to making new friends and reconnecting with old ones, I've re-discovered and enjoyed my own company, away from the agendas of others. It's given me renewed appreciation for my oldest friends and seek the company of those who nourish and nuture, rather than deplete me. I've learned that I still have a ways to go in learning to live for myself. Old habits die hard -- they took years to build, and will take years to undo. But the human spirit is dynamic, versatile, and capable of evolution at any age.

As I'm about to embark on a journey, I face the New Year with fear and excitement, both emotions built on energy, not depression or lethargy. I may be living alone in a new city for the first time in my life, and it's the opportunity of a lifetime, for me to continue development, to individuate, to explore. It's like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and I can choose to either a) be pushed off, b) let it slowly erode over time and crumble, or c) take a swan dive and soar.

You chose "C" too, didn't you?

My Birthday Week!

Being in summer, I view my birthday as a halfway point. And let me tell you, I took quite a beating the first half of '07. Nothing disastrous, but personal and financial matters. But if my birthday week is any future indicator, I'm looking forward to my better half of 2007!

*I get an email stating I've been made Yelp Elite. For all you non-Yelpers, I'll explain. Like being made part of the cool kids club, or making partner at your law firm.

*My review of Zeitgeist gets Yelp "Review of the Day"! You're basically queen for a day, get lots of cheers from fellow Yelpers, etc.

*After an awesome, albeit grueling daylong interview with Gilead Sciences, they offer me the position of Scientific Communications Manager. Oh, and because I seemed to have pulled the wool over my eyes, they offer me $15,000 more than I ask for!

*Lovely dinners with friends, old and new. Nice group dinner with the girls. J took me out to dinner to celebrate my bday, job, and watching Kali. It means the world to me that he's speaking to me again.

Looking forward to the new gig. May go to LA for a few days to see old friends. Have been out a few times with T, so far, so good. Feeling very, very lucky.

RIP to a Good Man

Today marks the 14th anniversary of my father's passing. We lost him suddenly, too young, without warning. A brilliant, sensitive, "nice guy." Yes, we had our disagreements and didn't see eye to eye, but I could tell we were created from the same cloth. I miss him.

Taking a Bite of the Big Apple

Ah, New York... Magestic, magical Gotham, open 24-7, a hubub of manic activity. I love your subways and streets, your bridges, your taxis, your opinionated peeps who speak their mind and dare to utter words that PC-bound San Franciscans shudder to think. I just returned from a whirlwind trip to the Big Apple and am spellbound. When I visit NYC, I typically shun the tourist traps: Statue of Liberty, Empire State, Ellis Island. I prefer to walk its streets, ride its subways, while away the day in its numerous parks, drinking in its essence . Never have I felt that a place "got" me. People are always surprised when I cite NY as my favorite city. "But you're so mellow and meek." Exactly, so I travel to ESCAPE my rather dreary self. Forget long walks on the beach, I crave stimulation, intensity, excitement. I love its extremes. Ninety degree weather and thunderstorms. Back in SF, it's 60 and foggy. In NY you can be yourself. You can ride the subway with a vexed look on your face, considered criminal in sunny CA and subject to a fine by the happy police. I love dancing the night away until 4 am with tranny burlesque dancers on the lower East Side. Flirting with 22-year-old hipster boys in Williamsburg. Eating Polish for brunch in Greenpoint and Egyptian for dinner in Queens. Attribute it to my childhood in Oakland but I thrive in chaos and quiet unsettles me. If cities were like men, New York would be the irresistible bad boy: gritty, a bit unreliable, and full of surprises.

Today I Found Myself

I'm about 8 oz, 4 gigabytes, and 700 hours of 15 years of memories. Of course, I'm talking about my precious I-pod, MIA since November and presumed lost to me forever. Oh the power I've bestowed on such a little device. When I moved from Los Angeles last year, I downloaded ALL my music to this contraption and unloaded my CDs for $100 at Ameoba. No, computer geeks, I did not back up. You give me too much credit for presence of mind and technical savvy.

As many of you know, I've had quite a ride this year. A painful separation ending a relationship of 8 years, living on my own, a tumultuous new relationship that ended in heartbreak, and being laid off. I've never felt so naked, babe-in-the-woods, lamb who's lost her way, since well, I was pulled kicking and screaming from the womb on a hot July day thirtysome-odd years ago. Alone for the first time in years, no prospects, no job. Being separated from my ipod was just another cruel technicality. All my memories stored in songs that could take me back to my senior prom 1989, Boston 2002, or Los Angeles 2004.

So today I was washing my car, one of my errands in preparation for a heavily anticipated trip to New York. I'm embarrassed to say what a rare and monumentous event (the car washing) is, but it has not been the first time in 8 months. And I had scoured, turned my car, apartments, bags upside down for it. But it was in my car, under the seat the entire time. Like my soul and identity it's always been with me, but it took me awhile to find.

Sick as a Dawg

Last night I was up with fever and chills until 5 am. This is not a pity party, or an attempt to elicit sympathy. To be honest, I don't mind. Of course, it couldn't happen during a worse week, as I've got two client deadlines pending. But I rarely get sick. Not since a head cold in 2005.

I view it as an internal cleansing, as my body's way of telling me to slow down, and shed the poison from my system. The past 6 weeks has been a flurry of events, trying to get my mind off a certain someone, and prove that I'm a tough ass and don't "need him." My therapist pointed out that I've been trying to skip steps in the mourning phase, and I need to properly grieve. Maybe it's my body's way of grieving since my mind won't let me. And fever, chills, sore throat feels a thousand times better than psychic pain.

Am I a Cougar?

Recently, it has come to my attention that I may qualify as a "cougar." For the uninformed, the eponymous site celebrating the cougar lifestyle, defines it as "it's a sophisticated species of female who seeks the pleasure of younger males. " In "sophisticated" they mean "over 35" and "pleasure" they mean "bow chicka bow," then maybe I am a cougar, an identity I do not proudly epouse. Yes I am 35*, a divorcee, and currently dating a younger man. However, I am a young 35. Typical of most San Franciscans, I suffer from arrested development. While I have never attending Burning Man, I can still discern between trance, garage, breaks, and downtempo. My bank balance hovers under $100 between the first of the month (when my rent is paid) and mid-month (when rent comes in). I still get carded at Trader Joe's and Zeitgeist. They call me "honey" or "sweetheart" at the doctor's office and bank.

I found further relief from my distress of being a cougar when interviewing several of my friends on the subject. They assured me that while regional definitions do vary, the concept of "cougar" embodies more of a Mrs. Robinson-type, 40ish divorcee, spending her ex-husband's alimony on Botox, tanning salons, and Lexus SUVs while she cruises the college bars for young studs. She may find her conquests in more familiar terms such as her tennis instructor or her son's fraternity brothers.

While I don't picture myself quite in this niche, as a woman closer to 40 than 25, I applaud the growing acceptance of May-December romances, positioning the female as the "December." (Thank you Demi Moore.) Woman my age look damn good. None of my friends over 30 looks her age. All are beautiful, sexy, luscious, and fun. And confident of themselves and accomplished. Maybe younger men are starting to appreciate this now. Hopefully their older counterparts can catch up. Grrr!!

*Postscript: Apparently, my status as an under-40 classifies me in the "puma" category.*