Spring Fever

This is not OK. I cannot work for these people. It is not OK for your long distance supervisor to put you on probation and then ask 'What are your feelings about this?' EXCUSE ME?! WHAT DO YOU THINK MY FEELINGS ARE??? You just told me my performance is unacceptable! I knew I couldn't say what I wanted to: "It's none of your damn business about my feelings'. So I tried to think of the answer she wanted to hear..... nothing came to mind. Then I repeated the question, "What are my feelings?" "Yes." I still couldn't figure it out, so I just said, "I feel bad." Please Lord, get me out of this company. Send me to a new boss who will never ask me my feelings, who knows it is inappropriate, and that's what we pay therapists for!

Had she seen me, she'd have seen the tears. There is nothing like failing at a job you are over-qualified for to make one feel bad. This job is too emotionally damaging. These people are worker-bees who thrive on being over-directed and who enjoy the cumbersome behemoth bureaucracy because it creates more work for them. Does it make them feel needed? All I know, they like complaining about the work-load and the minute you suggest ways to alleviate it they shut up and walk away. Martyr, much? The pointless work makes me want to impale myself in the trachea with my pen. Unlike everyone else here, I will not sell my soul to this company, I will not work extra hours for free, and I will not do what my superiors tell me to do if it's stupid. (This seems to piss them off.)

The irony of it all is this: On Monday night, I gave the final exam to my undergrads. At the end, one girl nervously handed me an envelope. She said, 'This is from the class.' It was a thank you card! Half the students signed it--with notes like 'this class was a joy', and 'you are the best prof I've ever had.' Come on! That almost made me start blubbering right there. And then, the next morning I went to work and found a meeting invite from my supervisor, subject: "work standards". SIGH. I got to hear about all the complaints-- how I can't meet my sales people's deadlines, and it takes me too long to make appointments...blah, blah, blah. Now I have 30 days to improve my timeliness and effective communication. Whatever. I just had 20 hardened NYC 18 year-olds thank me for teaching them a required and unpopular class...but it's all on me, not the sales people.

Time to take action and move. I put my resume online for all the world to see and have begun applying. Too bad I'm qualified for nothing. Too educated for entry level... not enough experience in any one field to get hired at an experienced level.

But. There may yet be a miracle springing from this cow pie. I found my dream job, working for the Brits. You can put money in the bank that they NEVER ask employees what their feelings are in the middle of a formal meeting. I've already applied. Put the kettle on and set out the crumpets, I've invited myself to tea.

####
And what of the Celibate's love life since last you heard? Ugh. Ugly. I re-fell in love only to shoot myself in the heart, again. Now he won't talk to me anymore. Again.

And what of my mental defect? I have a new diagnosis! Bipolar II. My doctor thinks this will solve my problems. She put me on new meds. I'm not hopeful, my poor little heart can't take disappointment anymore. Besides, I've heard this record before.

Stay tuned (I've been cycling weekly, so in a few days I might write something happier.)

Nature is a language, can't you read?

Farmer Ted only made me cry once during Morrissey week. Which isn't bad considering I went to the Monday night show with him, when I made him cry. Then on Tuesday, I had to watch him with his girlfriend from the mezzanine. But Morrissey makes everything feel better, for a few hours anyway.

Before the last concert, Ted sent me an ugly text reply to my teasing one. He was upset because I didn't help him move to BedStuy with my car. !!! Seriously, what in the world would induce me to help that man move?? I am not his girlfriend, we have a weird friendship which borders on the abusive, he didn't ask--just hinted, furniture does not fit in my car, he has a good job so he can afford movers, I had friends in town, two of which I hadn't seen in 2 years, AND I had Morrissey tickets for that night! It's not my fault he chose that weekend to move. Not only do I have all those reasons, but there is NO WAY I am ever driving my car into BedStuy! If I never step foot in BedStuy again, it will be too soon. He knows how bad it was for me.

I told him not to move there. Of course, he knows better than I do. "It's the nice part of the neighborhood." Umh-huh. We'll see. Ted's attitude is asking for trouble. Folks in the hood don't mess with white girls, aside from the ocassional "Hey did you see Jungle Fever?" However, arrogant, young, skinny, snot-nosed white boys parading through the neighborhood are different. Especially if someone sees how disrespectful he is to his little girlfriend. I can see him making some smart-butt comment to a dude sitting on the stoop who might jeer him . . . I just hope he has the wisdom to keep his mouth shut. But maybe I'm wrong. I hope so.

Regardless, this is finally it for me with Farmer Ted. (I can't stop blogging about him because he is such a piece of work.) He has finally killed the last of my sad romantic feelings for him. (So I'm not sure why I cried on Sunday . . .)

Although I have figured out why I can't get rid of him. The mildly abusive nature of our relationship feels like family to me. That's why I'm so comfortable with him, and I think that's why I let him in so quickly. What else can you do with family, other than forgive, apologize, and enjoy their company?

[The remainder of this post was removed by CITC blogbots, their calculations revealed that it was too personal. And, made JL look a little too scary.]

Why don't you find out for yourself?

You didn't think I could go without blogging about his 5 night stint in the city, did you?





Je Suis Morrissey?! Only Moz himself would wear and/or sell a shirt like that. Such is the madness of a Morrissey concert! (No stage rushers could get past the security at the first show and only one or two made it to the stage the 2nd night. By the weekend, Morrissey must have told the guards to let the ones he touched get through. So if he took their hand and helped them up, the guards backed off. Quite a few made it onstage to hug Morrissey to the cheers of the crowd. --Photo on the right by Juan Miranda Pix. posted on Morrissey-solo.com Photo on the left by Eric M. Townsend: LoudPIX.com.

Still sporting the Pompadour. . .
Morrissey Week in the NYC has sadly ended. I went to 4 of the 5 shows. They were AWESOME. He played the best sets I have ever heard from him. He wasn't there to promote his newest album, Ringleader of the Tormenters.* He was there just to enjoy performing and to satiate the crowd. And that he did.

Each night he played slightly different sets. The highlights were new arrangements of "The Loop" and "Death of a Disco Dancer", some people were in tears. I got goosebumps. And of course, the crowd favorites, "Please, please, please, let me get what I want", and "How Soon is Now". He ended each night with How Soon. The other exciting thing was that he played some rarely performed songs, like "Interesting Drug", "National Front Disco", and (See the setlist for details below). Altogether, the sets oozed with somber emotion and unrequited love --that which Moz does best. Made even better by his new, exceptionally tight band, which backs him with 3 guitars, a gong(!), Keys/synth which simulate Marr's guitar on How Soon, and, of course, Boz Boorer.

I know, I know, his solo work isn't monumental and life-changing and/or influential,like The Smiths. But his performances are the best shows I have ever attended. EVER. And I have seen an awful lot of bands play live. Even the concerts of my favorite bands were not this fun. He is so engaging and enthralling that all the obsessions and ruminations in my mind go silent. What would I pay for 90 minutes of mental peace and the pleasure of being soaked in my favorite songs? I did pay $75 for one night, $55, and $35 twice. But I would pay a lot more.

Three of my best friends came up to go to the concerts and stayed with me. I had so much fun. We had dinner a very yummy dinner at Yaffa's in the East Village, went boutique shopping in Hoboken, watched movies at home, AND I got to drive to the Hammerstein for the last show with the 4 of us. We paid $34 to park in the garage right next to the venue. It took 30 minutes from door to door, only because of the tunnel traffic. It felt so incredibly decadent!

My friend Paul crossed to the other side, he was veclempt at the performance immediately. He even said "I'm having a sexual experience watching him." Steff replied: "I know. Why do you think we go to all of his shows?" Because, when Moz is in a good mood, his sexual charisma permeates the venue. It's a non-vulgar thrill for us celibates. He doesn't strip or get nasty (except for losing his shirt) he is just SEXY.

*Critics are calling Ringleaders Morrissey's best solo work. (Read the album review)

Morrissey has never sung better, not so much soulfully as with an emotional elegance that consistently snaps the icy, burning words to attention.

Visconti[the producer] treats him as a handsome Latino melodramatist suffering from a kitsch surfeit of imagination as much as a damp, exiled Mancunian miserabilist with a cold tendency to nostalgic self-obsession. Ultimately, Visconti helps transform Morrissey's dogged oddness and phenomenal fussiness into pure magic. Love him or hate him, there's no one better at loving and hating. --by Paul Morley

Here are his set lists from the shows I attended. Taken from Morrissey-solo.com
Oct 28th, Morrissey at Hammerstein Ballroom

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / Billy Budd / Interesting Drug / Shoplifters Of The World Unite / Irish Blood, English Heart / I Just Want To See The Boy Happy / Girlfriend In A Coma / The Last Of The Famous International Playboys / Human Being / I Like You / Jack The Ripper / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / Stretch Out And Wait / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Good Looking Man About Town / Sister, I'm A Poet / Death Of A Disco Dancer / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / You Have Killed Me / Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by Amsden

NOTE: The Sunday show was cut short due to a wardrobe malfunction following a shirt change after Death of a Disco Dancer. Moz was so upset by it when he noticed, that he talked to his band and they skipped to the last song. Poor thing. He was horrified. I don't want to discuss it because the man brings so much pleasure into my life, that I don't want to further his humiliation.

Oct. 27th

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / The Last Of The Famous International Playboys / You Have Killed Me / The Boy With The Thorn In His Side / Irish Blood, English Heart / I Like You / Jack The Ripper / I Just Want To See The Boy Happy / The National Front Disco / Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / All You Need Is Me / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / Sister, I'm A Poet / The Loop / Death Of A Disco Dancer / Stretch Out And Wait / Dear God, Please Help Me / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by Amsden

Note: David Johanssen was in attendance and acknowledged by Moz on either Sunday or Saturday. The band played a rousing cover of the New York Dolls "Human Being".

Oct.23:

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / Billy Budd / All You Need Is Me / Irish Blood, English Heart / The Boy With The Thorn In His Side / Human Being / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / Tomorrow / That's How People Grow Up / Jack The Ripper / One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell / The Loop / Sister, I'm A Poet / Stretch Out And Wait / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / Death Of A Disco Dancer / Disappointed / Dear God, Please Help Me / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by NYCWolf

Tuesday's set was my favorite. But I think Saturday's performance was the best.

Oct. 22:

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / Tomorrow / Sister, I'm A Poet / London / The Loop / That's How People Grow Up / Jack The Ripper / I Like You / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / Stretch Out And Wait / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me / Billy Budd / All You Need Is Me / Death Of A Disco Dancer / Irish Blood, English Heart / Shoplifters Of The World Unite / One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell / You Have Killed Me / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by NYCWolf

As a final note, the Hammerstein Ballroom is a fabulous venue. There are no bad seats, and it was so well air-conditioned, that we had to put on sweaters.

Goodbye until next time!

Stretch Out and Wait

Too much is happening. Two Morrissey concerts saturated with volatile emotion, dear friends visiting on the weekend--and more Morrissey, disgust with Farmer Ted, sorrow for his sweet girlfriend, confusion at work, the best observation ever!, the best students ever!, my mother's breast cancer, new medicine headaches . . . and then, there is this . . . some knot that lives deep inside me unraveled itself and released its dark burden. I felt something strange in my center, a glowy lightness that had not been there before. My friend said it was Hope.

Someone I call 'George', wants to renew our friendship. I still don't believe it. I won't believe it for a long time. Our conversation, so excited, and full, woven with concurrent patterns like a torn tapestry re-aligned for mending, feels like memory. A voice I used to know falls back into place. As if the wretched crucible of my last four years never happened, all gone but for my hard-won maturity. His voice too, has a change in timbre, his words slightly edged with scars. My natural instinct is to run while I still can. But I won't do that again. I will 'stretch out and wait' for good things.

These days, I sit in the middle of a whirlwind of emotion, plans, ringing phones, too many people, dreams, good and bad memories, email, surprises, songs, appointments, and fears. . . fears. There is no time to think, no peace to place myself in events, no analysis here: No slicing or dicing or looking for answers. No predictions, and no calculations can map what's ahead. Time now, one can only march forward and pray to make no mistakes. Blindly, I crash into life. More likely, life has crashed into me.

Called to Serve

My talk with the Bishop has born fruit already. He did listen to me and take me seriously! Since then, late August, the ward has gotten CES missionaries for the first time, started Institute classes, started monthly family home evening, and the Bishop has called me twice just to check up on me, missionaries have dropped by, and I had a home teacher visit. Very, very impressive. On top of all that, he has also given me a calling (a volunteer church job), because I asked for one. (Singles, go talk to your Bishops! It works! They really have no idea what we need.)

Well, when he said he wanted me in Young Women (program for teenage girls), it made me cry. Being the nursery babysitter is the only calling I wanted less. The last time I was in Young Women, I went inactive because it overwhelmed me. So I tried to talk him out of it. I told him how much I disliked the program. I also explained that the girls look up to you and I don't feel worthy. He said he had faith in me and gave me a blessing. Ok, I did ask for it. But now, so has the ward . . .

The program seemed so weird and silly when I was a teenager. My high school friends were doing lots of drugs, having lots of sex, and literally trying to kill themselves, someone was always being sent to the ER ... My parents hated each other and lived on opposite ends of the house. I wanted to die and had to fight to go on each day . . . "and now it's time for our Mia Maid Class! Gather around girls, we've got the pretty table cloth and fake flowers ready. Now lets look up at the pink posters and chant our values". . . I remember the jarring discontinuity between the YW lessons and my life. They were always about marrying an Return Missionary, serving your family to keep everyone happy, and remaining virtuous. Everything was about 'eternal marriage,' 'temple wedding', 'families are forever' . If you had asked me then, I would have told you that sounded like a nightmare to me. (I was a very angry child.)

My other problem: I feel like a hypocrite teaching the girls to follow the standards in 'For the Strength of Youth'. Honestly, I don't follow most of them myself. I prefer to use my own judgement, which has kept me straight so far. But that's not going to fly. I can see it now:

• "Girls, never let boys touch your bo*bs! Even though I might have let so-and-so do it last night because I was tired. Regardless, you shouldn't do it until you are married!"
  
• "I know I have a collection of rated R zombie movies in my house, and yes, I went to the 6 hour horror festival, but you should only see movies that are rated PG."
  
• "Yes, that is a pen*s (google-blocking the pervs) in the Picasso print hanging over my bed, but it is art! And my Jesus picture is next to my mirror."
  
• "Hey! I did not come here for you kids to judge me! I'm a 31 year old virgin, if you're a virgin at my age, then we can talk, until then . . ."

Tsk, tsk. Not pretty.

It did occur to me that this is my chance to clean up my act, a do-over. Ugh, they're forcing me to do personal development at work which nearly drove me to quit because I'm exhausted with the 'growth' thing right now. Besides, I like the way I am. We'll see what happens.

Young Women Rewind

I will take this calling seriously. Despite my whining, I am grateful to have the opportunity. I desperately need to do more service and get out of my own head. As part of my commitment, I have come up with a list of things I wish I had learned in Young Women. Because, I don't know that I learned anything applicable to my life. This may be too harsh, something clearly sunk in since I am still hanging on for dear life to 'my virtue'.

Things I wish I had learned in my Young Women's classes:

1. How to say 'No' when appropriate. Especially how and when to say 'no' to men. That skill would have saved me a few years of agony in college.
2. When it's necessary to be rude, i.e. to stave off the drunks trying to hit on you. As opposed to re-enforcing the docile and submissive behavior that good girls are supposed to always exhibit, teach me to stand up for myself as a daughter of God that deserves respect.
3. What qualities really make a man marriageable: no, being a return missionary and priesthood holder does not automatically qualify a man as good marriage material, nor does dental school. (What's the deal with all the Mo's becoming dentists?)
   
4. How to tell when you are dating a loser.
5. How to get rid of said loser.
   
6. Exactly which sins/offenses need to be shared with the Bishop. (I still don't know.)
   
7. Etiquette for turning down alcohol at social events.
8. Etiquette for serving/not serving alcohol at your own social events. I deal with this by telling my party guests to brink their own beverages. Though I find that practice very tacky.
9. Smart dating strategies. More than just saying "Don't date until you are 16." Teach the girls to avoid risky situations.
   
10. Nutrition for healthy living.
11. How to take care of yourself in a loving and respectful way. The importance of taking care of yourself emotionally as opposed to sacrificing your sanity to serve the family. "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."
    
12. Learning how to love yourself.
13. Career Planning, i.e. don't spend your youth pursuing a doctorate in the humanities.
    
14. Study skills.
15. Teach me the truth, that a temple marriage does not guarantee happiness, and being a 'good girl' does not shield you from pain or tragedy. (I already knew these things in high school, the fact that my teachers wouldn't tell this truth made me suspicious of everything else they said.)
16. Teach me to use my voice to express my feelings and my needs so I don't grow up to be a depressed housewife on Prozac.
    

Now is the time when we dance! Add your own lessons to the wishlist, but don't touch my monkey!

Reel around the Fountain

After all these years. I can hardly believe it.

Exactly what I said would happen, has. Only, I expected it to take longer, and for his sake, I wanted to be wrong. My old boyfriend George, the best man I ever dated and the one I wanted to marry, the one who hurt me the most, the one I believed was for me . . . and now this.

Interesting timing. Last week I decided I was done with Farmer Ted for the 13th time. But this time I called him a pig with a text message to seal the deal (childish, I know). It didn't work. He apologized, I crumbled. . . Then I came to my senses again. I do want to be done with him. I want to leave him alone to wallow in the bed he made with his girlfriend. Obviously, I'm still weak for the men who treat me like dog doo, despite all my better judgement, therapy, education and enlightenment. Beyond scary.

That's what made George so different. He didn't trea t me like garbage, he was kind, and I still loved him. I loved him with my brain and my heart. That scared me so profoundly I couldn't breathe a word of it to him, I couldn't let him know. I couldn't give any person that much power over me. But I let him break my heart thrice, in secret.

In the 'Tainted Love' posts about George, I described what happened after we dated, the second heartbreak. And last year, when I sought closure, I described the third heartbreak, my pain over his unhappiness. The short version: We got together, I quickly fell in love, we broke up, I moved to NY, we stayed best friends and he planned to move up to NY when he finished school, but then he ran off and eloped with his roommate after they dated for one month. It sounded to me like he probably slept with her and then married her to assuage his guilt. I guessed the girl had manipulated the whole thing, he had been a virgin and was very naive about women. But, what do I know?

The woman was not religious. After they eloped, she got baptized. Baptisms for love tend not to stick. He told me last year he wasn't going to church. That hurt me for him too, I knew how much he had wanted the whole Mormon family deal.

All of this happened in 2002-2003. I promised in my posts to write our dating stories, they're good ones, yet I could never do it. Maybe I should try now.

My sister called me last night with some news. "Guess who is single again?" "Your loser ex-boyfriend Brent?" "No." "I don't know, who?" "GEORGE!" "Really. Hmm. And how do you know this?" Through his MySpace page. Really. My sister was MySpacing and she clicked on my empty page--that I made last year so I could email him. There she saw my friends: herself, MySpace Tom, George and George's band. She looked at George's page. Status: Single. All the pictures of his wife: gone. He's had a haircut and looks much better now.

I remained non-plussed. We didn't know the story or situation, and he is still in Georgia. I logged in to see if he had tried to contact me. He had. He sent a message in August, said we had some catching up to do and asked me to email him. So, I did. Then I went to bed and did not sleep. I don't know how to deal with this information.