March 2012
2 posts
I’m the single mother of an eleven year old boy. Single in the truest sense. My son has never met his father, and I’ve never received a dime. Fine. I’ve made peace with this and live a full and (mostly) happy life. And for a long time, the boy did, too. But lately, he’s been noticing the loss of the father he will never know, and this makes me sad.
Little League isn’t helping. When we arrived at...
Tonight was the first Little League parent meeting.
The coach asked for volunteers to come help out during practice. I volunteered and was told it’s really a job for a dad. Oh, but I can help out in the snack stand.
I just can’t even.
February 2012
22 posts
I'm angry about something I read on the internet,
so I sat down to write a response, but then I remembered I have Guinness and don’t need to justify my beliefs.
If time moved at the speed of a Sunday night spent in solitude, I might have the time to do the things I say I’ll do. Sunday night time is slow time, quiet time, thinking time, me time. Sunday nights begin with the hope of productivity and end in empty liquor bottles and a reduced Netflix queue. Time isn’t the problem.
I never do the things I say I’ll do.
The energetic cost of...
The unmistakeable combination of laziness and nostalgia inspired me to wander to the office vending machine where I purchased a can of Pepsi and a bag of Fritos. With greasy fingers and a scratchy throat, I am seven-years-old and sitting in the back of my dad’s Mustang approaching the Verrazano Bridge on our way to visit cousins on Staten Island. The windows are down and Springsteen is...
2 tags
Dying alone is the worst. Even if you’re surrounded by family, unless one of them dies of a heart attack or brain aneurysm while watching you die, you’re guranteed an eternity of solitude. There are things worse than an eternity of solitude. Dying in a car accident isn’t as bad as spending the rest of forever with the asshole drunk driver who killed himself while killing you....
She pushed her crooked thumb against the inside of my wrist, cocked her head to the side and whispered, “Night time is for sleeping. Day time is for working.”
I was sitting on a metal folding chair in the back room of a market on Mott Street, surrounded by elderly Chinese women and dead, hanging ducks. I had gone to this room at the urging of my then-roommate, who was equal parts health nut and...
Most of the messages sent to my several email accounts are junk mail, the result of inadvertently signing up for mailing lists and then being too lazy to click the “Unsubscribe” button found at the very bottom of the ensuing emails. I receive emails from every place I’ve ever purchased anything ever. I’ve made a lot of purchases and so have a lot of emails. I usually just delete these emails...
The Internet is Not a Serial Killer
stuartgt:
It is however, meeting someone for the first time after reading their words for years, chatting about all manner of things, drinking a beer or two from small glasses and enjoying their company immensely.
Thanks Christa, the woman behind the words is a genuinely nice person.
Last night, I had drinks with the internet and no one died. Although, I was tempted to kill the bartender...
1 tag
If she stretched her hand and looked at it a certain way, she could almost remember the space between his shoulder blades.
If she closed her eyes and thought hard enough, she could almost feel his skin on her palm - warm, soft, comfortable.
If she made the room just the perfect shade of dark and arranged the now-unused pillows beside her, she could almost see his shape in bed as it was before.
...
1 tag
I REGISTERED FOR THE CHICAGO MARATHON!
I’m officially part of team The INTERNET!
Earlier in the evening, I wrote that thing about the heartbeat hypothesis. “It speculates that all living creatures - humans, hamsters, turtles, giraffe -all have the same number of heartbeats in a lifetime.” I liked the alliteration of “humans” and “hamsters.” Also, I have a hamster. I’m allergic to cats and not quite ready for the commitment of a dog, so when the...
Beat. They settled onto the couch and into silence. Beat. Dinner had been eaten, dishes washed. Beat. After a time, she broke the silence. Beat. “Have you ever heard of the Heartbeat Hypothesis?” Beat. He had not, at least not that he could recall. Beat. “It’s interesting.” Beat. “It speculates that all living creatures - humans, hamsters, turtles, giraffe -all...
Truthful Tuesday: Six Questions.
Every night, I ask myself the following questions:
1. Did I use drugs?
2. Is the boy safe?
3. Am I sleeping inside?
4. When I was hungry, was I able to eat?
5. Did I contribute something positive to the universe?
6. Do I want to wake up tomorrow?
Those questions, in that order, every night.
The answers change more often than I’d prefer, but such is the way of the world. At least my...
January 2012
15 posts
Things I thought at the grocery store as a list of...
“Pick a Goddamn Cantaloupe: How to Be a Better Decision Maker”
“Who the Fuck Eats Crunchy Peanut Butter? How to Live in a Diverse World”
“Just Say ‘NO!’ A Guide to Shopping With Children”
“There is No Such Thing As Too Much Ice Cream: A Single Girl’s Guide to Happiness”
“15 Items or Less: The Decline of Language in the...
And what if you could live off the words that you read, the words that you wrote, so that when you sleepily shuffle to the kitchen in the morning and muscle memory propels your right arm towards the coffee filter and your left arm towards the ceramic container you purchased during that impromptu drive to Mexico, instead of scooping out Starbucks Fair Trade Certified Italian Roast, your spoon...
As I often do on a Saturday night when the boy is with my parents, tonight I went to the movies. Alone. The list of current films I want to see is long, so I chose based on movie theater and start time. I went to see “Shame,” a film about emotional availability and having it in either too much or not enough amounts. The movie takes place in New York, and there is an incredibly moving...
Of Mice and Men and My Love Life
I love like Lennie loves, wholly, completely and with so much force that it causes harm. I want to express my love in a tangible way, but that expression manifests itself as a broken neck, except mine, not his. I need a George, someone to say, “Christa, take it easy, slow it down.” I find myself mumbling “I just want to pet the rabbits.” And why shouldn’t I want that?...
And what if every mistake you ever made lined up side by side in the space between your bed and your shower, so that when you awoke in the morning anxious to feel the warm water announce the start of another day, you pass the brownie with walnuts you ate even though you were allergic, you walk by that boy you went home with that night you decided to go out and drink alone, you pass that question...
It was hot, and sweat formed and evaporated so quickly as to almost go unnoticed. Her skin was warm from the sun and cool from her sweat, equally, simultaneously. She kept walking, her stride deliberate, as if each step was a promise made and kept. One foot lifted and placed, followed by an ever-so-slight pause before repeating an identical movement with her other foot. The pause suggested a...
He looked up and smiled at me, and in that moment, I wanted to give him my heart, rip it from my chest and hand it to him bloody, beating, vulnerable. I wanted him to have it and care for it and carry it and love it. I wanted my heart watching him in the shower and sitting next to him on the subway; I wanted him to eat lunch beside it and shield it with an umbrella when it was raining. If he had...
I wake up and it is already afternoon, not unusual because when I went to sleep it was morning. My room is too bright, the bed too warm. I walk to the bathroom and examine my face in the mirror. Last night’s eyeliner has defected from my north lid to the south. I look so very punk rocker. I like it but know my unskilled, impatient hands will never be able to re-create this look. I turn on the...
Driving home in the dark, I was listening to Band of Horses and enjoying the road. It is a road I have driven almost every day for a year, so has been added to my list of roads I know well, well enough to not pay as much attention to the road as I do those things on or around the road.
Driving home in the dark tonight, I looked out the driver’s side window and saw snow - beautiful, white,...
2011
This morning, I was at JoAnn’s Fabrics spending more time than necessary deciding on which fabric I will use to re-upholster my dining room chairs, a project I’ve been considering for a few weeks and have finally decided to complete.
I was at JoAnn’s Fabrics on a Saturday morning, me and old women who quilt and stay-at-home-moms who craft. Juries have decided fates of the...
December 2011
11 posts
I’m drinking whiskey and reading Joan Didion’s “Blue Nights.” I’m not sure which inspired the other, but these things are mingled now, whiskey and Didion.
Although today is Monday, I went through my occasional Sunday night routine. I cleaned, did laundry, painted my nails and decided to wear something nice to work tomorrow, but the night is young and before tomorrow morning, I will have already...
Things I think about while cooking pasta
We used to cook together, him doing the cooking and me doing the wine opening and food tasting. It was a nice arrangement. Pasta, however, was an issue. He kept the main pasta dish sauceless, preferring to put a spoonful of sauce on the individual servings of pasta, almost as a garnish. I, correctly, would want to combine all of the pasta with all of the sauce prior to serving.
The first time I...
As a kid who grew up in Brooklyn, some of my favorite childhood memories are of me leaving Brooklyn. Don’t get me wrong, I love Brooklyn, but growing up near the water seems to come with a sense of longing. My childhood was spent in that part of Brooklyn called Sheepshead Bay, the neighborhood nearest that tiny bit of water separating the southern mainland from eastern Coney Island. There...
Truthful Tuesday: I am a selfish mother
I’m a mother.
God, that is so strange to type.
But, I am.
And I love my kid. I mean, what’s not to love? He’s funny and smart. He loves “The Office” and sits with me during marathon sessions of “The West Wing.” He helps with the dishes and the laundry. We go on hikes together, ride roller coasters together, watch movies together.
I feed him and help...
October, 2003
I sit on my balcony wearing a winter coat, even though it is not cold enough for a winter coat, at least not yet, but the unexpected temperature drop was sudden enough to inspire this extra layer. Better to be too warm than just a little cold.
I sit on my balcony and pull a stale cigarette out of my right jacket pocket and a lighter from my left jacket pocket. I light the cigarette, take a drag...