taking risks

today c, s, and i went out to lunch. we began talking abt risks, abt breakups. it was insightful (and yummy!) and i am so glad i live in someplace where people are from all over with all different opinions.

"i broke up with him because i didn't respect myself when dating him. i am still in love with him, but i just couldn't be with him any longer."

"i give ultimatums. it's a huge risk, but you have to do it or you won't be able to live with yourself."

"i can't take risks. i hate being out of my comfort zone."

"that's when you learn. that's when you grow."

"learning and growing are scary."

"taking risks also introduces you to all sorts of new options, new things that enhance your life. eating aubergines was a huge risk for me--it was expensive that first time--but i love them and i can't imagine a week without aubergines."

and so on. risks are necessary for life. i'm not talking about bungee jumping or subway surfing; those are stupid risks, with death as possibility. (well, the first isn't as risky but i still wouldn't do it; the second is very stupid, especially as i remember being late for my first class in library school b/c of that high school boy who was beheaded while subway surfing.) risks are saying, "i love you," or saying, "i love you but i can't do this anymore," or chatting someone new up or adopting a kitten or cutting your hair or wearing heels for the first time. risks are about new experiences and a new way of thinking.

fiction: from a short story i'm working on about love, sex, and life

he says i look so pretty after sex. he says i have a glow. he says he can't believe how beautiful i am after sex.

from v

"I wasn't ready to face the truth, which was that you reach a point in every intimate relationship where you have to be brave, to move forward into the dangerous territory. Because if you don't, there is nothing left to do but retreat."
Steve Almond and Julianna Baggot WHICH BRINGS ME TO YOU

wait

did you wonder how long i'd wait for you? did you really think it would be years, and years, and years, and still i'd wait? i'd wait like that bride with her van packed full of wedding gifts, the groom off to get a pack of ciggies before the wedding, and never came home? i remember going with my daddy and seeing the van packed up--"and cher, this was years, years before you were born! this was before your mother and i got married"--packed with wedding gifts, and the rumour was, she was still waiting.

i swear i will never be like that.

sup

i had a pretty good weekend. i went to rosa's in CT on friday and i had a bit of culture shock (i am such a freak--the second i am abt to go someplace in the US i start panicking if it's outside of nyc (except LI i can handle b/c i grew up there) and getting all nervous and antsy and feeling uneasy b/c everything other than nyc is strange) but a really splendid time. i love rosa. we spent some time in nature but turns out, i'm freaked of dark forests at night. oh well. saturday i went to a rooftop party in the south bronx and got pretty smashed (etc etc) and then cabbed it down to the complacent party where i danced with too many friends and strangers till 5.30 am. today i spent the day with the fam out on the boat and at a family bbq (boca burgers for cherie).

but yesterday a lot of things hit me. i went to rachelle's to help her move her apt--b finally moved out! n came over too and the three of us really bonded b/c all of us have recently gotten out of long-term relationships (eight years for r and n, six for me). r was over b a lot more than n and i were over our exes ("why?") but we all felt free.

"dating new people is SO strange!"

and where do you meet these people? r had all these books like there goes the bride and some weird matchmaking books her mother gave her and i was reading them for a bit, but snorting at some of the advice. apparently, i have to look sexy while i work out. my limited tanks that i run in that i originally bought in seventh grade garner enough comments; imagine how much i'd be sexually harassed if i wore sexy clothes?

but i digress. being single is a very scary thing but at the same time, i kind of like my freedom. freedom to talk with whomever, to have a bit of space. i don't know what's happening tomorrow, and i'm rather savouring it. i can listen to specific songs on repeat (i currently have a playlist of four songs on my ipod titled "tracks i'm obsessed with" that i listen to repeatedly) without any faces being made. plus more space in my apt. more space in my life. it's hard, so fucking hard, and it's esp difficult when the decision can easily be reversed--but i know i shouldn't let it be, and i won't. i have demands, and they'll never be filled, b/c my heart has been crushed.

i said months ago to dan in an email, "absence makes the heart grow fonder, but neglect only leads to decay." i think that sums so much up.

"you have loved me too well and not enough."
--peter covino

what emily said when i told her i was no longer dating t

"good. another less boyfriend."

who am i?

i walk past the spot where i was almost attacked nearly every day, and i decided, "i should put a sign up here to warn other women." and the radical feminist i once was--i still am, but not as radical--came back. putting signs "a rapist lives here," spitting at cr's rapist, shouting back at pi alpha nu, writing letters...i was fucking FIERCE. i was hardcore. what happened?

i can blame it on falling in love with a man (who broke my heart when he left ny), i can blame it on living in nyc where heels are mandatory for saturday nights, i can blame it on growing up...but it's still there. that's why i'm a radical cheerleader at 26, nearly 27, why i'm going to speak up for my sisters who can't speak up...or who are too scared to....or who won't, for whatever reason.

but now i'm single, looking at the world with big open eyes. i work for a women's nonprofit, and know i need to go back to my roots: radical feminist activist.

the woman who was raped after dancing at a duke party...that could have been me. but it wasn't. the woman that was raped by those lacrosse players was black, so of course the media has to portray the black stripper (single mom, struggling to raise her family and go to the local public college) as opposed to the "wholesome" rich white duke lacrosse players (one of them is a graduate of chaminade, and any long island girl knows about the chaminade boys). why do people doubt her? shouldn't we automatically just accept it? i do. i believe her. i believe her. i believe we have to believe her. why the fuck would she make up something like that? it's a horrific experience to be raped--and i know--and i think the least we can do--the very, very least--is to support her.

but how can i get back to direct action? i was the one screaming, tears streaming down my face, in front of the new paltz courthouse about the injustice, about the blind eye the law turns towards women, especially women who have been raped. "she couldn't have been raped; she was wearing tight jeans." (italian court) "what were you wearing?" "you were a hooker; you can't have been raped!" "what did you go to his house before?" and too many other things.

maybe i'm in the wrong field. i always feel like i need to do something MORE, to help women. how can i? i should volunteer, i suppose.

but it's late-ish; instead, i'll just listen to old skool bikini kill, huggy bear. and i'll make some fucking signs to warn women about the scummy men who are out there, wanting to hurt women. i have been hurt before by men, and i'm fucking strong: i don't want my sisters to get hurt too.

hating menstruation

i know i'm a big hippie, but i get the worst periods. and when you get three in forty days, you start getting ready to throttle someone (namely that asshole scratching his crotch on wall st--wtf?!!). anyway, a new pill is abt to be approved that would make menstruation optional. and i hate the hormones of regular birth control, but to not have periods--to have sex whenever i want, to not be bleeding so badly i cry, to not have cramps, to not get depressed--it'd be worth it.

i've always been opposed to the pill--the hormones--but i am tempted to try this, assuming fda approves it in june! wooohooo!

anti-bush graffiti i witnessed around europe

the following are photos of anti-bush/anti-war graffiti and signs i saw around europe. interesting...

what my grandma said this morning to me, shocking me beyond belief

"i don't like that, cheryl. you need to play the field. i'm serious. i don't like to see you waiting. you're young and pretty and shouldn't be tied down to one person who's never there. i love you."

well said, grandma.

My favorite section from Blake Nelson's GIRL (my fave book in high school and still one of the best books)

"What I didn't understand that first couple days was if sex was so fun why didn't people spend, you know, like six or eight hours a day doing it? I felt like I could have. And I looked at all the grownups and older kids and the counselors and I thought how everyone on earth complains they can't get sex but why can't they? Just go meet someone and do it. Everyone wants to, how hard can it be? And even if you don't like the person that much you'll be having sex with them and sex is so fun of course you'll start to like them."

What We Really Learn in Library School

"Our society is obsessed with sex," said Rep. Sally Kern (R-Oklahoma City). "And I will tell you this: The American Library Association is out to sexualize our children."

I am a card-carrying member of the American Library Association.

i wrote this a while ago and found it while cleaning....it makes me sad as this is not even "foreshadowing" but smacking me over the head....so sad

It is past our bedtime. You are lying on my bed in jeans, t-shirt. From what you normally sleep in, you might as well have on your jacket too. I am sitting in the bathroom, on the closed toilet seat, thinking of what tomorrow will be like.

Will our fight continue, venomous words spewing from our mouths? Will you leave and never return my calls? Will one day an email come from you demanding I mail you that obscure item you left at my house, insisting I never get in touch with you again--maybe you'll want the cock ring to use with someone else?

Or maybe you'll have blocked me out of your mind--a kind of amnesia.

We thought it could work, admist the vast differences--an artist and a scientist, a dreamer and a realist, a financially responsible one and...oh, fuck the labels. we are different. we were different. we were so arrogant: oh, our love, no one else feels like this. we have something special.

yet on and on we went: forever unhappy.

what can i say? tears, words, embraces--all met with resistance. violence in the tossing, ripping words. i think of a missed yoga class tonight--perhaps if i went, tonight wouldn't have turned out so. my mind would have been clearer.

you are so clever, so calm, so cool and collected. i, the messy one, with my dreams and desires out in the air, acting and talking, australia and europe, novels and libraries. i want to do it all (and am determined to do so) and seeing you, my love, makes me want to forfeit it all, the world for the solace i locate in your embrace. and when i see you, my heart flips, yet you act cool. i try to mimic you but you are not me an di fail.

i wonder where we are going: not even us since that no longer appears to be an option, but you & i, separately. me, i've got big dreams, and you're number one in them. am i in yours? anymore?

who knows?

sad eyes want to die

this morning i saw buffy, my grandma's dog. a bit about buffy: she enjoys rice krispies, chocolate, eggs, pasta, cheese, pastries--people food. shit zus are supposed to weight 13 or 14; buffy weighed 26 until not too long ago. buffy is 14.

about two months ago, buffy was diagnosed with cancer. the vet told my grandmother that she could:

1. have another three or so months with buffy;
2. put buffy to sleep;
3. give buffy chemo, which might prolong her life another year.

my grandma was leaning towards option one, just letting buffy slowly go and eventually putting her to sleep, or letting her die. instead, my stupid aunt (who as my father says, "used to hate dogs, not give a shit about dogs, and suddenly she's the mother teresa of canines") convinced my grandmother to get chemo for buffy--not a cheap option. "you have to do it," my pushy aunt said. "i would borrow money if i had to do it." (this doesn't mention the fact that she once put a dog to sleep b/c it was old. that's when she didn't give a shit abt her dogs.)

so buffy has been undergoing chemo. the last time i saw buffy was about a month ago, and she just looked skinnier, but still like the buffy i've grown up with: the buffy who begs for food, who pees on the carpet when you excite her, who says hello to me. this time, i was in for a shock. i almost started crying.

buffy was skinnier: skinnier than probably a normal shit zu (so she probably weighed 12 pounds, maybe 10?), and she lost the fur on her face, giving her a bizarre and sad appearance. "she looks much better," grandma convinced me, but my heart ached. the worst was buffy's eyes.

in her emaciated, mostly-furless face, her eyes stuck out the most. they were filled with pain, with sadness, and i never saw an animal look like this. buffy was telling me, "please, i am in pain, i am suffering, i do not like this. please, let me go. this is not fair to me." her eyes were reaching out to me, and i knew she did not want to live anymore as she was living.

this i could not say to my grandmother. my grandma had seen the change slowly, but for me in buffy, the change was dramatic. instead, while my grandma fussed over where my father hung the fuscia my sister and i gave her for mother's day, i sat with buffy, talking to her, comforting her, telling her i loved her.

i hope buffy's pain does not continue too much longer. although i deeply love this dog (more than i've ever loved a dog), i do not want buffy to be in pain. if luna were like this, it would be hard, but i would need to let her go.

wait

She wasn’t sure what she came for but she was glad she was there.

She was waiting at the bar, not for him or for her or for anyone in particular. She was waiting, waiting for something, and she wasn’t sure what. She sat there, sipping a tall mojito, waiting, listening, waiting.

And when it happened, she was so relieved the waiting was over.

scary incident

today i was exhausted and took the bus to india st and didn't have the driver stop at my corner like i usually do b/c i didn't want to make everyone wait and some cute polish guy in his fancy car started hitting on me in polish. i said, "i don't speak polish" and he hit on me again in polish. "sorry, i don't speak polish," and then he said, "can i give you a ride somewhere? or get to know you?" and i was flattered but said, "i leave around the block" and ducked through one of those annoying construction-fake sidewalks (if you live in nyc, you know what i mean) and this guy started saying, "baby, wait baby," and following me and going to grab me and i freaked, and screamed, "get the fuck away from me! get away from me! get away!" and ran out of the fake sidewalk and crossed my street and i'm relieved i'm home in my safe apt with my little kitty and the sound of rain.

choice cheer

if you can't trust me with a CHOICE
how can you trust me with a child!
it's pro choice or no choice
abortion is a right
we must stand united and fight FIGHT FIGHT
so come on, everyone,
we need your racket!
'cause when women use hangers,
it should be for their JACKETS!

i miss traveling...

seeing new things each and every day...today i saw a backpacker on wall street, and thought, "i miss the days where each day was a new city, a new chance to explore, new people..."

later i walked up to cortlandt st to get my mum her mother's day gift and i saw a fucking tourist smiling having someone take a photo of themself in front of the world trade centre. that made me so fucking angry. i'm not ready to let the site of a massacre be a photo opp. how insensitive.

running is my religion

this morning, as i was completing my daily run, i mulled over various things on my mind. i let my feet take to the streets, let it all out as i ran, as i put one foot in front of the other, as i ran, ran, ran. i remember years ago, when i was moving into snow lion, my buddhist super said to me, "do you practice?" meaning, practice buddhist or practice spirituality with meditation, yoga, etc.

"yes, i run," i told him.

"ah, yes," zoran responded.

my roommate attacked me, "that's not meditation. you aren't meditating when you run."

"what about thich nhat hanh? and his infamous walking meditation you revere so?" i questioned.

"but that's walking! this is running! running is different!" said my roommate who never ran.

my super interrupted our argument. "no it's not. running, it's simply a different method of letting it all out. whether you walk or run or sit, it's all a method of un-avoidance, of meditation. i am glad we have a runner-meditator here."

running is a place where i can go that lets my thoughts flow, my mind is full of creative ideas...or a place where my mind is blank and i can truly focus on nothing as i push my body to its extreme. running is everything to me, and helps me better than any therapy ever could.

"i need an australian-american dictionary"

my friend alex from sydney has been staying with me until he finds a job and an apt, or until i get sick of him and kick him out. we're having heaps of fun, though i must admit i'm not used to the excessive drinking ozzies take place in. this summer, i remember once drinking water and my friend rocky from melbourne was incredulous: "but cherie, that's just water? water? let me buy you a beer. no, i have to buy you a beer." in the end, we did shots of absinthe and took photos. here's one of them.

anyway, since alex has been here, i feel like i have a roommate. it's kind of nice, although everyone knows boys never make good roommates. i love living alone--i generally walk around naked, pee with the door open, have my weird secret habits (i believe sex and the city touched upon these weird habits in one episode--i think carrie liked to stand in her kitchen eating stacks of saletines)--so this is intruding upon that a bit, but really, i'm having heaps of fun.

alex plays australian football (aka footie) and i went out with one of his footie friends to this australian bar--ozzie flag in the front, footie on the tele, lots of ozzie accents. ruebin won a 1k bar tab so we drank for free and got really trashed. these dopey american girls heard us talking and joined in our conversation.

them: so, are you guys like british?

this is the best way to insult an ozzie. they were annoyed at them, but since they were hot, ruebin (who was heavily smashed at this point) began chatting them up. one of the girls decided alex and i were boyfriend-girlfriend. alex was getting smashed and i warned him if he threw up he'd be sleeping on the bathroom floor.

girl: so how long have you guys been living together?

alex and i look at each other, thinking, is him sleeping on my futon with a pile of suitcases in the corner living together? i guess so.

me: um, a week today.

girl: oh how nice!

us: yeah...

girl: how long have you been dating?

us: ummm....actually, we met last friday....he flew in from sydney then....

girl (flustered): oh, well, my sister moved in with her husband after a week and they've been married for seven years!

alex and i laugh.

so i've been trying not to drink more than usual, but of course it's a bit difficult. otherwise i've been showing alex around ny, talking to him abt the city, having heaps of fun. he's really considerate and i think i've learned a lot abt australia since he's been staying with me. he's trying to turn me on to rodney rude, this australian comedian but i don't get what he's saying: half the time i have no clue of what he's saying, and the other half, i can understand what he's saying but i don't get the jokes. cultural barriers. alex and i have been using heaps of words the other doesn't understand and my dad said, "cher, where's your australian-american dictionary?"

for real, i saw one of those at the amazing travel bookstore in london and i need one of those!

on the bus yesterday

african-american woman: that bitch pushed me! i hate stupid white people.

me to the guy sitting next to me: i hate stupid every people.

the protest

saturday was the anti-war protest. it was fucking awesome. despite staying up past 4am with alex after he landed from sydney, i still was able to muster up enough energy to cheer. (i'm a radical cheerleader!) and cheer we did. popular favorites of the day were "masturbate don't detonate" and "my bush is better." we had so much fun screaming. i loved doing a thigh stand and screaming: if you can't trust me with a choice you can't trust me with a child! it's pro-choice or no choice abortion is a right! bush it is you we'll fight fight FIGHT!

the rads wooed the crowd as usual, and we screamed beyond the point of hoarseness. tears were in my eyes at the pain i was in while screaming. there was a fairly good turnout, but still, i felt the crowd lacked some of the energy i have seen at other protests. and most importantly, where the fuck were the anarchists? the rads are often part of the anarchist blocs and there was none. no other squads except nyc showed up; it was sad. the rc movement needs some inspiration. to read some cheers, or start your own squad, check out here for info!

fire

yesterday i woke up for my morning run, and as soon as i stepped outside my house, i heard helicopters. lots of them. i looked up and felt frightened for a second: something has happened. running to the end of my block, i could see what happened: there was a fire. i could see smoke, but it took me several blocks to see the building (at the end of my friend's block)--an abandoned building on the waterfront. i have never seen so much smoke in years--it has been the worst fire in over 10 years (besides 9/11) and the smoke coming from the building--it reminded me of the twin towers.

after talking to rachelle, friend and greenpoint expert, neighbors, and others, i learned that this was the one building that could NOT be torn down--though it was owned by developers and slated for renovation for luxury apts. it was a historical site, so they couldn't destroy it. however, there have been several reports of someone being sighted sloshing liquid on the roof of the building--and for the intensity of the fire--a ten alarm fire--it could not have been a random burning. the developer sounded like a real asshole in this new york times article and the fire was still burning earlier today--on my morning run today, i saw several hoses shooting at the fire, and a bunch of exhausted-looking firefighters. i ran home from work today and felt as if i were choking--the smell was horrid. luckily, the smoke blew north, and so it did not affect me...and it mainly went into the river, so most people were okay.