Brevity & Gravity

not to be confused with ebony and ivory, nor entropy and misanthropy.

many years ago, i read an interview with some super old geezer -- i can't even remember who he was, only that he was old -- and the interviewer asked him what surprised him most about life. his answer: "its brevity." i was stunned, and deeply affected. i remember thinking then that i better appreciate my twenties because i wouldn't have endless years to squander them. and i better die way old and without regrets. and i better be independently wealthy and retired by the time i reached 30. what a dreamer i was.

i still dream, i suppose, but i took the stars out of my eyes long ago. now i'd just rather be healthy (must quit smoking!) and i'd really like some peace of mind -- something to quell this restless soul i must have had since birth. terrible affliction, it is. my tarot teacher says spirituality brings peace of mind. perhaps i should start my own religion: Millaism. our bibles would be Dr. Seuss books. it'd be real simple stuff, with maxims like "thou shalt always look people in the eye and smile at least five times a day." did that make you smile? what the hell am i babbling about?

my new boyfriend (moniker: Momo, pronounced with two long O's), i'm still crazy about. his father died last week. you can read about it on Momo's blog and on his brother's blog. from what i've gathered, the father's life was quite storied, though not always charmed. strained, problematic relationships.

still, you only have one father, so this has been a difficult time. a few days ago, i called my own father to check in with him. i had seen him only a few weeks prior, and sat with him at his kitchen table shooting the shit like we always do. per usual, he was asking me about work and the state of my finances, trying as he does to make me a responsible member of society. i reassured him as i always do, knowing he would worry anyway. then he stared at me for a long moment before he said, "by your face, i'm going to guess that you have a new man in your life." daddy knows. hiding anything from him was always impossible. a new boyfriend, a bad grade, a dent in the car -- forget it. those strong hazel eyes would pierce into you and extract your bullshit. daddy always knows.

i get him on his cell phone and i'm near tears. i remind him of the new man who's been brightening my face for the past few weeks. "sounds like he hurt you, baby," my daddy says. no, no, his father died. "his father died and i need you to know that i love you. i love you so much."

i implore you, precious people: call your parents, if you're still fortunate enough to have them. call them and tell them. life's greatest surprise is its brevity.

Momo's sad, so i'm sad, too. we go through his old photo albums. he tells me stories. i hold his hand and kiss his forehead. it's a helpless feeling to see someone you care for suffering and know that you can't do much to alleviate it. one would think this would put a kibosh on the swooning, but it seems to have accelerated the mush metamorphosis. certainly, there are beginnings in all endings, and i find myself suddenly invigorated in the saddest of ways. it's made me snap out of the deadened detachment i've been so proud of these past few years, this numbness that has kept me from embracing the full spectrum of emotions i'm capable of experiencing. this has all been tragically life-affirming, and i find myself feeling like a woman again, where i can nurture and caretake and support, and offer the best parts of myself at the worst possible time. it's like a flower growing out of the manure. the gravity of entropy.

back on the phone, my father tells me he loves me, too. his voice gets shaky, and i can sense him getting teary as well. he asks the hows and whys (massive heart attack at 79) and offers apologies. i tell him i love him twice more. then, ever the doting husband, he says, "your mother is at home alone. call her and tell her you love her, too." so i hang up with him and do just that.

and i love the rest of y'all, too, especially you, Momo. :-)

The Emperor

oh boy, oh boy. i feel uncharacteristically self-conscious writing this. it's been fraying my nerves and weighing on (what i believe to be) my usually good judgment. i find myself toeing the line between being honest and being smart, lest a blog entry come back later to bite me in the ass, as it's done too often before. it's not that i'm so afraid of embarassing myself -- i can point to many a former entry where i've excelled at being a jackass. it's just this general uneasiness that stems from privacy and perception issues. and it's likely much more an issue in my head than anywhere else. so here goes nothing about something.

better than a jewish matchmaker: why did i waste all that time with internet dating, using some cheeky profile that highlighted my big rack, when i could have instead relied on this blog to attract men? it seems so obvious to me now. about a year ago, comments began to appear on almost all my entries, signed by "chris knight." the comments were sometimes insightful, sometimes obnoxious and convoluted, but always amusing. i looked forward to reading them. i was proud to have a "groupie," to have someone i didn't know take an interest in my writings about my life.

meanwhile, i go out with my friends, many of whom i went to high school with. we were a small class, and a core group of us maintain constant contact. twice in about six weeks i run into Marlin at various group functions. Marlin, whom i never gave a shit for in high school and whom i hadn't seen in a few years, i now find myself incredibly, irresistably and inexplicably attracted to. a flirtation ensues, but it doesn't extend beyond those two meetings, though he stays in my mind.

i go on about my harem business and begin to nudge "chris knight," whose comments indicated that he lived in LA, into sending me an email, so i can meet him over coffee. a month ago i get my email.

the reveal: "chris" is Marlin; Marlin is "chris." i read through the email and sit at my desk motionless for five minutes. i never would have guessed. i get up and take an hourlong walk. it was like finding out that your secret admirer was the same guy you had your secret crush on. coupled with the weird tarot reading that predicted a new man on my horizon, it was so clear. some of my friends thought i was crazy, and that his actions were "creepy" and "deceptive." i found it very romantic -- cinematic, even. we meet for dinner and drinks the following week. sparks fly. we have a lull-less conversation. we agree to take things very very slowly. three days later, we're practically chained to each other.

feelings: i'm trying to stay out of my own way. i'm trying not to be terrified. i'm trying to stay present and open. and so far...i guess it's working. as much as i'd like to deny it, i gotta admit that i'm friggin' swooning. i get giddy after a phone call. i feel as self-possessed as a bowl of jello. my insides are mush. i feel awakened, challenged, stimulated. i've become the girl i'd ridicule -- all sprung and vulnerable, my pupils fully dilated when i look at him. (see below for photos from my party. read the captions.)

yeah. him. i'm going to avoid singing his praises here (sorry, momo), because i've already grossed myself out enough. but rest assured that he's spectacular. he's brilliant, intense, analytical, creative, stylish, passionate, tall and sexy as hell. and he's sooooo hot in the sack. (shit, i think sang his praises after all.) and he is so The Emperor, the tarot card representing a strong-willed mother fucker. he is as much his own person as i am mine. we don't take each others' shit. have i met my match? perhaps. is this love? maybe. maybe.

let's not get carried away: as great as i feel now, i'm fully aware that i won't always feel this way. but that suits me fine. i also know that i need to be here right now, doing this, whatever the outcome. and despite how it might sound, i still am incredibly realistic and grounded. my expectations are tempered. it's been only a month and i am moving at the speed of time. i see his many attributes -- and also his flaws. we've had arguments. there are wrinkles that need ironing. he's not the Mrs. but for now, he is my boyfriend. (check out his blog.) the harem is dissolved.

to summarize: i'm happy. i'm feeling big feelings. and it feels good.

Goings On

it's been nonstop stuffs lately. i've barely had a free moment to relax and swing in my hammock. until today, that is, when i forced the moment upon myself. i tried to be all meditative and zen, allowing the breeze to rock me gingerly, but i couldn't just be. not with my mind racing as it was, the spider crawling up my leg, the pollen from the overhead tree landing in my eyes and nose, the dog from the neighboring yard barking at juice. it was the most frustration i've ever experienced while relaxing.

"fuck it," i say and head toward the door back into my house, the door that has somehow managed to lock itself. "fuck!" perhaps i left my front door unlocked. i didn't. i hope my landlord is home. he isn't. so i sit in the yard for a moment longer, wound up by my own volition, locked out by my own stupidity. "i'm a retard," i say aloud. seems like i've been saying that for years. i look at juice. i get the feeling that she agrees.

i remove the screen from my open kitchen window and begin to haul my big ass -- which hasn't seen the gym in two weeks -- over the filthy windowsill, landing feet first into the pile of dirty dishes in my sink. so much for relaxing.

in other, less retarded news:

-- my job is stressing me out. the magnitude of this stress should diminish soon enough, but i'm not a fan of stress in general. (i'm much more a lady of leisure.) it's good that i'm rockin my noggin and feeling productive, but it can be overwhelming at times. like being in college at the end of the semester, where you have papers to write and finals to take. too much stuff. i find expletives floating out of my mouth with much more ease, which is a no-no in such a corporate zone. my coworkers are also starting to crack, as evidenced by their responses to my questions lately. before, we'd always pow-wow and reach an informed consensus anytime an issue needed resolving. now my attempts at beginning the dialogue are met with, "i don't care. do what you want."

-- i saw the brazilian girls at the avalon in hollywood last friday night. go buy their CD if you haven't already. the music is terrific and the lead singer is a crazy babe full of mojo and stage presence. one of the best shows i've seen in ages. i think i might have to stalk the lead singer and get her to marry me. she is unbelievably hot.

-- in case you haven't noticed, millatimes.com is under construction and should be looking more spiffy in the coming months. my darling cesar, from new york, is helping me revamp this shit depot, and if i give him some adequate direction, you should be seeing a completely redesigned millatimes.com by fall hopefully.

-- er...the biggest news tidbit is something i can't provide many details on just yet, not until i figure out where i stand and what i want to say. but know that "the emperor" from the aforementioned tarot reading has indeed arrived and made quite the impression. these past few weeks have been intense. i'd like to say more -- and plan to say more, just not now.

keep tuned.

If You're Going Through Hell, Keep Going

don't stop to check out the scenery, because the scenery sucks and there are no roses to smell. just keep going until you make it through.

that's what work feels like right about now. it's a hell to endure until july 15, which is the first big deadline. but little deadlines follow so i won't be entirely out of brimstone until about mid-october. then comes a vacation to anywhere relaxing. it couldn't get here fast enough, because i feel spent. i'm cranky and in chronic, dire need of a nap. the bright side is overtime pay and...hmm...i guess that's the only bright side. the dim sides are too numerous to mention. good news is that i've successfully staved off this cold that's been trying to put its hands around my scratchy throat for the past week or so. thank you, Airborne.

and thank you, fuckers, who showed up to my birthday party the other week. for the record, they are indeed real, and it just takes a terrific bra to bring out their best. also for the record, i am indeed 29 and not all that bothered by this fact. life gets better each year, because i get smarter and stronger. i also, apparently, because less shameful, as evidenced by the last few posts on this here blogger. (thank g-d my mom stopped reading this thing years ago.)

my new goal for the next year and beyond is to become the best possible version of myself. with my newfound spirituality -- induced largely through studying tarot -- i see that some of my old shitty habits no longer serve me. i think i can still keep my edge while being a kinder, gentler me. i'm not sure what all that means yet, but i'm working on it.

and where better to work it out than here?