The Elephant in the Room

i’ve been struggling with this post and too many times considered deleting it. i thought i didn’t really need it, that the people closest to me already know this stuff, and that in the interest of moving on i should just move on and never mention that whole breakup thing again.

i worried about writing something i’ll regret, recognizing that the way i feel today is not indicative of the way i’ll always feel. but i suppose the same thing could be said of everything else i’ve written here over the past seven years, so perhaps it’s moot. this is how the conversation with myself has been going — point, counterpoint.

but, ultimately, this is the place where i chronicle the events in my life. it’s as much for me as it is for any audience that cares to read it, and i would be remiss if i didn’t address the breakup of my relationship, which lasted five years and played a major role in my life.

the truth is things were rocky for a while and then got ugly at the end. this is due in large part to the fact that we kept living together after breaking up, a circumstance that made us forget all the reasons we got together in the first place, reasons i’m only starting to remember again with the help of time and distance. it’s a shame, because if this post were written four months ago, when we initially decided to split, i’m sure it would read very differently than it does today.

today, it reads more like relief than grief, more best of times than worst of times. nowadays, i’m happier than i’ve been in months. i’m sleeping better, enjoying the outdoors with my pups more and feeling optimistic about my future again. i’m not saying that to be an asshole; it’s honestly the way i feel. that’s not to say i won’t cherish the memories we shared and all the rest of that jazz, but they all seem so remote to me now, relegated to a past lifetime i no longer want to revisit.

if you’ve been reading this for any length of time, you know that Mo and i have played makeup-breakup a few times over the past five years and you may assume that this is just another one of those breaks. (lord knows enough of my friends have said this to me.) if there is any bright side to the ugly ending, it’s that there is no ambiguity this time. it is over. we are currently not speaking to one another, and as far as i know he has left town. so there is no longing for the past. there is some heartache, yes, but it’s more fleeting than paralyzing. on the whole, i feel pretty good.

though i admit it’s odd to find myself here: newly 34, one year from advanced maternal age, with no partner to walk into my future with. i’d like to think that it will all work out for me in the end — that i’ll find my prince and get my happy ending — but i don’t want to be naive.

i also don’t want to be a cliche, so you won’t find me on jdate among the countless other thirtysomething jewish girls, their clocks ticking, looking to land a lawyer husband. marriage is not my life’s goal. if it happens at all, it will be only once and to the right person.

motherhood, however, is a goal. thankfully, i have several years left before i reach menopause so it’s still on the table. maybe i’ll hit my scary age, visit the sperm bank and go it alone. maybe i’ll adopt with a partner later in life. it could happen in a number of ways, all of them equally valid. of course, my preference is that it happens the old-fashioned way, but i’m no longer beholden to that as the only approach.

which leads me to... dating. re-entering that world both terrifies and excites me. i dread it, but well remember the sweet possibilities it can bring. if nothing else, it should make this blog more interesting to read. though maybe not right away as i don’t intend to become anyone’s girlfriend anytime soon, but i don’t intend to sit in a dark room and cry either.

right now, my only intention is to have a fun summer. i sense myself approaching the requisite post-breakup phase of carefree days and endless socializing. and i intend to enjoy it because i know i’ll become someone’s girlfriend eventually. my heart will reconstitute itself in time and want to be given away again. there will be future blog posts filled with declarations of love and cheek-to-cheek photos.

but until then, the good-time gal is back. i am single and ready to mingle.

34: The Party

cancers rule: because my house is still not ready to receive an influx of guests, the annual birthday party this year was (again) a joint venture held at Raidis’ house and featured a star-studded cast of friends who helped us celebrate our big day in style.


the style: i bought a red dress for the occasion — new shoes, too! — had my makeup professionally done by a kind neighbor and endured this hair treatment called the Brazilian Blowout, which is basically a relaxer for white girls that should make my hair appear freshly flat ironed for three months. in short, i spent way too much money for one night and only regret that i didn’t take my hooker look to the streets to make some of it back. oh well, drinking with Raquel was much funner.


more drinking: Nick and Chad are pretty fly for white guys.


the eating: in case you don’t already know, i’m slightly obsessed with bacon and actually missed a bacon-themed party my friends Michelle and Kevin were throwing on the same day because of my stupid birthday. a dozen bacon-maple doughnuts from Nickel Diner helped me (and Cerreah) grieve.


the twins! i’m not suggesting that all black people look alike, but these two really do. in addition, Phillip and Polly both have names that start with the letter P. coincidence? or just a coincidence? you be the judge.


cute couple alert: newlyweds Damien and Kelly are sort of perfect together.


another cute couple: Wade and Courtney are also newlyweds who met at a party i threw many years ago. i suppose this makes me a jewish matchmaker of sorts.


all the single ladies: Fellas: Grace is also single — and clearly stunning.


the magic chicken: in addition to my bacon obsession, i’m also enamored with a tiny plastic chicken that promises to make all my dreams come true. it works in the same way that a genie does, except that i can ask for more than three wishes. in truth, it works more like The Secret, where you set an intention and the universe delivers.


factory farming: the magic chicken is the brainchild of my crazy friend from espain, Juan, who has spawned quite the cult following for the little bird. there is a Magic Chicken FAQ, a facebook fan page and a customer support number. and here he is inculcating Ann and Justin into the magic chicken army.


Elliot with his chicken: the bright side to my Landmark Forum experience is that i made a friend there. thankfully, Elliot is good natured enough to withstand my merciless teasing about the fact that he continues to take Landmark classes. i’m hoping the magic chicken cult can lure him away.


c/o ’94, represent: i am one of those weird ones who still keeps in touch with her high school friends, mainly because they are fucking awesome. from left to right: Raidis, Marina, Anna, Sergio, Cassie, Mike, Valerie, Suzanne, Cintia, Chris, Nicole.


Sergio, Cassie, Deo: more high school friends doing what we’ve always done, 16 years later. ok, that suddenly sounds very sad. i swear i’ve made friends since high school.


here are some now: Felicita and Bumni ham it up.


there’s only one: the crazy espaniard himself, the chicken pusher, lovely Landmarkian, Keshot founder and long-time friend of mine, Juan Juan Juan, whom i love love love.


another love: have i mentioned how much i love my Ann?


and yet another: and also my Marina?


ok, one more: and Polly too? in addition to a few notable others, some of whom were pictured already — Raidis, Zee, Sharon, Grace, Zahra, Courtney — these girls comprise my life support system.


after midnight: i felt the love flowing all night, sometimes even overflowing, particularly when i slipped into my bacon shirt and was eaten alive by my friends.


what’s that over there!? with a little redirecting to the red velvet cupcakes, i managed to escape unharmed so i could ride out one of the best birthday parties i’ve had in ages. thanks to all who showed and made the first day of my life as a 34-year-old fabulous.

One-Hit Wonders: June 2010

... search terms inexplicably pulling up this blog ...

• lactating masseuses massachusetts
• marrage surviving landmark forum
• pleasure pain continuum
• "leftover donuts" please help yourself
• are domintraxes sane
• domination in caviar
• daughter couldn't latch on milla jovovich nipples
• landmark education lying cheating racket
• dooce russian river
• "hate them" "his freckles""freckled"
• bunions
• i've concluded indefinitely that my poor eyesight and blaring head phones make me more awkward.

34

well, hello there. how are you? i am fine, thanks for asking. did i mention it was my birthday recently? i turned 34, which is one of those weird interstitial ages, the bookend of the coveted 18-34 demographic. i suppose i have one year left to be trendy and watch MTV. after then, it’s sensible shoes and VH1.

this birthday sort of snuck up on me, but i’m glad it did. it’s like a cab that arrived just at the moment i needed a ride from one part of town to the other, from one chapter to the next. it’s a fresh start, all new beginnings and seasons changing and tides turning.

except that i don’t really feel a year older this year. so far, 34 has felt a lot like 33, which felt a lot like 32. the years have begun to blend into one another, and i often find myself having to think hard every time someone asks me my age.

the worse part about aging is still the aging part, with my metabolism slowing, wrinkles deepening and gravity winning every battle. each day, i can see my genetics at work, determined to give me the same bunions my grandma had, the same droopy eyelids my mother has. the gray hairs have become relentless. i tire easily. my back aches constantly.

the best part is all that wisdom shit i’ve heard people talk about for years. i’m finally starting to get it. i’m finally starting to get comfortable with the world as it is and my place in it. i don’t sweat the small stuff anymore. i trust my own instincts. i know the areas i need to work on and i know which ones i don’t. i feel clear-headed, driven and in control, secure in the knowledge that i’ll land on my feet because i have to and that life will take care of everything in the same way it always has.

as in years past, this year’s birthday saw a fabulous party held at my friend Raidis’ house, whose own birthday is two days after mine. the party was damn near perfect, with great friends having a great time (photo essay forthcoming). i felt loved and deliriously happy.

this should be a good year.

The Landmark Forum: Day 3 (Part V)

(sorry for the delay in publishing this sucker. if you missed my earlier essays on my Landmark experience, you can find them here; read from the bottom.)

“life is meaningless and we are meaning-making machines.” this is the crux of the Landmark Forum, the conclusion we arrived at after three grueling days of instruction. everything had led up to this, the big transformative lecture, given sunday afternoon at around 4pm, the one that would make us “pop” into our new and improved selves whose futures were brighter than before.

life is meaningless and we are meaning-making machines.

we are all going to be dead one day. you can’t take anything with you. there is no inherent meaning in anything. there are only experiences, which we ruin with our interpretations of them. we project our views onto everything and everyone around us, views whose only function is to reinforce our belief that we are right.

we need our meanings to live, to make sense of the world, to make sense of ourselves, to put everything in a neatly labeled box. we put ourselves in that box, too — with fixed ideas about our strengths, weaknesses and limitations, ideas that are artificial and borne of trauma.

the weekend had been spent examining that trauma and the ideas it has created, ideas that have cemented themselves into the baggage we have carried from one life experience to the next, baggage that has made us self-righteous and self-conscious, that has stopped us from pursuing our dreams and becoming the person we were meant to be.

the time had come to let it go. because the simple truth about life is that things happen and then other things happen. none of it means anything, even when we force it to mean everything. life is just events. and a transformed life is taking those events at face value and not coloring them with our judgments and interpretations. a transformed life is joyful and limitless, positive and fearless, honest and authentic. on this side is nothing, on the other side is everything.

Angie delivered this speech while running around the room. she had clearly given it many times before and knew which words to emphasize and how much eye contact to make. as expected, the crowd drank the kool-aid with great enthusiasm, questioning nothing, with a few vocal dissenters resisting the idea that their lives held no meaning. some people had their head in their hands, crying uncontrollably, while others looked elated, as though all their burdens had been eradicated.

“do you get it? do you get it?” everyone was asking everyone else. a buzz weaved through the room. people were hugging, some were still crying; smiles were everywhere. after being lost at sea for two days, we had finally hit the shore and walked toward it as changed people.

life is meaningless and we are meaning-making machines.

Angie opened the floor up for questions and the hits kept coming, with several suddenly transformed participants gushing about their new personal philosophies and listing the myriad ways their lives would change. the unhappy campers stepped up to the mic as well, looking forlorn and arguing with Angie about purpose and god.

i looked uneasy, as usual — and felt bewildered. i didn’t feel particularly transformed and wasn’t sure whether that made me totally crazy or perfectly sane. why was i resisting so much, i wondered? why was i looking at all these seemingly happy people with such a judgmental eye? why did i refuse to walk toward the light of unfettered possibility, toward a life without the trappings of the past — the baggage of hurt and rejection, disapproval and disdain, ridicule and grief, heartache and disappointment?

why did i cling so fiercely to that baggage now that Landmark threatened to remove it? why did i not want to transform into a blank canvas on which i can create a future that’s more beautiful than the past? “go there,” i told myself. “just let it take over. look at all these happy people around you. don’t you want to be happy like them? what do you need your misery for?”

but i can’t do it. my ego refuses to vanish. it needs the pain. it wants the pain, with its hard-won hurts to linger and learn from. it needs to interpret the events in my life, because events inherently do have meaning. otherwise, it’s just birth, love, school, work, marriage, loss, death, and then the end?

how could i not ascribe meaning to any of it? how would i be able to keep stringing sentences together, sentences that are sometimes about pain and disappointment, about stories aching for interpretation? how could i create a life where meanings no longer existed? i would need to cancel this blog, abandon my Dish-Interested column, stop reading the newspaper and live in a cocoon.

i won’t do it. as corny as it sounds, i need to suffer for my art. i need to accept every ounce of pain that life is kind enough to bestow upon me, because that pain will keep me honest in my work. without it, i’ll have nothing to write about. without it, i’ll lose any heaviness that resides in my heart, the teen angst that still lingers in my soul and the Russianness that defines the very fiber of my being and transform into an over-inspired L.A. asshole who’s high on her own positivity and can only write about one topic: self-help.

me writing articles on self-help? me becoming one of Those People who frames her life in daily affirmations, loads up her shelves with stupidly titled self-help books — “A User’s Manual for the Human Experience,” anyone? — and confuses enlightenment with a moralizing superiority complex that nauseates all her friends? me transform into THAT?

the thought disgusted me.

i looked around again. people were still smiling, seemingly overjoyed with their newfound non-identities — glowing, vibrant and beautiful. they looked alive and, suddenly, they all looked alike: a mass of empty vessels, colorless, humorless, detached, eyes glazed over with a semi-smile etched onto their faces. they had crossed over. i had lost them. i suddenly felt very alone.

“do you get it?” the guy sitting next to me asked. i turned to face him. he looked positively giddy. “life is meaningless,” he said, “so we should just enjoy it and quit worrying about what everything means. that’s so awesome!”

“yeah,” i said, “i got it — years ago. you’ve never heard anyone say that life was meaningless before? didn’t you read ‘The Stranger’ in high school? this is just rehashed existentialism. it’s not that awesome.”

the idea that i was being a bitch didn’t escape me, nor did it bother me much. the idea that i paid $420 and wasted three days on a clichéd motivational seminar that amounted to nothing more than “seize the day” bothered me A LOT.

the dinner break came and i congregated with my newly transformed friends, who were all sorts of happy. it was as though they were all part of a group orgy where everyone came at the same time, everyone except for me. i tried not to play Debbie Downer during dinner and instead ride on the coattails of their good vibrations, which was easy to do as their positivity was quite contagious. i found myself getting contact high.

i also found myself still getting criticized by the group, this time for rejecting the transformation, but i countered their arguments with accusations that they were making meanings out of my actions — meanings Landmark would not approve of.

after dinner, i would congregate with my fellow Landmarkians for one final time. there was a “graduation ceremony” the following Tuesday that i skipped, the one we were encouraged to bring our friends and family to (even if that meant flying them into town) so they could learn about the transformative possibilities of Landmark.

clearly, i didn’t believe in these possibilities for myself, at least not if they were administered by Landmark. while i could get behind some of the coursework — such as examining one’s past in order to make peace with it and living life to the fullest — the mildly abusive coaching sessions, the nonsensical lingo, the emphasis on obedience masked as integrity and the discouragement of independent thought make Landmark Education a company i could never give another dollar to.

because even though Landmark claims to give participants their lives back, it can also take their lives from them. Landmark understands better than anyone the human inclination toward creating meaning, and after chipping away at our identities for two days, Landmark fills the empty space that it created with its dogma. it made sure to do all the thinking for us, with homework every night and assignments at every break that deprived us of any time we could have spent thinking for ourselves.

Landmark filled the gaps, owning us, dominating us, brain-washing us by erasing our personalities and chasing away our quirks and idiosyncrasies — things from our pasts that may scar us, but that also define us as fully formed individuals. instead, we were left with a blank slate on which to create a future of our own making, a blank slate we are told we can do anything we want with.

but we can’t do what we want; we can only do what Landmark wants, because we are no longer in control. and Landmark wants us to take more classes, to hand over more money, to enroll our friends and family in our transformed lives, otherwise our great experiences might end. this is why Angie insisted we drink no alcohol or take drugs during the process. Landmark wanted to be our drug. and it became a drug akin to cocaine, whose addicts feel invincible.

why would we ever want it to end? Landmark has made us feel alive again by re-engaging our senses and awakening us to a world of possibilities that we knew existed yet somehow could never access. Landmark helps us access it now, because Landmark’s promise is power — a power it’s convinced us can only be found in its coursework, even though it’s resided in us all along.

i don’t doubt that plenty of individuals have benefited from Landmark’s coursework, and i admit that i felt invigorated in the weeks immediately following the Forum, as i would have after taking any motivational seminar (which is all the Landmark Forum is). but in time that vigor faded and life became average again.

i suppose i could have returned to the Center and gotten my next fix by enrolling in another course that would have made me feel invincible, only to come down again and then re-enroll and re-enroll until my savings were depleted. but cheesecake is much cheaper. hell, even cocaine is cheaper.

so even though i never suspended my disbelief and reached Landmark’s nirvana of transformation, i am glad i took the Forum. if nothing else, it reminded me of a few basic truths about life and reawakened a few dreams i intend to accomplish in this one. it also helped me appreciate my past as something meaningful that should be cherished instead of discarded, even the miserable parts.

and, despite all its attempts not to, Landmark actually strengthened my personal belief system, making me even more secure in who i am and how i think, so much so that i could fail a self-help seminar and feel just fine about it.

Status Change

i’m single again. actually, i’ve been single for months but circumstances kept Mo and i living together until he was able to secure new accommodations and move out, which he did just a few days ago. so now i’m living alone again, which i suppose makes me officially single.

to commemorate the occasion, i made the (always dramatic) status change on Facebook, moving from In a Relationship to Single. at least i bypassed that nonsensical It’s Complicated phase, though living with an ex-boyfriend does tend to complicate one’s relationship status. i do not recommend it.

the reasons behind our split are also complicated, but ultimately involve some longstanding issues we could never seem to resolve, issues that needed to be resolved before we could move forward as a couple. what those issues are are none of your fucking business. i will say that they do not concern cheating, lying, stealing or any of that type of salacious drama.

if i’m close to you in real life, you probably already know this news anyway. if i know you and haven’t discussed this with you before, i never plan to so don’t ask. and please save your sad eyes and “time heals all wounds” clichés for someone who needs them because there are few things i hate more than being pitied. i already know i’ll be fine.

the truth is i’ve already had a few months to get accustomed to my new status as a single person and i’ve been around the block enough times to know that the world will not end because of my heartache. so truly, i am doing fine. i suppose i could say more about it and maybe should write some sappy referendum on love and life and loss, but i don’t really feel like it right now.

One-Hit Wonders: May 2010

as expected, searches for the Landmark Forum have invaded the keywords pulling up my blog this month. and yes, i know i owe you the last installment of my Landmark experience. (it will be published this week, promise!) the best of the non-Landmarkian others are below.

• site:millatimes.com diaper
• chronicles of extermination
• guy on reality tv show gets sprayed by a skunk video
• wife, tits, blogspot
• school hunks#ii=25
• accidentally swallowed a crab shell
• automatic drip tits
• how to stop a tree stump from smelling
• how do i meet milla? i think she is hot.
• peacemaker weed
• suppository straitjacket
• i slept with john taylor duran
• does johnny depp own the antelope valley mall

American Idol Double Feature

Photo courtesy Osmosis Online

Dish-Interested: Cancel American Idol
Has anyone besides me been watching the hot mess that is American Idol this season? And if you have been watching, do your eyes and ears also regularly revolt against you by spontaneously catching fire?

Granted, it’s not the worst piece of entertainment that ever existed, but it’s so much worse than it used to be that it’s become almost unwatchable. It’s like the difference between seeing Madonna perform today versus seeing her perform in her heyday. Sure, you can still catch a glimmer of her former fabulous self, but even more noticeable are the tell-tale signs that you’re seeing a has-been clawing at her forever-gone former glory. In other words, it’s sad, sad, and sad.

And sad-sad-sadly, American Idol has reached the same past-its-prime status, where its best work is decidedly behind it. Anyone who has doubts about this needs only to consult...

next up is my second article for Metacritic.com, which i plan to do a lot more writing for in the coming months.

Ranked: American Idol Seasons 1-9
After nine seasons, five judges, hundreds of contestants and thousands of auditions, Fox’s American Idol has cemented its position as one of the most successful shows in television history. It’s the seminal rags-to-riches story, making overnight stars out of its musical hopefuls whose fates are determined by a voting public.

Perhaps it’s this accessibility that makes Idol so universally appealing, as fans have a say in the outcome and can vote for their hometown heroes. Sprinkle in some taciturn judges, celebrity musical guests and plenty of “pitchy” performances and you have the recipe for...

Summer Reality TV Preview: 15 Shows to Watch

because i can never be busy enough, i've taken on Reality TV Writer duties for Metacritic, an awesome website that gets actual traffic (unlike this one). my first piece had me writing about the hottest reality shows to keep you cool this summer.

wow, did i actually write that? i can't believe they hired me to put sentences together, though i'm glad they did because it means i'm that much closer to getting the book deal that will make me rich and famous! (a girl can dream. don't ruin my fantasy.)

It’s time to get real

With temperatures ticking upward and episodes of American Idol winding down, reality TV aficionados will need new unscripted entertainment to occupy those hot summer nights spent indoors with the air conditioning up and the television blaring. Thankfully, five brand new shows and ten returning series will help fill the void.

Among the new shows are peeks into the mystery-laden world of ghosts, doctors, artists and mental disorders. The returning series feature old favorites such as The Bachelorette, Intervention, and the second season of MTV’s smash hit Jersey Shore, which promises to showcase a summer vacation far more exciting than yours or mine...

Stuff and Things

when i haven’t been busy writing up my experience at the Landmark Forum (final installment forthcoming), i have been busy with other stuff, none of it particularly “transformative.” there are other writings going on, some of which will be published here soon enough, and there are life-in-flux changes going on, also soon-to-be published.

in general, life has been alright in that could-be-better, could-be-worse sort of way. freelance work has slowed considerably in the past few months right as my social life has picked up. it seems as though everyone is busy having a birthday party or a drinks thing, or maybe a gallery opening or a Mother’s Day meal or a visit into town for the weekend. i have accepted almost every invitation extended to me and plan to continue doing so. i see a social summer in my future.

in other news, my dreams of an exterior home remodel have been put on hold (again), this time indefinitely — or at least until the lousy housing market turns a corner and gives me some equity i can pull out, only to put back in. until then i’m looking at completing a few smaller projects to achieve my much-needed sense of domestic accomplishment. so perhaps the bedrooms will finally get their closet doors and maybe my ass will get a new couch to sit on.

also ahead are tentative travel plans — a trip to the east coast in the fall to visit friends and family — and a weekend jaunt to San Francisco. if i’m lucky, i can squeeze a long weekend to Portland somewhere in there and also another trip with my girlfriends to the day spa in Ojai. (that last one is already scheduled.)

otherwise, i can’t believe it’s the middle of May already and that half the year has slipped away from me. as in years past, i always think i should have more to show at this point, that i should have been a productive powerhouse these past six months but instead have been wasting too much time and not saving nearly enough money. i’m not even sure where i think i should be exactly, but it never feels like where i actually am.

i need to work on that. i need to work on a lot of things. or maybe i don’t need to do any work. maybe i should just sit still for a change and try to appreciate the moment.