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Silent Night, Holy Mulholland

3 Jan

Happy 2015!

holiday door

If you have given me the honor of being a regular reader, you may have noticed that I haven’t blogged for a long time. I kept trying to do so, coming up with cute, funny, or ironic phrases and ideas about how I was feeling, and what I was doing. But it didn’t work; I kept going to bed early, sleeping late, cancelling fun activities with friends. A yearly occurrence: worsening depression.

Bow on sidewalk

One wouldn’t be able to see it necessarily; because I’ve experienced clinical depression for so many decades I know how to cover it. (Close friends see it, damn them.)

Me with tree on head My depression isn’t so serious that anyone worries about me hurting myself, but I do take meds, and I do see a (GREAT) therapist once a week. Twice during the months of November and December.

The (GREAT) “holiday season” and I are not on good terms.

devil santa

‘Tis the anniversary of my parents’ deaths, and a time I feel particularly alone. Goody for me, I know: A LOT of people find Christmastime depressing–because it’s a consumerist GOB STOPPER, and because of intense pressure to have fun, love your family, and celebrate with grand gifts,  delicious food, festive parties.

The Christmas cards start piling up: everyone seems to be healthy and successful and wearing matching pajamas. As for me, I am feeling bad about 1) my book manuscript being rejected without so much as a word of explanation, 2) my professional identity being uncertain (no word of explanation there either),  and 3) my love life having fallen into a chasm of nothing, weirdness, and more nothing (would you believe no word of explanation?!). There’s also a 4), 5), and 6), but I’m even more tired of my woes than the dear ones who listen to me talk about them.

Manageable, of course, my troubles: I have food, a roof, and great friends. And yet the depression this year was bad.

Estes Park

A lot of days I accomplished nothing but showering, and even that task was arduous. If you have depression or love someone who does, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, please understand that depression is not being sad. It’s losing a sense of self.
shadow self

On the days when I could get out of my apartment, I saw some things that cheered me up. L.A. has a refreshing “take” on  December:

X-Mas colors:
palms with stockings

Honoring the historical Jesus:

Me with tree on head

Stockings on the mantle:

palms with stockings

Other times I saw displays that made me feel like crawling down Rodeo Drive on my hands and knees.

Christmas happpiness on Rodeo

The day I saw a homeless guy actually crawling down Rodeo I gave him a dollar and chastised myself for being a big fat whiner.

When depression hits, I feel like an alien watching the humans. (Not like Scarlett Johansson in “Under the Skin”;  she is, after all, getting her needs met. GO SJ!) When not feeling alien, I imagine myself  a snake that cannot slither out of a suffocating skin. Or a small animal trying to claw its way out of a sink hole. To no avail.

This year, my brilliant new shrink, and my brilliant old friends– dragging me out of the apartment–provided solace and some relief. So did…Mulholland Drive.

Mulholland with Fence

I can’t explain this exactly, but every time I set out on Mulholland Drive for my tutoring jobs in Studio City and Bel Air, I felt as if I were almost able to wriggle out of the tight scaly skin around my soul, as if someone had offered a hand that might pull my rodent self out of the sink hole.

Mulholland with light and road sign

A road. Curve after curve. On High.

Mulholland love 2Driving Mulholland, I feel airy, light, an eligible flyer.

The view is surreal: waves of soft hilly terrain, enormous ocean of sky, congregations of cacti.

mulholland drive cacti view

On Mulholland, being an alien seems OK; in that lofty and arid setting, what a human is “supposed to be” seems as distant as the mansions embedded in the landscape. (Does anyone really live there?)

Now that the holidays–with their happy shiny expectations–are no longer being piped through airwaves and media narratives, I’m feeling better. I hope, Dear Reader, that  you enjoyed November and December 2014 as much as possible, and have fun stuff to look forward to in 2015.

I also hope you have  a spot where you are surrounded by light, a place on earth that reminds you that we are tiny beings in a grand design, a location where you see yourself moving forward,  even when feeling  stuck, or lost.

shoes, sad

Or absent.

Mulholland love 3

A path. Ahead.

Las Vegas # 3 feet on the way home

For everything there is a season.

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Beach Day Birthday Or, Dear Reader I Touched Ben’s Knee

30 Jul

The Place: Santa Monica. The Event: my wink-wink 39th birthday. The Objective: Sun, Fun, Friends, and Son.  I got a room at a little place called  Bayside Motel for Natasha and her daughter Katruna. It was 60’s style with white and green tiles and itsy-bitsy decks–though we didn’t get one. We didn’t care, the place reminded Natasha and me of motels where we’d stayed in the Florida Keys around Christmas when we were teenagers and drove down there with my mom.

Birthday 2014 Nic and me in dayAfter checking in, we went to the beach. When Natasha goes to the beach it’s like we are in a four-star restaurant and have to get just the right table. We need the perfect view and appropriate beach neighbors. Usually I tolerate the forty- five minute search for the our beach patch, but because it was my birthday I  just plunked down my stuff any old where and Natasha didn’t say a word. Katruna and I headed for the water and body- surfed, me screaming like a mimi. Then we made dinosaur bone sand sculptures. I’d bought the dinosaur mold in honor of my age, and Katruna was all about making sand sculpture. As you do when you are young and fun like Katruna.

birthday 2014 Katrina in the sand

Or middle-aged and immature like me.

Birthday 2014 Me in glasses

It was my birthday and I’d play in the sand if I wanted to.

Birthday 2014 dinosaur in the sand

As good ol’ Longfellow once wrote, “Lives of great men yadda yadda yadda/Sublime yadda yadda/Footprints on the the sands of time with dinosaur molds/Godzilla, and then it’s time to drink/Tequila.”

Our next stop.

Birthday 2014 Katrina and tequila

Then Natasha and Katruna gave me some beautiful gifts–including a clutch which I mistook for a glittering piece of sequined pizza. (I tried to be polite about a really weird gift.)

birthday 2014 eating purse WE HAD OODLES OF FUN THAT NIGHT. And we confused  more than a few men–a duty that we do not take lightly. At a certain point, Natasha told me to put down the glowstick, we were leaving. Natasha, you see,  is four months older than I. Prudent and wise, that one.

We trooped back to Bayside and slept like wheatgrass.

wheatgrass

In the morning, we walked around and eventually ate breakfast at a place where some guy was singing loudly at the bar about his dog. Then he paid us a compliment and tipped his hat and went back to singing about his dog. It’s like that in Santa Monica. Time to return to Beverly Hills. Thank you, Dear N and K for an amazing Birthday Girls’ Night Out!!!!!

birtHDAY 2014 N, K, ME AT WATER GRILL

After we returned to Beverly Hills, Noah picked me up and drove to Malibu for seafood.

birthday 2014 Noah licking lips in Hungry Catbirthday 2014 Noah attacking seafood stew

That boy likes his seafood. It was one of the best meals I’ve had in California!!!!

The only thing that could make such a night better would be if Johnny Depp showed up.  Obviously that wasn’t going to happen. But Ben Affleck did. Noah saw him come out of the bathroom, and then Noah sauntered by his table to make sure it was him. Ben seemed to be with his agent. They were both talking with their hands. Ben has bulked up–probably for  whatever new role he has.

I told Noah to go over and get his autograph and he said, “No way.” And then, “But you go, Mom. You love this kind of thing.” I didn’t know what he meant by “this kind of thing,” and I didn’t want to know. I walked straight across the room straight at Ben Affleck, hating and loving myself at the same time. I asked for a photo. Ben Afflck made room for me to sit next to him. Noah had the camera ready. Ben and I leaned together. His head touched mine. I was afraid–very afraid–that I was going to pee in my dress.

birthday 2014 Ben and meInstead I put my hand on his knee. I didn’t mean to but I did. Then Noah and I left.  Squealing like the last little piggy all the way home.

Noah dropped me off.  Alone with balloons, I considered the weekend.

birthday 2014 balloons and legsSun, Fun, Friends, Son. And a Star! Another year, another adventure. NOT complaining!

But, Dear Reader…Johnny?