Brother Against Brother, Cousin Against Cousin

Hey Blog.  So I'm working on putting together a post detailing all the (mis)adventures I've had since February, but in the meantime, let's talk about what's going on in my life today.  The answer: drama, drama, drama!

Mixed results... I'm not the father but also I might be turning into a crab-person.

No, not "Maury" drama... I'm talking classy re-enactment drama.  See, I recently got roped into a civil war re-enactment.  That's the thing about Los Angeles... you are going to be handed a script, and you are going to be asked to put on a hoop skirt, and you are going to act, goddammit.  Our neighbourhood (grandly titled the "Historic West Adams District") has an equally grandly titled "Heritage Society" that puts on soirees, garden parties, and the occasional tour.  This year, the tour of the Angelus-Rosedale cemetary focuses on the Civil War, and each 2-hour tour visits various graves, each of which has an actor in costume who talks about their life and their role in the civil war.

 For example, I played a guy in a bowler shirt and a fedora.  No, but seriously, I'm the one on the left.

I signed up as a volunteer for the tour ("prop and set design" was rather broadly interpreted to mean "understudy) and got assigned to play Mary Davis, cousin of Jefferson Davis and wife of Robert C. Flournoy, Confederate officer.  Along with my frenemy Salina Hall Carlisle (cousin of Abe Lincoln, wife of a Union officer, also born in Kentucky in 1843 and also buried at the cemetery), it was my job to greet people to the tour, tell them some Civil War facts (1/13 men lost one or more limbs; 1/4 men never came home; 135 out of 139 of the students at Old Miss signed up for Company A of the 11th Mississippi, known as the University Greys, and suffered 100% causalities at Pickett's Charge at Gettsyburg), tell them about the sponsors, and send them on their way.  There was about 7 pages worth of dialogue between me and Salina (real name Kate).  It went spectacularly, as evidenced by the fact that after one tour a southern woman informed me that I "done them proud," and multiple people inquired if I was from the south.  (No, but I did see "Gone with the Wind" the night before.  Dark-ass movie, let me tell you.)

I'm pleased that it went so well; I completely held my own among the other actors (some of whom are trying to make a career out of it, like many here in LA), and definitely plan on volunteering next year.  WAHA said they'd be glad to have me!

Speaking of kin-feuds, though, I'm sorry to say there has been some other drama as well, of the more internet-sanctioned variety.  It's no surprise, of course, that it involves Andrew's family.  To keep it short, I've been barred from the wedding of his in-town cousins, Ben and Cara.

They told me I had to pick all the lentils out of the fireplace or something, 

and then said I couldn't come anyway because I was dirty.

See, first they said it was because of my "condition."

Y'know, the crab person thing.

No, wait!  Social anxiety, apparently.  See, they were benevolently barring me from attending!

So when I pointed out I don't actually have social anxiety as like, a medical condition, and mostly only experience it around Andrew's shitty, judgmental family...

Pictured above.

...they switched their story and said that actually, see, their guest list has ballooned and they were paying for it themselves and it was just too expensive.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I do have some major anxiety around people and I've posted about that before.  But it's not a diagnosed medical condition, just a thing I need to get over, and frankly it's not their place to tell me how to "deal with" my "condition."  That's on me.  And barring me from the wedding isn't benevolent in any context.  Even if I had a fucking fear of weddings (nuptiaphobia?), an invitation would still be appreciated.  Unless I had a fear of wedding invitations.

But like I said, they quickly changed their story and said the guest list had gotten too long and so they just didn't want to pay for me.  (Because nothing says "classy" like rescinding invitations.)

Okay, and so the other thing is...

How did their guest list "balloon?"  Did they leave invitations lying around at the YMCA or something?  Shouldn't they know everyone they invited and have already accounted for that?  Is M.C. Hammer planning their wedding?  How did they fuck up their finances so badly that they have to start diagnosing people with social anxiety to get the cost down?

So then Andrew tried to suggest that we just attend the nuptials, you know, to be seen at the ceremony and show our support, and skip the reception.  This saves them the cost of TWO meals and also they don't have to talk to us, besides from a handshake and a "congratulations."  But they still said no.

Then, finally, Andrew called them out on being petty and it turns out the real reason is that they were offended by my behaviour at Rosh Hashanah dinner... over a year ago.  I had a little too much to drink and was basically loud and told a few rather tactless jokes.  People raised eyebrows.  

Actually, though, they didn't.  Everyone was really jolly and I assumed, you know, a 20-something crowd of people from Hollywood were okay with a few risqué jokes.  Apparently not.  I can't believe they've been sitting on this for so long; I also have trouble believing it got me dis-invited from a fucking wedding.  I mean, if I'd been drunk, yelling, and breaking shit, okay, I get that.  But we're talking "being a little too jokey."  I wrote Cara an apology but they still don't want me to come.  Because of, you know.  My condition.

Now, I'm someone who holds little to nothing sacred.  But certain things, like weddings and Christmases and funerals, are things I would never, ever fuck up.  And it really hurts to be accused of being the type of person to do that.

As an exercise, Andrew and I asked ourselves how to best ruin a wedding, if invited.  We think it would look something like this:

RABBI: If anyone can think of a reason why these two should not be wed...

JULIE (coughing loudly): Oh no!  My... WEDDING PNEUMONIA!

[JULIE falls to the ground, coughing blood.  She crawls over to BEN and CARA, coughing blood on CARA'S white wedding dress.  With a gasp, ANDREW runs to where her body lies crumpled at the altar, and falls to his knees by her side.]

ANDREW (holding JULIE'S hand): Julie!  I told you that you weren't well enough!  O cruel fate, to take my beloved from me at this joyous occasion!

JULIE: Andrew... I've always... loved you...

ANDREW: Hush, my darling!  I shall do right by you... here... now... at the end.  RABBI!  Quickly!  There's no time!

RABBI: Do you, Andrew, take Julie to be your lawfully wedded wife?

ANDREW (tearfully): Till death... do us part.

RABBI: I now pronounce you... [lifts Julie's limp wrist, feeling for a pulse] ...dead.

ANDREW (shaking fist at sky):  WHY?!  WHY, DAMN IT ALL!

[He drops his head for several silent seconds as the crowd watches.  Then, slowly, he raises his head with a look of determined strength on his face.] 

Ladies and gentleman... thank you for being here... in my time of loss.  The reception will be held next door.  You're all welcome to join me for drinks and cake.

[The wedding having been thoroughly taken over, the guests shuffle out to the reception.  As they open the ballroom's double doors, they see Julie, alive and well, wearing a wedding gown and visibly drunk.]

JULIE: Welcome, everyone!  [She notices CARA in her blood-stained wedding dress.]   ...Tacky, Cara.  Real tacky.

You guys can just mail me my Oscar.

Joking aside, seriously.  What dicks.  Your wedding shouldn't a place for you to demonstrate your petty grudge against someone you met ONCE.

Of course, the whole family's known for months and been talking about it amongst themselves.  Undoubtedly the whole clan thinks I deserve this.  Except their mother, who unironically told Andrew that it was sad how everyone was also "picking on me."

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Oh, and speaking of pot, get this.  So I've been on this sobriety kick (46 days today, baby!) and I asked everyone to please, you know, be cool around me.  Well, Jack has this roommate (who actually ceased to be a roommate like, a month ago, and is now just a squatter) who is a total stoner who I have literally never seen sober.  So I asked, you know, no drugs around me.  Pretty fucking reasonable request.  I guess you can see where this is going... Jack invited me over with his assurances that he'd totally talked to Eddie and that Eddie was totally going to be cool.  You can guess what happened next.

Jack awkwardly chuckled instead of standing up for me, and I left and vowed never to come back.

So... bummer.  Let me tell you, LA is probably the hardest city in the world to go sober in.  They sell alcohol everywhere.  If you go to a Laundromat and try to buy a single-detergent from one of those coin-operated machines, a tiny bottle of Gallo comes out.

But the important thing is that I'm staying clean and hopefully Jack is learning what happens when you ask all your potential roommates if they're "420 friendly."  You get a bunch of assholes, that's what.  Because everyone here in LA is "420 friendly," but the people who call themselves that are dicks.  This is also known as the Libertarian Principle.

Welp, that's about all for today, Blog.  Tune in next time for a huge photo dump and updates on my ongoing sobriety, no thanks to Andrew's incredibly judgmental and stress-inducing family.  For now, I'll leave you with this:

My Favourite Poem

"Turtle"

Kay Ryan

Who would be a turtle who could help it?
A barely mobile hard roll, a four-oared helmet,
She can ill afford the chances she must take
In rowing toward the grasses that she eats.
Her track is graceless, like dragging
A packing-case places, and almost any slope
Defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical,
She’s often stuck up to the axle on her way
To something edible. With everything optimal,
She skirts the ditch which would convert
Her shell into a serving dish. She lives
Below luck-level, never imagining some lottery
Will change her load of pottery to wings.
Her only levity is patience,
The sport of truly chastened things.

Updates to resume!  I will fill you in on the meanderings of my little life and stop slacking off on my blog.  (You're welcome?)

Edit: This poem is now on my sidebar.  ...You're welcome? 

Beauty IS the Beast: An Essay on Gaston

If you're anything like me (God forbid), you probably take random things too seriously.  And some of those random things are things that aren't meant to be taken seriously at all, even a little bit... like Disney movies.

I feel like anyone who didn't know me who was reading this blog would a) think I was WAY more into Disney than I actually am, and b) have no life because who the fuck would read the rarely-updated blog of a total stranger?  (Sorry, stranger fans, for calling you losers.)  But the truth is, I'm not obsessed with Disney; I just enjoyed their animated movies and think that they have re-watch value in adulthood.  Well, mostly.

See, the thing is, as an adult, you notice things you might not notice as a child.
For example, you might notice some of the characters are more shit-headed than previously thought, or that others are less culpable than initially interpreted to be.  Gaston from Beauty in the Beast is one of Disney's ultimate shitheads who you can't help but feel sorry for if you really think about it.  And I, once again taking things far too seriously, thought about it and wrote a 5-page essay about why Gaston deserves a break.  Blog, without further ado, I present to you...

Beauty is the Beast:

Gaston’s Blamelessness in his Role as Villain

Gaston, the main antagonist of Disney's classic movie "Beauty and the Beast," appears at face value to have no positive role, making his death at the end of the movie a cause for celebration.  To justify the death of a person in a children's animated movie, the person in question has to be beyond redemption: a truly evil character.  Yet for all of Gaston's faults, his character is not beyond redemption, and his faults not objectively cruel; the following essay will argue that each of the traits that makes Gaston a villain (close-minded crudeness, narcissism, aggressiveness, and manipulativeness) are traits that are forgivable.  Their excusableness hails from two things: Gaston's lack of responsibility for having them, and Belle's willingness to accept them in other characters.  Together with Gaston's innocence and Belle's forgiveness of the same traits in the protagonist, this essay will prove that Gaston is not the villain he was meant to be, and his death undeserved.

When first introduced to us, Gaston is immediately demonstrated to be the villain by Belle's reaction to him.  Gaston’s character is described by Belle as “boorish” shortly after he proposes marriage to her.  Belle’s assessment is in line with what the audience has seen so far; in the third musical number, “Gaston,” the villagers sing about Gaston’s less-than-honourable talents, which include spitting, biting in wrestling matches, wearing muddy boots indoors, and having an incredibly thick neck.  Yet this musical number isn’t prompted by Gaston, but by his patsy, Le Fou.  Initially, Gaston does not take part in the song; Le Fou and the other tavern patrons sing it to cheer him up.  And when first introduced to Gaston, the audience is first introduced to Le Fou praising him (“…you’re the greatest… in the whole world!”), which prompts his narcissist response (“I know.”).  So while Belle’s description of Gaston as “boorish” isn’t far off the mark, it should not be seen as the audience as a bad thing.  In Belle’s village (that is, the world in which Gaston lives), his boorish traits are worthy of praise and admiration.  Le Fou even states that “everyone is awed and admiring [of Gaston]” during Gaston’s song.  No one ever reprimands Gaston for his bad behavior because in their world, it isn’t bad behavior at all; Belle is literally the only character we ever see in the entire movie criticize Gaston.  This is a far cry from other Disney films in which the villain is feared, ostracized, or disliked by the majority of the other characters, particularly after demonstrating their true colours (consider Ursula, Scar, the evil queen, Captain Hook, or Sher Khan).  (Also consider that well-liked villains are usually hiding their bad behavior from the protagonists; Jafar in Aladdin hypnotizes the Shah, and other villains, like Edgar from the Aristocats, rely on subtly to carry out their nefarious schemes.)  Gaston never hides his personality, intentions, or motivations from the villagers and never receives any negative feedback, so he has no reason whatsoever to change his behavior.  In this way, Gaston can be seen as a product of the village; if he is cast as the antagonist, then the rest of the villagers (indeed, Belle’s entire world) should also be considered bad.   Oddly, when the Beast slurps his soup messily at the dinner table, Belle’s reaction is to compromise by sipping the soup from the bowl instead of using a spoon.  Unwilling to make excuses or concessions for Gaston, she readily adapts for the Beast while staying with him at the castle.

Along with “boorish,” Belle calls Gaston “brainless.”  Gaston supports this accusation in their first meeting, when he takes her book and asks how she can read it, as it hasn’t got any pictures.  Belle’s response is that you have to use your imagination.  In this brief interaction, the audience is expected to dislike Gaston for his anti-intellectual statements.  But once again, the audience is not in the same realm as Belle and Gaston.  First and foremost, it is worth noting that Gaston and Belle live in provincial France, during a time when people are still using wood stoves and horses; although there is a small book shop, it is clear that in this setting, books are not a commonplace item and Gaston might not have ready access to them.  (It is also worth noting that the original fairy tale dates back to 1740; the book shop's presence is an anachronistic plot device that serves to tout Belle's intelligence.)  Secondly, Gaston has no reason to want to read books at all; the village as a whole does not value literacy.  Recall that the things they sang Gaston’s praises for were “manly” things that involved physical prowness, not intellect.  What’s more, in the very first musical number (“Belle”) the villagers describe Belle as “odd, strange, dazed, and distracted” because of her reading; they state that Belle is very different and somewhat estranged from the rest of their society because of her love of learning.  Based on this, there’s no reason Gaston should want to read, and his confusion over why Belle would is entirely understandable.  By contrast, the Beast has been locked up in his castle for over a decade with an entire library, and when asked to read aloud by Belle, admits that it’s been so long he’s not sure he remembers how to read.  Inexplicably, Belle offers to help him – a far cry from the eye roll she gave Gaston earlier.  Unlike Gaston, the Beast does not have to fear anyone’s judgment, and also has ready access to plenty of books; yet he, like Gaston, shuns reading.  Belle’s gentle encouragement of the Beast and her disdain for Gaston are surprisingly  counter to one another;  Gaston’s “brainlessness” is even more forgivable than the Beast’s, as no one ever aides him in any attempt to change.

Has anyone ever considered his aggressiveness is a side-effect of high cholesterol?

While Gaston’s aggressiveness is hinted at numerous times using his hunting as a metaphor, Gaston is not shown to be particularly devious until after Belle spurns his marriage proposal, when he decides to hunt down and kill the Beast.  For his proposal, Gaston gathers the town together outside her house, goes inside to propose, and is “thrown out” when Belle opens the door as he is leaning in to kiss her.  The result is that Gaston falls into the mud in front of the town.  There are a few important points here that the audience is asked to ignore: first, that Belle embarrassed Gaston in front of everyone, and second, that Belle never gives Gaston a direct, assertive “no.”  Belle never says she doesn’t want to marry him, but makes up excuses like that he’s “too good for her.”  When Gaston describes “having seven or eight,” Belle asks “Dogs?”  She knows Gaston is talking about children (she is, after all, intelligent), and even if she didn’t, she wants neither dogs nor children with Gaston.  But instead of stating this directly to Gaston (a character she considers to be stupid, who may not be able to take her hints), Belle drags out the conversation and never gives Gaston a simple answer.  All this being said, one can still argue that Gaston’s reaction (killing the Beast) is extreme.  Yet, again, the audience is asked to ignore a few important points: first, that Gaston has no idea the Beast is intelligent, and never hears him speak, and second, that the entire village also believes the Beast to be dangerous and insists on killing him.  When Gaston first sees the Beast, the Beast is roaring and appears dangerous.  Gaston has no evidence that the Beast is safe, except for Belle saying he is, and so far, Belle has not been a reliable source of information to Gaston.  The rest of the village agrees whole-heartedly with Gaston that the Beast must be destroyed.  Once again, Gaston’s actions receive complete support from everyone except Belle; Gaston’s desire to kill a dangerous animal is treated as heroic, not cruel.  Although Gaston does taunt the Beast while attempting to kill him, the Beast never responds with words, and from Gaston’s perspective, the Beast seems not to have any idea what he’s saying, so this action, while aggressive, should not be considered maliciousness so much as crude.

The final way in which Gaston acts as the villain is when he attempts to coerce Belle into marriage by keeping her father prisoner; this, much moreso than his other faults, seems like an unjustifiable and despicable action, yet like all of his other attributes, can be explained in the context of the world he occupies.  First of all, someone has already wrongfully imprisoned Belle’s father: the Beast.  Belle falls in love with the Beast despite his holding her father hostage; not only does he imprison Maurice, but Maurice becomes sick due to neglect while imprisoned, to the point that Belle thinks he might die.  Unlike the Beast, who has no motivation for holding Maurice against his will, Gaston has a decent justification; Gaston believe Maurice is insane (as does the rest of the town), and his plan to “imprison” Maurice is to call the insane asylum and have him carted away.  The rest of the town, thinking Maurice to be mentally deficient, stands by and does nothing when Maurice is being taken to asylum.  Earlier, when Gaston describes his plan to blackmail Belle, Le Fou bursts into a reprise of Gaston’s song and praises him for a good plan.  It is a good plan from the villagers’ perspective, because either Maurice will go to the asylum (where he belongs, as far as they are concerned), or he will be free but under the care of Belle, who will be married to Gaston (who is a local hero and presumably capable of handling a single crazy old man).  Recall that Belle still has not said no to Gaston, so although he is technically blackmailing her, Gaston might only consider this as persuasion; Belle’s earlier statement that Gaston is “too good for her” might have led him to believe that, while she won’t marry him unless blackmailed, she isn’t actually against it.  Only one person in the movie thinks the plan to be despicable – the asylum director, who takes Gaston’s money and calls the plan literally “despicable.”  He immediately follows this statement with the exclamation, “I love it!”  Gaston, who momentarily might have had second thoughts, is once again encouraged.  The town sings that they look forward to celebrating his wedding, and no one finds it strange, wrong, or coercive of him to send Maurice to the asylum in an attempt to win Belle’s heart.  Once again, it should be noted that, since everyone except Belle thinks Maurice is insane, it would not actually (from their perspective) be a bad thing for Maurice to go to the asylum.  It is also worth noting that the person who is going to get imprisoned, Maurice, earlier suggested Belle ought to consider Gaston for a friend and calls him a “handsome fellow.”  Even a person negatively affected by Gaston’s actions still approves of him.  The single moment in which Gaston might have been made to feel bad, or made aware of the cruelty of his actions, was immediately overshadowed with more praise from the asylum director; Gaston arguably has no idea that what’s he doing is wrong, because the whole village has agreed that he deserves Belle, and Belle has never directly said she doesn’t want to be with him.

 Pictured: Completely different.

While Gaston's character is certainly not a classic hero, each of his negative actions and qualities have a clear-cut motivation behind them and internal support from the townspeople.  Gaston, like his world, is imperfect, but cannot be expected to change to conform to Belle's standards as it would be opposed to everything he's ever experienced.   While the audience is asked to view him as a villain, he is the hero of the movie internally.  Viewed through the eyes of most of the other characters, his actions are good and meaningful.  In this sense, Gaston's death was a tragedy, undeserved and easily prevented if Belle had used the same interventions she had for the Beast.  Belle's willingness to rehabilitate one "villain" and not the other, leading to the second one's death, makes her the true villain; the audience's view of the Beast as a misunderstood loner and of Gaston as a self-absorbed bully when they share similar faults is a classic example of "popular-shaming."  Gaston is seen as a bully only because of the audience's conditioning to root for the underdog (ie, the Beast); and in this sense, Belle, the Beast, and all of the audience themselves become bullies to Gaston, whose only true crime was ignorance.

Alternate ways Gaston could have been a real villain / Beast could have been a real hero:

1) Re-title the movie.

2) Just once, have someone tell Gaston he's an asshat.  My favourite scenario?  Have him try to kill the Beast AFTER the Beast's transformation to a human.  Have him attack the prince and the villagers all exclaim, "What the hell Gaston?  Why are you being such a jerk?"  If Gaston continues to be a jerk after being asked to stop, he is a real bad guy.

3) Have Belle's love of the Beast be less Stockholm-y.  Instead of keeping her prisoner, have a different reason she's stuck in the castle with him.  Maybe they got snowed in, or Maurice is too sick to leave and Belle stays to care for him.  But falling in love with the Beast and giving him some rehab after being kept prisoner really sends kids the message that Gaston's real fuck-up wasn't being a dickwad, but not holding Belle hostage.

4)  Have Belle treat Gaston non-condedscendingly and have him continue being a dick.  What if she invited him to the book shop and he was rude to the shopkeep, and Belle told him to shut up, and he told her the date sucked and she sucked and she ought to keep her pretty girl mouth shut?  Now he's a real villain and we hate him, and we like Belle more for giving him a chance and being assertive.

5)  Tone down the Beast's aggressiveness.  Did anyone else forget that the Beast threatens Belle with physical violence?  Like, why is the Beast getting away with tearing shit up and screaming all the time?  In order for me to believe the Beast is only misunderstood, I need to see less flipping out and more being human.  Frankly, I think it's bullshit that he got a second chance after some of his behaviour.

I've taken the liberty of incorporating all five of my ideas into a single abbreviated alternative ending that fixes everything:

[OUTSIDE THE CASTLE, COURTYARD.  The TOWNSPEOPLE are gathered around BELLE and the BEAST, who has just transformed into the grotesque-looking PRINCE.]

BAKER: Sacre bleu!  The Beast was the Prince all along!

COOPER: That explains why we haven't been asked to pay tribute to the crown for like twenty years.

BOOKSHOP KEEPER: It also explains why the Beast was kind and gentle and soft-spoken, like Belle said, and not roaring dramatically for no reason!

BELLE: Yes, he let me stay in the castle through this terrible winter storm and treat my father for his non-specific illness.

SHEPHERD: What a swell guy!  I feel bad about trying to kill him based on his appearance!

[Suddenly, GASTON bursts into the centre of the gathering, looking CRAZED nd DISHEVELED, holding his shotgun.  He levels it at the grotesque-looking PRINCE, who pushes BELLE behind him because he's a NICE GUY.]

BAKER: Sacre bleu!  Gaston, you whackjob, put down your weapon!

GASTON: What?  Why?  I thought we all agreed I should shoot the Beast.

BLACKSMITH: He's the prince, though, actually.  We were all wrong.  The Beast shouldn't be killed and also reading is cool now.

GASTON (incredulous): What?? Le Fou, is this true?

LE FOU: Yes.  Put down the gun, Gaston.  No one has to die tonight.

GASTON: But... but... the Beast...

[The TOWNSPEOPLE all stare at him PITEOUSLY.  Gaston's hairy CHEST heaves as he attempts to understand their abrupt but necessary change of heart.  LE FOU puts a hand on GASTON'S shoulder, but GASTON shakes him off and squares his back.]

GASTON (pointing accusingly): I see how it is!  You've all turned!  You've all become like Belle, weak and pathetic!

FARRIER: No, Gaston.  We've just... we found a better way.

[EVERYONE holds HANDS.  In the background, KUMBAYA plays softly.]

GASTON: Gah!  This so... so freakin' gay!

PRINCE: Don't use homophobic language, Gaston.

GASTON (throwing up his hands and dropping his weapon): Fuck this shit.  Gaston out!

[GASTON turns and RUNS into the darkening FOREST, unable to change for the BETTER.  For moments after he leaves, there is SILENCE, followed by the HOWLING of WOLVES.]

FISHMONGER: I am sad that Gaston could not see the light like the rest of us.

BELLE: He is in a better place now.

[MORE WOLF HOWLING.]

CANDLESTICK: Wait, why haven't I transformed back yet?  And why was I punished for the prince being a dick in the first place?  And how is being a candlestick a punishment?  How is this supposed to teach me about being human?  And why don't my candles ever burn out?

[END.]

Okay... so admittedly, he's a little bit of a jerk here.

2013: Year in Review

After a long hiatus, you might have guessed that one of my resolutions would be updating this thing regularly.  Like, every other week at least.  Also something something lose weight something something saving money.

In my defense, my computer has remarkably low alcohol tolerance, so after I spilled wine on it the third time and it rolled over and died, it really became more of a "can't" than a "won't" sort of situation.

I suppose I ought to get you all caught up on my year, especially the last three months.  So here we go: the Top 5 and Bottom 5 events of my year.  We'll start with the bad because that's always juicier.

Top 5 Lousy Shit that Happened in 2013 

(Warnings: Gore, NSFL)

5)  Holy illness, Batman!!

One of the things that prevented me from blogging back in October was a sojourn in the hospital with pneumonia.  I don't think I've ever been sick enough to actually go to the hospital.  It started as a cold that I caught from Jack, beginning Friday.  Monday, I went into work, was sent home, and begged Andrew to take me to the emergency room, where it was revealed that the oxygen content of my blood was in the low 80 percent range and that I should, by all rights, have been unconscious.  An ambulance ride later I was at Marina del Rey hospital.  I was there for three days.  The whole experience is like a weird dream because my oxygen was so low; I have only vague, segmented memories that include watching daytime television with the twins and re-inserting an IV that the nurse put in badly.  When you're low on oxygen, that sort of things strikes you as a brilliant idea instead of a dumb one.  I was out of work for two weeks, during which time I was on oxygen tanks and couldn't even walk my own dogs.  Happy ending: I left with a pneumonia shot and a prescription for Cingular, which really helps control my asthma.

4)  Continued drama with the twin's mother.

Here pictured pretending to be nice to me while undoubtedly thinking up new reasons to hate me.

While I was in the hospital (remember, pneumonia!), she accused me of being scheming and manipulative.  Apparently the twins' sister was getting married that weekend and I totally constructed my pneumonia around that.  Seriously, isn't it traditional for the bride to be bridezilla and not her spastic, over-bearing mum?  Speaking of moms, my parents didn't bother calling at any time during this episode or even asking how I was after the fact.  Not that I expected much, but it'd be nice to know someone cared.  My bosses all called me multiple times in the hospital just to check up on me.  (Also, Ramiro finagled my sick time to ensure I would get paid for the entirety of my absence... even though I hadn't technically banked enough sick time to cover it.) 

3)  Got conned!

The crazy eyes should have been a huge tip-off.

So we learned a "lesson" I guess, but the whole point of couchsurfing was for me to make friends and help people out and maybe learn a little trust in my fellow man.  I still think of Jonathan sometimes and my overwhelming emotion is one of pity.  I wish things would go better for him and I feel bad he has to do what he does... or at least, that he thinks he has to.  Also I still can't believe he could stay with us a month and just take our shit from under our noses at the end of it.  No class, no respect.  But we recovered everything and I guess it was overall a pretty painless lesson to learn.  All the same, the whole experience kind of bummed me out and gave me yet another reason to look at the world with a sense of cynicism.  

2)  Wrecked my car.

Good-night, Sweet Prince.  2000-2013.

Well, I didn't wreck it... Andrew did.  We went to a Halloween party and he was our designated driver.
He had nothing to drink but still managed to somehow get into a massive wreck on the 10 freeway.  Incredibly, we all walked away from it without any injuries whatsoever, unless you count a bruise I got when I kicked open the door to leave the car.  (The airbags had gone off and the engine was smoking so I left IMMEDIATELY when I woke up.  I missed the wreck itself.  Andrew apparently hit one other car and knocked down a light pole.  Insurance is taking care of all that.)

1)  Alcoholism.

Cut myself down to the bone back in March after what we'll call a "tipsy tumble."

Far from getting away from this particular vice, I've found alcohol in Los Angeles to be extremely cheap and accessible.  I mean accessible like you can go to a laundromat and next to the little individual boxes of Tide in the dispenser you can buy mini-Gallo shots.  It's inescapable and since I have disposable income I've been drinking much more than I really wish I would.  I am working on this but like all vices it's not an easy one to let go of.

Top 5 Awesome Things that Happened in 2013

(Warnings: Tasteful Boobies, NSFW)

5)  Los Angeles

This is the single most Los Angeles-y picture I have.  It was taken after a brunch in Hollywood, during which Carlisle refused to eat an $8 poached egg.

What else can I say?  I moved here and have only grown to love it.  The house has really come together and unlike this time last year, I can really call this city home now.  Here's some touching pictures from Hannukah and the Museum of Natural History to really drive that point home.

4)  Bike

Wrecked car?  Excuse to get a motorcycle.  Vroom!

3)  The LA Pony and Critter Club

That's me riding Drafter.  She's a Clydesdale.  

I joined a group for people into animal roleplay, which is exactly what it sounds like.  This is just one of many ways I've been meeting people and I finally feel like I have friends and places to go.  This Christmas I went to five (five!) different holiday parties, one of them held at a beach house that included a guy in pinstripe plucking empty glasses out of your hand and offering you new drinks and hor 'doevres from a shiny-ass tray.  So, yeah, this has been awesome.  We missed the October fox hunt (human fox, dogs, and horses) but went to a Burner music festival instead, and I didn't even have to take off my paw print pasties.

2)  New job!  And promotion!

I legally can't show pictures of my lab so here's so generics of me cuddling animals I found lying around the city.  I also got my first level of certification (out of three) for AALAS (American Association for Labratory Animal Science), a minor pay increase, and a move to the main USC campus, which is within biking distance of my house and allows me to have lunch with Andy every day.

1)  Light on the horizon: a good year with my two best friends, doing what I want to do and having fun while doing it.

Overall, been a good year.  Chipping away at debt, getting involved in a serious relationship that's going somewhere, talking about buying a house, working on so many new projects (blankets and tea boxes mostly).  All my bad experiences have had silver linings and I wouldn't change a thing.  Something something inspiration something something waking up early or learning a new language.

Welcome home, 2014!

Best and Worst of September

Well, September was in like a lamb and out like a lion and it's just about time to wake up Greenday.

So what have I been up to?

With detox going moderately well I took up a few crafts, including croquet (which I haven't done in years), painting (just finished a tea box; picture to come), and setting up a terrarium (an installation piece I call “Dry,” featuring a mini-ecosystem that including blooming baby toes, hedgehog cacti, a hermit crab, and a brown praying mantis).

 You can see him on the top.

Things at work are going better than ever. I am to be moved to the other campus of USC sometime this year, which is much closer to my house, will let me bike to work, and will let me have lunch with Jack and Andrew, as well as a few friends I've made there, like Christina. It will also put me closer to AA meetings if I ever feel like subjecting myself to torture/free coffee.

About two weeks ago, though, I got a bit of a scare. Esther (a co-worker) came and found me and said Bruce (supervisor) wanted me. I found Bruce and he asked if I had plans for the weekend. I immediately said no, because I didn't and also because I assumed he was going to ask me to come in over the weekend.

“No, I mean like, in the evening,” he said.

“Er, no,” I said.

“Ramiro wants you to call him,” he said. “Do you have his cell? Do it somewhere private.” Now, Ramiro is Bruce's supervisor. So, so far all I know is that the “Big Boss” wants me to call him, in private, and somehow my Saturday evening is involved. My thoughts were that either things were about to get weird or that I was going to be fired or something. I was in a huge state of panic.

I called Ramiro and he informed me he had a dentist appointment, which seemed like a weird way for him to start the conversation. Then he explained he had 4 Dodgers tickets he couldn't use and asked if I'd like them.

[Pictures to come.]

I was so thrilled by the offer and so excited to take the twins out, and it just completely made my day. Ramiro keeps surprising me with what an awesome boss he is. The reason for the conversation being private? He didn't want anyone to have hurt feelings about not getting tickets. On top of that, Einstein's Bagels fucked up my order so bad they gave me an entire meal free. So all in all I was feeling pretty peppy.

The next week Andrew went to San Francisco for a conference, which would have sucked mega shit dicks in hell forever, if not for the fact that it meant Jack stayed with me that week. I was able to stay mostly sober (lapsed Thursday) but overall came through it well and had a nice time. At the end of the week, Jack caught a cold. He offered to leave but I preferred his company even with the chance of infection.

By Sunday I'd caught it full-on and was wheezing up a storm. Monday morning I barely made it to my car to get to work, and when I did get to work, Bruce sent me home since I clearly couldn't breathe. I asked Andrew to take me to the emergency room, where you get pretty good service if you carve “can't breathe” in shaky letters on the admittance paperwork. I was transferred from the ER to the Marina Del Rey hospital and was there until late Wednesday evening. The whole thing passed like a lucid dream because my blood's oxygen saturation was so low. I have vague memories of the food being terrible, the nurse at one point leaving a sharp in my bed (yeah), and getting the worst IV of all time in the back of my hand. (She was literally trying to force it into the vein and I ended up redoing it after she left.) Jack and Andrew stayed with me in the hospital and that was really the only good part. Chest x-rays determined my left lung had turned into SpongeBob SquarePants and was swimming more than breathing.   Back in the day they'd tell you you had consumption and send you back out to sweep the chimneys, but since this is California twenty-thirteen, a million different kinds of antibiotics, vaccines, and steroids ensued to prevent further infection and swelling.  Thank God for insurance; the whole she-bang only set us back about $600.

SpongeBob Lung can costs tens of thousands without it.

You'd think, after 25 years of breathing, my body would have figured it out by now, but no.

So anyway, Jack didn't get to see my discharge from the hospital since he had to get a flight to Pittsburgh. See, the twins' older sister got married Saturday, and the twins had planned to leave Wednesday. But with me in the hospital, Andrew decided to take a later flight (Thursday night). He called to let his sister know first, and she said, “Don't even bother coming.” But she's pretty emotional and it's her wedding so I can sort of understand where she's coming from. Andrew called his mother next. 

Here pictured socialising with her friends.

His mother, hearing the news, immediately said, “Oh my God that's terrible. Is she going to be okay? Is there anything I can do?”

Ha, ha. Just kidding. She accused me of being lying, scheming, and manipulative. She told Andrew if he didn't come to the wedding (something he never even considered; he was just going to be delayed a day) that it would do “irreparable harm to the family.” Because people totally go into the hospital and fake pneumonia to ruin their boyfriend's sister's wedding for some reason.

Andrew went off on her, only after I told him to. I'm sick of how he's always saying that she'll come around and that she'll learn the error of her ways with time and actions speak louder than words and so on and so forth. Just once I want him to get angry for me, and he was barely able to do it this time. His mother is one of the most paranoid, cruel people I've ever met and I've never done a thing to her; I think Andrew would rather pretend she's just confused than admit and confront reality. The reason she gets away with this sort of shit is that he and Jack basically allow it and never challenge her. My Aunt Marianne warned me about Jewish boys and their mothers, which seemed a little racist at the time and so far has been nothing but Gospel truth. (See how I made religion the theme of that last sentence there? ...writing!)

Anyway, Andrew got on his flight and went to the wedding. I got left at home since I wasn't invited. Sometimes I feel really disconnected from Andrew and Jack. They have this “real” family in Pittsburgh, all these friends and roots, this whole backstory, and they regularly check in and I'm so removed from that. If I were part of it I wouldn't mind, but I'm not; it's like I live in a fantasy world. Their fantasy world. For me, it's reality and I can't escape it. For them, once or twice a year, they jet off to Pittsburgh and wear nice clothes and drink champagne and dance all night with people who love them, and I cease to exist. I just... don't know what her problem is. She's as tethered to her bigotry and hatefulness as I am to this stupid oxygen tank.

Me: Artist's depiction.

I'm still off work which is just killing me because I love work and I feel especially guilty since I JUST got informed about moving up to quails on the other campus, not to mention Ramiro's generosity and the raise that comes with getting ALAT certified.

In other news, Carlisle had 2 seizures this week, so we're upping his phenylbarbitol.  Not sure whether it was stress or just the good ol' competitive spirit; he's so used to being the sickest one in this house that it must have been a real blow to his pride when I came home with tubes in my nose.

"Oh, so it's a sick-off you want, is it?  ...I'm gonna go get my game ears on."