beheard: 2012

Monday, December 31, 2012

dear 2012, i hate you

many see the start of a new calendar year as an opportunity to start anew; to leave behind all bullshit from the previous 12 months and begin to tackle all of those things you sidestepped, or stepped right in along the way this past year.

i am not so sure i subscribe to this theory, as i tend to give little heed to things that resemble hocus pocus or mumbo jumbo. i will, however say goodbye to 2012 with great pleasure. pleasure in the futile belief that the numbers on the calendar moving forward will in turn push me forward and allow the torture of 2012 to fade like a scar incurred in childhood that is now just a distant memory along side eating paste and chasing boys around the schoolyard.

i am painfully aware that every day is a gift and that focusing on the positive aspects of one's life is essential in it's endurance, but there are times when being painfully aware is just plain old painful and for me, 2012 has been the embodiment of that emotion. with the amount of put-down-the-lady-bic-pep-talks i have bore witness to in the past several months i feel as though there is nothing more to say, or hear. i hope i take these words that have permeated both my ear drums and heart and am able to implement them into this mess i call a life.

ideally i would like to take the lessons of 2012 and with them create a more meaningful existence, with greater connection to my environment and fellow human beings. i would like to think that through the process of one's life imploding you see those to chose to remain close amongst the wreckage and invest even more deeply in those willing to see you at your lowest and most heinous. i want to believe that i am a more aware of who i am and what i want in life. it would be nice to feel like the old addage, what doesn't kills is makes us stronger, bears some weight in my given situation and that i am channeling my inner helen reddy as we speak, allowing my woman to roar - but sadly my ability to function within the realm of reality does not allow me to be so brave an optimistic and, instead just leaves me wanting to shout: dear 2012, i hate you!

lets just hope that 2013 at least pays for dinner first...

december 2012

Monday, December 3, 2012

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

thanksgiving in philadelphia

After partaking in my annual T-Give tradition of pizza and sweatpants I caught the Bolt Bus down to Philly to visit a dear friend and nourish my stress-diet ravaged body at the cheese steak capitol of the world. Lucky for my arteries I don't eat cheese or beef, but I do eat candy - and there was a store that sold in bulk, right across from her amazing apartment in Queens Village - so I was good to go.

After walking around QV, fraught with cute boutiques and questionable tattoo parlors I realized why people say Philly has charm. Sure there is history and patriotism oozing out of it's brick facade pores, but its these little neighborhoods with street art mosaics and painted sidewalks that really provide the setting for some generally nice strangers. You know you've lived in New York too long when common nicities become foreign and luxurious.

My first night there we popped over to the Royal Tavern to have a drink and although seating was a real issue the place was warmly lit and the staff was friendly and accommodating - so I give it a thumbs up. Being the gereatric swinging singles that we are we soon headed to bed - or in my case couch - where an electric blanket with my name on it was just waiting to whisper radioactive nothings into my ear all night.

Early to rise - sort of - and we were off on a walking tour of sorts. Both of us have at some point lived in both San Francisco and New York, so walking doesn't present an issue - however - frigid temperatures do and late November in Philly can be brutal. I have been talking about seeing the Liberty Bell for years so I anxiously awaited my first view in a long line wrapped around the building in which its housed chaulked full of midwesterners. And yes, I can tell. Once inside I have to say - I was underwhelmed. Perhaps I am not giving it it's due respect in terms of historic significance, but it was kind of small, broken and there were people droves waiting to get a shot of their mug next to a big chunk of metal to immediately post to FB. Needless to say, it was not my scene and we kept it moving, right past Ben Franklin's grave which evidently doubles as the wishing well at the Sunrise Mall and briefly pausing at Betsey Ross' house to make note os some strange cat statues in teh coutyard.

Being in what seems to be the art gallery district (Old City) we stopped into a unique galleries and upscale boutiques masked in flannel and pine scent until we could no longer go without ssustenance or heat and decided upon Cafe Ole for some wraps. Carbs - check! Tea - Check! Sitting on my fat ass for at least an hour - check! And then we were out the door again. Not far down the road Meghan talked me into buying an artisnal hat - which is fancy white talk for home made and expensive - but the head warmth was appreciated as we hit up the first church in the US before hopping on the inefficient subway and headng to what, at this time, is called Christmas Village in which stands the LOVE statue in the city of brotherly love. Let me tell you - that statue doesn't make me want to love any brothers. Once again small and unimpressive - and really - who wants that review?

An artic wind assisted our walk to the Rocky Museum as I call it by smacking us directly in the face on teh 20 minutes or so it took us to mount the infamous steps. After racing some 9 year olds in track pants and sadly losing we had our moment and hopped in a cab as fragrant as a Russian deli back to my electric blanket boyfriend.

A little repreive from the cold and another coat of mascara got me prepared to head to Northern Liberties where you can find all the people that escaped Williamsburg and Park Slope because rents were getting too expensive or they were recruited by one of the corporations based in PA. First stop was Johnny Brenda's where I decided it was time to be a girl-drink drunk and have two greyhounds - making my spirits lift out of the gutter in which they currently reside. Then off to Frankford Hall where the friendly Philean (yeah- I think I made that up) proved to be true and Meghan and I made fast friends with some locals who escorted us to Barcade where I played video games from the 80s for maybe the first time ever.

Having chosen to have one additional beverage and still be the most sober of this motley crew it would only make sense to head to the late night diner where you're corralled in the foyer with wasted ladies covered in spanx and aqua net. My toast was divine and one of the more lubricated stranger/new friends was just the right amount of arrogant and hammered so I was thoroughly entertained. Good drinks, good toast and good stranger/new friends. If that isn't the holy trinity of a good time in Philly - I don't know what is...