NYCweboy

When Autumn Leaves Start To Fall...

I'd love to say I got tons of work done, but my days off were pretty much what I thought they'd be - a lot of resting relaxing and recuperating away from the online grind (and I have the 900 backed up e-mails to show for it).

I also raked a lot of leaves.

Leaf raking is a chore, no doubt about it; but after a (dull) morning of political talk and catching up on my new obssession (USA's White Collar), I was ready for manual labor and a new project: clearing a plot to expand our garden and plant bulbs.

I'm no plant person... but gardens of colorful flowers... I can do. And I want to do. And that makes the leaves a necessary, not altogether unpleasant, step along the way.

Making the piles turned out to be surprisingly speedy and easy... it's the bagging, I realized that's the headache. When you get to bag 4, and still everything seems chaotic and undone... it's hard to see the endpoint. But I just kept bagging away, and reducing the piles one by one.

In the end, six bags total, it was worth it: the spot is identified, and the trip to get the bulbs, and the dirt, is next on my list. And without the ground cover, the beauty of our wild, untamed, fading garden as it moves from fall to winter is actually kind of striking. Fall's colors - the riches of gold and bronze and red - look especially nice against the expanse of uncovered lawn, itself dying away.

I don't love fall - or the fading light now that we've fallen back in time - because it symbolizes that moment when leaves fade, and fall and the cycle of death to rebirth moves to... well, death. I believe in love and life and light... and that's why "endless summer", or maybe "eternal spring,"  I think, may be the season I want most. But I like seasons, and the change of seasons... living in the Sun Belt, always warm, never a cold day or enough rain or the thrill of first snow... that just feels wrong. Always has.

Six bags, and a lovely back yard later, the autumn leaves continue to fall, the light fades, the days grow shorter and colder and the year moves to its conclusion. And as I resume my writer's journey, and plan a garden for next spring... it's nice to have the distractions of the rest of life, for a moment, to remind me - remind you and all of us - that we are more than our politics, our disputes, our national and world problems. And what we can do, when it seems like too much, is rest, recover... and rake. It's not the worst way to pass the time.

And I Still Haven't Gotten Over You Yet...

As you may have noticed for about a week now... things have been a little spotty on the blog front, not my preferred approach. It looks as though I need a moment to attend to real life, recover from wedding overload, and deal with other life issues large and small.

J in B will (I think) post a floralude today, and I have a song list for tomorrow, but aside from that, I'll be taking a blog break until next Tuesday. See you then.

The Good, The Bad... And The Awful.

It's Red's wedding weekend... and while I had hoped to find some time to blog, stress and various travel plans have intervened. Sorry for the two day break. Posting will be light, I think, through the weekend.

Last night was the rehearsal dinner... and I missed the rehearsal itself - but rehearsals are for actors, and our friend Joey got to stand in as the Justice of the Peace... so I think it all worked out just fine.

The good - as I titled this post - is seeing Red and her MAS so happy and to be a part of what is, really, such a joyous event, one that, more than many weddings I've seen, really does reflect the two people going through with it. And the supportive friends and family around them, too.

The bad, aside from not blogging is that the whole process was kind of fraught with more emotional landmines than I expected... but much of that is passed, and we are all focused on making today - tonight's the ceremony - the best it can be.

Still, the awful part is that all of this has happened at the same moment as my own personal complete financial meltdown. I have been scrambling to change banks, keep my finances and order, and deal with the headaches that come when direct deposits are in limbo, cash machines aren't an option and credit cards won't solve the problem. It's basically a nightmare, and I'm afraid my memories of these days will really be more about the financial disaster than the joyous event.

If I can leave you one piece of advice, I can only warn you never to use TD Bank. But even the satisfaction of sharing that bit of discouragement can't change my overall sense, right now, that the bad outweighs the good, the awful is winning over everything else, and I am little more than a flower crushed under the wheel of life. This will pass... but not soon enough.

You Deserve A Break Today

On a cold and rainy Sunday, I find myself needing - not in a bad way - to rest and recharge a bit; could be that fabulous bridal shower last night up in Boston (sadly, no strippers or vodka were harmed in the pursuit of my evening with the girls...at least for me), or a raft of financial challenges... but mostly, I jsut need a minute to myself.

Sorry I missed a singalong for Saturday. Normal operations will resume tomorrow.

Afternoon Morsels: Preppy Snack Time

...for the frat boys of all ages:

• Dow over 10,000 - oh yeah, that's a perfectly sensible approach to the current business climate.
• And here's Calvin Trillin to explain how we got this way. Blame the preppy people.
• Beer pong turns out to be a great way to pass Swine Flu! But of course!
• Somewhere in New York, and everywhere else, in every market, someone is playing Taylor Swift. Right now.
• But in the real Hollywood Minute, Nikki Finke has some fascinating insight into the potential deal between Comcast and GE to sell NBC. And it seems Jeff Zucker would (finally) be replaced by the guy who used to run FX and developed The Shield, among other things.
• And... while not really a preppy moment, it turns out Michael Jackson's new song "This Is It" is actually an old song he co-wrote for Safire. And I know who Safire is... but in case you don't.

The Fight For Our PJs

When I first saw the kerfuffle developing around John Harwood's report of a White House Advisor saying "they [bloggers] should get out of their PJ's and put on some clothes and get out in the world," I pretty much planned to avoid it. There was a certain "oh no, not again" quality to the whole thing and a "why bother" aspect to responding that seemed paramount.

But a sense of impending deadline, the choice of not posting anything at all yesterday, and a slightly off-kilter sense of humor combined yesterday to push me to toss off what I figured was a cute, idiosyncratic point of taking the comment apart not for the politics, but for the fashion - a defense of pajamas, and the more relaxed life they imply as compared to an uptight, bound up life in the corporate world of suits and "seriousness."

And two unexpected things happened - one is that my dear J in B got on me for being unserious, and the other is that I got angrier as the whole thing didn't go away.

So now - a little pissed and a little more serious - I'd like to make the point again, more vigorously: there's nothing wrong with "blogging in PJs" and we (the blogger nation) need to stop feeling down and defensive when it's brought up. In every sense - from our relaxed lifestyles to our passionate writings to our political impact - we are winning. And we should act like it. Defend the pajamas! Embrace the pajamas! Pajama people rule!

3... in the family, that's a magic number

Three years. Today.

When I started blogging, I was living in Boston, not sure what I wanted to write... but convinced that I had to try.

A lot has changed, yet again - I'm no longer in Boston, or writing every day, perhaps not writing exactly all I'd like or as often as I'd like... but I'm learning, fitfully, to live with what I can accept, and accept what I can live with.

What went through my mind, today, was all the support and encouragement I've had from friends and family, and how, when I started, I was surrounded by friends who either didn't blog, or who occasionally blogged, as I did, alone and perhaps kind of quietly. Now, my blogger friend has her own paid gig, my best friend posts his pictures online, and my fashion friend made her own leap into blogging just this past month. I am pleased, and proud, to know all of them... and to believe in what they do, too.

This has not been an easy year - not personally, or professionally, or blogging. I went from a heady feeling of sudden promise - all because so many politically minded lefties found themselves fighting for Hillary Clinton - to a precipitous drop in readers, attention... and my own interest. The up and down nature of blogging, more than anything, caught me off guard. I am not big on self promotion - it violates my WASPy, inbred sense of decorum and good taste - and I can't write controversy for controversy's sake ("Roman Polanski is a fucknut who deserves to be thrown in prison!"... eh, not so much). And because of my inner reserve, and my reliance on closely held anonymity... I know I have to accept a certain sort of limitation of audience.

What I've learned, this year and in all the time blogging so far, is a life lesson in writing what I love. Writing for me takes a certain alchemy: in the right mood, with the right topic, and the right amount of time... I can turn out amazing stuff. Take away any of those elements... and I get a bit stuck.

For all the heartaches and reversals... there's never a moment - never, not one... literally, no seriously, literally - when I think "not writing" is the solution. Not doing this blog, just giving up... that's not an option. And what I've realized is that... I have to put this blog up there on my list of priorities. It's not an afterthought. It's the thing that gives meaning to who I am and all of the rest of what I do.

Sixteen hundred and fifty posts, More than 110,000 page views. More than 1600 comments. I can live with that, feel good about it. I've made a promise to myself that in the next few weeks I will reinvigorate my blog, all the elements that go into it, and recommit myself to my personal mission of doing this with passion (and as J and j know... energy, enthusiasm and purpose). I also promise, finally, to do the thing I promise every year... I am sifting through those 1650 posts... and finding ones that I am proudest to call Best of NYC weboy. If it kills me... and it just might.

And confidential to Tom Watson... I love you, man. Let's figure out how to reinvigorate NewCritics. :)

xoxo webo

Roman Ampitheater

One of the better lessons from regular blogging is... you don't have to have an opinion on everything. Like say, a feminist who admits her love of wedding blogs... I could have an opinion, but why bother?

Or, consider Roman Polanski. Please. Don't ask me what I think... because I am studiously avoiding taking a position. At least for now. When people I admire and respect can lay out passionate points on both sides... I listen, and for the moment... I'm leaving it at that.

This is all kind of new to me... I like to think of it as some sort of growth, on my part. "Go in, guns blazing" used to be my default approach. Age, and a little experience, has made me realize it's okay to listen, and wait, and take it all in.

Jeralyn lays out the case for Free Roman. Ann Appelbaum offers points over at WaPo...

And Kate Harding takes them apart. As does Melissa over at Shakes. And feminists all over marvel at the defenders...

And for now... that's all I got.

The Day I Want To Cut Off All My Hair

So yesterday was rough.

When nothing - from my finances ("destitute" applies) to basic chores (our lawn is frightening, like the place is abandoned) - seems to go right or get done... I get myself further and further down til everything seems futile.

And then, naturally, I decide I hate my hair and I should cut it all off... also, I am destitute. And cutting off my hair is cheaper than keeping it. Plus feeling fat and bald and awful will be easier when I am fat and bald.

I've been so very up and down lately... and I don't really know why. It's not like things change enomously one day to the next... but one day the world looks  all right and I can make it, after all.... and the next day, it's all awful and hellish and I hate everyone and everything.

Last night, fortunately, I ran into an old friend, who has far more to bitch about than I probably ever will... and he reminded me that neither his problems, nor mine, or the end of the world. And when he suggested 27 Dresses, The Women and Auntie Mame as a way to cope with my bridesmaid dilemmas... well, I knew why this guy has always managed to brighten my world (and that's not even mentioning the awesome chance I got, thanks to him, to see Bette Midler at Radio City. In the 8th row).

And you know what he said when he saw me - hairdresser that he is?

"Wow, your hair is amazing. It's really grown out!"

Okay... I guess I'll keep it. :)

Inching Back

Although I've made some progress since yesterday - a good night's sleep, a chance to get a run in this morning - I am still struggling against personal and work related challenges (which I've kind of mentioned obliquely, but not directly). I'd love to write more about it... or about anything... but that's just not happening for the moment. I'm hoping for tonight, or more likely tomorrow, when I can catch my breath a bit better, and find a good focus.

And yeah... I'm a little sad and down, if you hadn't noticed.