As I hit the age where people stop automatically using “untimely demise” to describe one’s death, I’m still working on getting a Venn diagram where “something at which I excel” overlaps with “something about which I feel passionate” and creates a ménage à trois with “something financially feasible.”

Because while I’ve had jobs I liked well enough and I’ve had jobs that made moonshine seem like an appealing breakfast treat, I’ve never actually been in love with a profession.

I’M NOT A FLITTERBEGIBBIT, I’M JUST DRAWN THAT WAY

So I exhale green-tinged sighs when I meet people who have always known PRECISELY what they wanted to do for a living. Though potentially a frying pan/fire situation, I immediately want to exchange souls with them. And–lest I be accused of age discrimination–I’m also ready to swap with anyone who discovered his or her calling later in life.

Clearly I’d be better off if I were the type of person who could cheat on a ho-hum job with exciting, fulfilling hobbies. Then I wouldn’t need to be in love with what I do for hours and hours of my day, dammit. But as Mr Vix likes to remind me when I’m in the throes of existential despair:

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

While I look for my niche, I’ll continue to be intrigued by where people work, how they work, and why they work. And to be selectively fascinated by what their labors produce. Because sometimes we make our own destiny, and sometimes our destiny just manifests.

…it’s a big world out there, and each corner seems full of ways to create, repair, maintain, and evolve…

(clockwise from left: Torcello’s wild abandon holds traces of its 20,000 former inhabitants; an upper terrace at Fortuny’s palazzo/studio-turned-museum (see an official shot of Fortuny’s library); contemplation during cobblestone repair; a Missoni colorway holds echoes of Italy; workers pass a former monastery; family and fishing boats rest while laundry dries)

I woke up one day last winter and realized that, apart from a short family-based trip, I hadn’t left the U.S. in 20 years. I’m still not sure how I let that happen; granted, I have a tendency to sleepwalk through my life when I’m not making fairly substantial changes but REALLY.

While financially it was not a great time for me to travel farther than the corner market, I was determined to celebrate my 40th by going somewhere I’d always wanted to see, someplace crumbling and splendid, bustling and languid, illusory and workaday.

Someplace as contradictory as I was feeling.

So I started making plans, and once Mr Vix got on board, we even decided to squeeze in a little second-city stop-off on the way home. Though of course I would have loved to roam even longer.

…my trip made me as happy as a raisin in a rum cake, and today’s a day I need to revisit the smaller moments that made me smile…

(top to bottom: Mr Vix wandering in Venice; Amsterdam carnival vendor; a midnight vap rider brightens the Venetian scene; Amsterdam window display; strutting it Amsterdam style; old meets new on an Amsterdam canal bank; a central city carnival flashes against Amsterdam’s grey sky; Murano factory sign; orange bag huddle on the Riva degli Schiavoni; memento from G. Nason’s studio)

The King & Queen of the Hollywood A-List set, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie worked their celebrity magic in LA last night on the Grauman’s Chinese Theater’s red carpet, putting all of those tabloid break up rumors to shame.

Here on Horiwood.Com, here’s how you stacked your entertainment news today:

1. CHELSEA HANDLER AND KENDRA = E! IS THE HOME OF THE TOP RATING HOLLYWOOD CABLE BLONDE

2. TWILIGHT ECLIPSE’S SHOCKING CASTING NEWS: THE JULIA JONES & Q’ORIANKER KILCHER CASTING DEBACLE

3. VANESSA HUDGENS HAS GOT LEGS! HER LADY GAGA & MILEY CYRUS LOOK

4. POOR JILLIAN HARRIS: BETRAYAL ALWAYS SUCKS

5. SALVADOR DALI: THE PERSPECTIVE OF PROPORTION: SURREALIST ART

6. DAVID BECKHAM’S NEW DO

7. TOP BOLLYWOOD STARS IN THE WORLD

8. FARRAH FAWCETT COVERS PEOPLE MAGAZINE

9. BRILLIANT DIALOGUE: THE HANG OVER QUOTES

10. AT 51, SHARON STONE TRUMPS MADONNA ON THE COVER OF FRANC’S PARIS MATCH MAGAZINE

horiwood’slatest tweet on twitter is: “the power of search engine optimization is on my brain today here in Hollywood. Its Organic, of course.”less than 5 seconds ago from web

Hollywood producer, Kevin Williamson is having a big year. He’s the brains behind Scream and The Vampire Diaries debut next month on the CW. Scary guys who write and produce are the architects of Hollywood.

From the city of Hollywood and your favorite Kiwi blogger in LA (I’m the only one, LOL!), here’s the top 10 entertainment news topics of interest that you chose today worldwide. Enjoy! Happy Saturday:

1. HAYDEN PANETTEIRE PIC

2. NIKKI REED AND TAYLOR LAUTNER PIC

3. DIVA SIDEKICK AMBER ROSE

4. THE GLOBE CLAIMS PRESIDENT OBAMA’S BIRTH CERTIFICATE IS A FAKE

5. NAKED PICS OF VANESSA HUDGENS ARE EVERYWHERE

6. WHAT DOES A NEW YORK TIMES #1 BEST SELLING AUTHOR LOOK LIKE?

7. POOR JILLIAN HARRIS: BETRAYAL ALWAYS SUCKS

8. HEIDI MONTAG IS IN PLAYBOY: YAWN… THE DEVIL MADE HER DO IT

9. FARRAH FAWCETT COVERS PEOPLE MAGAZINE

10. AMERICA’S FIRST LADY OF FASHION DESIGN, MISS ELLIETTE, HAS THE BEST HEIRLOOM TOMATOES IN THE WORLD

TWILIGHT’S BONUS POST: 10 TWILIGHT SAGA ECLIPSE NEWS POSTS ON HORIWOOD.COM 8.8.09

Horiwood is a Maori New Zealander living in Hollywood. We call Maoris horis back in New Zealand. To travel to New Zealand,  one of the prettiest adventure tourism destinations on the planet on your next vacation, go here.

New Zealand is so pretty. Get there at least once in your lifetime.

Darren & Kobey, jetted in from Vegas to hori out with me in LA today. I am blessed. They enjoyed their time at Universal City this afternoon. I was left with the feeling, that there is nothing that visionary people can’t achieve in this world. Let’s do it.

Here’s how you rated your top 10 entertainment news posts on Horiwood.Com today:

1. AT 51, SHARON STONE TRUMPS MADONNA ON THE COVER OF FRANCE’S PARIS  MATCH MAGAZINE

2. SUSAN BOYLE HAS RECORDED HER FIRST TRACK

3. POOR JILLIAN HARRIS: BETRAYAL ALWAYS SUCKS

4. THE GLOBE CLAIMS PRESIDENT OBAMA’S BIRTH CERTIFICATE IS A FAKE

5. TWILIGHT ECLIPSE’S SHOCKING CASTING NEWS

6. NAKED PICS OF VANESSA HUDGENS ARE EVERYWHERE

7. FARRAH FAWCETT COVERS PEOPLE MAGAZINE

8. SONG WRITING 101 WITH LADY GAGA

9. WILL SOMEONE GIVE SHERRI SHEPHERD A PIECE OF CHEESECAKE ASAP

10. TWILIGHT SAGA GIRLS DO GLAMOUR MAGAZINE

horiwood’slatest tweet on twitter is: “today we dreamed of new horizons, in new worlds and new frontiers. we sailed out in waka. we grasped destiny. we tamed the hawaiian sun36 minutes ago from web

Although today’s news glory should belong to Sonia Sotomayor, the first confirmed Hispanic, Supreme Court Justice of America; it is the topless leaked pictures of a tween actress with a new film to promote; a betrayed bachelorette and the unstoppable rising young stars of Twilight Saga’s Eclipse who round out the top 10 most sought after entertainment news topics on Horiwood.Com today.

If there is one thing that maintaining a blog from Hollywood has taught me, blog numbers don’t lie. They show another side to democracy as the people and the masses vote each day with their mouse clicks and news choices.

From Hollywood tonight, enjoy your news choices you all made worldwide. Thank you all for being a part  of Horiwood.Com for 7 months now. Let’s keep this show going always with a spirit of fun and a sense of play!

Congratulations Sonia Sotomayor!!! How cool and inspiring is she?! Well done. Wow!!!

1. NAKED PICS OF VANESSA HUDGENS ARE EVERYWHERE

2. POOR JILLIAN HARRIS: BETRAYAL ALWAYS SUCKS

3. NIKKI REED & TAYLOR LAUTNER PIC

4. TWILIGHT ECLIPSE’S SHOCKING CASTING NEWS: Q’ORIANKER KILCHER & JULIA JONES BATTLE IT OUT FOR TWILIGHT SAGA’S LEAH CLEARWATER CASTING IN ECLIPSE

5. DON’T GO BREAKING MY HEART: ROBERT PATTINSON & KRISTEN STEWART REUNITE TO FILM ECLIPSE

6. SUSAN BOYLE HAS RECORDED HER FIRST TRACK

7. JESSICA SIMPSON IS NOT STILL IN LOVE WITH NICK  LACHEY

8. FARRAH FAWCETT COVERS PEOPLE MAGAZINE

9. EAT. PRAY. LOVE SAY JAMES FRANCO & JULIA ROBERTS

10. WHAT A GUY! RICHARD CHANDLER IS A BILLIONAIRE PHILANTHROPIST

BONUS POSTS: 11. SONIA SOTOMAYOR MAKES HISTORY AS THE FIRST HISPANIC SUPREME COURT JUSTICE OF AMERICA

12. HE’S AN OVERCOMER: RICH RETURNS TO WALKING AND SURFING – ONE MAN’S REHABILITATION FROM CHRONIC FATIGUE SYNDROME

13. SHEPARD FAIREY’S “HALO” OBAMA ART FOR ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE FURTHER’S OBAMA’S HOPE THEME OF POLITICS

 horiwood’slatest tweet on twitter is: “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things yet unseen.” less than 5 seconds ago from web

Like Sonia Sotomayor’s inspiring achievements show us in #11 and Rich’s story shows us in #12 tonight; let hope and persistence arise in us all. What doesn’t kill  us makes us stronger and it will get better!

Hope and faith are powerful. They are the fuel to sustain us through tough times.

Thanks Sonia and Rich for fueling all of our dreams today.

And now, for a reminder that middle-age need not mean sitting around whinging, I bring you Dara Torres. The Olympian who mounted an improbable comeback at age 41 is still competing one year later despite pesky knee problems and a rambunctious toddler at home.

Over the weekend, she competed in the world swimming finals for the 50 meter free, alas finishing eighth. Tonight she’s skedded to appear on “The Daily Show.”

She took time out of the pool long enough last year to pen “Age Is Just a Number” with coauthor Elizabeth Weil. In this frank account, published in April, Torres talks about her struggles with bulimia, failed marriages and other missteps along the way to her fifth Olympic Games in Beijing. It hasn’t always been easy but Torres isn’t the type to scare off easily; she has always been blessed with a strong competitive drive and financial resources to pull her through various setbacks.

Best of all: She never intended her last comeback, but rather fell into it after resuming swimming during pregnancy.

“I didn’t consult any scientists to see if my comeback plans were crazy,” she writes. “I suppose I didn’t want to hear if they were. But later I learned that lifestyle, not genetics, is the primary reason older athletes slow down, and that made a lot of sense to me.”

Torres hasn’t ruled out the 2012 Games, but for now she’s ready for a much needed break. The rest of us would be well-served to heed her message: Don’t let age make you give up on your dream.

Earlier: Oh snap out of it: Why midlife crises can be so boring, Lessons from my mother

Ed Swiderski is cheating on Bachelorette Jillian Harris reports the new Us Weekly. 

Can somebody say the words “Betrayal Sucks.” Let’s say those words. They happen when you date someone who is so conceited in their sense of self importance.

They don’t even know themselves. It’s sad.

Often betrayal occurs when someone still wants to be a bachelor, when the hot looks stage has long since past, and they’re still playing like they are a hot bachelor. George Clooney is borderline cusp of this crime against women.

Like, denial is a bad, bad thing! But they don’t know they are in it, because players are still going to play. It’s a bad habit that makes them feel good, but does not align with reality. Mirrors exist to tell the truth. They should look at themselves in one more with honest eyes.

Ask Jillian Harris. She ran into this big time when she met, Ed Swiderski. 

Sorry Jillian, give Ed another 10 years, to catch up with his good ole’ deluded self…. or not.

This is weird. Underwhelmed by the last two first-person accounts of midlife crises I read, I headed to the library to investigate further. Surely, the symptoms — and fallout — couldn’t be that mundane for all women.

I didn’t expect to be reminded of my mother. But that’s what I get for dipping into a generational study by a woman a few years older than her.

Gail Sheehy’s “New Passages” takes up where her original blockbuster “Passages” left off. Published 14 years ago, it’s unavoidably dated, skewing heavily toward the experiences of the World War II and Boomer generations.

So far, so familiar, right? Not necessarily. The book introduced me to the concept of “jailbreak marriages,” a union born out of a young woman’s desire to break out of parental control. (Hmm, Mom married at 18.) But that wasn’t the only reason the so-called Silent Generation married young – the pill wasn’t around and nice girls prided themselves on saving themselves for their wedding night.

My mother kept her elopement a secret at school – Smithies weren’t allowed to marry until their junior year – dropping out anyway five months later. The fact she dropped out before finals really got me as a teen.

What really startled me last night, however, was realizing that my mother’s long-forgotten midlife reckoning occurred right around the age I am now. I flashed on the paperback copy of “Passages” on my parents’ nightstand all those years ago.

Right on schedule.

Decided not to continue with this and to pray for lying  psychos instead

Was thinking that my main stalking victim probably printed three copies of  my email, one laminated to keep in his briefcase and two framed for office and home.   I guess he must be having some type of midlife crises and feeling depressed about his big nose, weight and baldness  to be so proud of it.  Look mom I’ve got a stalker!   I probably made his year.

Who knows about the lying friend.  If he ever gets a conscience, he can email me @  suebluesue@yahoo.com.  If he said he was sorry, I’d never tell anyone and I certainly wouldn’t think it meant he was stalking me.

update: 8/31/09 – After a month of praying and looking for any sign of contrition from the slanderers, and not seeing any, and receiving other signs that it’s not vindictive to stand up for yourself, I decided to do another blog that details the lies told about me in @davidhhendricks blog and spread on twitter.

The Poor Poet (1839), by Carl Spitzweg.

The White House might disagree that there’s a need for a second stimulus, but at least the Oracle of Omaha agrees with me (and his statement came out a day after my blog entry).

Another thing that occurred to me while considering how a second stimulus would work is something that wouldn’t necessarily be part of it, but could be an interesting federal program after we’re flush again.

The idea I have in mind is the Dream Grant, which would be available to all those folks toiling away in offices across the country who find themselves waiting on line at some lunch-rush spot, and during that time their minds wander to the dream they’ve always had of writing that novel, taking that yearlong journey across the rivers of the U.S., or indulging their love of painting, among other things.

These grants would last only a year, but that might be enough time to figure out whether you had it in you to write the novel in the first place. You would have the whole year to do nothing but concentrate on your artistic or humanitarian endeavor, or something similar, and see what you can make of it.

I think the vast majority of people would find out they were not painters and authors or riverine explorers for very good reasons, and would come back after a year chastened and eager to resume a life of office drudgery, which would then seem not so dull after all, and small psychic price to pay for  a steady check and a room to call one’s own.

But they also might come back wiser and more satisfied. It seems to me that the ingredients of quiet desperation are not so much the limited horizons their jobs or family situations consign them to as they are the dreams of the other lives they could be living. What drives us crazy are the what-if moments of the past:

What if I’d gone to that university instead? What if I’d listened to my friends and spent a year in France trying to see whether I could paint? What if I’d actually finished that novel instead of abandoning it at page 75?

The Dream Grants might be only money for self-indulgence, and overwhelmingly pursued by folks in the throes of midlife crises. But I think they would recognize that a lot of us are dissatisfied with our lots in life, and maybe a chance to pursue a long-held dream without having to worry about finances (or jobs, or health care; employers would have to grant the time and keep the job open) would make us better people in the long run.

It’s one thing to silently curse your co-workers or the demands of your family while holding the thought of your unfinished poetic cycle in your head, but it’s another to stifle those curses before they get going because you know perfectly well that you’ve had the chance to try your avocation and you know it’s going nowhere.

At least, not until you get a supplemental grant.

Jon Gosselin and Hailey Glassman were at the airport in Nice, France, Wednesday. 

Gosselin is continuing his role as Ed Hardy’s ‘mid crises’ pin up boy wearing Ed Hardy tees like they are his new identity after Kate.

Oh no, now we are going to see every man ditching their kids and wives, in these tees all over the US! Beware of dudes in these tees ladies. Just kidding, but not really!

Bauer Griffin

Lead-ups to this post: Preamble…Pt 1…Pt 2

Once I decided to thumb my nose at the clothing market’s easy-but-WRONG-pickings and go off the grid for a dress, the waiting began.

In the proverbial Wildean triumph of hope over experience, I always remember that I am rabidly impatient and a fiend for instant gratification AFTER I commit to a project or path. Now I know one can ask a bear to pass up one’s flesh. And I know one can ask a project to stay on track. But sister, I also know that ain’t neither gonna happen, and my ridiculous optimism annoys me.

Once the whole nature/course hookup reaches a certain stage, it generally results in me pawing through the cupboard looking for teabags with Eastern quotations about detachment, which inevitably leads me to remember the old friend who said, in genuine non-mocking bewilderment:

You’re trying to be ‘Zen about it?’ But you’re the least Zen person I know!”

Hrrrrrumph.

To go from clutched fabric sample to actual garment, I had to experience the cutest little obstacle course of timeline scheduling holdups and misbehaving fabric challenges plus a rather hellacious stretch lining experiment that left me looking like a stuffed sausage covered in teats.

But in the words of Poison:
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn

Happily, though, the Dress of a Thousand Nipples currently hangs in my closet. And what thread has joined let no body parts tear asunder.

No fancy camera set up, sorry!

The fabric tends to ripple with movement, then slide before back into place...I like!

My one-eyed fish look PLUS arty stripes!

How fun are these vintage crystal earrings...singular here, yes

As for the poor designer, who hadn’t anticipated QUITE as much trouble making up the pattern in stretch silk vs the jersey they were selling? Well, she stayed remarkably calm through a rather tedious process and emerged with a happy client.

I bet she reads a lot of teabag wrappers.

Earlier, I recalled how I felt compelled to invest time, energy, and money into a customized dress instead of putting those resources into something more noble, such as solving the world’s energy crisis or paying down yet MORE of my student loan debt.

Back in the day, I had a very broad definition of how I thought clothing should fit me; I’d say it ranged from close to my actual size to infinity. With that as a framework, my pre-intervention self rarely considered how certain clothing shapes flattered or made hash of particular body types.

Unfortunately, my open-mindedness was documented in visual forms, some of which remain tacked to my mother’s hallway bulletin board. At least no one’s put my permed, Byrne-shouldered past on Facebook. Yet.

But as I’ve copped to being a fairly mainstream clothing size, just how much Wednesday’s-child-full-of-woe can I possibly have about clothing fit? Rather a lot, as it turns out, but hey: angsty late bloomers need love too!

Surely the tender-hearted will cut me some slack when they hear that among other proportion issues, my natural waist means I have this going on:

Martin Short as Ed Grimley

As a result, skirts and dresses with actual waists–and even worse, belts–are off-limits to me 99% of the time. And that makes me sad, ok?

Sure, I may be blithely tripping down the street in my untucked knit tops, twinkling at all the be-waisted ensembles I spy. But inside it’s all Smokey singing The Tracks of My Tears, or maybe The Tears of a (Self-Centered) Clown. God bless Mr Robinson, I’m spoiled for choice.

So imagine my happiness when I found a pretty jersey dress that ALMOST worked, and was told by the designer that she could make it work-work by altering the pattern’s waist, hips, and arms. It was like I’d died and gone back to the days of dressmakers!

When she added that I could always choose another fabric for it I went into the Trace of Rationalization.

FACT: My 10-year-old LBD has more than worn out its welcome and has started fraying.

FACT: Jersey is nicely sedate, but a sportswear-inspired dress shape in a stretch silk print could work even in low-key Latteville.

FACT: A midlife crisis needs some shallow!

FACT: O FLATTERING PRINT DRESS YOU WILL BE MINE

Next: Part 2 of Sidestepping toward style, aka “Uh-oh”

]]> http://buildingacolorfullife.wordpress.com/2009/07/12/sidestepping-toward-style-preamble/ Sun, 12 Jul 2009 15:38:24 +0000 heyvix http://buildingacolorfullife.wordpress.com/2009/07/12/sidestepping-toward-style-preamble/

When one is a North American woman of average height who’s on the thinner side, bitching about clothing options is done at one’s own risk.

So let me throw down my shovel, hop in my casket, and shout: SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS WEAR PLUS-SIZED AND WHEN IT COMES TO SHOPPING OPTIONS I KNOW THEY HAVE IT WORSE, OK?

My brain may be underused and cluttered with completely tawdry tidbits, but I get it. And I understand that some might consider it rude for me to complain about looking crappy in certain types of clothes when I can still find those clothes without much hassle.

But I’m going to complain anyway!

Because like most who have dragged themselves away from one way of life, I’m now committed to traveling a new path. I’ll say it loud and not-so-proud: my former Bea Arthur ways still hold a lot of appeal, requiring me be ever-vigilant about relapse. So I get a little twitchy when I can’t lay my paws on a flattering version of some totally average clothing item.

Like a day dress. Sometime during the ‘08 presidential campaign, I became fixated on:

• the sad dearth of dresses in my closet (1 10-year black dress; 1 sundress; 1 fancypants, near-floorlength dress)
• a desire to leap BOLDLY away from my Garanimals-influenced wardrobe with a BOLDLY patterned (yet unobtrusive) dress

But despite seeing throngs of local women looking very chic/cute/fresh in THEIR dresses, I kept striking out. Fall: no. Winter: no. Spring. Dammit, no. For some bizarre reason, I could not seem to find a dress that met my yeah-really-not-THAT-high standards.

And after a few years of tentative forays into the market, caftans and tunics were now everywhere. D-A-N-G-E-R!

Sing not your siren song: Bea (L) as Dorothy

Which is how I ended up commissioning a dress from a local clothing designer and vexing us both in the process.

Next: Part 1 of Sidestepping toward style, aka feel my pain

If Boil the Ocean had an art budget (and an artist) the photo above would be some combo of this and this with the letters “SOTY” underneath, but, yeah. Budgetless art courtesy of Erik; thanks also to YWS Eeen for his offer.

Much like the U.S. o’ A, Thrasher done fucked around and put a fresh-faced, left-leaning young buck in the number one spot, largely untested and with a rather unlikely three-name combo. Perhaps a sign of change, elevating young breakout types with similarly thin resumes – five years ago Barack Obama’s a state senator, and Silas Baxter-Neal was Powell flow trash. Perhaps an indication of no better candidates. But as far as reaching the top of the heap early on in their careers, SBN and BHO are in there with JFK, TR, BA and, er, Cardiel.

Like the big O, Baxter-Neal is well-suited to his term for the reason that he seems to capture the current zeitgeist: open to new ideas (noseslide to switch nosegrind transfer), respect for classic form (Thrasher Th13rteen cover) and shaking up established schools of though (frontside flip wallride revert). Also both have smoked weed.

But unlike the Pres-elect SBN comes to SOTY with a noticeable absence of flash, lacking the superhuman skill set of a Chris Cole, Daewon Song or Marc Johnson, and the hellbent-for-leather risk appetite of a Danny Way or Geoff Rowley. He’s definitely no slouch on the board but to me it seems Baxter-Neal succeeded via elbow grease, a workhorse attitude and probably a lack of serious injury. It’s hard to imagine a harder-toiling skateboarder in the last couple years, with the obvious exception of Wade Speyer.

It’s possible that Obama, too, has picked up on his inner Baxter-Nealness, with the politisphere ablaze with news that he plans to name Tim Geithner, NY Fed honcho and alleged skateboarder, to head the Treasury department. The early reports proved premature however, as the Federales quickly took it upon themselves to clear Geithner’s name of any thrashing of the four-wheeled variety:

A skateboarding Treasury secretary would indeed be something special. However, a Fed spokesman said yesterday that, in fact, Mr. Geithner doesn’t actively participate in skateboarding.
…
There are some theories as to why surfers and snowboarders have outdone skaters in seeking political office. Surfing and snowboarding tend to cost more, and this may act as a social filter.

So it seems skaters will have to wait a bit longer for the first skateboarding Treasury secretary. Change can only happen so fast.

Sometimes I think the only time I actually care about controlling my weight is when I can’t control anything else.

I can’t say I’ve ever been huge (barring pregnancy, when I outweighed my husband) or anorexic (sadly I say “if only”). These days I get so busy I do actually forget to eat from time to time and have no problems maintaining my weight. I sometimes feel out of shape, but I attribute that mostly to fatigue. After years of going up and down the same ten or so pounds I have finally reached a point where I figure why bother, as I look pretty much the same whether I’m bigger or smaller…same shape, not going from Georgy Girl to Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. That would take too much effort in either direction.

Still, it’s the beginning of a new month and I’m having evil thoughts of losing weight. Not so much, just about 10-15 pounds.

No one seems to like this suggestion when I make it. I don’t know whether it is my friends or society, but I think the idea of a diet either makes people jealous of the idea you’ll look better than they do if you succeed, a funsucker while you’re dieting, or makes them feel guilty for their own lack of discipline. But in truth I am getting way too close to 40 and I have a sneaking suspicion my heart my not be so forgiving as I age. That and my life is kind of becoming runny scrambled eggs, in a way.

Maybe it is a midlife thing. Who knows? Maybe it’s the crashing economy, increased marital bickering, my son getting older and less dependent. Maybe I’m bored and need a new project. I know I can lose the weight, and there’s really no reason not to diet. Simple formula…eat less, exercise more. I thought about doing the detox thing, which wasn’t hard when I did a trial run, but in my heart I think you need to have some toxins or your body is unprepeared.

That and I’d have to eschew coffee, which would really suck big time. I could give up booze in a heartbeat but I honestly think I’d keel over without at least a cup of coffee a day.

Sigh. So far today I’ve had a cup of coffee, some water and a Bisquit (not misspelled…biscuit with Bisquick). Later I’ll take a dance class.

Maybe I’ll even step on the scale. Hopefully I won’t lose interest before the end of the month.

When I was little, only men on TV had midlife crises and these were generally easily taken care of by a new sportscar (to be returned at the end of the program) or a mistress (who went flitting away as the man gradually came to his senses and went back to his grateful wife). Men with midlife crises dye their hair, dress too young for their age, and try and do things beyond their age and personality to be “hip”.

Alas, the people I know having said crises are all female. Myself included.

Let’s see…I have been dyeing my hair since I was 19, have a new Outback that financially I could have done without and was not my choice to buy, and I have enough trouble trying to figure out what the hell makes my husband happy without taking on a mistress…um, mister…(?) I have a great kid, rent a big home, make some money here or there, have great friends, vacation plans. I even sing with a rock and roll band. So, you might say, what IS the problem?

I suppose I could blame my dad. I have these nagging thoughts lately…

I have no health insurance. I went to an expensive college, and yet have never held an actual JOB job. I have no retirement fund, no will, own no home. This never used to bother me, but lately weird things bother me. Why haven’t I lived up to my potential? Why are there no pictures of me now when I’m older when I had so many of me taken when I was younger (although I shudder when I look in the mirror and see myself these days…when my mom was my age I was in high school!). Then things like, I am WAY out of shape, I’m running out of time to do things like get famous or write the great American novel, let alone get the carpet in the living room clean. And all the life that has passed before me seems oddly staggering…if there is a heaven, are all my dead pets waiting for me up there, thinking about me when they but rarely pass through my thoughts? And the dead people increase slowly but ever steadily in number…and this is suddenly cause for fresh depression: I always wanted to be on a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, but it seems pointless now because my dad won’t be around to see it. Of course, sensible me knows it’s generally cold on the day of the parade and I wonder about bathroom breaks, but…many of my friends have genuine, pressing problems…paying two mortgages, having no money, having no partner and running out of time to have children, dying parents. Wanting my life to have more genuine meaning seems silly and selfish.

I went to a funeral in the not too distant past. They said: “He enjoyed accounting.” Can you imagine? I sure hope they have more to say about me at that point than that I “enjoyed accounting.” I see my grandmother in the nursing home with dementia and can’t imagine how empty her life must feel, day to day, what her regrets were. I don’t WANT to regret things when I die, but there keep being all those missed opportunities. I feel like Sylvia Plath, afraid to pick one of the plums off the tree for fear that all the plums that she missed will be better. 

Sigh. Gotta start working on those 80’s songs for band practice.

Midlife Crises ist Männersache und die Zeit zwischen nachlassender Spermienproduktion und anwachsendem Bauchumfang, wenn mütterliche Frauen anzüglich lächeln und Mädchen im besten Studienalter einem die Tür aufhalten. Manche von denen ließen sich auch auf dem Beifahrersitz des unlängst erworbenen Porsches vernaschen, wenn es die Bandscheiben noch erlaubten. Opelfahrer haben diese Erfahrung noch nicht gemacht und suchen ihr Heil in werbebeklebten Rennrädern, die sie in gewohnter Manier samstagvormittags und Feinripp bewaffnet auf dem Rasenstück vor der 70 Parteienwohnanlage putzen. So werden Autos zur Meßlatte der eigenen Lebenswirklichkeit und prägen das Gefühl, das Leben zu ficken oder davon gefickt zu werden. Fragen Sie mal Opelfahrer. Was ich fahre bin ich und Smartfahrer haben den Längsten, denn das für Frauen konzipierte Vehikel hat seine Zielgruppe verfehlt und parkt regelmäßig in Garagen gutverdienender Singelmäner. Das sind die, die mit 50 über Porschefahrer lächeln und einen Volvo haben. „PS“ als Postkoitale Sensation ist die Einheit, die dem Mann ab 50 die Stufe auf der Werteskala der Gesellschaft aufzeigt und neben Haus, Boot und Höhe der Unterhaltszahlungen den Selbstwert beziffert. „Sonderausstattung“ ist der wirkliche Orgasmus im Alter schwindender Haarpracht und lässt sich die Weibchen dem Rudelführer hingeben. Jugendliche Energie und kraftstrotzende Körper bleiben im Windschatten glänzender Metalllackkarossen zurück und treten angesichts von Zylindermenge, Benzinverbrauch und Kaufpreishöhe in den Hintergrund. Versorgungsdenken macht Frauen empfänglich für schöne Formen und nachsichtig mit dem vom Marathon träumenden Geldbeutel auf der Fernsehcouch. Der Zweitwagen, klein, flach, schnell und auf Kredit gekauft, ist Belohnung für Zweitfrau und Zweitjob, der all das bezahlen soll. Der Zweitmann der Frau kommt mit dem Rad oder Roller, den Rucksack lässig über der Schulter und kein Sixpack in der Hand…Aber warte Bürschchen bis du 45 bist und die guten Frauen auf dem Beifahrersitz des jüngeren Kollegen landen. Dann empfiehlt sich der Gang zum Kfz-Händler deines Vertrauens.

50plus Blog

artwork

I am still enjoying tranquillity of the surrounding and the aloneness – I haven’t felt so much rested and relaxed for ages. Tomorrow I will go back home – if the wind is not too strong and so ferries will operate.

Yesterday an old and very dear friend Nado came to visit me at the camp. He leaves about 60 km away, in an old coastal town Zadar and is a professional musician, guitarist. On top of that he also manufactures most exquisite hand-made hard-wood electric guitars and electric basses one can imagine. Thought electric instruments, his guitars preserve the rich sound of the acoustic instruments – it is probably the wood he uses, but I believe it is definitely also the love he infuses into his pieces of art. Check it out.

Spending a couple of hours with him in an honest and easy conversation, about life, relationships and midlife crises, of course, filled me not only with a lot of warmth in my hearth, but also with a lot of thoughts about the friendship.

Nado and I have met 20 years ago in the military service – we were both sent to the same army unit in Montenegro. It was not the easiest time of our lives; however we became friends instantly and supported each other until the end of our terms. We even played together in the army rock and folk band.

We keep meeting each other every few years here and there, remaining open and supportive. I believe these are two crucial factors that transform a relationship between two individuals to what can be called a true friendship. Openness and mutual support.

I have once heard or read someplace that the proof of friendship is not that you are on-line non-stop with certain person, but that you remain open to that person even for decades if you do not see each other – and when you sit down again after all that time, the openness is there instantly, you just continue from the point where you have had paused, right on, no need for small talk, no need to introduce and test each other.

And the issue of the mutual support; I guess this is the feeling when I know I can ask for support whenever I need it and the other person will immediately respond, no question asked and without a moment of hesitation. To me it does not mean that I will be using this potential of friendship all the time – in certain friendship I actually never used it so far, I think – but just the feeling that this quality of the contact is present, makes the difference.

Just now, writing this I realized that I actually have a lot of friends like this around the world. Just knowing this feels me up with easiness, warmth

Ordinarily one would expect a distinguished gentleman of Kashyap Chudasama’s calibre to exhibit a certain amount of wear and tear that is bound to ensue from rubbing shoulders with politicos, industrialists, and other elites of Pune.  Chinu a.k.a. Mama seems to have found the elixir of youth perhaps while experimenting with petroleum mixtures.  My memories of Chinu date back to 5th and 6th standard, when I shared a bench with him in the classroom and helped him work through a large tin of Amul cheese on many occasions.  Last week, I saw him after a couple of decades and surprisingly, he looked more youthful and vibrant than he did then, with a full head of hair that would give any junior college romeo on FC road a run for his money!

I urge you all to ask Chinu to share with us the secret fountain of his youth.