Archive for 2009

Femmz

December 31st, 2009 | Liz Gold

Currently I’m getting music together for the Femme Family NYC party tonight. I’m assuming I won’t really need it, as I’m sure the ladies have it covered, but one can never be sure … especially since I’ve offered to (wo)man the music station.

I was telling Wendy yesterday that I hope it’s not a repeat of when I tried to DJ that Jewcy Retreat back in ’02. I brought my stereo and thought I’d play music and call it good, forgetting all these people were from the city, yo. And I was just a girl from Maine with a bit of bravado and naive talent.

Anyway.

It won’t happen tonight. I’ve got some Steph mixes on back up, I’ve put together a good playlist and have some JD mixes to add in there too. Should be all set. The key is to just RELAXXX and have fun and enjoy the music. Cause the shit is hella good and if they don’t like it, well, don’t know if we can secure our relationship …cause it’s the best I’ve got.

So funny how I get nervous around girls. I think it’s because cliques really scare me, even though I’ve wanted to run with the Pink Ladies my whole life. Ha …

So I’ve got a couple of leopard print numbers I could go with or this HOT classy looking dress and just accessorize. No, I’m gonna save that for Captain when he gets to pick me up from work. It’s snowing so I’m gonna have to wear rubbers in so I think I’m going for cute n sassy n foxy rather than highfatuting glam. But we’ll see.

Here’s to getting out there! xo

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No pressure but …

December 26th, 2009 | Liz Gold

I’ve got a zillion things going through my mind.
My jaw is sore from overanalyzing and anxiety.

I’ve had two days off and I realize I feel a bit frantic to figure things out,
in terms of what I’m doing with my energy and time. I feel like by now I should have had it together better. Have done something brilliant already. Have a better idea of how I want to live my life, the people in it, what I want to be doing and where I want to be.

Sure, I know some of these things. I’ve discovered a lot here since moving.
But I feel like I’ve been all talk and no action. Or let me edit that, I know what I want but it seems like I’m mountains of way from actually living it.

I realize this is probably not true. I did get myself here, sustained an apartment by myself for two and a half years on my shitty salary and have been able to put up with the bull shit of working a corporate day job. Blah blah blah. I’ve also healed from a devastating relationship(s), transformed my body and started to explore BDSM. I have done everything I set out to do in that regard.

So when you think about it, I’ve moved and changed things up a lot. And I’m not that far away from accomplishing more. I just need a swift kick in the ass towards focus. That’s all. And to rethink time management.

I’m my own worse critic. I fear that I think I’m smarter than I actually am.
Now it seems, however, I am entering a new phase. I’ve been so clogged up artistically and it’s weird because I don’t even really know what I should be creating. So that leaves me sort of blind, trying to figure out how and what to try … I guess, as I write this, this is my permission to explore and get my hands dirty so to speak … but I think I’m kind of scared of that. Or maybe I’m just lazy. Like Steph always said … She had a way of conveying truth.

I know I can get things done and I know I do get things done and I’m a slow and steady wins the race kind of girl … but I feel that my window of opportunity and gust of greatness is closing and thinning out, not because I’m getting older, but because I’m getting more complacent. I’m settled into something that I’m afraid to move around in and change things and take up more space. Why not. Well, it makes me shake because I was trained not to.

Except well, I did talk to my boss about working from home 5 days a month and I did come out to him. Yeah, so it took me three years of being miserable. I finally did do it, and it was not only for my sake, but for the sake of all around me because I was becoming a total lifeless drone. We’ll see if that helps or not, if it stretches my stay. They key is to use the time as I want, reorganize my work so I can do it in four days (which I can) and just do social networking stuff from my home, which will be proof that I am actually doing something there. Easy, and it will just improve what I’m doing since I’m barely doing it now.

I revised a to do list and some basic things that I want to accomplish over the next few months … I really need, for the sake of my trust in myself, to make them happen and accept where I am right now in my life. Where else did I think I’d be? I think more fulfilled in my day’s work and artistically blooming. Romantically things are going well and I’m exploring in that area as I’ve always wanted. Are we only supposed to thrive at one thing at a time? I don’t think so… but maybe for a while at first?

Meanwhile, I am fighting pangs of guilt because my brother is (finally) moving to Connecticut today. After a party, a postponed party and a happy hour he is making his way to Derby. My parents followed him down today to help him move in. Last night my folks asked me if I wanted to take the train up and meet them and stay over in their hotel for the night. My stomach sank. No, not really. I told them I’d let them know.

They called me later in the evening to follow up. I called them back this morning when I woke up. They were already on the road and assumed I wasn’t coming. They understood. “At least we got to catch up by phone,” my mom said.

GUILT. I didn’t want to go. The thought made me want to stay in bed, under my covers. That can’t be good. It’s like I’m finally unwinding from them and all that they taught me and all that never fit. I have to sift through it all and decide what to keep of my conditioning. It’s a mind fuck.

But I’m so glad I decided to stay home. I worked out in my building’s gym and that felt good because I had done it yesterday too. If I could get up at a decent time and straight up run for a half hour before work, that just might do me a world of good.

*********************

Currently I am making a mix called Sweet beats…

I realize these posts are just me ranting, it’s like my diary, which is not what was intended upon it’s creation. Lately I’ve been wanting to save all the blog posts somewhere and then delete them all to start fresh. I like the concept of 14 Karat Living, but what it is really? What is it about my life that is compelling for people to read? Is it my insight? The way I put words together (because I am no literary wordsmith or academic mind that’s for sure)? Or is just what I’m doing and the good trouble I find … I’m curious…

So if you read this, let me know why you read this. Please?

Until next time,
LG

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Gratitude v. 2009

December 3rd, 2009 | Liz Gold

Hi.
Can’t take credit for the cuteness factor of the headline, I swiped the idea off of this girl Kathleen’s blog. I used to work with her back in my Mainely Newspaper days. We’re both Tauruses. Except she’s Christian, married and has a toddler. I barely keep in touch with her anymore, but yeah, I read her blog.

The point is, HELLO GRATITUDE. How are ya? I’ve been in a piss poor PMS state of funk for the last week or so and just fucking miserable. Poor Captain. She’s been going through major life changes and I’ve been bitching about … wait, what have I been bitching about?

So today I got a few signs. I picked up my check from that cleaning gig in October and Joanne of MAGIC, PASSION, LOVE! reminded me that she makes gratitude lists when things get tough and you want to throw a tantrum. I was like, oh yeah, gratitude lists, I’ve heard that tactic before, isn’t that what Stephanie used to tell me to do ALL THE TIME? The other sign? Well, I’ve been devoid of any creative activity and that’s probably why I’m so tired and drained. So I get a random call from Mindwrecker, a DJ friend of mine from Maine who now lives in sunny Florida. He’s asking me on my VM how I am, am I still scratching (vinyl) and blogging? Gulp. No, but I’m surfing a lot of Facebook! I’m visiting the Coop for my fancy mineral water! I’m … well, what the hell am I doing?

Anyway, I’ve bitched about this before. So without further ado, my gratitude list of the past year and beyond …

I’m grateful that I have all my teeth. (I was talking to a homeless person yesterday and believe me, this is FOR REAL).
I’m grateful that I have the confidence to work out in the weight room with the dudes. Douchebags that they are.
I’m grateful that my boss encourages me to work out and that he does attempt to give a shit about my life, even though it’s annoying to answer his questions, it’s better than him not giving a shit.
I’m grateful that I have a family that wants to help me and is supportive for the most part.
I’m grateful for heat and a hot shower and fancy mineral water and Ezekial granola. And chocolate.
I’m grateful that my roommates are fairly normal and we like each other.
I’m grateful for the random smile on the subway.
I’m grateful that I have pretty good hair, even though I hardly brush it.
I’m grateful that I get noticed for my work, even if it’s not work I want to be doing.
I’m grateful for my working laptop and my new iPhone and my new cute camera.
I’m grateful that I’ve been able to sustain myself here in New York for three years.
I’m grateful for warm days in December.
I’m grateful that I have a multiple day vacation to look forward to with Captain in a matter of days.
I’m grateful for dogs on the street.
I’m grateful for my bed and my blankets and my Wahl vibrator!
I’m grateful for new opportunities that come my way and random calls like from hot Anne asking me to come to her dance party … in Maine.
I’m grateful for long nights out dancing just when I think I’m going to lose my mind.
I’m grateful for my gym, even if is corporate and filled with douchebag executives. I’m grateful for the sauna and the steam room and that I can leave the cube for an hour and a half every day.
I’m grateful for good friends who listen to me and think I’m funny and brave and hot.
I’m grateful for the ability to type and write.
I’m grateful for a blog by Stephanie Nienie, a mother of four who is living with burns on 83 percent of her body. She’s religious and is followed by many Oprah lovers but I secretly read it everyday because she inspires me.
I’m grateful that I’m not your typical nice Jewish girl.
I’m grateful for music that takes me to another place and time.

and

I’m grateful for love. How it entered my life, how it remains in my life, how it lifts my life. I’m grateful for it in all its various forms. I’m grateful for hot sex, intimacy and waves of emotion even if sometimes it feels overwhelming.
I’m grateful for the people who are no longer in my life anymore, the ones who I have loved and learned from, who’s lessons have lingered in my heart and mind.

I’m grateful for the chance to pull myself out of this rat race I’ve been living.
I’m grateful for tackling fear and knowing I have to take risks – physical, sexual and emotional risks.
I’m grateful for having the will and desire to figure it out, knowing it won’t be all figured out in this lifetime.
I’m grateful for being grateful.

It feels good.

xxx

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Well, hello

September 12th, 2009 | Liz Gold

It’s been a while, no? I’ve not exactly been offline but I haven’t had much time to really play (and blog) on the Internet (outside of work) cause I just moved and we don’t have access at our place yet. Yes, that’s right! A new apartment, er condo – over in Crown Heights – between the Ortho Jews and the West Indians. Kinda crazy and I’ve been having freak outs all week. I’m funny. I want all this change and then when it finally happens I have minor melt downs about everything I can’t control, everything that is different. I realize I have a hard time letting things reveal themselves, even though stepping back and letting things do just that has proven to be the most rewarding way to roll.
The place is fine … though everything that was attractive is pretty superficial as we don’t have gas to cook with yet, the pretty white stone floor shows my long dark hairs and dust making me want to sweep constantly and the water pressure is weak and not that hot. Plus there doesn’t seem to be any phone jack, so I’m not sure outside of a cable option how to get internet.
But you know. It’s OK. It’s forcing me to get creative and resourceful and not to mention shaking me out of my complacent slumber. FUCK YES.
Yesterday after I pulled the plug on my Verizon Wireless Internet service (basically long story short, they are in the process of sending a modem to me and were supposed to have someone come over to install on Wednesday. Something told me to call them and confirm and I learn no one was coming, a visit by the tech guy wasn’t even in the system and that we would have a $129 installment fee. I totally hit the roof and cancelled the service on the spot) … I had a realization. SLOW DOWN. It’s OK that all these things are happening and the place isn’t perfect, CREATE it differently. Be thoughtful. I hate Verizon. I’ve been a customer of their’s in the past and they have sharp teeth. There’s got to be a local provider who can come over on a weekend and hook us up. I mean, this is NYC, isn’t it? We’re supposed to have choice here, right?

**************************

Last night I went out to Bushwick. I decided that I was going to have a weekend of no responsibility. I don’t think that’s going to quite happen, but coming home at 5:45aM was fucking fun as was flirting with people all night and dancing obnoxiously in tight jeans and a nude colored tank top. I started walking to find the bus to Bushwick at around 9 and of course I got lost. I’m in a strange neighborhood but I can’t be afraid of it because it’s my neighborhood. So I ask this well-dressed black couple where Bus 46 is and they kindly tell me and then I say I’m new to the neighborhood and the man says oh you are, let me give you my card, I’m an accountant. I almost died right there. If that’s not a sign … a weird sign, but a sign … then I don’t know what is … everybody I asked directions for to the bus were super kind and I found the bus stop and it literally left me right in front of my friend’s door. I told the bus driver which stop I was looking for and he told me and asked me if I was going to a club. I liked it. My friend’s place was HUGE and she is literally under the JMZ near the Myrtle stop so the train shook through and you had to talk loud. We drank tequila drinks and rolled spliffs and listened to music and talked about Portland (she lived there, though we weren’t friends there) and all the publications out there now. She’s a graphic designer and used to work for the Phoenix, an alternative pub there. I wrote for the Casco Bay Weekly, a competitor. I told her I always wanted to start a magazine and she told me she did too.
Hmm …
We go to Tandem in Bushwick, this new joint that is inconspicuous on a residential block and the place has a bar, a side room with a few candle-lit tables (we dubbed it the make out room) and a dance floor … I loved the dance floor the minute I walked in … small, but big enough, smoke filled, lights and a clear sound system. Plus there were cutie stylish hipster gay boys walking around and a few modeling jock straps … and there was a hot dancer I recognized from the dance troupe at the That’s My Jam party a few weeks ago … she reminds me of the singer Pink … she was dancing up on this box wearing fucking next to nothing and we made eye contact a bit and she introduced herself to me and I told her I saw her dance at that party and that the way she moves her body is hot as was the energy she exudes …… her name, what the fuck is her name … Jackie. Yep.
I eye a young andro and she immediately comes over to talk with me. Before I know it we’re in the make out room and I’m listening to her talk about where she’s from in Connecticut and her mom and her job as a film set designer (and I laugh to myself and think of Captain) and realize even though she’s cute and excited about her life in hip Bushwick, I don’t want to hear any of this or be sitting down. She’s 20 I learn. I excuse myself and head on out to find Nac.
I don’t know what happened next. At some point we go dance and they are playing a mix of George Michael and Michael Jackson and Technotronic stuff, and it’s mostly good except for the Britney, but more than that I’m in the fucking mood. I take my shirts off and just fucking start grinding with Nacona and flirt with T-bone, the boy who helped me move the other day. He’s either not interested, or shy. And I really hate that game. But he’s there and he knew I was coming and his friends have left. And when 20 year old attaches herself to me after I want to take a break from a few dances and her up in my face, he puts his arm around me and just looks at her. Funny. Hilarious, actually.
So we closed the bar. And I LOVED that. We were actually told to leave.
I got home at 5:45 this morning. YESSSSSS! I AM young and alive.

***************************
So what else?
I think that’s good for now. I just remembered how to blog from my Blackberry so maybe I’ll start blogging from bed. Or from my black chair or from my desk or from the bathroom stall at work or from wherever. Ya never know.

Got lots more to say. It’ll come, promise.

x

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The only thing I regret is the bell hooks collection …

August 16th, 2009 | Liz Gold

Stoop sale today, it was impromptu as Charlene texted me while I was still in bed this morning. How long would I need to get ready? Not long, I packed up shit last night just in case.

Greg helped me down the stairs with the CD desk, that was a heavy presence in my kitchen … and I had bags of clothes, a couple of end tables, vinyl and books… plus, I’d been plucking things that Steph has given me over the years. Just recently all those hoochie shirts from Flint. I wanted vintage. She brought me 90s club clothes.

So we go to south Slope and park near Meshimar … it’s fucking hot. And I made a pact that nothing that came out of my house would come back in. Amongst my piles? All my bell hooks books that I bought in college and shortly thereafter because she turned me onto feminism and I couldn’t get enough of her words and thoughts. Her old columms in Paper Magazine changed my life. I was like, this is the writing I like, this is the writing I want to do … Why I decided to get rid of those books first is beyond me … this guy Jesse, a sweet gay guy from Queens, I met at JEWCY years back was walking by on his way to the bus to Riis Beach … we chat and I give him “Outlaw Culture,” hooks’ critique on the media.

It was hot out there today. I made some extra money, I love it when my wallet bulges with cash … the rest of the stuff we left with another free box nearby and dropped off at a women’s shelter in Park Slope. What they will do with those Mary Jane stilettos I had in there is beyond me, but here’s to the offer anyways.

Also I kept the Taxi lunchbox. Greg kept mentioning it and was surprised when I wanted to leave it on the side of the street. So I took it. And of course Charlene & I swapped clothes … & her friend Cindy took a couple of my items for consignment at the store … so yeah,

The most important thing is that I got rid of shit! And Charlene’s gonna take my couch next week to bring upstate to their house. Yes. That TV is going outside first chance I get.

The only way to get out of this door is if I push myself out … out into the world a bit more, emerging from the cave. Funny that I always call it that …

I took a nap after the stoop sale event. And I woke up with a headache …….. probably going to bed at 3AM after another bout of insomnia didn’t help either. Bong hits cured that this morning. I’ve got some thoughts on weed and my intake … but more on that later.

That’s all I got, kids.

xo

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‘Sometimes being stirred up is the only way to settle’

August 13th, 2009 | Liz Gold

Someone dropped this nugget in my inbox towards the end of the day today. It’s a person I almost didn’t make an effort to connect with while I was in Vegas. But I ended up having lunch with her and she not only came out to me, but I came out to her. Both of us work in the accounting profession. She asked me if I was out at work. I gave her some lame excuse like, “well, I’m single, so it’s never really come up.” Or “well, I’m kinda private.” What bullshit. My boss used the word dyke twice one time in the same conversation. I only just looked at him and blinked.
I wrote her today and told her it was great to see her and that her comment really stirred me up. She wrote me back the quote at the headline of this post. Then she offered to write for me. I offered ink to her cause and support her business.

I’ve been really working on my attitude. Steph always talked about self-pity and how it can really destroy you. I have to get out my Jedi sword when I deal with self-pity. “Oh, I’m in love with someone who is across the country and has a girlfriend and has this whole life out there having fun without me. Oh, I’ll only get to see her for a short period of time. Oh, why would the universe bring me something so good to only have it go away?” Shall I go on? It doesn’t help the situation and it certainly doesn’t help me to grow. And take care of myself. And figure out just how to have passionate, deep, intimate love in my life in the balanced and healthy way I want. So I needed to stop.

I mean, it got to the point where I would start to tear up when I got emails from Captain. I don’t want that. That’s heavy. And the fastest way to kill something that’s good. The relationship is a living, breathing thing. It will change. Sometimes I bet I won’t necessary like the change (like living in separate states) but it just might work out in my favor. After all, I have a lot of living to do. On my own. And we all know, anything resembling a conventional relationship scares the shit out of me and hasn’t worked out well in the past.

Everything is evolving as it should, even if there are growing pains. It’s hard not to see Captain’s face on a regular basis. Or touch or make jokes or fuck or eat chocolate together or bump into him on purpose on the street while walking. I really miss that physicality. But on the other hand, it’s a whole new way of communicating now. We’re getting to know each other in a new way, one that forces a different type of creativity. Plus, it gives me space to think, to process, to be on my own, yet with some amazing love at my back. I need that right now as I launch into my new phase of life.

I really believe I will have everything I want. Because now that I realize what I want, I know it’s not that difficult to achieve. Focus makes everything better. Verushka once told me I needed to live life with more precision. That stung and stuck with me, because she’s right.

I have to feel grateful for what I do have. So cheesy, right? But seriously, I have A LOT and have the power to make some great change around me – in everywhere from my job to myself. I just have to continue to live authentically, take my ego out of the game and watch for messages. They’ll tell me how to proceed.

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Greetings from Vegas

August 11th, 2009 | Liz Gold

I’m here for a blink to cover the Forum for Women in Accounting … just got here this afternoon, but it already feels like I’ve been away forever. Weird. This evening I had dinner at Okada, this Japanese restaurant in the Wynn, where I’m staying. I sat at the sushi bar, had a really really strong Saketini, a salad, a rainbow roll and spicy tuna roll … it was a lot of food, as you can see, but I put quite the dent in it. My dinner companion was this 68-year-old guy from LA, in the commercial real estate biz, who travels here every week …………… When I told him I covered accounting, he was surprised and said, “really, with your tattoo, I would have thought you’d be covering something adventurous.” ha. Apparently he studied journalism back in the day, but decided to get out because of the low wage. Yeah, I said with a smile, tell me something I don’t know.
We were talking about parents and kids, he was asking about mine (parents, not kids) and said the worst thing a parent can do is be judgmental …his son, who used to live in New York, works for Myspace, which is going down the tubes, as everyone knows. He also asked me if I found someone I really liked in New York and I said, “sort of.”
He was a funny guy, and I liked his philosophy and his ease. It was a nice alternative to dining alone … though I would have been fine with that too ………

Since I have $35 in slot machine money to spend ….. I spent a bit of it and won $11.00. Yippppeee! I keep asking people where the machine to win $100,000 is, and well, nobody seems to know.

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