Almost every time I look at the clock, it says 9:11. Every single day, sometimes twice a day, I see this number. As if I would ever forget. I will NEVER forget.
Alcohol – methyphobia [Understandable, just don’t hang out with me.]
Anything New – neophobia [Change is always hard.]
Church – ecclesiophobia [The structure will not hurt you unless it collapses on you.]
Cooking – mageirocophobia [New York-area people: What is cooking?]
Dolls – pediophobia [Oh, so true. If you didn’t watch the ventriloquist or mannequin episodes of The Twilight Zone, check out this book I loved as a child that my mother just got out of her storage unit. Disturbed would be a mild reaction. WTF are adults in charge of childhood entertainment doing? And furthermore, why did I like this damn book?)
Eating – phagophobia [Another excuse for anorexia.]
Holy things – hagiophobia [A friend went home with a guy who had shrines/ relics to the Holy Lord everywhere. How can you Marvin Gaye and Get It On with that staring at you? #sinners]
Home – ecophobia [I get it if you only had terrible memories.] I am still very much a “home is where the heart is” and, like, my family is EVERYTHING. My own home is EVEN BETTER. I’m a homebody?
Ice or Frost – pagophobia [I have a medical condition and totally relate.]
Kissing – philemaphobia [TRAGIC. Completely TRAGIC.]
Laughter – geliophobia [Again, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?]
Light – photophobia [Most people I know are opposite. Does that mean we’re optimistic?]
Memories – mnemophobia [We all have bad ones…]
Religion – theophobia [no need to be afraid unless it’s corrupting your life. I mean, we live in a free world where you do not have to believe in anything.]
My current truth.
Lyrics here for reference.
Thanks @nicki_lo for introducing me to all of @sarabareilles. I would have forgotten the music of that night if you didn’t cover this song like a boss. Ed. update: And was reminded how much I love you singing this song when you did a late night cover 11/6/16.
Welcome to the UES, where old money gents are mellow yet insecure because they didn’t earn it themselves, or, even worse, it is from their wife’s side of the family and hurts their di(ck)nity.
Moving down to other generations, like mine, which I think have a slightly better grasp of the real world, I am still bothered by the double-kiss, or the improper way of not switching hands (fork only in your dominant hand; knife down resting diagonally on edge of plate) once you cut something while dining. If you are not from Europe, why are you following European etiquette?! One kiss, and switch hands.
Seriously, for everything old-money privilege buys in education and smart connections, you should know better. I am always appalled to see how the most wealthy are so dumb when it comes to proper etiquette and manners. Simple things like introducing people or being able to connect with new people through the art that is known as conversation.
I think it is safe to say that many children of old money are ill-trained in manners and the value of hard work (I mean very hard work with long hours, not doing community service for your current DUI or coke-induced altercation). I don’t know if your parents encouraged you to pursue anything you wanted, or just told you you could do anything you want. There is a difference.
This isn’t necessarily about a sense of entitlement, but being raised with a sense of how to speak, how to act around others, and how to treat other people, no matter from where. I’ve found that many of the 1% don’t get it. These are invaluable lessons that will hold you back from pursuing your dreams, no matter how connected you are. If you cannot connect to people, they will not be connecting back.
I feel sorry for you fortunate enough to have a few generations of inherited money, because often that means you were not encouraged to develop inherent people skills.
Anyway, my two-kiss lover from Europe…well, I just found out he has four names! So now I really can’t make fun. Except for those table manners 😉
But take a moment to think about every aspect of your public persona, as well as your audience in any setting.
And behave accordingly FTW.
I picked up my clean and perfectly folded laundry this evening from “panty-man” (my name for Felix) and he informed me that he packaged my belongings in a new bag because mine (my Kent School laundry bag) was “falling apart,” and “Gia, no charge but that one is just…done; it’s not working out for you.”
But I don’t use other bags! Every other laundry bag I’ve bought is terrible and could be called a “dumb-bag,” so I rely on my Kent one.
I’ve already had to retire my Camp Seafarer laundry bag (reserved for whites) because it really did have too many holes to function. Rock it, North Carolina.
While not emotionally attached to anything made out of material, I realized these bags happen to be the best and have lasted decades. Other laundry bags have just not been good to me. They are too long; I am too short. I do not like synthetic blends, the list goes on, etc.
(BTW, I recently saw a Kent laundry bag in my BFF’s apt. I am not the only one who still relies on it, and therefore feel OK admitting this.)
I think my issue with panty-man Felix is “Why didn’t you ask before replacing it?” But to him it was a matter of, “Darling, I’m doing you—and your devoted team here—a favor. We cannot work like this.”
Well, I cannot carry some no-name bag that has no functionality. It’s my Kent laundry bag and is still the sturdiest (yes, with a few holes) perfect package and I want to use it.
Rip my soul, then. If there will be no bag, I welcome you to arrange everything in my closets and drawers as well. I cannot walk a block carrying anything else, even if you fold everything as perfectly as you do.
Change is always difficult, *sigh.*
The popular (senior) boys in high school were called The Crunchies. They were a mix of highly preppy, privileged stoners with major sideburns and long hair, though this was not the seventies, just 1998.
They listened to The Grateful Dead, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Cream (and Eric Clapton on his own), and developed a love affair with Phish that they’ve sustained for life. They preferred bow ties and Nantucket Red pants.
The Crunchies were an interesting type of bad boy, and all of the freshman girls, including myself, were fascinated. The Crunchies, in turn, were fascinated with us. While we had the youth card to our advantage, we were our own off-the-cuff breed that diverged from previous generations of our prep school’s girls. We were loud and opinionated (and maybe, yes, cringe-a-little tacky), but we ruled.
Perhaps part of the appeal was the opposition. They brought introspective chill into our lives and we brought the festivity & flair into theirs.
The Kent Crunchies in their photo glory…
It’s hard to keep everybody’s secrets, but I am loyal and have only spilled when the confiding person threw a number on me.
Imagine not speaking to a soul about what you know. An abortion or secret love child from an affair (so many with infidelity scenarios), a reputation-harming fetish or sickness, the cheating on a major major major exam, money laundering, or (accidentally?!) killing someone (j/k, luckily don’t know anyone with that last one). What do you know about other people than you cannot share? And how does it haunt you?
It is hard to know things, but when you give someone your word, you give them your word. I have kept many secrets from daylight. Most are those I wish I had never known in the first place.
There are secrets that are merely gossip-worthy, and you need to unleash on at least one party not involved because that person has no one to share it with—or at least no one that matters where it would circle in the relevant circle. [Or you may just be an unloyal beyatch who has nothing to talk about other than gossip and needs to share it. Ya’ll are dumb and not part of my post so be gone.]
But the real test of being a secret-keeper is thinking before you speak when an unknowing third party mentions something uncannily related to the very secret you’re harboring in conversation. You cannot forget that your knowledge is secret and that an utterance of a single word will do plenty harm and no good.
Harboring is exhausting. It is shocking and hard to believe what some people have gone through/are going through. I need not add to their issues and talk about it. More importantly, people confide in me and I respect their trust in my loyalty. My lips will be zipped, but sometimes knowing is overwhelming.
Nail Polishes have increasingly clever names since the dawn of creatively naming colors.
Topless & Barefoot
No More Waity Katie
Teal The Cows Come Home
Turquoise & Caicos
Good Man-darin is Hard to Find
Haute in the Heat
Swagger Like Us
Tart With A Heart
Bikini So Teeny
Lacy Not Racy
Adore A Ball
After School Boy Blazer
Skirting The Issue
Peach Side Babe
Orange, It’s Obvious!
The last is my new favorite Essie, because it looks good…and feels oh-so-good.
I remember my mother telling me about a former friend of hers who said, “If only I get that new Mercedes, I’ll be happy;” “When I get that mink fur coat, I’ll be happy.” The thing was, she got those things and countless others, and was never happy.
When it came to materialistic things, she got everything she wanted. There was no financial issue holding her back from obtaining what her heart(?) desired, yet acquiring those things did not make her happy—at least not in the way she thought they would. She had a void that could not be filled by accumulating beautiful objects. Neither could it be filled by her loving husband and amazing daughter.
I feel extremely sorry for people like her. Take a look around you and look at everything that you do have.
Who cares about that shit when you have been blessed with health, happiness, and love (naturally!)?
I think this country needs to get Back to Basics, and I say country, because this is not just some local problem of my parents’ and their friends’ generations having wayyy more money than they knew what to do with, spending lavishly (read: foolishly) and running out of things to spend it on in the boom-boom eighties and early nineties. No, this is something that has contributed to ruining of the US of A on a national level involving everyone, regardless of economical level. Something that I do not see when I travel elsewhere. #Ungratefulness #ShameonUS
The introduction of “reality” TV and social media birthed the hideous term fomo (“fear of missing out” Oh, the horror [eye-roll]), and media use this as their tool to instill our spending weaknesses (money and time), all of which have only heightened our anxiety and dissatisfaction with our own lives.
Moving on from my childhood of Material Eighties Excess, there is a much bigger beast in the room: Knowing everything others have and are doing In Real Time. Smartphones and computers have not only allowed us to be connected 24/7, they encourage us to be involved in the diaspora, to live in the false sense of world that others create, the stories they write about themselves, and tactically entice us to partake in a Jones game rather than be aware of real life.
It’s embarrassing that technology, which has helped us in so many ways socially, has truly hindered the human race in actual, real-life social communication. I was trying to watch a football game and everyone in the room was on their phones—including (sad to admit it) me.
I especially appreciate how people beg for my one-on-one time and then when I finally carve out an afternoon in my crazy-busy schedule for that person, they need to call their boyfriend/gf to update on “Gia and I just saw this. We are having so much fun” or snapchat or interrupt their own story because “We must take a photo here” or some such. We are all guilty but STOP. I don’t get to talk with you every day; I made the time; and I don’t want to be present if you are not.
I am here; I am now.
And I will not be here next time because you are wasting my time to communicate with someone you see every day (when I could be working on my infinite creative projects in the works that I tear myself away from to spend time with you).
I will not be here forever.
The time is way overdue to Get Back to Basics. Be here, be mindful, be present. Look around you. Life is happening Now.
OK, my life is not as dark or extreme, but it’s hard to be #charmingasfuck all of the time.