Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Dating, or failed and semi-failed attempts, still circle the air these days.  Of the best of the best, here are a few moments that make you wonder why you bothered to shower, flat iron your hair, or wear heels instead of a pair of hole-riddled college sweats and a wife beater. Instead, the weak nature of humanity--and yourself--seek companionship, and you continue to hate and torture yourself . . . Time and time again.  I've had my share of duds and everything in between, and tonight I broke down and asked an old friend what the fuck is wrong with my profile to attract every asshat clown this side of the Mississippi. He assures me it is not me.  I think he's being kind.    I still feel like it is me, as it always is.   Doesn't help that two weeks ago I found out the dude I've been keeping up long distance texts with since August is a racist, wall supporting, anti-social program fucktard.  As the truth unfolded in his ill-punctuated texts, I...

Twenty-five years marks a silver anniversary.  Someone, somewhere, owes me silver.  Why? 25 years ago, this week I take, I went to my doctor's office with an ear infection and easy bruising, and I came home with Lupus.  Just like that, life at sixteen changed. In that regard, as I sit here looking at a quarter of a century, more than half my life, and a sentence comparable to manslaughter I can't say I'm nostalgic.  I mean years of taking vitamins the size of chicken patties, years of staring down the gremlin bottles on my dresser, years of putting my feet on the floor in the morning and letting out moans and wails, years of endless doctor visits and blood draws, and years of wondering when the next friend will bail on me because the Lupus is too much.  That latter part: I called and left a message, the day of a meeting, that I couldn't make it.  Seven years later and I remember the spinning room, the adverse drug side effects, the trips to my p...

When 2016 started I began the year staring at the television, sitting alone on my parents couch, as my Dad slept in the back and the dog was with him.   That day we had checked my mother into a nursing home.  At that moment, I remember thinking if this is a sign for the coming year . . . Yeah. 2016. Here's your fucking match.  Celebrity deaths aside, it's like this year had it out for the world, with a vengeance and flare. That being said, there are many reasons that the departure of this year is a blessing, and by and large I really don't have it in me to rehash every horror filled moment of the 2016 realm of Dante's hell . . . 2016 being the layer he never wrote about.  For two weeks I've been trying to figure out what I would write to close this year . . . I've sewed some, made bras and jeans and a couple silk blouses, I've travelled, I've taught, I've collapsed under it all, I've lost myself, I've lost my faith in resilience . . ...

Things I've found myself unprepared for. . . well, there's a list, and like any red-blooded human being they range from hysterical, tragic, to embarrassing. These days . . . Lady Gaga's new album hits home more than I would have expected, especially since I'm not a large LG fan.  Yet, for several days--okay a near week--I've been blaring it pretty regular.  That being said, the irony resonates as between blaring LG and extended Beyonce playlists I have been editing and writing women's narratives.  Why, yes . . . yes, I see the oxymoronic humor.  I certainly wasn't prepared for that album to shock me awake these days.  Parallel to that, though, that stupid thing called Lupus has been knocking on the inside cellar door again. The knock, knock of Lupus for me typically comes with crushing muscle cramps, joint on fire between the prongs of a c-clamp, and kidneys knocking out their own beat to Use Your Illusion II .  The slow ballad beats of "November Ra...

A couple of weeks ago a someone I know sent me a note about Lupus.  He's got a student with it this semester, and he had questions.  He, and some others I know, say they only know Lupus via me and someone joked--years ago--how I am the Lupus Whisperer we all know.  Of course for every positive there is a negative . . .  there is someone else I no longer talk to who always interjects with "I don't understand what Lupus is anyway and I really don't see what the big deal is." After twenty plus years you shake chumps like that from the sugar tree, as we say. Though, that knowing Lupus through me . . . I'm not sure how I feel about that, as on most days I wouldn't say I'm a legit voice on much of anything.   I went vocal with the Lupus Life years ago, in retaliation to lovers, friends, and now one ex-husband responding so unkindly to it.  In all reality I should be used to it all by now.  When the message came about Lupus it arrived on the heels of my...