Ex Ms.

I’ve never been a big fan of Christmas songs. The second Thanksgiving is over Christmas songs seem to find their way into every retail nook and cranny, and proceed to hang around for what feels like an eternity until Christmas day finally arrives. And let’s face it, there’s only so many to choose from. It’s as if the world’s worst mix tape is stuck on repeat and just happens to be omnipresent in every possible listening device. On a good day you may catch me humming to the tune of NFG’s “Ex Miss” which, at least, is somewhat catchy and speaks the truth. But for the most part I spend the month leading up to Christmas plugged into my iPod.

One of my least favorite of the nauseating, yet traditional X-Mas song options has always been “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. It happens to contain the type of repetitive melody that people with epilepsy are told to avoid for fear that it will bring on a seizure. I’m not epileptic, but there have been times when “The Twelve Days …” has sent me fleeing from stores, drained of any patience I may have had to wait in the concert-ticket-length line for the register.

My “other” on the “other” hand claims to be a fan of Jingle Bell Rock. He won’t admit to this and denies it every time I’ve brought it up in the past, but knowing his crush on Lindsey Lohan from her Mean Girls days, I’m quite sure he associates Jingle Bell Rock to Lindsey’s rendition in the movie. Needless to say, Lindsey was clad in a sexy little Santa outfit while slapping her inner thighs during a high-school-passable dominatrix/stripperesque choreographed dance routine.

Getting back to my main point, is there a reason why some ingenious person has not created and marketed a “Revenge on the World’s Bad Christmas Music” mix? The perfect way for others to get through the holidays and still retain a bit of holiday sentiment. Any suggestions?

The Ballad of XX and XY

Over the past week I’ve encountered a new and unexpected turn in the ebb and flow of finding stable ground. As many of you know, living in New York places you on a precarious edge of either going off the deep end, or trying to surround yourself with others who perpetuate normalcy in your own life. For me, XX and XY were two of these individuals that just happened to be married one another. For over 10 years XX has been one of my best friends. And dealing with an unstable family of my own, it was so nice to have a sense of what the word family actually meant. XX and I lived together for several years in college until we split off on our own to explore the world at a larger scale. And in that short amount of time, XX gave me the first-hand experience of knowing what it must be like to have a sibling. She was my sister.

Then one day XX met XY. Before I met XY I was a little worried. Once people get married it’s no longer a solo show; they come as a unit. And sometimes their “better half” turns out to be more of a dud than a welcomed addition, an accessory, if you will, that you have to put up with until the honeymoon phase is over and your friend is willing to hang out solo again. But in this case XY was lovely. So funny, so kind, so welcoming, and so demonstratively in love with my XX that I couldn’t wait until the unit was official. I wasn’t losing a sister; I was gaining XY.

All of this time, 5.5 years to be exact, I found XX and XY to be so in love, so thoughtful of each other, supportive of one another, a role model for what I would one day want in my own marriage. It was only two weeks ago that I couldn’t take my eyes off of them as they sat at a dinner party, hands embraced, kisses being placed on cheeks, apparently still so aware and acknowledging of each other’s presence. I was in awe, and at that moment XX and XY once again affirmed my sense of stability in the world on a grander scale.

Then, out of the blue, XX calls me to deliver the news. It’s over, she’s leaving XY, she’s moving away, it’s ending, and my heart sank into a place that I’ve yet to find. I’m still trying to retrieve it from the hallows of my chest.

The question is what do you do when married couples that you know and love and somewhat depend on in one form or another, stop loving each other? I’ve found myself in such a predicament and have to admit, I’m having a sincerely hard time coping. Is it normal to feel this devastated? Is it right to think that XX and XY are making a mistake and wanting to tell them so? Is it selfish to feel such things? Is it possible to let them go? At this time I’m just at a loss for answers.

XX and XY, I love you both. I wonder if either of you know how much you mean to me?

Memories of Baltimore

I remember the playground in South Baltimore where I used to spend my summer afternoons as a child. It sat at the top of an endless street of red brick row houses. And even though the walk from the street to the playground took only a few moments, once you were up there it felt as if you were on top of the world. The view encompassed the entire waterfront area of South Baltimore. Merely a chain-link fence separated me from the mysteriously shaped steel structures that made up the factories of Sparrow’s Point, Domino Sugar, Western Electric and Crown Cork & Seal.

I would curl my fingers around the chain-link, pressing my face tightly against the fence in an attempt to close the distance between me and the objects that evoked endless adventures in a child’s imagination. But eventually the playground always won my attention. It was one of those glorious old playgrounds from the 1960’s; a sea of awaiting splinters and tetanus shots now deemed unsafe by the Consumer Product Safety Commission. Although at the time it didn't matter. Some of the greatest moments of my childhood took place on those chromate copper arsenate-treated sea-saws and lead paint-covered merry-go-rounds.

The intense heat of a Baltimore summer combined with the lack of trees warmed the metal of the merry-go-round to an almost intolerable temperature, leaving the crisscross pattern of the steel branded onto the backs of my legs. And in the moment of spinning there occurred a dangerous seduction between the speed and the blistering metal that heightened my awareness, as the rest of the world around me blurred into oblivion. When the blur finally slowed to a clarity I would stumble off, running to the edge of the playground in an attempt to continue the dizzying effect. Only to find stability once again as my fingers grasped onto the chain-link fence that separated me from the unknown world waiting below.