Monthly Archives: August 2013

Where dreams are made

that is what new york claims to be. a place that if one can “make it here, you can make it anywhere.” but what does that even mean?

I’m sitting in my office at work, waiting to see a new patient coming in roughly 30 or so minutes, listening to Andrew Belle and wondering– what does it mean to make it?

There are lots of things I like. I mean, I like my job. But there are so many other things I want to do– cook and bake more, make more music mixes and share them, visit with little old people in nursing homes, travel, read, learn a language, write more letters, make more jewelry. sigh.

And then there are things like new york fashion week and galas and being interviewed by vogue and going to “outstanding in the field” dinners, and going to the cape or the vineyard or nantucket. that i’m looking at from way outside. i guess that is discontent? (ignorance is indeed bliss).

I talked with mary gardiner’s mother last night about how the “other half” lives. and how it must be something.

I was watching an interview with Hannah Bronfman and I was struck by the fact that this beautiful and clearly intelligent socialite woman felt the need to name drop over 7 celebrities in a 5 minute interview. I mean, she has NOTHING to improve. but yet, there it was. I didn’t get it. no one cares about your mom being friends with josephine baker’s daughter or who your dad would have over to the house. You don’t need to qualify anything. you’ve done some really cool things.

oh well. apparently no matter where you are you feel the need to validate it. maybe that is humanity?

this is very stream of consciousness. i’m going to stop now.


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Cut your losses aka Guilty makes noise

“Guilty makes noise.”

A med school friend’s mother told us this over a meal at Rumba (Vive la Nashville) in reference to the petty behavior of frienemies and snubs that women love to inflict on each other.

I am going to say that is a universal truth. The more explaining someone does when you ask or address  about a concern/question is directly proportional to how much they feel they are trapped and are trying to get out. And how NOT innocent they are.

The theme of 2013 is going to be the death of a friendship. both literally and figuratively. granted MG’s death does not mean our friendship is over. I just won’t get picked up and swung around a room, have someone threaten to beat up someone who has hurt me, or dissect the fine points of cable tv with me any longer. 

I think women are sometimes horrid to each other. but more so, cowardly. they hide behind vapidness, when they are often extremely calculating. or they hide behind vapidness when they just don’t want to face the music.

friendship is hard work. when you are friends with someone you are not sleeping with, you can’t “seduce’ your way into someone’s good graces, you have to “human” up and address things. you HAVE to talk. cry if you have to. wave your hands around. pace. 

real relationships that have depth are not for the faint of heart. and they will survive distance, miscommunication, silence, annoyance, and confusion.

i’m starting to think that if they don’t survive they were a mirage to begin with. merely something convenient for a period of time.

as an extrovert, i gain a lot of my energy from friends. i put a lot of energy in and i process my feelings/hopes/fears/dreams with them. which is why i lack a lot of tolerance for being screwed over. or at least feeling like I am. 

Love is definitely action more so than words. It is making people a priority. Letting them share in your celebrations as much as your griefs. I appreciate the friends I do have.

the people who ask how I am feeling. the people who call. the people who write. the people who visit. the people who pray for me. the people who ask me to do life with them.

we don’t have to see everything thing the same. we can disagree. but we can still support each other.

* I apparently don’t have photos of Karen, Courtney, Ali, Rebecca, Danna, Prouty, Gwen or Ayesha on my computer which is upsetting to me. Must be on the external hard drive, but I’m shouting you out ladies.





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