Monday, February 7, 2011

Hop, jump, skip forward.

Not much remains the same.  Just a few short months ago I was a married Jersey dwelling actress with an impressive 3 star Danny Meyer/Chef Floyd Cardoz day job.  Today, I am riding the emotional tides of the divorce process, on hiatus from the audition circuit, unemployed and if it wasn't for the good graces of great friends i would be homeless. 

Archie dog and I are lucky to be sofa surfing in a lux apartment in Hell's Kitchen.  The name of any 'hood that refers to the area in which food is stored and meals are created is directly up our digestive alley.

I like food and I'm eating it often.  Mostly I'm attempting to devour my infinite volume of Six Flags type feelings but it turns out that's nearly impossible.  I learn through trial and error and I'm not a quick study.  The result is that I have split a pair of pants and am forced to unbutton my trousers while seated.  My bras don't fit and I hover around in yoga pants-the NYC version of good ol' fashion elastic waist-banded jersey knit sweats.   I pride myself on my foodie ways but just so I don't alienate the general public, I'm currently accepting all applicants.  Pringles, gummy worms, pecan-maple scones with fresh strawberries and milk, chocolate cake, pickles, 99 cent slices of pizza, Pinkberry, lasagna, chips & salsa.  I ate all of that on Sunday....before 6pm...for reals.  

This is not the ideal time to outgrow my wardrobe.  It occurred to me that I must discontinue my pattern of consumption solely for financial reasons.  I can't afford new clothes.  Pathetic but true.  

*Side note and some insight for my men- women love shoes for a variety of reasons but predominantly because after approximately age 10 our shoe size remains the same.  Our weight can continue to fluctuate  throughout our adult lives but we will always manage to slide gracefully into those gorgeous, non judgemental black strappies.*  

I'm not equipped for these sudden self imposed life changes and either is my dog.  He's been puking and peeing all over his new territory, his appetite is nil and he is considerably more lazy.  We're both bummed but he has the privilege of being coddled by three Archie lovers.  There's always a warm lap and a loving hand for the little devil even when he soils an expensive rug.  Lucky jerk. 

Until now I've never broken up with anyone.   My husband was my  first and only everything- ol' skool style.  We met at Kinko's in 1997.   I was 19 and had just moved to Delaware from New Jersey after being kicked out of fashion school and spending the summer backpacking through Europe.  He was a copy boy and I thought he was the bees knees.  Suddenly there was a dire need for at least two of everything that came on paper.  After about a week and a half of invented reasons for facsimile, I grew some courage and used a pick up line to ask him out on a date.  He used a better one in return and we became a couple shortly after. 

I never learned how to split up shared property (who gets the dog/ who gets the fish?) with a live in boyfriend.   Was never forced to discontinue communication with a lover until the pangs of sorrow have quieted or follow any of  those other numerous 21st century breakup rules.  Breaking up is hard to do and sorting and moving all of the items that we bought, we used and we fought over proves ridiculously painful.  Memories spill off of even the most mundane object to harass me and interrupt my progress.  Trying desperately not to speak to a person that you spoke to nearly every day for 13 years is on some days utter torture.  

In goodwill, I recently made the mistake of sending a photo of our/my dog to my future ex (let's call him my "fex").  He loves Archie and I wanted him to know that Archie remains a part of his life despite the fact that we are divorcing.  Presumably honorable, apparently a bad move.  Turns out that it's torment for both parties.  My fex was pained by my text and politely asked me not to communicate with him unless the content is related to our divorce.  A sucky lesson learned.  

I suppose that's a slice of the Pie of Crow.  Growing up, taking care of myself, experiencing versions of hurt and heartache that I had long been protected from and becoming the big girl (pun intended) that I have always wanted to be.  Yes, I wish I could save myself from this baptism through fire.  Double yes, I wish my intellect and wisdom were unmatched and I would consistently find my opinions and choices without challenge or opposition.  But alas, my name is Soha, not Tenzin Gyatso.  Though I'm fairly certain he would be slightly fond of my often repeated and current favorite phrase,
"I'm glad I'm wrong some of the time.  It means that I have learned something."

And yes, my laundry is clean.

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