This journal is a great thing because of the people who read it. When I have a pity party for myself, like I did today, strangers e-mail me and share their stories and words of encouragement. It's inspiring and spirit-lifting.

Today someone wrote me told me that she's been reading for a few months and that she recently lost her father. She shared with me her story, an amazing story of making a life-altering incident a stepping stone to a positive outlook, and said that she had coincidentially had someone read a poem I included in one of my entries at the service. That the last line to the poem is her motto now.

I get e-mails from readers frequently and their tales, both good and bad, always impact my outlook.

I'm about a bottle of Cote de Rhone into this thought process (could I be more of loser right now, in on a Friday night, drinking alone?) - and that would be a stolen bottle that I lifted from the wedding 2 weeks ago, I swear the bartender just offered me the case when I told him we needed libations for late-night!!!! And it was irritating carrying that bottle home in my bag on the train, but let me tell you, it's great now.

But I am thinking, I'm okay. So I'm poor and can't go out. So I work my ass off. So I have to travel for work with no notice. How lucky am I to get an excuse to tear off to the West Coast and see some really good friends? How lucky am I to be regarded as an expert in my field? How great is it that I meet and cultivate relationships with people on the way to the very top of the entertainment field? Who knows where all of this will lead to some day?

I left my office late tonight, thinking how disconnected I am from the city. And for no reason at all, as I waited at the corner to cross the street, I imagined what it would be like if while I am out of the office next week traveling and something should happen to my building like the WTC. I imagined, like a friend of several friends who died in that building, I was traveling and something happened to take away all of those people I work with. I imagined, like him, the initial realization that that was my building and then the thought of all of my friends and co-workers who were in there. I imagined going to the services of all of the people I work with, like him, who's friends and families have become my friends and families. Having to face those people knowing that I wasn't there that day because at the last minute I had to fly to see a client. Having to be the last link of the lost for all of those people, like this guy I know. And even a year later, to me attending the foundation and memorial events, like he does religiously.

Thoughts like those will put you in your place. Imagining standing in his shoes, that's a wake up call to reality. And the craziest part, is that I can't even imagine the half of it. The emotional rollercoaster. The new offices. The new employees. Crazeeeeeeeeeeee.

So yeah, it sucks that I'm poor and have to drink wine stolen from a wedding. It sucks that I work my ass of and have no savings and that I get crazy calls from my brother who tells me that my mother is laying awake at night worrying that I am fucking up my life. And then that my parents are on a 5-year plan to sell the house I was conceived in. And that I get calls from my father who tells me his favorite new show is Becker and when I groan, I have to sit through his re-enactments of the last 3 episodes while he cracks himself up, while my phone rings off the hook with business calls.

And it sucks that I have no boyfriend and I'm not dating anyone right now. And it sucks that I don't know if I am staying or leaving this city, but just living day to day.

But the truth is, I'm lucky to get those calls from my family and to be here, now. To have this life and this bottle of stolen wedding wine.

So fuck the pity party. Rock on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

previous next