Day 351: . . . Again

I wrote and posted my original day 351 and then did something I’ve never done before, I took it down. Generally, this blog serves as a sort of personal journal for me and my exploration of self-discovery. Sometimes, however, I go a little too far and the other day I crossed a line even I was uncomfortable with. It’s not that anything I write is untrue or that I do not believe is valid, but I do recognize that I’m not always able to adequately convey my true sentiments in my writing. Tone does sometimes get lost in the writing and what is left comes across in a way I never intended.

This is what separates the good writers. They are able to show the reader what is happening behind the action and plot points. Of course, this is a journal not a story so I do not always aspire to such heights, but I do realize that without proper context, what I write may not accurately reflect the truth. My habit has always been to trust that as long as what I write is the truth there is validity in it, but I suppose even I have limits.

Consequently, I am taking a few days to reflect on what I’ve written, what I’ve learned and where I want to go. The blog will be officially over in two weeks and I want to make sure that I have stayed true to my original intent. Therefore, I am taking it a little slower and ensuring that what I write in these final days are words I really want to stand behind. This is the only journal I have ever managed to stay with beyond a few days and I’d like it to be real straight through to the end. Even so, I do realize that just because something is true, that does not mean I should put it out into the world. See, I have a filter . . . sort of.

Day 350: What Would You Do?

Tonight while I was unpacking from the recent move I turned the TV on. It was more for background noise than to watch, but I happened to turn it on right in the middle of a show called “What Would You Do?” The premise of the show is one I remember from Dateline or one of those other evening news magazine type shows. If you are not familiar with the set up, an easy way to describe it is to say that it is basically the principle by which I live my life.


You likely know me if you are reading this and to know me is to know that I have a big mouth and a penchant for stirring things up. If I see someone that I perceive as needing help I will offer, likewise, if I see a person who needs someone to tell them to take a flying leap, I’ll do that too. The show hides cameras and hires actors to portray situations of varying controversial nature to uncover how average Americans will react. The most common reaction is none and the people confronted afterward all say the same thing, “It was none of our business.”


Well, I believe we are all interconnected so when something I feel unjust happens, it is my business and I have no hesitation taking care of it. Sometimes this backfires or is misguided as it was the sunny afternoon when I saw one man getting a little roughed up by another and decided to step in and ask if the guy needed help. Both men happened to be black and to me that does not make any difference, but on the show it often does. Well, in my instance, one of the men happened to be an undercover cop arresting an alleged criminal. Still, I wasn’t embarrassed and I’d do it again. It was not the first time I’d miscalculated.


I also told some guy off who I overhead berated his elderly mother while walking down the street. What I did not hear and was informed of by the husband, was the same guy telling his Mother that she had to stop getting drunk all the time, that it was killing her and he couldn’t take care of her by himself anymore. That was a bit embarrassing I suppose, but still, you only have one Mother (usually) and telling her to “straighten the fuck up” sounds harsh to me.


There are also times when I’ve gotten it right. I do not let parents rough up their children in front of me. If I see children ganging up on another child I will tell them to stop lest they want to deal with me. Once on the L train coming in from Brooklyn I witnessed a man verbally berate his wife or girlfriend while she cried. My biggest concern at that point was that if I said something he would take it out on her later and more harshly than usual, yet I could not in good conscience let it go. I told him to leave her alone and to try picking on someone who was willing to fight back. He then got in my face, this six foot plus man yelling at me and calling me names while his first victim stood in tears trying to shrink into the corner. No one else on that busy train said a word.


The world is full of people who are only too happy to point out their moral sense of right and wrong and yet it seems when offensive controversial behavior is the target it is suddenly no one’s business. Do not preach your religion or moral code to me if you feel it’s okay to stand idly by while an injustice unfolds directly in front of you. Sometimes doing the right thing means taking a risk or even physically putting yourself in harm’s way, but it does not mean it is no less the right thing. We need less people minding their own business and more people minding what is kind and ethical. How many times have you seen something you felt was unjust happen and wish later you’d have stepped in? Well, I don’t ever want to be that person, so I always step in and sometimes I step in it, but I never, ever regret it.

Day 349: Do it for the Love of Chips and Salsa!

There was a story in the press tonight about the recent resignations of Mexican police in towns threatened by cartels or actually hurt in attacks. Mexico, our direct neighbor to the south, is reverting to the days we know as the Wild West and what are we doing? We are attempting to lock down the border to keep the criminal element out of our country. It is not that easy and we are hiding our heads in the sand if we think we have no obligation to help or at the very least, offer compassion.

Of course, many of you will say that we cannot police the world and that we have our problems to deal with and you will be right. The U.S. is not a humanitarian organization, it is a nation with plenty of struggles on its own soil. Of course this has never stopped us from butting into other places if we felt our own interests were threatened. We can pretty it up however we like, but there is a long history of American intervention when we want or need something and usually we do it under the guise of liberation or humanitarian aide.

It is nearly impossible to extricate our own history and culture from that of Mexico. Our two nations, similar to our close relationship with Canada, enjoy a somewhat symbiotic relationship. Tourism, goods and services, and international friendship have enabled us to enjoy the benefits of Mexico including its beautiful coastline and rich cultural legacy. Let’s also not forget burritos, refritos and guacamole! I would be nothing without these three most important staples to my weekly diet. (Well, I’d be skinnier and maybe less gassy, but also much less satiated.)

So now we have thugs taking over entire towns in Mexico and what is our response? We pass legislation like the vile Arizona law. Mexico isn’t our problem, so let’s just shut them out and turn our backs. Oh wait, Iraq wasn’t our problem either, but we needed to “liberate” them. The Holocaust didn’t seem to bother us either until Japan got us involved and then suddenly we were devastated by the atrocities suffered by the Jews and their friends. I think it is pretty clear we are selfish and never do anything unless it directly benefits us, so maybe that’s what we need to think about with Mexico. I, for one, do not want to lose access to some really great beach resorts, local cuisine and authentic margaritas. Can’t we drum up some legitimate self-preserving reason to want to “protect” Mexico and stop being so un-neighborly?

If you don’t want the current and surely escalating violence of Mexico to spill over into the states, then let’s support our continental roomie. Rather than build a wall to keep “those people” out, let’s work with Mexico to drive the bad element back. We will never be able to adequately secure our borders to the extent that violence or gang/cartel activity will never touch us here so is it not better to take the fight to the source? Our law enforcement will not resign because of hostile actions, they will be supporting by state or national governmental agencies.

We can use this opportunity to help Mexico and to preserve what is good about our own immigrant history. I really do believe that we have a humanitarian obligation to assist, but if that doesn’t fry your chimichanga then commit to the selfish notion that if we don’t help, the next time you’re lounging on a Mexican beach with a cerveza you could be killed by a drug lord with a bad attitude and no law enforcement to keep him in check. I really like beaches and beer so let’s lend a hand, okay?

Day 348: When Did We All Grow Up and Why Didn't I Notice?

It seems to be a cliché, but one that is true nevertheless, that when parents divorce the non-custodial parent often sees the children as forever young. No one ever grows up and the memories of the family remain trapped in a time that once was. My own memories of my extended family are like that to some extent. The happiest times of my childhood revolve around big family celebrations, and my memories of my cousins, aunts and uncles imprison them as ghosts from the past rather than as they now are. I wonder if I hold onto these images from happier times because I do not want to acknowledge the changes we’ve all experienced or if I’m just lazy?

For some of them it’s easy to picture them the same way. Bernie is the eternal optimist and friend to everyone, just as she was when we were all younger. Rachel is still close to her parents and walks to the beat of her own drummer, a trait I am no stranger to myself. Aunts Dee and Cookie are still the caretakers, as alike in their eternal need to nurture as they are opposite in almost every other characteristic. Then there are the family members who look the same to me, despite huge changes. Blindness, an M.D., major lifestyle choices, and geographical distances that keep us from interacting for a decade at a time are the realities regardless of my time-warped memories.

As we get older, life does not actually become more complicated, we just become more aware of the inherent complications of reality. Divorces, births, family feuds, they all happen and yet for me I still see Christmas wish lists written of pieces of paper and thrown into a stocking before each name is drawn in secret and guilty laughter in the basement of the funeral home the day of Grandpa Jim’s memorial. Jimmy may live far enough away that I never see him and Dana, Donna, Bernie, Kim, Dani may all have families of their own and complex lives that I know nothing about, but they are also just teenagers in my mind.

I’ve lost my connection to the family to an extent. The mother is the keeper of family doings, and mine gone as is the link to the family grapevine. Still, it’s more than that. I like remembering them as they once were. I love them because they are family and we grew up knowing one another. Knowing them as adults might inspire similar loyalty and sentiment, but it might also create unwanted distance. No one wants to deal with the fact that I am an atheist any more than I want to deal with the individual family dramas, but that’s not always an option. I like knowing what is happening in their lives and wish I had more communication than I do, but I also don’t want to forget where we all came from.

I doubt we’d all be friends if we were not family, so maybe sometimes it is better to remember our roots and allow our love for one another to trump our sensibilities. We do not need to like one another’s lifestyles, partners, morals, or belief systems to love and respect one another. Having an opportunity to rediscover my family now that we are all adults is teaching me an important lesson about making an effort. It’s not enough to just say you love someone you also need to show an interest in his or her life and get to know that person as they now are. This doesn’t mean I’m going to agree with or like everything, but it does mean that I can love the childhood memory and know the adult reality.

Day 347: Gravity is Sometimes a Very Good Thing

I have a song running through my head that is a melancholy tune about love and loss. For three days I have been singing, humming and listening to this song without a clear sense of why I am so fixated. Today I think I found the answer and it was not what I expected.

The sad love song is a goodbye to a life that I used to live. I have been a mostly unhappy person throughout my adolescence and adult life. Love affairs gone wrong, friendships betrayed, loss of life, and a general sort of ugh factor that seems to follow me about. The last two years have been especially difficult. The husband and I have been through some incredibly trying times. I’ve heard people say that when times are tough it either pulls two people apart or pushes them together. Well, it did both to us and now, finally, I feel that life is as it should be again. We are strong and united and that sad love song in my head? It’s the end of the sad love stories of my life.

This week I said goodbye to an apartment that was never Jeff’s and that never felt like he was a part of it. Moving into this new space that we found and planned for together was a catharsis for all the leftover pain and issues we’d been dragging around for two years. I am a lucky woman. I found a man who understands me, and what’s more, he understands that as long as you have love and a desire to keep working, you have a chance. We saved ourselves through each other and now I get to say goodbye once again to the music of heartbreak and to focus instead, on positive and upbeat.

The feelings I have now are so similar to the ones I had when we first met. I am hopeful and a little foolish. All relationships and marriages have trying times and ours was no worse or better, but what we always manage to maintain is our love for one another. No one is keeping me down and that gravity I feel, is a joyful tumbling into the best phase of my life. We are not always aware when we are lucky or experiencing something that will change our lives in a wonderful way, but this time I am fully aware and I get to experience happiness as it unfolds. So thanks for running through my mind Sara Bareilles, but I don’t need you anymore, I got the message and I think I’ll embrace my gravity.

Day 346: Forgetting Yesterday is Sometimes A Good Thing

Today should actually be day 347, but I abandoned last night’s blog after three choppy and confusing paragraphs on the grounds that I was severely impaired. The specific impairment was alcohol induced and by the time I got to the blog I could barely type, though I after a quick reread this morning it turns out that I corrected all of my spelling and grammatical mistakes. What could not be fixed, however, was the content. Funny how something that seems so important to us when we are under the influence can actually be the most pointless of arguments.

We lost our car last night for the second time in six weeks. It was also the second time in the same time frame that we got drunk. We are not big drinkers or partyers generally, so even twice in six weeks is considered frequent for us these days. Perhaps this is why, when we do imbibe, we are unable to do so without major mishap. Looking back on it I’d say it was a comedy of errors as only the Bramlines can do it, but at the time it seemed dire.

Jeff was mad at me and I was mad at him – though I do not recall being cross with him, that intel comes from him and what I tried to write last night. We lost my phone, our keys, the security fob to get into our apartment, and yes, we once again lost our car. I don’t exactly know what our problem is, but it’s like we’re reliving our 20’s only as a couple. Who, at 37, gets so drunk you lose you car . . . twice?

Since going vegan, I have mostly lost my urge to drink beyond one glass of wine or a bit of scotch, but when I do drink it’s to an excess that clearly leads to poor decision making. Last night’s attempt at a blog was some sort of rant at the husband, because I am a truly horrible drunk who feels it appropriate to pick fights with pretty much everyone. I am going to skip last night and save myself an irritated husband. Oddly enough, I don’t remember being annoyed or mad at him (despite it being his fault we lost the car). I remember loving him and wanting to snuggle, then again I also remember thinking it was a good idea to tell some random guy on the street that he had Bozo hair. My judgment when I am sober is often questionable, while intoxicated it is on par with a K-Fed era Britney Spears. I’m a drunken idiot y’all! Ugh.