Actually, my anxiety dreams have grown up with me. When I was a little kid, like 8 or so, I used to dream about going to school naked. I went through puberty, spent a lot of time in locker rooms primarily for basketball and fencing, started dating, and as a result of observation and very rarely getting turned down by boys, I learned that for all my supposed freakishness (and all the awful teasing from girls), I'm actually pretty hot. So, those dreams went away. But far from being free from anxiety, I then dreamt about walking into class, sitting down in the front row, and knowing nothing about whatever the professor is professing. The second semester of my freshman year in undergrad, I accidentally walked into the wrong chemistry lecture, realized it was organic chem - not general chemistry - and slunk out with my heart pounding from a mixture of abject terror and relief. Once I got over that, I've dreamt about having to get up in front of a room full of people, feeling perfectly confident, and then realizing I know NOTHING about the subject about which I am supposed to speak. Well, just got done with that. Two 2-hour sessions a week for a semester is a very effective shock therapy.
I wonder, with what maladjusted phobic scheme will my brain ambush me next?
Anyway, after knocking another thing that scares me off the list of Things That Scare Me, I was totally primed for vacation. Two amazing Chanukah celebrations later, I am fat and happy. Actually, I'm not really fat even though I feel that way from a surfeit of really good food. Because Chanukah is a celebration of a miracle of oil (oil for a menorah lasted 8 days even though there was technically only enough for 1 day), fried food is the order of the day(s). Our celebration included sufganiyot (no idea how to spell that, but it's pronounced soof-gah-nee-yoht'... not a short "o" in the last syllable) which are jelly-filled doughnuts. I used a syringe to inject Polaner's All-Fruit raspberry preserves into the doughnuts my mom made. I know there's probably a less labor intensive way to do it, but I don't know about it... We also did potato latkes (potatoes, onions, egg, flour, water if needed) with apple sauce and sour cream, and my dad made falafel with all the fixings to round out the fried thing.
That's why I feel fat and happy, instead of just happy. But the funny thing is I managed to put on a pair of skinny jeans for a New Year's Eve party I pretty much despaired of ever fitting into. Something stayed my hand when I went through my closet recently. They were too nice; the denim is a deep saturated blue, they don't cling all the way down my calves, they're long enough, and they fit inside boots I own ever so perfectly. I couldn't toss them. When I realized I could slide myself into them, I paired them with a super sequined top that was possibly supposed to be a tunic on a shorter person under a black velvet blazer (after the leaping around with joy finished). I resembled the Times Square ball; just imagine it in a blazer with reddish hair. And of course, shoes. Mine look something like this, only black and a different brand which I've forgotten. That just goes to show you, sometimes even when you feel like a greasy blob, it really is just in your head. Hah.
But actually, between Chanukah and New Year's, I did something other than eat. While I was in New York, I introduced Danny to my best friend from high school who is the one person I've known since I was 15 with whom I can carry on a serious conversation and still joke about poop and farts. Knowing anyone over the course of your most formative years when everyone changes so much and still liking them and having them like you back is pretty huge. He's in law school now, as brilliant and goofy as ever, after finishing a master's in Slavic Studies at Columbia U. and writing a book, and translating things, quitting smoking for the bazillionth time, and generally boggling my mind with all the stuff he does. The three of us went out in a particularly deserted part of town, in bars with animal heads mounted on the walls, talking, laughing, and drinking beer. It was a tremendous relief when it turned out he and Danny got along. I didn't expect a table-flipping brawl, and it wasn't something I'd really been dreading, but, well, you know...
So, there was that, some museum hopping, and TONS of sleeping. Currently, I have a cold. It's not bad, just a nuisance that's keeping me from doing things I want to do. Danny made some amazing chicken soup, which combined with naps, tea, and cold-eeze is keeping me more healthy than sick. Hopefully this trend will continue. I want to take a shower, but I straightened my hair yesterday (which was a TON of work) and lack a showercap. Drat. I might sacrifice my hard work in the name of not being smelly anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment