a message from parma

No not Parma Ohio, Parma Italia stupid.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

life, before and after

So here I am still temping at the big anonymous investment bank a.k.a "the firm." Recently, I have been in better spirits as I am no longer working for the angry douche bag I was sentenced to for over 5.5 months. Daily, I dealt with his short temper, ego maniacal rants and other people avoiding him while I suffered in silence. I noticed that everyone I worked with felt my pain but ironically, he liked me and it worked at least for a while. I eventually stopped taking his bullshit and soon realized that shorty angry rich men usually get what they want at any cost. Working with him made me hate the corporate world even more.
But upon accepting other assignments within "the firm" I noticed that his demeanor was unusual. Everyone else including the janitors act much nicer. I have been assigned to at least five other sections of "TF" and been having a great time!

To be honest folks, I really do miss the craziness of the high tech world--(people who bring their pets to the office, work in their pajamas, live off of Mountain Dew and cheetos)--all of it. It was not a utopia but nobody took themselves too seriously and did what needed to get done while having a blast. We always managed to have a good time despite nightmare clients, impossible work load, or crazy leaders. At the moment, I keep interviewing for that dream web producer job thinking six months in the corporate banking world will make me more grown up and ready to get back to that great paying job I used to have but alas I have been at over 8 interviews and nothing yet. I even have had several second interviews and reference checks. I am not panicking but guess what--my time is running out as I will shortly give away my pending secret of being pregnant! Oh the horror. Yup, here I am 38 years old and knocked up.

No I have not been obsessing about my biological time clock ticking away, and I have not been reading up either on the Internet or at amazon.com on how to get pregnant over 35. It was not a romantic evening with a turkey baster and some frozen sperm either. It was plain old divine intervention. An illness and lack of attention got me a bun in the oven. My significant other, Z is also participating in this sinful endeavor. I guess opposites really do attract even under the worst of circumstances. Unfortunately, Z will remain anonymous on this site as his comprehension of the whole blog thing is minimal. He claims he wants no part of it but ha! He was forewarned that being in a relationship with a writer does have its consequences. As I have stated earlier, this is a tell all weblog. For those of you who know me, you will get the idea without me naming names. For those of you who don't, too bad.

I have no regrets, I will admit its bad timing, but when is it ever good timing. (when you are desperate at 45 shooting yourself with hormones, peeing every three hours to determine how you are ovulating?) I feel a lot better now than the state I was in three years ago after the big event. Basically I am ready for anything. So far, my pregnancy has been fine, nothing unusual. I am not in denial but I have not started wearing ugly maternity clothes and buying baby crap. I do have a name but I will not divulge that at this time.

Z seems to be happy, he has better maternal instincts than me. The irony is he is a tough, street raised Brooklyn rican, reared by the heavy hand of his mother. He is more intune with his inner Martha Stewart than I am. Here is a man eager to solve any problem with a swing of a baseball bat yet can mop floors, cook a three courses meal, do laundry and hang curtains at the same time. He is quite charming as I finally succumbed to his flirtation after 3 months of him chasing me. ...more about our crazy romance later....

As you can see there is so much to talk about, its a good thing I have this weblog. Give me some time, eventually I will mention those of you who know me as I discover the beauty and fun of blogging.


Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Let the games begin....

In the past couple of years I have either grown wiser or slower with age because I now stop to process the crap in my life a bit easier and with slightly more confidence than five years ago.

This weblog is a result of me stewing for over four years and having a need to talk stuff out so I can understand the world and myself better. Better than what?

Hopefully better than before. You see, I am one of those New York City casualties that no one really talks about. I have not jumped onto the subway tracks or off a bridge, or even stuck my head in an oven because I survived the horror of September 11. I am just one of those people who suffered severely for a while, woke up out of the nightmare and began to move on with everything. I walk around the city just like everyone else, with a vacant look as if nothing happened.

Yet, with doses of Prozac and hours of therapy and moments in meditation relying on the unknown I have been left with no choice but to move on. I have joined the masses and get up every day, get dressed, and go to work with a tepid smile on mia faccia.

Every morning I buy my coffee and the Post and read the every day horrors of life in the big city. I look at people in the subway, in line at Dunkin Donuts, at work ordering lunch and think (how do they do it? they act like nothing ever happened almost four years ago. Has everyone just stored it in a place rarely accessed?

Some I know are so glued to their lifestyle that they cling to their idea of normalcy at any cost. I keep asking myself don’t they know, don’t they feel it? The world is a different place; this city is a different place. It could all go within minutes so be mindful of your actions, and empathetic in your thoughts. That’s the basic gist of my newfound wisdom.

Quiet please, performance starting…


Let me set the scene, I live in Brooklyn in a neighborhood that is experiencing the hell of gentrification. Here is where you will find:

Scenario A: Cheap rents bring struggling white professionals without children needing shelter and close access to Manhattan. They keep their used cars registered out of state to avoid high insurance but suffer the zealot parking ticket police whoring themselves for the city so they actually don’t save any money with out of state insurance because the least expensive ticket is $115 and if you collect at least two of them you get towed and must pay $250 in cash to get your car back.

Scenario B: Ethnic professionals yearn for the romance of their parents struggle and find refuge in a neighborhood where English is one of several languages spoken not including Newyurican. They can easily procure grandma’s cannoli or arroz con pollo. The cheap rents keep homeownership a slight possibility upon or before retirement.

Scenario C: The lazy fucks living off the broken system that turns generations into addicted, violent, toxic people. Who barely pay enough rent for the landlord to change a light bulb let alone a toilet or heating system. They steal from their hardworking white neighbors and upon needing their next fix often resort to a 3 am mugging knowing their victim will never call the police.

Scenario D: The younger generations of poor struggling immigrants who reap the benefits of their parents’ sweat equity but in the end become greedy thieves who need to support their addiction. They end up spending all of their parents’ money and investments only to have someone else own the family property.

These are the people in my neighborhood. So when I get to specifics about where I live and whom I karmically brush up against you have even a slight idea of where I am coming from.

As I have always since my early years of a Montessori-type education I have collected numerous people in my life. Aside from family who you don’t choose to have in your life, but are assigned to, I have enabled an array of characters in my life but I will choose to only mention those with current significance.

I will be telling all, without restraint, and with the utmost decency the Internet allows. I won’t name actual names but those of you who know me will know what I am talking about. Comments are always welcome.

Personal background:
Born and raised in Boston. More specifically the suburbs of Boston and Cambridge MA, Fled the coop at 18 and went to school in New York during the 80’s, enjoyed the Internet boom in the 90’s and living with the hangover from that hangover and the trauma of 9/11.

I started my adulthood as a photographer and film student as my degrees will tell you. But somehow through luck and timing I end up in the IT world for almost 10 years. Currently, I am still not working as a web producer, I am temping in the corporate world and being the good little whore that we all eventually become once we participate in the drudgery of capitalist freedom.

My life has been adventure, would make a great movie, is a roller coaster ride etc etc etc. I started keeping journals when I spent the summer in Providence RI at RISD. My art history assignment was to write down our thoughts about art. I guess that opened Pandora’s box and I started photographing glimpses of my reality while at the same time trying to understand the world through a frustrated, angry, depressed fifteen year old mind.

To my parent’s horror, I did the travel to Europe, stay in school to write about film and photography, surround myself with crazy creative people and hope that everything goes my way and wait for whatever the gods had planned for me.

I did redeem myself by being in the right place at the right time and dove into the sea of the Internet. I rose through the ranks and started to make a decent living playing as hard as I worked. Six years at NYU, time off in Italy, and tons of Internet money makes a great combination of life choices.

So here my dear friends, family, acquaintances, strangers and freaks is they way it is. As I have already mentioned, for the past six months over a year after my most recent breakdown I have moved in and out of the toughest acting role of my life, a freelancer and temp.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

what's with that?

Well here I go again, another start that will hopefully not be a false one. I hope to fill the gap that is evident on my personal website www.parmaproductions.com.

I love weblogs and I read all sorts of them. I hope to be as entertaining as the ones I read often. I stumble across a few that seem to be restricted. Meaning the company I am temping at won't allow its content on their computers.