moon

you close the door. it is dark and cold outside. the moon is huge, it is right above your street, so white, so large, so enigmatic. you feel like the moon is talking to you. you make a wish. you don’t even need to think of it, there is always just this one wish you have. you ask the moon to make your wish come true.

friends

you call me on the telephone. you start a little polite small talk. you ask me questions about my life before you ask me to help you with your homework. i call you on the telephone. i start a little polite small talk. i offer you my help with your homework before i ask you questions about your life.

box

i am knocking on the glass wall of my box. i am waving at you. i am screaming at you. you turned your back to me. i want you to look at me. i want you to listen to me. i want you to pay attention to me. i knock. i wave. i scream. the track comes, it picks me up in my glass box. it drives me for a while. it lets go of my box.

merged

your world used to be so perfectly divided. there was your current life with your family, your work projects, a few social pals, a nightly tv hour. there was your young life with boys and girls - soon to be senior citizens - who you used to call your friends. there were the one night stands, the unanswered loves, the cigarettes, the clubs, the books, the shots. you used to feel so at ease sharing events of your college life with people at work. you used to feel so relieved being able to tell the truth about your high schools relationships to a friend you met in your 30s. you used to feel so entertained making up stories of your romantic encounters for anyone who listened. you felt so secure separated from that life by years and continents. it was so until the social networking sites came in and merged it all together, bringing chaos into your daily life. suddenly, all these one night encounters materialize into faces for your significant other. suddenly, your late 30s friend befriends a friend of your early 20s. suddenly, you are not sure what you are going to see on your screen each evening. suddenly, you are having a panic attack every time you turn your computer on.
did you really think it through before you opened that facebook account?

exhibit

i open a glass jar. i remove all the stale particles that have been sitting in there for ages. i clean the jar with soap and water until the glass is crystal clear. i climb into the jar. i close the lid. look at me, point at me – i am an exhibit, i am unique.

discontinued

fuck. finally, few months back i found a replacement for my old lipstick that has been discontinued for quite some time. i used to order it from who knows where until it disappeared from the market forever. so, after a long search, i found another one that i loved. and, of course, i go to get the new one, only to find out that sephora has discontinued the brand. i can still buy it, but not at sephora. well, let me tell you, it will not be too long before the brand is dead, when sephora decides they are not making revenue on it. there is a pattern in my life – my beloved facial mask – discontinued, my favorite toothpaste – terminated, so are numerous mascaras, foundations, and various other cosmetic items. don’t get me started on the food. why do my favorite yogurts always have to go? i feel, every product i try and don’t like ends up on the shelves for years in full glory, and everything i like gets kicked out as soon as i feel comfortable with my new product. i obviously don’t have a taste for anything that can hold on the market. well, at least my new lipstick is coming, just extra $6 for shipping, it will be here soon.

regina spektor

the members of the orchestra have left the stage. the performing girl stopped playing her piano. she stopped playing her synthesizer. she stopped playing her guitar. she stopped playing piano with her left hand while hitting a chair with a drumstick with her right hand. she is just standing in the middle of the stage at the radio city, and singing. no musical instruments anymore, voice only. she sounds so much better in concert. this shy audience appreciative nicely weird girl somehow transformed this large commercial venue into something else – just a large dark room filled with a beautiful voice, and with happy people. it was a great concert. i was very impressed.

guilty?

how embarrassing do you find things that touch you, the things that make you sad, the things that occupy your mind? does a seasonal fever of your child concerns you more than a death of your friend’s husband? do you find yourself thinking more about a boy or a girl you like than about your parents’ unemployment? do you think more about a party you are going to throw than about your sibling’s coming graduation day? does a divorce story of a person you barely know touches your heart more than a risky surgery of your relative? do you spend a restless night worrying about your own not-so-hot test results or about the deadly diagnosis of your best friend? do you feel guilty? do you feel like a bad person – an uncaring relative, a selfish friend? do you feel self-centered? do you feel ignorant? can you change your thoughts? can you change your concerns? can you force yourself worry about what you think you should worry about? can you dictate your heart what to be moved by? do you feel comfortable with your thoughts and concerns?

showers

there are these special rituals in america called showers. there are two types of them – a bridal shower, and a baby shower. the concept of these rituals is such – everyone get gifts for a celebrated female, and place them in bags accompanied by cards. then the honorable bride or mother to be is required to open the presents in front of all attending invitees. she opens a first bag, reads a card to herself, thanks the appropriate gift-giving person, then proceeds opening the actual present. in the meantime, all the other respected females are there to judge the item purchaser by the selection she happened to make. then the next bag gets to be opened. repeat. you are considered a weirdo if you try sabotaging the ritual by asking of having your gift not to be opened publicly. whatever your reasons are – you are pretty much defeating the purpose of the gathering by this request. i was wondering if it is possible to alter the order of events without damaging your image too much. can you switch the card and the gift order and purpose? can you write a card suited for public read-aloud, and ask to have your gift to be opened privately instead? have you ever tried?

elephant poop

an elephant turned 180 degrees, he’s behind facing us. he performed a little dance, it was cute. then the enormous pieces of poop started dropping. one, the next, another one.. we are sitting in the circus watching the elephant poop. we are overwhelmed. the children go home and start playing elephant potty training games. i go home, and mention elephant poop in work emails. every day should be an elephant pooping day.

knot

your head feels heavy. the thoughts from today and from yesterday and from the day before and from the week ago and from the year ago all came together and made a tight knot in your brain. you can’t process the thoughts. you can’t think them. you just feel their heaviness, their pressure. you feel the alcohol presence around them. it was supposed to make them feel lighter but it did not. it just made you feel confused. you move the knot of thoughts to the back of your head to let the normal processes function, to let the things flow. you wake up late at night, and you feel the presence of the knot. it moved forward. it wants you to acknowledge it, it needs you to process it, it demands you to accept it. you fix your pillow. you pull up your blanket. you move from your right side to your left. you go back to sleep.

layers

you take a layer off. you do a circle, you send a few smiles. you give a few looks. another layer - off. another circle, more smiles, more looks, more faces, more eyes. layers, layers, more layers. endless layers to take off. is there anything else?

stalker

i am sorry. i have no purpose here. i have no advice. i have no right. we are not even close. i am not even your friend. i can’t get you off my mind. i don’t know why, i don’t know how. it just happened. i feel your fears, i feel your pain, i feel your helplessness. i feel your hope. i feel your happiness at the idea this hope brings. it only goes one way. i can’t send anything back. i can’t send my thoughts, i can’t send my optimism, i can’t send my confidence. i can’t send back this deep feeling of connection i have with you. still, it does not matter. this is not about it. this is not about me. this is not about my uselessness, my feebleness. this is about you. and you will be fine.

sci-fi

a rhinoceros, a giraffe, and a bear are sitting around a giant cactus discussing their breakfast plans. a spaceship flies by with great speed and lands in the fields. the aliens come out. the rhinoceros, the giraffe, and the bear put on camouflage, and sneak to the fields to spy on the spaceship. the war begins.

i feel every sci-fi show my husband watches is just like this.

rickshaw

chinese looking dude is our rickshaw driver. he says he is from kazakhstan, now residing in brooklyn. he will park his vehicle in manhattan before he goes home. he is still working. he does not get that many passengers, he is not spoiled, he wants to impress us. we are way too drunk in order to truly appreciate his efforts. i need to start watching my drinking, it seems. but the air breeze is nice. happily giggly feeling is nice. riding this human-operated transportation in the middle of manhattan late at night is nice. laughing and waving to city tourists is nice. summer is nice. having a friend who is as drunk, smart, witty, and clever as you are is very nice.

rules for crazy mothers

i hear a sound of a mosquito. i know there are must be few of them in our bedroom. i can’t turn the lights on and look for them because there is a baby asleep in our room. the baby is wearing a pajama, but the face is open and vulnerable. the thought of a mosquito biting my sleeping baby is unbearable. i remove my cover sheet. i lay there close to naked thinking there is a larger unprotected square footage on my body than on my baby’s body, therefore a higher chance of a mosquito landing on me. my husband tells me i am insane, and sprays himself with a bug spray.

here is a top 10 rules any crazy woman should establish upon having a child come to an existence:

10. everyone arriving to your house must wear slippers (provided by you), and wash their hands upon entering your living headquarters

9. everyone must sanitize their hands with one of strategically placed variety of hand sanitizers before touching or picking up your baby

8. you must change your child before feeding him despite loosing your mind from the sound of the hungry baby, because the child should not be wet while eating, and because you should not position your baby horizontally for quite sometime after feeding and burping

7. you need to take your baby for a walk every day at least once in between the feedings regardless of the weather or your energy level

6. you must exclusively breastfeed your baby every three hours alternating the breasts with each feeding because that is required for your milk production

5. you must not co-sleep with your baby even if that is the only way to keep her quiet because then you’d be stuck with a toddler in your bed later on

4. there should be no talking while you're breastfeeding because it distracts your baby from eating

3. you must burp your baby for 10 minutes after feedings

2. you have to reverse your stroller and drive it backwards ignoring strange looks by fellow pedestrians each time you get direct sunshine into the stroller that the canopy does not block

1. you need to make key copies for your close family members so they can walk in without disturbing you and your baby in case you are napping/feeding/changing

today

you are saying, you are going to take a different train. you are saying it is faster for you to get home this way. i sense, you don’t want to hang out with me. i sense, you don’t want to make friends with me. i sense, i annoy you. i sense, i bother you. i am overly talkative, i am overly loud, i am overly irritating.. i am overly sensitive. i am overly insecure. i am overly doubtful.. i am going to step aside. i will not attempt to hang out with you. i will not attempt to make friends with you. until today. today is a different day. today, i don’t care what train you want to take. today, i don’t care that i am that irritating, talkative, or loud. today, i don’t feel sensitive. today, i don’t feel insecure. today, i don’t feel doubtful. today, i will attempt to hang out with you. today, i will attempt to make friends with you. maybe for you or maybe for me.

rain

you are walking home in the pouring rain. your new black $4 chinese umbrella is half-way broken from the wind. your new black $300 italian stilettos are ruined. all you want is to get home, take all the wet clothes off, put on your pajamas, get a nice cup of hot chocolate, wrap yourself in a blanket, sit on a cozy big chair by the window, turn the lights off, and quietly relax there watching the rain from the inside. that’s all you want walking through giant puddles, damaging your shoes more and more, holding your broken umbrella against the wind. you get to your house, you open your door, you take off your clothes, you put on your pajamas, you turn on your laptop, you turn on your tv, you microwave your weight-watchers, you sit down on your couch, you start typing.

birthing

i attend birth classes. i have a birth plan. i have a pillow packed in my suitcase. i have a robe packed in my suitcase. i have multiple juice cartons packed in my suitcase. my suitcase is ready to go.

i am starting working from home. i sit down, i connect. i am ready to run my script. something does not feel right. my water breaks right there. oh shit. first, i get some paper towels in attempt to clean up the mess. the water keeps pouring. second, i pick up my phone and call my husband at work. i ask him to call me a car service, and communicate to them that the driver needs to come inside, and get my suitcase out. third, i send an instant message to my coworker telling him i can’t help his client today.

now i need to concentrate. i need to figure out how i can transport myself having nonstop pouring water. the doorbell rings. i press the button to open the front door. nobody comes in. i wait. i call the car service, i ask them to call the driver, and ask him to come inside. finally the confused driver shows up. i tell him, we are going to the hospital. i tell him, i have babies to deliver. i am walking with a towel between my legs.

we get to the car. my main concern is not to get the water on the seat. we start driving. it feels kind of hot. this is a middle of the summer. this is the hottest week so far. i ask the driver to make the air cooler. his conditioner is maxed out. he says it does not work that great. ok, change of plans. i will not be able to spend an hour in this car in my condition. we need to go back to the car service location and change cars. we get there. i sense that the driver is kind of relieved that he will not be the one driving the insane pregnant water dripping woman to the manhattan hospital.

i introduce myself to the next driver. we test the air in his car. it is a little better. i tell the driver we need to get to the hospital as fast as we can. i ask the driver to take the battery tunnel instead of the bridge. the driver suggests taking the bridge because it is free, and there should not be a big traffic at this hour. i reiterate to the driver that my water broke, and we are in a rush to get to the hospital. i reiterate to the driver that paying the toll is not an issue. the driver does not seem to agree, but takes the tunnel nevertheless. the driver keeps talking about how taking the bridge would have been a better choice.

we get to the hospital, my husband gets to the hospital. we proceed upstairs to deliver babies.

mug of love

it began as a regular unremarkable typical gloomy day. i was walking as usual, carrying my giant mug - the mug of love. all my love for you. and then i tripped. and all the love spilled out of the mug. and it was love everywhere. and all these people came out of nowhere with their little cups, and they started helping me to collect my lost love. and they gave me their little cups, full of love, and they left. and i did not know what to do. and i did not know how to feel.