The SMD: Bump in the Night Right Back

How steadfastly enamored she is, of that which scares the bejeezus out of her. It's almost like Logan has to push her imagination in a terrifying direction so she's thankful for the commonplace conflict she most frequently is up against (me). At the tender age of five, she insists upon the adrenaline rush most clamor to avoid.

We bought Coraline the other day, at her insistence she really wanted it/had to have it, it was her one treat of the outing. We'd watched it together before, she was slightly worse for the ware, but her whole kick is to rise against the challenge, so I indulged her. If I could handle James and the Giant Peach and Nightmare Before Christmas, then she's cool too, I figure. Side note: What exactly happened to Tim Burton in his formative years that has inspired such creepy-creepshow ramifications? He and Stephen King should get together and create an original work of biblical proportions and put the torture porn horror genre of today out of its misery. Pun intended.

Anyways, dread time (or bedtime to the layperson) becomes literal for her after the creepy movie du jour (which is true of most people). A tenth drink of water, another installment of Wubbzy, a categorical list of what's in the bathroom cupboards. Anything to keep her from the lights going out, and the shadows befalling. Still, she HAS to see it. Like, mad-at-me-for-days-if-I-deny-her, has to. Jumanji is the only other movie that twisted her up as bad (the notion that animals are out to destroy you is disquieting for anyone, let alone a kid that normally sees nothing but cuddly happy versions), but I'll be damned if she will stop the show and find something less frightening.

Fear is a powerful motivator, an equally powerful entertainer due to that fact. Hardwired to be "afraid" for survival reasons, and I suspect also, that if we ourselves are capable of so much-for lack of a better term-evil, then we can only expect it from elsewhere. Especially the dark.

No matter the rationale behind it, it's bizarre to watch her want to watch them. At first signs of anxious and wide-eyed, as a mom I want to protect and distract, but she's hell bent on seeing it through. A crucial part of growth is to face what you fear head-on and know you can overcome, and many of the "scary" movies geared toward kids do send that message, at least. Coraline doesn't take the malicious misfortune lying down, she rallies and rails against the Other Mother and her spindly manipulation. Perhaps Logan knows that she'd do the same, and a vivid demonstration is comforting. That's why I'll always press play.

It's supposedly easier to manage our fears as the grown-ups, they tend to get more social/interpersonal. You don't fret about a giant spider woman stalking you down (which might be an oversight that's scary shit) half as much as you do about getting rejected in front of your peers, dying sad and alone, or losing your job. Does that make us less or more enlightened than the youngens?

If nothing else, I've instilled that it's only a movie and it can't hurt her. Just pretends. The light switch is a few feet away, the strength shown to antagonistic characters always helps to shove them back into their respective caves/castles/swamps etc. If only us grown-ups could talk ourselves down as easily, what a safe world it really would be.

Bi-Coastal

I had my initial bite into that Big chaotic Apple I've so vividly fantasized about, and I am still reveling in what I tasted. It feels like cheating on my beloved California, that's how much I dig it. The comparisons between the two don't jive though. NYC is a crisp, fresh, bittersweet, larger- than-life apple, and California is a thick, laid back, grandiose, cantaloupe. Both are uniquely juicy. Duality was seamlessly sliced this past week.

I'm primarily melon (both in breast size and overall texture of life if you catch my breeze which is why I live where I do), so I was surprisingly surprised that from the first glimpse of dusky skyline (bringing tears to my eyes even through the tiny vantage of an airplane window), my East Coast inclination inklings were confirmed. I stepped onto the filthy sidewalk, hailed my first cab and strapped in for an amazing joyous experience. I'm still knackered and sated from it all.

New York feels like a constant, daily parade. People briskly bobbing along from place to place-decadent, determined, deranged or usually all three-secure in the knowledge that no matter how outlandish, common place or middle of the road they come across, others around them are themselves busy being them, and could care less, really. An informal celebration of ambitious, sophisticated diversity with no bullshit in between. No time for it.

Having said that, it's a constant flow of sensory delight, impossible to be ignored. The smell of street vendors/restaurants presenting their wares, humid air and people as they pin ball against one another, the occasional sewer/bodily fluid smell slapping vengefully, inspiring gratitude that you're obligated to walk so swiftly onward. The sounds of taxis and the other brave souls sharing their road, honking in an adamant unintelligible language. The sight of famous, glamorous landmarks stretching to life in historic graceful grime, the bright blue or maudlin gray sky setting tone to each days drama. The notion that it could all go horribly wrong but rarely does, is exhilarating.

What a clusterfuck of humanity insanity, tending to make perfect sense if you choose to notice.

In the same way California sprang to life before my eyes and sank deep into my soul many years ago, New York triggered forth elements of quality I didn't realize were lacking. My family (nine of us total) covered a lot of ground. What we saw was awesome, (AWESOME!) and I won't forget how I changed as I saw it. I could regurgitate it all, but go see for yourself, then we'll trade notes.

NYU grad, fantastic brother and reason for the season was at the helm. Being local he gave insider terminology, insight and definition to it all. His friends/acquaintances/comrades all share a similar genuine intrigue and intelligence, and he fits like a glove among them. Perhaps that's what made it so comfortable, so visceral.

Perhaps it is the fact that thriving there is thriving with a capital T and we felt a part of it. Every day you wake up, set forth to accomplish and actually do, it's sheer self-empowerment. On foot, on your own. Living fast, free and expensively. Living for yourself, although ironically, New Yorkers are the least selfish I've encountered if you are in need. They know what it's like to walk the paces. That is one of the true similarities both coasts share, actually. New York is just quicker to the punch by necessity.

I amassed a hundred anecdotes/inside jokes, a few hundred pictures and a few thousand subtle souvenirs, most of which are spiritual. The most profound is that I have a new mecca of connectedness. I can't say I plan to leave Cali or that New York has replaced it, rather, it slid in tightly astride as so much of the city itself.

Like the yin and yang, both coasts will reside inside. Can't have one without the other.

Precipice

Checking items of the ol' master list, cleansing breaths, dutifully compartmentalizing, and above all, trying not to spawn a counter productive headache with all of the above. Setting out on a voyage of any kind can be as stressful as moving minus the actual permanent relocation. The attention to detail is just as important. Slighting your necessities slightly and you could be boned for days, weeks, months even. Then hopefully amidst it all, you remember why you're doing it all, and that sharp thrill of anticipatory excitement surges through your midsection, a smile brightening your furrowed face. And again, you're ready to do what's gotta be done. I'm headed to New York for the first time on Saturday, at long last.


Ironically, people have asked if I'm from NYC off and on since I've lived in California. I'm not sure what they are basing it off of (no bullshit take of life, kindness to those in peril?), but I'm very excited to put two and two together. It's more than that though...my amazing, beautiful, younger brother is graduating from NYU with Honors, and I am so very proud of him. He himself is on the crest of a voyage into "adulthood" (which he'll find isn't really a hood, more like a mock turtleneck), and I can't imagine a better send off than having a gathering of loved ones from various locations around the U S of A. Full circle and all that.



Maybe that 's where half the anxiety comes from. I know it will be a momentous occasion, so I better get my shit straight. I can't be casual when so much is at stake. If I'd chillax a little, and think of it as the adventure it will undoubtedly be, an awakening to new culture, climate and life experience, the odds and ends would fall into place with less flustering. I'm working on it.


Regardless, just being there to witness one of my favorite people getting acknowledged for his excellence-it can't happen enough-will be worth all the bothersome befuddlement. Cheers to you, Cooper. Your life is a tribute to how unique and deserving you really are. You worked your ass off, and I love you all the more for it. Tear grown-upness a new one, or rather continue to do so. I can't wait to stand at the edge of the next big event with you. I won't stress about the depth of the deep, just the awesomeness of our leaps.