“The Twelve Months of 2006”
A Retrospective on the Year After the Worst Year of My Life

Part One - January

I decided to visit my brother for a couple of days before I came back to finish packing up my apartment. As much as I hated car ownership, I must admit that being able to get to San Francisco with little advance planning and a tank of gas was a treat. I simply put some clothes in a bag, filled up the tank, bought snacks and left.

There are two groups of hills one has to pass through on Interstate 5 before entering the Central Valley. After the first set you enter the valley everyone knows about. Then you drive another 45 minutes or so and through some other hills and then you go down a long mountain. At this point you have a pretty straight flat drive to San Francisco. None of this is remarkable accept that as I drove down the second set of mountains I immediately felt lighter. Despite my year in LA, I’m not generally prone to depression and therefore don’t really think about the physical toll it takes on one’s body. I knew my hair was falling out and my stomach hurt almost daily. But I didn’t know that just driving away from the source would quite literally lift my spirits. I still remember vividly taking a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in a very long time.

Once I got there my brother asked how long I was staying. I replied that I would stay a couple of days. I’d go back Monday.

“Why?”

It then dawned on me that I could stay as long as I wanted. As long as I was back to finish packing I could hang out with my brother indefinitely. And so I did.

There were many aspects of my old life that I took for granted. Things I missed terribly when I lived in LA. One such thing was walking. I am a devout pedestrian. And like any profoundly pious follower of that life I hated driving. The beauty of San Francisco is that it’s one of the few places west of the Mississippi where you don’t have to. So I walked and I walked and I walked. I went to the beach (yes, it was cold), to the museum, to bars, to Neiman Marcus (I’m still me), all on foot. I think I really missed being connected to people in the way you can be without the armor of a car and wide roads.

I missed urbanity.

During that time I really reconnected with my brother. We foolishly had spent most of my time in LA being angry with each other over nothing so we didn’t visit hang out with each other until the fall. So it was in January that we began making up for some serious lost time.

It never ceases to amaze me or anyone who hangs out with both of us just how similar we are. It’s so nice to not have to explain why you want to have brunch at the Neiman Marcus Rotunda, or the importance of architecture and city planning, or what’s so great about looking at things you can’t afford. For two people who thought we were incredibly different, we’ve turned out to be eerily alike. So basically we spent the entire month going from fancy bar to fancy store to fancy museum. It was the way life was meant to be.

I also spent a bit of time reflecting. Since my leaving Los Angeles was soon to be for good, I used up an afternoon at a Union Square café making a top 10 list of things I would miss about LA:

10. The Los Angeles Times
I may have been one of the few LA residents who actually read the newspaper, so I may be the only person qualified to discuss its attributes. I’ve actually read the Los Angeles Times for some time now. One of my assignments at my first job out of college was to comb various newspapers all over the country for articles about civil rights issues, so basically I was paid to read the newspaper for a couple of hours each day (not a bad gig). In doing so I became familiar with the reporting at different newspapers throughout the US and abroad. I was always pleasantly surprised with the quality of the articles I read in the Los Angeles Times. As an East Coaster, you can easily come to think there are really only two or three papers and while the quality of reporting at the New York Times, the Washington Post and occasionally the Chicago Tribune is unmatched anywhere else in the US, I wasn’t disappointed by the coverage in the Los Angeles Times. I even had a friend who felt that the Los Angeles Times was the only paper poised to challenge to the venerable New York Times on the national newspaper stage. The main problem is readership. Too bad people in LA would rather read US Weekly. They’re missing out…

9. The Getty Museum’s Friday Nights
The first Friday night of every month (not sure about winter months) The Getty Museum stays open late, sets up a bar and hosts live music. If you’re not familiar with The Getty Museum, it is an architecturally beautiful building with amazing views, what some call a mediocre art collection, and an overly enthusiastic acquisitions department. To get to it one must sit in traffic (this is the first step to getting anywhere in LA), park your car in the cavernous garage (this is the second step to getting anywhere in LA), and ride a tram to the top of a mountain in Brentwood. The views are stunning and on Friday nights you can watch the sun set while listening to live jazz and drinking a glass of wine with friends. I took my mom when she came to visit and it went over well.

8. Zen Nail Spa
This was my favorite nail salon when I was in LA. Once a month I traveled to Robertson between Wilshire and Olympic to treat myself. For $26 you get a spa mani/pedi with hot oil treatment while sitting in a leather electric massage chair. It’s certainly not the cheapest mani/pedi in LA, but it’s the cheapest mani/pedi in a massage chair in Beverly Hills with a hot oil treatment, and therefore was my favorite.

7. The beach
I will say that the terrain and the weather in LA are truly to be missed. Although I’ve reconnected with my love of Fall and seasons generally and so far this has been a pleasant and mild winter, I must say I miss going to the beach all year round. I spent several Saturday afternoons with a bottle of wine, Boursin, a baguette, a good book, and the Pacific. It was nice.

6. Doughboys
Doughboys on Third between Fairfax and La Cienega was my favorite brunch spot. The meals were hardy, the service was friendly, and the atmosphere was unpretentious. I loved it. I took all who came to visit to brunch there and everyone had a good time. I went at least once a month. My friends in New York (and DC for that matter) would call me a bit of a brunch aficionado. I am obsessed with finding the newest, coolest brunch place. Thanks to Time Out New York Magazine and my adventurous friends I’ve found some amazing brunch places here in the city. But I’ll always remember Doughboys…

5. Café Tartine
This became my favorite restaurant during my time in Los Angeles. It was a French bistro on the corner of Martel and Beverly. Café Tartine was quiet, small, simple and sophisticated, read: not very LA. They had a delicious Crème Brulee. And the Coq-Au-Vin was divine AND reasonably priced. My friend Sally’s birthday party was held there at my suggestion and all invited had a good time.

It was so good that it was sad but not unexpected when I was told that it went out of business a couple months after I left.

There goes the neighborhood.

4. Griffith Park
I didn’t start visiting Griffith Park until the fall, but once I started I visited quite often. For those of you not in the know Griffith Park is one of the largest municipal parks in the nation. There are endless trails, horseback riding, tennis, swimming, golf, a concert hall, and the park is host to the Observatory as well as the Hollywood sign. The free days when I wasn’t at the beach with wine I was here with friends. P.S. Thanks Sally for being a great hiking buddy!

3. Los Angeles Central Library
My hometown, Columbus, Ohio has one of the best public library systems in the country. More residents of Columbus use the library than do residents in any other city, per capita. I mention this because I grew up going to the library. So I feel justified in saying that the downtown branch of the Los Angeles public library system is a terrific place to visit. Its eight floors (four of which are subterranean) are lit by a building length skylight; the book collection is of good quality, and the entire building is wireless. I don't know how many hours of my year were spent there, but they were all well worth it.

2. New Friends
As I’ve mentioned, my time in LA was pretty lonely for me. Up until last year I had spent all of my adult life in areas densely populated with people similar to me. That made it very easy to make friends. It was quite a surprise to find myself in a place so completely foreign and full of values so different from mine, which up until then I thought were universal. This made the friends I did come to know even more important. Thanks Antonne, Clark, Kim-Monique (though I live near you now, if I wasn’t in LA we wouldn’t have met), Kyle, Marcie, Sally, et all for making last year bearable.

1. My Brother
Okay, so he doesn’t live in LA, but when I lived in LA (after we stopped being mad at each other for no reason) I got to see him every couple of weeks. Now I live 3000 miles away again and therefore don’t get to see him whenever I want. That sucks. And so the great “Get My Brother to Move to New York” campaign began…

Long Time, No Write

“Do you think you only write when you’re depressed?”

“No, what do you mean? Why?”

“I don’t know, you haven’t written anything since you left LA and I was wondering if you’ve stopped writing because you’re back on the East Coast?”

Damn. She had a good point.

I tend to only befriend extremely smart people with superior critical thinking skills. Then I act surprised when they call me out.

Throughout this soon to be over year I’ve had experiences I’ve wanted to write about, things I’ve wanted to say and insights to share. But something has kept me from recommitting to write. I’ve narrowed it down to two things:

1. I have had this fantasy of a triumphant return to AnikaTweaka. One where I go away for a few months and come back a brazen, Carrie Bradshaw-esque New Yorker with a fabulous apartment, an amazing job and a closet filled with sample sale items. I have been unwilling to let this dream go and in the meantime I haven’t shared some of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had. So I’m giving that up, not the fantasy of the constant sample sales, but the imposition it’s caused for the blog.
2. I'll admit that one of the original reasons for starting my blog was an LA-induced loneliness. There were very few people with whom I felt I could really connect. So I wrote a blog, a message in a bottle to kindred spirits all over. The blog connected me with folks I knew well, new friends I’d made, and complete strangers. But now that I’m where I should be and surrounded by a healthy cadre of good friends, does that mean I should drop off the blogoshpere universe? No, of course not. I’m giving that up, too.
So dear readers, please forgive me for the ridiculously long sabbatical from chronicling life. I’ve decided, if you’ll have me back, to reintroduce myself by creating “The Twelve Months of 2006 – A Retrospective on the Year After the Worst Year of My Life."



Prologue
I left the job that was making me physically, emotionally, and mentally ill. You see, in my four months with the unnamed public health organization I was almost an accessory to murder. My own, actually. The 10, then six, then four employees of this organization supposedly in existence to promote positive health outcomes for black people, was in fact attempting to drive each staff member to suicide and/or murder. And I participated – by continuing to work there thinking that I was fighting the good fight. Here’s a short chronicle of my time there:

Day One:
After seeing a rat in the building where I was to work, I attend a “Two-day Strategic Planning Meeting” (I use quotations as I witnessed nothing strategic or planning related in the 2 days I participated).

My saving grace was a dear old friend who was in town doing some freelance work. Annoyed at having been roped into flying in to participate in the mess that was the “Two-day Strategic Planning Meeting” he and I went out for drinks where he said, “I wish I’d known you were applying for this; I would’ve told you not to take the job.”

That was day one.

Month Two:
My boss quit. I was working with her on a national project; she was the person I respected most at the entire (six, then five person) operation and had been with the organization for several years. The summer before I started she took leave to tend to her mental health and to “deal with the stress of this place.”

My boss was the sanest person there.

The job had driven her mad, literally.

Also, my uncle died and I found out at the office. As I left to pack and head to the airport the Deputy Director said “we’ll work with you to make up the time off.” You see the office had punitive if not draconian policies and procedures with respect to leave, meaning there was none for three months, and then no vacation for a year. Did I mention the mission of the organization was to promote health? Anyway, the 50-page procedures manual didn’t take into account that someone might die within the probationary period. So I left for a week to attend a funeral (read – not a vacation) and when I got back I got my check, sans one week’s pay. Apparently the phrase “we’ll work with you to make up the time off” meant “we’ll dock you a week’s pay while you’re grieving.” Thanks team!

Month Three:
In addition to running a national program by myself, I was asked to take over the planning of a national meeting, which was to happen in three weeks. At the time there were no plenary speakers, a rough at best conference schedule and no budget.
That month I worked everyday, Saturdays and Sundays included. I even worked a little on Thanksgiving. My brother came to visit for a weekend and he even put together a mailing for them.

I somehow feel as though I made up the time off.

Month Four:
The meeting happened. It was a success.

I had a mental and emotional breakdown. I was at the end of my rope.

I checked out. I needed to get away from the “health organization,” from LA, from all diseased things, people, and places.

At the end of the conference, the Executive Director said that it was a critical time for the organization and therefore all pre-holiday leave was cancelled. Everyone was to report the next day, after working the entire weekend.

Good thinking. Great timing. Stellar management.

I went home for the holidays. My mom told me to quit and not go back. Her advice was based upon the fact that my hair was falling out, my skin had broken out and I had a recurring stomach virus that appeared strikingly similar to the beginning of an ulcer. I would have followed her advice but I still had to pack my things, which were in LA. During my post conference mental breakdown I had given notice on my apartment and had to be out by the beginning of February. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of working there and pack and move by February but I figured everything would work out. So I vowed to go back and collect a paycheck until the rest of my things were packed and I could leave.

And miraculously everything worked out.

As I walked out of the office for the last time I felt a sense of immense relief that I would never have to go back there again.

I even think the rat I saw in the building on my first day tipped his hat and waved goodbye.

Which brings us to January...

Nice and Easy Does it

I’ve been shedding.

Hair, Skin, Friends, it’s all the same. I’m stressed and getting rid of stuff.

The hair thing is not good. Since I started my job four months ago I’ve noticed that more and more of my hair ends up on the bathroom floor. This has to stop. As my mother so succinctly put it when I visited her last week, “It’s just a job, kid. So just go in and collect a paycheck until you can get where you need to be. Don’t worry about the bullshit. You’re better than that.”

Yes, she really does talk like that.

I decided to take her advice and for the past two days (since I’ve come back from vacation) it’s been working. I think I was the only one in today’s staff meeting who wasn’t annoyed. I felt completely serene and unattached to what was going on. It was great. I’m even seeing less of my hair on the floor.

The skin thing is good and natural. Every 28 days we shed a layer of skin. As we grow older the time between shedding grows longer and our skin loses its elasticity. All of the fancy anti-aging products are really about restoring the 28-day shed cycle (or so my dermatologist says).

So I guess I’ve taken a lesson from my skin in the friends department. As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, I’m eliminating people who don’t bring me joy. This past weekend in NYC I realized that relationships should make you happy. I have quite a few relationships of that type and need to spend my time cultivating those.

So I did. And it was wonderful.

Don’t get me wrong, the weekend started out not so great. I went on a car trip with 6 other people from DC to New York. When I got to New York my toiletry bag wasn’t in the car. The bag had about $1300 worth of stuff (obviously not all toiletries – I’m not a Crème de la Mer person, yet) including several non-replaceable items. I can safely say this put me in a very foul mood. Instead of sulking at Applebee’s with the rest of the group I decided to change my clothes and go to a dear old friend’s party. And wouldn’t you know I felt immediately better. I stayed at her party until 3am!

I spent the next day hanging out with three friends from college who I miss terribly, and who always manage to make me laugh. I also hung out with a new friend I made last month through work. I managed to have a great time.

And at 9:30am when I dragged my hung-over ass from Brooklyn to Manhattan I decided that life was too short to waste on thorny relationships. Ones that are difficult or unpleasant or that don’t make me happy don’t have any business in my life. I think I’ve been hanging on to some relationships because they were familiar, or because at one time they did make me happy, but I think I’m getting too old for that sh--. If I can have a terrific time hanging out with a friend I met a month ago, why should I be miserable being with someone I’ve known for years?

In the next three to six months I will start a new job, move across the country, and begin the process of applying to grad school. With all that on my plate for the first half of the year, when do I have time for arduous and disappointing relationships? Maybe it’s not in the cards for me and them right now. Maybe it’s not meant for us to be friends. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it’s not. All I know right now is that stuff that isn’t working is going to end up either down the drain or the bathroom floor.

Travel Log Point System

I just got back from a whirlwind tour of the East. All in all I’d say the trip was worth 425 points. By the way, I’ve begun to assess life on a point system.

Traveling to Columbus from LA. -50 points
My first flight left late, causing me to miss my connection in Denver. -25

I begged to get to Chicago and was put up at the O-Hare Hilton. +5

I arrived the next morning into Port Columbus sans luggage. -25

It arrived the next day. +5

I wore my mother’s clothing on Christmas Eve. -10 (It could have been worse than J.Jill. She’s pretty fashionable.)

Being in Columbus +200
My mom, Grandfather and I made dinner. My biggest contribution was making sweet potato pie. +25

I got to see my cousins, who I didn’t expect to see much of after my uncle’s death. +25

I spent quality time with my Dad. +50

I got to meet my great-great aunt Ida. +50

I hung out with my family and didn’t get bored. In fact, I wish I had more time in Columbus for the first time in a while. +50

Being in DC +200
I had a hair appointment. +25 (yes, that’s worth the same as Christmas dinner)

I spent time with my great-great Uncle Jimmy (Ida’s 94 year old younger brother). +50

I hung out with some really good friends I thought I’d lost. +50

I had lunch with a colleague that may lead to a job. +25

I got the new RAZR phone. +50

Being in NYC +125
My toiletry bag was lost. -100

I hung out with my dear-dear friend Corie, who I haven’t seen in a year and who is really happy and has a great apartment. +50
I hung out with my friend Aimee, who has seen me through some tough times this year. +50

I hung out with two other good friends from college on New Year’s Eve. +50

I partied with Me'shell Ndegeocello in Brooklyn. +50

I spent the night in Brooklyn at my new friend’s partner’s house. She’s cool and I’m excited to have one more good friend in New York. +25

Post trip / return home -50
My flight home arrived an hour late. -50

I waited for Super Shuttle for an hour. -50

I was the last drop off. -50

My bag was found! +100

The Pink Pistols – Part Deux

Several years ago I read a Salon.com article titled Pink Pistols, a Swiftian argument for issuing guns to gay people in lieu of extending the hate crimes bill to include sexual orientation. It was quite funny.

Equally entertaining but not funny in the least, was Brokeback Mountain, the gay cowboy (read: Pink Pistols – 2) film I saw last night with a great friend. I call her a great friend because after seeing this incredibly depressing and poignant movie, she put up with, hell she even laughed at my barrage of smart ass comments, including the following:

“You know, for a comedy, it really wasn’t laugh out loud funny.”
(Note to readers: Brokeback Mountain was in no way a comedy. I have to make this note because last year when asked what I thought of Closer I said “it was an uplifting tale of love and commitment that made me immediately want to get back in the saddle and meet someone to settle down with.” He believed me and took a date to see it. I felt my sarcasm was clear, but from then on I’ve decided to make sure.)

“You know, the movie really shows us that love conquers all, even in Wyoming.”

“Well, at least he got his shirt back in the end.”

I would encourage everyone to see the film, if not to see why it was nominated for so many awards, then to understand my sarcastic and wholly inappropriate commentary.

Happy Viewing!

How to Have Fun in LA

Last night I went to a birthday party for a friend I made out here. Her name is Marcie and she just turned 22 for the umpteenth time. This was a big evening for me in three ways.

1. I left my apartment for a non-work-related event.
2. I spent time with all two of my LA friends at the same time.
3. I had fun.

You see, Marcie and I are both black women in our late twenties who err on the side of catty. That would be where our similarities end.

Marcie is a very talented singer.
I played cello in high school.

Marcie dresses like a rockstar.
I dress for the Hamptons.

Marcie generously arranges events for a group of women we know, some she likes, some she doesn’t.
I don’t come.

But we both have the same direct, honest, and somewhat harsh outlook on life and people. So last night when I arrived at the party she informed me of some drama that had occurred at a recent event she arranged (which I didn’t attend).

After that she asked me if I was sleeping with a mutual friend of ours.

“What? No!” was my response.

She then informed me that there was a rumor going around that the mutual friend and I were “having relations.” (Note to readers: “having relations” is not a direct quote.)

“In that case, Yes. We are so totally 'having relations.' Please tell everyone.”
(Note to readers: “having relations” is not a direct quote.)

This is when I began to have a good time. I waited for said mutual friend to arrive and informed the person in question about our torrid love affair. The mutual friend was game for the ruse and we set about creating a romantic relationship for the benefit of people I don’t care about.

I began to drink, calling my new significant other “honey,” “sweetie,” and other terms of endearment. We danced, we laughed, and we had a great time. It occurred to me that I should create relationships out of thin air all the time.

It also occurred to me that I had more fun than I’ve had with that group of people in a really long time. They’re quite drama-prone so I decided to remove myself from the mess so as to remain sane and maintain my dignity. Instead, I should be using their proclivity for drama for my own amusement.

Why didn’t I think of this before? Everyone annoying exists to entertain me in some fashion or another. Instead of shunning people for being morons, I should embrace them in a purely patronizing way.

Alcohol and condescension are always the quickest paths to Funville!

I’m ashamed this is only now coming to me. I really am slipping…

A Hermit Thanksgiving


I know Thanksgiving was two weeks ago, but since I wrote my blog about Halloween on November 10th I've decided to continue with my post-post-holiday blogs.

Basically, I worked.

Not on Thanksgiving, but the day before from 8am-midnight, the Friday after, Saturday, and Sunday.

Did I get paid?
Did I mention that I worked at a non-profit?

Did I get comp time?
Have you met my boss?

Well what did I get?
I got some flowers.

So just in case you didn't pick up on this already, I'm looking for a new job. By the spring I would like (read: NEED) to be in New York doing great work for great people with great pay, living in a great apartment, and traveling to great places. Any assistance in arranging that would be greatly appreciated.

On a happier note, my brother finally came to visit a couple of weeks ago. For those of you not in the know, my brother lives in San Francisco. Two years ago he launched a successful marketing campaign to get me to move to LA, you know, so we could be closer to each other. So I moved in December of 2004.

His recent visit, in November of 2005, marks the first trip he's made to see me.

I'm so glad I moved here to be closer to my brother, who reads this blog, and never visits. In his defense, he brought me a TV when he came to visit, so my hermit lifestyle has been enhanced. I am now no longer confined to staring at my ceiling and listening to NPR. I can watch Law and Order (again)!

Actually, I wanted to visit him for Thanksgiving. But as you know, I worked. Instead I watched television and ate cookies.

I would have gone to the movies,
but that would have meant driving and changing out of pajamas.

I would have gone to a friend’s house,
but that would have meant driving and changing out of pajamas.

I would have gone out to eat,
but that would have meant driving and changing out of pajamas.

And since I’ve not watched TV regularly since moving to LA, sitting in my pjs, eating cookies, and watching shows I’ve only heard about was the best Thanksgiving I could have wished for - given my current state of affairs.

Next year I’ll go home or host a dinner in my great NYC apartment. Until then, chocolate covered wafers and a remote control will do.

(Thanks for the TV, kiddo.)