Pleasure Notes

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to look back on a month and find a few pleasurable things to highlight. In fact, March is the last time I visited this theme. Damn! I’m thrilled to jump back into the habit of pausing for a moment to reflect on the previous few weeks and find the bright spots. Here’s what I have to share this month…

1. Reuniting with my brother and mom. While the circumstances around the reunion were sad – my grandfather passed away, it was really wonderful to spend even 24 hours with them. My mom lives halfway across the country. My brother lives on the opposite coast. I miss them.
2. Full-time employment. Yes, folks, I have a new, full-time job – Yipp-fucking-ee! It’s been years since I worked a forty hour week for someone else, and got paid for it. I’ve only been at my new job for a week, but I’m absolutely loving it.


My Name Is Joy by Jongky via Flickr

3. Reality television. Not all of it, just So You Think You Can Dance. I’m addicted. I find it completely inspiring. I danced when I was younger. I loved it. I haven’t danced in years, and I never danced as well as these kids do, but watching them is pure pleasure.

The Sun Also Rises

As anyone who is not a first time visitor to this blog can attest, the past few months have been a wee bit chaotic for me. I feel like my life has been abruptly upended and I’ve been unceremoniously tossed from one path onto another. The strangest, and most difficult to reconcile, part about this turn of events is that the view from this new path is so much better.

Three months ago, I was in the midst of a desperately generic mid-life crisis – semi-employed in a job that was far too close to “track-marked porn star” for my liking, contemplating bankruptcy, and lamenting what I saw as a future of chronic, cat-hair-covered singlehood. I was far removed, both figuratively and literally, from all my dreams, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. Yes, I was melodramatic. And depressed. And self-indulgently mucking about in doom and gloom. I was completely lost.

But then, life had its way with me. I was visited by a very confusing mix of devastating tragedy and joyous serendipity. I was sharply reminded, on a cosmic level, that I do not have shit figured out, and that is as it should be.

Here’s what I’ve learned – this isn’t ground-breaking, I just finally get it…

1) Life gets dark sometimes – really, really dark, so it’s a waste of energy to make it dark myself. I’m not nearly as inventive as the universe.

2) No matter how dark it gets, the light always comes back. It may not shine where I expect it, or want it, to shine but, as Hemingway put it so eloquently, the sun also rises.

I’m working on getting back into a rhythm of posting Pleasure Notes, as I’m adjusting to this new path. I hope you stay with me through the fits and starts…

Looking on the Bright Side

I live in Southern California. Every single year, we are confronted with what the weatherman kindly refers to as “June Gloom” – days of grey skies and drizzle reminiscent of that which Oregonians must suffer through for most of their lives. Every single year, I forget this. And every single year, I am completely affronted by nature’s decision to hide the sun.

Today, in fact, is the first day all month during which the sun dispelled the clouds completely. It’s been a glorious day – a nice little treat for everyone celebrating Father’s Day around here. The fine weather has me wanting to emerge from hibernation. My brain starts clicking again. I begin pondering life, particularly my life, as if I’m being introduced to it for the first time.

I wonder, why is it that I am affronted by “June Gloom”? Expanding upon that, why am I caught off guard by phenomena which I’ve previously experienced and therefore should expect, or avoid, next time they come around?

As soon as it stops raining, I forget that it ever rains in Los Angeles. As soon as I become involved with a new guy, I forget the red flags I learned to identify through the last relationship. As soon as I see that yummy caramel corn at the movie theatre, I forget that I always feel sick after eating it.

Now, this faulty memory doesn’t just make me forget the bad. I frequently forget the good too.

I never remember that I feel incompetent at the start of every new job, but then get over it. I never remember that waking up early to take a hike leaves me more alert than stealing that extra hour of sleep. I never remember that the load of laundry or sink full of dishes which I’m avoiding will only take five minutes to address.

Why is it, do you think, that we (I know I’m not alone on this) approach repeat situations as if we are facing them for the very first time?

Tell me, what do you always forget, no matter how many times you are met by it?

Designed by Jasper Morrison

I found these Cork Stools, designed by Jasper Morrison for Vitra a while ago, and simply fell in love with them. They are each 13 inches high, with seat diameters of 12 inches – perfect for your butt, your cat or a few piled coffee table books. Simply designed, seemingly indestructible and adaptable to almost any style of home decor, these stools evoke both a sense of whimsy and practicality. Very impressive.

Plus, every time I look at them, I think of wine. I like wine. Can you imagine how large the bottles, to which these puppies might belong, must be?

Price: Expensive. Available at The Future Perfect and other fine contemporary furniture and design studios.

By Any Other Name

What’s in a name? Do you think you would be a different person if you had a different name? Have you ever thought of changing yours? I know I’ve thought about it many times. In fact, I’ve even acted on the impulse.

Yes, ladies and gents, I have changed my name, more than once. My boss recommended I use a different name at work, because future employers might act wonky if they knew I’d once punched the clock at a dildo factory, so I have. When I started college, I attempted to make people call me by my middle name, but it never caught on. I even tried out numerous alter egos while pursuing an acting career, going so far as to practice various signatures in case my “real name” was already taken by some other ingenue in SAG; I eventually went with my given name when I joined the union – due to indecision rather than conviction.

So it should come as no surprise to you that when I started this blog, I created a new name for myself. It wasn’t far from my given name – everyone calls me Em. You see, I was unsure about how much of myself I would end up revealing in this blog, what subjects I would eventually want to discuss and how many secrets I might reveal. I did not want to censor myself for fear of upsetting someone I love or have my personal opinions affect my career – the one that doesn’t involve the dildo factory.

Recently, however, my cyber identity and my “real” one collided, and my anonymity was accidentally broken. Luckily, people before me, like the amazing Lemmonex, have been in similar circumstances and shared their experiences. I know I am faced with a choice, either to put a great deal of effort into keeping my two lives separate or to trust that a name does not define me.

While I am not going to now shout the name and social security number that are on my birth certificate to the roof tops, I’ve discovered that I don’t care anymore if someone puts two and two together. I have grown to really love the name Emma James, and how I express myself while identifying so. When someone refers to me as Emily, however, I’m not going to pretend they’re actually just discussing that Dickinson chic. For whatever reason, Emma does provide me greater freedom, or at least I perceive myself as more free – to be me. Strange, perhaps, but perception is everything.

How do you think people perceive you, based on your name? Do you think you fit your name? If not, what name would you choose, to express who you are?