I’m tired of finding myself described as a “Socialist,” “Communist,” “moon bat,” “loon,” and that’s just for starters. Many people would take pleasure in being described in so many other blogs and comments. I don’t.
Janet needs my plug about as much as Mrs. Mogul does.
That makes me happy because they’re two of my fave bloggers. Actually they’re great examples as they represent two vastly different sides of me.
Yes I have various persona’s. Most people do.
In college I went to The Plaza for tea several times as the WASP girls would take me when they went to meet their mothers. I was Jewish with long frizzy hair–that was actually very nice and I knew it, a great nose–totally natural, good table manners and I was polite. But I drew the line at calling anybody “sir,’ or “ma’am.” Didn’t come from that world.
I came from a first name world. We called teachers and doctors by their last names–and our next door neighbors who were German Jews. My mother always had doubts about the wife, being born Jewish. I never understood why my mother put so much emphasis on that. They had two sons who were exactly my sister and my ages.
The older son and the husband both liked me. At my sister’s wedding the husband offered me a considerable sum of money to visit the older son in a distant warm state.
Though we were next door neighbors from the time we were twelve until we graduated high school, and our parents continued living there, I had never actually had a conversation with the son. He struck me as boring. In our yearbooks, there’s just his picture with some innocuous quote that the yearbook staff put in.
We had to have clubs in our college applications, and everybody in our class went to college. Other people lived in towns. We lived in a school district. Our school was largest in land area and smallest in student body in our county. It was the public high school that thought it was private.
My picture had many clubs listed under it, and a quote that I first appreciated when it came out. To live her life convention bound, she never would be willing. My closest friend, in the community, was one of the editors. Though I was listed as being on the staff, I don’t remember doing anything. Think that they were trying to give me credit for all my work against the Viet Nam war.
It amazes me that I was so shy and yet was able to try to organize a bus to DC for a demonstration my senior year. Didn’t say I could do it; but I tried. Not too much later things like that would be easy for me.
I have been really lucky. Though I think luck accounts for 25% of our successes, hard work, 40%, recognizing opportunities, another 40 %, and something intangible, the last 5%. Too late to analyze this further.
I have to be up early; have four weeks of grand jury duty, and have a long list of things that have to be done, before summer.
Summer’s sacred to me. I live for it. Should move to a hot climate, but need the ocean, no rain–oh I’ll think about it…
Just tired of being called names that make people think I’m something that I’m not. Which is why I wrote an incredibly inappropriate post–about investing–as the main way I make money. I did take it out.
Really I’m the consummate consumer. I can describe my furniture with a lot more affection than I can my politics. My politics are one part of me; my apartment interior shows me. As far as I can tell, I basically want to write a blockbuster for two reasons: so I can be a guest on Letterman, and show off my apartment in a shelter magazine. To be really honest, I would prefer a pictorial and essay by me in Vogue.
Oh yeah, the third reason: I love money and would love to be really rich.