Iris Dorbian's Blog, page 4
April 3, 2016
Yes, I’m Still Here
I was going to write as a headline “Yes, I’m Still Alive” but then thought the latter word “alive” might presuppose a few health problems, which I’m currently (thankfully) not having. So I swapped out “Alive” for “Here.”
Sorry I haven’t been active on my blog but since the start of 2016, my life has been a WHIRLWIND! And that is no exaggeration.
The following things happened in January:
A close family friend with no real history of medical ailments died suddenly;
My mother decided to retire after 45 years; and
I was told after three years of working for a specific company–the last year and a half in a full-time capacity that my contract would be ending;
And here’s just a summary of February’s highlights:
I continued to help my mother in her post-retirement phase;
My contract job officially ended February 10;
I sent resumes out and was lucky to score a number of interviews;
One of those interviews led to a string of call-back interviews that would continue into early March;
I debated what to do with my insurance–whether I should still continue to pay the premium or opt for something less expensive given my precarious job status;
I did a few freelance gigs after February 10 just to keep some incoming trickling in;
I debated about my bills and loans and opted to give myself a few more weeks until making a decision about them;
I started writing a monthly column for the Clyde Fitch Report;
I went back and looked at a novella I wrote last year that’s about the experiences my teen-aged father had in a DP camp following World War II. After reading it, I decided it wasn’t a piece of crap and that it had some merit. I did a rough revision on it.
My recent old company offered me a short-term, part-time research gig, which I took and that would last into early March.
And this is just a smattering from February. Here is March:
I continued to go out on job interviews;
Disgusted and frustrated with Trump, I gave some money to the Hillary Clinton campaign;
I also joined the campaign as a volunteer in NJ and canvassed the local mall, seeking to get signatures on a petition that would ensure Hillary’s name would be on the ballot for the NJ primary in early June;
I wrote my second column for the CFR Report;
After finishing the rough revision of the post-Holocaust novella, I researched editors and finally found a really good one based on a referral from someone who specializes in Jewish-themed fiction/nonfiction;
Said editor reviewed the manuscript and gave me an excellent developmental edit from which I’m continuing to work with;
I got a job–in PR/communications, which I had been looking to transition into–only drawback is the commute but I have to get used to that;
On my first day while trying to catch a bus, I had a nasty fall–and walked into the office of my new job bleeding and asking for bandaids!! (I’m better now); and
I’ve now decided that my breakup with New York City is not as acrimonious as it once was–we’re back to being on very good terms.
Again more happened in March–that’s just a smattering. I wonder what April will bring.
I knew on New Year’s Eve that 2016 would be INSANE but in a good way. Now that we’re barely four months into the year, I can say that my prediction is proving to be true.
Can’t wait to see what June will be like! Crazy year!
How is everyone else’s year shaping up?
Photo is from the Impressionists and Expressionists exhibit at the Neues Museum in Berlin. I was there last September.
March 4, 2016
Thank You!! Amazon Promotion Went Well!!
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February 26, 2016
Check Out Tiny Excerpt From New Project:
Here it is:
"I gasped. I looked like a 55-year-old man. Everything about me reeked of lifelessness—from the opaque hazel eyes to the stooped posture resembling a fading, elderly gnome in the final throes of osteoporosis to the branches of bones sticking out through brittle veiny skin. Even my ears protruded with an extraterrestrial freakishness I found alarming. There was nothing youthful about me. My complexion was cadaverously sallow. No, it was worse than that. The flesh was imbued with a color no presumably alive human being could have. All vestiges of innocence were summarily robbed from me and what remained was the hollowed out hulk of a frightened, damaged old man-child."
February 25, 2016
Today and Tomorrow My Book is Free on Amazon!
Thanks.
December 30, 2015
Ode to New Year’s Eve ’89-‘90—Sushi, High Schoolers, Blown Out Speakers and Lox Around the Clock
New Year’s Eve always makes me groan. What an overhyped, excessively overpriced holiday heavily laden with forced conviviality and synthetic joy! Gag. Whoever said it’s a holiday for amateurs was correct!
For the last 20 years or so, I’ve had relatively calm and introspective New Year’s Eve celebrations. I think THIS is the perfect way to spend the evening: going out to dinner, seeing a movie and then watching the ball in Times Square drop on TV. That’s it. I don’t need anything more.
And it’s not just age that cured me of New Year’s Eveitis–it was a New Year’s Eve past in New York City that was so chaotic and so full of unrealized and unreasonably high expectations that afterwards I vowed to never ever take it seriously again. If that meant I would be dismissive toward it, then so be it.
It was New Year’s Eve 1989 heading into 1990. I was in my 20s. My friend Evelyn had called me a few days before asking me what I was going to be doing for New Year’s Eve. I told her I had no plans. She mentioned that her sister knew a lot of people and had been invited to a slew of parties.
“I should get the list from her,” she told me. “We should go to all those parties. We should make this the best New Year’s Eve ever. We might even meet someone.” Like me, Evelyn was single and also around the same age.
That sounded like a good idea, I replied. It had been eons (well for me) since I had done anything remotely memorable on New Year’s Eve.
On the day of reckoning, I met up with Evelyn at her apartment in Manhattan’s Stuyvesant Town section where she lived. Also at her place was a friend of hers Lynn, another single woman in her 20s, whom Evelyn had invited to partake in the evening’s festivities with us.
The evening started off on a potentially promising note. The first party we hit was on St. Mark’s Place in the East Village. Our hosts were a very charming couple who seemed to be in their late 20s/early 30s. The woman was Japanese and her male significant other was English. They served sushi and played light jazz on their tape mix.
The apartment wasn’t crowded—maybe less than a dozen others were also there.
To be honest, I liked it. I could have stayed there the entire night. But I got overruled by Evelyn and Lynn.
While talking to a fortysomething female guest who worked as a nurse and was telling me how her life changed for the better after she turned 30 (I liked this considering the 3-0 was looming in the distance), I saw Evelyn and Lynn huddled in a corner. With an upraised finger, Evelyn motioned me to join them in their private tete-a-tete.
“This is a very nice party,” said Evelyn. “But it’s too mellow and…classy. I mean, this is New Year’s Eve. We want to dance and have fun. So we want to go. What do you think?”
As I was clearly outflanked, I shrugged and went along with Evelyn and Lynn.
The next party on the list required us taking a subway to midtown. I don’t remember if this was the East Side or the West Side but I know it was midtown—perhaps the 30s. Definitely not in the epicenter of madness-Times Square–but pretty close to it.
By this time, we were about 10 minutes away from midnight—when the ball drops. We got to our destination just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, there was a big problem: Virtually all of the party-ers were high schoolers, with their parents acting as chaperones! Oh no! So as quickly as we arrived, as quickly we left. And the clock struck midnight while we were in the elevator trying to get the hell out of there.
Next up was another party, also midtown. This one was good—on the surface, that is. The apartment was beautifully furnished; the crowd was fun and welcoming; the food was delicious; the music was excellent; and everyone was dancing and enjoying the New Year’s Eve.
But…(and this seemed to be a running theme with all the parties we hit that night) there was a BIG problem. Except for another female there (who seemed to be friends with one of the hosts), we were the only women. Yes, my friends, we were with all gay men. Sigh.
Once again, I saw Evelyn and Lynn huddled in a corner. And once again, Evelyn motioned me to join them in their private conversation.
“This is a great party,” she said to me. “But the men here are all gay! We are three attractive, single and straight women. What are we doing on New Year’s Eve with all of these gay men?”
At this point, it was getting late—about 2:30 am or thereabouts. At that point, I knew that the prospect of us having a perfect New Year’s Eve and meeting the loves of our lives was…greatly diminishing. But I went along with Evelyn and Lynn. I was outnumbered you see. But they had a point.
Evelyn said there was one more party on the list. This was in Soho and was being thrown by several NYU graduate film school students. Having gone to NYU as an undergrad and befriended quite a few NYU film students, I looked forward to mingling with these folks at this party.
Unfortunately, by the time we got there—after 3 am, the party seemed to be ostensibly over. Most of the food and liquor was gone. People were leaving. Some were passed out on sofas and chairs. Even the speakers had blown out.
The hostess thanked us for coming but apologized.
“It’s too bad you guys didn’t come earlier. We had a lot of food and booze—and the speakers were working,” she said.
Sigh.
We left soon after and walked to a then very popular 24/7 hour diner called Lox Around the Clock. It was near where Evelyn lived. In the diner were lots of hungover, insomniac New Year’s Eve revelers who were clearly getting an early breakfast after a night of heavy-duty partying. We, too, ordered an early breakfast.
Lynn and I crashed at Evelyn’s place that morning. I remember waking up with a big headache and disappointed expectations. Oh well.
Six months later, Evelyn told me she was leaving New York City to move to Spain. On a vacation there a year earlier, she had a fling with a much younger con artist/criminal type. She was infatuated with him and wanted to rekindle that flame. She also wanted to perfect her Spanish so she enrolled in a school there to do just that. I never saw her again.
But I do think often of that NYE that turned out to be a washout probably because we had such unrealistically high expectations. Still, it did cure me of a socially mandated need to party like mad on that night. But more important than that, I see that evening as being pretty symbolic as it closed the chapter to a somewhat unruly time in my life (the 1980s) while ushering in a decade where I hunkered down and finally got serious (the 1990s).
Have a very Happy New Year’s Eve! And if you get drunk, PLEASE have someone else drive you home.
Lots of health, best wishes and good fortune for 2016!
Photo courtesy of © Paulus Rusyanto | Dreamstime Stock Photos.
December 24, 2015
Happy Holidays and Thank You So Much!
Happy Holidays and Best Wishes for 2016!!
December 21, 2015
Just Got Five-Star Review on Amazon! Yeah!
"I LOVE the book. The author does a great job capturing the mood of NYC in the late 70s/early 80s and it is such a fun time to read about."
Thank you so much Amazon customer! Here's the link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-rev...
December 12, 2015
Check Out New Review of My Book "Love, Loss and Longing in the Age of Reagan"
December 6, 2015
1210 Downloads!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!
November 23, 2015
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