I AM GOING TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE!

Advice to the Dear Beloved Reader #1

2006-12-30T20:28:00.000-08:00

As devoted readers of this healing lifejournal know, I have recently begun accepting questions from those readers who may not have the money or dedication to their own well-being to secure my professional lifecoaching services. As always, you can reach me at sara_benincasa@hotmail.com. Please label your submission CHANGE MY LIFE! as I receive dozens of e-mails each hour, many from mailing lists I inadvertently joined upon accidentally ordering a mint-condition old issue of Playboy with Soleil Moon Frye on the cover (I am easily confused by eBay! I chose not to return it because I didn't want to disappoint the small business-persun who had labored to send it to me in unmarked brown paper wrapping.)

Here, then, is my first foray into Internet-advisory.

Dear ms. benincasa,

i am a 25 year young woman who has yet to decide on a career.presently, i work at an upscale coffee bar where i bring home anywhere from $30- $70 in tips on top of $8/hr. everyday. which is more than alot of office professionals that i know here in pittsburgh.

there are lots of things that i am good at but there are few things that i am GREAT at. the few things that i excell in are fields that i promised myself i wouldnt get into, such as management and food service. i am a dedicated anarchist and i fear that if i fall into a career that involves management, ( aka dominating other humans and making their lives hell, which is soooooooooo not anarcho-friendly), that i will end up losing sight of all of my ideals and becoming some fat american asshole who does nothing but watch tv and go to work.

i really want to make a difference, but i also want to do something thati'm great at while still being able to pay the bills. at the moment, i am looking at ads on craigslist, for topless housecleaners. also i am obsessive compulsive with cleanliness, i have interests in academic fields such as archival science and literature. can you suggest a career that you think might suit me? i am willing to try anything (i.e. topless housecleaning).i have been described as highly motivated, creative, having strong convictions, bossy, and crazy by different people.okay. help me please.

love,
show me the money

Dearest Show Me,

First, I must applaud you for having the courage and foresight to ask me to solve your problems instead of taking care of them yourself!

Second, it is clear to me, dear heart, that your soul's true occupation is the one you mentioned most: topless housecleaning. At 25, you are the perfect age to legally and willingly engage in such an endeavor! As I tell all my clients, "To make it real, you've first got to enVision It (TM)!"

I encourage you to really close your eyes and enVision yourself without a top, cleaning a linoleum floor. Breathe in as you experience the freedom of housework without that tool of the patriarchy, clothing, restricting your movements. Breathe out as you actually take off your shirt and bra, experiencing the real liberation of the actual act of disrobement. Then take a digital portrait and send it to me at sara_benincasa@hotmail.com, where I shall meditate on it and send vibrational healing energies to you.

I will add only that the Los Angeles metropolitan area has a dire shortage of topless housecleaners, particularly in my neighborhood of Silverlake, and that your presence here would serve to increase your flow of abundance and also to relieve the exhausted local topless housecleaner who currently is so booked that you have to call her six weeks in advance and even then she'll only come if you pay her $300 upfront and promise to tip generously. Which is really a little much for just pushing around a broom with tits dangling, don't you think?

Blessed be,

Sara

A Tale of Kwanzaa

2006-12-30T15:53:00.000-08:00

It appears that the holy-days have come and gone, except for the festival of Kwanzaa, in which people of African descent in America so gorgeously celebrate their tragic yet highly entertaining heritage. Last night was the evening we who celebrate Kwanzaa take time to explore the theme of "Abundance." As a lifelong friend and supporter of the African-American people, particularly their tap-dancers, I too take part in the eight days of light and affirmation. This year I baked a cake in the shape of Gregory Hines' face and constructed the traditional kinara, or candle-holder, out of wicker woven through with dreadlocks collected during two years of being Savion Glover's spiritual consultant.

Last night, my old Afro-Amero-Dakotan college friends Dashiell and Hammett came over to celebrate with me. Back in our salad days at the North Dakota State University-Strasburg, where I developed my own independent major in Wounded Theatre, Dashiell and Hammett were two of the only persuns of colour in the Theatre Department. I shall never forget the words of Dr. Dougray Orr, the department head, on our day of Convocation in the Lawrence Welk Memorial Theatre: "Welcome, freshmen. It appears we'll finally be able to do Othello this year."

Today, Dashiell and Hammett are two of my favorite people in the world to see once a year on Kwanzaa. They live in Venice, where Dashiell owns a boutique in which one can have an organic perfume or cologne custom-blended for one's dog. Dashiell possesses the unique ability to "read" a dog's olfactory aura, which enables him to create the perfect scent to match any canine soul. My own dearly departed miniature toy poodle, Wayne Dyer, who passed after a tragic and unexpected allergic reaction to the organic chocolate body scrub at the Canyon Ranch Spa last summer, used to sport a very nice aroma that Dashiell made based on an analysis of Wayne Dyer's astrological chart and stool sample.. It consisted of a bergamot topnote followed by a hint of mint and a final, subtle splash of Clorox. Sometimes I wear it, now, in remembrance of the light that Wayne Dyer brought into my life for six beautiful years.

At any rate, Dashiell entered smelling of roses and tulip-bulbs, throwing red, green and yellow confetti everywhere and shouting our traditional Kwanzaa greeting, "What time it is? What time it is? It time for Kwanzaa, what time it is!" Hammett then performed a cartwheel, which is a wonderful expression of his boundless childwonder and is particularly impressive because he has no legs (a horrible but not-unforeseeable accident during one of the requisite core courses at North Dakota State, Wheat Threshing 101). It was really just a sort of rolling handstand with a rather hard landing, actually. Dashiell scooped him up, tied a Marcus Garvey (TM) limited edition bib around his neck (Hammett is capable of swallowing all his food but prefers not to for political reasons), and placed him in his high chair.

What followed was a lovely, rollicking feast, marred only by a phone call from Kutie informing me that she would not be able to make it to work for the next week because "Damn, miss, my abuelo done died-ed and shit." I was hard-pressed not to sob into my kente cloth, as Kutie has had such an array of personal tragedies of late. Since she began working for me a week and a half ago, no fewer than four of her grandfathers have died! This latest blow might be enough to send the poor girl over the edge. As usual, I offered to wire her some money to buy a nice casket and she accepted, telling me to send $2000 instead of just $1500 this time because this grandfather was extraordinarily fat. I could barely hold back my flood of tears, which were a combination of sadness at her loss and joy that Kutie had chosen to rely on me in this personal time of crisis. I asked if she needed me to come over and hold her for an hour or six, or perhaps just provide a free Shower of Abundance (TM) but she declined in Spanish that I could not quite understand but which sounded rather emphatic. What a strong people the Mexicans are.

Speaking of strong people, Hammett decided while I was on the phone that he would like to express his African heritage through a death-defying stunt set to an ancient African folk ballad. When I got back to the dining room, Hammett was swinging from the chandelier, singing the theme from "Song of the South" while Dashiell accompanied him on spoons and harmonica. My sadness soon dissolved as I laughed uproariously and joined in on my didgeridoo. Oh, if only every night could be Kwanzaa!

Of Quinceaneras and Kutie

2006-12-22T17:07:00.000-08:00

Kutie was not able to come to work today because one of her seventeen sisters is having her quinceanera this evening, and many preparations are underway. This is the charming and life-affirming Mexican ritual in which a womyn of fifteen, having made her first menses and grown budding if not fully ripe orbs of nurturance upon her chest, is initiated into the community as a full member in the lovingembracefulness of family and friends.

Kutie informed me that there is a lavish party with ritualized dancing to recorded music, which I assume comes from various indigenous peoples. When pressed for details, she said, "Damn, miss, you know, like Sean Paul and shit." Apparently this world music avatar hails from the Caribbean islands and performs fast-paced, jovial music with influences from Africa, the West Indies and our own United States. I looked for him on Peter Gabriel's One World recording label web-sight, and also on Sounds True's web-sight, but could find no trace of him. I suppose he has not yet achieved the sort of mainstream success of the luscious Ladysmith Black Mambazo or the juicy Celtic-influenced songstress Lorena McKennitt. Pity, as Kutie seems to be quite fond of his oeuvre, particularly a song she described as "the fuckin' jam, miss, 'Gimme the Light,' that's my SONG."

This love for "the Light" is exactly why I see in Kutie the potential for an amazing creative/spiritual/physical (in that we will be in close physical proximity to one another during work days...of course) collaborative relation-ship, a ship I hope to sail across waters turbulent and calm en route to the New World of the latest incarnation of Sara Benincasa Lifehealing, Inc.

Because I myself am a Being of Light (I was certified at a weekend intensive at Omega), I recognized the Light within Kutie the first time I ordered a wheatgrass shake with an echinacea booster from her. The way she waited to respond to my order until after she had completed her cellular telephone conversation with someone named Chuey really showed me that she understood the importance of going slowly and savoring the moment.

I am presently meditating on my very first blog-based request for emotional/spiritual assistance. It is such an honor to know that my work is truly reaching an entire new audience through the use of this electronic Inter-Woven Web of Love.

Because I wish to keep the identities of my clients private, I will say only this: Emily, I am working on your issue. Expect to see a sensitively wrought response on this very blog-sight within the next few holy days, and know that I would never compromise the integrity of our mentoring relationship. That said, enjoy Christmas in the Oakland neighborhood of Pittsburgh, PA and say hello to your father, Mr. Jackson, as soon as you speak to him on the telephone.

Namaste.

A New Day Dawns at Sara Benincasa Lifehealing, Inc.

2006-12-21T18:23:00.000-08:00

As devout readers of this blog know, I have a stable of celebrity clients who shall remain forever unnamed, particularly one whose first name rhymes with "Owie!" and whose last name rhymes with "Standell."

Speaking of the Standells--I love that dirty water, am I right, Matt and Ben? ;)

Sorry, sorry--my celeb clients love when I slip little secret acknowledgments of their love and praise into my blogs! But of course, I treat all clients equally as god/dess children of light under the MoonMother/Father and the SunMother/Father--I trust you to assign gender to the heavenly bodies, if you wish to assign gender to that which is essentially genderless, the Divine Love. That is your choice, and while some of us who work in the enlightenment arts would never choose to be so rigid, I would never force that decision upon you, my sweet darlings.

My steadfast devotion to my celebrity clients has been threatened by the recent departure of my beloved longtime literary agent Ndege Ocello. I found that Ndege's creative direction had diverged from my own, and felt it was best for me to restructure my sacred business model on my own. ;alkdjf;alkjdf;aaj;al;dj;alfj;alksdjf She dumped me to rep that fucking cunt Pema Chodron a;lkjdfl;kaja...

Oops, my fingers slipped!

What just happened?

I was typing and then everything was black and I was floating in the ether, and now I have returned to my own physical form!

I must take some of the calming herbs my holistic nurse practitioner Loraxia prescribed for my disassociative spells.

Fortunately, God/dess be praised, I have a new agent. Her name is Alicia Ortega-Rivera, but she prefers to be called Kutie (yes, with a "K"--she was quite specific. During my days as a public high school English teacher--I believe the days numbered 16 before I was let go by a fascist, dry, lifeless administration--I was quite the proponent of creative spelling.)

Until yesterday, Kutie was my favorite Jamba Juice counterpersun at the Jamba Juice in Silverlake that I frequent, but after Ndege Ocello's departure I approached Kutie's nubile brown self and inquired as to whether she wouldn't rather be making $45 an hour spending her days (and, sometimes, nights--if we had to work late, of course!) with me.

She raised a delicately tattooed eyebrow and from between heavily lined lips filled in with sheer gloss came the response: "Damn, miss, is you crazy or something, eh?"

It was exactly what I'd hoped for. I slipped her a $100 and my phone number, and the rest is, as they say, history. Very recent history. Our first day of comingling creative and entrepreneurial spirits was today. Kutie arrived two and a half hours after our agreed start time, which she explained by telling me, "Damn, miss, you know my shit is on the rag, eh. I feel like sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeet." I immediately took her into my Den of Healing, which is also my breakfast nook, and administered homeopathic remedies in combination with warm packs of eucalyptus and sage. Gently, I led her to my boudoir, where she lay down in the most comfortable of all organic beds--mine, of course! It was specially designed for me by my dear friend Mayim Bialik, and features a giant sunflower hand-stitched in cruelty-free cotton across the comforter.

There Kutie slept, an expression of lovingpeace on her heavily painted face, for over six hours. I know because I sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at her for 5.75 of those hours (I had to spend fifteen minutes by myself in the bathroom for my daily self-loving ritual). By the time she awoke, she had to go back to her home in Eastern Los Angeles. I sent her out the door with $500 and instructions to go purchase the entire line of Bach's Flower Essence Remedies for herself (at a local healing store, not at that corporate behemoth Whole Foods!)

I can't wait until Kutie comes back tomorrow, ready to begin her duties as my newest agent--my fifth in as many years! I think this professional relationship will really go in a very exciting direction for both of us.

Until next I write my love letter from the heart to you, I remain,
Your beloved
Sara Benincasa
Lifecoach

Because you need me to write four different blogs.

2006-12-17T23:50:00.000-08:00

The Sara Benincasa MySpace blog, "Tub Talk With Sara B." MySpace blog, and Nerve.com SJ1000 blog on the Blog-a-Log are clearly not enough.

Nothing less than another blog will slake your thirst for my written expression.

I understand, world.

You had a rough start in life and it is a miracle that you have gotten this far, especially with such limited Internet access to my life-changing philosophy.

Shhhh, allow your tears to subside (if that is what feels safe for you).

I am here.

Everything is going to be alright.