Cheesesteaks and Soft Pretzels

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Oooh. Swimmer muscles.

Memories

I just had this momentary flash of my first job offer out of college. It was at an athletic footwear company on the other side of Philly. It was in a location where I would have needed to take the Turnpike there and back, for a cost of something like $6.30 roundtrip every day. I think it was a writing or marcom or pr job... something with words. The offer salary? $17,000. I think I figured out that after federal, state and city wage tax, minus the Turnpike toll, I wouldn't have even been able to pay for my car insurance.

Now I look at my current salary, which by Philly standards is unrealistically high, and it's astonishing to realize that nearly everyone around me is getting paid more to do the same work. Ah, the joys of compensation. Well, hopefully I'll be in charge of my own compensation soon. They still need to process my credit report to determine if I'm worthy. I'd hate it if I wasn't worthy.

Not Old

I'm still reeling from seeing my junior prom date's wedding picture in the newspaper, and realizing that he looks exactly the same in his tux 13 years later. I don't think I look anything like I did at 16, so of course this made me feel old. Really old. Ancient. But I'm not, really. Ok, some people think that 30 is the end of the world, but what the hell does age matter when you're an adult? Between 21 when you can legally drink and 65 when you collect Social Security, age is completely irrelevant. Of course, with the help of my hairdresser I hide my grayness and I'm always on the lookout for moisturizer that will hide those tiny lines around my eyes, but for the most part I'm doing well. I got honked at by a passing car the other day. I don't care if it's some sort of macho, testosterone-laden ritual, I was still delighted to know that guys didn't think I looked 30, at least not from a distance and at 35 MPH.

New Cinematic Lows

I'm almost inclined to see it, just because it sounds so incredibly bad. "Gobble, gobble"? Please! This is dialogue?

Spam

It was inevitable. My brain has been overtaken by the Monty Python spam skit. For as many times as I hear the word each day, it's remarkable that it didn't happen before this.

"Well, there's egg and spam; egg bacon and spam; egg bacon sausage and spam; spam bacon sausage and spam; spam egg spam spam bacon and spam; spam sausage spam spam bacon spam tomato and spam..."

Highlight of My Day

I ordered dog treats for my new puppy niece. She's going to love me! :-)

Naptime

I used to think that I got tired in the afternoon because I had nothing to do. Over the last few days I've been busier than ever, and I could still plant my face in the keyboard and sleep. I think I've realized that I can be bored to tears even when I'm completely busy and frazzled about looming deadlines. There is just no mental stimulation here, and I don't know how I've managed to deal with it for as long as I have.

Spam

Today's entry in the spam journal: "Find out if your mistress is cheating on you."

Do most cheaters not trust their girlfriends?

Relaxation Techniques

I think that all of the stress in the universe caught up with me today. The business, the deadlines, the approaching arrival of my brother-in-law for a week-long visit, the seemingly approaching death of my grandmother... I woke up this morning just unable to handle it all. It's too much stuff. I feel like I could cry, and that's something I hardly ever do. I just need the release. Maybe I'll go for a long walk at lunch today, just something to get me out of the office and away from my computer. What I really need is two weeks in Tahiti, but we can't have everything now, can we?

Head Up Your...

I just had a sales rep get on my case after a customer called me to try and find someone, anyone, to follow up on what she needed. The rep essentially called me an idiot in a public e-mail. Is it any surprise that I don't like sales reps?

I'm Not Drunk

I've only had 20 beers, officer.

Bob Hope

I'm not making fun of the dead, I'm making fun of Headline News. Honest.

This morning's quote: "An American Treasure is Lost. Legendary entertainer Bob Hope died last night due to complications from ammonia."

Ammonia? Was he cleaning? How the heck could you get an anchor job with CNN and not know how to pronounce pneumonia?

Mind Racing

Self-doubt sucks. It's all part of my lifelong inferiority complex, where I'm never good enough, smart enough or talented enough.

I also reek of garlic, thanks to the 25th annual Gilroy Garlic Festival. Want the most bang for your garlic buck? Get the pesto pasta. There's more garlic than spaghetti. It'll definitely get your attention and guarantee that no vampires will come for you in the night.

The puppy came over to visit tonight. She's so cute. It amazes me how she has two settings: full speed and asleep. She'll be tearing around the yard like a lunatic and then drop to the ground and sleep. 15 minutes later she's ready to go again. The kids next door were delighted to see her, and Ben, in all of his mature 6-year-old glory, was trying to teach her to do tricks, even though she has no attention span whatsoever.

Repeat after me: I can handle stress. I am strong. I can do anything I want, and do it well. I think. Maybe.

Puppies

D&T got a puppy. She's beautiful and I'm sad because I want one too.

It's Official

As of 11:30 AM PDT, I officially have a business name. Core Fitness will be coming soon to a location near you (well, a location near me, anyway).

Survival

Sometimes you just have to marvel at your ability to get through the day.

I'm in Hell

I can't even begin to explain how completely agitated I feel about work right now. I think the whole business idea is making it worse because it's a) giving me a light at the end of the tunnel, b) giving me a distraction so I don't have any inclination to work on datasheets and e-mail campaigns, and c) because I'm at a point now where it's all uncertainty, wonder and worry without the benefit of any clarity or forward motion.

I try not to worry or get too distracted, but it's hard. Nothing makes you feel as trapped as the hope for escape. In those moments you're just acutely aware of how limited everything is.

Best Porn Spam Ever

If I may quote directly:

"FEEDBACK FROM YESTERDAY MEMBERS :
I simply did not expect that so young maidens can make such things ..
It is struck as quickly they are forced to be excited you.
I would fuck all of them. My be it is possible?

And you appeared are right - that to that I have learned my girlfriend have estimated
is rather long - my dick did not smoke almost after round-the-clock sex.
My excitation was simply unknown and it only due to you .

Yes what here to speak. Go and look you see there is it not dearly for such material.
It is a lot of it, DVD quality, is looked all from the beginning up to the end - as cool good cinema."

What program did they use to translate this, and from what language? This is a classic. Paragraph 2 is really my personal favorite.

Just a Reminder

I'm trying to remind myself of some basic truths:

1) There's nothing you can do to change the past.
2) Worrying about the future won't change anything, but it will make you crazy.
3) Try to live in the moment and just appreciate what you've got, because it's really pretty good. If you stop worrying, you might notice that you enjoy the present more.

Pick Up the Phone

R, I'm starting to think that you really are a prick. I've called you nearly every day for more than a month now, and you've made no effort to call me back. Send me an e-mail. Leave me a message. Tell me to go to hell. Just do something so I don't feel compelled to try to salvage a 12-year friendship that you clearly don't give a shit about. You're driving me crazy. I'm sure that this has everything to do with inviting you out to visit and offering to pay for your flight, because of course there must be something offensive in that. After all, why should I be in any hurry to have you come for a visit? I've only been here for four years, what's the rush? I know that your excuse has always been the lack of money, but you're an AVP at a bank, I know you have to be making enough to afford a $300 flight even without my assistance, and you know that we always pay for everything when we're all together anyway (when was the last time you paid for dinner? oh, right, that year you put Cafe Zbra on your corporate card so you could expense it). I don't really have anything left to say, nothing you'll want to hear, anyway, so I'm just going to forget about it. When you snap out of your funk, feel free to give me a call. You know I'm pathetic enough that I'd actually call you back.

Ads

Every time I check my mail through Yahoo, I'm greeted with a banner for the Atkins diet that says, "FEEL SEXY NAKED by Aug. 27". Is this meant to imply that most people don't feel sexy when naked, or is it just trying to convince us all that we're just generally inadequate in the sexy department? There was a time when I was uptight about my naked appearance, but somehow over the years I've let go of it. I thought it was part of growing up. Am I just ahead of the curve? And since when does an all-meat, all-fat, no carb diet make you feel so sexy? I'm personally at my best after some good pizza or a huge plate of pasta... gotta have those carbs for energy!

This Little Piggie

It was "a ferocious little pig".

Work

Does anyone really care about any of this new crap we're releasing? We've come up with 101 variations on a theme, all of which have different datasheets and collateral, and underneath it all they're really all the same. It makes me feel so worthwhile.

Things Of My Own

I want to have things to call my own. In moments of weakness I have to admit to myself that I want the business (even though I'm trying to pretend that it's just an experiment and I'm not emotionally invested in it) and I would love to have a dog. I just want things that I can care for and have something to show for it. Of course, the unconditional love of a warm, furry dog wouldn't be a bad return on investment. Not like I have a big soft spot in my heart for dogs or anything. ;-)

Middle of Nowhere

It was 40 miles from nowhere, and felt more isolated than that. Long, open stretches through farm country, winding through empty roads where your rearview mirror looked like it had been painted black. No cars passed, no cars followed. Silence and blackness filled the world, with the exception of my own two headlights piercing the night. The rain had fallen and left the road shimmering and slick, with clusters of leaves gathering at the sides of the lanes, obscuring the double yellow line. Wipers beat time, clearing the dots from the windshield. It was just another night in oblivion, and the daybreak wouldn't come quickly enough.

Kansas

Would anyone who's ever driven through Kansas be even remotely surprised to learn that it's flatter than a pancake?

Will Blogs Change the World?

Not according to this guy, who commented on the BBC article:

"The bloggers I am already aware of seem to have all the time in the world to sit and write their hubristic and self-opinionated garbage - goodness knows how they get the day job done and its a wonder their managers haven't spotted it. Life is too short to go around reading all this stuff."

Yep, that's me. I'm all about hubristic and self-opinionated garbage.

What this guy doesn't seem to notice is that we don't all write for the benefit of other people. As far as I'm concerned, no one ever really reads this one, so it doesn't matter what I say. I'm not writing for an audience. I'm writing because the words keep coming and I need someplace to store them.

Tongues

The world's first tongue transplant. I'm all about transplanting and organ donation, but I can't help but think that it would be terribly weird to be the recipient of a transplant that you can see and touch. Internal organs somehow seem psychologically easier to deal with because you never really have to face them.

Another Day at the Office

We had a group lunch today, which only consisted of my new boss, E, and coworker G. E, since she's new to the company, wanted to know about different people and what we thought of them. This reminded me of several stories about the work folks, including this one.

I had come here for my interview and needed to meet the rest of the team. My old boss brings in the web guy, who I'll call Neil. He's 6'9", has one eye that looks in a completely different direction and speaks sort of slowly and quietly, as though he's trying to think really hard before uttering each syllable. On the day we met, he was wearing a baseball cap, but it was sitting sort of crooked on his head (not intentionally so, but like he just couldn't make it align with his face). He came in, introduced himself, and my first thought was, "Oh, how interesting. They hired a mentally handicapped man to be their web guy. Must be some sort of an outreach program." Of course, there hasn't been much in my experience with him that really convinced me that my initial perception was incorrect, but I'm told that he is "normal". I never would have guessed.

'Til the End

You're still fighting. Somehow you won't let go in spite of how exhausted, in spite of all the pain. I don't know why you continue to fight. Mom is terrified, horrified, powerless, stuggling to comprehend how you can suffer so much even when in the care of medical professionals. She watches your chest heave as you struggle to catch your next breath, and cries because she can't stand to watch it and can't let go.

It's about time now. Time is running out and I don't know if I should be there with you, or even if I could make it there in time if I tried. I'm sorry. But I hope that you know I'm thinking of you.

Gone

You're not there anymore. I talk to you on the phone and you barely know that it's me. I don't know who the woman is in that hospital room, but she's not my grandmother. She lets people call her Elizabeth and doesn't correct them. I don't know this woman.

I realize that there are many things I'll never be able to ask you. I'll never be able to ask you about the night you met granddad at the USO dance. I'll never be able to ask you about winning the track meet in high school. I realize that when I'm one day diagnosed with breast cancer, as my genetic code would indicate, I'll never be able to ask you about your battle with cancer and how you reacted to the mastectomy when you were barely out of your 30s. I'll never know any of these things about you because my grandmother, Betty, isn't there to answer questions anymore. All that's left is a frail ghost that answers to the name of Elizabeth.

In Business

After moving J&K to their lovely new house this morning (and in record time -- a full truck unloaded in 17 minutes!), I've spent the rest of my day sweating, chugging Gatorade and plodding through always-changing spreadsheets. I have to ship this stuff off to the accountant on Monday, so I need to get it all in line. I also need to write a business plan, but getting that project underway seems so daunting right now. It's not that I can't do it, it's just that I'm starting to worry that this lovely venture is starting to take over my life. And I still don't know if I can do it or not.

The funniest part of all of this is that I never thought I was particularly good at marketing, and yet I've had so many ideas for loyalty programs and promotions that I've had to start writing them down for fear I'd forget. I suspect that I just haven't had the proper motivation before.

I keep having dreams about failure. I'm constantly getting lost or failing to finish the project/race/etc. I know it's just symbolic of my fear, but I wake up in the morning completely exhausted. I can't let it beat me. I can do this, right? Who, me? Insecure? Never.

Maybe if I take a nap I'll be more refreshed for writing the business plan. Or maybe I'm just a lazy-ass procrastinator.

A Perfect Character

I had a response to my lesbian personal ad that I set up on Yahoo personals (I have three: one that is exactly me with no lies, one that's a lesbian and one that's a short Asian woman... I figure this should offer an interesting contrast).

This woman, a 5'2" blonde of 37, is looking for a playmate for her and her husband, a 6' athletic-build 40-year-old. They're hoping to meet me to see if the sparks fly. evidently he just wants to watch at first, but she wants him to "be there" for her ultimately.

God help me, I couldn't make up more creative responses.

Hair

Haircut tonight, or more importantly, hair color. I remain horrified that I have these awful gray roots. Christ, I'm only 30. I don't even think my mother had to start coloring her hair so early.

Someday I'll be daring (daring for me is mainstream for the rest of the world) and get highlights. Let's give my hair that sun-kissed look, even though I'm paler than an Alaskan in January. For as white as I am, I'm surprised I even cast a shadow.

Chocolate

My chocolate candies have messages inside the wrappers: "Life without chocolate is too terrible to contemplate." Uh-huh. Now that's some serious marketing for you. Nothing like convincing chocoholics that they should keep eating.

Brown Bags

I made a snide comment today about the VP and his brown bag lunch, but nobody really heard or paid attention or understood (I'm not sure which). I wasn't really intending to comment at all, it just happened. Hell, that's the kind of thing that's too outlandish to believe without photo evidence.

Here We Go

I made contact with the accountant today. This is the first step in really moving forward with the business idea. It's relieving and intimidating at the same time. I don't want to sound like an idiot in front of this guy, but hopefully he'll be gracious in pointing out my flawed judgements and number errors.

I suppose this means I should spend my weekend developing a full-fledged business plan. Hell, I should whip out the laptop and do it now.

What do I do if this doesn't work out? What if he tells me that there's no way in hell that this can be profitable? What if it just all falls through? Or what if I get it up and running, only to fail miserably in the end? I'd like to believe that it's better to try and fail at your own endeavor than to succeed at some boring, mindless corporate gig, but the fear of failure at any level looms large. Do I really think that my friends and family will disown me if I fail? No, not remotely, but I also don't want to disappoint them. Isn't that pathetic? Even when it comes down to my own business, there's still part of me that worries about Them. I really need to get over that, but I suspect it's too deeply rooted in my personality.

Do successful people ever really care what others think?

Anorexia

Even when I was at my thinnest, I've got to believe that I looked better than this. Anorexia, anyone? When your arms look like toothpicks, it's time to hit the candy aisle at the 7-11.

More Answers

Oh, so now the rules have changed. ;-) Ok, so now I have to provide a list of five that I know and five famous women. The five "real" people will be encoded, for fear that the answers may one day come back and bite me in the ass. :-)

The Five "Real" Men:

1. The one with the beautiful eyes, blonde hair, fabulous intelligence and wicked sense of humor. (Wait, that describes three of them....)
2. The younger brother of my friend. I've still not forgotten that first kiss... or the second first kiss two years later.
3. MB. I had a crush on you from the first day of college, you know. After all that time there was no way reality would be any better than what I'd imagined, but I still should have given it a try.
4. KS. I was too competitive with you in high school, so I never even noticed you until we'd gone off to college. Or maybe I developed a progressive weakness for light-eyed blondes.
5. Hmmm... since my 1st one described three of them, I don't have a number 5. But I will specifically note that BJO is not on the list. Looks like I've outgrown you, babe. Maybe that happened when I realized you were accused of police brutality.

The Five Women:

1. Willow from the later seasons of Buffy (not specifically Alyson Hannigan, but rather the empowered, smart and witty chick that she becomes in seasons 5 and 6).
2. Jennifer Garner from Alias.
3. Kylie Minogue -- could anyone possibly not think she was hot after that video?
4. Demi Moore. May we all look so good at 40.
5. Jennifer Connelly. She's unbelievably pretty, if you ask me.

The Answers

My friend's question: "Name five famous men that you wouldn't kick out of your bed". They have to be famous? I much prefer selecting ones I know. Do they have to be my top five? And why do they have to be men? ;-)

Answers (in no particular order):

1. James Marsters (aka Spike). Ok, that one happens to be in a particular order, and could count for all of my top 5 selections.
2. Owen Nolan. How could the Sharks have traded you immediately after you made eye contact and smiled at me? Come back!
3. Will Smith. Maybe it's because he's a Philly boy. Maybe it's his sense of humor. Nah, it might just be his muscular arms.
4. Derek Jeter. No, I'm not a 16-year-old girl in the Bronx. But the boy's got gorgeous eyes, and nearly all Yankee fans like him, grudgingly.
5a. Pierce Brosnan. He's James Bond, for god's sake. And he's got an Irish accent. Can't ask for much more.
5b. Harrison Ford. Ok, he's collecting social security and dating Ally McBeal... but he's still cool.

Lunch

I was thinking about going to the liquor store for lunch. Anyone want to join me?

I don't think I'll ever get over the shock of that one. I may have to spend all of my lunch hours skulking around that parking lot with my camera for the benefit of HR. Behold, the VP in his natural habitat, clutching a bottle while crashed in the driver's seat. It could be like a Discovery Channel special.

Names

Because I have the natural inclination to get way ahead of myself, I've been brainstorming about names for the studio, if and when I get this off the ground. I definitely don't want any name that implies that it's a girlie-girl operation. Women will naturally be the larger part of the clientele, but I think the current studio's name and dancing woman logo steers most men in the opposite direction. I'm thinking of something like Core Fitness or Core Strength or something like that. Really, the 'core' concept is at the heart of most fitness these days, the idea that a strong back and strong abs will carry you through life and help you do everything better. It could encompass everything from pilates to yoga to tai chi and even aerobics, really.

I have all sorts of ideas: men's classes, teen classes, nutrition workshops, bringing in teams to do balance exercises... there's really no end to the potential of this sort of thing, and it's up to me to figure out how to make it work. What helps is that it's something I believe in. It's not like selling patio furniture or insurance.

I'm really in over my head with this, aren't I? (Just say yes, I won't be offended.)

The Recession is Over!

Thank god there are economists to tell me that the recession ended in 2001.

I'll be sure to run right out and get a less crappy job -- I don't know why I haven't been able to find one for the last two years. I must just be terribly lazy. Same could be said for my unemployed friends, too. What have we all been thinking? Let's just go out and get work!

Floorplans

I'm eagerly awaiting the floor plans for a studio location that's not where I initially wanted it to be, but has better space than the current location. I just don't know if moving the studio from the current area will do damage to the enrollment (on the flip side, though, it might bring in new enrollment... hard to tell where the value is).

My mind is constantly spinning, I spend hours staring at spreadsheets which change dramatically from day to day, and I'm constantly hungry (it's like my body's been jerked out of hibernation). This thing is either going to make me insane or make me happy, and I don't know which.

A Healthy Lunch

Today I watched a VP visit a liquor store, head out to his car with a bottle, and proceed to drink his lunch from a brown bag-covered bottle while sitting in the driver's seat of his car in an open and busy parking lot. That's just frightening. I think that has to be the point at which you realize you've got a serious problem.

Truth is Always Stranger Than Fiction

Leaving McDonalds, I hold the door for the person coming behind me. The guy says thank you, sort of half-gasps, half-whistles, and says to me, "Forgive me for asking, but would you mind if I grabbed your ass?" Uhhh, is there any response to this other than running like hell? I sort of stammered, "Uh, no, I don't think so." He looked disappointed but told me to have a nice day anyway. I ran to my car and promptly used my seat cushion to protect my rear end from unsolicited grabs. What's his life philosophy, carpe gluteus?

Challenges

There's something inherently difficult about trying to do all of this startup business research while at work. I feel like I'm not focusing on either thing properly.

I think I need to factor in for getting an office manager to work part-time and respond to calls and questions, do some basic accounting, etc. If I did that, at least for the first three months or so, I'd be able to keep my job as a hedge against failure (the longer I work, the more money I have to put into the business). Maybe it's not practical. I don't know for sure. I don't know if anything is practical anymore. They say that you shouldn't expect a business to turn a profit in the first year, yet it seems to me that this isn't impossible. Am I dreaming?

I feel like running, which is remarkable because I'm not even remotely a runner. I have softball tomorrow night at (you'll love this) 10:10PM. Blech. So tomorrow will be my serious workout day, because I have a session with M in the afternoon and then softball at night. That's not a bad thing, really. Hey, if I want to get into a business based on fitness, it's going to have to be a focus for me.

No More Knives

I did a really good job of slicing my finger open tonight. I really shouldn't be allowed to handle sharp objects. I do much better with gentler things. I do less damage to myself that way.

So Much for Planning

So as of Friday of last week, I had spoken with the wives of two couples who wanted to have a vacation picture party where we show off all of our beautiful photos. Everyone was good for Sunday, 7/20. I just sent out an e-mail and discovered that one of the couples is moving that day (hello? didn't you know this three days ago?) and the other will be out of town. I feel like I missed a memo somewhere along the way.

Monday Chaos

So in an attempt to fish around for more details for my cost-feasability spreadsheet for the business, I faxed an inquiry to an ad in the paper. Don't you know that the person at the other end is the owner of the current studio? I really didn't want to get into this with her, not yet. I wanted to have all of my financial plans locked up to know if it was worthwhile or not before having to face the old management. But now I need to return her call. I just wasn't prepared for this. I'll have to call her back sometime today when I have the nerve, but that might take a while.

The Lesbians

I was at the airport, waiting for C to get off the plane, and right in front of me these lesbians started making out. Now, I'm not commenting on this specifically because they're lesbians -- the amount of groping, fondling and kissing that was going on would have been noteworthy even in a heterosexual couple -- but these two were totally going at it in the middle of the baggage claim area. Tongues, hands up shirts, fondling each other's breasts... it was quite a sight to behold. Needless to say, every guy within 300 feet had stopped dead in his tracks to watch this. Can't say I blame them: they were both hot and very feminine-looking. So that was really the most eventful part of my evening. Not exactly something from my world specifically, but I thought it was worth sharing.

Character Excerpts

He looked at her, knowing that she had good reason not to trust. Beautiful women learn early in life that men aren't to be trusted. He took her hand in his, astonished by how small it felt, delighted by the softness of her skin.

"I want you," he whispered. "But I'll go home now. I'll live with what we have because I love it and I love you and I don't want to do anything to lose you now." She started to interrupt, but he placed a finger on her lips to silence her. "For as much as I want to make love to you and feel your body naked against mine, I know from experience that sex alone never brings you closer. It's usually been the beginning of the end. I don't want this to end. Not tonight. Not ever. I'll do what it takes to protect that bond between us."

He pulled her close and kissed her, his passion unmistakable. She loved him more deeply than she expected, and with each moment they shared she grew more overwhelmed by her feelings for him. There were a thousand tangible reasons why they shouldn't be together, and a million intangible reasons why they could never be apart.

Permanent Lack of Confidence

Is there any way in the world that I can really start my own business? This isn't like doing my freelance thing back in Jersey. This is a real business. Employees, storefront, taxes... this is complicated and scary. But at the same time, I'd desperately love to know that I have something of my own. I think that the only thing that's holding me back now is my own fear. I don't know that I can overcome that. I don't know that I'm strong enough to take it on. But will I regret it all if I don't? Is this my one chance to do something dramatically different?

Wanting

I want to call you, but you're not there. You probably wouldn't answer if you were. I'm not the one you want to talk to. I have nothing to offer you except my love and friendship, and you need neither. But I'm thinking about you. More than I'd like to admit. I don't want to think about you. And yet, in spite of that, I want to hold you. Why do I feel like this?

Worst Movie Ever?

Saturday Night Fever is on TV. I'd never seen it before. This is a classic? It's awful.

Farfetched Ideas

Had breakfast with my instrcutor M after class. We dicussed all of the complexities of operating a studio and whether or not it would be practical. She seems to think that I can do it. She actually said, "You're smart enough to pull this off. You just have to decide if you really want it or not." Uh, very complex question to ask. Yes, I do want it, but.... There's a lot of complexity to operating a business that I don't really understand. It's intimidating. And for some reason one of the elements that I really don't want to do is create my own web page. I have no idea why, probably because I hate working on creative projects when I'm that close to it. Wouldn't it be pathetic if I had to contract out for it?

Electronic Friends

How has it happened that I rarely communicate with any of my friends outside of e-mail? It's so rare that I actually pick up a phone to call, and when I do, I usually end up talking to a machine. I swear that I have better relationships with my distant friends that I communicate with solely through e-mail than I do with friends who live in the same neighborhood. It's sort of sad and scary all at the same time. Even more pathetic is the fact that I'm online blogging on a Friday night and I wonder why my friends aren't doing the same (could they have lives? oh my god, what a shock!)

I'm tired. It's more of a physically and emotionally tired than a sleepy. I can't explain why I've been so devoid of even the most basic energy since last weekend. I don't think I'm sick, so it's likely that the whole thing is just in my head. A mind is a terrible thing to let you get wasted.

Fluids

Back to the grandmom saga: it's fluid in the heart and lungs again, which could be congestive heart failure or it could be pneumonia. Neither one is a good thing, but on the somewhat bright side, her stay in the hospital will enable my mother to come home and live with my father for a few days, and actually be able to sleep through the night. There's just no way that it's humanly possible for any one person to be the full-time 24-hour caregiver for someone like she's doing for my grandmother. It scares the crap out of me to think that something could go wrong with her, too, from all of the stress and upset.

Grandmothers

My grandmother is back in the hospital today. Here's the weird part: I woke up kind of knowing that something wasn't right, and when my phone rang I knew it was my father even before I answered (no, I wasn't looking at the caller ID). My new boss says to take all the time I need. I laughed. I said, "Clearly you haven't been going through this with me for the last year and a half. If I took time off every time something went wrong with her, I'd never go to work." But anyway, it's nice to just be able to take the morning slowly and not have to worry about getting to the office and focusing on conference calls or anything like that. I do appreciate that.

I don't know if this is it. Sounds like congestive heart failure again, which would certainly explain how disoriented she's been lately. I hate to say this because of how awful it sounds, but I almost wish that she'd die. She's so unhappy, so uncomfortable and just so weak. I don't want to see her kept alive by the miracle of modern pharmaceuticals, because as far as I'm concerned, her current condition is not really alive. She's barely more than a zombie right now. If you knew her in her prime, you'd understand how disturbing that is. So I'm very torn between the fact that there's a woman in her house with a heartbeat and a pulse, but that the woman is not the grandmother I knew. My grandmother is gone, and will never come back. All she left behind was this hollow shell, and I just don't feel as much obligation and attachment to that remnant of her.

Headaches and Dreams

I dozed off on the couch and had a dream that I woke up to find myself covered in bruises. I asked my roommate (dream roommate, as I don't actually have one in real life) and she said that they came from my broken heart. I was devastated that I was so hurt by it, and that everyone would know that my true love had left me... I didn't want them asking questions that caused me more pain. But I was so crushed, and I just wanted my roommate to leave me alone so I could grieve. I awakened moments later with a raging headache and an amazing sadness that I just can't explain.

Please

Someone, please get me out of here. I swear it's draining the life out of me.

Personal Ads

While I may be an evil wench for doing this, I've posted personal ads to find men that I can use as characters in my writing. Dating is out of the question, unless they're uncircumcized, but that's a story for another time.

Anyway, the responses I've gotten have been, at best, semi-literate. Mispellings, inability to follow basic rules of grammar and strange opening lines. Like, "Hi, I'm Doug, click on my profile to learn more about me." Gee, Doug, I really appreciate your willingness to create an interesting opening line there, babe. I can see why the bar scene wasn't working for you.

Everyone asks the same question: what do you do? I've taken to telling them that I work two jobs, as a librarian and dominatrix. It has a tendency to stop them in their tracks. What I should say is that I fantasize about semi-literate men for a living. I don't know, I always expected the responses to be funny and sharp and show signs of intelligence, but maybe I've been foolishly basing this expectation on a single male friend of mine who displays all of these qualities. Let's face it, if they were all like him, my friends wouldn't be whining about being single.

One of my friends met a guy online. He was 39 and lived in a shabby apartment with a roommate, where these two grown adults slept in bunk beds. He seemed to think it was a crowning glory that he had the top bunk. They also had green astroturf as their living room carpet, and a sofa that looked like it had been salvaged from a college dumpster after a particularly rough semester. So remind me again why I thought the guys I'd meet through the personals would be any more interesting?

I'm so glad I don't have to date anymore. Granted, I desperately miss the thrill of a first kiss, how the air electrifies just before your lips meet, and the first time these strange hands explore your body... ok, I digress. But you have to admit it: that moment is really excellent. Back in the old days I had a friend/occasional hookup buddy; there was enough time between our encounters that every time was like a first kiss. God, that was cool. (Hello? Topic? I know I had a topic, it just seems to be eluding me as I drift down memory lane.)

Anyway, back to online dating. So all of these guys seem to think I'm funny and brilliant. Where were they when I was 20 and would have given anything to be funny and brilliant? I wonder if they'd think I was pretty and/or sexy if they were to see my picture. We'll never know, will we?

Hello? R?

To my best friend R:

Hello? You never call, you never write. What's the deal? I've ruled out all of the ordinary issues: that I've somehow slighted you, that I haven't called enough, or that I didn't get you a good enough gift for your birthday. I don't think it's any of them. I suspect it's just out of sight, out of mind. But that doesn't change the fact that it would be nice if you returned my calls. I invited you to C's surprise party. I've even offered to buy you a ticket to come out here. Nothing. A response would be nice. An acknowledgement of my generosity. A sign that, after four years, you actually do want to come to California and visit, not just talk about doing it but never following through. Christ, we've been through a hell of a lot together in the last 12 years. You were my best man, for god's sake. So why the hell don't you ever call back? I know, I'm whining, but it's been two... no three months since you last returned a call. I just want to know that you're ok and weren't hit by a city bus or anything. Just call me. Please?

Morning Commute

Well, that was an adventure. I just spent more than two hours on the road delivering C to SFO for his flight. The trip to the airport was easy because of the carpool lane, but the return trip was just me, and had me passing through some seriously nasty post-accident tie-ups. So now I'm just plain tired, although I probably felt the same way before I left the house. I just can't seem to sleep enough lately. I woke up at 5AM today convinced that someone was ringing my doorbell (which, of course, they weren't). It's like my brain is pumping on all cylinders even when I sleep, so I'm getting no rest.

Whiner

Every night before C leaves for a business trip, I get all whiny and miserable and clingy. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, since it happens all the time, but every single time I still feel completely abandoned. I really need to get over it. But it's just that I feel safer when we're together. I don't have to worry about some Jersey driver running over him on the Parkway. I don't have to worry about electrical problems in Boeing aircraft. I don't have to worry about fugitives breaking into my basement at 2AM. I don't have to worry about anything because he's here and whatever happens we go through it together. And then, as usual, he's gone for 3, 5 or 7 days, and I learn to adapt, grudgingly. I put on a happy face and meet him at the airport on his return, glad he's home but still hurt that he left. And the cycle begins again.

One-on-One

I have a one-on-one meeting with the boss in 15 minutes, and for some reason I'm incredibly nervous. On a whole-group staff call this morning there was an endless amount of stuff that our director was earmarking as projects for our group, so I think I'm anticipating the fact that by the time this meeting is over, I'm going to be drowning in a sea of tedious projects that no one else wanted to do. After all, shit rolls downhill, and guess who's standing at the bottom of the hill?

Revelation

I've been trying so hard to come up with a topic to write about, and it was right in front of me all along: my office. There's no shortage of quirky characters or situations (although I would have to fictionalize some of them, because no one would believe the truth...) and god knows that everyone can relate to a tragicomic Dilbert-esque tale of office politics. This just might be the idea I've been looking for. Oh, and if I threw in a few of the lunatics from my last job... it would be like taking a virtual walk through a silicon valley zoo.

Whoa!

The results of NASA's foam/wing impact tests seeem to have come up with some dramatic results. Yeah, I'd be willing to bet that a 16" hole in the insulating tiles would be enough to incinerate the wing on re-entry. I just can't imagine that they didn't realize that this foam insulation had such potential to cause problems. I guess it's just remarkable that it hadn't happened before.

As one of the many kids who sat glued to the tv watching shuttle launches in the 1980s, there's some aspect of this that's just devastating to my childish belief that we were so smart and technologically advanced to be able to send people into space in reusable shuttles. I believed it was safe. Yet when you realize that something as trivial as falling foam can lead to the demise of a spacecraft and the end of seven lives... it just shakes your faith in things. Everything is vulnerable.

Job Hunting

They say that networking is your best job-hunting tool, but what if you have really lousy contacts who don't have any affiliation to anything you're interested in? That leaves Monster.com, and we know that doesn't get you far. I'd consider temp work -- I do a very good job of answering phones -- but I'm told that even that is terribly competitive because of all the unemployed/underemployed people in the area.

Speaking of unemployed, S wants to have lunch this week. He's been out of work for more than two years now, with just a semi-recurrent gig as the admin at a small technology company. I have a hard time talking to him because he'll say things like, "I'm thinking of starting to look for a job." Granted, there's nothing out there, but I want him to seem like he's actually trying. This "thinking about it" thing is just ridiculous.

I wish there was something out there that I was qualified to do. It's funny. When I was younger, I thought I was smart, but I was totally self-conscious about my appearance. Now that I'm ok with my appearance, I'm convinced that I'm not very bright and that I don't have many opportunities open to me.

For RE

This is just an open letter to RE, a coworker whose wife died this weekend after a lengthy battle with cancer.

They say that life goes on, but it doesn't. Not really. The sun will still rise, the stars will still pierce the black night sky, and your heart will still maintain a rhythmic beat. But life, as you know it, has ended. From the moment of her last breath, you were faced with the challenge of a new life, one touched by the memory of a past that now surrounds you, yet seems a million years away. This life starts as an uphill battle, facing the challenge of going through it all alone. It seems impossible, like Sisyphus endlessly pushing the rock uphill, but one day you will realize that the rock seems just a little smaller and the hill seems just a bit less steep.

For her, she gains immortality; her life will go on forever. I don't mean this in the conventional sense of heaven and hell and Christian religion. I believe that the legacy of our lives is maintained through the lives that we touch. We live on in the hearts and minds of those we've loved, and as long as they retain a part of us in memory, we are in some way immortal. They will remember us at our most vibrant, our most brilliant, our most beautiful. They will remember the first time they saw us, or the first time we touched, and in those moments of remembrance we are as alive and vivid as if we are by their side.

She will still be with you, but the path you chart from today forward is your own. Your life begins today.

Because There's Always a Song...

Haven't heard this one in ages, but the words are clear in my head. It's Sting:

Sometimes I see your face,
The stars seem to lose their place
Why must I think of you?
Why must I?
Why should I?
Why should I cry for you?
Why would you want me to?
And what would it mean to say,
That, "I loved you in my fashion"?
What would be true?
Why should I?
Why should I cry for you?

The Battle

All weekend long I've been fighting myself. All of my best intentions are there -- I want to write, exercise, eat healthy food -- but instead I just do all the wrong things and end up feeling worse about them than I did before. So what's my obstacle? I haven't felt this paralyzed since I started taking the Celexa last year. Has it stopped working?

The Harvest

A few months back we planted the garden, featuring onions. I swear I only planted maybe 10 or 15 of them, but when I just harvested them today there's 30-40 of them. I guess I'll be eating onions until hell freezes over.

The Song in My Head

There's always a song in my head. Sometimes it sticks there for days. Other times they change quickly. In just minutes I've gone from Tequila Sunrise to They Might Be Giants' Birdhouse in Your Soul:

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

If that song doesn't remind me of freshman year of college, I don't know what does.

Compliments of The Eagles....

Take another shot of courage
Wonder why the right words never come,
You just get numb
It's another tequila sunrise
This old world still looks the same

How Weird

My name, which my parents made up, turns out to be Finnish. Yet when I look it up on those ever-detailed baby name dictionaries, it says that my name is either Spanish or Ukranian (both meaning "noble"), or Italian (meaning "wise counselor").

Won't You Be My Neighbor?
I need someone to play with. My little Benjamin is gone for 15 days. I don't have anyone sharing their toys or asking me an endless stream of questions. You'd think it would be peaceful, but it's surprisingly lonely.

Unrelated Scientific Findings

First they say that folic acid (folate) prevents birth defects. Now they say that too little folate can cause depression. Is it possible that nature has a way of weeding out pregnancies in depressed women because they can't handle it? It seems to me that there's got to be a connection here.

Aaaaggghhh!
I'm so bored that I might actually go insane.

Trying to Write

I should probably acknowledge that writing is insanely hard for me (which is what drew me to it in the first place) and that I'm really not cut out for it. I've tried to write a page or two today, and there's just nothing creative there. Even worse, what I've put down on paper isn't even well-written. That's probably the most frustrating part.

Curious

One observation from last night with the Scandinavians: the guy didn't seem to hesitate to flirt openly with me, right in front of his wife. Now, I realize that some cultures are more open about that sort of thing than others, but it seems to me that if I was his young, gorgeous wife I'd be more than a little hurt that he was giving every indication of being interested in another woman more than me. I think it would be even worse if the other woman was older, had glasses and was dressed all dumpy. But I guess there's never any way to explain how relationships work to outsiders.

The Morning After

I feel like I've been run over by a truck. My eyes are puffy. My rings are tight on my fingers. I have no inclination to do anything other than lounge around and sleep... or maybe read. I didn't even go to the studio this morning to work out. Clearly I'm feeling like a slug.

Last night, I couldn't get over the wife of this one guy that came to T & D's party. She walks in, speaks to no one, and then plants herself on the back steps and starts reading a book. Could you make it any more clear that you don't want to interact with anyone? Even the Scandinavians made more effort to interact with people, in spite of the slight language barrier and the lack of conversational topics.

The highlight of the afternoon had to be watching M deep-fry a turkey. I'd heard about fried turkeys, but I'd never seen it happen. Quite an interesting visual. The oil bubbles like a geyser at Yellowstone, which of course was a total hit with a party full of engineers.

Today is the 5th. I have one day less than two months until we leave for Europe. I'd really like to have the bulk of a book written by then. Hell, I'd even self-publish if I had to, just for the sake of saying that I'd done it. It's not easy to do, I realize, but I'd really like to give it a shot.

Hmmm. I just realized (or remembered) that C is away for 5 days next week, Wednesday - Sunday. That should offer some free time for the writing. Or, more likely, I'll just be sitting at my computer e-mailing friends.

My Boy

My 6-year-old neighbor is going to his grandmother's for 15 days starting tomorrow. He's evidently decided that I can't live without him, so he's been spending all sorts of quality time with me. He even sat on my lap at the fireworks tonight (little did I know that both of my legs had fallen asleep... and then I tried to stand up) and asked a billion questions about fireworks, laws of physics, the moon and weather patterns. The mother of one of his friends says to me, "Wow, you really make a much better mother than I do." It was odd to hear since I just never thought that I'd be an even remotely decent parent.

So anyway, I'll be without my darling Benjamin for 15 days. That's 15 days where I won't have anyone waiting at my front door asking if we can search Google for dinosaurs. 15 days without anyone trying to stand on my recycling can to spy on the neighborhood. 15 days without anyone asking me unusually complicated questions about the universe that I don't know the answer to. Yep, I'm going to miss him.

Leave

I need to find some way to take a leave of absence from my job. Doesn't "sick of work" count as sick? No? Bummer. I just think that if I had some amount of time off, I'd return far more refreshed than I have been. Or maybe I wouldn't return at all. But they don't need to know that, do they? I just want to travel and write and be generally more engaged with my life than I have been. I want to find out that I have some sort of life passion, but when I'm here it's like that fire is burned out. There's just nothing driving me anymore.

Enough whining for now. I should walk down to McDonalds and get some lunch. Those new salads really aren't all that bad. I've been pleasantly surprised.

Holidays

Companies should come to grips with the fact that nobody works on the day before the holiday. The 11 people who are actually here in the office have spent inordinate amounts of time standing in the kitchen studying the box of donuts (as though if you wait long enough, your jelly-filled favorite will magically appear). And management should understand that even if the 11 people wanted to work today, we don't have enough other people in the office to actually accomplish anything. They should just send out a morning e-mail that says, "Hey, we were just kidding about that working thing. Go home, take it easy."

The cycle is repeating itself at offices across the bay area. My friend just sent me the link to the Creationist Science Fair. I'll leave the editorial commentary up to you.

This holiday weekend five years ago was wedding weekend. We had two of them, although we declined the one in Miami on the 4th because that would have meant abandoning my good friend's wedding on the 3rd. So here it is, half a decade later, and as of today she has three kids under the age of three (the twins and the new baby). I love her dearly and think her kids are the best, but if I had three kids that young, I'd probably have to be institutionalized. Maybe I'm just speaking from my own experience, but I liked being an only child and would be perfectly happy to stop at just one (if I ever got started in the first place). But I still think I'd rather have dogs than kids. I'm not sure what's wrong with me; clearly I lack the biological imperative for me to fulfill my human destiny.

Seems like I'm just drifting from topic to topic today. Clearly my brain has already started to celebrate the holiday by tuning out completely. Not that it's ever really here in full strength anyway.

Interesting Observations

I was listening to NPR on the way into work, and they had a writer's forum where four or five authors were chatting about the process of writing (I have no idea who they were because I missed the introductions). One said that he feared writing certain things because they would invariably be attributed to him, as though this abuse/violence/etc. had happened to him in his own life. Another said that when you go back and reread your work years later you're usually embarrassed by it, because you can see the fabric of your life at the time interwoven into the story, like dust in an old blanket that shakes loose as you unfold it. That's interesting to me. I've alwayss sort of feared writing about anything having to do with mothers because my mother would automatically assume that it was her that I was writing about (even if I wrote a story, like White Oleander, where the mother was a poet and imprisoned for murdering a boyfriend... somehow she would think that this was reflective of her).

Writing is really something fascinating. We all have the same words to choose from in the English language. What sets each writer apart is the way he or she arranges them. It's like Legos: once you have enough pieces, you can make anything, and no two people would do it exactly the same way. So that's really the challenge of writing. Everyone has covered the territory that you're going to cover. There are no truly new stories to tell. The challenge is telling the story in a memorable style, creating characters that seem to leave the pages and walk around in your bedroom like actors in your own private play.

I want a dog.

What do I do?

My mother just called, crying, as usual. She's typically hysterical from the stress of full-time care of her mother, plus probably the hormonal swings of menopause, plus a nasty case of depression. But today she started crying right from the start. She's having one of those moments where she's coming to grips with the realization that my grandmother is, in fact, dying (albeit slowly, but clearly dying). She puts me on the phone with grandmom and she's got no strength in her voice, and she's asking me how I liked going to the shore... as though I'm living in the northeast and spending my weekends on a beach in NJ. She's just not there anymore, and I can't see that there's anyplace left to go, but I thought that a year and a half ago when she was infinitely stronger in comparison. I'm actually not sure who will die first: my grandmother from deterioration or my mother from stress and depression. It wouldn't surprise me to get a call that my mother has had a heart attack, and that's the part that really scares me, especially this week while dad's in London on business. So of course, I'm more than a little stressed out about that. Is it any wonder that I'm feeling all claustrophobic, headachy and angst-filled?

Plotting

I find myself spending more and more time plotting and fantasizing about getting out of here. Now, of course you would say that I could just quit, but I have this panic and anxiety about just becoming a housewife, which means that I need to find something to do with my time before I can get out. The problem is that there isn't much out there. I wonder what the going hourly rate is for temp work these days?

I had applied to do some freelance work for a jewelry company, since my background was compatible and I could basically write their stuff in my sleep. So in the process of working through the details of this project, they ask me to fill out a "quick questionnaire". Sure no problem. So what is it? It's 24 pages of psychological testing. "In the last year you have purchased how many 'hot' or stolen items: 0, 1-2, 3-5, 6-10, 11-20, more than 20" or "I am provoked to physical violence: more often than average, average, less often than average". What the hell? Several people have advised me to fill the answers out like a psychopath, but I think I'm going to opt for sending them an e-mail and telling them that it's not worth my two to three hours of Q&A time to do freelance work for a company that has so little trust in its employees and consultants.

So I'm back to square one again, with no real plans for how to get out. Do you think they need someone to bag groceries at the Safeway? Or maybe I could work at Jamba Juice... although the constant whirr of the blenders would probably do nothing to help the headache I've had for two days now. If all else fails, there's always Barnes & Noble. Yes, I'm desperate for creative suggestions.