tracking

My ipod mini has officially travelled more than I have. It started in Shanghai, moved on to the Philippines, and is currently in Japan.

I've got to get my passport. Especially if I'm going to hitchhike my way through the Galaxy.

DON'T PANIC

Oh, and I thought Mos Def was cool before, with his intellectual movies, broadway shows, and revival of poetry.

Now he has made it to god status in my world.

That's right, he is the lead character in the new movie based on my favorite book. The only book I have read more than five times.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. If you have not read this book, stop now, do not pass go, and get yourself a copy. The best part is, you won't have to read the book to love the movie. The book is actually based on a radio show. It was media first!

Oh, who's voice will play Marvin the Robot? I'm all aquiver in anticipation...

accolades

How do you go to sleep after watching the Oscars? Lordy, the drama, the excitement, the buildup, the letdown, the winners.

I cried for Jamie Foxx when he talked about his grandmother. I laughed when Chris Rock stood in for Katherine Zeta Jones. I winced when Beyonce sang not just one or two, but three of the Oscar nominated songs. I cheered when Sideways actually got to win an Oscar.

I felt bad that so many award winners thanked Marty Scorcese for Aviator, but yet I always really believed that Clint Eastwood deserved the Oscar. I was pleasantly surprised that Hilary Swank won her second. I was overwhelmed with joy to see Charlie Kaufman receive an award, as I feel he is truly inspired and a film revolutionary of our age.

Many people love to watch these award shows to experience glamor, have a taste of fame. I dream of someday being able to make an influence on many lives. To make a difference. I continue to look for my swan song.

time heals all wounds

Last night I went out to the Village Tavern to celebrate a friend's venture to a new job. She is good people; so all kinds of colleagues and buddies came out of the woodwork to wish her well. Including two pieces of rockstar kryptonite.

The first was mr boxer. I give him this title for two reasons: First of all, he prides himself in the fact that he was a bouncer when he was younger, and currently boxes as a hobby. Secondly, once I went around asking people to tell a funny story, and his was, in graphic detail, how he bashed someone's head in. Ummmmmm...ha?

Mr boxer and I had a bit of a falling out last year. I have been organizing an annual white water rafting trip in West Virginia for about five years, and based on his anti-social and rude behavior two years ago I told him last year that he was not welcome to join us. He got very very pissed at me, we had a nice long discussion, and he ended it with a pleasant "then go fuck yourself." After that he stopped going to the bar with our group of friends, and eventually I stopped even inviting him.

The second gentleman was mr betrayal. Two years ago he had started working at my company, and we became friends. In order for him to get a raise and not have to quit, he was offered a job as my assistant. I was not sure if he was right for the position, but he was a friend, and I wanted to help him out. I figured if we worked together we could get him up to speed.

Or not. He not only did practically no work for me, leaving me quite in the lurch, but would also blame me for his inability to do his job, and eventually would lie to the head of the department about the work he did (or didn't) do. This was an incredibly painful time for me, as I blamed myself for his failure to do his job for a very long time, and worked as hard as I could to get my "friend" up to par. I worked massive overtime, and couldn't sleep nights. Finally we had a knock down drag out conversation, and agreed he should work somewhere else in the company. They gave him a demotion, cut his pay, he became disgruntled, and then he quit the day before they were going to fire him.

Both gentlemen were at the party last night, and I steeled myself with a few good stiff drinks. It seems they have both chosen to "forgive" me, and I felt no actually angst towards them, so all went well. It was such a surprise and relief that they were civil, I am not used to people being upset with me, and do not deal well with negativity. A weight has been lifted, hooray! It seems time really does heal all wounds.

Another fun thing of note from last night, I got do defend my singledom yet again. One of my friends who got married recently was at the party, and he made some comment about how he was sure I would find my special someone soon. Offhandedly I mentioned that it was no big deal because getting married is not one of my goals. Silly me, that offhanded comment put me into a twenty minute explanation.

You see reader, it is not that I am against marriage or that I would never get married, its just not on my "to do" list. For most people you meet it is. Yes, it is that simple. Most people have a goal in life of getting married, and I am not one of them. At this point the person I am explaining this to inevitably says that I am a great person so they are sure that I will find my match. To which I have to point out that the two things have nothing to do with each other, really. We are not taking bets or measuring the odds of me ending up with someone. Heck, I could be with someone and just not get married as well, why not? Or I could have a handful of long-term relationships in my life. Isn't that what people with multiple weddings are actually doing? I honestly believe that if I never get married my life will have been so full that at my funeral the last thing to cross people's minds is, "Oh, poor rockstar, she died a spinster." C'mon.

The conversation eventually ended, as it always does, to me conceding that yes, one day, I could possibly get married. It makes them happy, and they again have utterly missed my point. Married people (most) are like pod people. Once they join the club, all they do is try to drag you down with them. Suddenly they are paired off, and it is their personal mission to get you paired off as well. It’s kind of creepy.

Oh, and today I'm going to a wedding shower. Good way to start the day. Ha.

judy garland wanna be

In an effort to stay awake last night for Spamalot but yet be able to sleep later on, I decided to mix uppers with downers.

Granted, the ghetto version.

Sugar free red bull and pamprin cramp medication. Not impressive versions of actual drugs, but have worked individually to serve their purposes in the past.

The quality of sleep achieved on this mix is sub-par, and is causing mass crankiness today. Trying to remedy the fact by mixing two favorite substances. Chocolate and caffeine in form of hot cocoa in my coffee. My next favorite substance (alcohol) is not on the agenda next, as may exacerbate the current problem in the afternoon.

Spamalot was excellent, by the way, highly recommended if you like off the wall dry humor. Curious to see how it flies on Broadway, considering the success of suburbia fueled shows like Mamma Mia and Movin' Out.

I wonder if Judy always felt this way, or if the designer versions of the drugs take the edge off. Thank god I don't know anyone with access to the real thing.

oh my goodness!

There is so much going on today, I will have to blog in bullets:

- Going to see Spamalot tonight on Broadway. Super stoked to see Hank Azaria, David Hyde Pierce and Tim Curry live onstage doing Monty Python. Happy New Yorker, I am...

- Got notice of the new updated ipod mini...AND FINALLY BOUGHT ONE. That's right, rockstar has been drooling over ipods since they first came out years ago, but has been financially unable. Was considering the ishuffle, but the 18 hour battery in a pink mini was too hard to resist. Note my engraving in the picture below. *sigh*

- Have not heard back from minute man, but actually am feeling relieved. Will go with that instinct and not call him.

- Received many comments from Seattle Girl today. Miss her and love her, good people, good times!

my latest love 

score!

I survived my first official race, and it was fun!

At approx 6:30 last night I left my apt and walked the twenty blocks to the starting line in Central Park. It was a good warm-up, and I arrived a half hour early. I milled around a bit, taking in all the sporty people, bright lights, and cameras. People were jovial and friendly, excited to be in the race. NYC Olympic Bid 2012 flags were handed out, speeches made, and then the starting horn sounded.

I was somewhere in the middle of 2000 individuals running a race, with all of these people looking forward, focused on the same thing. These people had drive, a will to finish. What is even more interesting is that they were hardly competing with one another; they were each competing with themselves. How fast can they make it up the next hill? How well are they pacing themselves? Will they have enough energy for the home stretch? How is their heart rate? How is this race better/worse then the last? Each person was definitely aware of the performance of others around them, but also was focused on what they themselves could do about it.

I could feel myself being irked when people would pass me, but at the same was trying to gauge myself for fear of wearing myself out. Occasionally I would put on a little more speed and pass someone. I could feel how strong my legs were, and my heart pounding as I would reach the top of each hill. Then I would revel in the relief of gravity as I got to run down the other side of the same hill. It was exhilarating to see the finish line around the bend, and drive to it.

The results were just posted on the New York road runners site: I placed 1,312 out of 1,704 people, so although slow I was definitely not last. More importantly, my goal was to pace 12 minutes per mile, but I blew that way out of water with a pace of 9.55 minutes per mile!!! That confirms my suspicions that this would be a fast race, but did not realize I had that kind of speed in me.

I guess it just goes to show you that self perception can be skewed by comparing yourself to others. My concern about doing badly outshined my own pace goal. You have to wonder if I had just run that course on my own; would I have gone that fast? Or if I ran it with no watch and no others around, would I have gone even faster? Also, what was it in me that made me push so hard? Fear of failure or pure competitive nature?

Either way, I can’t wait for the next race. Hooray!!

beginnings

Tonight I run my first official race ever. I have a number (292, not so lucky but not so bad either) and even a computer chip. This will be the first of nine races I have to run this year in order to be automatically entered into the 2006 NYC Ing Marathon.

I was going to wait another month or so before entering any races, but the circumstances of this one were too good to resist. It seems that we are racing under The Gates at night, which is a view that very few ever will get to experience. Night in Central Park? Rare in general, I suppose. It’s only a 5K, which is just over 3 miles, so the distance won't kill me.

So here I am, planning out my time and meals before the race when a thought hits me.

What if I am last?

Like, very last to cross the finish line last? When I signed up I was aware I would probably be running slowly, about an 11-minute mile. One of my good friends who races often does a 10-minute mile and tends to place in the middle, so it seemed I would be safe.

But then I started thinking about the races she runs and the race I'm about to run. She runs the big ones, you know, with tons of entries in good climates. I joined a 2000 person race in Feb. How many non-hardcore runners are going to join? *Gulp*

Here's hoping that someone gets a leg cramp...

reflections

Like the New Year, birthdays by nature tend to suggest introspection.

Last year I was recovering from emergency surgery, a repair of an intestinal blockage from an adhesion. I can recall that the sole goal I had for the year to come was to regain my health. It took me almost a year, but I can confidently say I have achieved that aspiration. I ran seven miles today, and am entered in my first race ever, which will take place in two days, at night under the gates in central park. I am excited and proud about this.

Sadly this is not the prevalent mood of my recollections. I have realized that in many ways I am not happy with the person I have become. Over the past week or two I have been getting a strong feeling that I have become closed, cold, judgmental, and most importantly, unconcerned with other's troubles and tribulations.

The more I have become aware of these changes in myself, the more I try to speculate where these feelings came from. The changes have been so subtle it is hard to trace them back to their origins. They could come from when I allowed a good friend to take a job under me, to help him out, and then he betrayed me. He refused to do his job, and blamed me, which left me tortured to the point where I could not sleep. Eventually he left the company. Or it could have been the fact that I later had to fire his replacement for completely lying about his experiences and abilities when applying for the job. Or the fact that throughout this entire experience I was going through two more emergency room visits, discovery of a 7cm hernia and the subsequent repair thereof. Or maybe it is a response to the constant pressure from my superiors to succeed according to their goals and aspirations. Or it could be the fact that at some point I have let my concern for my fiscal security to blind my need to change my work situation, that somewhere I became more materialistic. Or it could be that I have become frustrated calming the dramas in my friends’ lives that are incredibly superficial and superfluous.

All I know is somewhere I lost the ability to feel sorry for anyone else but myself, I have lost my ability to empathize. Somewhere in all of my drama from last year I have become obsessed with my own misery. I go through the motions of listening to others and giving them advice, but have been faking true sympathy.

I have to focus and re-teach myself to listen to others again. This should include me volunteering some time to help those less fortunate than myself, because heaven knows there are many. More importantly, I need to look into whether or not I can transfer the skills I have into a job that does more for people, which goes farther away from the money-producing machine. While exciting and flattering to see myself succeed in this world, I don't believe it is necessarily worth my soul. I truly miss myself.

Looking out my window it is snowing, and a couple of inches have accumulated. It is white, quiet, still. I could look at is as symbolism to a fresh start. Or a blanket of cold that will eventually give birth to green and flower blossoms again. Or just appreciate it for what it is in the moment: Pretty.

unscathed

The party went off without a hitch! Plenty of people showed up, no one threw up, I did not get kicked out of my apartment, and fun was had by all. Oh, and I got a little action with Mr. Higher Ed.

My initial impressions of him were totally right on. Very cute (he lifts weights and is cut, bonus!), very smart, totally fun. Our overnight acrobatics included one initial blowjob, followed by some nocturnal copulation, and then a following physical adventure in the am. Fun was had, and it was all good except one small problem.

He is a minute man. Not kidding, a minute or under. Every. Single. Time. Any grand finales for rockstar? Nope, not so much. Frankly, I don't think that concern really even crossed his mind. I'm pretty sure, because after his 60 seconds in the a.m., his next words were "let's get some breakfast." (If I was wittier I could have suggested myself as an appetizer, but anyway...)

We went to the diner around the corner, and had a fabulous breakfast. It was not fabulous because of the food, but because of the company. Let me tell you reader, we had really great conversation. No lags, no quiet moments, no boring subject matter. We went back and forth, discussing each other's lives with witty banter, laughs, and genuine interest. And no lack of intellectual discourse to top it off.

He later walked me to my stoop, gave me a hug and said he would call me. Now the question is, can he be taught? After all, ask and ye shall receive. I believe if you want something you should ask. Oh, and I will. *wink*

word to the wise

Never cook fish the night before a party. Yeah.

t-minus 19 hours

What I did today to prepare for my party tomorrow:

Buy a five-piece kitchen table set from Kmart. Deal with deliverymen realizing one chair was broken. Realizing there are reasons why you should not buy furniture from Kmart. Assembled said set and put in place.

Cleared out the empty boxes left over from moving that have been sitting in my kitchen from the six months ago I moved in.

Ordered copious amounts of beer and wine from FreshDirect.com. Thank god for delivery folk carrying liquids up five flights of stairs for me.

Called Mr. Higher Ed to invite him to the party. Had brief discussion, I am not a phone person, managed to get through somehow.


Last minute items to attend to tomorrow:

Pick up laundry so as to have clean underwear, as may be lucky enough to have it seen by someone.

Go to gym to flatten stomach appropriately for same above reason.

Buy last minute party essentials - snacks, plastic cups, and most importantly, toilet paper.

Get my groove on. Awwwww yeah.

work it, work it...

My my, our little rockstar just got asked out on a date! Woo hoo!

I went to a friend's party in Bay Ridge (Brooklyn) last Saturday, and ended up having a pretty long and pretty fun convo with this gentleman. Seems he is a graduate student at Columbia, so we'll call him Mr. Higher Ed. I don't remember what he is going to school for, or what we talked about. Frankly, I'm not sure if I could pick him out of a lineup either. I do remember he knows how to do the moonwalk, which he kindly demonstrated.

Mr. Higher Ed was brought by on friend, who is gay, and therefore I had rather assumed they were "together", like as a couple. YES, I am aware that people of all kinds of sexual orientations can spend time together. I really realized it after I had left the party, mulled it over, and came to the conclusion that I had quite enjoyed Mr. Higher Ed's company and that he was a potential date. I quite quickly called the host of the party and left her a message, saying that if he happened to be straight drop him my number.

She sent an email on Monday thanking all of us for coming, and did not mention anything, so I figured I must have made a faux pas. Until I got the call last night. It was from area code 412, where is that? I never answer numbers I don't know, so let it go to voicemail.

The message pretty much just says he got my number, and wanted to know if we could go out or something of the kind Friday night. That would be 100% him asking me out on a date.

Reader, at this must I must pause to make a point. I am not a shy, receding flower. Honestly I tend to be the one asking the guy out or making the move. Its just that I know what I want and have pretty good intuition, so don't need to be bound by stereotypical dating rules. That is why something like this is such a pleasure; it means I have met someone of my own caliber.

Anyhoo, I will be calling him back again today with my dilemma, which is thus; I would indeed love to spend time with him tomorrow, but happen to be throwing myself a birthday party. Which he is welcome to attend and bring others, but I know I will not be able to spend as much time with him as I would like. (If he comes I must make sure not to loose a sensibility from drink). Also, I have plans for a night on the town with Connecticut Jen Saturday, so that night is pretty shot as well. Maybe Sunday? I guess it depends on whether he comes to the party or not.

Note to self: must buy two new outfits. One for party tomorrow and one for impending date. Happy birthday to me!!

pre-emptive strike

Because I'm a paranoid motherf***er, I decided to get all worries of a surprise party out of the way. I decided to throw myself a party! A nice belated housewarming slash I'm slowly losing the elasticity of my skin bash. Anyone who says I have control issues is surely - correct. :)

Now that I've taken charge of the situation, I'm really looking forward to my birthday. At a minimum I will have twenty people squished into my cozy little one bedroom apartment, it should be nice. If fifty show up I may have to worry. Or just do more shots, which will dispel all concerns. I should have at least two guests who have seen me naked at some point, and if I’m lucky maybe I’ll find a third for later in the evening.

I have three hopes for the evening. 1) My downstairs neighbor has plans for the evening and is not home. 2) I don't drink too much as to induce vomiting or memory loss 3) none of the guests puke anywhere but appropriate receptacles, if at all.

I have invited the failed fix up boy as well - and really hope he comes. I found out that his friendship with the one of the girls who tried to arrange the whole thing has become rather distanced since the affair. This is tragic, as he's a fun guy and I hold no ill will. If all goes well we can pave over the negative and get back to normal fun-ness. I also have completely forgiven the fix up friends, they could not foresee what would happen and truly just wanted to bring happiness to us both.

I'm also really looking forward to the day after my birthday. One of my oldest, closest friends, Connecticut Jen, is coming down to visit. She is one of the very few people on this planet who really "gets" me, and there is no better way to celebrate making it through another 365 days of life than spending time with someone like that. Really, how many people do you get to spend times with who ever really know you? As much as anyone can, of course.

Hooray for ageing!!

little things

Things I liked about today:

- Seeing the uber preppie guy on the train that had spacers in his ears.

- Coming home and seeing the lights of New York City prism through my rain speckled windows.

- Getting my new iskin for my home keyboard. (In the pretty blue that matches my computer)

- Knowing I only have to work three days this week.

- Allowing myself to decide to have a wild and crazy bash Friday night for my birthday.

- Eating fondue and drinking obscene amounts of wine with good friends.

- Suspecting that there is actually a surprise bash already in the works for me this weekend.

Things that made me sad today:

- Nostalgia for working with people who have massive amounts of tattoos, body piercings, and spacers in their ears.

- Coming home and not seeing someone reflected in the light from the rain prisms made by my windows.

- Not being able to travel somewhere with my time off.

- That it was not assumed that everyone had planned for a bash a month ahead of time because my birthday is coming.

- Suspecting that there is actually a surprise bash already in the works for me this weekend.

I think I'm ready to make some changes in my life. Starting by finding a new job. Something a little kookier, surrounded by more liberal types. Someplace less dictated by routine, by schedule. It has been interesting trying on the window office management role, but I think I'm over it. Only took me a month, huh?

You know, I actually looked into auditioning to be a VJ for Fuse TV. I'm just over the age limit, the bastards. I was going to try to lie and apply anyway, but I was a day late hearing about open call and missed it. When did I become the appropriate age for VH1? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

expectations

Happy Valentine’s Day reader!

My least favorite week of the year has begun.

First there is Valentine’s Day. No matter what state of coupledom I exist in, this holiday always causes angst. As a single person it is annoying because the coupled people like to point out you have no valentine. Point out with pity. That is bothersome because I don't believe being single is something to be pitied. When in a relationship it is cumbersome because suddenly due to the fact some stupid saint has a festival day you are supposed to act in a particular way and reach a certain standard. People are measuring the worth of your relationship based on what you and your significant other do and don't do within a 24 hour span.

Rubbish, I tell you.

The thing that makes it my least favorite week as opposed to day is that by birthday is Friday. I don't mind getting older, once I reached 31 I lost most aging angst. The problem is now I'm supposed to set up some kind of party to celebrate. What if I want to celebrate by doing something I don't normally do? Normally I have fun with others, drinking and carousing. Maybe I feel like trying on a cultured, refined me for a while?

I guess it comes down to the fact that I hate other people placing expectations on my shoulders. I love being free, crazy, a will of the wisp. No assumptions, no guidelines, do what I want to do be who I want to be... (Oh no I just quoted some lousy commercial!)

So now to make myself feel better I have to figure out something totally random to do this weekend, just to shake my self up. I'll let you know what I come up with...

romance

My goodness, I cannot believe I waited this long to declare my intense love for NPR! Public radio rocks my world. I have been an avid listener for years, initially to fill in the hours spent in Michigan commuting from my home in Ann Arbor to my job in metropolitan Detroit. An hour each way had to be filled, and soon my passion for shows such as All Things Considered, Fresh Air, and This American Life blossomed.

I can remember when I was driving away from Detroit towards my new life in NYC, pledging via cell phone and hearing my name over the radio for the first time. Getting to compliment and support a show and broadcaster who was only on the air at 2am Saturday mornings, guest appearing in the afternoon for the pledge drive. It was wonderful being to directly effect programming, having a voice.

Currently I have my radio on most days at work, listening all day to the dulcet sounds of Leonard Lopate, Teri Gross, and Brian Lehrer.

If you have not been introduced the This American Life with Ira Glass as of yet, please let me be the one to pop your cherry. If you are going to listen to anything this next hour, take a gander to last week's episode, episode 247.

I was drawn in at first by the initial chapter of this episode, the romance industry. See, the publishing company I work for makes its bread and butter from romance novels. As the show reinforces. It of course is a good segment, but the show gets exponentially better in the next two parts.

Next we get to hear dating perspectives from transsexuals. It is funny, and sweet, and romantic. My favorite part here was the woman who became a gay man. He addresses the common disbelief in the fact that he became a man to love men, that is just would seem so much easier to stay a woman. The guests are so upbeat and optimistic you cannot help but actually feel like there is hope out there in the dating world for us all.

If you have only fifteen minutes, listen to chapter three, the greatest love story of the century, hosted by Sarah Vowell. You will recognize her voice from the recent blockbuster "The Incredibles", as she was the vocal talent portraying Violet. She describes this story with such wit, sarcasm, and a sardonic tone you cannot help but laugh at love and yet fall in love with love at the same time. You have probably heard the story of this romance before, but I can absolutely guarantee this will become your favorite rendering, as it has become mine.

Thank you public radio, for actually helping me to look forward to Valentines Day!!!

permanence

I read somewhere that every day 1,500 more people start a blog. That, frankly, is mind numbing for me. So many people trying so hard to do something. Reach out? Share knowledge? Vent? Inform? Be known?

An established blogger died yesterday, Mike Wolf. He was not one of the random 1,500 - he has been blogging for a while, and had quite a following. That is such the wrong way to put it. He was a person, and he was loved. It just so happens that he chronicled his life in a public venue. Now people are mourning him in the same venue - the comments of the last post of his blog.

I am an amateur blogger, my friends. I have only been doing this for three months. Other people, such as Mike, have been doing this for years. People like him have helped to shape - or reshape - the internet as we know it. He was one of the pioneers who could picture all of us reaching our humanity out to the entire world through the world wide web. Who would have thought, five or ten years ago that people would want their personal diaries published for the world to see? The people who started blogging in 2002 (or earlier if you find it!) had something to say, and just believed that people would want to hear it.

Mike was one of these visionaries. To him, I tip my hat, and send all my good energy to what lays beyond.

nocturnal

Hello everyone, my name is Rockstar.

"Hello Rockstar"

I'm here today because I have a problem. I have an addiction. It has taken over my life, and I am hitting rock bottom. I have tried to quit cold turkey. I tried the "natural" pills. I've tried warm milk. I've tried cutting back on the coffee. I have even counted sheep. And named them.

I am addicted to staying up late.

*Gasp*

*Stunned silence*

Really now, I have a problem. There can be nothing of interest on TV. I might not feel like reading. I could potentially hit a dead end reading blogs. I'll just end up playing solitaire for hours. I cannot seem to put myself to bed before midnight. If I do go to bed before the witching hour, no matter how exhausted I was entering my bedroom I will lie awake until the clock rolls over.

I blame my parents. (Why not, everyone else blames theirs for something, don't they?) I grew up with a strict bedtime. Eight o'clock, every night. Let me tell you that really sucked in the summer when the sun went down at nine. I always envied my parents; my dad was always the late night guy. He would putz around into the wee hours.

I took to reading by the nightlight (my younger sister was afraid of the dark, conveniently) for hours after bedtime, in secret.

Later on when I reached my early teens I learned how to sneak out into the empty living room and watch the other TV without my parents suspecting.

When I hit my late teens I would call my parents at some point in the course of an evening and ask to sleep over a friend's house, when really I just wanted to come home late. If they asked why I ended up coming home after all I would just say I couldn't sleep and missed my bed. How can a parent argue with that?

A lot of my past lives revolved around alternative lifestyles, with late nights at work and me sleeping in until noon. I really did love waking up at two pm every day. I'm Irish for god's sake; sun is not my natural environment.

Here I am four years into a regular nine to five schedule, and I am still unable to acclimate. I hoped my sleep schedule would change, that I could shift my natural sleep cycle. No such luck. I tried sleeping pills, which did get me to bed earlier, but when I awoke I was so groggy it was even harder than normal to get out of bed.

I really do envy the people who get to bed at a "decent" hour most nights, who get up early and go to the gym. They seem so industrious, so put together. Even now with this training schedule and me getting so tired at night I just can't seem to get to bed at a decent time.

Oooh, maybe I should try hypnosis. How funny would that be if it worked too well and I got narcolepsy? Or if I was out at a bar with friends and just fell asleep automatically at ten.

Okay, maybe not so funny.

Well, that is it. I'll go to bed

RIGHT

NOW

After I play just one more game of solitaire.

too rich or too thin

I just saw the new Gwen Stephani/Eve video, "Rich Girl".

Has Gwen gotten even thinner????? She was skinny before, but looked healthy. Suddenly she looks like a twig just about to snap. What ever happened to getting married and putting on a few pounds? What happened to the Gwen workout? What happened to "I've had it up to here?" tough chick?

I saw her two years ago in concert with No Doubt, the day after they won their first grammy. They, and she, were terrific. She had such energy, so much vitality. It is so tragic to see her look so unhealthy.

You know, maybe if I got her to train for the marathon with me the endorphins will help her get over whatever it is that made her so thin! Heck, at the rate she is at I could carry her half the way if she got tired. Or even better, whenever she gets tired we snag a new fan to give her a piggy back ride. Silly Oprah and PDiddy, they wasted their valuable fan resources.

one small step for man...

Tonight I am off to train some more for the marathon. I am using the Four Months to a Four Hour Marathon regimen. This book is a little more adventurous than my previous training guide, The Runner's Handbook.

Tonight is speed training. This consists of me running six sets of .25 mile in two minutes. You know what? That is pretty damn fast. Pretty much too damn fast for me, actually.

Last week I tried to run as instructed, and was barely able to prevent myself from being projectile thrown across the room. It is mighty hard to maintain any form of decorum when you are trying to turn down the speed of a treadmill in an effort to save your life. Great way to get the adrenaline flowing, though. And to get the attention of every person in the gym, let me tell you!

My long runs are scheduled for Saturdays. This past weekend I ran five miles. It took me just shy of an hour, but I am really proud of myself! I sat down and tried to think of the last time I had run that kind of distance, and I don't know if I ever have.

Do not misunderstand me; I am in no means the best shape of my life. I was a sporty and independent kid, and would bike miles to go play a softball game somewhere. Who needs mom and dad to drive you when you've got a twelve speed to get around?

It is such a tragedy that we live in such an obese country. I can't help but feel sorry for seriously overweight people when I see them struggling do regular everyday things, like getting up the subway stairs. They are missing out on all the joys and benefits of an active life. I mean the endorphins alone are worth it!

I have been in training for three weeks and feel stronger, thinner, and more confident than I have in a couple of years. I'm on top of the world!!

By the way, do me a favor and remind me of this blog next time I get lazy and put off the gym...

calm after the storm

I am feeling much better today. Sleep is a great healer, really. Also, finally turned back on my phone and checked my voicemail. Seems one friend called to apologize and was concerned for my well being. My frustration has subsided. I do love only having a cell phone, nothing like turning myself off from the rest of the world.

Likewise, I am very much looking forward to my doctor's appt this evening. It is my last post-surgery checkup with my plastic surgeon. He completely reconstructed my abdominal wall, including a couple of patches of the wunder kind alloderm. The thing is, not only is he a super duper plastic surgeon, he is also a way cool super geek. I swear every time I go in we talk for a half an hour about cool stuff. Like how do you pick good interns? Do you ever have to fire them? How do you get your own line of products? Who really does the research? Where do the chemicals come from? Are you ever in a public place and hear the famous "is there a doctor in the house?" If you do, do you respond?

So much fun! I am saddened that we get no more rap sessions. No, it is not worth me getting optional surgery; I have been cut open enough to last me a while. But if you are looking for a good guy in NYC, drop me a line. This guy knows his stuff.

roller coaster

I believe it was less than a week ago when I had one of those wonderful, transcendent, perfect moments? And today I hit the downside of that roller coaster. Today I had a slight freak out.

I realized that my Friday night excursions made a pretty good dent in my pocket. Until my tax return or my next check come in I have $30. I went online to check with the IRS on my return status, and it said I should get my refund by Feb 15th.

Uh oh.

Well, I'm not going to starve. I've got food in the pantry, and I really could get by on $30 worth of mac and cheese for a few days. But I gotta cut back on the non-essentials.

Part of cutting back was calling my friends to let them know I was out for the superbowl party tonight. The party was in queens, and even though it was at a friend's apartment, the money that I have left needs to be non-recreational. Not to mention I just want to really lay low in case of emergency.

I start thinking about emergencies. I start thinking about how my apartment was recently three feet away from being in flames, burnt to the ground. And how if that happened now I would only have $30. I start thinking about 9/11, I start thinking about the blackout. I realize I have no safety net. Feelin a little bit like I'm treading water in the middle of the ocean.

Trying to keep calm, I call my one friend who was going to travel with me to the Astoria party to let her know I couldn't make it. I already feel bad that I have to bail, and now I'm freaking on the inside. Her reaction? Give me a hard time. "But I want you to go" and "you were supposed to be my motivation" are her responses to me. I'm holding back tears by the time we hang up.

Then I call the party organizer, I can't just not show. She answers the phone and I blurt out "I am freaking out because it just sunk in that a week ago my apartment was one yard away from destruction and I have thirty bucks to my name. I really can't go out, I need to stay home." Her response? "Okay, okay. Just let me say one thing - you can come over here, we are just going to order pizza and drink beer."

Obviously my presence is much more important to my friends than my well-being. I tell them I'm in meltdown and all they hear is I have to miss a party. The party is the last thing on my mind, I'm thinking about life security.

Half a sausage pizza and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream later, I'm feeling a lot better. I have learned a couple things about myself and about my friends today.

First of all, when I get this tax return I am going to put some money to the side for safety. An ipod means less to me than peace of mind.

Secondly, that if I am in trouble and have to miss a social gathering, don't bother to call, just don't show. That way I don't have to deal with a guilt trip on top of whatever else I am dealing with.

Finally, I have learned that every blessing has its own curse. In this case, being fun, being the "life of the party" means that you have to deal with the disappointment and disapproval of others if you can't show. If it was a gathering that I was less enthusiastic about, then I could deal with the dissatisfaction of others. When I can't go because of an unfortunate event or circumstance, then I have to bear the extra weight of guilt on top of whatever else I am dealing with.

Honestly, I love having fun, helping others have fun, and the attention I get when I am successful in that venture. I love knowing I can make people laugh, make them feel better about themselves and the lives they live. I just need to learn to show my soft side, my weak side as well. If people don't know I have an Achilles heel they can never watch out for it. In effect I expose myself for heartache by never allowing others to know that I am fallible. Funny how that works.

Right now I'm listening to "Superman Song" by Crash Test Dummies, and it is really helping to lift my spirits. Sorry reader, I tried to attach the mp3, but I'm afraid my html skills are still sub-par. I highly recommend the tune for the next time you feel a little less than a superhero.

melody

I have a new mad obsession. A song by Straylight Run, existentialism on prom night. There is something so haunting and captivating about this tune that absolutely rivets me.

I am frustrated, however. I cannot purchase this song or album online. Not on itunes, cdnow, nothing. What is up with that in today's day and age? This song is getting relatively good airplay, who makes the decision not to put it online? I have not purchased a real live physical cd in almost two years. I have an imac hooked up to a good sound system, thus my music library is 100% virtual. Well, at least as much as I have imported from my cd collection. Too bad I can't import my cassettes.

I was never really a napster person, so this is all purchased music. I am heartily in love with being able to buy any song on a whim instantly. Thus my frustration with this tune. I have had to resort to the link used above, which is far inferior to downloading. The artists get no royalties, I cannot make it portable and thus introduce it to more people, and even more importantly, I cannot listen on automatic repeat and have to actually click a button to replay. Carpal tunnel via music madness.

I also have a very hard time justifying to myself spending $16 or more on a cd when the virtual one is only $10. Really, what good is that little piece of plastic that I have to pay the extra six bucks? (Assuming we all backup our music somewhere.)

Ah well, spoiled by the digital age.

libations

I had a pretty darn good Friday night.

A few girlfriends and I went out on the town last night and tied one on. It started out as four girlfriends and myself at Social for a couple, and then we moved to my favorite bar in my hood, Rudy's. Over time four more girlfriends and two guy friends joined in as well.

Rudy's always holds an adventure for me. This is my kind of place, cheap, kind of dive-y. Really dirty and dark jam packed with kooky characters.

The last time I went to Rudy's an Irish television show was filming. They were going all over the world documenting the cheapest places to drink. I had flirted with the two hosts, ended up licking one's face on camera and then later making out with him. Nothing better than a good Irish boy snog. (And just so you know, television pancake makeup does not taste like peaches and cream.)

Last night I was up for some fun, so I ended up making out with two people anyway. The first guy was a gentleman who just happened to have the luck to be sitting near us. My girlfriends and I just loved him; he got to make out with three of us. Oh, and he even kissed a gay guy friend of ours who showed up later. He was a good sport.

The second guy I kissed was this other dude at the bar who had been watching us and talking a little, and basically he just came up to me and asked for some lip action. I initially said no, but when he asked why I couldn't think of a reason, so I did. Twice. Have I mentioned sometimes I have a hard time saying "no?" Of course, the ten beers I had may not have helped the situation.

I did not take anyone home with me; I am kind of over the whole one night stand thing. I'd like to sleep with someone and expect to see him again. There definitely are advantages to one-night stands, but I guess I'm just not feeling it anymore.

Anywho, I'm feeling a strong boost of confidence, so am going to get my booty back online at match for a date. At least until I try the hurry date. Yay for adventures in dating!

oh so pleasant

Well dear readers, I have graduated to the big leagues of blogging. I got my first negative comment.

Which of course I promptly deleted. (la la la)

Not a fun experience, but I suppose if you are going to do this kind of thing you need to acquire a thick skin. Basically the anonymous individual did not seem to pleased with the concept of me blogging about my match.com adventures. They got the impression from my entry that I would be mocking the guys, as opposed to my normal brand of humor which entails me making fun of myself and telling stories of strange situations.

It all comes back to the concept that the impression you make at any given moment may be the most important one.

Think about it - the first guy to ever go postal could have volunteered at soup kitchens, shoveled the snow for the old lady next door, or done some other great and wonderful things in his life. Some point in his life he finally snaps, and boom, he is remembered for that. His entire life summed up from one day. Extreme example, obviously, but you get my point.

This same concept applies to blogs, obviously because the most recent post is the one you see first. More importantly though, this immediacy concept applies to people. You know, the real life kind you can see, hear, and touch.

One of my favorite movies is Harvey. I absolutely love the quote "Mother used to say that in this world you have to be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant. Well, for years I was smart; I prefer pleasant much more." Every time I see that movie I feel so inspired by Jimmy Stewart's character's kindness and generosity. More importantly, I am reminded how the little niceties can make such a difference in every person's life that you touch.

You know what I mean. When you see someone you know, say hello. Smile at people. Listen to them when they tell you how they are and care about it. Take the time to learn something new about someone you see every day.

Hopefully this kind of thinking will not taint my blog to a point that it is so politically correct you will puke. That helps no one. I will try to remember the importance of context, however.

In the meantime, I know I have a reader who has left a definite impression of having been dissed in the dating scene. A little bitter, you might say. For you, I am sorry you feel that women are more prone to laugh at you then themselves. Or maybe that is part of the problem?

not so much

I don't think I'm cut out for match.com.

Took me long enough, didn't it? I just went on, and had gotten a "wink" from someone that I'm not even remotely interested in. And I'm wracked with guilt at sending the "I'm not interested" link back.

See, if I meet a guy in the bar I'm not interested I can joke my way out of any situation.

I don't know if I empathize too much or just can't say no. Either way, my profile is hidden. Done and done.

taking one for the team

Is there anything better than blogging on a lunch break?

Sure - signing up for Match.com on a lunch break.

That's right; I have decided that my blogs need a little more romantic drama. So for you, dear reader, I have become a member of the on line dating community. See how much I care about you?

I have had a profile created for a couple of years, but have been reticent about getting it out there. After posting yesterday's log I realized that all these serious thoughts and discussions serve a purpose, but really the things that really entertain always come back to romance.

After long debate I have decided to withhold this blog address from the potential datees - for their and my continued anonymity. See, that way I can give you all the lurid details.

Bet you just can't wait, can you?

capitalism rocks

I never knew how much I appreciate living in a capitalistic society until I read "We the Living" by Ayn Rand.

It's not that I necessarily thought I was a Marxist or a communist or something, it’s just that people don't go walking around toting the upsides of a free market economy. It took a semi-autobiographical story of a woman coming from a communist country to make me realize the worth of what I have.

Yes, there are flaws in every system. Monopolies, big corporations doing terrible things because of the cash, hell – look what has happened to the media. All bad things. But the concept that if I work hard at something I am good at can and will be rewarded monetarily? Awesome.

You have to realize as well that Ayn Rand changed my life. Her book "The Fountainhead" was the catalyst that in effect made me quit my safe, boring, and frankly awful job as an engineer at General Motors. The main character in that book had to be true to himself and his inner vision, and would not bend or compromise no matter how hard the jealous shallow hordes tried to beat him down. His trials made me realize that going the safe way and killing myself slowly was no way to live. I quit the job, supported myself waiting tables, got a degree in psychology and tried every job that came my way.

I'm still working very hard, and am slowly getting paid more and more for my true talents. This I appreciate.

But what I really appreciate is that I just filed my federal taxes, and for the first time in my life I am getting a pretty good return. Oh my, suddenly I am the ultimate capitalist! Visions of ipods, furniture, vacations, and new outfits dance through my head. I am practically giddy with the excitement of treating myself to something.

Then I slap my hand against my forehead and scold myself for my newfound materialism. Argh! Why does the concept of shopping suddenly make me so giddy? What happened to my loving my quality of life and friends?

Really I'm not getting enough to buy any more than one of the things in my list, but then I realize that the most fun part about this scenario is that I get the chance to dream and imagine having all those things. Like how spending $1 on a lottery ticket is really just buying you a little fantasy time.

After riding this roller coaster of joy and self-flagellation, it occurred to me that I am smack dab in the middle of a truly happy moment in my life. So many of the things that I have dreamed of having I have accomplished. How many people can say that? Even more importantly, how many people take the time to realize it and bask in the glow when it happens?

Now do me a favor and go knock on some wood, just in case I’m not knocking hard enough.