total sap

As anticipated I went and saw the movie version of Rent over the holiday weekend.  And loved it.  Of course.  There were high points and low points. 

 

I'll start with the low points just to get them out of the way.  The direction sucked, fortunately not enough to take away from the story or music.  Rosario Dawson was "eh", not really a powerful singer, but her presence made up for it in the most part. 

 

The high points were some excellent new variations of the music, so much so that I still got chills.  Some of the things they did to cover up Rosario's weakness actually improved upon the original version.  The original cast, my god they were amazing, especially since they have had years to perfect and mature these parts into an art form.  Most of all, it hit me today that this story and theme can now travel to every little town all over the world, regardless to access to Broadway or traveling shows.  There are people who have not been touched by the story of Rent!  Now they can.  Again, so tragic and how poignant that the man who so deeply imbedded "no day but today" into a musical died on opening night.  

 

Because I am such a fanatic, I bought the movie soundtrack even though I already own the Broadway one.  While walking to work this morning, the new version was playing on my ipod and "Another Day" came on with the movie arrangement.  And I started to cry.  One minute I'm thinking about lunch and the next I'm a total wreck tearing up in the middle of the street.  Really:

 

I can't control
My destiny
I trust my soul
My only goal is just
To be
There's only now
There's only here
Give in to love
Or live in fear
No other path
No other way
No day but today...
 

Every day we push on.  For what, for why?  Just to be.

 

Yes, I am a sap.  So sue me.

hormones

In my constant belief that someday soon I may have a regular sex life, I take birth control.

No, we will not stop now and define what a "regular" sex life is. Maybe in another post.

I've done the pill, which for me was not so great as I'm really bad at doing anything consistently at the same time every day, like taking a pill. It just isn't feasible, my schedule - even while on the nine to five gig - changes too much. I tend towards spontaneity. Routines have never been my thing.

The shot was my favorite. A slight prick once every three months, and not only was I protected but I had no period at all. Quite a sweet side effect if I do say so. Sadly my gyno said that the shot could lead to osteoporosis, so she took me off in lieu of another form of protection.

Next came the patch. You stick it on at the beginning of the month, changing it out weekly for a new adhesive on your "patch day". As there is no exact time that the said switch must occur, I was able to stick to this regimen. Unfortunately most of my lint did too. The patch was skin colored, but the border always was caked with a dirty black outline. Gross.

Since I'm still not seeing anyone on a regular basis, I just decided to forego the stupid patch and settle for being birth control free. That's right, back to my natural hormones. And I've noticed, let me tell you, because my sex drive is now through the roof!!

Historically I used to be much randier in my younger days, and have not been too lustful as of late. Seems by accident I have gone and gotten my sex drive back, and it is making up for lost time. I'm practically drooling at every man I see. So I signed up for match, before my vibrator goes on strike. In the meantime, I guess I'll focus that pent-up energy on my running. I just may run that nine-minute mile race this year after all!

(P.S. I think as good as I've sort of gotten at writing in my blog I am CRAP writing these damn profiles. If you have any skill please give it a look and toss me some pointers. Thanks!)

false gods

I worship at the altar of caffeine.  Nuff said.

fruit bowls

I have always wanted to be the kind of person who decorates their kitchen around a bowl of fruit.

You know what I'm talking about. Often when watching a TV show or a movie (as tonight in Tom Hank's apartment in "You've Got Mail", for example) someone’s kitchen table has a centerpiece decoration made of fruit. Normally apples, pears, and/or bananas. Sometimes they go and get exotic with pomegranates or mangoes or something.

These centerpieces always strike me as classy and upscale.

So why don't I just go ahead and get myself some fruit and stick it in a bowl on my kitchen table? I mean, I have a table; I have room to put a bowl on it. The thing is, I am just not that kind of person. The kind of person who takes the time and effort to stock a bowl and rotate the fruit so none of it goes bad. Do you have any idea the amount of time and dedication involved in this kind of venture? How much fruit I would have to eat? How often I would have to shop for produce? The innate risk of wasting food involved?

As much as I long to be such an individual, I have had to come to terms with the fact I am not. In the same manner I kind of mourn that I am not an a.m. runner, a high-heel wearer, a fashion savvy New York woman, a sophisticate, a demure type, or a casual dater.

Geez, many times I have tried these personas on, and for one reason or another was not able to follow through. It is not that I in any way dislike myself, it is just that I admire these qualities in other people, and thus have a twinge of regret when it I cannot make it part of my makeup. The other night I made an effort to be stylish and dress up all H&M-like for the bar, it just wasn't comfortable on me. I'm more of a quirky dresser than a sophisticated one.

This, I suppose, is one of the reasons that I still am surprised in my longevity in corporate life. Because as many times as I try on different personalities, they are in effect me wearing a costume of some kind. My self-image just doesn't really include big business or executive management. Not that I am uncomfortable or unduly stressed by my job, just that it's not really me. How long until I am no longer able to keep up with the juggling of the produce and have to deal with an empty bowl in the center of my kitchen table?

Or do I give in to the compromise and find some good quality plastic fruit?

five looooooong years

Today I received a letter congratulating me for reaching my five-year anniversary at my company.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

What a long time to be at one job. For me, at least. Historically speaking I often was juggling two gigs at any given time in my life, and I was averaging about one new job a year. The longest I had ever stayed with a company prior to this was at mongo, even while there I experienced blocks of time where I only was working one day a week and working full time somewhere else.

How did I celebrate this glorious day? Why, I worked until 10:00 pm, of course.

You may think I'm crazy, but I got a lot of tasks done and felt like I was walking on air as I left the building. Oh, the relief!

Seattle Girl suggested to me a while ago that I try to walk home one day a week to clear my head, and I have found this advice to be stellar. Tonight I walked home, and felt the burdens of my work and personal concerns blow off layer by layer in the early winter wind. At one point I was strolling through the heart of the trendy meat-packing district, surrounded by expensive, beautifully tasteful thanksgiving and Christmas decorations, and I smelled the scent of a burning fireplace in the air. It felt so cozy, peaceful, and at home.

All kidding aside, this also then marks my five-year anniversary of having moved to New York. Living here is what I really celebrate, being able to actualize my dream. How many people get to say that at such a young age?

I suppose regardless of my personal benchmarks this is the time of year you are given an opportunity to stop and be thankful, to take stock. In that case, for these things I am grateful:

- Having a job that has allowed me to grow as a person and be able to afford life in NYC.

- My health. I ran a four-mile race this past Sunday and was able to manage a 10:45 minute mile. (Hey, that's fast for me, okay??)

- The presence of the friends in my life. People who care and support me when I ask. And who appreciate exactly how hard it is for me to do so.

- Beer. Wine. Liquor.

- My imac, which without I could not be blogging. Oh, and my ipod too. Love that damn apple inc.

- The color of my eyes. I get lots of compliments on them.

- Chocolate

- My brains and my social abilities. The one-two punch that is the secret of my success.

- Learning to forgive, that holding a grudge hurts you more than anyone else.

-Not having a wooden leg. I think that would put a crimp in my sexual exploits. Not that I have much if any right now...

-Which leads me to being thankful for having such an active imagination and fantasy life.

Score!!

the chicken or the egg

Often growing up I would like to attribute some of my uniqueness to my name. I genuinely believed that because my name was less common than most I was destined to be special, different.

As I have gotten older, I have realized that the types of people who choose to name their children kooky outlandish monikers tend to also teach their children different morals and behaviors, stressing the importance of their individuality. Whether or not the child picks up these traits of independent personality can be argued either way, for nature or nurture.

A better question would be to ask the ratio of outlandish ratio types to socially common names vs. highly individualized names to strong senses of unconformity. In the book Freakonomics (which I absolutely loved)

Mr. Levitt did an extensive study of how names can predict success based on the most commonly chosen name by different class groups.

This all being said, I never imagined I would get the hots for a guy named Wentworth. There is no way he chose that one as a stage name.

What kind of nickname does he get to go by, anyway? Wenty? Big W? Guess it doesn't matter, since in my fantasies we don't do much talking. Tee hee.

darwinism

While in Seattle, my sister and I started telling the Seattle Kids about the "afternoon special" type stories from our neighborhood growing up.

Name something bad that you heard as a child not to do; kids in my neighborhood did it. And felt the repercussions.

There was the little boy, Frank, who died at the age of nine, choking on a hot dog while his mother watched; she did not know the Heimlich maneuver.

A friend of mine from across the street, Samantha, died at 12 along with her 7-year-old brother when they played with matches and started a fire. They actually died of smoke inhalation when they ran upstairs away from the flames.

The boy next door died at 18 because he was hanging out drunk on the train tracks. (There were rumors that he was a Satanist testing the devil, but obviously that didn't work.)

My first best friend named Jennifer growing up thought she couldn't get pregnant the first time you had sex - and had a baby when she was 14.

There was the boy who lived around the corner who played russian roulette and died.

There was the kid who grew up down the street - he hopped the fence to get a ball and was mauled by a dog.

When we started to tell the stories as they kept coming out the whole thing seemed more and more morbid. Luckily boys seem to respond to these kind of horror stories with nary a shrug. If anything, they were most amazed at why someone would ever play russian roulette. Shocked and dumbfounded, really. Which is a good thing.

I suppose it is stranger that my sister and I had taken it in stride as a way that people acted. I was such an avid reader, I was familiar with extraordinary things happening to people in books, and maybe saw no reason that real life wouldn't be the same. Maybe such comfort in extreme circumstances is what led me to New York.

I do love it here. And I crave adventure. Hmmmm.

epilogue to a fast

It has been a month since I was on my liquid diet, and I thought it would be a good idea to touch base with how I have and have not changed.

Pretty much all of the weight I lost on the fast came back within a week. I stayed about three or four pounds lighter. I'm guessing that what I gained back was a combination of water weight and the poundage of processing food through my digestive system.

As far as eating healthy goes, it is kind of a mixed bag. I have been drinking fresh veggie/fruit juice every morning, and boy what a power punch that gives me! I feel energized, healthy, and even have skipped coffee a couple of days. My food choices vary widely, I eat crap still. Especially when I was on vacation in Seattle. I had burgers, garlic fries served with aioli, cheese and beef enchiladas, and tons of desserts and mocha lattes. So we can't say I'm miss healthy organic anymore.

My colonoscopy results came back with really terrific results. No inflammation, parasites, or cancer. Some slight ulceration at the sight of my resection that indicates by the pattern that I still have crohns, though in remission. Thing is, my gastroenterologist also said that since all the blockages that send me to the hospital clear up in under 20 hours that the cause is most likely an adhesion in my small intestine. Crohns doesn't recover that fast, he tells me. Great news I don't have cancer (seems I have a significant risk in that area), but bummer I have both adhesions and Crohns. Stupid guts.

The most interesting side effect of my fast has been how much more in tuned with my appetite I am now. Recently whenever I have a large calorie laden lunch (three pieces of pizza a couple of days ago, cheese enchiladas today) my appetite is appeased for the rest of the day. I leave work, go to the gym, come home, and still not hungry. This has never happened to me before. Maybe I was previously misinterpreting other feelings for hunger; maybe my body senses I don't need more nourishment. I don't know. It is great not being ruled by my appetite all the time, let me tell you!

I also am not hungry in the mornings anymore, even if I had a strenuous workout the night before. The juice is all I need to get going, and satiates me until about 11:00 when I have an apple as a snack.

Really, I am so happy with this last change. It is so nice to feel that my body is regulating itself and its needs. Again I have to say this fast was one of the best things I have ever done for myself. I'm a true believer.

Webster's

I wonder how long before the word "googled" gets into the dictionary?  Or "blogger", for that fact.

freaks

A couple of months ago I mentioned my first trip to Coney Island.  It was a fun day, but I left out the best story.

 

If you look into the history of Coney Island, its popularity was not built upon rides.  It was built upon side shows.  Freaks, if you will.  People, including the hoighty-toighty high society types, traveled far and wide to view the bearded lady, giant, world's tiniest man, and fire eaters.  These kinds of shows drew exceptionally large crowds, more people than you could even imagine. 

 

When I heard about this, I was kind of surprised.  Those kinds of shows historically kind of make me squirm, make me uncomfortable.  The fact that this was accepted family entertainment amazes me.  What is even more interesting is these Freak Shows still exist on Coney Island.  The main attractions are the rides and games, but down one undistinguishable pathway the sideshow still exists.

 

After our very long day, RFW and I were about to hop the subway home when we spotted the show.  She was hesitant to go in, but I just had to see it.  Only $5 for ten different acts! 

 

We walked into the amazing tattooed man, who demonstrated lying down on a bed of nails.  Kind of mind boggling, even if you doubt the validity of the nails.  Then they put the amazing electric woman in a chair and did tricks with electricity and fire.  Pretty neat.  Next came the fire eating lady, way way cool.  All of the performers were heavily pierced, tattooed, with fun hair colors.

 

The last act was the sword swallower.  She was about 19 or 20, came on stage and started her act by swallowing a foot long dagger and making jokes and witty banter. 

 

Then she asked for a volunteer.  Believe it or not I actually hesitated for a moment.  As outgoing as I am, I am rarely on stage.  But as no one else raised their hand, I offered myself. 

 

In this part of the act she was to swallow a two foot sword.  That is long, in case you didn't know.  I got to inspect it, and let me tell you I tried everything I could to check for a trick button or twist or something, all to no avail.  After doing what I thought was my duty, I started to head off stage.

 

"Wait!"  Said the sword swallower - "you're not done yet!"

 

That caught me by surprise.  Seems that my REAL part of the act was to stand on stage with her as she swallowed the sword, then she would bend over and I was to PULL THE SWORD OUT OF HER.  "Be careful to pull it out slow and straight", she said, "the sword is sharp"

 

Ha.  No pressure.

 

So she swallows the sword, and then bends over.  I am actually nervous.  Grasping the sword, I start to pull it out, all the time her eyes holding mine.  I can see if I was a guy how this could be kind of erotic.  As the sword comes out, I can totally feel the weight and the pull of it as it comes out of her.  There is no way the sword is fake, I can feel it.  Weird, creepy, and ultimately way cool.

 

Everyone applauds, I step off stage, and the show is over.  I am a part of the freak act now, and love it.

vacation

Ho boy, what a week! I've been on vacation. A real one involving travel and everything.

My sister flew in last Saturday, stayed the weekend with me in NYC, and then we flew out together to Seattle to visit and stay with Seattle Girl and her new family. I was kinda nervous about staying there as we were invading family space for a week without me having previously met any of them, also as I am rusty on the interaction with kids. These worries were for naught as the Seattle Hubby was totally fun and cool, and the Seattle Kids were a delight and a pleasure. And I'm not just saying that because Seattle Girl reads this, either.

Some highlights from this lost period of blogging time:

- When watching the runners near the end of a marathon, you can tell which men did not know to tape up their nipples because they are bleeding. My sister does not enjoy that fact as much as I do. I have a cruel sense of humor.

- Looking over mountains from the top of another mountains very pretty and very cold.

- Seattle is a way neat town with plenty of fun districts. Yes we did the space needle. And it was cool.

- Luddite was and can be used in casual conversation. Impressive and true.

- Performers in a piano bar may give you the finger if you requests Meatloaf's "I would do anything for love", but will really hate you if you request Queens' "Bohemian Rhapsody".

- Yes, cars can float. But only when driven by a man who wears crab and duck hats while acting out "YMCA" by the Village People.

- I won't say there are more homeless people in Seattle than New York, but am willing to bet there are more per square foot. Makes sense, as the weather is more temperate.

- My sister no longer enjoys me telling funny stories that involve her. Guess they will all have to be about me. ;)

- I saw the first Starbuck's and I bowed to my master. Pictures to come.

- At some point my tolerance completely disappeared. I drank about seven beers one evening and was tossing my cookies the rest of the night, even when there was nothing left to come up. This of course was done in the downstairs bathroom with me trying to retch as quietly as possible so the Seattle Kids didn't wake up and hear the bad influence downstairs. At least I could be used as a cautionary tale.

- Even though the forecast says it will rain every day in Seattle, it may not. It only rained one hour of one on us out of four. The precipitation is exaggerated.

- It is possible to lose weight on vacation. I did. No, really, I did. Really. I ate terribly too, didn't matter. We just did a whole heck of a lot.

- I'm a redhead again. It is kind of orange-y right now, it takes some time to convert back to "fiery".

While home recovering from my vacation, Sleepless in Seattle came on, which was really cool. Granted, the only similarity between that movie and Seattle Girl is that a girl from the east falls for a widower from Seattle. But having just come back from the Emerald City, seeing the same scenery and watching fate put two people together now has etched my friends as replacements for Tom and Meg in my mind forever. It helps that having seeing them and their new family so happy together in a way that is movie-like picturesque. Good things can happen to good people, don't doubt it.

I miss my mojo

Sorry for the dry spell, I've been feeling rather uninspired. Or maybe I'm just tired of blogging about this recent hermit life. Either way, I have taken some time off from output.

But I just couldn't stay away.

On that note, I will blog once more about a health issue, and then for a while I will have some funny stories. I've been able to compile some again. Nice to have my mojo back. This health story is sort of funny, anyway.

Guess what I got for the first time ever this past Thursday? I finally gave in and got myself a gastroenterologist, and he was shocked and amazed that I had gone this long having had a diagnosis of Crohn's disease (16 years ago, I don’t' think I still have it, but anyway) without a scope being put up my butt. He really had to wonder?

So I conceded, and went to get my first ever colonoscopy.

I arrived at the doctor’s office, signed my forms, and was instructed to strip completely naked from the waist down and put on a nice robe. Then the anesthesiologist came in to discuss my medical history and....started flirting?!? In five minutes this man is going to knock me unconscious and see my bare ass getting a scope put up it. For him this is a regular day, but compliments about my eyes and jokes about wedding proposals were not quite what I had in mind.

It was surprising that they did not just kind of numb me or relax me but knock me out totally. I think the most amazing thing about the whole procedure was that when I woke up I woke up right away, was very lucid, and thought to myself...

"Huh, I don't feel violated at all"

Good times. Of course, not feeling like anything had been done to me makes me wonder about some drunken evenings I have had in the past...but that's another post.