Thursday, September 28, 2006


Okay, I am a hopeless romantic.

No, really I am.

For gods sake I love Barry Manilow and Air Supply. Love love them. I will watch any good romantic comedy over and over at least ten times. A TV show with intense romantic tension? Ha, like there ever was a question.

It stems from the fact that I believe. I believe in true love.

(Insert princess bride quote here, no way I’m doing the phonetic thing.)

There is no doubt in my mind that there is someone out there for me. This belief is rooted deep down in my soul.

No, I don't date a lot. But I meet an awful lot of people, have all kinds of exposure. Which really is just as fine if not better. At least for me. When shopping for romance I freeze up, so casual encounters are more my style.

Yeah, the next question is inevitable. The whole "is there just one person for you" one. Needy bastards.

The answer is really a question. Think of it like a pyramid. There is a pinnacle, but there also are a lot of layers on the way to the top. That top 3% is all you; these are the people you could spend your life with. But that top .01%? Your soul mate. The question is this - are you willing to be the top .01% ...or merely the top .3% for someone else?

If you are both 3% people then you are great, you are perfectly matched. Honestly. It is when you have a non-matching split that the problems come into play. To them you are perfection and to you they are okay? Screams loneliness and dysfunction. One person is afraid of losing the other, and the second person is just bored. Not so good.

Oh, and in case you didn't get it already, I am holding out for the .001%. Yes, I hold out for the real deal, a whole extra decimal point. So there, dammit.

Life rewards you for holding fast to your beliefs, dreams and ideals. It punishes you too, but how else would the holding on mean anything? (Bright side disease or true romantic, your choice.)

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

back to basics

Sometimes you over-think things. God knows I do.

New job, plenty of stress, can make it hard to relax in the evening. Drinking every night as a remedy may be relaxing but not so good for the slumber.

Then there is training for a marathon, getting up early to wake up when by nature mornings are evil. Oh, and if you drink to go to sleep it gets even harder to wake up as the quality of rest declines.

Running suffers; stamina suffers, what is rockstar to do?

Gee, stop trying too hard to fit a square peg into a round hole. Accept the things I cannot change, have the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

In other words, go to the gym AFTER work. Back to late nights and late mornings. Physical activity to shake off the stress, endorphins to give back the happy edge. Workout plan back on track, sleep back to a deep deep slumber.

Step one in re-motivation and life back in motion again.

Now if I could just stop working so goddamn late all the time I’d be set…

Monday, September 25, 2006

suck it up

Lord, how spoiled am I that I whine because my life has gotten EASIER? And that makes me lazy and not interested in putting out effort to what challenges I have left before me? That I just give up on something I have been working towards for years???

Dude. Duuuuuuude.

Yes, I ran over the weekend. Goddamn it all.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

losing my religion

Its like I don't know what I want anymore.

I have a confession; I didn't go on my long run last weekend. And I did not run at all this last week. I feel guilty, but I mostly I just don't feel anything.

For so much of my life I have worked hard. For one thing or another - to get through school, to finish training, to live somewhere new. But I really think I was just trying to survive.

Moving out at 20 was survival. And then working two jobs was survival to pay for life and to pay for school. Because it never seemed possible that I would have a job that didn't need a college education. I chose engineering at first because it guaranteed me a job with an income to help me pay for schooling. Then when I realized I could get by on a waitress salary I changed my degree to something I actually enjoyed, psychology.

But I wasn't done. I needed to move to New York, to feel like I belonged somewhere. So I came here, and I had to scramble all over again because by god this is not a cheap place to live.

Now I couldn't just live here. I had to live the life, have friends have fun do New York things. Prove my right to be here I suppose.

Something has happened to me in the last couple of weeks. I am out of debt and making more money than I need. But I lost my mojo.

Plans? What plans? Marathon, grad school, buying a home, finding a new career, finding a love, losing ten pounds, traveling outside of the continent....I just can't bring myself to think about any of them. I don't feel like trying anymore.

Don't worry, its not like I don't want to live anymore. Losing my motivation to do anything that takes effort is entirely different from not wanting to breath in and out.

It could be stress from the new job. It could be that I don't know what to do with myself if I am not struggling. It could be that I always have been running to catch up, and never learned how to run when I'm already ahead. Not having to react, to be free to just do what I want sounds so great. Why don't I want anything anymore?

When will I care enough to get back into motion?

Thursday, September 21, 2006

more human than human

If you couldn't already tell I am addicted to Grey's Anatomy and love anything JJ Abrahms. So a few things to point out from tonight’s shows:

  • Screw Meredith, Bailey made me cry. TWICE. Forget the super skinny neurotic girl, give me a strong woman breakdown anytime.

  • The coolest girl in school? Callie. By far. Straight up and honest, that's the way I like 'em. Wear your weakness like a badge.

  • Flashbacks are awesome to introduce into season three. Makes you feel like family.

  • As for Six Degrees?

  • Fucking awesome cast. Shout out to any Bridget. Oh, and did any of you losers catch Sarah Vowell??? HELLO best talent in the show, just about to blow it out of the water, you wait and see.

  • Ummmmm....

  • Yeah, the best thing about six degrees was the acting talent. JJ used his old hooks and his old sound effects. Without supernatural powers or prophecies, so not such a big hit.

    His biggest gimmick for the show seems to be that he was showing how close and yet utterly separated everyone is in New York. I live it every day.

    It constantly amazes me how many people on any average day I am physically close to. All you non-New Yorkers, I dare you to count how many people you brush by in a day, as in physically touch in passing. On a non-active day I will brush 20. Yes I have counted. Subway, busy street, elevator. Contact. Fact I don't meet and get to know a minimum of 20 people a day? Not so shocking.

    Oh, and as much as I love the vowelmeister (had to give just one more shout out), but I'm not going to watch the show for her cameos.

    Many people criticize TV (oh wait, who just got rid of her cable box to watch less? oh yeah...) every medium has trash, but if you look it has its art too. Even more importantly it has humanity. And humanity is what I crave - from any medium, movies, books, or TV. You tell the story right and I'll pay attention.

    Another day I'll talk about how the trash pays for the art. Because brother reality of life it does. What do you think backs the most obscure classic novel that is important to literature and culture but only sells one hundred copies a year? Not charity my friends...


    Wednesday, September 20, 2006

    a little help from your friends

    As the marathon steadily approaches, I have learned that I am TERRIBLE at pacing. On my long runs I go at a comfortable pace, and then someone is in front of me that I want to pass or I push myself up a hill and then....cashed.

    This has happened time and time again, during the Half and on my long runs. Ironically it is worse when I run WITH someone, as the internal competitive streak kicks in.

    I just discovered that I can sign up, at no cost and no inconvenience, to be part of a pace team for the marathon. Some experienced runner wears a balloon, and you just have to stay within visual distance of the pretty bouncing ball!!

    Let's make it clear; I am not too proud to take advantage of this service. Running a marathon is enough of a challenge, I am happy to use this as a crutch until I have mastered the skill of pacing long distances. You know, which I will be by my next marathon. (Yeah, we’ll see about that one)

    Now I just have to get to the marathon expo early enough to sign up before they fill up my time goal...

    Tuesday, September 19, 2006

    corporate pirate

    Dude, pirates are everywhere, aren't they?

    The pirates movie, the books, the clothing, the accessories. Spaghetti just bought a pair of jeans for the fit and they had the skull and crossbones on one pocket. Hells bells while ctina and I were at the bar tonight two girls came in dressed as pirates.

    Yes really.

    Whatev, I can hang. What is a pirate's favorite kind of sweater? ARRRRRRgyle.

    Oh yeah, you love me for so many reasons other than my sense of humor. Get over it.

    Today I was a corporate pirate. I had a job opening, and I ended up hiring someone from my old old department even. Yes, I pillaged from my last job.

    Oh, the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Oh, the relief of having hired someone I know from experience is competent.

    It’s a good thing I enjoy rum...and had practice wearing a patch as a child. (Again yes really, two years thank you very much)

    Sunday, September 17, 2006


    Part two of the pet chronicles.

    A mere month after losing Lucky, I felt I was ready for another pet. Moving up on the size scale I decided to get a snake.

    Now, I'm not crazy, I didn't want a pet that could in any way harm me. No poison and no squeezing to death, thank you very much. After a little bit of research I decided on a corn snake, no teeth and no threat. His name was Spot.

    A mere 12 inches long he would fit in Lucky's old aquarium, and his diet would consist mice. As he was a young snake he was too small to eat the full grown fuzzy rodents, so he got to eat fetal mice. Yes, I moved up from purchasing crickets and keeping them alive to buying frozen fetal mice and keeping their little pink corpses in the freezer.

    My roommate at the time already had a fear of snakes she had to deal with thanks to me, but she also had to live in conscious denial of the fetal mice stored next to the ice cubes. Yes, she was a saint.

    Life with Spot was pretty good. He spent most of the time hiding, burrowing under the sawdust to the bottom of his aquarium. He only ate once a week, so despite the strange dietary habits he was really a great pet, on the ease scale.

    After having him for about a month I would feel guilty about him being so confined all the time, so occasionally I would let him out to play.

    (Gee, can you tell where this story is going?)

    Now, I never did this when my roomie was home, as she would kill me. After she recovered from dying of fear. So home alone I would sit in the living room while he slithered around in perfect bliss.

    One day I got a bit distracted.... and he was gone. Just like that, one minute he was there, next nowhere to be found.

    Oh boy, did I ever look high and low for Spot! I dug in the couch set, looked outside, searched both bedrooms and the bathrooms. To no avail, he had made his getaway and he could have gotten anywhere. He was only about a half an inch in diameter, tiny enough to get through many a crack.

    Now to add the situation, I was due to go on vacation in two days. To Disney World with my friends. My first ever trip to the happiest place on earth, we were planning on driving down in a test Cadillac (friends in high places) and getting a five-day pass. This meant I was going to be gone for a week, and my roomie was to be left alone with Spot amid his prison break.

    My choice of action seemed pretty clear. Lie. Lie lie lie.

    What was I going to say, "I lost the snake, good luck with that, see you in a week!" Then walk out the door? Nope, I said, "Spot has been fed and is set while I'm gone. Don't you worry about a thing. And if you look in his cage and don't see him, it is because he sleeps under the sawdust.

    Best laid plans...I got a call the second day of Disneyworld from a rather upset roomie. Seems her cousin had come over and wanted to play with Spot. To find him missing. Roomie was concerned that I might think she had caused his demise or escape on purpose, since she didn't like him. The girl felt terrible.

    Talk about guilt. So I came clean. Well, mostly. I admitted to losing Spot...while playing with him outside. Where roomie's guilt was appeased her nightmares began, but at least she got some comfort from his not being lost indoors. *cough*

    Turns out Spot would have grown to be at least five feet long. Ummmmmmm really I didn't do anywhere near enough research before getting him. Obviously.

    I had assumed maybe he would grow to be a foot or two long. Then there would have been the issue of getting attached to all the cute fuzzy mice I would have to buy and keep just for the slaughter. My life would have been overrun with pets! Cage and food for the mice, HUGE cage and stuff for Spot.

    It all worked out for the best I suppose. I like to imagine that Spot still lives, roaming the walls of that apartment complex keeping it nice and pest free for the inhabitants. Nice and warm and well-fed, living on his own terms, free as a lark.

    Oh, and you would think this is the end of the pet stories, but it continues yet...

    Saturday, September 16, 2006


    Amen sister, amen. Especially about the bastardization of Audrey Hepburn. I am boycotting The Gap, even if I do love their bras, dammit.

    Friday, September 15, 2006

    attention deficit disorder

    Once upon a time I used to be a bit of a prankster. I was known to cause a little trouble, stir things up. Actually, I used to act out a whole hell of a lot.

    I learned young that negative attention is better than no attention at all.

    Listen, I was a middle kid. Whether or not that really means anything, I got in trouble a lot as a child. And subsequently was angry and bitter for a long time about that fact. Even if, well, most times I was actually guilty.

    Putting Han solo in the freezer - in a glass filled with water. A glass glass. Causing a bit of breakage. Yep, that was me.

    Torturing my sister who was afraid of the dark while babysitting by following her around the house turning off all the lights as soon as she would turn them on. Me too.

    Egging my brother on to get him so pissed off he turned red and was practically in tears. Okay, that was my sister.

    (Not really)

    At some point I stopped getting noticed for my bad behavior. I got attention for my good work. So I stopped acting out. A lot less people got hit with whipped cream, and I believe multitudes of people are happier for it.

    Thing is, when I stopped being bad people started to see me as being nice. Which is not necessarily so so wrong, but combine nice with a tendency to be sick and you get a whole different animal. Suddenly I am fragile. People who know me furrow their brow when listening to me. If I show any sign of stress or weakness they are deeply concerned.

    People don't tease me any more. No mocking, no making fun, no jokes. My friends and I have serious conversations and talk deep thoughts. Our stories that are on the funny side tend to elicit a chuckle and a "that's funny" instead of raucous laughter.

    It could just be a simple matter of you get what you give. I wonder if I get that prankster muscle back in gear, start poking some fun at people, if things will get a little lighter around me. I'm tired of being serious. I want silly back.

    I want some negative attention goddamit.

    Thursday, September 14, 2006


    Once upon a time I had a pet green anole, and his name was Lucky.

    Lucky was cool. If you did not know, a green anole is a kind of chameleon. He was pretty easy to take care of. He lived in a small aquarium, and I fed him crickets.

    Okay, I have to admit feeding crickets to a pet is somewhat difficult. Because Lucky would only eat live crickets. Which meant that I had to buy them in bulk...and keep them alive. In effect I had to take care of crickets to take care of Lucky.

    Good times.

    One day after I had been with lucky for a couple months I discovered his cage was empty. It seems I had not put the cover on the aquarium as securely as I should.

    I looked high; I looked low, but no Lucky. I gave him up as lost, assuming he had wandered off into the great unknown.

    Eight months later I moved from that apartment in Sterling Heights to Hamtramck. (This move consisted of my friends breaking into my apartment and packing for me because I was a disorganized sumofabitch.) The move was done, my life down the stairs across town in a moving truck and up another set.

    Unpacking is always interesting. It becomes even more so when you find the skeletal remains of an old pet wrapped around part of a milk crate.

    Do you know what a green anole looks like dead? Ummmmm, still green, maybe just a bit skinnier. Lucky was fossilized in a U-shape, and discovering him was a bit of a shock. Guess he got loose, and just hung out in my closet for a spare cricket to come his way. Sadly that never happened, and he just dried up while staying still. And moved with me.

    To celebrate his life I hung Lucky on my Xmas tree that year. So he could be there with us.

    Oh, but guess what. It is hard to find a green item on a green tree. Making Lucky an ornament was yet another tragic decision in the saga, I was not able to find him before tossing the tree off the second floor balcony. So frustrating to find him and then lose him all over again. Blast!

    Lucky went down with the Xmas tree. Seems my experiences with Lucky were not so lucky after all. Doomed from the moment I named him, you may say.

    Or just doomed because he was my pet. (To be continued…)

    Wednesday, September 13, 2006

    life, the universe, and everything

    Okay, this is of great import.

    Toilet paper - over or under?

    Makes for fun shared living conditions. The ultimate in passive-aggresive relationships can be defined in this answer. ooooh, where do you stand?

    Tuesday, September 12, 2006

    bwa ha ha!!

    Now you know I love my first ipod...

    my latest love Posted by Hello

    I have replaced it twice, but I am running out of time before apple care dies.

    Now, I had considered the nano, but it only had up to 1,000 songs, and my baby above had 1,500. I was tempted yet again when the whole ipod+nike sport kit running thing got introduced, but not enough. (Although the idea of someone whispering my pace at regular intervals in my ear gives me happy chills.)

    Don't you worry, my favorite company has taken my wish and and raised me one as par for the course.

    God I love Apple. *sigh*

    Monday, September 11, 2006


    Is it healthy or unhealthy to be friends with an ex?

    Modern day culture tells us yes. Seinfeld and Elaine, Will and Grace. Where you were not compatible to be life partners, it is possible to accept the compromise and take a buddy. Assuming of course that the relationship ended somewhat amicably.

    Historically speaking, this is really new ground. Before the world got smaller and the invention of reliable birth control, the dating window was pretty darn minute to nonexistent. And as for familiar relations? Hells bells no. Fifty years ago just about any sexual relations not associated with matrimony were kept so under wraps the entire scenario was a disaster unto itself.

    What seems to be tricky is the relearning behavior curve. It takes time to become familiar with someone, and to redefine a relationship takes time and effort. Practice makes perfect, and one needs patience to learn a new role. Because that is what it is, a new role.

    You are the person that gets to hear about that person dating, and you are not supposed to feel jealous. As a friend you listen and potentially offer advice.

    This person exhibits a behavior that was negative and drove you crazy when you were dating, but it isn't your place to argue on it. As a friend you just shake your head.

    Oh, and re-learning the physical stuff, that takes time too. Once you are sexually familiar with someone it is almost easier to touch them than not. If you ex needs comfort the pull to reach out is very strong, pretty much instinctual. As a friend you look but don't touch.

    How many people do I know who are still in touch with previous lovers? Now how many of them have healthy friendships, not fraught with jealously or drama? Really, I don't know.

    When is the desire to stay friends because of an effort to remain in the other person's life at any cost waiting for an opening to get back on that horse, and when is it just because two people simply enjoy each other's company? Is it possible to be platonic once you've crossed that line?

    Sunday, September 10, 2006


    Our eyes met as I entered the room. The spark was immediate, the attraction undeniable.

    Do we play coy? Pretend not to notice what is there?

    No way that is going to happen. Thing is, he leads a high profile kind of life. A sordid evening like ours cannot be well known, cannot be part of public knowledge. We knew from the beginning this night would be the only of its kind.

    But I do have photogenic proof that I share with you, my close personal friends, of a moment of our one fabulous evening...

    Time is fleeting but memories are forever.

    Friday, September 08, 2006


    So this morning on the way to work I had an interesting experience. It lasted about twenty seconds, if that, but the idea of it has stuck with me all day.

    I was on 46th Street walking from 7th avenue to 6th avenue, when I saw a ladder ahead. It was a straight ladder, going to a second floor window. There was no major construction going on, and it was empty of climbers.

    About 75 percent of the walk able street was under the ladder. The other 25 percent of sidewalk was in front, but there was also a man on that side leaning against a car obstructing part of this path.

    It took about two seconds to asses the situation. I had about twenty feet to walk before choosing a direction.

  • Choose to walk under the ladder, risk potential bad luck. Bad luck may not exist and superstitions may be silly, so why worry?

  • But what if superstitions are real? Don't I believe there is magic in the world, phenomena beyond our comprehension?

  • To walk under the ladder would show the world that I am above fear of such silly things. To walk around the ladder would show in no uncertain terms that indeed I am intimidated by old wives tales. What kind of tough new yorker avoids walking under a ladder?

  • Yeah, I totally walked around the ladder. Fuck what other people think, I gotta follow my gut. And my gut said walk around, just in case. I'll trust my instincts over self-consciousness any day.

    Thursday, September 07, 2006

    something not so new

    Okay, so you know that guy I went out with last week?

    He emailed me, I emailed back. We talked about a second date. Then he found my blog and read it for three straight hours...and sent me an email to say maybe we were not meant to be. (And he has been checking for my follow-up since - hi artist!)

    Well, if there ever was a good way to introduce myself I suppose this is it. Love me, love my blog. Okay, you don't have to love my blog, but not hate it works well enough.

    I used to point out my blog on my match profile. Then I figured that people should be introduced to my many delightful idiosyncrasies slowly and gently, not so much all in one fell swoop. So I pulled it off. But it isn’t hidden, and I don't make it hard to find for a reason. The artist and I didn't gel and that's cool.

    Cause if there is anything I know, it is that I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it - people like me. So goddamn it back on the horse I go. :)

    Wednesday, September 06, 2006

    how dry I am

    I'm sitting here trying to think of a really good rockstar story. It seems like I don't put enough of the old classics on.

    Now for obvious reasons I'm not putting the Disney story on. Something like that requires a bit of trust.

    But what am I missing? Help me out people; give some shout-outs for classic rockstar stories if you would like to hear 'em. For the fiftieth time, as the case may be. Heck, wouldnĂ‚’t you like to have them chronicled online so you can forward on to your own friends to say, "I remember when...."

    If you don't want a spoiler you can just email me the hint and I'll work it up like nothin. Let's make some nostalgia magic together people!!

    Tuesday, September 05, 2006

    from sap to dork

    Okay, a little somethin somethin to whet your appetite while you wait for the next season of Battlestar Galactica to start.

    Make sure to check back every Tuesday and Thursday.

    End of service announcement. You may return to your regular programming.

    new job deep thoughts

    There is nothing I love more than coming up with a really good analogy.

    Really, it is like one of my top five favorite things to do. Just ask anyone stuck with me for more than a couple of hours, I'll spew out at least three.

    This new one I am quite proud of. People keep asking how the job is going, now that I have been there for a month. I was struggling with a really bad baseball analogy, but finally I got it.


    Working at this new job is like learning to rollerblade after becoming proficient in ice skating. The motions are the same, as is the concept of balance. But you have a new surface that you have to lean to navigate and react to. Oh, and a whooooole new way to brake.

    See?? Uh-huh.

    Monday, September 04, 2006


    Growing up I read. A lot. A lot-lot.

    Looking back I wonder which compulsion led me. The need to escape into another world? A desire to learn as much about life as I could? Dreams of knowing different people in different situations?

    I have an uncanny ability to sit down and concentrate fully on things. Today I read The Memory Keeper's Daughter from cover to cover. Oh, it only took me about nine hours. Yes, I took two breaks to eat in there. Here I sit one book wiser and perfectly content with my day spent on the couch.

    At some point during this it occurred to me that my views on life are directly shaped through what I have read in my life. When I meet people I ask them questions, searching for their main motivators and defining characteristics. Just like you seek out in any book. This person is keeping a secret that prevents them from being able to bond with their family. That person is scarred from being on the streets as a child, and therefore is self-abusive. Another person was saved from a life-threatening situation by a complete stranger, and now lives to repay the favor to as many strangers as possible.

    My concepts of life fall into plot lines as well. Cheat or lie and you will be punished, if not by external forces than internal. Very often people do wrong things, often for what they believe to be the right reasons. Love and friendships really do rule the world.

    What came to light today was one disturbing truth. Once broken a person tends to stay broken.

    Think of supporting characters, they by far outnumber the main ones in any story. They more often than not have a flaw that drives them. These people may not always be unhappy, but are flawed all the same.

    The reason the main character is the main character is because he or she overcomes something. Which is an experience that most of us seldom accomplish.

    If you had to define yourself as a character in a book, and not the main one, how would you describe your central flaws? And don't cheese out here, let's talk underlying reasons too. In my book how would I define you?

    Quite a mind shift eh? Often we ponder on how others see us, but do we ever look at ourselves as a compete defined character in a story? One in which we are NOT the main character? I know I hadn't before, and it was a bit of a shock on the ole' cerebellum.

    In order to truly love someone you have to love what is wrong about a person before you can love what is right. If someone only knows your bright side they don't know you at all. So if you don't realize your own flaws, can you ever really love yourself?

    Saturday, September 02, 2006

    the future is nigh

    Who knew that Big Brother would sneak up to us in the form of a mouse???!!!???

    Think of the implications here...

    Friday, September 01, 2006

    little treats

    As a gift to myself using my new improved income, I finally have bought a new pair of glasses! I always shop at the same place, See Eyewear at the Ann Arbor location. Having worked there as an optician I learned two things:

    1) That I have an incredible talent for helping people find frames. Bring anyone in and I can actually make you look better than you did sans four eyes, I promise.

    2) This particular store has the best variety of stylish and attractive glasses anywhere. Really.

    Check it out; don't I look smart and sassy????

    The other pair I had on file were heavy black with rhinestones, but at my new place of employment there seem to be quite a few people who already have the heavy frame cutting edge style look already, so I chose this streamlined look.

    Now if only I was this good at shopping for clothes or shoes. *Sigh*