Awesome!

I made an executive decision and called out sick from work today. Which gives me time to do all the stuff that I didn't have time to do this week, like purchase luggage, go to the library, and do laundry.

I also had a chance to catch up with L by phone. So I was telling her about my health insurance woes (because who doesn't want to hear that story a million times?) and at the end, I said, darkly, "Oh, I'll get my money..."

And she paused, laughed, and said "Ok, just don't get on the 11 o'clock news while trying to get your money." I think she's afraid I'm going to resort to desperate measures.

1199 is safe (for now) because I'm off to Burlington, Vermont for the weekend. Holla!

Joy & Pain, Sunshine & Rain

Had another brilliant night with The Comedian, only to reach work today and be stymied by my health care claims (still unresolved, and I finally just broke down and cried to the Quality Assurance Representative, or whatever she's called) and my job (the building where my office is located has been sold, no plans for our relocation).

Tryin' to keep it positive...chocolate might help.

UPDATE: (Job.) Several buildings are being considered as our new office space. The top pick is currently inhabited by pigeons and the homeless. During our team meeting, I jokingly suggested getting ABC/Ty Pennington/Extreme Makeover involved with the renovations, because, hey, I'm as good at making people cry as the next girl - and I'm starting to think it's not such a crazy idea after all.

Clearly, I Enjoy Spending Time In My Own Head

My horoscope today:

Some past dramas are easy to forget, but some are tougher to erase from your mind than they should be. Today you will be reminded of a past situation early in the day, and unsettling feelings will hover around you all day. This is just your subconscious working things out, so let it. Do not try to push these thoughts out of your head. Just let them fade away on their own -- they will. You cannot force yourself to forget something. It just has to go away on its own.

Lots of thinking going on over here. It's interesting that almost directly after receiving some unsettling news, I met someone, and am now negotiating a new relationship.

There's a weird kind of synergy between ending and starting.

And this new thing is kicking up all sorts of stuff for me - mostly closeness and over-analyzing and pushing someone away without even realizing you are doing it. Because, clearly, he's right there, and he's been open and honest and adult about everything. "I have problems trusting people", I keep telling him, but I'm really only trying to have faith in myself.

Stepping It Up

Last night, after Book Club, I went over to The Comedian's house for our first sleepover. (Interesting: he lives in the same building as the ARH.)

Things were going along just fine until he did something very shocking.

He called me the g-word. (And later on, he did it again.)

Yup, that's right. Girlfriend. He called me his girlfriend. Not as in, "Girlfriend, PLEASE", as in "I've included a bit in my routine about my new girlfriend."

I think that's me.

Almost as alarming: while I was lounging around my apartment this morning, the buzzer rang, and flowers (along with a funny, sweet note) were delivered.

The boy moves fast, I guess.

Doctor Visit

So...had my annual check-up this morning.

1. I think when my blood test results come back, the reading will be something like 90% white wine, based upon last night's celebratory happenings.
2. The other 10% will be pizza.
3. I got weighed. The number distressed me until I remembered that my clothing has got to account for at least 10 pounds of the total.
4. It was really strange to hear myself say that I started smoking at age 17 and quit in January 2007. I'm no math genius, but that's, um, 17 years of smoking.
5. My lungs sounded 'clear'.
6. Heart: still murmuring. Hopefully, after the EKG and Echocardiogram, I will be cleared to run the marathon.
7. The NP asked if I was currently in any pain. I considered telling her about my hangover, then decided against it.
8. The doctor asked about my job, commented that it must be stressful, to which I found myself saying "I love trauma."
9. What? Yeah, I don't know either.
10. The initial assessment was that I am 'healthy'. Fooled them!

Poetry The Morning After M's Last Going Away Party

I feel like crap.
I need a nap.
I can rap.

Pffft

Waaaaaay back in 1994, when I graduated from college with a degree in English Textual Studies (no, I still don't know what that means) and was qualified to do...absolutely nothing, I got a job at Cellular One as a Customer Care Representative.

Did I "care", as the job dictated? No, no I did not. My workday basically consisted of a lot of angry people, screaming at me over their cellular service.

And this morning, I'm right back there as I enter round 100 of trying to get reimbursement from my health insurance provider. I'm using the same words/phrases as those jerks I dealt with so long ago...you know: "unacceptable", "ridiculous", "ludricrous", "put me through to a manager", etc.

I'm the jerk. I'm the jerk.

Planning Ahead

Here in ridiculous-land, the whirl continues. My apartment is becoming a place where I drop off my stuff and sleep for a few hours in between social engagements. I guess it has something to do with summer, and the need to make plans to be out and about while the weather is nice. (Although, that theory is slightly suspect, as it has been humid and shitty for the past several days.)

L is pretty wise about this. I was semi-bitching on the phone with her last night, about the need for balance and time on my own and blah, blah, blah...and she said, "Okay, but you're also a social person."

Very true, my friend. Very true.

So, in the spirit of remaining the lovely social butterfly that I am - it's time to start planning my birthday celebration. I'm hoping that LDK will want to join forces again for a Virgoan bash...and I also have a very nice offer to host a quieter celebration at DJ's apartment. (I could do both! Let's celebrate for an entire week!)

Either way, thinking about the options is far better than remaining in a state of denial about turning 35.

Run Like The Wind. Or A Slight Breeze.

I went running in Hudson River Park this morning. It was ugly. Very hot, very humid. I ran about 2 miles, then started walking. Then jogged/walked the rest of the way - eventually (and very slowly) completing 5 miles.

Gah.

I could blame the residual effects of my latest bronchial infection. Or the weather. Or that I sat in Bryant Park last night, progressing from wine to beer and stuffing my face with cheese and crackers and all sorts of junk.

But I think I really just need to shut up about it and run. There's been a lot of talk about this marathon...not a lot of actual *doing* the training for the marathon.

In other news, had a nice short date (he was on his way to a show, I was on-call for my volunteer stuff) with The Comedian on Saturday. We ate cupcakes and played pool. He's cute. So far, so good.

My Brain Hurts...

...after spending all day at a meeting up in Rockland County, discussing branding and strategy for the communications sub-committee of this coalition that I'm involved with. Slowly, I think my job is taking over my life.

And then, on the 1 train coming home, some random dude was totally trying to have a conversation with me about yoga, which forced me to remove my ipod headphones and listen to his stupidity, which I really hate. Dude, nothing personal, but I've just spent 7 hours discussing crime victims and I need a little peace and loud music and no social interaction. M'kay?

Luckily, I'm home now, and I have a cold beer in the fridge, calling my name.

Match Addendum

Those I've ruled out:

- Someone who is an "urban hunter" looking for a "lioness/sexy partner".
- Someone who remembered me from the last time I was on match (I wasn't interested then, either), emailed me, waited 5 minutes, then emailed me *again* berating me for "being snobby" and "ignoring" him.
- A 21 year old, still living at home.
- Anyone who emails and clearly has not read my profile. Example: Emails from those who list tattoos, piercings, and sarcasm as "turn offs". I have all of those things.
- Someone who suggested we get together for a "rockin' good time".
- Anyone who unironically writes me a poem.
- Anyone who I appear to outweigh.
- Anyone who feels the need to announce that they are a doctor.
- Someone whose profile included a rant about being faithful in relationships.

Game, Set, Match

The activity on my match.com account has really picked up in the last week or so. A review of the contenders:

The Comedian
Day Job: Accountant
Hobbies: Stand Up Comedy
Status: First date, 7.10.07
Thoughts: On our date, there were times when I felt like he was performing his stand up routine for me. But he very sweetly brought me a pack of my favorite bubblegum, which I had mentioned weeks ago when we first started talking.

The Smart Guy
Day Job: Med./Grad. Student at Yale
Hobbies: Um, just getting through two degrees at Yale.
Status: Email
Thoughts: His emails are well written, witty, and interesting. He's got a degree in epidemiology, and is writing his doctoral dissertation on race and hospital care, which is pretty cool. Photos are a little blurry, though.

The Self Professed Geek
Day Job: IT Consultant
Hobbies: Geek Stuff (his words, not mine)
Status: match.com messages
Thoughts: Lives on Long Island and I'm not sure I could handle the long distance...even though it's not really that long. On the plus side, his emails are really funny.

Beach Guy
Day Job: Chemistry Teacher
Hobbies: Anything related to the beach.
Status: match.com messages
Thoughts: His protrait made me laugh out loud (in a good way). He's a little young, and lives on Long Island (see above).

Yoga Guy
Day Job: Freelance Art Director
Hobbies: Certified Yoga Instructor, Thai Massage
Status: Email
Thoughts: Absolutely love his emails, and anyone who wants to turn our first date into 'ice creamapalooza' is just fine with me.

Much Love

In the midst of The News (news that is neither good nor bad - it just is) that my ex-fiance is married to the woman he cheated on me with, thanks to:

The Lawyer, who offered to come over and sit in the dark and eat Ben & Jerry's with me;
MS, my very own cheerleader who listed all the ways that I have changed for the better since leaving the ex-fiance;
The Librarian, for asking about my date last night, thus keeping my thoughts somewhat in the present (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her, btw.) *and* for researching the character of Joe in 'When Harry Met Sally', hoping to be able to tell me of a fiery death;
DJ, who called last night and left a sweet message to see how I was feeling;
ESB, who texted from San Fransisco to let me know she was thinking about me and sending good thoughts my way;
L, who reminded me that it is okay to be thrown and sad and angry by The News;
My therapist, who left me snuffle into her tissues this morning;
and
Honeychild, who told me that my life being like a movie meant that I was slated for a happy ending.

Life *Is* Like The Movies

Sally: He just met her... She's supposed to be his transitional person, she's not supposed to be the ONE. All this time I thought he didn't want to get married. But, the truth is, he didn't want to marry me. He didn't love me.
Harry: If you could take him back now, would you?
Sally: No. But why didn't he want to marry me? What's the matter with me?
Harry: Nothing.
Sally: I'm difficult.
Harry: You're challenging.
Sally: I'm too structured, I'm completely closed off.
Harry: But in a good way.
Sally: No, no, no, I drove him away. AND, I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had kids when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.

Sicko

My health insurance battles continue.

I *have* received a check partially reimbursing me for my January medical expenses. However, December is 'somewhere in the claims department' and I'm just starting to reluctantly pursue all of the other months.

To add to the fun, they refuse to cover my prescription for Zyrtec which prevents my allergic reaction to cats. When I spoke with them this morning, they stated they do not cover any antihistamines, even with an authorization letter from my doctor. The good news is, I had no problem getting my inhaler, so at least when the allergic reaction happens, I won't have to go to the hospital.

Fabulous.

Drawing upon the lessons about advocacy learned in both graduate school and in, you know, life - my plan is to present myself personally at their offices on Wednesday morning to resolve my claims. I have a bad head cold which might help my cause: if it continues as it has today, I'll be sneezing and snotting and blowing my nose all over the lucky claims agent who gets to help me.

Things To Do When You Find Yourself Awake At 2:38 AM For No Good Reason

1. Catalogue mosquito bites on your legs from a few days ago, notice a few new bites, and start to think you have bedbugs again.
2. Tear apart your bed (mattress, sheets, pillowcases, comforter, the whole deal) looking for phantom bedbugs.
3. Track the stuff you will get rid of *this* time around if you do have to battle the bedbugs again.
4. See a rogue mosquito during one of your searches, remember that you have a window open, and thus try to mentally walk away from the bedbug scare.
5. Close your window and turn on the air conditioner.
6. Try to sleep. It is now 3:12 AM.
7. New mosquito bites start itching, turn on the lights, locate bendryl cream, apply.
8. Bites still itch - wail on mattress in frustration. It is now 3:41 AM.
9. Think about life a little bit. Specifically, your life.
10. Get freaked out about not taking care of yourself, physically or emotionally.
11. Talk yourself down the ladder again.
12. Still wide awake, empty the clean dishes from the dishwasher.
13. It is now 4:07AM.
14. Force yourself to think calming thoughts. Realize it's not working.
15. Wonder if drinking warm soymilk (the only kind of milk in the house) will have the same somnolent effects as warm regular milk.
16. Nope.
17. Get up to use the bathroom. You drank a lot of soymilk.
18. Since it is now 4:38 AM and you are wide awake, pack for your weekend trip to DC.
19. Assess clothing choices, repack for trip.
20. For lack of anything better to do, tweeze eyebrows.
21. Look up estimated time of sunrise on the internet. Think about taking a walk to see the sunrise. Dismiss idea.
22. Water the plants.
23. Get back into bed, and drift off to sleep at 5:17 am - 45 minutes before your alarm clock is scheduled to go off.

Isolation Booth

I had plenty of offers for things to do yesterday: picnic in Prospect Park, visit the Museum of Natural History, go out to dinner, eat a home-cooked dinner, watch a parade and fireworks in NJ, go to a movie night, indulge in an afternoon drinkfest, watch the NYC fireworks from a fabulous roofdeck, or go to the beach.

I chose to remain in my apartment for the entirety of the day, in my pajamas, alternately watching the Project Runway marathon on Bravo and napping.

The only active thing I did yesterday was to think about being described as 'guarded' by both a close friend and a stranger in a bar, within days of one another. If it happens a third time, I'm gonna have to believe it's true.

From The Home Office In...

Since Cherry did a list of 10, I'm gonna do a list of 10.

1. I am currently very, very tan. While on vacation, I used 30 sunblock all week but am still tan (thank you, 50% Italian genes!). I look really good tan. I know this sounds conceited, but seriously, I look good. I'm actually thinking it's a shame to waste my tan hotness on work right now. I should be out somewhere slutting it up.

2. I, too, feel like I am the only one at work today. I am debating going outside for lunch because I'm sure I'll see a parade of people, walking toward the subway, released at an early hour from their jobs.

3. Then again, it's freezing in my office and going outside would help me defrost.

4. One of the only things I miss about my corporate ex-job was the 'surprise' pre-holiday go home early. I'll be here until 8 tonight. Sigh.

5. After staying in my apartment while I was away, and with me through the weekend until this morning, MS packed up and left to go to work, then Boston. Where he lives now. It's gonna be a little sad to go home tonight and not have a roommate to giggle with.

6. Monday night drinkfest? Check. Druids? Check. Wine followed by beer? Check. Bad idea? Check.

7. In the immortal words of Phil Collins, Genesis, Abacab...I've received 'No Reply At All' to my missive to the ARH. Ah well. I thought about it during vacation, and realized that this is a man who didn't choose to be with me - not once, but twice. Surely I deserve something better than that.

8. Damn, it's really cold in here. Despite my self-professed hotness.

9. Has anyone tried the new 'Frosty Freeze' from Wendy's? Man, those are good. Once again, I'm going to choose to believe that milkfat is essential for marathon training.

10. And speaking of running, I really need to get my ass in gear. Everything is in place for November 18th (hotel, cheering section, race registration, gear) except for my ability to run 26.2 miles.

Back

I'm home.

It was quite an adjustment to wake to my alarm this morning, blowdry my hair, and apply make up. Stuff my feet into high heels. Ride the subway. Sip coffee and listen to my iPod.

I'm trying to hold onto that vacation feeling for as long as possible. So, please, New York, keep your distance for a little bit longer...

Almost...

I've never gone on vacation before when I've had social work clients. I'm worried about them. I've already alerted my co-workers about who they might be hearing from while I'm away...called each person to make sure they are 'okay' before I leave (or as close to okay as they can be)...and given my cell phone number (for emergencies) to our admin.

I just need to let go. Worrying about my clients isn't fair to them. Or to my skills as their therapist.

So...I've set my 'out of office' responses on email and voicemail. Cleared off my desk. Updated my files.

The only thing left to do is to get a pedicure and have some goodbye cocktails with MS & Groom.

Why am I blogging?

Madness. Madness, I Tell You

I'm going on vacation on Friday.

My first vacation since I started working last August.

I cannot explain how much I am looking forward to being away.

However.

The mad dash to get ready to go on vacation at work (scheduling/rescheduling clients, reassuring clients, cleaning up my desk, wrapping up the school project for the year, attending meetings, finishing another grant, returning phone calls, etc.) and at home (packing, cleaning my apartment, errands, laundry, etc.) will almost surely be the end of me.

I haven't stopped. For about 3 weeks. It's going to take a significant part of my vacation just to slow down from the gearing up for vacation.

And somewhere, in the back of all this craziness, is me feeling just a little bit panicked that I am going to be in public in my bathing suit.

(And pushed even further down is the knowledge that MS & Groom will be moved out of the city by the time I return.)

I Am A Badass

Last night, after reserving precious lawn space at Bryant Park for the screening of Annie Hall, I ran over to the drug store to pick up a prescription that I had dropped off an hour beforehand.

When I arrived, I grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the cooler, and took my place at the back of the 12 person line at the pharmacy counter. I noted that the store was not air conditioned and it was already unpleasantly hot. I opened my soda and began to drink.

I waited. And waited. And rolled my eyes and tapped my foot. And waited some more. I could feel everyone in line getting more agitated by the minute.

And then, something awesome happened. A woman near the front of the line, whose prescription had apparently been 'lost', started having a meltdown. A meltdown of epic proportions. She started screaming and swearing and saying she was going to faint. At one point, she even went behind the counter and into the room where the drugs are stored so she could yell directly at the pharmacist.

As her tirade continued, the people in line started mumbling about the wait and the ineptitude. This woman's freak-out was releasing a communal freak-out of sorts.

After another 20 minutes, I reached the front of the line, where 5 people were now yelling at the staff. I got my prescription (lucky!), paid, and ducked out of the commotion. As I was walking towards the exit, I noticed the bottle of Diet Pepsi in my hand. Unpaid for Diet Pepsi.

Paying would mean waiting in line again.

And as I walked out the door without stopping at the register, I convinced myself that the soda was payment to me, owed for my time spent waiting in line. Yes, that's right. I neglected to pay for my soda. Kinda sorta on purpose.

I HATE that drug store, and although they are all over NYC, I will make every effort to avoid patronizing them again. I'm not going to name the store, but it rhymes with, um, Schmane Need.

Bullets Are My Friend

• Friday Night: The Librarian and I go to Bamboo52 for dinner. We take full advantage of happy hour until 9 pm. (Holla!). We eat a lot of sushi. We falter while doing the math on the bill. Later on, we are joined by MS and his friends who are in from Boston. We drink more. I freak out a little when the bar turns off the Yankees/Mets game in favor of the Daytime Emmy Awards. I tear up when asked about MS/Groom's pending move to Boston, and then realize it is time to go home.
• Saturday morning: I meet up with HC for brunch. I decide I need a Bloody Mary. We journey up to tha Bronx for the Yankees/Mets game. She's wearing her bright orange 'Mr. Met' shirt. This goes over like a lead balloon with most Yankees fans, including me. We have some really expensive beers. We laugh uncontrollably at the concept that Mr. Met should be called 'fathead'. The good guys win. After the game, we meet up with JP and Buzzkill who only stay for about 10 minutes (Buzzkill strikes again!). Shortly after they leave, we are approached by Shaun, a 22 year old Yankee fan from L.I. and his friends Sam/Jeff (he used both names) and Bobcat (no, I'm not kidding). On the way home on the subway, HC and I wonder why we attract such random guys when we go out together.
• Saturday night: I resist going across the street for a pint of ice cream. I read my book club selection. I watch crappy movies on TBS. I flirt with the idea that I am lame. Buzzkill strikes again! (Oh wait, this one's squarely on me.)
• Sunday morning: I wake up thinking about the ARH. I had a strange dream about him during the night.
• Confession time: (No, not at church. Don't you know me at all by now?) I sent him an email. I'm not sure what I'm expecting from this, probably nothing, but I feel good about what I wrote and about sending it.
• Sunday afternoon: The Jerz. The deck. The sun. The Peanut.
• Sunday night: NJ Transit. The rage. The train delays. The crowded subway. Finally, the apartment. The air conditioning. The bed.

Not Me

I'm so pissed off at the shit that's been going down at my job lately. Not the work, or the clients, or the kids on the school project.

No, I'm talking about my co-workers.

Yesterday morning, I was the sole employee in the office, covering the hotline while two people were at all day conferences, another was on vacation, and another was taking comp time. (This is not the first time in the past few weeks that this has happened.) Towards 1pm, in addition to everything else that I was trying to finish, I got a call to consult on a case that was in the hospital, which is a 10 minute walk from my office. With relief, I noted that one of my colleagues was due to arrive at work shortly. I figured she could at least cover the phones while I went to see the patient. However, while I was on the phone, she came into the office, and then, without checking in with me, promptly signed herself out to lunch for an hour.

WHAT THE FUCK?

I've been here, alone for the past 5 hours. Don't you think I'd like to take a break? Get something to eat? Because of this fucked up scheduling, my afternoon of comp time turned into me running out the door 1/2 hour before I would have left anyway. (So much for my glorious plans of clean laundry.)

There's no sense of teamwork here. This has been apparent from the very first day I came to work, but lately it's grown more and more obvious. Everyone looks out for themselves, their own schedule, their own activities. And despite my best efforts (group supervision, monthly team meetings) nothing changes.

The problem is that I'd like to do the same things. I'd like to schedule my time out of the office without thought to the impact on our clients or my colleagues. I'd like to tell everyone to fuck right off.

But I don't want to be that person.

Today

• Much like Jay Z, I "can't let the day go bye without me being fly, fresh, and def".
• I'm so immersed in my job right now, that, at any given moment, I have all kinds of facts spinning around in my head, like "alcohol is the most commonly used date rape drug" and "85% of all sexual assaults are committed by someone the victim knows". Fun for me and everyone around me.
• Looking in the mirror this morning, I had the startling thought that I look more and more like my dad as I get older. If this continues, I'm likely to develop an Italian accent and start wearing cardigans purchased in 1962.
• Yesterday, during a particularly low moment of yet another presentation to apathetic 8th graders, I just stopped speaking. And stood there. And thought about leaving. The kids did not seem to notice my lapse, as they were busy with side conversations, wandering around the classroom, and starting mini-fights with one another.
• I feel like a match.com loser...8 emails sent, no replies. I have received 2 unsolicited emails: one containing a slightly creepy poem about my 'mesmerizing eyes' and the other from someone who lives in the midwest.
• Today, following three 12-hour workdays, I'm leaving early. I have something very exciting planned. Laundry.

Yikes

I am so tired today that my emotions are bordering on the irrational. Which happens even when I'm not tired, but it seems especially apparent today that I am ready to burst into hysterical tears/laughter at any given time.

I've been at work since 7:00 am, teaching three classes in a row to seriously bored 8th grade students about 'Relational Styles: Aggressive, Passive, Passive-Aggressive and Assertive', followed by a school staff meeting, 2 counseling sessions with clients and a conference call. And blah, blah, blah...cry me a river, because this is the job that I signed up for, but I'm also trying to cover our hotline because we have 3 staff members out of the office, along with returning the gazillion phone calls and emails that built up over the weekend.

Adding to the stress, we got word today that our temporary supervisor (who's been 'temporary' and a 'supervisor' since January) is quitting in less than a month. I wonder how much longer I will have a job here.

I suspect that heading to the gym and running will clear out my head a bit...but I'm equally convinced of the worth of going home and planting my ass on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a silly movie.

She's A Maniac

I am so damn happy today it hurts.

It's payday and I have this new pink grapefruit bodywash that I love and my school program kids actually had an intelligent debate about sexual harassment this morning and I'm about this close to being accepted to a trauma studies certification program and later I'm hanging out with DJ, Bons, and BC and tomorrow I'm going to the beach.

Even the horror of trying on bathing suits this morning didn't bring me down. (Okay, maybe that sucked a little, but I recovered pretty quickly.)

Happiness. Weird.

Almost Famous

Tonight, The Lawyer and I will be journeying over the the NYPL for a screening of a documentary about sexual violence by a social service agency that provides internships in filmmaking for high school students. I'm in the movie, giving a tour of our Emergency Department and talking about our Rape Crisis program services. (And offering my opinions about sexual assault prevention strategies, patriarchal models, and victim-blaming.)

Helping with this project was an interesting experience. The kids I met with were smart and interested and well-prepared regarding the topic. And their questions were tough! It can be hard to eloquently explain why rape occurs, and how societal norms contribute to the problem. Or what "fair" punishment for sexual violence would look like.

The Lawyer will be there tonight for moral support mockery, as I generally hate seeing/hearing myself on screen. Afterwards, we'll cope with my fame with empanadas and sangria.

Buy This Book, Read This Book, Love This Book

June 20th, y'all! The latest from Megan.

Right Back In It

Thanks to some prodding by OrangemanMike, I'm excited to announce that we'll be running the Philadelphia Marathon on 11.18.07! Yep, a full one this time. I'm back to my training schedule, healthier eating, etc. (We can just ignore this past weekend, when I sat on my ass and ate anything I wanted. Actually, isn't that the whole point of the ridiculousness of marathon training? That you can eat with abandon?) I'm even going to join this Master's swim team for more consistent cross training.

Aaaaaand, thanks to some prodding by my book club girl, Nashville, I've signed up with match.com again. I haven't entirely closed the door on The Musician (or MySpaceGuy, for that matter) but it's good to have options. And when I say 'options', I mean 'men between the ages of 33-40, residing within 2 miles of zip code 10019'.

In The Interest Of Clearing This Out Of My Head

My Engagement, 2001

__________

On a Friday evening, we're drinking margaritas in his sister's small kitchen, looking out at gray skies and trying to summon excitement for the upcoming Memorial Day Weekend. His brother-in-law is ducking out into the drizzle to check the progress of our dinner on the grill.

At one point, he interrupts the silence to ask if he is too old for me, and I feel everyone's head swivel, anticipating my answer. This is an unexpected question, asked lightly, but with layers. There are always layers. I look up at him, trying to gauge his mood. I finally shake my head and smile a little bit, but it doesn't break the tension. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. I reach out and awkwardly take his hand.

__________

Earlier in the day, at lunch, my co-worker asks about my relationship. She wonders if I love my boyfriend, if we have a future together. I don't trust her, so I order another drink and change the subject. When we get back to work, I realize that I am slightly drunk.

__________

The blender is whirring, preparing another round of drinks. He is unusually attentive - refilling my glass, asking if I have enough to eat. He talks about his temporary job with a landscaper. He is content. I notice that he has showered and shaved in between work and here, and the knowledge of this effort creates a slight rush of affection. Still, I look at his movements and feel like I'm watching from behind a glass wall, completely disconnected.

Saying goodbye is going to be easy.

__________

On Tuesday night, I leave work and travel down the highway toward home. His home, his house, not mine. Never mine. I can't stand the thought of being there, so I pass the exit and continue south, heading toward the ocean.

The awfulness of the day before has brought me to this point. I sit in the parking lot, in my car with the radio off, staring at the waves. This is rock bottom, I think. I care about nothing. For the first time in a long time, I know what I need to do.

When I walk into the house several hours later, I am unconcerned about being late. He meets me in the front hallway. Strangely, he is not angry. He tells me that he was worried, and tries to kiss me. When I walk past him into the kitchen, I see that he has made dinner. There are flowers and a greeting card, demonstrating his apology.

That night, I lie awake in the dark, listening to him snore beside me, planning my escape.

__________

We open champagne, pouring a bit into each plastic cup. Before we drink, he asks everyone to name something they are grateful for. When my turn comes, I know the right answer to give: for my amazing boyfriend, who loves me so much. My delivery is flat. No-one cares.

We toast, and his brother-in-law notices that my boyfriend hasn't said anything.

"Me?", he says, happy to be the center of attention. He draws out the moment. Inwardly, I roll my eyes.

"I'm grateful for this." He takes a jewelers box from his pocket, holding it out to me. I am frozen. I am panicking. All I can think about is the absurdity of getting engaged while wearing baggy carpenter jeans and a ratty t-shirt. I take the box and open it. A perfect diamond, the one I've always wanted. Without knowing why, I slip the ring on my finger. (After, when I can be private with my thoughts again, I will remember that he had to be prompted to ask The Question. I'd been obedient for so long. Why would he even need to ask to be mine?) His family erupts in celebration.

I am not present. No-one cares.

__________

The ring feels foreign to me. Heavy. I am afraid. We are linked, he and I, in some kind of awful dance, playing itself out over and over again.

Content

The good thing about being sick is that you go to bed extremely early on a night when you would normally be out and about doing ridiculous things and drinking too much.

And now, I'm up early, with the whole day in front of me. And a bin of recently-returned-from-my-parent's-garage-bedbug-free books. (I didn't realize how much I was missing my books until I got them back. I'm a frequent re-reader.)

Jamba Juice and Central Park are calling. Along with a possible date hang-out with The Musician.

M

During therapy this morning, S. asked about my 'date' with The Musician last week. I'm still puzzling over my feelings and trying to discern if it *was* a date rather than just hanging out. I really want to stay as far away as I can from the over-analysis that I am prone to in these situations (read: situations = social interactions with the opposite sex) and it was near the end of our session, so I kept my answer brief.

Then S. said, jokingly, "Please don't tell me that his name is M_______."

Um, it is.

I don't want to spoil anything before it's begun, but I don't have great luck with M_______s. First there was M_______Texas, who moved to Dallas without saying goodbye. Followed by The ARH, whose real name was M_______. And most recently M_______LawStudent.

And now there is M_______Musician. Damn. We're quite obviously doomed.

(Don't you see what a good job I'm doing of not over-analyzing????)

The flip side of this silliness about the 'curse' of a particular name is my tendency to step back from something that might hurt me in the future. For the past week, I've been tempering The Musician's positives with real and imagined concerns. But, at the same time, trying not to do that, as I believe that predicting negative outcomes will bring about the hurt feelings that you are trying to avoid.

Reaching out while holding back has never worked very well for me in the past. Isn't paying attention to something as trivial as a name just another form of making someone pay for your history?

Major Suckitude

My brother and I have been working on / joking about something called "The Warehouse Theory". The basic tenet is that you complete almost no training for a race, thus 'warehousing' and storing your energy so it can be harnessed during the event. (BC explained to me on Saturday that there is absolutely no science that would support this theory.) Well, I've been inadvertently 'warehousing' since the half-marathon. Here's how that worked out for me:

I ran a 10k yesterday.

Correction: I jogged/walked a 10k yesterday.

It sucked. Big time.

It was humid. I wanted to stop running less than a mile in. No part of the race felt good; I actually felt ill for most of the course. The only reason I didn't drop out was because The Peanut was cheering me on, and I couldn't think of a way to explain to a 3-year-old that I was quitting. My time was horrendous, and I wanted to hide my face when they announced my name at the finish line.

I think I'm still in for a marathon in November...but yesterday was all about showing me that a month of sitting on my ass doesn't make for a pleasant running experience. Time to turn it up a notch (or ten).

Good Times, Good Times

You know what's strange? Me. I am strange right now. Because I'm in a happy mood. I'm walking around smiling. Smiling. At nothing.

Things are going well.

Work is under control, and there's a 3 day weekend coming in a few hours. I've got some good plans in place, and fun stuff for next week too. I'm gonna pick up my new awesome pants from the tailor this evening, and those are sure to set the world on fire.

I don't think my positive mental state is from the externals, though. I just feel like I'm in a really good place. And I hope that this lasts for a while.

Small Victory

This morning, the cranky lady at the bakery remembered my order without me telling her.

I'm still working on getting an acknowledgment of my cheerful hello from the chronically irritated Russian barber dude on my block, but someday. Someday.

In Like!

New character alert:

I just got into work after a 2 hour walk through Brooklyn with The Musician.

Wow.

Funny, intelligent, cute. Tattooed. Great speaking voice, great singing voice.

He's dreamy.

...and now back to my regularly scheduled workday.

In Love!

Yes, it is Springtime, and I have successfully rebounded from my Saturday night melancholia, and I can positively say that I am in love (or lust, take your pick).

I just got a new handbag from Banana Republic. I frequently find myself gazing at it adoringly, and I do believe I fell asleep last night clutching it in my arms.

My second (and at the moment, lesser) love object is the owner/proprietor of the new clothing store on the ground level of my apartment building. I was in there yesterday for about a 1/2 hour while JP tried on 'going out shirts'. Just before we left, he introduced himself, and his name is [something Italian which I wasn't really paying attention to, distracted by his green eyes and cute accent]. The downside is that he is quite possibly prettier than I am, and probably thinks that JP is my boyfriend.

I might have to stop by on my way home from work for some "clothes shopping". Unfortunately, the only thing on sale right now are bikinis.

Disaster. Di-Sas-Ter.

I went to G&E's wedding last night with one simple, attainable goal in mind (formulated with DJ on Friday while she was on the train to Maryland): find a cute boy to kiss. Not to date, and certainly not to marry. Just someone to kiss.

When I couldn't find a place card with my table assignment, I should have taken that as a sign to turn around and go home.

I think I was the only single person there. I certainly felt like the only single person there.

There was an extra place setting at my table, so at least I was able to 'joke' with other guests about my invisible date. By the end of the night, my invisible date had a whole storyline assigned to him. You know, how he didn't have much to say, but I really thought there was a lot of potential...how we met at our local produce stand while wrangling over the last of the papayas...etc.

The conversation about my invisible date got old fast...not on my end, because I can indulge in that sort of ridiculous all night, but it looked like my table-mates were getting a little uncomfortable.

I excused myself to call L&D, who pointed out that me making a 40 minute phone call to them didn't exactly indicate that I was having a good time, and urged me to pack it in for the night.

I returned to the wedding to find Bon Jovi playing, and I rocked out to that a little bit. (My invisible boyfriend likes them too, so we danced together. He's fun like that.)

And then returned to my table and sat next to Buzzkill, who asked if I was dating anyone, which led into a discussion about my bad luck, and then a recounting of my 'bad luck' when it seemed that she didn't really believe that I had had bad luck, which devolved into a conversation about JP and what his intentions are for their future.

I finally wised up and said my goodbyes when the song that would have been my wedding song was played, and even the chocolate fondant couldn't compensate for how shitty I was feeling.

No kissing, no cute boy. But on the bright side, there was also no inapppropriate drunkneness, crying, or comfort eating.

Applicable?

I am blogging maniac today!

2 quotes. The first one forwarded by The Lawyer, source unclear (she referenced both the Bible and Gilmore Girls. As far as I know, she is not an avid Bible reader, but who knows. Maybe she 'got religion' over the past week.)

"Furthermore, it was a drama played for laughs and speed, yet its greatest
theme was dead serious: Love is its own reward, but it can leave some of the
best humans unrewarded."

The second from the book I am reading for an upcoming book club. I want to be able to describe someone in this way. Candidates for this honor are welcome to apply through my email.

"...in the face very like a horse eating an apple through a wire-netting
fence."

Bullets

• Last night, I hung out with my friends Absolut Ruby Red and Club Soda. Later on, we were joined by Ben & Jerry. My old nemesis, Camel Light, was there, but I managed to ignore him.
• re: Mystery Girl. I'm not sure she would even have a blog, because that would automatically render her less mysterious.
• I have no plans tonight, other than a haircut. I am PSYCHED. Can anyone say Lost, Season 2?
• I'm going to wedding on Saturday by myself. I will only know JP and his girlfriend, whom I've privately nicknamed 'buzzkill'. She kinda hates me. This should be a fun night.
• Several friends have said 'But maybe you'll meet someone at this wedding!' with a kind of glee that should only be reserved for sappy 80's movies or romance novels. While I appreciate their enthusiasm, such statements ensure that I will be stumbling my drunk ass home alone on Saturday night.
• Maybe I won't be alone. I can always rely on my old friend, McDonald's Extra Value Meal #2 to provide support and companionship.
• I should probably start spending more time with other friends, like Fruits & Vegetables or Lean Proteins.

New Name

Due to some unintentionally wacky hijinks involving me at work this morning at o'dark thirty and an unlocked supply closet, I am currently being referred to by my co-workers as 'mystery girl'. (And I can't think of a way to explain this without a long, boring story about our key hiding 'system' along with the, ahem, rigidity of my colleagues, so I'll spare you the details. You can thank me later.)

I think I kinda like it. I wonder if it will stick.

And now I am going to mysteriously go to the gym. And mysteriously run 5 miles.

Vows of Poverty

I woke up this morning thinking about my finances. Specifically, that I am living paycheck to paycheck, and I really hate it.

So I lay in bed going over my expenses (sexy!) and came to realize that there is a very definite reason why I am struggling to get by each month (other than, you know, that I'm a social worker and I live in New York City, and I go out a lot.)

My stupid insurance company owes me $1600 in medical reimbursements from 4 months of out-of-pocket expenses! (And my ex-fiance owes me $28,000 - but that's a story for another time.)

I'm no math genius, but I believe that an extra $400 each month would surely make a difference in my budget. And so my mission of the day (directly after writing a grant that is due tomorrow, and seeing clients, and all that job stuff) is to harrangue and harass my insurance provider until I get paid.

And thus it is written and thus it shall be.

Help Me Help You

It is hard not to feel like the proverbial crazy lady as you are in line at the local Food Emporium, stuffing your groceries into your gym bag in an effort not to use any plastic bags so that Al Gore doesn't get mad at you.

Along the same vein, I could've had a hand in 'erasing' domestic violence (apart from my job, that is) had I managed to get my ass out of bed on Sunday morning.

Rage!

On Friday night, after spending a very pleasant Happy Hour with DJ and B, a man ran up behind me and grabbed my ass as I exited the subway station.

And when I turned around and yelled at him about it, he tried to make believe it had been an accident, and that I was making a big deal out of nothing.

And when I refused to accept this fiction, he proceeded to follow me down the street, calling me names.

I don't know if I'm angrier at him for his behavior, or at myself for believing (at one point) that I was overreacting. Or mostly mad at myself that I'm mad at myself for an incident that was clearly all his fault.

The crazy thing is that, if I took a poll, I'm sure that almost every one of my female friends could tell a similar story of some kind of violation in their history. And it makes me wonder, despite the work that I am engaged in (which requires a fair amount of hope in prevention and change) if there is any possibility of ending this kind of entitled behavior.

I hate that I am still thinking about it this morning.

An Apology Of Sorts

Dear Body:

I am truly sorry for my eating habits over the past 2 weeks. In particular:

- multiple Boston Kreme infractions (Dunkin' Donuts)
- an entire 12" meatball parm sub (Sal's)
- pint of Chocolate Chocolate Chip ice cream (Haagen Daz)
- 12" cheesesteak, extra Cheese Whiz (Philly)
- pork fried rice, egg roll (Red Apple Chinese)
- fried platter: onion rings, cheese sticks, calamari, chicken fingers (Landsdowne)
- assorted Hershey's miniatures (office)

I am hoping the brown rice with organic vegetables that I just ate will serve as partial atonement.

Sincerely,
ridiculouschick

Faith, Part III

My mission lately, other than pointless television or binge eating/drinking, is to put together the puzzle of my relationship history, in the hopes that a full picture will bring clarity.

A friend recently asked if I was dating, and when my response was non-committal, he asked if I even wanted to get married, ever. As if maybe I wasn't applying myself. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I keep picking the same kind of person on purpose. Maybe I'm missing the warning signs. Maybe I self-sabotage more than I realize.

I can't see it right now. I had some profound (deeply profound, trust me) thoughts when waking up this morning, related to a concept from Harry Potter and free will v. compulsion (oh yes, profound) but they disappeared somewhere between getting out of bed and my arrival at work.

Your Upper Lip Is Part Of Your Face, I Guess

As I discovered this morning, the people at Nair are not kidding when they warn that you cannot use that stuff on your face.

Television Is My New BFF...

...along with red wine and the gulping of the aforementioned red wine.

As of today, I'm all caught up with Veronica Mars (iTunes), Ugly Betty, Notes From The Underbelly, Brothers & Sisters (ABC.com), and Lost, Season 1 (Netflix).

Oh, and now I can actually watch shows as they are broadcast because I've finally figured out how to split the signal from my internet connection. (If anyone from Time Warner cable is reading this, I am totally kidding.)

My guilty pleasure of the moment is The Bachelor, which I cannot stop watching, especially since I attended grad school with one of the contestants. Seriously, it's just so cheese-tastic and awful, particularly when they show him tooling around in his I-have-a-small-penis sports car, or when they play "Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong" in homage to the 'Officer and a Gentleman' theme. Awkward dating situations/interactions are mighty fun when you're not personally involved.

If I put some serious effort into it, I can be ready for the new Grey's Anatomy tomorrow night, and get through Lost, Season 2 by Saturday afternoon.

See? I was all worried about goals and boredom and lack of direction and blah, blah, blah after the half marathon, but I'm going to be just fine. (I could probably lay off some of the 'celebratory' eating, but that's a post for another day.)

Mantastic!

Friday night got a little bit ugly when MS, Groom and I found ourselves in a local sports bar, devouring a platter of fried food and mocking the nicknames on the back of a softball team's jerseys (for some reason "Clutch" inspired particularly virulent derision).

And then, in the midst of our ridicule, we looked over and realized that this was JP's softball team. Which meant that A. was there.

(Here's the A. summary that I provided for Groom on Friday night: 'Dated briefly, abruptly blew me off only to call three weeks later to explain that he had rediscovered his Judaism, and was already dating other women, but might be open to dating me at a later time, should his religious preferences change.')

Ugh. So I debated for a bit, knowing that it would be better if I made the first move, but also aware that I was 4 vodka-and-sodas in, and not entirely coherent. I also spent that time begging (in vain) for MS and Groom to not be so blatantly obvious in their attempts to check him out, having never met him while we were dating.

Finally, I just sucked it up and went to talk to him. Which wasn't as bad as it could have been, but wasn't entirely comfortable either. Let's put it this way: I was giving myself the internal 'shut up' command several times during the conversation, and there were lapses of silence, and maybe some not-entirely-covert looks exchanged among the softball team.

Between the J. situation, and the JP mess (which I can't even get into) and then this awkwardness with A. and the utterly bad idea of going out with MySpace guy - I think it's time to take a dating break for a while. All signs point to disaster.

Proof

Half Marathon Photos!

(Note: The clock on the second photo reflects gun time, not chip time. My actual finish time was 4 minutes faster.)

(I don't know why I felt the need to clarify that.)

Faith, Part II

Maria: Where the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.

Oh, I believe it. MySpaceGuy, who I've been crushing on for a while now, has asked me out for a drink next week.

Can I get an Amen?

The Case of the Disappearing J.

So, to turn our attention briefly away from the whole running thing...

I have not heard from J. in 12 days, and I'm thinking that's a pretty good indicator that we're not going to continue dating. (I know. I'm quick like that.) The last communication that I did receive from him was a text message that he was on his way out of town, and that he would call me when he got back. I'm still waiting.

Last Friday, I sent a short email asking what was happening, explaining that I really liked him, and that I wanted the chance to continue to get to know him. No response. And I knew on Sunday, when he failed even to send the barest acknowledgement regarding the race, that we were done.

I just don't understand why.

I'm not so much sad as I am frustrated. I felt myself getting closer and closer to him. I felt like I wanted to stop dating other people. And if you're not on the same page as I am, fine. But the utter lack of communication regarding the end infuriates me. Sure, breaking things off with someone is uncomfortable, but it's part of being an adult. You've seen me naked! Which by my rules means that you at least owe me this last conversation.

This is such a familiar pattern for me. Since I've lived in NYC, I've reached this point with every guy that I've dated - that space between casual dating and exclusivity - only to see the relationship abruptly terminate. Is it me? Or is this city over-populated with a particular brand of committment-phobic manchild?

All I know is that this kind of behavior got old in the 5th grade.

Missing

I just took the half marathon countdown clock off the blog.

It feels really strange not to have this goal in front of me. My planner, which has tracked my training progress for the past four months, has no required mileage noted today. I don't have to lug my gym bag to work with me.

I'm a little restless and a little bored. And the idea of the NYC marathon looks better and better.

2:19 and Something

Yeah, so that would be me, about 20 minutes after finishing my first half-marathon. The picture is taken by my own camera phone, in OrangemanMike's car, on the way to get our celebratory eat on.

Don't I look happy? I was ecstatic.

The race was beautiful. It was also one of the hardest things I have ever done. When my trainer said that running was 90% mental, she knew what she was talking about. Because you can prepare all you want, but when it comes down to it, it's just you and the road and 13.1 miles stretching ahead of you.

That being said, the crowds were incredibly helpful during my quest for the finish line. Especially my friends and family in the crowds who had gotten up early to get to the race site, and had waited for me to run by them, only to walk to the next location and wait again. It was chilly yesterday if you weren't running.

There were stretches with no spectators (and I had chosen to run without my iPod) but even those miles felt good. The best feeling might have been at mile 10, when I made a left turn and saw the ocean, and knew that I was going to finish. (Or at mile 9, when I was offered Oreos, M&M's and Jelly Beans at the 'High Energy Station' and managed to find humor in my refusal.)

I ran the whole way. I beat my goal time. I actually sprinted across the finish line.

And when I was asked (by The Librarian) about a minute after I stopped running if I was going to run the NYC full marathon, I replied without hesitation.

"Oh yeah!"

Spring Cleaning

Hi Everyone:

I'm still not feeling great, but I'm running this Sunday. I went to my therapist this morning, and will be doing some healing work with LK this afternoon, which should (hopefully) empty out some of this junk in my head.

Because running with as little baggage as possible seems ideal.

I'll be back online Monday, and with any luck, be able to post some pictures from the race. Thanks for all the support.

ridiculous

Burn This Motha Down!

Wikipedia, "Scorched Earth" entry:

A scorched earth policy is a military tactic which involves destroying anything that might be useful to the enemy while advancing through or withdrawing from an area. Apparently a translation of Chinese 焦土 (Jiao Tu), the term refers to the practice of burning crops to deny the enemy food sources, although it is by no means limited to food stocks, and can include shelter, transportation, communications and industrial resources...

Roiphe, New York Magazine:

There is something that happens when you burn your entire life down. The feeling is raw, close to the bone, jangly, nervous, productive.

(And seriously, I know that these are sourced wrongly. I'm out of practice since grad school ended. Bite me. I will, however, apologize for the randomness of this post.)

Along with the sickness and the race anxiety, and the other anxieties, I've been thinking a lot about tearing down, specifically related to the Ex Fiance. I'm not sure why he's cropping up now - perhaps because April is the time that I finally left for good, for the last time. Or maybe it's because the half-marathon is near our old neighborhood, and I half expect to see his face (or other faces that I left behind) along the race route.

Mainly, though, it's about that wonderful, ugly tendency/propensity of mine to destroy. There's something ultimately thrilling and terrible about watching yourself tear down your life - it's so extreme - yet, all of the times that I've done this, I can recall a detached numbness, followed by intense joy. How else can you describe the feeling of issuing a gigantic FUCK OFF to all of your carefully laid plans?

I don't know why I let the bullshit get to me, when really, all I should be leery of is the halfway.

Little, Very Little

• I'm still sick. But as of today, I'm, um, expectorating, which I take as a positive sign that my body is making efforts to expel the illness from my lungs.
• I still have a scratchy throat. Drinking cold water from our cooler helps...but also creates a lot of sloshing around in my stomach, and...added to the slight pervasive feeling of nausea that I've had over these past few days, it's not good.
• Uninterupted sleep has been impossible this week. Even if I take Tylenol PM (or a glass of red wine), I'm still waking up in the middle of the night.
• Regardless, I am running this race on Sunday.
• The sickness and the race are extremely trivial when you consider this morning's event: attending the funeral of a work colleague's husband. I met her sons, one of whom grasped my hand and seemed not to be able to let go. This made me want to weep uncontrollably, which I delayed until I reached the privacy of my office.
• My work environment became marginally less creepy today as we now have a security guard posted in our building, which came about after an "actively psychotic" woman entered yesterday and threatened several staff members.
• Did I mention that I am running this race on Sunday?

Sick

I woke up yesterday morning with a sore, scratchy throat. I'm coughing frequently, and my ribs hurt. I'm not sure if this is an actual illness or allergies kicking in.

Nonetheless, I've been taking Tylenol PM and going to bed super early (8 pm last night. For reals. ) in the hopes that whatever is going on will be defeated by large amounts of sleep. I'm supposed to be taper-training and over-hydrating this week...all I can concentrate on is getting out of bed and getting to work.

More Running Advice

Suggestion To Self: In the future, schedule long training runs on Saturday, rather than Sunday, as Saturday night tends to be a difficult time to practice common sense.

Case In Point: EB's bachelorette party on Saturday night in which massive amounts of Mexican food, tequila and [shudder] Jager-bombs are consumed, followed by 11.5 miles on Sunday morning at 8:00 am. (Who was I to say no? I was surrounded by a pack of 26 year olds and felt duty bound to represent the over-30 age group.)

Let's put it this way - you did not want to be anywhere near me during that run.

The only comfort I can glean from this experience is that next weekend's race should be easier without yesterday's obstacles.

Weight

When I stepped on the scale yesterday after my training session with C., I was pleasantly surprised to note that I have lost some weight. I'm not quite sure how this occurred, since I continue to be The Girl Who Ate Manhattan, and Parts Of Brooklyn, Too.

And this morning, I remembered why I never weigh myself, as lower numbers on the scale apparently give me license to indulge in McDonald's fries (large) and a Starbuck's Soy Mocha (venti).

Later today, I'm leaving the office early (comp time!) and going on a 6 mile run in this beautiful weather to atone for my sins. Perhaps I should do this while covered in tinfoil/saran wrap.

Gotta Have...

"To choose what is difficult all one's days, as if it were easy, that is faith."
WH Auden

I'm struggling with my faith this week. (No, not religious. Geez. In general. Faith in general. Generic faith, if you will. )

Small leaps of faith allow me to get out of bed in the morning and leave my apartment and be present throughout my day.

I'm not sure what to say about the larger jumps. I'm looking for signs that things are going to work themselves out. This annoys me, because things and stuff and whatnot always DO work themselves out for the best, in their own time, and this is rarely evident while all the things and stuff and whatnot are going on.

Maybe I need to make 3 lists, each titled with "things", "stuff", and "whatnot" so I can realize how insignificant they are. (They will not be important, at some given point in time. This I know.)

Or I could write some haiku. Or be unrepentantly silly. (Or understand that those two things are not mutually exclusive.)

Or do anything else that reinforces that I can just be.

I Am A Hobbit

My appetite / eating is out of control lately. Out of control.

I find myself eating second and third breakfasts, and then multiple lunches and dinners. Example: on Friday evening, I took down a pita filled with roast chicken / cheese / hot sauce. An hour later, I had 4 empanadas and a large salad. Yet another hour later, I finished an entire pint of ice cream. And then I got out of bed around 11:00 pm to have a snack (graham crackers with peanut butter & soymilk). The rampage continued for most of the weekend. (The highlight might have been the cheeseburger with avocado and bacon, accompanied by a baked potato the size of my head and loads of Easter candy, consumed with MS on Saturday night.)

J. assures me that he was eating 4 or 5 pints of ice cream per week at the height of his marathon training. I guess that is something to keep in mind as I troll the aisles of the grocery store, looking for my next fix - that it's all about the running.

Addendum: I'm definitely thinking about the training as I sit here and chug a 32 oz. Gatorade (56 grams of carbs, yo!) because it's scientifically formulated. There's even a diagram with chemical compounds and a human body, so you know it's true.

Operationalizing My Environment

I was feeling a little...wild...when I arrived at work this morning, and realized that I needed to make some adjustments if I was going to have a 'successful' day (and when I say successful, I mean, a day spent actually doing what I'm supposed to be doing, rather than trolling my thoughts).

So I comprised a list of the stuff that I need to do...

And made another list of the stuff that is bothering me...

I had another cup of coffee...

I stretched, took a deep breath, and made myself smile at my reflection in my office mirror...

'Borrowed' an extra lamp from our supply room, and turned off my overhead fluorescent light...

Got out of my personal email, and logged in to Pandora...

And somehow felt less complicated than before.

TURN IT OFF

While filling out chart notes for a client, I stated that she had purchased a 'sound machine' to help with relaxation exercises.

And this led to thinking about Miami Sound Machine (of all things) and now 'The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You' is stuck on a loop in my head.

Oh dear lord I wish I was kidding about this.

Water. Everywhere.

I got caught out in the rain this morning.

I had to go to the UWS to pick up my tax return (a futile venture, because I don't have enough money in my checking account to pay for preparation of said tax return, which means I'll be going up there tomorrow morning again) then to the hospital emergency department to check for any reports from the overnight shift and finally to my office.

It was not a good morning to be outside. I arrived at work soaking wet, and had to wear sweatpants for most of the morning while my work pants dried by the heater (classy!).

The positive thinking might not cut it today. I believe I'm going to require some Ben & Jerry's.

Bright, Bright Sunshiny Day

Yesterday evening, I medicated my grumpiness with sushi, white wine, tasti-delite (thanks for the suggestion, Caitlin) and the company of a good friend.

And later on in the night, when we arrived home, with rum over ice, poured into a coffee cup. (I'm not sure why I used a coffee cup. But there's something delightfully trashy about it.)

Today, a new tactic. Positive thinking: I ran six miles this morning. It's sunny. The bakery across the street still had raisin bran muffins when I arrived at 11:00 am (they're usually sold out). My new shampoo smells great. At last count, 8 people will be traveling to watch me race on the 29th even though it is far away and absurdly early. I live in New York City. I'm getting a tax refund. The weekend will be here soon.

I'm just going to continue like this all day and see where it leads me. I'll probably manage to annoy myself and others, but I'm committed.

Grumpy Dwarf

I'm not feeling it today. At all.

I set out this morning to complete a 6 mile run. Easy, right? Well, for some reason, I decided I would do a lap around the perimeter of Central Park instead of my usual Hudson River route. And I was all psyched and ready...

...until I got out there and my oatmeal was sitting like a lump in my stomach, and pedestrians were in my way, and it was cold, and blustery, and I narrowly avoided stepping in a huge pile of dogshit, and my knees were bitching, and I was tired 2 blocks in.

So I turned around at 89th Street and ran home.

I think I just really need it to be Spring. And when I say Spring, I mean - I need the weather to be better. I need to be able to sit outside. I need to get a slight tan. I need to wear my new sandals.

I need a lot of things that aren't going to happen today.

All Work, No Play

Taking a Mental Health Day (as I did on Friday) is good in theory, but not so good in practice when you return to a gazillion urgent phone messages and a mountain of paperwork, including a new grant application due within one month.

Running should be fairly intense this week as April 29th is approaching sooner than I would like it to (note to self: staying up all night on Saturday does not make for good training conditions on Sunday).

Mentally, I just need to be okay with where I am, and trust that I don't need to take any drastic action to get where I need to be. And to know that I am beautiful and loved. (Cryptic? Maybe. But not to me. )

But really, the biggest task in front of me this week is to exist on the $.74 in my checking account and the loose change at the bottom of my wallet until Friday payday.

My Body Is A Wonderland

5 years ago, when I left The Nightmare Fiance (also known in some circles as Dodged A Bullet With That One) I suddenly had a lot of time on my hands, and sitting around thinking about The Cancelled Wedding wasn't really doing it for me. So I embarked upon a fitness/diet plan which I quickly became obsessed with. After a few weeks of getting up at the crack of dawn to go to the gym, and carefully monitoring my eating habits, I started to feel a difference. I wasn't weighing myself, but I had more energy, and I was fitting into clothing I hadn't worn in a long time.

At week 7, everyone noticed. People I barely knew were stopping to ask me how much weight I had lost. Friends said that I looked 'skinny'. Most memorably, I met up with Ex-Fiance to return the engagment ring and was gratified to see his surprise at how I had changed. (Never, never underestimate the power of walking away from someone for the last time and feeling like you have the upper hand.)

This week, I'm having a similar experience (not with an Ex, since there are none around to spite at the moment) wherein lots of people are suddenly seeming to notice the changes in my body. But here's what's different: my attitude. Because lately, I've just been running and weight training, with no goal other than finishing this race on the 29th. I'm finally appreciating the solidness of my legs for their strength. I'm allowing myself to eat a lot because I know that I need the fuel. For the first time in a long time, I feel comfortable in my body.

So watch out, 13.1 miles. I'm just about ready, and I'm coming for you. Soon.

Weekend

Friday: J. and I went here to see them. Amazing. At one point, I leaned back into J. and we were sort of swaying along to the music and the lights and I felt completely happy and calm, and slightly giddy at the same time.

Saturday - Day: Subway ride of shame from the LES (why, yes, I always go out for coffee and bagels in the morning dressed in sparkly sandals and massive bedhead) followed by 5 mile run along the Hudson followed by my dad picking up me and 10 pounds of laundry for a trip out to The Jerz.

Saturday - Night: Preparation for The Peanut's birthday party.

Sunday - Morning: I skip church (and the possibility of an awkward set-up) to run 8 miles. Yup, 8 miles. In about 90 minutes. I then rush over to The Peanut's birthday party (princess theme, of course) for a blur of small children, relatives, confetti, and cake. And the sweetest 3 year old in the world. The Peanut is my BFF.

Sunday - Night: Unofficial birthday party for JP at The Gaf, including multiple games of Big Buck Hunter, leading into...

Monday - Morning:...a slight case of the Guinness flu, which I am attempting to medicate with a cranberry muffin and a gallon of water.

Running Advice

Don't wear a thong while you're running long distances.

Just take my word on this one.

Decisions, Decisions

My office is fucking freezing right now.

Every weekend, they turn the heat off. It takes forever to warm up again on Monday mornings. I'm guessing that the full heat will kick in tomorrow, just in time for the predicted 74 degree weather.

As for today, I *do* have a space heater. The problem with using the space heater is that it tends to blow a fuse if someone uses the microwave while it's on, and there is no-one to fix a blown fuse since our regular maintenance guy is on vacation, and his boss is also on vacation - a fact that I only discovered last Friday when we called to report that part of our ceiling had fallen down (for reals) and they tried to page both our maintenance guy and then his boss, only to figure out after 20 minutes of non-responsiveness that they were out of the office, and then tried to tell me that it couldn't be fixed until April 2nd (when they get back), and only hired and sent over an outside contractor to repair the ceiling after I threatened to call my union.

Point being, I think I can only use the 'I'm going to complain to my union' card once. And also, if I actually called my union, they'd probably be like, 'And you are...?'

So now I need to decide if I can risk a blown fuse (and thus, no computer access) or if I am doomed to shiver in my office for another 4 hours. Hm.

F Yeah, I'm A Runner

This morning, I woke up bright and early (read: 10:00 am), created a new running mix on my iPod (read: heavy on music of the loud and angry variety), clipped my pedometer to my shirt (read: I am a huge dork), and headed down to Hudson River Park (read: not so much a park but a path along the West Side Highway) for a training run.

I ran (read: jogged) for 80 minutes. 80 minutes. I could not tell you how I did this, or what I was thinking about.

At the end of this insanity, my pedometer told me that I had only completed 3 miles. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Luckily, Orangeman Mike had posted about this training tool on his blog. When I got home, I typed in my route, hit 'calculate' and hoped for the best.

I ran 7.49 miles today. I am psyched. I am not so in love with my pedometer.

PS: Saw this movie last night with J. Lots of silliness - I highly recommend.

Dodgeball Is Random

All season I've kinda...bitched...about dodgeball. It's on the UES, so it requires a lot of subway travel and a cross-town bus during rush hour, which is annoying. And there are these teams that are really intense and throwing the ball really hard and I'm afraid of getting hit in the face and then there's the slight social awkwardness of being on a team with people that you don't know at all and trying to make small talk each week.

The Lawyer is able to shrug all of this off, because she just likes throwing the ball at people. Hard.

Last night, something strange happened. I had fun. Here's why:

- During the first round of games, I caught a ball that was thrown at me, which means that I eliminated the thrower from the other team AND brought back in a previously eliminated teammate. In other words, I was actually able to contribute to a victory.

- Our games against the feared Alpha-male team (The Headhunters, and they all have nicknames on the back of their shirts like 'The Wolf' and 'The Hitman', for God's sake) were over relatively quickly with no serious injuries.

- Bon Jovi comes on the bar jukebox. I fist pump. The Lawyer points at me and says 'Jersey in the House'.

- N. and I procured a free pitcher of beer from a woman who claimed to work for Budweiser. We had to pose for several pictures which will probably turn up somewhere on the internet at some point, but hey, free beer.

- During the free pitcher/picture taking, The Lawyer got stuck going to a diner for about 45 minutes with one of our more annoying team members, which is pretty funny.

- Later on in the night, I got caught up in some heavy geek foreplay when one of my other team members was showing me his new Blackberry. For about half an hour. And he was visibly nervous when I started playing with the buttons. I love geeks.

- Around 11:30, I rediscovered my love for Honey Mustard and Onion Pretzel Bites. My cab driver probably wasn't psyched about that one.

Today, dilemma. Do I sign up for another season? Or was last night an anomaly brought on by rain, spring weather, and too much Budweiser?

Indulged

Last night, I met up with J. to watch the Syracuse/Clemson NIT quarter-final game.

I think we all know how it turned out. (Or maybe we don't, since it was the NIT, and who watches NIT games, other than Syracuse alumni and the group of drunk Englishmen at the bar who befriended us and became temporary college basketball fans? In case you fall outside of those categories, the good guys lost.)

Syracuse was behind for almost the entire game, but managed to play a little more aggressively and go on a bit of a scoring run late in the 2nd half. Coincidentally, this occurred while I was listening to a story that J. was telling instead of watching the television.

Because I am weird, I became convinced that in order for Syracuse to win, I needed to not watch the rest of the game. And so I deliberately turned away and ordered J. to continue telling stories, preferrably on the same subject matter. This lasted for about 3 minutes, until I demanded to know what was happening in the game.

J. then spent the next 20 minutes or so narrating the game for me, while I alternately squeezed his hand and leaned my head against his chest. Not only did he describe the game, he noted baskets made by my favorite players (that 'white punk kid' and the 'tattooed dunker-guy') and actively rooted for Syracuse.

When it was over, and I had stopped swearing, he bought me a drink and deflected the unsympathetic questions of the aforementioned Englishmen. It's not often that you connect with someone who not only defers to your oddities, but actually participates in them.

I think he's a keeper. For now.

Extra Credit

ridiculouschick, a 34 yo. social worker, passes her Social Work Licensing Exam. The appropriate response is:

a) immediately call friends and family to inform them of the good news and to thank them for dealing with/supporting her insanity over the past week

b) run a 5K 'race' against herself on the treadmill while watching the UNLV/Wisconsin game (and set a personal best time while doing so)

c) make arrangements with The Librarian to go out for dinner and drinks

d) all of the above

Things That Make Me Cry, Part II

I returned to my office this afternoon to find a beautiful bunch of roses, sent by my brother, my SIL, and The Peanut, wishing me well on this little exam I'm taking on Sunday.

(Also, worth noting that The Peanut has begun to state that her career goal is to be a 'Princess Social Worker'. This is probably because my family has been making an effort to emphasize that Princesses (her current obsession) have jobs other than looking pretty and getting married. )

Still Studying

ridiculouschick, a 34 yo. caucasian female, has a preoccupation with cake and other
baked goods. the social worker's BEST intervention would be to:

a) explore her feelings around dessert and her history of eating,
bingeing, and body image

b) suggest that the desserts represent a sublimation of unacceptable
urges and desires

c) refer the client to a physician and/or neurologist

d) bake a cake for the client

I Can See The Future

Just down the street from my new office, there is a pizza place that has these little potato/broccoli croquets that are only $.75 each. We've been here since Monday, and I've had at least one each day.

I'm trying to convince myself that they are healthy (broccoli) but...no.

I can see my future, and it includes continued potato-y goodness...and possible weight gain.

Studying

Yeah, so I have my Social Work licensing exam on Sunday. It kinda snuck up on me. And when I say: kinda, I mean: I just started studying this week.

All of this cramming is causing me to think about everything in the format of the exam. For example:

1. ridiculouschick, a 34 yo. Social Worker, provides counseling to clients every day, but has not had individual clinical supervision since November 2006. This situation would BEST be described as:

a) opposite of the directives of the NASW Code of Ethics
b) really scary for ridiculouschick's clients
c) totally fucked up
d) all of the above

Training

The half-marathon training is...going.

I've reached a point where the 4 mile runs are supposed to be the easy ones. Sometimes they are. I surprised myself this weekend by running 5.7 miles continuously, after a week of being sick and not training at all. And this was along Hudson River Park, contending with helicopter landings and tourists and Sunday lollygagging and strong winds.

I'm trying to access the person that was a competitive athlete from ages 7-17 (swimming) but she's buried under years of inactivity and cigarette smoking. Back then, I could train for hours, pushing myself harder and harder. When I raced, something would always...click...and I'd be focused and strong and driving toward the finish line.

Now, I get distracted by tiredness, the slow upward ticking of the distance meter on the treadmill, and the occasional shiny object.

On April 29th, I'm hoping some kind of dormant muscle memory kicks in. Or maybe just that it will be one of those days when the running seems easy, and 13.1 miles pass before I even know it.

Haiku For My New Office Space

unplanned office move
'that's a waterbug - not roach!'
well, that's comforting

the head of nursing
welcomes us to the building
oh yes, there are mice

old x-ray machine
moldering down the hallway
hello, third eyeball!

listing positives
miss mary fucking sunshine
oh god just shut up

THANK YOU

I'd just like to shout a big huge thank you to the fuckwits at the NCAA tournament selection committee for excluding Syracuse from this year's college basketball tournament.

And let's not leave out the folks at CBS (Greg Gumble, I'm looking in your direction) who kept expressing their shock in regards to this omission. Way to rub it in, guys.

As The Reporter so eloquently put it: "It's like they've cancelled Christmas.'

Misery

You all have permission to shoot me right in the head if I ever refer to a conversation as 'dialoguing' with someone, or if I take to wearing clothing appliqued with kittens or holiday themes.

That is all.

Hmmm

Too much analysis leads to paralysis.

I'm kinda stuck here, people. I know there are choices in front of me, but I'm having trouble taking them.

So I'm gonna sit here. Eat some ice cream. Think. Nap. Read blogs. Dream.

'I'm not the girl you once put your faith in, just someone who looks like me.'

Bad to Worse

This morning, on my walk back from my school to my job, I had to abruptly sit down on someone's (beautiful brownstone) front steps because I almost passed out.

Stress? Illness? General tiredness?

I'm not sure, but I think it's time for me to stop self-diagnosing and seek medical advice.

Bad Day

Yesterday morning, I ignored the important rule of NYC transit, and took a seat on the subway where no-one else was sitting, only to discover that someone (or something) in the immediate area reeked of urine.

I went to Dunkin' Donuts, where my request for coffee with 'milk, no sugar' was interpreted as 'cream, 10 sugars', rendering the coffee almost undrinkable.

Arriving at work, I was confronted with a series of crises.

My grant documentation was returned, and I am missing a 20-page questionnaire. This puts the grant renewal in jeopardy, which would make me responsible for killing off the funding for the school project.

The department administrator shared the news that we are moving offices again within the next two weeks to a 'partially rennovated' warehouse space within the next two weeks.

My current office mate announced that she is leaving for another job. She is the only person there that I have really connected with.

I had not had time to pack my lunch, so I subsisted on an apple, peanut butter, cottage cheese and a protein bar all day, and then almost fainted during my 4 mile 'easy' training run last night.

Given the above, can anyone blame me for not wanting to get out of bed this morning?

(Just About) Halfway to the Half*

I ran 6 miles today. I RAN 6 MILES TODAY!

It didn't look at all good. When I'm running, my face turns bright red, and I sweat a lot. And I'm pretty sure that I was making strange breathing noises and, at times, (not so) silently mouthing lyrics from whatever was playing on my iPod. Also, I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich an hour before running, and it made me a little...burpy.

But damn, it felt good. I'm still feeling good, good enough to maybe go to yoga tonight.

Alternately, The Lawyer's advice: 'Maybe you just need to get a grip on yourself and chill the fuck out.'

*Post title courtesy of MS, who helpfully reminded me that I'm halfway to my goal.

Blah, Blah, Blah

I don't seem to have coherent enough thoughts to comprise a solid post, so...

• Space continues to be an issue here at Dream Job. I lost my office 2 weeks ago, and had to move in with another Social Worker, which is kinda fun, but the physical office is kinda shitty. Actually, it's literally shitty at times, since it is connected to a bathroom which is frequently used by the nursing staff.
• Oh, and did I mention that I can turn from working at my desk and wash my hands in the 1960's era sink located directly to my right? I don't even have to stand up to do this. Score!
• Also, at any given point in the day, there are people in engineering uniforms measuring the hallway outside my new office and talking loudly on their wireless phones.
• Boys are kinda dumb. I (sorta) directly asked MySpace Guy to meet on purpose for a drink next time, a request which he chose to...ignore. Whatevs. Next!
• Speaking of Next!, DJ's friend and I had a 12 hour date on Monday night. I live in fear of The Jinx, so I'll just leave it at that. He might need an alias here, and his initials are already taken by someone mentioned on this blog. Hm. Very uncreatively, I shall name him LawStudent.
• I have dodgeball tonight, and my only stated goal is to 'not look like an idiot.' I think I'm kinda setting the bar a little high with that one.
• At MS's suggestion, I plugged my cable internet into my television. I now have 25 glorious channels, including numerous Spanish language stations and QVC. Score!
• I continue to make awesome decisions, like bypassing Taco Bell and the hotdog vendor at lunch today, and proceeding directly to the deli and a turkey sandwich. This was mostly motivated by the fact that someone will (probably) be seeing me naked within the next month.

Like, Totally

OMG!!!! You guys are like, never going to believe this. So, on Friday I went to this birthday party on the Lower East Side with DJ. And I have to say, I looked, like, totally cute. Like, super cute. So, anyway, we're at this small-ish party in this bar in this private room, and I look up from scarfing down this piece of amazing red velvet cake, and like, OMG!!!! it's MySpace Guy. Or, at least, I think it's MySpace Guy and we're at the same party!!!! Like, what the odds, right? I've had like, a super-big crush on this guy for, like, ever, ok? But I'm not sure it's him. I mean, I think it's him, but I really can't be sure because it's not like I spend time studying his pics or anything, right!?!?!? So, I'm not sure if I should go up to him because, like, what if it's not him, and that would totally suck and I'd be, like, totally embarrassed, and probably have to leave or something, or just like, hide in a corner for the rest of the night.. Plus, I was talking to this friend of DJ's who's also, like, super cute, and we've actually had a real conversation before, not just, like with MySpace Guy where he's my 'friend' and all, and, I mean, sure we message back and forth about Edward 40-hands and like, slutty Halloween costumes, and Cabbage Patch Kids, but, like, how much do I really, like, know him? I mean, I think he's my soulmate and all, but only after I get to know him a little more. So then I keep talking to DJ's friend, and MySpace Guy must have left because I didn't see him, and then it was tiime to go get hotdogs to go with the red velvet cake, but then you are never going to guess what happened?!?!?!?!? Like, I can't even believe it. MySpace Guy sent me a message asking if I was at that party. So, it was, like, so him. Out of, like the gazillion people in NYC!!!! So now I think we're like totally meant to be bf/gf. I really think we're perfect for each other. You can tell a lot from a cute boy's MySpace profile. OMG!!!!! I, like, totally need to change my pic to something waaaaaay cuter.

(This message was brought to you by the age 15.)

Oh And

My friend Kingswing sent this picture to me yesterday.

Was I a man in 1993? Apparently, the answer is yes.

[Correction: Kingswing said this was in the 1996-97 timeframe. But, luckily, still look mannish. ]

Little Pieces

- I have been sick for most of my 4-day weekend. Perhaps this is karmic retribution for calling out 'sick' last Thursday. Or just a message that I need to slow it down a bit.

- I just returned from the grocery store where I narrowly avoided purchasing more cake mix and frosting. Narrowly.

- After a few scant weeks of actual winter weather, I am longing for beach outings, symphony in Central Park, and Bryant Park movies. Or just to sit outside in the sun with a drink in my hand.

- It is perhaps funny, or sad, or both, that I was more achy after my first game of dodgeball last week than I am after working out with my trainer.

- I did some healing work with LK yesterday, which proved to me that being open is not quite the threat that I've always perceived it to be. I've spent a lot of energy trying to protect myself...and it all seems very silly right now.

- A conversation about bedbugs reminded me that it is a huge accomplishment that I've remained relatively clutter-free over the past year in my new apartment. I guess it took losing everything (twice) for me to discern what is necessary.

- Which, lately, is cake and Netflix.

Close

Saying that I am happy right now seems like a stretch...but I have my first two Netflix movies, 8 more episodes of Brothers & Sisters on abc.com, the most recent Us Weekly, and a 4 day weekend. I also managed to run 4 miles last night and finish off most of a 13 x 9 cake, so I guess that's something.

Be Mine, All Mine

Some might say that it's a little sad to bake yourself a cake on Valentine's Day.

I say: I get to lick the bowl and eat spoonfuls of frosting without having to share.

Relativity, Theoretically

So, as I stood on a chair in front of my bathroom mirror this morning, scrutinizing my thighs and wondering if all this running is actually making them thicker...

...I thought, yep, this is pretty crazy behavior...

...but at least I'm not strapping on a diaper and driving 900 miles because of "more than a working relationship but less than a romantic one".


(And I got that link by typing 'astronaut diaper' in Google. Heh.)

Ridiculouschick 101

Ok, I’m stumped.

I’ve been asked to serve as a panelist for a Teen Dating Violence / Teen Sexual Assault conference taking place next week (which is mystifying enough on its own) and I need to prepare a short biography.

Ugh. I hate writing about myself. (I’m also a nervous public speaker, but I’m just going to have to put that aside for the moment. One episode of paranoia at a time, please.)

Maybe I can just send my list of General Interests…or something about how I love long walks on the beach, unicorns, and Precious Moments figurines…my Virgoan astrological profile…a link to this blog?

Because nothing real or professional (or real professional) is coming to mind at the moment.

Or maybe, on the day of, I could just smile, give my name, and ask “How you like me so far?”

General Interests

Here's what I'm into...lately: spite, college basketball, yelling, yelling related to college basketball, ice cream, yoga, gin & tonic, sushi, tossing my hair, rolling my eyes, making the world safe, afternoon naps, ridiculousness, the drive-by eggings that are plaguing LA, confounding all those around me, coffee so strong my spoon stands up in it, subterfuge, brilliance, beautiful misapplications of the english language, random social experiments, endless games of 'would you be my friend if', dismantling patriarchy, composing a list of words i love, composing a list of words i hate, running.

Cross Training

Today is the official start of my 12 week training for this little race that I’ve been so preoccupied with since the start of the new year. As part of the program I am following, I need to cross train 2 days per week, which “could be swimming, cycling, walking, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, etc.”

Given the reality of my life, I am considering the following alternatives:

Fighting to squeeze into a packed subway car during rush hour.

Worrying about overdue bills.

Observing the extended internal battle between my pragmatism and romanticism.

Lugging work presentation materials all over the Greater New York area.

Devising new and inventive ways to flirt with someone via MySpace.

Competitive grocery shopping an hour before the start of the Superbowl.

Eye-rolling, hair tossing, and fist shaking.

Blog posting.