eating insomnia, drinking daylight

2009

2009-01-04T22:36:00.001-06:00

I'm considering resuscitating the blog. Just considering. We'll see.

oh no!

2007-09-20T09:27:00.000-05:00

I already failed! I missed yesterday...

Here's the only news so far today: I woke up at my "regular" time - 7:39 am. Every day lately - 7:39 am. All alarms had turned themselves off. So did I spring out of bed and rush to get ready for work. Oh, no. That would make too much sense. My kitty came and laid on my chest and I went promptly back to sleep until my friend Mark called sometime after 8. I have to break the 7:39 pattern. I have no idea how...

Happy Thursday. The week's almost over.

blogging, awards & spilling

2007-09-18T10:40:00.001-05:00

Here's my vow for the week: at least one post a day.

I just found out that 4 websites I wrote at my last agency won Web Awards. This is very, very cool. Kind of annoying that no one actually told me, but extremely justifying in light of the many disparaging comments made about my work by my head boss.

Here are the sites, should you be interested: Jack Daniel's, Finlandia Vodka, Tucker Hill, and Mission Menus.

In other news, in my infinite klutziness, I spilled a bottle of water on my computer yesterday and now my keyboard is acting less than nice. I'm doing a lot of loud hitting on my Enter key. :)

quote of the day

2007-09-13T17:19:00.001-05:00

"It's just a day. A day people remember to be mean." -Jude

a little update from an absent blogger

2007-07-22T23:17:00.001-05:00

Anyone still out there? If so...

Here's the latest from when I last abandoned the blog because I'm not tired even though it's bedtime:

- My thyroid is actually more broken than before. This pisses me off.

- An article on Wired.com somehow convinced me to get a Twitter account. Are you supremely, dreadfully bored with absolutely nothing to occupy your time with other than make paper clip origami? Here you go: twitter.com/1000symphonies

- I had Sbux three times today. This is hardly noteworthy other than that's probably why I'm not remotely tired.

- Matt himself at Matt's Rancho Martinez personally cooked my dinner for me last night. If you don't live in Dallas, this likely means nothing to you, but it was pretty effing cool. One of the waiters even came by our table to tell me he didn't remember the last time he'd seen Matt cook.

- And, most importantly, I got a new job. This is worthy of major celebration.
A few notes on my new office:
Dogs come to work. They even come to meetings. It's cool.
There are plasma TVs on the backs of the stall doors (and, I'm told, above the urinals) in the guest bathrooms playing Office Space.
They have massage chairs (though I don't remember where they are. The office is many times larger and more confusing than my previous one).
They have a Ping-Pong table (and I know where it is).
And air hockey.
And a Zen room.
And a Wii. This matters to me not at all, but if I were a gamer, I'd be all over this.
And free *fountain* diet Coke (this means very much to me, the addict that I am).

Plus, the people rock.

That's about it from my corner of the world. Time for some Ambien! Just hours away from more Sbux...

there's something wrong with me! :D

2007-06-13T10:14:00.000-05:00

So as many of you know, I have my fair share of health problems. Now I have a new one - and I have never been so happy to have something wrong with me.

I've been working out super consistently - even with a trainer - for several months now. Yet instead of losing weight and looking fabulous (which was obviously the plan), I started gaining weight. Like a pound a second. Or at least it seemed that way.

Many of my friends chalked it up to age and slowing metabolism, but I wasn't buying it. Okay, I was a little bit buying it, but I didn't want it to be true. So I went to my dr. and he said it was probably just a side effect of a medication I take. I didn't buy that, either, and asked him to test my thyroid. He thought it would turn out to be fine, but... (happy news on the way)... it wasn't! I have hypothyroidism, which means my thyroid isn't functioning fast enough, which means my metabolism isn't either.

So not only hooray, there's an actual problem, but hooray, there's an actual solution. Now I'm taking synthetic thyroid stuff that's supposed to speed things up. The only real drawback? I get to take it every day for the rest of my life.

Good times!

yum

2007-05-18T14:31:00.001-05:00

i think one of the best smells in the world is waffle cones being made.

that's all.

life, what?

2007-05-16T18:07:00.000-05:00

the only thing i wanted to do today, the one thing, is go to yoga. instead, i'm going to be sitting at work.

just a little note:

2007-05-15T10:41:00.000-05:00

"Anyways" is not a word.

If you go look it up on Dictionary.com to prove me wrong, you will find it listed there as the "non-standard" form of "anyway." "Non-standard" meaning, "'Anyways' is not a word, but we were forced to put it in here because so many people misuse it over and over and over again, day after day after day."

Anyway, that's all for now.

exploding deliciousness.

2007-05-09T16:50:00.000-05:00

I had Pei Wei for lunch today - gluten free sweet and sour chicken, add red bell, brown rice. I love Pei Wei b/c a) it's good, and b) they have a GF menu. I almost never eat all of my food because the servings are pretty big, but I also almost never take the leftovers with me. If I do, they sit in my refrigerator for a few days, then get tossed out.

Here's why:

Re-heating Pei Wei freaks me out.

When you put Pei Wei chicken in the microwave, it explodes. Like seriously explodes, with a huge popping I'm exploding kind of noise. And I don't want to eat exploded chicken.

My fortune today said "All of your heart's desires will come true." So I kind of wonder: If I had taken the leftovers, and I had heated them up, and my heart's desire had been that the chicken not explode (which would have clearly been my heart's desire), would I now be eating a little unexploded chicken instead of a plastic spoonful of organic peanut butter?

Desperate?

2007-05-08T12:27:00.000-05:00

Why is Mrs. McCluskey from Desperate Housewives doing a V8 commercial? And not even one that plays off her character or gives her good lines or anything? This is my question for today.

what's that?

2007-05-02T17:33:00.000-05:00

I've started to realize that people don't really listen. You could say, "Yeah, I just found out I have 8 days to live," and you'd get the response, "Oh, really? Hey, guess what I had for dinner last night!"

Really. Start paying attention and you'll see.

Ha ha. No pun intended...

parking rules

2007-05-01T17:21:00.000-05:00

Last Friday night we went to the Elks' Lodge. That's right, the Elks' Lodge. And here's where we got to park:

Totally beats rock star parking.

ah ha

2007-04-27T14:08:00.000-05:00

NO ONE got kicked off.

Not sure if it's because I was sleep-deprived or not, but that entire Idol Gives Back show made me weepy.

Of course, when I went to order a margarita the other night on a mini-dinner-break from work, I said, "I'll have a margarita on the rocks, no water. No ice! No--" The waiter kindly interrupts me. "No salt?" "Yeah. No salt."

it's a tiny miracle

2007-04-26T16:44:00.000-05:00

Tuesday night when I got home from work around quarter 'til 1, I stayed up and watched Idol instead of going straight to bed as I should have.

Last night, as the hours ticked by and I was still here, I warned everyone against telling me who got kicked off like my dear friend Leslie did last week. Everyone kindly complied.

But then the hours kept ticking by and I found myself pulling into my garage aorund 3:30 in the morning. Since my 3 alarms were going off 3 hours later, I made the mature decision and, sadly, skipped watching the results show. (Then I slept straight through all 3 alarms and didn't quite make it to work in time for the 8:00 meeting.)

The good news? I somehow still don't know who got kicked off. My radio station didn't say it today. It hasn't been on my Google home page, and no one's said a word at work. So as long as I get to leave here at a decent hour tonight (I'll know really soon if that's going to happen), I can go home and watch it just like it's happening in real time. But first, I think a few drinks are in order.

la-la land

2007-04-24T11:59:00.000-05:00

Lately I’ve been missing my life in LA. Not all of it. I’d erase the majority of the last year and a half – but not all of that, either, because even in the midst of some pretty successful self-destruction there were good moments.

I miss my friends there, even the ones who don’t live there anymore. I miss the weather. The way it smells in the morning. Lavenderish. Rainish. I miss being able to lie on the beach, listening to the waves crash, all while seeing the mountains in the distance. Even the day Kym convinced me we’d get super tan if we slathered ourselves in dark beer. (We smelled really delicious by the end of the day.) I miss my boxing gym that isn’t there anymore. Or at least not in the same place.

Most of all, I miss working in television. There’s nothing like it. Even when you work 16+ hour days for days on end, there’s an excitement to it. A camaraderie. And tons of good food. ☺

In fact, there seems to be something about LA in general that breeds camaraderie. A we’re-all-in-this-together kind of thing. An anything-could-happen kind of thing. Great success. Earthquakes. Who knows?

Of course there are plenty of things I don’t miss. The traffic. The smog. Having to buy a refrigerator to go with your apartment. Moving your car from one side of the street to the next every other day.

But even those things are easily erased with daily trips to the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf (vastly superior to Starbucks, and this from a Starbucks addict).

It’s like the opening from Pretty Woman – Everybody’s got a dream.

Here’s mine: I’m back in LA getting mani/pedis and going shopping with Carrie. Having sushi at Sushi Roku with Tania. Meeting the Good Jeff for breakfast. Talking with Anita over a long lunch in Beverly Hills. Going to the Rose Bowl flea market with Anthony. Driving fast around the curvy part of Sunset Blvd. Writing for television. And drinking 16-ounce Iced Blended Vanillas. Every single day.

ruined results

2007-04-19T01:07:00.000-05:00

All night I’ve been dying to leave work so I could go home to watch the American Idol results show. I purposefully have not even gone on my Google homepage tonight for fear of seeing the results before I make it back to my Tivo.

My co-worker just announced to the entire office that Sanjaya has been kicked off.

Argh!

(And double argh that it's 1:07am, I'm still at work, and the end is not in sight.)

paying my dues

2007-04-18T16:53:00.001-05:00

On Monday, I realized that my accountant’s filing of my taxes did not mean I didn’t have to actually write a check and pay them. Yes, I owed money. Mostly because I had quarterly installments last year and I thought they were optional and therefore didn’t pay them. They aren’t. I also somehow failed to connect that owing money and getting it to the IRS involved some kind of effort on my part.

As one of the cops at the post office said, I’m a procrastinator.

I spent most of Monday stressing about the post office experience that faced me. My boss kept saying, “You need to leave the office right now and go mail your taxes.” But I couldn’t leave, because I still had way too much work to do.

Then I got the awesome idea to spend a little more money and Fed Ex them. What’s another 13 bucks, right? I could even do it from work. This made me happy.

Until I finished filling out the shipping form and realized that Fed Ex won’t deliver to post office boxes, and the IRS uses post office boxes. I had no choice but to go to the post office.

First I worked until 8, then I went to dinner at Fireside Pies with some friends, so it was after 10 before I started following my Google map to the 24-hour post office. Perfect timing. The rush should have already gone home for the night.

When I exited the freeway, I saw a line of cars piled up, snaking their way into the parking lot. Then I saw the cops directing the line of cars. Great. Not so perfect timing. I steeled myself for a long wait.

Right as I got to the front of the line of cars, someone pulled out of the front spot and the officer waved me into it. When I got out, he said he saved that spot for all the pretty girls. I laughed and he said I was the only one who didn’t believe him which made me smart and pretty. I guess he had to entertain himself someway, because once I got inside, I realized it wasn’t crowded at all.

There were probably 15 people in line. One of the postal workers asked if anyone was paying with credit or debit card. I said I was. He whisked me out of line, took me to the automated machine, did everything for me – including fill out the certified mail/return receipt stuff. I was in and out in less than 5 minutes.

Perfect timing.

Now if only I could have kept that check that was heading to a post office box…

the need for speed (or lack thereof)

2007-04-16T11:06:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I woke up at 6am to go to Nascar. Yes, 6am. I've even got the red neck to prove my redneck-ness (and half-red arms, half-red face... yes. super sexy.). Here's a good summary of the day. Jen, Jeanann & me 12+ hours from waking up:

More Nascar-ing to come...

it doesn't feel like friday

2007-04-13T12:14:00.001-05:00

I just want 1 good day. I don't think I've had one in 2 weeks. Enough already.

no such thing as sick time

2007-04-12T18:11:00.000-05:00

Work is kind of kicking my ass lately. It's not only been insanely busy, but also insanely fragmented. This past Tuesday I worked on 11 different projects. That's a record.

But today is the best example of how work is beating me down. I came home sick and worked almost as much as I would have worked if I hadn't left - and I still have more to do. The only 2 differences were that I did it in my pajamas and that it was more confusing without face-to-face communication. So I learned a good lesson. Don't get sick.

emtensgi

2007-04-10T13:48:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I sit in meetings and the person running it is talking and I'm nodding my head in understanding but really all I hear is gibberish and all I'm doing is trying to remember my to-do list or trying not to fall asleep.

Celiacs Unite

2007-04-05T12:25:00.000-05:00

Let night I met some of my people – some fellow celiacs.

I went to a gluten free cooking class at Central Market and had a delicious 4 ½ course meal. (I say 4 ½ because I’m not sure bread and marmalade count as a course.) The head chef was a woman whose husband and 2 of her 3 children have celiac, and they have a completely gluten free household even for herself and the child who doesn’t have it.

The food was awesome (except for the meat – I’ve always hated Salisbury steak. It’s disgusting, in my book) but mostly it was just cool to be in a room with so many other people either have celiac or have kids who have it. People who totally understand feeling crappy while doctors try to figure out what’s wrong with you. People who know what it’s like to go into a restaurant and have to ask a million questions that half the time aren’t understood (or you get called rude names in Spanish), and you end up eating a plain chicken breast while those around you eat hot, cheesy, delectable pizza.

I’m blessed to have friends and family who are extremely understanding and accommodating, but I know it gets annoying for them to have to go to restaurants where I can eat when it isn’t what they want. And, for some reason, it’s starting to get more frustrating for me while I would think it would start getting better.

But I left my cooking class kind of inspired. I bought the chef’s GF cookbook. And, when I got home, I made some gluten free blueberry muffins that were really yummy. It’s an actual possibility that I might even start cooking real food for myself… One step at a time.

Thanks to Elbow Room Boy for the muffin mix & the tip on the GF class. And happy almost birthday.

Cursed at Chipotle

2007-04-03T18:50:00.000-05:00

Last Friday, a worker at Chipotle called me a whore in Spanish. Or maybe a bitch.

Here’s what I did to be deserving of such slander: I asked Worker #1 (not the whore guy) if he would change his gloves to make my food because of the whole gluten thing. Worker #1 – who recognized me from my eating there and always having to do the glove thing – happily changed them and started my vegetarian burrito bol. But he forgot that he had to take it all the way down the line in his nice, clean gloves, and thus handed it off to Worker #2.

I panicked a little bit and said that the first guy needed to do it. (Okay, fine, it’s possible I overreacted a bit. It’s what I do.) So the bol went back to Worker #1. But Worker #2 wasn’t very happy with me and I know this because he spat out a word in Spanish that clearly wasn’t nice. I tried to apologize and explain but he wasn’t interested.

When I got back to the office, I asked around to see if anyone knew what it meant. No luck. That afternoon, a bunch of us headed back down to Chipotle for post-work margaritas. (Worker #2 wasn’t there.) I asked this group if anyone knew what it meant. One of my co-workers kind of sucked in his breath and laughed at the same time and told me that Worker #2 had called me a whore. Or maybe a bitch. But more likely a whore. A whore just for protecting my health.

I don’t think this is very nice.

So I’ve been weighing my options.

Option 1: Do nothing.
Option 2: Complain to the manager.
Option 3: Learn lots of bad words in other languages to call him when I go back to he can spend the day trying to figure out what they mean.
Option 4: Kill him with kindness.

If I’m a whore and/or a bitch, I’m certainly not kind, so option 4 is out. If I’m a whore and/or a bitch and go to complain to the manager, I’ll likely be at least a bitch to him (hopefully not a whore), and I like the manager so option 2 is out. The backbone of someone who turns tricks is questionable, but a bitch doesn’t let anyone push her around, so forget about option 1.

It’s time to start studying languages. And by “it’s time to start studying languages,” I of course mean, “It’s time to start Googling.” Let the name-calling begin.

Gluten gets a call-out.

2007-04-02T18:03:00.000-05:00

On Six Degrees:

Whitney: Can my assistant get you anything? We have these great chocolate chip cookies brought in fresh everyday.
Reporter Guy: No, thanks. I'm allergic to gluten.
Whitney: Who isn't these days?

Coincidentally...

2007-03-30T13:53:00.000-05:00

Last night was a coincidence-filled night.

Last night I went to a party at Fuse. Right when we got upstairs, I saw a guy across the room I recognized. It took me a second to figure out from where.

On Tuesday, my friend Aaron and I went to happy hour at Kona Grill. The patio was packed and there were no tables. A couple of guys in the corner seemed to be finishing up, so I went over, smiled, and asked if they would mind giving me a heads up when they were about to leave. One of them said, “Go ahead and sit down. We’re just waiting for our check.” So I sat with them and we made slightly awkward small talk and then they left and we got the table.

The guy across the room at the party was one of those two random guys from Kona. The guy standing next to him was the other guy. Turns out they both work in advertising – and one of their old co-workers just started working at my company a couple of weeks ago. Also – Guy #2 and I were pretty much wearing matching shirts.

A few minutes later, an editor we know walked in with his girlfriend.

Then I met a guy who is starting work at my agency on Monday.

Then a friend of mine ran into a friend of her ex-boyfriend.

Then we ran into the roommate of the ex-boyfriend of a girl we work with. (If that makes any sense at all.)

Then I met a guy who interviewed at my agency a few days ago.

Then we went to Trece and had $11 guacamole and $20+ entrees and $10 frozen blueberry mojitos. Which is not a coincidence at all. I just felt like mentioning it because the frozen blueberry mojitos were dangerously delicious.

Grackling

2007-03-28T16:24:00.000-05:00

Last night I had the local news on because there was supposed to be a story on an American Idol fan going to some great lengths to get Sanjaya kicked off (hey, I get my real news online, okay?). And, though I managed to miss the one story I wanted to see (my hat’s off to that fan, btw), I did get to see the story on grackles driving customers away from a local business. Because of the proliferation of their “business.”

Here’s what got me: Underneath each person they interviewed who was frustrated by the grackles was their name and then “Dislikes Grackles.”

Several people in a row.

Mary Smith. Dislikes Grackles.

Bob Jones. Dislikes Grackles.

Sally Thompson. Dislikes Grackles.

Which begs the question: Is there anyone out there who does like grackles? Are there grackle fans living amongst us? People who walk beneath the grackles’ incessant, shockingly loud squawking and like it? And, more importantly, who walk both underneath and over Grackle Business and like it?

This very business is exactly why I leave all of my shoes outside my back door.

I may just watch the local news again tonight, not in the hopes that they’ll have a Sanjaya update (though they’re bound to have that – fingers crossed the story is he was axed), but in the hopes that one of these grackle lovers has come forward in protest of last night’s story.

Sanjaya Malakar. Likes Grackles.

Well...

2007-03-27T15:29:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure I spoke too soon. Perhaps things will turn back around after the presentation. At least then I can begin drinking heavily and maybe I'll become a nice person again because I definitely have not been one today.

:D

Good Bad Bad Good Morning

2007-03-27T11:17:00.000-05:00

Usually you can tell when a day isn’t going to go so great. But yesterday I was fooled. My day started out amazing. I woke up only twenty minutes late – a huge improvement over my normal hour. I was happy with the first thing I put on. (Another abnormality.) I made it to my friend’s house to feed her bunnies that I am bunny-sitting. I got to Starbucks and barely had to wait to get my venti non-fat no-whip 140-degree sugar free Cinnamon Dolce Latte. And I got to work twenty minutes before my every Monday 830 meeting.

Then I realized I’d forgotten my computer at home. I had to wait until after the meeting, then drive home, get the computer, and drive back. A good hour+ wasted.

From there – all downhill.

An overall extremely bad and stressful day at work, the details of which are unimportant.

I had plans after work to go to the gym to work out with my trainer, then rush home, get ready again, and go out for drinks with friends. So I went to the gym because a) I would have had to pay him whether I showed up or not, and b) otherwise I might have started killing people. Then I rushed home and got ready again not to go out for drinks but to come back to work until 1145.

I went home and made the not-so-wise decision to open a bottle of wine, sit on my couch, eat cheese & crackers, and watch What About Brian. But it was the nicest part of my day (well, aside from punching the hell out of the heavy bag at the gym), made even a little nicer by the fact that a friend of mine had three songs in the show.

At 1am, it was time to iron my clothes for today as I have a huge presentation this afternoon. Then I got ready for bed. Then I lay awake most of the night, falling soundly asleep only after my alarm went off. Then I was running late. Then I got stuck in a school zone all the way to the bunnies’ house. Then the line at Starbucks was long and slow. Then I was late to work.

And then everything for my presentation slowly started falling into place and, for the first time in three weeks, I actually think we might pull it off.

So maybe good morning = bad day and bad morning = good day.

Or perhaps it’s all just coincidence. Either way, I’m glad it’s today.

this can't be good.

2007-03-19T11:12:00.000-05:00

it's only 11:12 and i'm already ready for the day to be over.

Found Time

2007-03-12T11:13:00.000-05:00

So this weekend we lost an hour. This makes mornings miserably dark but evenings happily light. Still. A precious hour stolen. Yet somehow I found some time.

This morning, as with all mornings, I overslept. I needed to leave my house by 745 in order to get to Sbux and get to work on time for our weekly Monday morning 830 meeting. Instead, I didn’t get out of bed until 10 after 7. I knew what this meant – I had to skip fixing the hair. Wash and go curly.

I don’t mind my hair curly, even though it’s not my favorite. The problem is it takes a good two hours before it looks decent because I have to let it air dry. I have a little routine for curly-hair days: wash, don’t comb, spray with anti-frizz stuff, spray with curl stuff, leave alone for half an hour, twist into what I like to call my A#1 hair clip, leave up for a good hour. Take down, hair is still wet, let dry. Wait an hour. Then – maybe – it looks decent. Even though I do the exact same thing every time, it manages to look different every time, and I have no way of knowing if that different will be good or bad.

So today I knew it was a wash and go curly day. But I really didn’t want to. I took a chance and dried and straightened. I managed to straighten my hair in less than 5 minutes. It usually takes closer to 8 or 9. I worried about how long it would take to get dressed because I usually change at least 4 times.

I was happy with the first thing I grabbed.

Fed the cat, got my breakfast together, and somehow, miraculously, I left the house at one minute until 8 with my hair done.

As I drove, I prayed for the Sbux line to be short as I knew I should actually be going straight to work now. Sbux line was long. I pulled in anyway because I didn’t want to have to walk to the one near work after the meeting given that the weather is cloudy and humid and rainy. This would turn my hair curly and defeat my speedy hair work.

I kept thinking I should get out of line. I stayed in line and hoped.

Hope paid off. The Sbux line moved uncharacteristically fast.

Traffic cooperated. And, at 820, I pulled into the parking lot. Ten minutes early. Amazing.

Daylight Savings Time might have taken an hour away from me, but I got back a good twenty minutes. It might be a good day.

The Way Coelho Sees It

2007-03-06T17:37:00.000-06:00

Check out what my Starbucks cup had to say today:

“Remember your dreams and fight for them. You must know what you want from life. There is just one thing that makes your dream become impossible: the fear of failure. Never forget your Personal Legend. Never forget your dreams. Your silent heart will guide you. Be silent now. It is the possibility of a dream that makes life interesting. You can choose between being a victim of destiny or an adventurer who is fighting for something important.”
- Paulo Coelho

Maybe it's trying to tell me something...

See, I knew there was a reason to spend 5 bucks on coffee at least once a day!

I saw Santa eating Chick-fil-a

2007-03-02T13:52:00.000-06:00

Today I went to lunch at the very exciting food court in the underground of the Bank of America building. Right as we emerged from a dark tunnel into the bright and sunny food court, I saw him. Santa.

He was sitting at a small table having lunch with a woman (who was definitely not, by the way, Mrs. Claus). He had flowing white hair that merged into a flowing white beard that reached down to the middle of his chest, settling just above his round belly. His long-sleeved shirt was bright red. All as it should be.

I interrupted my friend in the middle of his sentence to say, "Quick. To your left. Santa."

He was speechless. I was speechless. We both forgot all about his story of Thomas Jefferson and two dollar bills. After all, who can talk about things of historical significance when you're in the presence of Santa Claus, St. Nick, Father Christmas himself? In a food court, no less. Santa.

Today may be Texas Independence Day, but March 2nd will go down in my history book as the day I saw Santa eating Chick-fil-a.

Funner is more fun.

2007-03-01T11:32:00.000-06:00

If you know me, you know I love grammar, but I have to say, I really think "funner" should be a word.

Relax.

2007-02-28T14:08:00.000-06:00

As I was listening to the McNews this morning (you know, those tiny snippets of info after they give the weather & traffic reports and before they give the weather & traffic reports), I heard a line that caught my attention. It went something like this:

“Studies have shown that in order to reduce anxiety people should relax.”

Was money spent to reach this extraordinarily insightful realization? The study was sponsored by some Association of Physicans Something Something (she said it too fast for me to catch and I can’t seem to find this pertinent news story online anywhere. Believe me, I looked.).

Five minutes later after a song and some more weather & traffic reporting, she repeated the line but this was the extended McNews so we got a few ways in which we might do said relaxing:

- Eat well
- Sleep well
- Avoid caffeine
- Watch less TV

The first three? Givens, I guess. If you don’t eat, you get antsy and shaky and irritable. If you don’t sleep, you get, well, antsy and shaky and irritable. (And tired.) I see their logic in avoiding caffeine, but if I avoid caffeine, that’s when I get antsy and shaky and irritable. Watch less TV? I don’t know about you, but that’s the one time I truly do relax. A perfect respite of escape.

But that’s not really the point. The point is no one needs a study to prove that in order to reduce anxiety you should relax. That’s a little like saying in order to rest you should sleep. In order to reduce hunger you should eat. But it’s only a little like that. Those “problems” are easy to remedy. Hunger + food = no more hunger. Anxiety + food = relaxed? Not so much. Being told to relax doesn’t mean you can, even if you follow the “directives.”

Marriage on the rocks? Grab yourself a burrito. About to lose your job? Have yourself a good solid 8 hours of sleep. Walking down a dark alley in a bad neighborhood? Don’t be drinking a diet Coke as you walk. Everything will be fine. It’s been studied. By doctors.

brilliantly on target

2007-01-30T14:31:00.000-06:00

Sometime last week I got a call from Target. They weren’t calling to say, We haven’t seen you in a few days. They were calling to tell me I’d forgotten to pay my bill. This is no big surprise. I have a way-too-frequent tendency to forget to pay my bills. I thought it was pretty nice of them to bring it to my attention and allow me to pay by check right then and there over the phone. Win-win.

I get my mail once a week at best. Only when I think I’m close to getting that little note that says my mail has been taken to the Post Office do I get it. I used to love the mail. Who knew what unexpected piece of happiness might come?

Now the mail is just something else to clutter up my house, and I don’t need any help with that. And it always holds those bills I forget to pay. But when I went on my last mail run (after the pay-your-bill call), I saw that I had a letter from Target.

On the outside, on the front, it said, “Sometimes, the best presents are the ones you give yourself.” Sure, I’ll buy that (no pun intended). I love to get presents for myself. I bought myself a new pair of jeans just this past Saturday. I don’t need new jeans – I wouldn’t begin to know how many pairs I own at this point. But, you know what they say, Sometimes the best presents are the ones you give yourself. And by “they,” I of course mean Target.

Anyway. It was the back of the envelope that got me. “You shopped brilliantly over the holidays. Now it’s time for your 10% off shopping day at Target.”

That’s not the end. I opened the envelope and took out the card. “Brilliant job shopping over the holidays, REDcard holder.” (Yes, that’s right, I have a Target credit card.)

Aren’t they really saying, “Good going spending an obscene amount of money in our store over the holidays”? But so much more nicely worded.

The thing is, whenever I get these 10% off shopping days, I buy stuff I would never buy on a normal trip to Target. 10% off is really not that much. But when you have that special card, you feel like everything is free. When my sister lived here, she and I would organize our 10% off trips. Big excursions to Super Target. (You have to go the Super route when you’ve got the special card. So much more to buy at Super Target.)

My 10% card expires March 2. So sometime before then, you can bet I’ll be hitting up Super Target for a major trip. Then I’ll just sit back and wait for the nice lady to call to say I owe them lots of money.

Baby, I'm back.

2006-10-18T13:55:00.000-05:00

I rode in a baby car seat for the second time this this week. The first ride was a good 45 minutes.

I'm pretty sure I've never ridden in a baby car seat. Even when I was a baby.

That's all.

An unexpected error has occurred.

2006-08-01T00:47:00.000-05:00

Anyone else feel like you can never get on MySpace anymore? It's getting annoying.

I can't sleep (obviously or I wouldn't be posting such nonsense). Where is MySpace when I need it? Updating their database... fixing some technical glitches... experiencing a power outage... Tom! Get to it!

2006-07-31T23:00:00.000-05:00

Naked Neighbor story is coming (Sam), it just might be a few days.

Okay, okay, I'm back...

2006-07-26T22:52:00.000-05:00

...assuming anyone's still out there after my extremely long posting hiatus.

I have a good story about my neighbor. But that's the next post. In saving it, I have a reason to come back. Because honestly, I haven't had a lot to say lately. Or maybe I've had a lot and, therefore, said nothing.

Spoiler: Sadness to come. Sorry.

The fact is, I've been kind of emotional the last week.

(Yes, I do hear those of you out there saying, "Just the last week? Seriously.")

When I decided to leave Florida, I knew I wanted to come back to Texas, I just didn't know where in Texas. I was leaning towards Austin because I think deep down, out of all of Texas, I'm probably really an Austin girl. Definitely not a Dallas girl. I prefer flip-flops to heels, jeans to skirts, and don't really need some label stamped across my purse 5,001 times in order to carry it out of the house. I get pedicures at Super Wal-Mart. Okay, I guess that makes me an Odessa girl. :)

But I chose Dallas for one very important reason: My sister lives here.

My sister has long been my best friend. The one person in the entire world I can count on. Before I moved here, we hadn't lived in the same town for almost 20 years. In fact, before I moved here, I hadn't lived anywhere near family in that same amount of time unless you count summers during college.

The last year and a half, I've finally had that. People I know I can rely on when my house is broken into or my car dies or I'm just feeling terrible and don't want to be alone. It's been an extremely bumpy ride since I moved here, but having them here has made it all infinitely better.

Tomorrow, that ends. Because tomorrow, my sister moves to Austin.

My brother-in-law took a job there a couple of months ago and has been living there since, coming back to Dallas on the weekends. It's been excruciating on my sister at home all week with a 5-year-old, a 3-year-old, and a 1-year-old.

I haven't been able to let her know how hard it is on me that she's leaving because she's so upset that she's leaving. So I've been strong and told her it will be okay, etc.

Last night I went to dinner with her and the kids, then over to the house to help her pack some things that the movers won't take. Because we were in get-it-done mode, she didn't cry at all, even when we said goodbye for the night. But I got in my car knowing it was the last time I would leave that house.

Tonight her husband is in town helping her pack. I've avoided calling her all night, even though I know I should be there helping as well. I just can't do it. Finally, a few minutes ago, I called. She was crying when she answered the phone. I asked if I could come help pack (even though I didn't want to). She said I didn't need to. "Unless you want to."

I paused.

"No," I said. "I really don't."

She said she knew I was probably tired. And then, for the first time since I saw the For Sale sign in their yard, I started crying too. I told her I didn't want to come because last night it was like we were just hanging out like we always do, and I left like I always would. But tonight... tonight it would be really leaving and I just didn't want to.

But I would if she needed me to.

Then, of course, we're both crying. Because, face it, not-even-a-little-deep-down, we're both ridiculously sensitive. We can only stay strong when we know the other needs us to.

I know it's probably not my best move, but I don't have it in me to be strong for both of us tonight and, if I go, I'll likely just upset us both more leaving her husband to pack while we clear out the Kleenex.

So I'm going to bed instead, with the knowledge that if something happens tonight, I can call on them for help. And if something happens tomorrow, I'm on my own.

Now aren't you all glad you asked me to post???

Upcoming: Naked Neighbors. It will be funny. I promise.

Emoticon Addendum

2006-05-16T14:37:00.000-05:00

I made it about two minutes before I used a smiley face in an IM.

Screw it.

I have a confession to make.

2006-05-16T14:19:00.000-05:00

I use emoticons.

Frequently.

:)
;)
:(
:D
:P

I am a writer and yet I use emoticons. Embarassing. If I still taught college English and one of my students were to use an emoticon, I would tell them it's just like adverbs: If you need one, you probably haven't expressed your thought in the best way possible.

I know people who don't use them... but still kind of do.

Let's all remember to be on our best behavior while the clients are here! (smiling!)
Say that again and I'll have to take you outside. (wink)

I think that's worse. But still.

I'm making a pact: From now on, I will not use emoticons. I won't write them on Post-Its. I won't use them in emails. I won't click on the plethora of options on Messenger. Not even the yawning face. Or the crying one. Or the goat.

Okay, maybe just the goat. A goat emoticon? Way too awesome to be ignored.

Yeah, I know. I ignore the blog forever and then I come back with emoticons. Get over it. (wink! smiling!)

complaint from a spelling geek

2006-04-10T23:26:00.000-05:00

I just saw a Frosted Mini-Wheats commercial set at a Spelling Bee. The girl at the microphone is asked to spell "aardvark."

She starts out, "A-R..."

Then a little frosted mini-wheat tells her to concentrate. She knows this one. It's the first word in the dictionary.

She takes a breath and begins again, "A-A-R-D-V-A-R-K."

Anyone who has ever even seen a Spelling Bee knows that once the letters leave your lips, there's no taking them back. No matter who comes over and encourages you.

No matter if you've already been to the National Spelling Bee but get too cocky the following year at the silly school-level Bee and, thus, begin to spell the embarrasingly easy word "scribble" by starting with a "c."

No matter. The letters are out.

I can just hear them: Come on, no one will notice we're changing the rules a bit. Or if they do, they won't care.

Frosted Mini-Wheats, I care.

And that kid who passed out, stood up, and spelled "alopecoid" correctly and took 2nd at the National Bee definitely cares.

where everybody knows your name

2006-04-06T22:12:00.000-05:00

I like being a regular.

I like that when I go into Chipotle in my building, they know they need to change their gloves before they make my food to avoid flour contamination.

I like that when I walk into two different Starbucks, they know my name and my order without my having to say anything. And I have a complicated order (Venti non-fat, no-foam, 140 degree vanilla latte. Yeah. Really.).

It's nice to be a regular. There's something comforting about it. Welcoming.

But sometimes I don't want to be. And sometimes the familiarity becomes a little too, well, familiar.

Sometimes I don't want to be a regular because I actually want to order something else, but they've already started making my usual. And I don't want to hurt their feelings by saying I want something else. (Yes, I do know that that's ridiculous. I am an overly sensitive person who is overly sensitive for others as well.)

But then there's the level of familiarity.

I go to the pharmacy by work with some frequency because I am a super unhealthy person. The pharmacist there knows me by name. He does me favors like give me a dose of whatever it is before it's filled if it's going to take a while. He even gives me a cup of water to take it.

I am a regular at the pharmacy.

He's a sweet guy - kind of grandfatherly - which is nice given how much he knows about me just from filling my prescriptions.

Last week when I went in to fill a prescription, I said, "I bet I'm your least healthy customer." And he said, "No, but you are my prettiest customer."

Okay, kind of sweet.

So I go back the next day - yes, the next day - and he asks how I am. It was about a million degrees outside, so I said, "I'm really hot," and he said, "Well, that's not always a bad thing, now, is it?" with, you know, that look on his face. He got my drugs then said, "I always like it when you come in."

And now I'm a little uncomfortable, so I sign the privacy thing and leave.

This past week, I got sick for the millionth time this year. One of my many doctors was kind enough to call in some anti-nausea medication for me. I went to fill it. He took one look at my greenish pale face and handed me over my pre-dose. He told me when to come back, then said, "I'll look forward to seeing you again."

I went to work. And a couple of hours later, I left again.

I wanted the rest of those anti-nausea pills. But a) I wanted to take as few steps as possible and the drugstore is past the parking lot, and b) I didn't feel like seeing the pharmacist again.

I called in a refill for something else the next day.

I didn't want to pick it up. My drugs were just sitting there in their little bin with the pharmacist waiting for me to come in. I finally went at the end of the day yesterday because I had no other choice. They're closed on the weekends and it's downtown.

As he's getting my prescriptions, I commented on how nice it was outside, and he said, "Yeah, I've been watching out the little portal window. It looks beautiful."
He hands me my prescriptions then says, again, "I always like it when you come in." I say, "Thanks. That's nice." I sign the privacy thing. I swipe my card; sign the electronic panel. As I'm about to leave, he says, "You always brighten my day when you come in."

I said, "Thanks. That's nice," again, and "Have a good weekend," and left.

I walked outside and told my friend who was waiting for me how the pharmacist creeped me out. But then I started thinking about it. He said some things that made me uncomfortable. But, really, how bad can it be to brighten someone's day? He stands behind that counter all day, every day, dealing with people, with insurance, with doctors, and yet I've never seen him without a smile on his face.

There are people in my life who brighten my days. It doesn't generally occur to me to tell them. I should.

I am a regular at Chipotle. I am a regular at Starbucks. And I am a regular at the pharmacy.

I like being a regular.

Most of the time.

an interesting little fact.

2006-04-03T18:05:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday of this week, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date will be:

01:02:03 04/05/06.

That won't ever happen again.

Bizarre Sighting

2006-04-02T19:28:00.000-05:00

This morning, on my way to church - church, mind you - I saw a youngish girl standing just slightly in the road. A few guys were scattered about in front of her, next to a parked car.

As I got closer, she spread her legs, lifted her black dress over her head, bent over, and grabbed her ankles.

She had absolutely nothing on underneath.

I'm so not a grown-up.

2006-03-26T19:29:00.000-06:00

I just called my mom because I was so proud that I cooked dinner for myself. Like cooked-cooked. Not heated up a microwave dinner cooked.

Okay, the green beans almondine just needed heating up, but my George Foreman Grill went to town on my sirloin steak. And those pre-cut apples with caramel sauce - delish.

It's still cooking.

Right?

Yeah. I'm totally not a grown-up.

Seriously.

2006-03-24T11:56:00.000-06:00

What is wrong with people?

A Fat Free Cinnamon-Charged Candy. Get Fired Up!

2006-03-20T15:45:00.000-06:00

Hot Tamales make my face sweat.

Just my face.

And yet, I can't stop eating them.

Wait. I just found a good deterrent: Go here and watch the loading page.

Mmm...I bet an image that looks like someone's insides will make people want to eat Hot Tamales!

American Idol

2006-03-09T22:09:00.000-06:00

[I'm on a reality TV kick this week. Sorry.]

My thoughts on tonight's results show, should anyone care:

No Gedeon in the Top 12? But KEVIN is? A crime.

You should be able to vote against people, not just for people.

I think it's cruel and unusual punishment to make people sing right after their hopes and dreams have been dashed.

Is it bad that I'm only glad Ace made the top 12 because he's so hot?

Is it strange that I have a little crush on Elliot Yamin?

Daniel V. is my winner.

2006-03-08T22:49:00.000-06:00

If you don't watch Project Runway, feel free to move on.

I've never been a Santino fan. But I would have accepted his winning. He's got passion. He's got talent. He's got confidence. And he's become suddenly human in the last two episodes.

I'm not a Chloe fan. She flies by the seat of her pants in a way that seems like not caring, not like she's struck by inspiration at the oddest moments.

But Daniel Vosovic... I love Daniel V. Love. Really, what's not to love about Daniel? That floppy hair, those soulful eyes, that smooth voice... but I digress.

I didn't love his collection, except for the 13th look and that one sexy top. But I almost cried actual tears when he didn't win. Daniel V. You'll never be out in my book.

Make that call to Michael Kors.

thoughts on the oscars so far:

2006-03-05T19:45:00.000-06:00

jon stewart: funny
ben stiller in green unitard: not funny
gm commercial: terrific
diet coke "encore" commercial: awesome (in a totally girly kind of way)
playing music throughout the acceptance speeches: bad idea
owen wilson's voice: grating
jennifer aniston: stunning

here's what's awesome about being a grown-up:

2006-03-05T19:24:00.000-06:00

you can eat ice cream and candy for dinner. and there's not one person who can tell you you can't.

overheard at the cingular store, sunday, 2:34pm, CST

2006-03-05T15:36:00.000-06:00

Princess-y Teenage Girl checks out the RAZR. Picks it up. Holds it to her nose.

PRINCESS-Y TEENAGE GIRL: It smells like church.

Puts it back. Gets the Nokia.

"Help, I need somebody... not just anybody..."

2006-03-04T16:03:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, one of my best friends became violently ill with food poisoning. I went to her apartment, got her medicine, held her hair, went for more medicine - whatever she needed.

And I learned a valuable lesson from her: It's good to ask for help.

She wasn't shy about asking for what she needed. She was too sick to worry about it. She'd ask me to hold her hand. To rub her back. To bring her more Pedialyte. And I was glad to be able to do it for her.

This past Tuesday, I had surgery (I'm fine). One of the things I was dreading the most was waking up from the surgery and being helpless. You can't walk on your own. You can't dress yourself. You can't do much at all until the anesthesia wears off.

And even then, I haven't been able to do much.

My parents came to stay with me for a few days and it was hard for me to even ask them to do things. But I had no choice.

Accepting help is not something I'm good at. I like to be in control; I hate feeling helpless. And there are times in the past when I have broken down and asked people for help and gotten the opposite - which teaches you not to ask.

The trick, I think, comes in asking the right people for help.

Or at least being able to accept help when it's offered. Because, really, when we care about someone, we want to help them. It makes us feel as good as the person we're helping.

When my parents left on Thursday, my girlfriends (including the friend above) showed up with food and love. I still tried to do things on my own - cut cake; make ice packs; look for the cat who had wandered outside. They wouldn't let me. I had to sit back and let them take care of me.

And it was nice.

A Fatally Magnetic Attraction

2006-03-03T15:16:00.000-06:00

It follows me. I can't help it.

A couple of weeks ago, I went out of town. I left work too late, but going 85 all the way to the airport ensured my timely-enough arrival. Made it through security without a glitch. Had some time to kill, so I went the opposite of my gate (B5) to Starbucks at B15. Priorities.

Stopped off at the newsstand for some magazines and water. Bathroom break. It was a few minutes to boarding, so I headed for my gate. I get as far as B6 and see only a sign and an arrow: B1-B5. Sh*t.

I start booking. I am focused. I am carefully balancing my coffee. I go on endless moving sidewalk after endless moving sidewalk. Seriously, miles of moving sidewalks. I reach the end. Another sign: Terminals A & C.

I missed my turn. Back on the endless sidewalks, running, coffee spilling all over me in the process. Make it to the gate to find the plane has been delayed.

Weekend, however, is awesome.

Back to airport - plane delayed indefinitely. Get back hours later than planned. Pull out my cell phone to make a call - the screen is totally blank. I guess at last dialed calls and correct buttons to make the call I'm trying to make.

I go to the baggage claim. My bag is the last one out.

Go to parking garage and have forgotten where I parked.

I finally find my car. I heave my over-packed suitcase (seriously, I had enough clothes to stay two weeks) into the trunk. I'm exhausted. My plan of picking up Pei Wei and watching Grey's Anatomy has already been killed. Now all I want is to go home, unpack, and go to bed.

My car won't start. I try several times. It's not starting.

I call Volkswagen Service. My service ran out January 31st. I call AAA. They can come in a little over 2 hours. I tell the person that it's 29 degrees. I have no heat. I'm in a deserted parking lot at the airport.

This matters not at all to her.

I take out my cell phone again to give in and call my brother-in-law. Phone totally dead. I plug it in to the car and luckily it allows me to dial (screen still gone, however). He comes, jumpstarts my car, and I go home.

I wake up to find my phone has taken its last breath.

At lunch, I spend way too much $ on a new phone that I buy only because it's ridiculously sexy. No one can hear me on it.

I return it. I get a decidedly less-sexy phone. I leave Cingular. The charger keeps popping out of the phone. I go back to Cingular. I get a new charger; leave; it continues to pop out. I go back to Cingular.

I get another phone. We reprogram it. Chrissie (my Cingular salesperson and I are on a first-name basis now) says, "If I knew you better, I'd say you have bad luck."

"Chrissie," I say, "you don't need to know me better to know this."

I go to my sister's so we can finally take our planned trip to IKEA. My car won't move. Maybe 2 mph with the accelerator completely depressed.

Speaking of depressed.

AAA tows my car to the dealer.

Monday, I find out that my car simply needs a new battery & it's under warranty. This is good news. I pick it up and hit the tollway to go meet my family for dinner. I have Daniel Powter's "Bad Day" cranked up in my car (I think it might be a super-cheesy song, but I really like it), so I don't notice the flashing lights in my rear view mirror for some time.

I pull off the tollway. I wait for the ticket I certainly deserve, as I was doing my regular 85.

I think perhaps I shouldn't listen to songs entitled "Bad Day." I'm just asking my old friend to show up.

Mr. Highway Patrol Man comes to my window. "I'm stopping you tonight because I clocked you going over 55."

Yes, a lot over 55. I almost want to laugh, because, seriously.

He goes back to his car. He comes back. He gives me a warning.

Welcome, Good Luck. Welcome. It's lovely to see you. I hope you'll stay a while.

The Missing.

2006-02-22T21:27:00.000-06:00

One of the sentences on my "About Me" section says, "I miss people." The first chapter of my novel (which is really just my MFA thesis) is a survey of the main character. One of the questions?

What's the worst feeling in the world? My main character's answer (and mine):

"Losing someone. In any way."

I grew up in small town West Texas and had the same group of friends from the time I was three, with one major exception in my friend Robyn. When I decided to go out of state for college, I found myself in completely unfamiliar surroundings. I didn't know a soul.

Somewhat as a result, my freshman year roommate Larkin and I became instant best friends. And then we had a falling out. Which is its own story and not the one I'm telling.

After we graduated, we both moved to LA (she a few months after I did), and we became close again. That's another long(ish) story, but suffice it to say, after some time passed, I realized that while I called her a lot to hang out, she didn't call me so much.

So I put the friendship to a test. I stopped calling her to see how long it would take before she called me.

She didn't. So I walked away from the friendship. I crashed a party she had one night. I spent more time comparing chin scars with Matthew Perry than talking to her.

It was her going-away party before she moved to San Francisco.

Almost a year after that night at her apartment where I said to her, "I'm crashing your party," and she said, "I'm glad," she died suddenly from a congenital heart defect that had never been diagnosed. At 28. We hadn't spoken in at least a year.

I used to dream about Larkin all the time. She'd raise her hand in a wave. She'd smile the smile she always had on her face even when she was sad. She wore her clothes from freshman year. The black and white dress from Betsey Johnson. She'd be on swings. By escalators. She never spoke.

I saw her in real life too - for a really long time. Everywhere I went. Only it wasn't her. But it always took me a while to remember.

And I hated myself for never just asking her to coffee. A drink. Dinner. Whatever. Trying to figure out what had happened to us. Where the breakdown occurred. Understanding why she stopped calling instead of the choosing not to call myself.

Her 35th birthday would have been the end of this month. I would give anything to be able to pick up the phone and wish her a happy birthday.

Though I can never resolve what happened with Larkin, I have always tried to carry the lesson I learned into other relationships.

When a friendship breaks down, I do everything I can to repair it, even if it's my fault. Even if the fault is equal. Even if the fault lies heavily with the other person.

Because I miss people.

Because I hate losing someone, in any way.

Because I love people, maybe sometimes when I shouldn't. I don't know.

The problem is that you can't control other people. You can't make them tell you why they don't want to be friends with you anymore. With some, you know. You've screwed up too many times. And whether they've screwed up a thousand times more than you have, you still understand. They forgive their own moments (half the time they don't even recognize them); but they don't forgive yours. And while you can't help but care about them - as much as you might want to stop - they don't care about you anymore.

Perhaps the problem is I forgive their moments, too. I forgive almost anything.

Sometimes, even when the unforgivable point has hit, I still forgive. And I find myself having to remind myself of the bad parts of them, the bad things they've done or said, rather than forget, simply for self-preservation.

But sometimes, you aren't given the explanation. Someone walks away. And you just don't know why.

You can try.

You can try as you like. You can try as many times as you like. And it won't make any difference. You don't get an answer. You're just out.

I hate losing someone. In any way.

I miss people.

Sometimes I wish I didn't. But mostly, even when it hurts, I'd rather try. I'd rather forgive. I'd rather miss someone than walk away.

Sometimes, you don't have a choice.

Magnetic Luck, Part IV

2006-02-14T00:23:00.000-06:00

So I had a realization on Sunday morning while at church. And, yes, I've waited until today to post it. After three posts on bad luck.

It will take me a minute to get to this realization. But I will.

I was thinking about the previously-mentioned break-in. And how my brother-in-law who, came over, late night, when he had to be at work the next morning, and hugged me and supported me as I cried over not only the loss of my possessions, but also the violation of my home, and stayed with me not only through the police report, but also until the maintenance guy, Jose, showed up to board up my window. Then helped me load up my animals, the things I would need for the next week, and took me to their house to stay, where I would feel (more) safe.

The next day, Valentine's Day, my brother-in-law came home from work with a dozen roses for my sister, a dozen for my niece, and a dozen for me.

At this point, I knew all of four people in Dallas: my sister, my brother-in-law, my niece, and my nephew. This gesture - after such a traumatic experience - meant more than anyone could imagine.

I thought back over some other not so lucky moments in my time in Dallas. I thought of my celiac diagnosis and how my mom made me a delicious gluten-free carrot cake for my birthday. How my sister began to check ingredients to make meals I could come over for. How my friends began to help me communicate my ridiculous dietary restrictions with waiters and new people.

I thought of some horrific nights - like my last birthday - that my friends had gone through with me. And how they helped me pick up the pieces; reminded me that the past was the past; helped me move forward.

Of realizing I have to have surgery in a couple of weeks, coming back to the office, yes, in tears (b/c, sadly, I have become a crier in my older age), going to a meeting, and coming out to find a beautiful care package from Jen & Kellee at my desk.

Of having another bad night, a night I would give anything to erase, and having my friends continue to rally around me. Continue to tell me they love me, when I don't feel remotely deserving.

Of waking up today less than thrilled with this forced holiday, then being surprised throughout the day with lovely & amazing gestures.

So on Sunday morning, as I sat in the high school auditorium where we meet, watching our pastor on a big screen (yes, that's right), I considered the obvious: I may feel I have it more than others, but the fact is, everyone has bad luck. It's part of life. But what makes it bearable are the people around us who love us in spite of bad choices. Who surround us with that love when circumstances are out of our control.

And that has nothing to do with luck.

Magnetic Luck, Part III

2006-02-13T23:44:00.000-06:00

Today marks the one-year anniversary of the magnificent break-in wherein Very Bad People who had apparently been "watching [me] for some time" smashed in my window while I was babysitting my niece and nephew - so my sister & brother-in-law could go out for Valentine's Day, no less (effing Valentine's Day, whatever) - and took pretty much everything I owned. See?

When I got home from dinner tonight (hi, Fiddy), part of me fully expected to find glass everywhere and possessions gone. (Actually, I check for broken windows every time I come home.) Luckily, tonight, no such bad luck.

This is good.

Bad day, but good return home. So there is some balance in the universe.

I think the weekend is looking up.

Tomorrow: Magnetic Luck, Part IV. But this is a good one. A magnificent realization.

Magnetic Luck, Part II

2006-02-13T12:13:00.000-06:00

The intern and I are wearing our matching sweaters again today.

Magnetic Luck

2006-02-11T21:35:00.000-06:00

Here are a couple of facts about me that often go hand in hand:

I have bad luck.
I am a drama magnet.

Things so often don't go my way that people say things like, "Of course that happened to you."

When I was diagnosed with celiac in September, my sister told her friend Ginger, whose response was, "Of course that happened to Pam."

That falls into the bad luck category. In a kind of big way.

There are plenty of other examples of my bad luck but the drama thing is more interesting.

Sidebar:
To be fair, I often create my own drama. I am creative and, therefore, extraordinarily sensitive so that doesn't help.

So, sometimes though I am justified in having a reaction, my reaction can border on dramatic.

Okay. Disclaimers out of the way.

Tonight, after spending 2 and a half hours at the doc-in-the-box getting diagnosed with acute sinisitus and acute pharyngitis - all of which are probably short for my body would like me to slow down - I went to meet my sister and her two sons to eat.

I felt like staying home. But all I'd had to eat today were 2 Sugar Babies. Why 2? Because I knocked the box over and the rest of them spilled all over the floor.

I got there before them and went ahead and ordered my baked potato and side of cold bell peppers. (I don't know, it sounded good.) I had to go through my usual machinations of if someone's touched bread, can they change their gloves, etc. So the guy behind the counter already thought I was a little crazy.

I choose a booth and pull up a high chair for the baby. He brings my food. So now I'm sitting alone at a giant booth with an empty high chair. He looks at me with a mix of confusion and concern as he sets down my food.

When my sister finally arrives and goes to place their order, he says, "Oh. It all makes sense now. I couldn't figure out why she was eating alone with an empty high chair."

This is all just backstory.

We're eating a pleasant meal, my 2-year-old nephew is being the cutest child on the planet, when a guy in a baggy red t-shirt, sweats, and a baseball cap comes in and says (to all 7 of us in the restaurant), "Does anyone here drive a blue Jetta?"

That would be me.

"Oh, man," he says. "I just smashed your car to bits."

Excuse me?

"I smashed right into it. The good news is only one side is crushed. And I'm rich. How much was that car? About $30,000?" I say yes and he says he'll give it to me in cash.

I tried not to judge, but this guy didn't look like he had 30 grand to hand over.

I skeptically follow him out, thinking how much it totally and completely sucks that my car is wrecked. He runs into me and kind of puts his arm around me for a second, which freaks me out.

When we get out there, a parked car blocks mine into place. A black truck with its hood up is next to mine. In front of it are three guys wearing sweatshirts with the hoods up.

The guy turns, "I was just kidding. I didn't hit your car."

"Are you joking?" I start to back away.

"We just need a jump. Can you give our car a jump? We've got somewhere to be."

"So do I. Sorry. Why would you say something like that?"

"Ah, man, it was just a joke."

"That's a hell of a way to ask someone to do you a favor."

He laughs. He asks if I could just move my car so the car blocking me in can jump the other car. I say I have to get my keys, and I go inside.

My sister has gotten the guy from the restaurant who, luckily, is a very large, very burly guy. He accompanies me out. He knows one of the guys from the ice cream store. They shake hands. He supervises while I move my car.

Cars are stacked up waiting for spots.

I go around one of them and there, waiting for me, in a rare moment of good luck, is an empty spot in front of Starbucks. Just being parked at Starbucks makes me happy.

Still, as I walk back to the restaurant, my heart is beating a little fast waiting for one of these guys to run over, tackle me, grab my keys, and steal my Jetta when I already feel like hell.

(I know, sometimes I create drama. But you have to admit this was weird.)

I go back inside.

My sister turns to me and says, "Of course that happened to you."

"At what point do you say enough is enough?" - The Mexican

2006-02-10T11:35:00.000-06:00

Today.

James Blunt is a Whore.

2006-02-07T22:08:00.000-06:00

I'm a big fan of James Blunt. Anyone who knows me very well knows this. Half of our office is. All it takes is Stacy K beginning to sing "Goodbye, My Lover" in the way that only she can for all the girls on 5 (okay, not all, but 4 others of us) to join in.

It's very dramatic when we do it. Um, melodramatic. But awesome.

So when JB's music showed up in an episode of Grey's Anatomy, I was excited. Here was my favorite singer getting major play on my favorite show.

I looked forward to his appearance on SNL. I've now seen it twice, live and the repeat. The night it first aired, I was having a holiday party so it wasn't the best atmosphere to really pay attention, but it seemed he was playing to the camera in a very annoying way.

When it aired in a repeat a couple of weeks ago, my suspicion was confirmed. And though he played both of my favorite songs from the album, the way he grinned into the camera the entire time was disconcerting. He seemed to forget there was a live audience in front of him.

He also seemed to forget that these songs are sad, especially "Goodbye, My Lover." Downright heartbreaking. And yet that little smirk into the camera.

I lost a little respect for him.

Then "High" was featured in a Hilton Hotels commercial.

Dropped many more points.

Now, "You're Beautiful" pops up on my favorite XM channel all the time, and though I still like it, the replacement of "f*cking high" for "flying high" seriously annoys me. Because when it first played on XM, it had the uncensored version.

That's not his fault.

But it reminds me of this goofy face he made into the camera when he sang "flying high" on SNL. Like he had a secret joke with everyone watching. Annoying.

Tonight I turn on the TV and watch the last half of Love Monkey (because it's on, not because I think it's good, because I don't) and they're playing James Blunt in the background.

And I think, hmm. Perhaps he's approaching overexposure.

Then who shows up at the end of the episode? James Blunt. Just being James Blunt. (He's very short, by the way.)

Overexposure, reached.

There's something about being slightly undiscovered by the masses - or at least seeming to be undiscovered by the masses - that make artists that much more popular. But when they flock to the masses, when they themselves become the masses, well, they become so much less appealing.

And so, James Blunt, I must say, goodbye, my lover.

I like your shoes.

2006-02-04T17:51:00.000-06:00

So I have this policy:

When you think something nice about someone, you tell them. Even if it's someone you aren't particularly a fan of. Even if it's your arch nemesis.

I met my arch nemesis in person a few weeks ago. He had on cute shoes. I didn't want to tell him because, you know, arch nemesis. But I did. Because that's my policy.

About a week ago, we had a client presentation that lasted forever because they did the media, search, and creative presentations all in one sitting. The VP of media - whom I had never seen present - turned out to be an excellent presenter. Not that I didn't think he wouldn't be (he's the VP for a reason), I'd just never thought about it. But I was impressed.

I saw him later in the day and almost didn't say anything, because he certainly doesn't need affirmation from me. But, you know, the policy, so I told him I thought he was an excellent presenter. I figured he'd give me a cursory "thanks" and keep walking.

Instead, he paused, and said, "Thank you. I really appreciate your saying that."

You never know when that compliment you're thinking (that may seem insignificant) might be exactly what the other person needs to hear. Even if it's hard to say it.

My arch nemesis with the cute shoes? Now turns out to be one of my favorite people. So you never know.

2006-02-03T22:35:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I find myself looking forward to going to sleep because I can't wait to see what I'm going to dream.

2006

2006-01-31T01:48:00.000-06:00

So, I posted a while back about how 2006 had no choice but to be better than 2005. Only a few people saw it (hi, Ajoy) before I deleted it.

And several times in the past month, I've almost posted about how 2006 has so far lived up to my expectations, and then some.

I've changed my mind. So far, 2006 - a couple of really great highlights, but overall - not so great.

So... I can either cross my fingers for 2007, or February.

I'm going to go with February because I'm working on being optimistic. We'll see what happens.

Happy Valentine's Day, Now I'm Going to Kill Myself

2006-01-29T02:03:00.000-06:00

So I noticed online tonight that Post Secret is hosting an event for Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day is either a super-happy or super-depressing day. Not much room in the middle. No matter what side you fall on, though, do you really want to spend it reading how people want to kill themselves, kill others, were abused, hate their spouse, hate their co-workers, hate their families, hate themselves, etc.?

Six signs you are sleep-deprived:

2006-01-28T16:40:00.000-06:00

1. You look down at your XM radio on your way to work and see the words "Granny Coverage." You try to figure out what this could possibly mean. As they start talking about red carpets and music, you think, "Huh. Maybe it's some weird concert series." Then they say, "January's Grammy month at XM22."

2. Also on your way to work, you see a man wave at you from the street. You don't know this man. But you wave back because it's the polite thing to do. Then you see, in your rear view mirror, the bus he has been flagging down stop to pick him up.

3. You say to a fellow copywriter: "We all need a little levity." Then you keep going: "And sometimes some brevity." And then... "Or maybe just a nappity."

4. You swear your new poem is going to become the catchphrase of the century. Perhaps a #1 rap song.

5. You find yourself talking to the vending machine upstairs, telling it you are pleased with its newest offering, and that you hope it's gluten-free so you can return and purchase it.

6. You spell "chair" "chari." You spell "amazed" "imazed." And you went to the National Spelling Bee.

that not-sleeping thing

2006-01-25T23:14:00.000-06:00

so, generally, i think the refusal to go to bed even when i'm tired thing has to do with postponing the start of the next day, but tonight i have a new theory. i think sometimes not going to bed is more about feeling like the issues of today have not sufficiently been addressed to let the day come to an end. there's an unsettledness that won't allow you (me) to sleep.

last night, i went to bed at a fine hour, but i had horrific nightmares all night. i've finally reached an age where i realize that dreaming that i live with all of my fellow copywriters, that i get electrocuted by the light switch and am incapable of making sound, then wake up in a cold sweat to find adrenaline coursing through my body as if i've actually been electrocuted, is simply a manifestation of anxiety. and when this kind of dream repeats itself over and over and over again, and each one stars my co-workers, in spite of my exhaustion the next morning, i still know it's simply anxiety.

so tonight, my aversion to sleep means an aversion to these anxiety dreams. i'd rather sort it out awake than wake up electrocuted.

but i'd also like to maybe be on time to work tomorrow... what's a girl to do?

if you aren't listening to amos lee...

2006-01-25T23:11:00.000-06:00

...you should be.

i burned a copy of the cd for a friend today, but then in my rush to leave for work (late, as always) i drove off with it on the top of my car. who knows where it is now. hopefully being listened to.

perception

2006-01-24T19:34:00.000-06:00

So we're in a concepting meeting at work today and I'm sitting on the couch next to my friend Jen. The entire meeting, she's bouncing her foot up and down, up and down, up and down nonstop. The couch is kind of bouncing along with it and it's driving me completely crazy. But I don't say anything because I'm generally a painfully polite person.

An hour later, she and I are talking and Jen says to me, "You were driving me crazy in that meeting. You kept fidgeting and rustling your papers and drinking your soda then putting it back on the ground then picking it back up again then you got up and left then you came back in and back with the soda and the papers..."

So I shared with her the bouncing foot annoyance. And the fact that I had to leave because I realized I had failed to give a copy change to my art director for a presentation tomorrow.

And then we hugged. Because we're girls. And girls are like that.

i can't help it - I'm a fidgeter.

I'm not sure that's a word.

Desperation leads to Carson Daly

2006-01-21T00:48:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, no matter how exhausted I am, I just can't make myself go to bed. Even when I've run out of things to look at online and I've resorted to watching Carson Daly (who seems to have lost quite a bit of weight, btw), I still refuse to go to bed. I just sit here and yawn and rub my eyes and pay half-attention to Carson Daly because, really, who wants to watch Carson Daly? There's a reason he's on at this hour.

Okay, he's just made the same joke for the 4th time. It wasn't funny the first time. I give. Goodnight.

No, we didn't plan it.

2006-01-19T15:13:00.001-06:00

Today, the intern and I are wearing pretty much the same thing: striped sweaters with alternating colors of green. Forget that our greens aren't even in the same family - mine are kelly & lime, hers turquoise-y and, um, lighter turquoise-y - because that has not stopped anyone from walking by us (oh, yes, she sits right in front of me) and laughing. Repeatedly.

Do I now have to call the intern in the mornings before work to make sure we aren't dressed the same? I'm already late for work every day. I can't really add wardrobe checking with the intern into my morning routine.

And right as I typed that last period, someone walked by and said, "You guys are cute."

Cute. Whatever.

tradition (tradition)

2005-12-28T22:45:00.000-06:00

Like most families, mine has traditions. And no time is this more apparent than at the holidays. On Christmas Eve, my mom makes homemade enchiladas then we go to the Christmas Eve service at church. We open our presents Christmas morning, not Christmas Eve. We have lunch at our house and it's generally the same food every year. We eat leftovers then go to the movies Christmas night. And we shop the sales the day after.

But with each passing year, some of the traditions fall by the wayside. The movies on Christmas night was the first to go. With the additions of my nieces and nephews, either someone stayed behind and babysat, or no one went. At first, it upset me. I don't like change in general, and I hate breaking traditions. Then I started to accept that we would, at best, watch a rental at home and, more likely, do nothing.

And with each passing year, I hear myself utter the same sentence: It doesn't feel like Christmas. Whether this has to do with growing older, or the fact that it's generally 70 and sunny on Christmas Day, I'm not sure.

This year, again, I found myself thinking it didn't seem like Christmas. We had done most of our gift-giving at Thanksgiving because my sister and her family were spending Christmas at her in-laws. And even the traditions we upheld didn't quite seem the same.

Christmas Eve we had lasagna. My mom made me a special version with corn noodles, which was extremely sweet since I can't eat "real" pasta anymore. No Mexican food because she figured I eat it all the time since it's one of the few things I can still eat. Before the service, we met my grandparents and uncle at the cemetery. My mother had read somewhere that in Austria, on Christmas Eve, they light candles at the graves of deceased family members in remembrance. So off we went to do this.

At each grave, we paused to speak a few words. But all anyone seemed to come up with was food-related. Maybe we were hungry. "Mom always baked a cake. Sometimes it didn't turn out. One time she made me a birthday cake and the whole thing fell over!" "She always liked to make cookies at Christmas." "I remember that. I got to decorate them." The next one: "The one thing about her, she was a perfectionist. If she baked a cake, it was perfect." "Boy, she sure was a good cook." The next: "I remember he used to always give me cups of marshmallows. And sugar cubes." It wasn't quite as moving as I think my mom imagined.

We went to the Christmas Eve service, as usual. But I found myself wondering how many more songs they really needed to sing, and frustrated that no one thought to add more deacons to serve communion to a congregation that size. Even when it came to my all-time favorite part - the lighting of the candles while singing "Silent Night" - all I could do was laugh because my brother kept blowing out my candle. And afterwards, as I was telling one of my friends how I can't eat the bread in communion because of the celiac, my mom burst out in relieved laughter. "I forgot you couldn't eat it! I thought you had some problem in your life and you didn't feel you should partake!" "So, um, why did you think I drank the juice?" "I thought in between the bread being passed and the juice that you prayed through the problem!" Only my mom.

After the service, Mom wanted to drive back to the cemetery to see if the candles were still burning. To be honest, I just wanted to go home and put on my pajamas. I'm not one for being dressed up for long. I settled for a stop at Sonic to get drinks. Because of course you should have 32 ounces of diet Coke from Sonic to go to the graveyard. Thirty minutes later (short-staffed, you know, because of Christmas and all), we had our drinks in hand and we were off.

We made the ten minute drive back to the cemetery. As we drove between the trees that line the entrance, it was dark. Then, off to the right, we saw two flames glowing in the night: my grandparents. As we wove further in, another: my stepgrandmother's first husband. Off in the distance: my other grandmother. And further around, a family friend. The only sound in the car was the Trans-Siberian Orchestra playing quietly on the radio. It was lovely. And in that moment, a new tradition was born.

2005-12-01T22:02:00.000-06:00

When you feel like you have nothing left to say, do you truly have nothing left to say, or do you just have so much to say that it has to be left unsaid?

Is there anything more annoying

2005-11-29T19:53:00.000-06:00

than voice automation?

finding gratitude

2005-11-20T22:25:00.000-06:00

Maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful means recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciating small victories. Admiring the strength it takes to simply be human. Maybe we're thankful for the familiar things we know, and maybe we're thankful for the things we'll never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.

- Meredith, Grey's Anatomy

the dog will not leave the porch

2005-11-20T17:26:00.000-06:00

There's a point, on a bad day, where you make calls. You make a stab at making plans because you don't want to be alone. Enough time goes by, and that desire passes. You find yourself hoping no one calls back because the thought of having to open your mouth and make conversation becomes overwhelming. You don't want to hear one more person say, What's wrong? So then you isolate. And sink further into your own head --which is the one place no one wants to be. You find yourself watching the clock, wishing for the hours to pass so it can be late enough to justify going to bed. You find yourself dreading bedtime because you probably won't sleep. You dread sleeping just as much. Sleeping means waking up and having to do it all over again.

You understand, intellectually, that nothing is that bad. You understand that many people, people you know and love, are dealing with unspeakable pain. You feel selfish for the way you feel. You can't feel otherwise. The very idea that you might feel good anywhere in the future is nonsense. You make the mistake of letting your mother hear it in your voice. She calls you six times in a day. You want to stop answering. She will worry. And call more. So you answer, and try to make your voice sound otherwise. It's exhausting.

I once heard Padgett Powell describe depression as the dog of loneliness. Others call it the beast. I call it a vicious, never-ending cycle.

Soul viewing moments.

2005-11-14T22:42:00.000-06:00

Have you ever known someone who you didn't think much of - or didn't give much thought to - and then you saw that person in his/her element and everything changed? Or maybe even someone you thought quite a lot of, but never quite saw them in the light that you had this feeling they could live in, if only they chose to do so?

I once dated a guy whom I'll call A because his name did not start with A. A was a sweet guy. My only real problem with him was that he liked me so much more than I liked him. I wanted to like him more. I just didn't. One night, he invited me to see his band play. It was just before a holiday break and I didn't really want to go. I had a plane to catch the next morning, somewhat early. Yet I felt obligated and, so, I went, vowing to end things with A as soon after Christmas as possible.

And then I saw him play. He was in his element. His drumsticks flew over his drums and his face transformed into something I hadn't seen before. And it was beautiful. And I wanted every inch of A to belong to me.

We shared a cab to the airport the next morning.

It's a decent story: Girl doesn't like boy that much; girl sees boy in new light; girl falls head over heels for boy. Unfortunately, he didn't play the drums every night in my living room. He was just regular A, non-drum-playing A who still liked me more than I liked him and, thus, the relationship ended. Not prettily. But still. That moment. I won't forget that moment.

I watched Spanglish on Saturday, and there's a scene where Flor watches John cook, something his wife seemingly never does. He was in his element. He came alive, and Flor - though already attracted to him - truly saw him in that moment. Her attraction to him - really, her love for him - was cemented.

Being able to see that moment, to glimpse into a person's core, his/her soul - even for the most fleeting of moments - can instigate an inward shift. You see his brilliance. You realize that he is, in fact, capable of the greatness you thought all along. And you are hypnotically drawn in.

Probably not a good sign.

2005-11-13T00:53:00.000-06:00

Is it a problem that I start dreading Monday morning Saturday night?

Do you look in the mirror?

2005-10-31T23:02:00.000-06:00

-or-
An Open Letter to Def Leppard:
We do not come see you because we're curious what you've "been working on lately." We come to see you because we want to hear all the singles. Over and over again. Period. Thanks for "Love Bites." "Foolin'" was a nice touch. Maybe we left before "Pour Some Sugar on Me."

Still.

We didn't get our $1's worth. Not even with the rousing cover of Badfinger's "No Matter What," a personal favorite that brings back memories of Larkin, my now-deceased freshman-year college roommate.

Pyromania? Hands-down favorite album of 1983. Still remember singing tracks word-for-word in the showers at summer camp with my best friend, Shannon. Hysteria? Concert in 1987--maybe the best concert I ever went to. Still remember being with Shannon once again (we were die-hard DL fans), our legs dangling over the ledge at the Odessa, TX Coliseum, clutching the railing for a better view.

2005 at Schmirnoff? Not so much. Not even the light show measured up. Company was awesome. Show... yeah. Not so much.

"Rock of Ages." Can you think of a better way to open the show than, "Gunter glieben glauchen globen... All right. I got something to say... It's better to burn out. Than fade away..." I didn't think so.

Long live rock 'n'roll. You betcha.
Then again, what can you really expect when you get four tickets for $4.20?

Rock of Ages. Rock. Of. Ages.

Be the change.

2005-10-28T14:49:00.000-05:00

All good things must come to an end. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. Change is in the wind. Time changes all things.

Nothing remains the same, no matter how much you might want it to. Every day, every second, we are changing. Gravity is pulling. Life is pushing. The planet is moving and we move with it. Moments are frozen in photographs, in memories. But, often, what we see in our mind’s eye, in the printed photograph (or, more likely, in the digital one on our computer) is a reminder of what is past, what has changed.

Some change we welcome. Some change we recognize as being a vital necessity in moving forward, in simply continuing to live. And some, we beg for a rewind.

There’s no rewinding life. There isn’t even a pause button.

“Don’t ever change." A typical yearbook sign-off. Does anyone really want that? Would we want to be who we were at seventeen forever? Would we want those around us to truly not change? I don’t want to be who I was at seventeen, or even twenty-seven. Yet I can remember moments from both of those years of recognizing change and desperately wanting everything to remain the same. I thank God it didn't. I know exactly where I would be if nothing had changed from when I was seventeen. It wouldn't be pretty.

We can't look back at all change and say that. Sometimes things change and we don't know why, and maybe we never will, but perhaps it's because we can’t see the full picture yet. Maybe we will in the moment before death. Maybe not.

But just as there is no pause and no rewind, there is also no fast forward. We can't see the future. So maybe the changes that come our way are meant to be. Maybe without them, we'd never get to wherever it is we are supposed to be.

I have a ring with this quote from Gandhi inscribed on it: "Be the change you wish to see in the world." Perhaps, at the end of the day, that is the change we should pursue, and the change we should embrace. Our own conscious changes to make the world a better place than it was before we came along. Even if it's just our own small world. If we approached each day wondering how we might make life a little better for someone else, for those we care for (and for those we don't - a difficult, but important, task) instead of thinking about how we might make our own lives better, I think our own lives would, inherently, unmistakably, be better.

a short conversation

2005-10-27T16:28:00.000-05:00

Me: I need a day off so I can figure out my life.
Lexi: ...I think that might take a little more than a day.

like angel wings covering the sky

2005-10-22T23:38:00.000-05:00

Trust 2.0

2005-10-21T16:48:00.000-05:00

[begun 10.19.05]

I had a bizarre thought today and I'm still in the process of having it, so bear with me as I work it out here. I've been anti-bloggy lately, but had a surge of blogginess so I'm taking advantage of it. Here goes:

Is it possible that Trust actually = Distrust?

My friend K left for Germany today, where she'll meet up with her boyfriend who left a few days ago. When we were speaking on the phone a couple of nights ago, she in Atlanta, I on my front porch sipping a glass of wine with my cat (I was sipping the wine, not the cat, she was just on the porch with me), we talked about how much nicer it is to travel with someone than alone.

"But," K said, "I just sleep the whole time anyway, so it doesn't really matter."

"Yes, but when you're at the airport, there's no one to watch your stuff if you have to go to the bathroom or get some water or a soda."

"Good point."

It wasn't that long ago that we'd simply turn to the person closest to us at the airport -- no matter who that person was; we were no respecters of people when we needed our things watched -- and say, "Would you mind watching my things for me?" And they'd smile and nod and you'd leave them with all of your personal belongings while you trotted off in search of a diet Coke. And often when you'd return, they would ask you to return the favor. 9/11 changed all of that. If someone asked you to watch his/her things today, you would not only likely refuse, you might call Security. (I'd actually probably say yes, but that's a different story.)

All this is backstory. Because my first thought after that conversation was that it's sad how little we can trust each other today; circumstances of life have dictated that we don't. A select group of terrorists have mandated that we can't. So when we do put our trust in someone, is it really a matter of checks and balances? Are we trusting them so they will trust us? Are we watching their things so they will watch ours? Does true trust exist, and, if so, what does it look like?

If asked, I would categorize myself as a very trusting person. I tend to believe the best in people until proven otherwise. And then I still believe the best in them. And I believe it again. And again. Until proven enough times and then I walk away. As I posted months ago in my 100 things about me post -- I give people a lot of strikes. But once I count them out, it's pretty permanent. The fact is, I rarely reach that permanent point, though I could make a pretty good list of people who have stricken me from their lists. But I digress. And that's probably my next blog posting.

So when someone says to me, "I'm telling you the truth," or "Trust me," I'm much less likely to believe it's true or trust them. If it really were true, would they feel the need to iterate it? When I was teaching, I would always tell my students to strike sentiments like, "It is a true fact that blah blah blah," because if they are stating it as fact, we believe it to be so.

All this (maybe) brings me back to my original thought: Do we trust others because we have to? Because not to is much worse than choosing to believe that what others present as fact is, in fact, fact? Is there any true trust left in the world, and are there any truly trustworthy people? Or does Trust actually = Distrust?

my favorite building

2005-10-21T08:18:00.000-05:00

reflected in another building as I walked back to the office last night. yay, camera phones. such awesome quality...

Photos, 10.19.05

2005-10-20T22:15:00.000-05:00

Posted a day after the fact.

The sun setting over Beltline. My fascination for sunsets never fades.

Me, reflected in my steering wheel. I don't look very happy, but I wasn't unhappy. Just blurry, perhaps.

Wow.

2005-10-14T14:31:00.000-05:00

I just went to my browser to type in www.pandora.com and somehow typed www.braindead.com. Awesome.

and we all keep scurrying

2005-10-14T11:21:00.000-05:00

"He wakes up in the morning
does his teeth, bite to eat, and he's rolling.
Never changes a thing.
The week ends, the week begins...

And all the little ants are marching
red and black antennas waving..."

- Ants Marching, Dave Matthews Band

Is this just me?

2005-10-13T12:52:00.000-05:00

Does anyone else ever have a day where everything's going fine, you're in a perfectly good mood, then you get this weird feeling of being upset or anxious or frustrated and you have no clue why? And you track back through the last hour or so to see what put you in that mood and can't find anything?

It's probably just me.

Fine.

Starbucks, my addiction.

2005-10-12T11:39:00.000-05:00

Does coffee ever taste like dirt to anyone else? And when it does, why do we still drink it? Obsessively?

More Flickr-ing

2005-09-29T16:16:00.000-05:00

So apparently with the Flash badge, it will only show your most recent 25 uploaded pictures. If you use the HTML badge - which I have up now - they randomly cycle, but only as you refresh or revisit the page. And now they show up in a long vertical line instead of the cool little puzzle formation of the Flash badge. Choices, choices... and none of them quite right.

Insomnia

2005-09-28T01:27:00.000-05:00

It's back. Awesome.

Flickr-ing

2005-09-27T23:07:00.000-05:00

So I added a badge from Flickr that's supposed to cycle through all my photos uploaded to Flickr. So far, it seems to just show the same 12 over and over again though it has over 100 to choose from. We'll see how long this lasts.

Wow, do I wish I had posted this 5 minutes ago.

2005-09-27T23:06:00.000-05:00

Jennifer Garner's on Leno tonight and not that any of us cares, but earlier in the interview, she was talking about the baby -- which she calls "the kid" -- and she said, "Sh--the kid..." and I thought, Hmm. Guess JenBen is having a girl.

Then, five minutes later, she very clearly said, "And she..." Then she covers her mouth like, "Oh, sh*t, I just let it out..."

I knew, Jen. I caught it the first time. I was just too busy messing around with Flickr to share it with the world.

enveloped by water and swishing

2005-09-26T14:24:00.000-05:00

Is it weird that I find being inside the drive-in car wash at the gas station comforting?

Live TV

2005-09-25T18:41:00.000-05:00

Wouldn't it be good if life were TiVo? You could pause the amazing moments, fast forward through the bad stuff, and hit rewind when you want to go back and do something over.

Except my TiVo doesn't really work. It never knows what channel it's on.

I guess that's a little more like real life.

Stocking up at Whole Foods

2005-09-23T10:50:00.000-05:00

Last night I went to Whole Foods to get groceries. I took my time wandering the aisles because I had time to kill before meeting a friend of mine at Mi Cocina for a late dinner. I guess I was in my own world because I somehow didn’t notice that there were a million people at Whole Foods until I went to get in line.

When I first arrived at the check-out area, each of the three lines were four people deep. Not super long, but long enough that we had to turn our carts sideways to avoid blocking the aisles. It was then that I started noticing everyone in line – except me – had huge boxes of bottled water in their carts.

A woman got in line behind me. We both got bored waiting. We both went for the magazine rack and both reached for Dwell. So that opened a conversation. I noticed she didn’t have the massive box of water and asked her if we were missing something. She said everyone was stocking up for the hurricane and that, in fact, Whole Foods was sold out of peanut butter.

More people got in line. Almost all of them had boxes of water. One guy had like thirty individual bottles of Ozarka and six bottles of cranberry juice. I finally reached the conveyor belt. As I unloaded my cart, I held up my single bottle of water to my new friend behind me. “This is what I got for water.” We laughed.

I looked behind me. There were now twenty-four people in my line alone. Carts snaked backwards through the store waiting to buy groceries – and boxes of water.

I reached the check-out guy.

“Um, do you have any more of those boxes of water? I think I need one.”
“No,” he said, “you really don’t.”
“Yeah, but everyone else is getting them, so now I feel like I have to have one, too.”

The grocery bagger went and got me a box of water.

As I heaved six gallons of water + one single bottle of water, lettuce, and gluten-free breakfast bars into my trunk, I felt better.

Does anyone else feel like the world is coming to an end?

a banner week

2005-09-21T17:02:00.000-05:00

I’ve had a tremor in my left eye for almost a week now. Today the right eye joined in. As if the ground beneath me didn’t already feel as if it were going to give way at any moment, my body conspires to remind me.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to buy this. Soon.

2005-09-20T11:23:00.000-05:00