* It took seven hours to make what should be a four hour trip back to New York yesterday. Highlights included the driver stopping literally in the middle lane of the highway, cutting off three lanes of traffic, stopping at the side of the road and letting two people out - with no bags - who then just started walking down the shoulder of the highway with no discernible destination in sight.
This trip was finished off by a wet t-shirt contest featuring me, when I couldn't find a cab in the pouring rain for twenty minutes, as I tried to hail one in a white t-shirt. I'm hoping the onlookers appreciated it.
* The man who sits out in front of Duane Reade on 6th Avenue near my office usually shouts out obscene and offensive things to women who pass by such as "you're a whore and you should get a fucking job". I ignore him, as I do most people, and refuse to make eye contact.
Today however, he had changed his tune a bit and was yelling "Iiiiiiiiiiii'mm so poooooooooorrrr" over and over in some sort of mantra. I still ignored him. I'm poor, too.
* I recently received some news of a possibility that would bring 3/4 of my crew together long term. A move in the next several months is nearly imminent. This is exciting and just adds an extra spotlight on the fact that my decisions in the last couple of months have pretty much been nothing but good ones.
* I am in the market for an affordable, yet highly effective massage therapist because my knee is putting a serious damper on my training. It would probably be counterproductive to just go in myself and cut my IT band in half, to relieve the pressure. Happy ending not required.
* I had the most amazing escargot appetizer this weekend and I'm still thinking about it. Despite the escargot, which was basically marinating in melted butter, garlic and oregano, I have lost a full twenty pounds. Go me.
That's all....nothing more to see here...go back to your simple lives.
22 August, 2011
18 August, 2011
hackles
One of my favorite quotes is by Nelson Mandela. He says “before you can do things for other people, you have to be the kind of person who gets things done.” I read that at a young age and it has stuck with me since.
I am a doer. I am a person who gets things done. However that slipped for a while and I became a person who was treading water in my own life, while trying to help someone else who was decidedly NOT a doer. This is a dead end. If you try to give to a person like that, they will suck you dry. Literally, they will co-opt your energy and motivation and then bleed it out of you until you have nothing at all left for yourself or your own life and needs. It’s a slow burn, kind of like the frog in the pot of boiling water. By the time it’s too hot to stand, it’s too late to jump out.
I managed to jump out of that pot and am running – literally – as far away as humanly possible from the vacuous existence that is an unappreciative, unmotivated, soul sucker. They are sneaky that kind, and I have now learned how to spot and avoid the bullshit and the talking. Have you ever noticed how many people in the world are legitimately full of shit? It’s mind-blowing. I no longer trust a damn thing anyone tells me because once you’re lied to for years from the inside and exploited in a negative and destructive way, you get your hackles up.
Hackles up.
Once you get away from the mess of prolonged interaction with a leech though, it's really flabbergasting how much you actually have left for yourself, despite the fact that you may not know what to do with yourself at first. I'm still uncovering new things and new opportunities. Seems to be endless, the amount of things I can now do and what is surprisingly not endless is the overall feeling of anger. I think now, it's more a humorous disgust and a "what the fuck was I thinking" sort of thing.
And yes, I loathe the person who stole from me, but you know, what goes around comes back around, so I don't feel that bad.
17 August, 2011
preface....
I work in a typical Midtown office. With a telescope or a good pair of binoculars, I could peer into thousands of other offices just like mine jutting up from the streets around Central Park South. There is a cast of thirty to forty some-odd characters in my office, which occupies one and a half floors of my thirty three story building. Ninety four percent of them suck ass.
There is a ‘type’ in finance. There is a type in any industry, but while I have met many, many individuals who work in finance and are not ‘the type’, I now work predominantly in a ‘type’ type place. It fucking sucks. I’ll get to the suckiness later, but I feel I need to address the definition of ‘type’ in this instance.
Finance people are the go-getters of the world. They are not the only go-getters mind you, but whether or not you intended to work in finance, once you walk in the door, shit is expected of you. You need to be there, at the top of your game, performing. If you don’t perform, you’re gone. You do whatever it is that you want with your free time, but when you show up on Monday morning, you are expected to perform. Went out way too late and drank too much? TFB. You had better be at your desk and getting shit done. The frequent trips to throw up in the bathroom will be ignored (except for the ribbings and the pekid dog emails), because your ass was in your seat on time.
It is, for the most part, a strict meritocracy as far as talent and production go, and the rewards for performance are large and quite tangible. Add to that, the environment you are in happens to be where people make money. A lot of it. So making money and securing your spot on the escalator of life, investing well and wisely and continuously going for more is pretty much a given. Spending that well-invested and hard earned money is also noted and is almost treated like a pissing contest with who can go to more exotic locations, who drinks the more expensive health craze juice, who wears Louboutin’s more days of the week and who has the more enviable summer home location. And they are keeping score….the type, that is.
Mind you, there are droves of finance professionals who do the normal day of long hours and short lunches and then go about their business in a fairly inconspicuous manner. Those who make a lot of money, but don’t make a big show of spending it lavishly or stupidly, and who don’t treat others - such as those who make less or those from whom they procure goods and services - as if they are the help. But the type….ah, they are some seriously annoying fuckers, let me tell you.
The type come from all different backgrounds in life, meaning the type is not restricted to those from a particular ethnic, religious, or previous socioeconomic background. The type are a creation of the insular world of current and former nerds who made the right moves one way or another and came out on the back of the cash cow. They are kinda skinny for the most part, mostly unathletic, laugh at their own (questionably funny) jokes and whether overtly or covertly, they look down their nose at the rest of the world and are unimpressed by anything. Their former days of un-coolness have made them haughty and pissy and chafingly irritating. They are also looking for anyone else who can possibly do things for them. Anything things. Ie: I need a piece of paper printed out. So rather than hit the quick-print button at the top of the document that I have open, which would then deliver said document to the printer directly behind my chair, I will write you an email and attach the doc and ask you to print it out and then walk over to my desk – interrupting whatever you were doing at the moment – to hand it to me. Or, I will stand 5 feet away from the kitchen and email you from my blackberry to ask for a cup of coffee, even though you are on the complete opposite side of the floor, doing actual work.
Shit like this happens every. single. day. There was a time when I did not deal with these sorts of requests. A time - not long ago - when I was involved in the minutia of firm business and contributed to many different areas of operations. However, due to a catastrophic error I made in taking a risk on an unstable situation, I voluntarily ended my employment at said firm and was out of work for way too long until a ray of light shined on me when I came into my very well-respected firm under the auspice of continuing on the path that I had forged at my previous firm.
Little did I know I was plunging into a pool of ‘types’ and effectively entered an existence where I deal with a seemingly insurmountable amount of ancillary bullshit. I am getting dumber by the day. I get paid more than I did at the first place too, which somehow makes it just a little more weird for me.
So that’s the setup. These are the types I work and deal with everyday now and as this is the lot, the best course of action is, of course, to clandestinely rip it all to shreds for sake of amusement and my sanity. More to come…..
There is a ‘type’ in finance. There is a type in any industry, but while I have met many, many individuals who work in finance and are not ‘the type’, I now work predominantly in a ‘type’ type place. It fucking sucks. I’ll get to the suckiness later, but I feel I need to address the definition of ‘type’ in this instance.
Finance people are the go-getters of the world. They are not the only go-getters mind you, but whether or not you intended to work in finance, once you walk in the door, shit is expected of you. You need to be there, at the top of your game, performing. If you don’t perform, you’re gone. You do whatever it is that you want with your free time, but when you show up on Monday morning, you are expected to perform. Went out way too late and drank too much? TFB. You had better be at your desk and getting shit done. The frequent trips to throw up in the bathroom will be ignored (except for the ribbings and the pekid dog emails), because your ass was in your seat on time.
It is, for the most part, a strict meritocracy as far as talent and production go, and the rewards for performance are large and quite tangible. Add to that, the environment you are in happens to be where people make money. A lot of it. So making money and securing your spot on the escalator of life, investing well and wisely and continuously going for more is pretty much a given. Spending that well-invested and hard earned money is also noted and is almost treated like a pissing contest with who can go to more exotic locations, who drinks the more expensive health craze juice, who wears Louboutin’s more days of the week and who has the more enviable summer home location. And they are keeping score….the type, that is.
Mind you, there are droves of finance professionals who do the normal day of long hours and short lunches and then go about their business in a fairly inconspicuous manner. Those who make a lot of money, but don’t make a big show of spending it lavishly or stupidly, and who don’t treat others - such as those who make less or those from whom they procure goods and services - as if they are the help. But the type….ah, they are some seriously annoying fuckers, let me tell you.
The type come from all different backgrounds in life, meaning the type is not restricted to those from a particular ethnic, religious, or previous socioeconomic background. The type are a creation of the insular world of current and former nerds who made the right moves one way or another and came out on the back of the cash cow. They are kinda skinny for the most part, mostly unathletic, laugh at their own (questionably funny) jokes and whether overtly or covertly, they look down their nose at the rest of the world and are unimpressed by anything. Their former days of un-coolness have made them haughty and pissy and chafingly irritating. They are also looking for anyone else who can possibly do things for them. Anything things. Ie: I need a piece of paper printed out. So rather than hit the quick-print button at the top of the document that I have open, which would then deliver said document to the printer directly behind my chair, I will write you an email and attach the doc and ask you to print it out and then walk over to my desk – interrupting whatever you were doing at the moment – to hand it to me. Or, I will stand 5 feet away from the kitchen and email you from my blackberry to ask for a cup of coffee, even though you are on the complete opposite side of the floor, doing actual work.
Shit like this happens every. single. day. There was a time when I did not deal with these sorts of requests. A time - not long ago - when I was involved in the minutia of firm business and contributed to many different areas of operations. However, due to a catastrophic error I made in taking a risk on an unstable situation, I voluntarily ended my employment at said firm and was out of work for way too long until a ray of light shined on me when I came into my very well-respected firm under the auspice of continuing on the path that I had forged at my previous firm.
Little did I know I was plunging into a pool of ‘types’ and effectively entered an existence where I deal with a seemingly insurmountable amount of ancillary bullshit. I am getting dumber by the day. I get paid more than I did at the first place too, which somehow makes it just a little more weird for me.
So that’s the setup. These are the types I work and deal with everyday now and as this is the lot, the best course of action is, of course, to clandestinely rip it all to shreds for sake of amusement and my sanity. More to come…..
16 August, 2011
O really?
So cannot wait for the time when I am so worn out by training that my body literally has no other option but to sleep. But at least I have good thoughts racing right now.
I am 15 pounds lighter in weight, a million pounds lighter in outlook, and it's only just started to return to that. Unbelievable.
And I'm winning the bet. Life is a motherfucker, in both ways.
Also, I saw Mickey Mouse - the Fantasia version, walking down the street with a backpack on, smoking a cigarette. I didnt know you could hotbox a Disney character.
I am 15 pounds lighter in weight, a million pounds lighter in outlook, and it's only just started to return to that. Unbelievable.
And I'm winning the bet. Life is a motherfucker, in both ways.
Also, I saw Mickey Mouse - the Fantasia version, walking down the street with a backpack on, smoking a cigarette. I didnt know you could hotbox a Disney character.
15 August, 2011
in review....
I decided I’ll do a little marathon training recap for anyone who cares to read, but also to have the summary to look back on as I adjust my training. I’ve trained for a marathon before, but that was many, many years ago and then I couldn’t afford the trip to get myself to it (it is in Jamaica and I’m still going to do it someday), so I never actually completed the training. Anyway, the point is that the coolest thing about this is that it is a new venture. And that I have a lot to accomplish in an uncomfortably short period of time.
So this week was sort of a prep week, since it was my first week of training. The long run was only 6 miles and it sucked, so I am hoping that my runs this week will prepare me a little better for an 8 miler on Saturday. I haven’t exactly figured out the days I want to train yet, because while part of me loves having an entire day (ie: Sunday) to just be off work and play and everything, having a day off on Tuesday or Wednesday may be more efficient in terms of just being tired mid-week, which usually happens. Maybe making Monday my long day is the answer, which would be fitting because Monday was always long steady state when I was training for other sports.
And there you have it. Nonsense and the knowledge that last week’s training culminated in a shitty 10k. No worries though, I am on the up and up and now that I’m starting to feel my legs again, my mojo ain’t far behind.
O yeah and happy fucking Monday.
12 August, 2011
squeak
My knee is tight and it's annoying.
I know it's my IT or iliotibial band that is pulling from my hips and tugging at my knee and I know it's doing this because I decided - with three months to train from scratch - to run a marathon. I do this sort of thing so I can unstick myself from things that hold me back, or try to anyway. I take on a huge challenge that may require bites bigger than I'm comfortable with, because for some reason I like being scared shitless of what I'm undertaking and then conquering. That feeling of fear and the possibility of failure is a little bit addicting, I think. But I'm nuts like that, so there's that.
Unsticking one thing affects everything though, and it's pretty amazing how other areas of your life and even the lives of your friends start to change when a flow resumes and there is no more albatross around your neck. And conversely, sometimes a change in someone else's life will kick a cog in your wheels just enough to squeak it forward and show you that change is around the corner for you, too. And once the wheels start turning again, look out.
It's so curious how much better one can feel in such a short period of time. The air changes and suddenly it's a little more interesting to breathe; like you're taking it into your lungs, but there's more oxygen in the air, which makes you a little heady. Kind of like how it feels when you meet someone who sort of blows you away, but multiplied for several areas of your life. The most exhilarating of the natural highs.
And all it takes is throwing yourself headlong into something where you could fail....but you wont, because failing after you jump in headfirst is even scarier than jumping in head first.
I know it's my IT or iliotibial band that is pulling from my hips and tugging at my knee and I know it's doing this because I decided - with three months to train from scratch - to run a marathon. I do this sort of thing so I can unstick myself from things that hold me back, or try to anyway. I take on a huge challenge that may require bites bigger than I'm comfortable with, because for some reason I like being scared shitless of what I'm undertaking and then conquering. That feeling of fear and the possibility of failure is a little bit addicting, I think. But I'm nuts like that, so there's that.
Unsticking one thing affects everything though, and it's pretty amazing how other areas of your life and even the lives of your friends start to change when a flow resumes and there is no more albatross around your neck. And conversely, sometimes a change in someone else's life will kick a cog in your wheels just enough to squeak it forward and show you that change is around the corner for you, too. And once the wheels start turning again, look out.
It's so curious how much better one can feel in such a short period of time. The air changes and suddenly it's a little more interesting to breathe; like you're taking it into your lungs, but there's more oxygen in the air, which makes you a little heady. Kind of like how it feels when you meet someone who sort of blows you away, but multiplied for several areas of your life. The most exhilarating of the natural highs.
And all it takes is throwing yourself headlong into something where you could fail....but you wont, because failing after you jump in headfirst is even scarier than jumping in head first.
09 August, 2011
marathoner
I'm going big. In order to shed all of the physical and mental weight that has been anchoring me down the last few years, I decided to run the NY Marathon, support a very worthy cause, and get my life back, while honoring the lives of those who battle cancer and win, or lose, with such dignity.
DONATE HERE to help me reach a fundraising goal of $5,000 by October 19th. That's a lot of money in a short period of time, but I can do it with your help.
DONATE HERE to help me reach a fundraising goal of $5,000 by October 19th. That's a lot of money in a short period of time, but I can do it with your help.
28 July, 2011
reju
So much going on lately. The government cannot agree on whether the sky is blue, azure, or cerulean to save its life or the country's global credit rating, it's humid enough that I've noticed people growing gills so they can breathe and I have entered into a bet that is forcing me to stick with and push through the soreness of shrugging off a lead blanket of stress and sadness. Full plate, I say!
I'm feeling lighter though, generally and I think the ascent is worth chronicling, because everyone loves a phoenix from the ashes story. Plus it's cathartic and no one reads this anyway. Right then. I think the greater point here has something to do with dealing with reality and knowing that what you may want, is not necessarily what is best for you. I have never been afraid of change, but in recent years, I have been increasingly reluctant to make positive changes because I was a little beat down by the scourge of physical injury, wanting to be there for other people who then took advantage of me, and a general loss of perspective. I have carried myself for most of my life as if none of that could happen to me, what with my invincibility and all. Turns out, it can happen to anyone. What matters is how you get out from under it all and how you pick up the pieces and carry on.
I chose to make a pretty aggressive bet with a pretty aggressive person. I will not lose anything except for bodyweight and bad feelings however, so with my spoils I intend to buy myself something fancy. It's amazing. I'm down about ten pounds in the last two weeks and I truly think that getting out from under the weight of the things that were keeping me depressed, calling myself chicken and publicizing my goals to people who will give me shit if I don't reach them are three of the best things I have done for myself lately.
And it all starts with the mirror. You don't like what's in it, or what is going on behind your own eyes when you look at them.....make a change. One foot in front of the other, even if one of those feet is sore, numb and looks like shit.
Don't worry, my posts won't all be like this....this is just a good starting point.
I'm feeling lighter though, generally and I think the ascent is worth chronicling, because everyone loves a phoenix from the ashes story. Plus it's cathartic and no one reads this anyway. Right then. I think the greater point here has something to do with dealing with reality and knowing that what you may want, is not necessarily what is best for you. I have never been afraid of change, but in recent years, I have been increasingly reluctant to make positive changes because I was a little beat down by the scourge of physical injury, wanting to be there for other people who then took advantage of me, and a general loss of perspective. I have carried myself for most of my life as if none of that could happen to me, what with my invincibility and all. Turns out, it can happen to anyone. What matters is how you get out from under it all and how you pick up the pieces and carry on.
I chose to make a pretty aggressive bet with a pretty aggressive person. I will not lose anything except for bodyweight and bad feelings however, so with my spoils I intend to buy myself something fancy. It's amazing. I'm down about ten pounds in the last two weeks and I truly think that getting out from under the weight of the things that were keeping me depressed, calling myself chicken and publicizing my goals to people who will give me shit if I don't reach them are three of the best things I have done for myself lately.
And it all starts with the mirror. You don't like what's in it, or what is going on behind your own eyes when you look at them.....make a change. One foot in front of the other, even if one of those feet is sore, numb and looks like shit.
Don't worry, my posts won't all be like this....this is just a good starting point.
03 May, 2011
filter
I was sitting on my stoop on a lovely evening, listening to music. I had just gotten off the phone and thought I might just stay out a bit longer and enjoy the breeze in relative peace, when a cute, little, twenty-something blonde walked up and asked me if I had a light. I told her no and then without taking a step away, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter, herself. Magical. I waited for her to walk away.
She did not walk away however, but stood uncomfortably close to me and started asking me questions. Do I live in the building? Well yes, yes I do. Does she live in the building? Well she used to but now she’s moving out to go to 49th and 9th. How nice for her. What do I do for work, she continues. I work in finance. With a bunch of men? Well yes, there are a bunch of men in finance. What kind of firm? Is it just a couple of guys ‘doing whatever’ and yelling at me to go get their coffee? Aren’t all of the women who work for hedge funds total bitches?
Important to note here, that I am a woman who works for a hedge fund. Also important to note, is the fact that I am not a bitch and do not work for a couple of guys who do whatever and yell at me to get their coffee. She was completely and happily oblivious to how offensive she was starting to become. As she went on sucking the air out of my dance area, she tried to light her cigarette.
Click went the lighter and I watched her cheeks cave in as she took the first drag. O no, wait…there was no first drag.
“I must have packed these really well”, she says.
I noticed she was lighting the filter and attempted to draw this to her attention. She ignored me and began a second attempt at igniting her nicotine filled implement. “You’re lighting the filter”, I said again. “Wow, I really packed these tight!” she replied, ignoring my advice that she turn it around and light the correct end. As she went in for the third attempt – without bothering to step back even an inch from her encroaching position – I became more forceful in telling her that she was, in fact, lighting the wrong end of the cigarette while simultaneously running over with stupid, uninformed comments.
By the time she listened to me, she had tobacco in her teeth from all of the fake inhaling. She threw the cancer stick on the ground and proceeded to get another and then began the same routine again.
“I would never, ever want to work for a hedge fund with a bunch of guys and bitchy girls.”
I retorted that she had obviously made some extremely wise career decisions. Turns out she’s a pharmaceutical rep. The kind that was most likely a cheerleader in high school and who was recruited to look cute and perky, show a lot of skin, flirt with drab, wrinkled, bespectacled doctors and whose main instruction is to try not to fuck things up too much.
At this point, I was more amused than annoyed as she maintained that she “wasn’t that drunk, for real” and continued her idiotic criticism of a world she knows nothing about. However the wind was stolen from my sails as she interrupted herself in mid-sentence and trotted off to tell a girl who had just walked out of the building that she loooooooved her. Good talk.
24 March, 2011
And then
Nothing like being awake for days on end....while listening to someone speak a random foreign language at high volume.
Im searching for motivation in a pool of shit. Its lining up for me to step forward and I'm so fucking shot that I cant even stick my foot out to take the step. How to proceed, how to proceed. It's a truly strange sensation to have no idea how things are going to go in any area of my life, at this age. I guess the anxiety, the lack of sleep, lack of exercise and disappearance of any discernable drive at work are a waste of time, but the quandary seems to be how to get out of a six foot hole with no ladder?
Bootstraps, baby, 'cause no one else is losing sleep over your trials. Its every man for himself in this bitch, so either sink or swim...your choice. No one's looking out for your ass, so figure it out comme toujours. Et vous pret? Partez.
Im searching for motivation in a pool of shit. Its lining up for me to step forward and I'm so fucking shot that I cant even stick my foot out to take the step. How to proceed, how to proceed. It's a truly strange sensation to have no idea how things are going to go in any area of my life, at this age. I guess the anxiety, the lack of sleep, lack of exercise and disappearance of any discernable drive at work are a waste of time, but the quandary seems to be how to get out of a six foot hole with no ladder?
Bootstraps, baby, 'cause no one else is losing sleep over your trials. Its every man for himself in this bitch, so either sink or swim...your choice. No one's looking out for your ass, so figure it out comme toujours. Et vous pret? Partez.
03 March, 2011
today's lesson
Today's lesson, which really should have been learned about four years ago is, when someone tells you they are an asshole, take their word for it and head for the hills. Otherwise, you will find yourself having wasted an incredible amount of time trying to prove that statement false, and the asshole will carry on being assholey for the tenure of your interaction.
People will tell you who they are. All you have to do is listen.
People will tell you who they are. All you have to do is listen.
18 January, 2011
beat
tonight for the first time in a long time, i sat and listened to music. all night. i used to do that all the time. i used to have a better rhythm. i guess it's time to get music back in and see if that's the missing ingredient.
i need a beat.
things i remember about the things that lit me up for most of my life.....
music. singing. dancing. a lot. playing it, listening to it, watching it, singing it, creating it. music was all around me at all times. rarely a day went by without it. it was an outlet, a way to go somewhere else, a way to channel, a way to express, a way to feel.
i'm going for more things this year than in a long time, so i need to get the groove and learn how to move my feet again. i used to be good. i will be again.
i need a beat.
things i remember about the things that lit me up for most of my life.....
music. singing. dancing. a lot. playing it, listening to it, watching it, singing it, creating it. music was all around me at all times. rarely a day went by without it. it was an outlet, a way to go somewhere else, a way to channel, a way to express, a way to feel.
i'm going for more things this year than in a long time, so i need to get the groove and learn how to move my feet again. i used to be good. i will be again.
10 January, 2011
to sarah
Sarah Palin:
I feel you should shut your trap, maybe go to school or travel the world and learn something about anything other than rifles, and maybe focus on parenting your children, who are careening off the "good republican" path at a record pace, lest there end up a gun sight on someone's map over your name. You are exceedingly reckless, uninformed and drunk on the sound of your own voice.
While I don't condone violence of any kind, it would not shock me to know that in your fostering of violence and outrage, that the sight ended up pointed back toward you.
You're a moron, shut up.
thank you.
01 January, 2011
hny
Happy New Years, fuckers.
turns out this is the year that gives right from the get. i'm stoked. there will be no wasting of time this year. the moratorium on bullshit and useless, wasted energy is in effect and the necessary persons or person is on notice.
man does it feel good to be alive right now. to know the worst is behind you, the best is ahead of you, and the end of a fucked up, shitty situation is as predictable as it is hilarious.
this year.....decade....are so mine.
turns out this is the year that gives right from the get. i'm stoked. there will be no wasting of time this year. the moratorium on bullshit and useless, wasted energy is in effect and the necessary persons or person is on notice.
man does it feel good to be alive right now. to know the worst is behind you, the best is ahead of you, and the end of a fucked up, shitty situation is as predictable as it is hilarious.
this year.....decade....are so mine.
24 November, 2010
holiday
I am seeing all over the social networks, texts, emails, etc, how thankful everyone is for their lives and how this time of year they can't help but be reminded of all of the wonderful things and people for which they are grateful.
During this time of year, I can't help but remember why I hate the holidays.
I don't care if this makes me a curmudgeon. The holidays can suck it.
During this time of year, I can't help but remember why I hate the holidays.
I don't care if this makes me a curmudgeon. The holidays can suck it.
17 November, 2010
09 November, 2010
....made simple
First, I'm not surprised that the message didn't make it to the intended recipient of my post a couple back. I still however, do not understand it.Anywho....I just made the acquaintance of this man:
You may know him as John Basedow, fitness celebrity. This is the crowning achievement in my jobless career, to date. And by the way, it's all true.....he seems to defy age. There is absolutely no way to inspect this man and guess his true years on this earth. He is, as they say, an ageless enigma.
03 November, 2010
for Andy
Andy Irons was an amazing and graceful surfer who died yesterday. I love the tradition of surfers going out past the break with a lei and honoring their fellow watermen.
Andy, you were a badass surfer and you will be missed.
19 October, 2010
read (read red)
I don't have many readers for this blog. I don't really care about that, either.
There are a select few people who know this is in existence - despite its being searchable, but nevertheless, my enormous vocabulary and irresistible wit have drawn a few readers along the way.....one of whom I don't necessarily understand or want in my vast fan base.
Now the funny thing here is, the person to whom I refer, shows up on my stats with startling regularity. Sometimes three or four times in a single day. Why? We don't speak, nor do I have the desire to, and it skeeves me out every time I see the path name. So why, I wonder, does said person still check in several times a week, to see what I've written?
Perhaps this is the occupational hazard of the burgeoning author. I don't know, I've never penned anything of significance to anyone. I suppose that along the way in an author's life - or any person putting something out for general consumption, there will be people with whom your path has crossed at some point, who found your platform either by invitation, resourcefulness, or chance, and from whose eyes your words cannot escape. 'Cause once it's out there, it's like a fart in the wind. Gone. You can never really keep people from feeling like they know you, or trying to maintain some sort of loose tether to your life.
The saddest part about this is, there is probably someone for whom this is not intended, who will take it personally, by mistake. The actual message however, despite the number of times the blog is checked, today, tomorrow, or next week, will probably not get through for various reasons.
Either way, welcome to the discomfort of abject popularity and rising stardom.
O man, that just cracked me up.
There are a select few people who know this is in existence - despite its being searchable, but nevertheless, my enormous vocabulary and irresistible wit have drawn a few readers along the way.....one of whom I don't necessarily understand or want in my vast fan base.
Now the funny thing here is, the person to whom I refer, shows up on my stats with startling regularity. Sometimes three or four times in a single day. Why? We don't speak, nor do I have the desire to, and it skeeves me out every time I see the path name. So why, I wonder, does said person still check in several times a week, to see what I've written?
Perhaps this is the occupational hazard of the burgeoning author. I don't know, I've never penned anything of significance to anyone. I suppose that along the way in an author's life - or any person putting something out for general consumption, there will be people with whom your path has crossed at some point, who found your platform either by invitation, resourcefulness, or chance, and from whose eyes your words cannot escape. 'Cause once it's out there, it's like a fart in the wind. Gone. You can never really keep people from feeling like they know you, or trying to maintain some sort of loose tether to your life.
The saddest part about this is, there is probably someone for whom this is not intended, who will take it personally, by mistake. The actual message however, despite the number of times the blog is checked, today, tomorrow, or next week, will probably not get through for various reasons.
Either way, welcome to the discomfort of abject popularity and rising stardom.
O man, that just cracked me up.
13 October, 2010
eat, ate, ought
I just returned from London. It was my first trip to the UK, as when I resided in Europe, I always chose to take myself south, to warmer climes, than up to the rain and dreariness that England is known for. Of course this trip was scheduled for October....a month notorious for its sunshine and gentle, embracing breezes.
No matter though. I vini'd, I vidi'd, I vici'd. One thing struck me as insanely curious however. I thought this sort of phenomenon was indigenous to the red states of middle America, but I was stunned to learn, that even though the Brits have a reputation for bad food, the problem is far, far worse than I had originally estimated.
As I have come to understand, the whole of England is fed primarily from two staple ingredients: mayonnaise and bacon. Sometimes together. I cringe even thinking of the food I saw there. Mind you, I did have a few very good meals during my time abroad, however they were meticulously selected from a menu that had been sifted through slowly and carefully. Otherwise, I pretty much just didn't eat. You want a breakfast sandwich? Bacon or Bacon, miss? Lunch? How about a large vat of mayonnaise with some scarcely identifiable bits of "other things" (laced with bacon) in it on a "flaky", butter-soaked roll of some sort? Dinner? Well we've got a nice big pork sausage wrapped in bacon and served with some mayo on the side, with a side of coleslaw topped with bacon bits. Mmmmmmm.
I seriously think this must have been why the whole 'models not eating' thing started with Kate Moss (who is British). She didn't eat because she couldn't, lest she wind up looking like a portly, red-faced tube worker. Adds a whole new spin to how that whole problem started. Between the beer, the mayo and the bacon, the slightest frame could pack on fifteen pounds in a week! No good.
I'm considering changing course completely and moving to London to open up something like a Mexican restaurant. Or maybe just a catch-all kind of place, but with prominent placement of a "no bacon, no mayo, no problem" sign. Yum.
No matter though. I vini'd, I vidi'd, I vici'd. One thing struck me as insanely curious however. I thought this sort of phenomenon was indigenous to the red states of middle America, but I was stunned to learn, that even though the Brits have a reputation for bad food, the problem is far, far worse than I had originally estimated.
As I have come to understand, the whole of England is fed primarily from two staple ingredients: mayonnaise and bacon. Sometimes together. I cringe even thinking of the food I saw there. Mind you, I did have a few very good meals during my time abroad, however they were meticulously selected from a menu that had been sifted through slowly and carefully. Otherwise, I pretty much just didn't eat. You want a breakfast sandwich? Bacon or Bacon, miss? Lunch? How about a large vat of mayonnaise with some scarcely identifiable bits of "other things" (laced with bacon) in it on a "flaky", butter-soaked roll of some sort? Dinner? Well we've got a nice big pork sausage wrapped in bacon and served with some mayo on the side, with a side of coleslaw topped with bacon bits. Mmmmmmm.
I seriously think this must have been why the whole 'models not eating' thing started with Kate Moss (who is British). She didn't eat because she couldn't, lest she wind up looking like a portly, red-faced tube worker. Adds a whole new spin to how that whole problem started. Between the beer, the mayo and the bacon, the slightest frame could pack on fifteen pounds in a week! No good.
I'm considering changing course completely and moving to London to open up something like a Mexican restaurant. Or maybe just a catch-all kind of place, but with prominent placement of a "no bacon, no mayo, no problem" sign. Yum.
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