Woes of the Traveler

It has now officially been seven hours since I arrived at SFO. My original flight was scheduled to depart at 10:55AM. After that flight was canceled, I was placed in the standby carousel. Round and round we go, from gate to gate, going this next flight is the one we'll finally get on.

I'm only going to LA. I could drive there in less time than it is taking me to fly there today. I've drained and recharged my cell phone twice. I've stood in line after line and somehow still managed to keep my "please" and "thank you" intact. I feel bad for the service workers who must endure the impatience and perhaps even some verbal abuse from the hundreds of people who have had their flights canceled today.

The airport is an alternate universe. You can sit in the same spot all day and hear five different languages spoken. There are no street fights or screaming matches. People typically don't randomly sit down in the seat right next to you and start breaking the ice with small talk. I feel much more connected to people when I'm at the airport. We don't speak much, but were all united by a common goal. We're all going somewhere. Being in transit isn't fun to me necessarily. I just like the people watching. If much rather be in my Hollywood hotel room than sitting in this damn airport. There's only one more flight to LA tonight after this one. Let's hope I don't find myself returning home tonight only to do it all over again tomorrow for a one-night excursion.

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the shaving cream trick

Lumpy’s fan in his car doesn’t work, so there’s an issue with the windows fogging in the rain. When I returned from Sac on Sunday, after supporting Dimples for his first marathon, it was really bad. I looked up a solution on my fancy phone and found a convincing testimonial about shaving cream. I walked down to Walgreen’s while Lumpy went to do some maintenance on the sound system at the club and purchased a travel size Foamy. I used the same gym t-shirt I’d been using to remove the condensation and put a small dog poo sized dollop in the middle. I was worried for a bit because it just felt like foam on a t-shirt. I rubbed it around on the shirt until the foam almost disappeared. When I wiped the windshield again, it was like magic. Best of all, it’s still working and that was almost a week ago! I’ve thought about it since then. It’s such a small thing, but what a huge difference! I thought, “I can see!” No wonder men who get married live so much longer than single men. Seriously, how dangerous is it to be driving around in a nighttime storm with severely limited visibility? I feared for my own life.




The past few weeks have been a blur. I was knocked down by the flu for over a week following a brief stint with a stomach virus… goddamn germs. I haven’t been sick like that since the chicken pox. The first few days of the full-blown flu (I’d been dancing around it for weeks) I found it difficult to just live. Breathing was so painful. My throat and sinuses were swollen and on fire. There were days when I couldn’t talk, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stay awake, couldn’t eat. It was truly miserable. Next year I’m getting a flu shot – the first I’ve ever had. I don’t ever want to go through that again.



I haven’t run in four weeks and haven’t ridden my bike in three. The endorphin withdrawals were overshadowed by my illness and I’m now a regular scrub again. Pathetic. Since I still struggle with the regular sore and scratchy throat, I’ve been taking it easy. This week since I’ve returned to work has been a series of ridiculously long workdays, leaving no time for me to get my moustache and armpits waxed, grocery shopping, a movie or even a happy hour beverage. I managed to play almost an hour of dance dance revolution on Tuesday. That was fun. I want to do it again. We’re out of meetings early today, so I’m going o attempt to have more ddr time. Perhaps I should try for a movie instead? I’ll play it by ear when I get home. It would be nice to cook dinner for a change. Thanks goodness we have no company events tonight. I love it here, but I’m exhausted.

moving on, out and forward

I am not a runner. I haven’t so much as looked at my running shoes in over two weeks. That may change with the end of daylight savings time, but I’m not going to hold my breath. I’m back in yoga now. I wouldn’t say I’m hardcore just yet, but getting there won’t be too difficult. I love yoga. I have a favorite instructor who teaches on Mondays and Fridays. If I can go to his two classes every week, I’ll automatically be propelled to hardcore-dom. His classes are just that challenging. I already have yoga tune-up every Wednesday, and last week I did the evening Vinyasa on Thursday. It felt great.




Friday I hung out with mom during the day and I had a date in the evening with the contestant formerly known as Option C. There’s no use referring to anyone as option A, B or C any longer because, as I stated before, this type of thing tends to work itself out in time… Tomorrow I am scheduled to meet with the contestant formerly known as Option A. He thinks it’s a regular date, which was my intention when I set it up, but he’s actually getting the boot. I don’t really feel bad because his heart was never in it to begin with. We both had that “I need something to do” quality to our communication. Once again, being hot means nothing in the long run (and the run wasn’t that long to be quite honest). We had some funny convos and some terrible awkward moments. He’s a nice guy. I wish him luck.



The new guy wants to take Salsa at the local ballrooms with me, has a very active and goofy sense of humor and enjoys a twirl on the dance floor to some soulful house music. What’s not to like? The partying we did together Friday night propelled him into the top spot. Our impromptu date the following night eliminated the competition. So there you have it. We’ll see where this goes. Mom wants to meet the guy. She’s in a hurry because she leaves for the Philippines tomorrow, but it’s still far too early in my opinion. I don’t date often, so I understand her excitement. The fact that he’s one of her countrymen is just fueling that fire.



Mom will be gone until Spring. This means that I’ll be living in her house until then. I move out of my apartment this weekend and over the weekend. I am NOT looking forward to any of that. I haven’t packed a single item. What a pain in the ass.

It's not you, it's me

I put on my running clothes on at 6am. I had my usual energy gel and glass of water. It gave me a stomach ache. This is how my life has been for the past two days due to a stomach bug. Needless to say, I didn't go. I changed back into my PJ's, sent my coworkers an email telling them I wouldn't be in today and popped a Family Guy DVD into the player.

I stayed home from work yesterday too. Surprisingly, I slept most of the day and through the night. I think I ate about 1000 calories. It has been difficult to eat more than a few bites at a time. I've resorted to thawing out meat to cook so I can make those few bites count as much as possible.

The nausea I suffered on Sunday was so terrible that I barely ate anything. I felt weak that morning, so I skipped my long run. I didn't know I was ill yet at that point. I had a prior commitment to a volunteer group in West Oakland, so I left the apartment to take care of that. Three hours of chills and stomach cramps later, I was back home (albeit without electricity for a few hours). I tossed and turned all night with stomach cramps. It was awful.

A couple of people at the office have recently complained about similar symptoms. I understand that they don't want to use their paid time off for sick days, but neither do I. It's not fair to everyone else when you go to work sick. I say that a lot, but no one's listening.

As for the dating scene, it's the same as it ever was. I'm fed up with the probationary period when everyone is on their best behavior. I'm tired of people not being themselves. I'm even more tired of people being intimidated by my directness. Seriously, how old are we? I don't feel like it's necessary for me to pretend to be well-mannered. I'm not. I laugh at mean things and make crude jokes. Although I know which fork to use at a fancy restaurant, I much prefer a rowdy neighborhood diner.

I could just be depressed from endorphin deprivation (oh man do I miss them), but I'm so over the bullshit. I think this is why I always end up with assholes. They're going to say what's on their minds whether you want to know or not... my kind of people.

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Done, and next?

I ran the first 8+ miles with one of my coworkers, whom I spotted in my pace group (12:00 – 13:59). We chatted a bit but were just silent in each other’s company for the majority of it. Once the course got hilly, she wanted me to go on and leave her to her own comfortable pace. I think it was clear that I needed to turn it up. We were averaging about 13 minutes a mile together. My last five miles (according to the tracking chip) were around 11.6 minutes each on average. I probably could’ve gone faster, but I didn’t want to be too tired at the end. I still had to ride the shuttle back to the start, BART back to my car and then drive home. Also, I hadn’t had a meal yet. I’m impressed with the knowledge that I can do all that on so few consumed calories. It really makes me think of how much food I eat unnecessarily. If only the act of eating wasn’t so sensual.


I have only run once this week, yesterday morning. I suppose that’s enough, but I do feel a bit lazy now. I skipped my usual hour of physical training yesterday to attend a meeting yesterday. I feel endorphin deprived. I had an hour of restorative yoga, so maybe that’ll be enough. If not, I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do. I may just have to deal with it.

I am keeping the running schedule with Wednesday as an optional running day, determined by how my joints feel after Tuesday’s run. I’m also keeping the distance on Sundays. I’d like to add a mile a month to build up to the full distance for Nike 2011. I’ve never done a full marathon, running, walking or any combination. I’ve hiked/backpacked 26 miles before, but it was spread out over three or four days. Speaking of which, I need to plan a backpacking trip; I’m WAY overdue. Legs wants to make it a bike-packing trip. Not sure how much I can get into that idea. I’d like to get as far from the roads as possible. I’ve got about three weeks of vacation time saved up, so maybe I can do both.



On the dating front I’ve come to the disturbing realization that this guy I’ve been pseudo-investigating for the past few months is very similar to me. We hung out last night, and he said many things that could’ve easily come out of my mouth. I was taken aback. We were awkward together at best. Hopefully that will relax soon. I’d like to find out more. If he’s anywhere near as screwy as I am, I may be biting off more than I can chew. I need a simple man - simple, not boring. He’s got his eye on me for signs of red flags too. I can feel it, and it’s funny. Supposedly he has a history of attracting crazy women. Now THAT is intriguing. Were they crazy before he met them or did they snap? Either way, not it! Hmmm.

I don’t want to downplay the other two dating game contestants. Both are hot. One of them is pretty to look at, and the other has a smokin’ body. I have been doing everything humanly possible to avoid physical contact with Mr. Smokin. It’s starting to be completely obvious. I’m not sure how long I can keep that up. There is definitely an awkward and uncomfortable conversation in the works between us. I’m all nerves about it. The tension is palpable. Mr. Pretty Teeth, on the other hand, has this air of calm and cool while still being a bit of a dork. It’s sweet. He has crossed the defensive boundary. We’ll see what he does with that privilege. He and I also share quite a few personality traits. Spending time with him feels very casual. That is hurting him as much as it’s helping him because of my experience with Secret Squirrel.

Call of the Wild

Contrary to what I already know about training and recovery, I went out to Era Art Bar for the Evolve party Friday night.  It is by far my favorite East Bay party.  It was a ball, as I expected it would be.  I have yet to go to that party and leave before the bar closes.  I intended to go with Legs and Twin Peaks, but they both bailed.  I got a flashback to my old night-prowling days.  At first I found it disturbing, but now I'm just amused.

I mentioned before that I've gone on a couple of dates recently.  Well, when it rains it pours.  Friday night, outside of Evolve, I finally got a moment alone with the man I've been crushing on for the past several months.  Get this, he's actually interested.  Then Killa B and B-Ry both show up - grreaaaaaat.  In my mind I thought, 'What the hell is going on here?'  But you know, never look a gift horse in the mouth.  Man, I love cliches.  Anyway, the evening came to an unusual climax when, while dancing on a practically empty floor to one of the last songs with this man that I've had my sights on for months, one of the regulars (who has never expressed anything other than friendship to me before) grabbed my wrist and spun me around to dance with him instead.  I wasn't sure how to react (mainly because I was a bit sauced), so instinct took over.  There was no way on Earth that I was going to let someone randomly step in and screw up the potential for my designs to come to fruition!  I leaned in and said, "Don't be jealous."  Then, I made my way back over to the object of my attention, not really caring who was watching or what anyone thought.  Even now, as far as I'm concerned, they can kiss my ass.  I never led anyone on.  There is just one man whom I've sought to become closer to.  The additional suitors are icing on the cake.  I blame pheromones.  Seriously, if I hadn't been on a couple of dates already, I'd still be in the friend zone.  Funny how that works.

I'm going to just be honest with everyone and try to be as nice as possible without being a sucker.  I don't see any need to make a choice because in these situations people tend to eliminate themselves naturally.

Oh and by the way, the drinking and staying out late Friday night made my run SUCK ASS on Sunday.  Twelve miles of misery, but I fucking did it.  I am ready for the Nike half next weekend.

wearing me down

Last Sunday I “ran” 11 miles from downtown Calistoga to the fire station bordering Calistoga and St. Helena and back. It felt really good. My knees have been a bit achy since then, and that experience hasn’t made my 3-mile morning runs any easier. Other than being able to say that I ran 11 miles, I don’t have much to show for it. I thought it would at the very least make me stronger in my morning runs. I don’t get it.


I’ve got ten more days til the Nike half. I am eager to get it behind me. I want to say I ran the whole thing and felt great afterwards. The goal is to do this without pain. I can struggle with my mind a bit, but I need to do this without injury or not at all.  So far so good.



I had a date last week. Yes, an actual date! Okay not a real date by Twin Peak’s standard, but I’m counting it. I have another one tomorrow – we’re bowling. At first I was really excited about it, but I’ve come to the realization that it’s not really that exciting. Normal people have lots of dates; I’m the only freak who hasn’t had any this year. Legs (f.k.a. OMB) asked me why not and I told him that, contrary to how much I flirt with men on a regular basis, I don’t really find many men attractive enough to pursue. Sure, there are some really hot guys out there and some who are even interested in me, but there has to be a spark. I don’t see a reason to date anyone without a t least a spark. I don’t date for practice. To me, that’s pointless. If you find someone you have good chemistry with, it’s okay to be a little awkward. I’d rather date a person who thinks I could be someone special as opposed to some guy just working the odds. I do realize that most men are the latter. It’s inevitable that I will have to run through a gauntlet of them before finding a match. The new guy, who hasn’t made enough of an impression to have a nickname yet, seems like a good match personality-wise. We like enough of the same things to have a good time out, but we have enough dissimilarity to run in different circles. I’m not looking for anything serious (although I would not completely opposed to the idea after an appropriate assessment period), but I would like some companionship… especially of the physical nature.



I’ve had a busy couple of weeks with one business or social commitment after the other. My fridge is full of leftovers that have been there so long that I won’t eat them. I haven’t eaten a meal at home in a week and a half. It’s getting on my damn nerves.



Well, I better go. Legs and I have a movie night on Wednesdays now. Come to think of it, we hang out a lot. I invited him to join me at the party on Friday too. Hmmm. Is he becoming a bestie?

Dancing in the Dark

The darkness of autumn mornings is making my training a challenge. I cannot bring myself to go out running alone more than a half hour prior to daybreak. I leave my apartment at 6:15, 15 minutes before first light, and return just before 7:00. That gives me just enough time to run to the lake, do the 3 mile loop, run back up to my place, stretch and have a recovery shake before I need to start getting ready for work. The distance I should be running is 5 miles, but there simply isn’t enough time in the morning for me to run that far before work… unless of course I can suddenly become twice as fast.


Speaking of becoming faster, I’ve started to incorporate some speed work. It happened by accident really. There was an older woman in front of me, who was just jogging slightly slower than me. I passed her and then got tired of hearing her footsteps behind me so I sped up. I thought she was going faster to keep up with me, but about a quarter mile later (after realizing that I was working far too hard to sustain that pace much longer) I looked back and realized it was a completely different person altogether. I chuckled a little to myself. I slowed and watched her pass, out of breath. Once I caught my breath, I wanted to try it again. This time, without the pressure of someone behind me, I felt free to just let it out and go twice as hard. It was great! I wasn’t sprinting, but my legs were happy and my body felt completely natural in the longer stride – save for the burning in my lungs. When I slowed after about a hundred meters, I found it very difficult to catch my breath again. I was afraid that I might have to walk to recover but mentally refused to let that happen. I probably could have finished the loop much faster if I’d taken that walk break, but I’m trying to build better cardiovascular fitness. Just like when I go out dancing and one of my favorite songs come on, I have to push through to the end of it no matter how much energy I blew in my initial frenzied excitement.

The Wildcat Canyon trail ride really helped to put things in perspective. My thighs burned so bad while climbing those hills that I think it may have increased my threshold for pain. I suffered so much that day. The fact that my companion barely broke a sweat was just irritating. After that experience I swore that I would incorporate hills into my daily commute, but I have yet to act on that thought. I’m considering hitting a hilly route home (more than just considering actually).

Today is day three of wearing the Five Finger shoe. Like many, Born to Run influenced me to give them a try. After noticing some runners wearing them as they whiz past me on my morning runs, I finally caved. I haven’t run in them yet because my toes are not very happy with them yet. My pinky toes are particularly upset with the shoes. The knuckles of those toes are very tender. The inside edges of my big toes are a bit sore as well. It’s weird to walk around with fabric between your toes all damn day. What is even stranger is that my toes are all developing a dislike for my regular shoes now. I might become one of those people who wear sandals all year long. Goddamn hippies.

the worlds keeps turning

Today was my second 6-mile morning run. It was very good. I improved my time by ten minutes, even including my stop at the grocery store for soymilk on the way back to my apartment. I was so shocked to read 7:11AM on the clock. I almost burst into song. I don’t think my neighbors would have appreciated it.


I made myself a recovery shake with some Clif Shot Vanilla Recovery powder, soymilk, ice cubes and a blender when I returned home. It was absolutely delicious! I also had that ‘this is exactly what my body wants right now’ feeling. There’s nothing quite like giving your body exactly what it needs. Although I have been running an average of an hour deficit in my sleep every night for the past week, I feel particularly strong today. It just occurred to me a little while ago that the recovery shake may have been the determining factor there. I’ve been told hundreds of times to consume protein within twenty minutes of a workout (up to an hour after the workout), especially one as taxing as this morning’s, but you know how it is – life gets in the way of us doing what we know is right. That doesn’t make it okay. I need to make sure that I take proper care of myself so I don’t get injured this time, like I did last year when I was training for the very same event. I think I hurt myself in 2006 while training for the Nike too. Annoying. It takes so stinkin’ long to recover from a knee or ankle injury that I don’t EVER want to go through that again. I’d gladly take an unscheduled rest day instead of hurting myself.

Speaking of unscheduled rest days, I had one yesterday. Stevil’s mom passed away on Sunday. Her body was discovered in her apartment on Monday, so Hula Girl and I went to go keep him company on Tuesday (after she got his text, which I hadn’t even realized existed until she was on her way to pick me up). He just needed some support. I am personally not very good at doing the whole emotional support thing. What I am good at is figuring out what needs to be done in stressful situations. Therefore, Tuesday was quite possibly the best day for me to be with him. Iris’ back window was busted out at the end of the night. I was lucky.

I had to bum a carpool ride to work the next morning since my bike was still at the office. When I got reayd to ride home yesterday, I discovered a tack in my front tire. I removed it, thinking that I could just replace the tube with the spare I keep in my bag. Well, I had emptied my bag in the Tuesday madness and forget to replace my bike supplies Wednesday morning. I had a nice unexpected walk to and from the train stations in the warm summer evening. I would have enjoyed it even more if it weren’t for me carrying the flat tire and a messenger bag full of groceries and then getting home a few minutes before 9PM. It’s difficult to rush yourself to sleep. I think I fell asleep around 11 – 11:30 and then was up before dawn at 5:30 AM for my morning run. I’m freakin’ exhausted.

One of the trainers fixed my flat after our company meeting this morning and another relocated my taillight so I can now store my toolkit under the seat. I said, “What would I do without all these helpful people?”

J-Racer commented, “It’s not you I would worry about.” We then went into a brief conversation about spoiled people. He said, “If you depend too much on other people to give you what you want, you’re setting yourself for the possibility of being disappointed.”

“You’re setting yourself up for inevitable disappointment.” I corrected him. It’s true. You are the only person you can truly count on, and we humans occasionally fail ourselves as well. It’s not a big deal. There’s no need to emotionally attach ourselves so strongly to any particular outcome. I’d rather spend my life enjoying it moment to moment than to be constantly pissed off about something that didn’t go my way or worried about what is going to happen in the future.

What I am emotionally attached to right at this moment is going home and getting in bed early, universe willing.

Feed the Hungry

I was hoping for some action in my love life before mom goes home to the Philippines to build her retirement home and I move back into the old house here.  When that happens, I probably won't have any energy for dating during the first month or so (maybe longer).  My bike commute mileage will more than double to 17 miles each way and I'll have a bunch of home improvement projects to complete before the place is presentable for entertaining.  

If anything exciting were to happen, I am not even certain who it would be with.  I'm not in the mood to play the game with anyone lately because of the training. I just added the 2nd lap to my 3x weekly morning runs, bringing it to just over 6 miles. Unfortunately it slowed my average speed down to 13 minutes per mile, but I'll get faster over the next few weeks. The post-run upset stomach has returned, but that should clear up soon too... I hope.

I'm now entering my eighth month of abstinence and I am truly OVER IT. My body is sending out all these signals, but I have no idea where to direct them. I'd like to suppress the desires and control the physical cues, which is normally relatively easy for me to do.  Lately, though, I feel like there's  a "Vacancy" sign on my forehead.  I've been receiving some brazen propositions.   Some of them from the past weekend's party were rather uncouth.  Upon waking the next morning, I recounted the previous evening's occurrences in my head and laughed out loud.  I am convinced that there must be something I am doing differently. I have yet to determine whether I can use this to my advantage or if I'm just a passenger on this ride.

The temporary suspension of partying looms closely before me. I won't be able to stay up late anymore after another week or so of this training. Even now my eyes are burning and eyelids heavy at just 10:30 PM. In the morning I must get out of the house before dawn to do my new longer run and still get to work at a reasonable hour. Oh yeah, and my bike tire had a flat so I left the frame at work. I've got to find some other non-car method of getting to the office tomorrow...

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I can totally do this

The problem with having really hot friends of the opposite sex is that it can get really difficult to avoid objectifying them. I had a conversation with one of the hot men in my life last night during our Monday evening ride. This is racing season, so he’s really lean and cut. I had to keep reminding myself to look at his wheel and not his ass when I drafted behind him on our return trip. I wouldn’t say that this is necessarily a complaint. I’m just admitting that I am human and just as influenced by flesh as the next person. I didn’t really think much about whether or not he does the same thing in his head when our positions are reversed; I just brushed it off as part of the territory. It’s not quite like hanging with Killa B, who I occasionally remind that he’s got the nicest set of cheeks I’ve seen on a straight man in years. With OMB, I do my best to steer conversations out of that territory when they threaten to go gutter. He’s got a pretty serious GF. I had my chance to make something happen with him years ago, but decided that I’d rather be friends. I have never regretted that choice. He is a good friend. I can’t say that about any ex BF.


During our convo last night, he had what I like to call “race brain”. He has been consistently fatigued for so long that he’s starting to lose his mind. The condition is temporary and usually not dangerous. Outside of him needing to take a little bit more caution crossing the street, he should live to recover from it. He couldn’t hold much of a conversation. He couldn’t concentrate on any topic in particular. He took a while to figure out when I was poking fun at him. He almost got hit by a semi when he took his eyes off the road. Poor guy. At one point during the ride (right after the semi incident), I looked over at him and thought ‘you are so lucky that you’re hot.’ For the rest of our ride, I pretty much just looked after him as much as possible, nodded when he spoke and tried my best not to openly check him out.

We talked at length about training because we’re both on that page right now. I asked about how far we’d ridden, and he said that his odometer wasn’t working. “You suck.”

“Why don’t you get your own damn odometer?”

“I need an odometer like I need a scale.” One thing I have learned recently is that I should not measure things that are not important. I explained to him about how my OCD latches on to something and doesn’t let it go – like weight. Working at a fitness and health-oriented company, it is common for women to get obsessed with their weight. Also, I work with a whole mess of athletes. As someone who is not inclined toward athletic competition, it can be especially stressful. Many of the women here count every calorie they consume and track their workouts every day. I, on the other hand, lead a more intuitive lifestyle. I’m not a small woman, but my doctor isn’t concerned about my weight, my BMI is in a healthy range and I’m stronger and fitter than the average person walking on the street. I’m even stronger than some of the athletes I work with. Most importantly, I am happy with it. Well, I thought I was happy with it.

Once I started running again, it brought up feelings of inferiority. I want to have better stamina, go faster, play harder and have my skin pull taut over my muscles. The issue I am having is with the ridiculous amount of maintenance this requires. I like the idea of lazy Sundays, relaxing vacations and luxurious spa retreats. My idea of a fun time is not a 7 mile run uphill with sweat pouring down my face, my back and the crack of my ass. Well, that didn’t used to be my idea of a fun time. I am changing my perspective in this regard.

I still want to avoid becoming obsessed with my weight and focus intently on the training itself. OMB said that he could barely run two blocks without stopping. He is awesome on a bike though. Like anything else, it’s just conditioning. “The beginning is always hard.” I told him. “I’ve done it before, so I know I can do it. It’s all in my head. I just have to make up my mind to stick it out and it’ll get easier.”

This morning I got up at 6 to run the lake. This is a good time for me because the sky has some light in it but there aren’t very many people out there yet. When I went out at an earlier time last week, I felt afraid because I was alone and there were random men just wandering around in the dark. Every time my thoughts started going into self-defeat, I made a conscious decision to shut them up and just deal with it. Whining and complaining never helps anything. In my determination to just be in the moment instead of fighting myself, I actually had a breakthrough! It was my strongest run so far, and my upset stomach didn’t happen until I was already back home. Ideally I wouldn’t get an upset stomach at all, but that should get better as I get more conditioned to it. If I remember correctly, it takes a few weeks of relatively hard training to get past it. Then I rode my bike to work and I did about 2/3 of the workout in my Tuesday afternoon personal training hour. I mainly showed up to provide my counterparts with moral support. We did a bunch of push-ups, so it was beneficial. When I do hit the bed tonight (earlier than the usual 10PM), I will probably sleep solid for at least 8 hours. I’m going to try to give myself 9.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep. I’m aiming for falling asleep around 9ish. That probably means no TV.

To eat meat or not to eat meat, that is not the question.

I am not a vegetarian; I just have vegetarian tendencies.


Since my three weeks of vegetarian living (and the 3.5 days of vegan living sandwiched in the middle), I’ve been more in tune with my body. It probably has just as much to do with my age as my diet. The older you get, the more evident the effects of restful sleep, nutritious food and vigorous exercise can be (or the absence of any of these very important elements of maintaining a healthy body).

I have been looking at a photo of myself from the trip to Las Vegas with Alex last spring. I am so thin in that photo! My hair is also super short, but that’s neither here nor there. I tried to tell myself that I was so thin because I’d just returned from my month trekking through Thailand with all of my belongings strapped to my back. However I believe that trip was Memorial Day weekend, a full six months after I returned from Thailand. The extra insulation I’m sporting now is just plain old gluttony and laziness. It’s coming off, but I determined yesterday that it isn’t happening fast enough to satisfy me. I am having a difficult time staying focused on the training. I keep veering off into vain pursuits. I even went as far as to take up corseting again. It didn’t last, but mostly because the corsets I have are too big to cause any physical changes. I should be happy about that, but naturally I am not. I ‘m quite obsessed. I would like to embrace this obsession with reshaping my body, but that will only cause it to become so intense that it burns itself out before I get any results. I need to calm down and be patient. If I can bring myself back to the training, I will be fine. The goal is to run the half marathon, not to lose weight. It is for that very reason that I do not weigh myself. I’m not going to start counting calories either. I know when I need food and when I don’t. I’m trying to teach myself how to distinguish what type of food I need as well.

I haven’t felt very motivated to run. In fact I missed my long run on Sunday. I should mention that I was incredibly exhausted that day and trying my best to function on just a few hours of sleep. Even so, I still should have at least attempted the damn run. Now I’m beating myself up about it and will probably be so wracked with guilt on my run this evening that I end up having a crazy negative self-talk in my head the entire time. Oh OCD, go away!

So anyway, back to being 85% vegetarian. When you don’t eat meat, you don’t have to push. You know what I’m talking about. I know it’s gross, but it’s totally true. Your intestines are clean and lubricated. I still eat meat every two or three days to keep my muscles happy and my mood relatively stable, but I love feeling clean. I have always loved clean (duh OCD), but I never really thought much about being clean from the inside because I took it for granted that my body can process whatever I put in it. It can of course, but at a cost. My skin is clearer, brighter and has better elasticity than it has had in the past several years. My training recovery time is rarely longer than one full night’s sleep, and my energy is consistent throughout the day and night. I’d be curious to find out if my vision and/or hearing have improved.

I researched the Raw diet and determined that I have no desire to go there. The body is initially shocked by the amount of work it has to do to extract nutrients from raw food. It’s supposed to depend on the individual, but you can spend up to three weeks feeling tired and weak. Certain foods are more easily digestible after being cooked. For example, root vegetables - they are so full of wonderful nutrients, but the body has to work really hard to access those nutrients when the root vegetables are raw. Were I to “go raw”, it would look more like a fruit and veggie cleanse than a raw diet. Since I am allergic to seafood… There’s no damn way that I am going to zombify myself for three weeks with the sole purpose of experimenting with a damn diet.


This morning’s commute was spent thinking more and more about Thailand and the things I learned there. I don’t meditate anymore. I also don’t do yoga every morning anymore. It’s time that I readopted those practices.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

If it was something within my knowledge and power, I would create a pill you could swallow which would activate an auto-shut feature for your mouth after your blood alcohol level reaches a certain percentage. This pill would have to come in a few different formulations. There would be a 0.01 formula so you can’t ask for your keys back until you’re sober enough to drive again. There would be the 0.05 for those people who, like me, lose their appropriateness filter after three for four drinks. Then there would be some upper limit like 0.10, which would also include some sort of visible effect to let everyone else know that you’re wasted.


I took our visitor from Italy to the monthly 1st Saturday Underground House party. I knew I’d be tired, so I told him and Twin Peaks that we should get there early. It was the 3-Year Anniversary Celebration, and started a couple of hours earlier than usual, at midnight. We got there at 12:30. By 2:30 AM, the place was so packed that they started turning people away. I saw a couple of friends that I had hoped to introduce our visitor to, but they left to handle what I can only guess was some sort of shady transaction and were never allowed to reenter. Oh well.

My favorite local DJ, David Harness was in the building. I told him that my heart skipped a beat when I saw him on the line-up, which would have been perfect if I’d have stopped there. But no, the auto-shut feature would have come in handy right then. “I don’t normally feel that way for men I haven’t slept with”. WTF? Booze is the devil. That’s all I have to say about it.

In the middle of David’s set it got so hot in the joint that I had to take a break, a long one. I sat in the cocktail lounge and, even after I’d cooled down, I couldn’t stop sweating. Our visitor surfed through the crowd while I was there and told me, “There is a wrestler here. He is very famous. I want you to take a picture of me with him.” I waited for Twin Peaks to return from the bar and we headed over there. As soon as I passed through the hallway, I knew exactly who he was talking about. It was Batista (I looked up his name today with a coworker). He stood almost a full foot over every man near him and was at least twice the girth. Our visitor was barely larger than one of the guy’s arms. It turned out to be a great photo: Jack and the Giant LOL. I thanked him for taking a photo with my friend. I admit that it was a rather dry thanks, but this guy has to be sick and tired of being fawned over by everybody he meets. Seriously, he had come to the club to dance and have a good time, right? Let’s get the photo over with so everyone can go back to having fun. Besides, WWE wrestling is all fake soap opera fighting anyway. You wanna see me lose it? Introduce me to Jet Li. I’d probably forget my own name. I’d even stutter a bit if I met Rodney Yee.

We called it quits early that night – a little after 4AM. The crowd had thinned out by then. The dance floor looked a lot like it did at 1AM. I had run out of steam, intoxication and cash. I don’t think there is any better time to call it a night. I still had to take our visitor home to Berkeley as well.

I was gonna end it there with a little blurb about how my romantic life continues to be boring. However, that may not be entirely true. There was a tense moment around me on Friday, midway through the Red Bike and Green monthly ride.

Killa B and B-Ry have been having some sort of (not so) secret pissing contest where I’m concerned. I’m not sure what exactly has transpired between the two, but I often feel like I need to distance myself from both of them when we’re all in the same space. So my romantic life continues to be boring as far as I’m concerned, but there is some mysterious undercurrent at work, which I’m pretty sure has no effect on my future love life (or at least I hope not). Any interference on my part will probably just be interpreted as me showing preference, so I keep the status quo as much as possible and let these things work themselves out.

Controlling Myself

Pandora is screwing around with me today. Everything that plays is a poor excuse for music. Of course I could just be projecting. I’m filled with dissatisfaction. I thought that would change after my hour of personal training with “The Sage” and a half hour of massage late this afternoon. Perhaps tonight, after the Red Bike and Green Ride, Home Grown - Best of the East Bay Party and thePeople’s All Styles Afterparty I'll feel much better.


My dancing will be ambient. That’s how I’m feeling. I’ve been starving for sensual stimulation (all coming to a peak in the past couple of days it seems), and I’ll be telling that story with interpretive dance tonight. Needless to say, I’m rolling solo this evening. Yes, it’s that time. I’ve been running with a posse for several weeks now, and I need some freedom. In the safety of a group, one can only glimpse the mysterious underbelly of nightlife. Last weekend’s underground loft party left me itching to strike out on my own and delve into the depths. The room was filled with beautiful people, all tinted with the familiar tinge of mischief that I so enjoy. I felt confined. It’s not that my friends aren’t fun (and perhaps the best group of friends on this planet), but there are moments when I want to move among the shadows. That’s impossible when I’m “the driver”.

Yesterday, even after my dawn run, bike commute and full productive day at the office, I remained restless. I knew that I couldn’t go dancing because of my obligations at work today, but I needed something more than a cold bed and cartoons. My first thought was to cut to the chase, call someone over to warm the bed for a few hours and then put him back out afterwards. I thought in particular of Secret Squirrel and how he looked at me when we met the other day. Then I thought of Killa B and how candlelight turns his body into a work of art. I managed to shake that off almost as quickly as it came over me. However, to flirt with the possibility, I opted to shoot a few games of pool with him instead. He is the least threatening of the hot men I hang out with. My memories and imagination are stronger determining factors than his intentions. I had those pretty well in check, so I took the chance just for the sheer entertainment and anjoyment of his company. He said, “You like to be pursued”. He was absolutely right. A predator he is not - that is for certain. We ended our outing after four games, I won the first two and he evened up the score on games 3 and 4. I had a moment of waffling afterwards, but as I’ve stated before: Love, then Sex. My own words echoed in my head as I clicked the peg into the lock, closing the door between us and again confirming our platonic status. We'll ride together this evening.

The combination of meat for dinner and cocktails made me sluggish this morning. The fact that my urges remained unfulfilled just compounded the effect. I predict that I will train very hard this weekend to shed these last few pounds of winter insulation, incorporate the additional mileage training schedule for the Nike marathon and (most importantly) keep myself from finding trouble. I always know where to look and I never have to go very far.

I need to keep myself relatively spent. Too tired and I won’t make it out at all, not tired enough and I will either fall prey to the lures of shady characters or become a shady character myself, sniffing the air for the scent of the next unsuspecting victim. I’m getting too old for that life. It was fun in my twenties, but now I just want to have my fun while I’m out and go home to peace and quiet. I haven’t forgotten how to hunt. In fact, I may have already caught an interesting scent. We shall see. A patient hunter doesn’t need to work as hard, and I'm not doing it just to pass the time anymore.

What the ... I've been up to

I have truly lost my MFing mind.


This morning, I woke up so sore that I could barely drag my ass out of bed. Today I did the bike commute, a lunchtime yoga class and jogged the lake when I got home. Now I am waiting to go out dancing. I can barely get my ass out of this chair without cussing. I just took an Aleve in hopes that it will help loosen up these joints so I can dance tonight. See! That’s just crazy.

I signed up for the Nike Women’s Marathon. I’ll be doing the half. My goal this time (this will be my fifth time participating in this particular event) is to run all of it or come as close as I possibly can with three months of training. I had my first outdoor run today, after a very long hiatus. In fact, I believe the last time I ran outside was when I did the Nike last year… if you can call that running.

My knee still makes that crunchy noise, but it’s not going to stop and I accept that. Now the other knee is starting to make the same noise as well. Eh fuck it. As far as I know, this is the only life I’ve got so I’m going to run. It feels empowering to just go outside and run. I want to do it. I am going to do it. I don’t care what the damn doctors and trainers say. I am going to figure out a way to run that doesn’t make my knees hurt. Today, I tried a light tiptoe style. That seemed to work for the joints, but it makes me tired very quickly. I will have to condition myself to run that way. My knee feel absolutely fine right now, especially considering how tired I am from pushing myself all week.

I’m eating meat again. I had three weeks of vegetarian, and now I’m over it. At first I felt like I was starving all the time (and then bloated when I ate until satisfied). After I got used to the idea of eating more frequently, I was happy for a time. I felt light on my feet. I was sleeping better than I had in years. Although my strength and stamina didn’t seem to be improving, my recovery time was really fast. I couldn’t do as intense a workout as I was doing, but I could work out more frequently. I started doing a one at the office and then turning around and getting two more in the evenings at 24 Hour. Then I started back on the bike commuting and it all came crashing down. Apparently bike commuting is very difficult for me with a meatless diet. I began to get irritable and listless.

The first time I had meat again, I overslept the next morning. I don’t mean by a few minutes either! Meat makes me feel sluggish. It’s much more difficult for the body to process than fruits and veggies, so that makes sense. I just have to make sure I allow my body extra time to rest when I have meat. Although I miss feeling light and quick, I LOVE feeling strong and tough. I am trying to find a happy medium. So far I have determined that there will be no meat with dinner. I don’t want my body digesting meat when it should be sleeping.

That’s all for the update. Still nothing on the dating front. Well, maybe nothing – too early to tell right now.

Am I Black enough for you?

"She's not really Black." I didn't think too much about it when a friend I bowled with a few weeks ago told me that the woman who bowled in the lane next to us said it to him about me. I dismissed it as just her being ignorant, which really it is. However, I've heard this shit since I was a small child. You'd think that adults would get past that. Is it a sign of immaturity that this woman still thinks this way or is that a general consensus amongst full-blooded Black people that I have ignored?


Every other nationality that I interact with considers me Black. Most people don't even know I'm mixed.  Sometimes Asian people notice it around the eyes, but it's pretty obvious by looking at me that I am of African descent. When asked what nationality I am on a form that only gives you one choice, I choose African American.  I often forget that there are Black people who don’t consider me to be “really Black”. Mostly, I don’t hang out with people who say things like that as anything but jesting.

Well anyway, I just wrote it off. I figured I’d never see the woman again. Who cares what some random bowling alley woman thinks, right? Then when I did see her again I felt so disturbed by her. I wanted to say something, but what was there to say? I couldn’t think of anything except, “You’re ignorant”. I didn’t think that would go over very well.

Today, while out shopping with my mom, who is Filipino, I thought about it again. I thought about all the things I do with my hair, which is a strange combination of the two nationalities: frizzy and coarse in the center of my head, but smooth and fine along the edges near my face, ears and neck. I’ve tried texturizers to make the center hair limp so it lays down more similarly to the outer edges. I’ve tried cutting the edges shorter and fluffing the center up so that it makes an afro-type thing that always turns out lop-sided. I‘ve permed and hot-curled for years. “She’s not really Black” felt like I’d been slapped in the face. I mean, is being Black like having some exclusive membership? Is there some unspoken value to being Black that no other races are privy to?

Now I feel kinda sad for bowling alley woman. Living a life filled with labels sounds unnecessarily complicated.

Transformation Project: Assignment #1 - Get to Know All of My Neighbors

I’ve lived in this building since Halloween last year. I’ve met seven of the other twenty-nine plus residents here. I met one of the newer people at this past weekend’s Oaklavia street closure event. We were both volunteers. I recognized her electric bike because it has been locked to the staircase for a few weeks. I told her that it was nice to finally meet someone other than the people in the units next to mine. We agreed that this building is strangely anonymous. When I lived across the street, I’d at least seen every resident’s face and could strike up a conversation with about half of them. I was only there for about a year, and the man who lived next door to me was the hardest nut to crack. I actually had to take a bottle of wine to his door to get a “hello”! After that he just acknowledged me and smiled, but that seemed to be quite a breakthrough for him.


On one side, there’s the Cat Lady. She has two huge tabbies and she is extremely quiet. I never hear a TV or music or even voices from her side. Whenever I have people over, she always knocks on the door to ask us to be quiet. She may not be the ideal neighbor for me, but at least she talks. On the other side there is a young couple. From what I gather, they are college students and hip-hop dancers. They must have family who live relatively nearby because they are rarely around. When they are home, they are friendly and social. Cat Lady often goes over and asks them to be quiet too. Hip Hop Girl told me that she hates Cat Lady because she's always compaining about the noise. At the time, we were having an impromptu toast of ice cold cognac. I just managed to be passing by at the right moment to be included on the toast. Yes, these are my favorite neighbors. My first introduction to them was when they threw a party to raise money for a nonprofit that matches organ donations with needy recipients. How could I not like them?

Then there’s the really short older guy at the end of the hall. He used to have this crazy ass girlfriend whose temper was eventually her downfall. She has terrorized this building. He, on the other hand, seems perfectly serene. I don’t talk to him much though because I don’t want that crazy bitch chasing me with a kitchen knife! Yeah, she has done that. I thought they were the cutest little troll couple until she flipped out and the man had to lock her out of the gate to keep her from attacking her own niece. That particular incident reeks of questionable shenanigans, but my mind is far too twisted to even consider my version of what happened to be the truth.

On the other side of Hip Hop Duo, there’s this tall white guy who loves the Chargers. He seems to be a regular guy with a good sense of humor. I’ve run into him more than anyone else in this building. When I was going out a lot, he and I kept similar hours. I figure that’s gotta make Charger Fan someone who knows how to have a good time. I should introduce him to Cat Lady so he can mellow her out a little bit, but I get the feeling that she’d only turn her nose up at him anyway. I can’t fault her for that I guess. He is kinda geeky. I think she would be more receptive someone with charisma.

Maybe Cat Lady is a Christian or something – no booze, no sex, early to bed, early to rise, blah blah blah. I considered inviting her over for one of my video game parties, but then thought better of it because she might take me up on my offer and be the biggest buzzkill I ever met. Then what if she wanted to come over every time? She’s always at home, so I wouldn’t be able to avoid her crashing. Awkward! Best case scenario, however, would be if she loved the parties, got along with my friends and actually let her hair down once in a while. That would be so awesome. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll reconsider.

I've gotta figure out a way to swing this whole neighbor meet and greet.  I need to get some face time with everyone.  I can't do it all at once (going door to door) without looking like a freak.  Maybe I can recruit some help from Hip Hop Duo, Charger Fan and Electric Bike.  I really need to start by learning these people's names.

Fashion for Today's Shrinking Violet

I just confirmed for myself that this blog exists for a good reason. I hung out with some old Junior High schoolmates last night. I was okay at the time (probably because I was drinking), but now it makes me feel weird. I get this feeling like I don’t really know who I am when I’m with them. Naturally that’s crazy. I do know who I am, don’t I? I’m just a regular person who feels the same thing other people feel. I’m just a little bit insensitive sometimes. Isn’t everyone? I say things that are offensive sometimes. I often think they’re funny. Hell, they ARE funny! I just feel like there is so much I can’t say around them because they don’t think the shit I say is funny. That brings me back to my friend (what are we calling him? OMG or something stupid like that. OMB says that if I’m the only one laughing, then it wasn’t a joke. I asked, “What if I meant it to be a joke?”


“You didn’t.” He stated, rather matter-of-factly.

Is that true? Do I say mean things and then laugh in the person’s face after insulting them? Do I secretly want to insult people but cover it up with humor to make it seem harmless? Who does that? Do I really care so little for other people that I don’t give a damn who gets hurt? The strangest and most disturbing part of this train of thought is that I don’t know how to answer those questions. People tell me I’m a nice person all the time, but those are mostly the people who don’t know me that well or people that I love. Yes, I said love. I mean every kind of love. I wouldn’t torture the people I love, would I? Yeah, maybe. That is how I was raised. If you can’t punish those who love you, who can you punish? Sure that may be sick, but at least I’m not in denial about it like most people.



Then there’s the whole gender gap thing. Men find it endearing to heckle each other roundly. Women just…well, I don’t really get women. As a woman, that probably makes me some kind of weirdo. However, that is the plain and most honest truth I could ever speak. I DON’T GET WOMEN. I don’t understand what they expect from friendship. I expect my friends to:

pick me up when I’m stranded

calm me down before I do something irrational that may land me in jail or on Jerry Springer

provide me with a place to sleep if I need to spend the night

tell me when I’ve done something wrong, ESPECIALLY if I didn’t catch it myself

be honest and direct as much as humanly possible

expect the same in return

With most women I meet and try to be friends with, I can never really figure out why we’re friends. In other words, I don’t get the feeling that I can count on them for any of the things I listed above (or that I could even feel comfortable asking). With men, you know where you stand. It’s not a guessing game. When it comes to friendship, it really shouldn’t be. Seriously, life is hard enough.



Maybe I’m just mocking people and getting some selfish jollies out of it. Whatever the case, I’ve obsessed over it all damn day and I’m pretty much tired of thinking about it. I’ve already determined that trying to be more sensitive is not going well for me, so I’ll just resign to believing that those who are too sensitive to be my friends will just go away and find others to coddle them.



In the meantime, I still need to figure out some way to stop being so closed off to the world – emotionally. I’ve shrouded myself in aloofness so much that it has now been over six months since the last time I was even kissed. I’ve made no moves towards changing. In fact, I am more solitary with every passing week. With the exception of those I see every weekday, I don’t really socialize at all. Sure I go to clubs and dance, but rarely with anyone that I don’t already know and never with anyone showing some interest in me beyond that dance. It has come to a point where it makes me feel uncomfortable when I’m being pursued now. I dread that moment when I have to tell the guy to back off. The way I socialize with people is so often misread as purposeful flirting that I try to avoid more than polite interaction. 



I sometimes fear that I will turn into a hermit, but that’s just crazy talk… isn’t it? Maybe it’s the moodiness from this traumatic and disgraceful BP oil spill that is now in its 53rd day. 53 DAYS!!!! It’s tragic. It’s the worst thing that we (humans who use and develop technology) have done. I’m ashamed of myself for being a dirty human. I am ashamed of us as a species. I suppose this is not the best frame of mind to be in when one is looking to rediscover themselves socially. Six months may as well be six years if it's not meant to be.

what a shitty day

I'm nauseous.

I felt the same way yesterday.  I left work two hours earlier than I normally would so I could at least be at home while feeling weird.  I did five loads of laundry instead of resting.  Oddly, that made me feel much better.  How one person living alone piles up five loads of laundry is beyond me.  I'm not a lazy person.  I guess I just keep myself too busy.

My appetite has been really strange.  One minute I feel like I'm starving, the next I'm busying myself with another project that takes me an hour or longer to finish without even thinking of food.  After I eat I feel so full that I want to throw up, and it goes on like that for hours.  I had a late dinner last night.  I woke up sweaty and close to vomiting several times.  I thought I was getting sick, but I felt relatively healthy and well rested when I got out of bed at 6:15 this morning.

I've been breaking out in hives every day for almost two weeks, regardless of whether or not I take my 24-hour allergy pill.  The pill is getting more and more ineffective it seems... either that or my stress level has become so high that throwing an allergy pill at it is more of a pointless ritual than a treatment. 

The center of my stress is money yet again.  I've never been good with money.  Having all these bills is just making that truth more evident.  I'm going to have to stop volunteering for things because I simply cannot afford to keep eating out and buying fuel for unnecessary driving.  If I don't spend my entertainment money frivolously, I end up just giving it away!  I tell myself that no matter how much I have to stretch the next dollar, helping someone is always worth it.  Money is transient anyway.  There is enough for everyone.   All we have to do is share it.  Is someone going to share this stress with me too?  How about the nausea?

I really have no room to complain.  I have a comfortable apartment, a nice car, good food in my fridge, caring friends to keep me company and a parade of interesting men with jobs and personality asking me out (even without any promise of sex).  I have a cush job at a great company that thousands of people would cut their right hand off to work for.  So what's with the sourness?  And it's not just me - morale around this whole place is shot to Hell.  What is happening?  I hope it's just the alignment of the planets or some crazy shit.  I will be extremely relieved when this cranky phase passes.

Yesterday I was so desperate to be rid of the blues that I almost called an ex to end my abstinence - for no other reason than for it to just be over.  Then I thought again about the personality issue.  I don't want to deal with any of that.  Men like to say that they can have emotion-free sex, but it's a damn lie.  No one can do that unless they have a whole lot of it with a whole lot of different people - then they can fool themselves into believing that they feel nothing when what they really feel is confusion.  If I were to die tomorrow, I would not regret abstaining.  My life isn't missing much.  That is the real issue.  If I believed that an intimate relationship had some other purpose or benefit in my life than just being a physcial outlet, I would pursue one.  At this time, I would be hard pressed to believe that.  I suppose it is this elusive "soulmate" people speak of that I am either searching for, waiting for or perhaps even thwarting.  I'm not sure what I'm doing as far as that is concerned.  I like to believe that I hold some innate knowledge buried inside me would start tingling or set off an alarm when I meet "the one", but seriously... who does that? 

Oh well.  The good, no GREAT thing is that I am writing again.  Please, Fates be kind, let this lead me into rewarding adventure.  Get my mind off of these trivialities and back to wandering curiously beyond doldrum.

good karma and blah blah blah

I’ve been avoiding this blog lately, not for any particular reason (other than being sick of repeating myself). I’ve been out to a few parties but none so great that I would need to go through highlights. I finally popped into Levende East, Oakland’s counterpart to the one in SF. I was impressed by how clean it is. The interior reminds me of Tamarindo, a nouveau-Mexican restaurant just around the corner from Levende. This Old Oakland area has been transforming into quite the trendy spot magnet. One could say that the whole of downtown and surrounding areas has gentrified quickly. Ugh, I hate the way that word sounds like such a good thing. What it really means is that the original culture is being replaced by cookie cutter businesses which could exist just about anywhere. I do think that a lot of these new restaurants and bars are really cute, but they don’t have much character. I’m a fan of anonymity, but if everything is the same shade of grey it sure makes life boring.


I doubt that anyone I have met so far is the next big thing in my love life. I’m even starting to doubt that the next exciting thing in my life will have anything to do with love. I’m circling martial arts again. I do this every few months. When the money isn’t holding me back (like it is right now), there will still be the fear of looking like an idiot. One of these days I am going to realize that I’m really an idiot for letting fear stop me from going for it.

The highlight of the weekend, which just speaks to how uneventful it really was, was when Twin Peaks and I, upon returning from Levende, found a young woman semi-conscious on the curb outside my apartment. We took her upstairs and she passed out on one of the futons. I took her to BART the next afternoon. We didn’t make much conversation. I didn’t push the issue since I’m not interested in making friends who don’t have enough self control to get home on their own.

I’m going with OMB on his “recovery ride” again this week – this evening. I’m secretly hoping it starts raining before I go to meet him. Last Monday was such a humbling experience. I’d better make sure I have enough water anyway. I’m not canceling unless it rains.

the daily grind

I awoke this morning at 2AM with a runny nose and then again at 5:48 sneezing. I stayed in bed for the remaining twelve minutes until the coffee was ready. Now I am sitting here drinking my morning cup with a box of tissues, hoping that the sneezing and nose running will either stop or lessen so I can get this day started. I have my bike bag and gear by the door ready to go, but I get the feeling that I need to stay out of the elements and drive. If the nose dries up before it’s time to leave, I’m riding. Screw it!


This has been happening on and off for about two weeks now. Usually the symptoms go away midday and return in the middle of the night to disturb my sleep and/or make my morning an endless internal dialogue about the wisdom (or lack thereof) of going to the office. The sneezing fits are brief but violent, leaving me groaning, hunched over and breathing through my mouth. This has been screwing with my already questionable mental state by burning through my PTO hours. On Monday, I sat here and did almost a full day’s worth of work from home, which I will not get paid for since I signed a contract stating that my participation in the 9/80 work schedule makes me ineligible for telecommuting. I have more work that needs to be done today. I am not using vacation hours just to sit at home and do that work for free. I don’t have a fever therefore I am going to work. There’s also the matter of finishing up the kitchen cabinet job over at the Berkeley Food and Housing Project. It’s only a couple of hours work, but who else is actually going to show up and get it done?

I think my body is telling me that it needs more than eight hours of sleep a night to kick out this cold virus. Now all I have to do is find those extra hours each day. Getting home after 8PM isn’t helping. I realized when I was on the phone with KB last night that I needed to multitask almost everything that I needed to do in order to get my ass in bed before 11PM. I still only made it to bed by 10:30 (giving me almost 7.5 hours had I slept solid through the night). How do people with children do this? It’s insane!

to Hell at the speed of light

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


6:20 AM

Today’s journal entry will also be a blog. Let me remind myself of that before I start naming names.

I stayed home sick yesterday, not because I didn’t feel up to going to work but because I was sneezing and blowing my nose so frequently that it would only make my coworkers paranoid. Today I am still sneezing, but I can’t bear to spend one more day in this apartment. Duty calls.

As an ambassador for the company’s community service program, I research nonprofit organizations and make arrangements with them for my coworkers to come and help them out. My coworkers seem appreciative enough. However, the enthusiasm and excitement they demonstrate is embarrassingly short-lived.

Today we have a small group going out to a halfway home for adults with mental disabilities to refinish their kitchen cabinets. This group originally consisted of a foreman, my counterpart in the community service program, and twelve team members. In the past two work days, I have had half of the team cancel, and I have been unable to recruit replacements. Now, I must also go and be on this short-staffed team and recruit help in finding us (and the residents of the home) lunch while the kitchen is being updated. I had planned on doing that task myself, which also has had its pitfalls. With all the local box lunch caterers requiring over 48 hours advance notice for an order, I assumed that I would spend at least a couple of hours just getting the lunch together. Now I have to try and find someone else to do it for me. I don’t have time to be angry about it, but next time I am not going through all this.

It’s really a symptom of the degradation of our society. There is no value in a person’s word anymore. You can say anything and never back it up, and it doesn’t matter. Case in point, you can say, “I do” and be single again in less than a year. This is what we have “evolved” into.

the blahs and the boy Billie Holiday

It has been one anti-climax after another in my life as of late. I joined a dating service. That lasted about ten days before I deleted my profile. The guys who contacted me were just plain creepy. I’d rather take my chances out on the street. I guess you could say that I’m prowling again, but not with any zeal. From where I’m standing, the chase really seems to be the best part. What am I to do when it’s over?


I’ve talked to a handful of exes on the phone in the past couple of weeks, and I am soooo bored. Maybe companionship isn’t really what I’m looking for. I tried going out to the parties, and now I am bored with those again too. I’d probably do well with another backpacking trip, but I don’t have the vacation time to do it this year. I also really want to do something completely solo. Man, if I won the lottery I could just put on my backpack and go…

I did manage to see a great jazz show last Thursday at the Asian Art Museum’s “MATCHA” mixer: http://www.asianart.org/matcha.htm. The singer was Coco Zhao, nicknamed “the boy Billie Holiday”. The nickname sounds rather ridiculous, but I assure you this was one of the absolute best jazz shows I have ever been to. Shanghai Jazz pays homage to the golden era of jazz here in the 20’s. Coco sings some traditional jazz standards and also some Chinese folk songs to jazz melodies

His voice… I wish I could sing like that. His voice is beautiful and full of emotion. I knew when I agreed to go with Puppetmaster that I would end up staying out past my bedtime (and inherently succumbing to the cold I’d been fighting all week), but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. I wish I knew of another Coco show so I could go and see him again.

There’s something new at MATCHA every other month, but the next one I am excited about going to will be the Japanese Ghost Stories on October 28th.

Turning 30 Again

Thought I was going boarding for my birthday, but those plans fell through.  Somehow I still managed to scrape some entertainment together.

Last night, The People party at The New Parish was fun. The music at that party is always hit and miss, but it gets better every month. The patrons are good-looking. The men look as though they’ve put some thought into their clothing, but they also dance AND they’re not gay! I was talking to this woman out on the patio about that. We had a good laugh about the “and they’re not gay” comment. She said that she had seen her ex-boyfriend enter the club about twenty minutes prior and was nervous about how the night was going to end since she has a restraining order against him. I told her that she better be careful. A few minutes later, I ran into Killa B who was still looking hot as ever and now sporting a full lumberjack-style beard. I spent a relatively short time talking to him. I left him with Twin Peaks to go to the bathroom and when I returned he had moved on. I bumped into him once or twice more, but nothing exciting. ..Not that I was expecting anything. He gave me this weird look, but I don’t really know how to translate it because, well, it’s weird to run into your ex at a club. He could just have been feeling tense about it or something. It didn’t bother me to see him. I actually felt quite good about it.


Friday night was Triple Crown. David Harness didn’t go to Miami for the Winter Music Conference as he usually does, so I was lucky enough to have him spin for my birthday weekend – GO ME! Anyway, the usual suspects were there. He attracts the same people over and over again. I suppose I too am one of those people. That music was also hit and miss. That was a strange night for me because I barely drank at all. I’d planned on spending the night at a friend’s house in the city, but he was completely wrecked and couldn’t have given me directions to his house if his life depended on it, and my backup couch host was M.I.A. I didn’t want to get all messed up and have nowhere to crash, so I just made the best of it relatively sober. One of my dance floor buddies wanted a ride across the bridge, so I figured I’d hang out since I didn’t have anything better to do. I had a three hour nap that afternoon.

Thursday, now that was fun! I started the evening off at “Help the Healers”, a benefit for Doctors Without Borders at the Blue Macaw, where Tia Carroll sang a Happy Birthday song – the only song I danced to while I was there. There were a bunch of blues dancers there that night, friends of Emily’s (she had also performed). I felt a bit intimidated by them. I’ve never had a boyfriend who knew how to partner dance, and I’ve never had the nerve to learn it on my own. They were really good and having so much fun. I wished I knew how, but did not want to learn on the spot.

Twin Peaks and I left the Blue Macaw to go to the Aries Birthday Bash at this party called Pacific Standard Time located at Eve Lounge. I think I paid for two drink s that night – I probably had six or seven. I lost count. The bouncer at the door of Eve had a face like the guy from Ninja Assassin. He had shoulder-length hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing a black suit and black shirt with a red tie. In my head, I was all over that. He gave me a free drink ticket. I asked him if that ticket would get me into the back room where the real excitement was. I did mention that I lost count, right? Anyway, that was probably the most fun I’ve had on a dance floor in YEARS! We even did the electric slide! Yeah, that was a good party. They played hip hop flashbacks and some good dancing R&B tunes. My quads were on fire, but I kept going until I was too tired to move. On the way out, I told that bouncer that he was hot “like the guy in Ninja Assassin but without the scars”. He then showed me a couple of his scars. I told him that it wasn’t the same, but that I’d like to come back and flirt with him another time anyway. He says he’s there every Thursday. Maybe I’ll see him again in a couple of weeks. I haven’t decided if that’s a place I can enjoy by myself. Oh yeah, he also cupped my ass. I hesitated to write that because those guys are not supposed to touch female patrons, but it’s only harassment if it’s unwelcome, right? We don’t want to get a guy fired that we plan on potentially seeing again. Details… When I woke up the next day, it occurred to me that the scars he showed me could be stab wounds, considering their size and location. I also came to the realization that the movie star and the bouncer are not the same person. Therefore, I can’t expect to see a movie-worthy body when that black suit comes off. I don’t think Mr. Hot Asian Bouncer is eating clean and working out 6-8 hours a day. I still think it could warrant further investigation though, and I do have a soft spot for bouncers. I think it’s because they make me feel protected. I always flirt with them. I dated one once. His name was Will. He was another hottie. Years ago I frisked one at this club called Du Soleil. He said that he could lose his job if he touched me while on duty, but he invited me to “check him for weapons”. Yeah, that was a good night too. It makes me laugh just thinking about it.

Ugh. My back is covered with hives right now. This is day #3 without my allergy medication. I keep forgetting to take it before I go to bed. I can only take one per day, so it has to be at a time when I know I will be home every day. I’ve also been sneezing a lot.

Hmmm. I wonder what I would look like after eight months of eating clean with 6 hours of cardio and 2 hours of weights, 5 days a week. That’s what the guy Rain did to prepare for that movie. Eight months is a long fucking time to go without chocolate, bacon, sugar, pasta and just about everything else I enjoy eating. No thanks! Hell, if I did have that kind of willpower I could be a damn movie star too! Eight months... Yeah, that’s a long time. He did have a really great body though. It may just be worth it. On the grand scale of things, eight months really isn’t that long, right? Yeah, sure.

I might be getting too old for this shit

We have two pumps in the shower stall; one for shower gel and one for soap. I didn’t realize there was such a huge difference between those two products. The shower gel is mint rosemary or something like that. Someone told the office manager that it was too strong. “It doesn’t feel good… down there.” She said. The office manager replied, “You’re supposed to rinse it off.” Yes, I work with some strange people.




My three favorite words these days are, “what’s the point?” I ramble a lot, and I’ve been getting sick of hearing myself. As a result, I have very little patience when listening to people. There are the folks who talk a lot and never really say anything, and they annoy me the most. The other day I found myself cornered by one for almost an hour. I was having a whole unrelated conversation in my head until he realized that I wasn’t listening. Then he proceeded to repeat everything I missed. Sighs. I wished I had a fast-forward button. It was torture. I couldn’t help but wonder if I ever make anyone feel that way. I certainly hope not. The worst part of the conversation was when he started to suggest ways I could improve my fitness. FIRST OF ALL, the MF is a fat and unattractive man with those crazy razor burn rashes on his face and neck. Every time I see him he looks greasy and smells like hair that hasn’t been shampooed in over a week. I wanted to let his ass have it, but then I thought, “What’s the point?” He’s lucky I was sober. The poor guy I met the night before at the Endup wasn’t so fortunate.

Trouble said the guy was eyeing me from across the room for a while before coming over. I know this is shallow, but he was too short. Hey, everyone has preferences. He was a good-looking guy, although he was a bit corny. He was persistent too, little fucker. He said he and his friend where both straight and in town visiting from New York. Naturally, all straight men visiting from New York come to San Francisco and go to gay clubs. Yeah, right! If the cynical expression on my face wasn’t enough, my sarcasm and my elbow jabbing Trouble in the ribs every time the guy said he was straight couldn’t have been a more obvious sign that he was getting nowhere. AND why did he have to keep announcing that he was straight? Yeah, ok little man. Finally, I decided to go in and dance. He noticed that I liked the song playing and said, “Oh would you like to dance?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna go dance over there.” Conversation over. It may sound bitchy, but I tried being nice first and it just didn’t work. I sometimes admire people who are persistent, but not when they are harassing me. Oh well, at least he was cute. Trouble retold the story the next night and everyone roared. I didn’t think it was that funny.

I had hoped to run into Hot Fireman again, but I didn’t make it to the parties he said he was attending. The music was just a little too electronic for me. I listened outside the front door, before committing to spend the $20 entry fee, and it was like listening to the soundtrack to a really bad drug movie. I didn’t want to spend the evening performing the balancing act of trying to get toasted enough to enjoy it without getting so drunk that I fall on my ass. I was in no mood to play that game, especially considering that Trouble and I spent almost six hours at the Endup the previous night. When I’m tired, the line between sober and shit-faced gets too thin to decipher. The magic really only happens when you get as close as possible to that line WITHOUT crossing it. I wasn’t so confident that I could do that with how tired I was. The night ended up being a bust, and Sunday was recovery day instead of roller skate day. I guess Trouble and I got a little ahead of ourselves. And another thing – WHERE ARE MY WINGS, RED BULL? I must have consumed at least four cans of that shit Friday night. FYI, it makes hangovers so much worse.

Phew, we made it. Happy Friday!

I’ve been doing a pretty good job of catching up with people over the past week. Something about reclaiming my closet pace has given me some new energy to be social and genuinely interested in other people’s lives. It feels a bit like having a nagging issue resolved. Now if I can just get mom and her finances squared away, I can feel truly liberated. I am tired of her always asking for money, but it’s time for the shoe to be on the other foot. She had to put up with my hand out for more than eighteen years. It’s only fair.


I think about mom a lot because she’s the most prevalent unresolved issue in my life at the moment. She has so much debt, more than I could have imagined she would have, especially considering that she is retired and on a fixed income. At first I couldn’t understand how it happened. Then I moved in with Killa B. He and I have so many similar traits when it comes to over-committing and sheer enjoyment of living. It was like me living with myself five or six years ago. The transition from then to now was a hard one, and no one is going to do it on their own if they don’t have to. I’m not sure when or if he will. That part of my life was really fun, and I didn’t want it to come to an end. It was impossible for me not to be a buzzkill. I was becoming my mom and making plans for how someone else should be spending their money. That’s when it finally clicked and I understood where my mom was coming from. Although I was right (and she was right when she did it to me), that still doesn’t matter. I can’t control anything except what I do. To believe otherwise will only set me up for disappointment. I’m always pleasantly surprised when someone comes through for me when I need help, but I owuld be foolish to rely on it.

I picked up my brand new Cyclocross bike from Marin Bikes yesterday. She’s purrrrty. It’s so me – unwilling to commit to one side over the other. I want some respect AND some wild abandon. I rode to and from the BART stations today because I don’t own the tools necessary to lower the seat. Suffice it to say that the seat location was a tad uncomfortable – yikes. All I had to do was get it to the office, and I knew someone would be there to take care of me. We’ve got some avid cyclists and former bike mechanics working with us. There’s probably an athlete of every sport under the one roof. We get industry discounts on every sporting good imaginable…except skates of course. Now that the bike has been given the green light by the most trusted bike mechanic in the building and the seat is at a more appropriate height, I’m going to wander the streets to find my new commute route. That’s right, I’m semi-retiring my vehicle. She is also very lovely and sporty, but my knee needs to be strengthened by the cycling.  The car will just have to understand. Ugh. I never thought this day would come. I can’t believe I actually WANT to run again.

Trouble T is in town for the weekend, so you know there’s adventure afoot. If I can manage to skip out and stay home, I’m going to use tonight to catch up on much needed rest while she roams the city with the boys. It has been a really long week, and my body is sore all over. It’s telling me that I’m not allowing it enough recovery between workouts. I've had Aleve with my morning coffee twice this week.  Tomorrow night should be a hot mess for sure and Sunday will be hung over roller skating. I’m also hosting a dinner for five tomorrow evening and video games prior to the clubbing. Should be fun! Although I’m a little worn out right at this moment, I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.

time stands still

Still remembering parts of last weekend.  Damn alcohol.  Why is it that alcohol is legal when it kills so many brain cells?  How can pot be illegal while alcohol is legal?  That's so stupid.  An alcoholic can become a meth-head just as quickly as a pot smoker can.  An intoxicant is an intoxicant.

Anyway, I headed out on Friday night with PS, one of my party friends that I never actually do anything with except for the club runs.  I was convinced that I would stay home (or at least local) Friday and have a really exciting night on Saturday with the three parties I’d planned on attending.  However, PS called me and I gave in so easy.  We headed to Temple to hear David Harness spinning.  I danced my tail off.  We went on to the Endup afterwards, where I stood out on the patio talking to boys all night long.  There was this one SUPER-hot fireman who swore he was straight, but you never really can be sure these days.  I got my fill of looking at him and calling him a cutie.  I talked to his friend Sean (made-up name of course) during the lull between last call and the time when PS was ready to go home.  Sean is in love with a drag queen.  He wants to know if that makes him gay.  I’m sighing and shaking my head just thinking about that question.  My first thought, and I believe most straight people would say, “hell yeah!”  However, I could see that he was really upset about being labeled.  I told him, “You like what you like.  You don’t have to call it anything.”  He seemed comforted by that.  Oh good; I made a friend.  Did I mention that Sean is a financial advisor?  Yeah…

We gave this guy from LA a ride back across the bridge into Oakland, and he asked how PS and I became acquainted.  PS blurted out, “the music.”  There couldn’t have been a truer or more accurate answer.  The guy thought it was really profound.  His reaction made me think.  There are these songs that are not really considered club classics, but are obvious crowd favorites.  Most are just a basic electronically generated beat and some really annoying looped sound effect behind some guy talking.  “Not everyone understands house music…”   I’ve always thought of that as a rather dramatic view of any type of music produced by some guy sitting in front of a sound board in his living room.  I guess I take it for granted.  Living in the SF Bay Area (and through the magic of Facebook), I have access to decent house and a dance floor almost any night of the week.  I’m spoiled, and it wouldn’t be the first time.

I stayed home from work yesterday trying to finally kick the sniffle I’ve had since Squaw Valley (yes that mystery sniffle that is somehow alleviated by drinking lots of alcohol but strangely unaffected by cold medicine).  I figured it was just sleep deprivation, but I didn’t sleep any more than I normally would while I was home.  I did clean the house, unpack boxes and run all the errands I couldn’t do with my debilitating hangover on Saturday.  I also received a UPS delivery of a rug that I ordered online.  Since I have no concept of measurements in my head, I was quite surprised at just how large 8’ x 11’ really is when I came home to discover it sitting by my door.  The only thing I could think of was, ‘Wow that UPS guy must be pretty strong.’  I think I’ll send cookies to the drivers during the holidays.  They work hard.

After my “recovery day at home”, I now have thermal curtains (on rods I mounted yesterday), a new color scheme in the bathroom and bedroom, clean laundry and dishes, a Windows 7 upgrade and a slow cooker with enough food for a week’s worth of new recipes.  I watched a movie while folding laundry.  In between dryer loads, I cleaned the kitchen and bathroom.  Yes, I actually paused the movie to clean the kitchen and bathroom.  It’s official – I’m addicted to being busy.  I have no idea how some people do all of this shit in addition to taking care of children.  That seems impossible to me.

On a sort of unrelated note, Killa B finally got a new place.  I think he moves in mid-month.  I finally get to have all my closet space!  I can’t wait for the day when he calls and tells me that he’s ready to get his stuff.  I figure he’ll probably need some of the basics too.  Since I redid the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen recently, I have a bunch of odds and ends to spare.  I also spent an hour or so packing up stuff to give him.  I’m not using it anyway, so why not?

I'm just a girl

I’m moody. I suspect this is going to be the norm for the next few weeks.


Pat of having OCD is obsessing. I get stuck on something and worry myself incessantly about it. Since moving, that something has been money. I know that most people worry about money, but I just won’t shut up about it. I can’t go for more than a couple of hours without wondering how I am going to alleviate the stress.

I thought things were looking up because it’s bonus time at the office. As it turns out, I have to pay over $2000 in taxes because of some money I won gambling last year – which I in turn loaned out to people, and the bulk of what I loaned out went to SS who still hasn’t paid me back one stinkin’ penny. Between that and catching up on the maintenance issues I’ve had to neglect since moving to the new place, my entire bonus is already spent. I burned through my tiny bit of savings really fast while moving and during the first couple of months before I realized that KB wasn’t going to be a contributor. I haven’t had my car serviced in over six months. My motorcycle registration was mysteriously (and conveniently) lost in the mail (which, according to DMV, I am still responsible for), so I received the second notice in January stating that I now owe triple the original amount. I’m sure the amount has continued to grow exponentially while it has gone unpaid. I’m sacrificing every possible luxury and skimping in every way possible to make ends meet. I clip coupons. I shop the grocery stores by which items are on sale. I buy most of my household products from the dollar or 99 cent store (including using their antibacterial hand soap in place of medicated facial cleanser – it works surprisingly well). The only organic food I eat is what comes in my weekly veggie box. I haven’t had a single professional service since moving: oil changes, car washes, manicures, pedicures, haircuts, waxing, massages. I am finally getting a real haircut this week. I’ve determined that I need one every three months if I do my own trims in between. I also need to buy a new pair of running shoes and insoles; my knee is getting all weird and crackly again. Oh yeah, and there is also the matter of paying off the overage charges on my wireless account so I can have my phone turned back on…let’s not even go there again. I’m tired of being pissed off about that business. I want to just get past it. I tried to be nice to people, and I ended up inconveniencing myself. You really can’t count on people to do what they say. I’m starting to doubt that I will ever learn that lesson. I want to chalk it up to experience and just go on with my life, but apparently the lesson is really trying to cement itself in my mind. I just wonder if I can still learn the lesson without feeling angry about it.

I really am tired of being angry. It’s not helping anything, and when I calm down I just feel sad. Then I have to do the positive self talk to get going again. When my mind finally quiets down, I go right back to worrying about the money again. Then I go back to how I got in this situation, and I get angry again. I just repeat that cycle over and over. This is not a healthy state of mind to be in while intimately involved with anyone. I have to get myself together before I even think about dating again. I am still hurt and bitter and angry and despondent. I feel isolated emotionally. I don’t want to let anyone in. I’m too much of a mess.

I am trying to focus the obsession on something else – getting physically stronger. I tried focusing on changing my body, but I just got hung up on food like I usually do. I get desperate to see results and then I start doing crazy things with my diet. That’s never a good direction to go in; it only ends in bingeing. This way, I can let my body tell me what it wants to eat. I’ll work it really hard when I feel strong and back off a little bit when I start to feel worn out. I have a pretty solid schedule: Zumba on Mondays and Wednesdays, running (and strength training if I feel up to it) on Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday. I also have yoga every Thursday afternoon. I’d like to switch that to Monday and Wednesday, in addition to Zumba, but so far I haven’t felt up to the challenge. Saturday is recovery day. I sleep a few extra hours, eat my fill of whatever I’ve been craving, stay up late watching TV, bar crawl, whatever. I also catch up on my magazines. There’s no journaling or coffee on that day either. It’s my day off from everything.

Last Saturday Twin Peaks and Puppetmaster came over to work on a film class assignment. I had planned on vegging all day and then going out to drink and dance that night. I ran into one of KB’s associates while buying a Red Bull in preparation for my evening out. We talked for a while and it made me feel sad, so I stayed in. I used my Sunday morning to be lazy instead. I went for my run just before dark in the rain. It was nice because there were only a few people out. I could zone out and be in my own world. It was a good way to end the weekend for a mending soul.

when the time comes, you'll know...that you need to grow a set

I have many mentors. Most of them I chose for myself, and some of them don’t even know. One of them is an older black woman who has been married to the same man for almost as long as I’ve been alive. We’ll call her Oracle, after the sage in the Matrix series. She was unable to conceive her own children, but she has stepchildren, an adopted child and grandchildren. She said that my life is filled with intimate involvements with severely damaged men. She said that she couldn’t understand why. To her, I seem to be a relatively baggage-free woman. I was surprised when she told me that. She said that my problem with emotional baggage is my inability to realize that I no longer have any. So, she thinks that maybe I attract these guys with so much baggage because I exude energy that says, ‘Give me your baggage because I need something to carry.’


I gravitate towards men who show compassion for other people and know how to have fun. No matter what I say, I cannot deny that there is always a sign to let me know when I’ve touched on something complex that is buried deep; I just choose to ignore it sometimes. For me, as a person who has survived and who knows other functioning survivors of abuse and grief, I believe that no matter what a person has gone through, there is still a good chance that they can be a happy and productive member of society. When you take away all the confusion around the dysfunction of growing up under tension and trauma, it comes down to one basic fact – eventually every person comes to a point in their life when they have to make a choice. You either choose to face the ugly truth and start working on breaking free from it or you choose to ignore it and continue living your life with the blinders on. Although it’s easier to just wear the blinders, it’s still a constant battle to keep ignoring the truth that keeps getting bigger and pushing into your fantasy world until it starts driving you crazy. This is where self-medicating fills in the gaps for most of us. Every alcoholic and drug addict is just someone whose pain was stronger than their will. I’ve been there. If my doctor could say so, I was an alcoholic in high school. My parents were both alcoholics at some point in their lives. The appealing thing about alcoholism and substance abuse is that when you wake up in the morning and say, ‘my life is so pathetic’, you can just get high and that voice of self pity just goes away. Oh man, I have totally been there.

Everybody needs a moment to feel bad for themselves and give themselves some sympathy. There is also something to be said about drowning your sorrows with kindred spirits. However, one day you wake up and you are sick to death of feeling pitiful (and tired of being hung over). So, you dust yourself off and deal with it. Everybody falls on their face a bunch of times before they manage to get strong again. You just can’t give up. That is the bottom line.

I like having people around me who have been through the wringer a few times. They really appreciate the simple things. Every night when I peel back the linens on my bed, I make this cooing sound in anticipation of feeling the sheets against my skin and sinking into the down and memory foam. I consciously took note of it for the first time last night, but I realized that I do it every time. When I go out with Twin Peaks and Puppet Master, we are giddy and often irritatingly friendly because we are so pleased to just be happy, together and having fun. I thought that KB and I also felt that way. For a time, I guess we did. When it came time to do the work and grow together, we couldn’t find any common ground. I am a demanding person, especially strict on myself, and I expect a lot from someone who shares so much of my time and resources.

For some reason, when I tell a man who is interested in being romantically involved with me that I am a slave-driving bitch, he never believes me. Maybe he says to himself, ‘she can’t be that bad because she talks so nice to me.’ Well, let me tell you something. The evil things I think are a hundred times worse than anything I’d ever say. When I see a guy wallowing in pity I think, ‘be a man, you pussy!’ I say, “Everyone has tough times. Take some time out and get yourself together. You’re going to be fine.” Oracle says that there aren’t any men who have experienced intense trauma that are strong enough to pull through it. She says that they will always need someone to help them carry their baggage. She says that they are not capable of coping as well as women do and will not be able to recover – they will always be dependent. I disagree. There has to be someone. I refuse to believe that there are no strong men out there. I don’t expect to find a man who is indestructible, but at least one who can spend time and energy to see things that are out of balance and work on them. I am aware that no one will ever be close to perfect, but complacency just bugs the hell out of me. I was one of the worst cases - complete with suicide attempts. If I can move past it, anyone can.  I am not that special...though I'd like to think so.

I do not have any plans of becoming more sympathetic. In my mind there is a line that cannot be crossed (thanks to T.H. for putting it that way). At this point in my life, alcoholism is one of the things that lie beyond that line. Losing my temper and spewing filth out of my piehole like a psychopath is also on the other side. I do not have any fantasies about saving other people from their demons. If someone wants to live their life on the other side of the line, they are free to do so. I’ve come too far to go back, so I won’t have any parts of it. Furthermore, if someone thinks so little of themselves that they want to go there bad enough to take me down with them, I reevaluate our association.