Thoughts From the Dirty City

Sometimes I wish I lived in a big city. A place where public transportation could easily take me where I needed to go. But I don’t. I live in Akron, where public transportation seems to exist only as a last resort. On top of that, I commute to work. This means that public transportation is wickedly impractical (as in it would take more time to get to and from work than I would actually spend working). So, like most in this area, I own a car.

Most of the time, I LOVE owning a car. It offers a certain sense of freedom. As horrible as it is for the environment, I fully admit that there are times I love nothing more than climbing behind the wheel and just heading out to cruise around, clear my head and occasionally see and find things I didn’t previously know about. As great as that freedom is, sometimes, owning a car is just bullshit.

This weekend was one of those “bullshit” times.

For a while now my car has been leaking…something, and making a funny noise when I make a turn. I looked under the hood and the only fluid that was even slightly low was the power steering fluid. I figured this was good news as power steering isn’t something that will either A) kill the engine if it goes out, or B) make the car not drivable. It wasn’t great news, but I figured it was far better than some of the alternatives (read – OMG please please please don’t be the transmission.)  I also figured, since it was the fluid that controls the steering this was probably also the cause of the noise.

A little voice in the back of my head told me I was being delusional, but I decided to tell that voice to go fuck itself. Until that is the little voice was validated by my dad (who knows more about cars than anyone else I know). According to him, that noise could be a lot of things…few of which are good none of which should be ignored.

Sigh, time to head to the mechanic. NEVER a good thing. Even when there is nothing wrong and your just dropping the car off for basic upkeep stuff, it still sucks royal. When something is actually wrong it doubly sucks. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I had a trustworthy mechanic I knew I could take my car to. One who would tell me what is wrong and the cheapest possible way to fix it. Not one who tells me everything little thing that COULD be wrong and basically wants to strip it down and rebuild the whole damn thing (Midas).

My usual plan of action in these situations is to take it to a place like Midas (because they do free inspections) then take their list of insanity to my dad (who knows about cars) and ask him what on that list ACTUALLY needs to be fixed or repaired. I try to prepare myself for worst case scenario, because with cars that is usually the way it goes.

Saturday morning I did just that. And the news was not at all what I was expecting. The leak…not power steering. My car was leaking oil from the plug. Not a big deal really. Plugs go bad…and are cheap and easy to fix. Midas wanted almost $70 to replace the plug and give my car an oil change cause you can’t do one without the other. Now, I don’t know what kind of magical unicorn horn plug they were planning on using but that quote is just criminal. Thankfully my hero had taken me out to breakfast while Midas was doing it’s thing and was sitting with me when I got the news. He laughed and said we can go buy the stuff to do all that for $20 and fix it that afternoon. Like I said, hero.

But that leads me to the real reason I was having them look at my car in the first place. That funny noise coming from the wheels when I was making turns. Obviously it was totally unrelated to the power steering leak, as there was no power steering fluid leak. Nor was it the CV joint, which is what I was fearing it would be. Nope, it was the axle. Which according to Midas was completely blown. Again, this is Midas so who the hell knows how bad it really is. Either way, a bad axle is nothing to eff around with. Especially when you spend an hour a day on the highway. Bad news bears is what it was.

But, first things first. That cursed oil leak. Normally this kinda thing isn’t all that big a deal, but when the plug is so worn you can spin it by hand really bad things could happen. Again, nothing to ignore. So off me and my hero went to do the quick fix of putting in a new one. Aside from having to make two trips to find the cheap oil and a place to buy the plug it was going pretty smoothly. That is until it was time to put in the new plug.

More bad news. It wasn’t the plug. The oil pan itself had been stripped. Ffffffuuuuuu – igures. This could only mean one thing. The last people to change my oil had over tightened it and sent me on my way without fixing it or even notifying me it had happened. Way to go Valvoline. Awesome.

In the midst of all this my mom had been calling for updates and reminding me of other things I was supposed to have done but had put off. When I told her there was more bad news all she could think was “enough, it’s time to buy a new car”. Back and forth we went about this and that and buying a new car not being an option. I know she meant well and was only trying to make things easier/better for me. Her heart was in the right place. At that moment it just pushed me to that breaking point. Trying to figure out what to do with the problems in front of me that I had no idea how to fix, and convincing her that a new car wasn’t an option (wishing more than anything that it was) I snapped. In that moment I just crumbled. It was bad. And totally unnecessary. But it happens. I’m no good at having too many questions and not enough answers. But I pulled myself together. My hero patched up my car with a temporary fix and got it drivable. Dad said he could fix the oil pan the next day. It was all going to be fine.

But something irked me. That something was Valvoline. They charge an assload of money to do a reasonably easy job. If anyone should be fixing this mess it should be them. So Sunday morning I gave them a call, and as expected they pretty much told me to piss off. The dude listed a few possible explanations that would make this not their doing, all of which were bullshit. I called him on his bullshit and made it known I wasn’t going to shut up about this. He said all he could do was start an investigation report and let me know what the find in the next few days. Not helpful. I said I would be fixing my car by then and even though they wouldn’t pay for someone else repairing it I was still going to see it through and at the very least expect them to cough up an apology. I did this with a lot of very colorful language.  A few hours later the manager called back to ask me a few more questions…I lost it. I was beyond irritated. He finally caved and asked me to bring the car in to see what they could do. In the end they fixed it that afternoon and were very apologetic (without actually admitting fault). But whatever…FINALLY something went right and at least one of my problems was fixed.

I came home content that things were turning around and realizing more and more that these little minor set backs in life that while irritating aren’t really worth spending too much time fussing about. A realization that extends far beyond just car trouble and emotional meltdowns. In the long run it all works out. You just do what you have to do to get over the little hurdles along the way and only give them as much time and attention as they absolutely require.

As I was relishing my new found calm and resolve to just do what had to be done and not stress or think about it all that much when I heard a noise. A somewhat welcomed noise. It sounded like rain. I love rain, so I walked over to the window to check it out. Nothing. All quiet outside. Hmmm. Odd, I definitely heard rain. It was raining in my bathroom. And a bit in my kitchen. I had to laugh. I mean really, wtf. It was the perfect “ffffuuuuhhh” to end the weekend. On the plus side, whatever was causing it to rain wasn’t my problem. That is one of the small benefits to renting. I got on the horn to my landlord and got to laying out some towels. He called back a few minutes later and told me the peeps in the apartment above mine had overflowed their toilet and it took them a while to get it to stop. Yup, it was raining nasty toilet water in my apartment. Oddly, I still just had to laugh. It was gross and not something I WANTED to deal with…but ultimately not a big deal. The rain stopped, the clean up commenced. Either my epiphany to not sweat the small stuff really had sunk in or I was just all tapped out of the ability to give a shit. Either way, I found it more funny than anything else.

Today I get to deal with the remaining problem of my busted axle. I found a local mechanic who came in with a reasonable quote for the repair. The shop is right down the road from me and has been around for 50 years. This is great on so many levels. One, they are a local small biz and I’m always in favor of supporting them over big corporate chains. And two, it’s walking distance from my apartment! This means I can drop it off and walk home while it is being fixed. HUGE plus in my book.

Yeah so, to make a short story long, I guess what I learned from all this is that shit is going to happen. You can make a big deal of it or choose to just muster through as best you can without letting it get to you. Obviously this is easier said than done, and I’m sure that there will be some shit in my future that causes me to sweat. That too is unavoidable I imagine. That is life. But for now I’m glad I’ve calmed down and seen the situation for what it is. No big effing deal. A minor inconvenience that will be history in the very near future.

PS – my poor neighbor was SO embarrassed and overly sorry about the minor plumbing mishap. I felt bad, but all I could say was “no worries, shit happens.” This did not make her less embarrassed. People are so weird about this stuff. (Myself included.)

Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn’t seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy whips out his phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps, “My friend is dead! What can I do?”. The operator says “Calm down. I can help. First, let’s make sure he’s dead.” There is a silence, then a shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says “OK, now what?”

Additionally, I think that “cunt” is the dirtiest of the swear words and can/should only be used in extreme cases where no other word will suffice. More on this later.

I said I was going to make an attempt to keep up on tracking what I’ve read, and what I thought about it. Sorta fell off that wagon the moment I jumped on it.

Anyway, here is what I’ve been reading lately and a breif recap of what I thought. I’m not going to write any synopsis, or go over the plot…that is what book jackets (and google) is for.

Herman Hesse
Steppenwolf and Sidhartha

I’m going to be very vague and speak generally about both.  Ultimately, I think both are about the journey of self discovery. The author was very into Eastern theology. That was obvious through both books, though much more obviously in Sidhartha. Each book presented a very different journey, but both had the same goal; to find unity and balance within oneself (they just name that something different in each of the books). The Steppenwolf’s journey was through torment and self doubt while Sidhartha’s was through knowledge, experience and eventually self sacrifice.

Way genaric description of both. But honestly, I think these are the kinds of books you just have to read for yourself. I think each will mean something different to each person that reads them.  Regardless, both are very powerful books. I highly recommend. I do want to add that Steppenwolf is about as uncomfortable to read as a book can be, but totally worth it.

Alice Steinbach
Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Women

Where titles are totally unrelated and I say more than I’m comfortable with…but am saying it anyway.

I’m an anxious kinda girl. For the most part, I’m okay with that.

There are lots of kinds of anxious. One for every emotion I’m capable of having it seems. There is “happy anxious” and “sad anxious” and ” >:{ anxious”. (for those that don’t know me that well, the last one roughly translates to “stab. stab. stab.”) And on most days, that little bit of anxiety hanging on to all my threads doesn’t really bother me. It’s like a low hum in the background. Part of the noise, but not really disruptive in any way.

Background noise.

Except…. (holy crap, I do not like talking about this)

Once a month, every month, since puberty struck, the volume gets turned up on my background noise. The anxiety consumes me like an emotional wrecking ball of hell. I always thought it was just PMS and I was just being much more of a cry baby than most people. I thought it was normal and did everything in my power to ignore it and “just stay positive”. (hahahaha. Like that works. Mostly I just pretended I wasn’t collapsing in on myself in a fit of “whoa is me”)

For three (sometimes 5 – ugh) days a month I feel like an alien enters my body. My thoughts and actions are not my own. Well, they are mine, but it’s like they are being dictated by a 13 year old girl. It’s like I’m watching myself from the sidelines. Rationally thinking through all the overreactions and meltdowns but powerless to stop them. My head can see through the fog, but it can’t seem to reach that part that keeps my emotions connected to rational thought in any way.

A few years ago I finally fessed up to my OB/GYN. She scrunched her eyebrows together and asked me to tell her as much as I could. When I had finished and she had asked a few questions, she told me it was PMDD and that she was switching my birth control. I got all “huh?!” and “isn’t that just PMS”. She said a lot of big words that basically amounted to “No. Not really.” But I was reassured it was pretty common and that the meds should get me back to feeling like myself.

Ah, the magic meds would make it all better. Except they didn’t. They helped. Sort of.

It’s like I became a lot more hurky-jurky with the whole deal. Some months I was okay. Some I was not. And when I wasn’t, I REALLY wasn’t. It seemed like when it was bad, it was worse than it had ever been.  I convinced myself it was all in my head and that knowing about it and thinking about it was the reason it was getting worse.  Le sigh. Like that kinda thinking ever really gets anything fixed (true or not).

So…on to my family doc. She asked the same round of questions my OB/GYN asked. Agreed with the PMDD theory pretty quickly and asked if I was interested in anti-depression medication. It wasn’t that I was adverse to taking it…it was just…well, it seemed silly to take something EVERY FUCKING DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE to fix something that only plagued me a few days a month. Being that she is awesome, she totally understood and just wanted to make sure I knew my options.

She also offered me xanax, but with great caution and warning. It’s addictive. You will develope a tolerence to it. Etc. Etc. Etc. Here is the thing. I DON’T LIKE PILLS. The idea of taking the xanax freaked me the eff out. (for many reasons that I wont get into here) But of the two…at least I could just take it as needed. But because I don’t like taking them, sometimes I don’t even when I obviously need them. (Ever had a real full blown anxiety attack? If so, you know what I mean when I say “NEED” them.) I know this needs to change. If I need them, I should take them and not feel bad about it. At the same time, I don’t want to need them and am trying to find alternatives to lessen (if not eliminate) the necessity.

I hate this about myself. I hate that I have the issue. I hate that I have such aversions to the things that could help me. I hate the way it makes people close to me feel. I hate that it makes me say the word hate so much (something I’m really trying to let go of). Maybe that is part of the problem. The hating it. The trying to deny it’s happening. Maybe if I just learn to embrace it, and be okay with it I will be better able to deal with it.

I think in general, if I eased off myself and just loved myself a bit more a lot of things in life would be easier.

My whole life I have loved to draw. Sometimes more than others…but it’s always been there. The need to put pencil to paper. I don’t do it very often anymore, and most times when I do it feels a little forced. Honestly, right now I can’t remember the last time I opened up my sketchbook to draw. But the desire to do it is as strong as ever.

It’s hard to explain…I want to do it, but once I start I feel like it’s an obligation I’m fulfilling rather than something I’m doing simply because I want to.  I’ve been trying to figure out why this is happening for a while now. Mainly I think it has to do with my own over analytical self telling me I’m not any good…or it’s a waste of time.  That frankly is just stupid. But the insecurity won and  I’d sort of put my sketchbook away along with the thoughts of why things had taken the turn they had. Until a line in the book I’m reading put it back in front of me.

“At such times I reminded myself that life was not a test and no one was grading me. Except my own superego, of course.”

I think I have a tendency to get in my own way a lot. I need to take a step back. Be a bit nicer to myself and not give so much power and authority over my life to my stupid insecurities.  If I’m doing something simply because I enjoy doing it, who gives a shit if I’m any good at it. The point isn’t to be good or bad, it’s just to be happy.

On that note. I picked up my sketchbook again…and plan on spending some time with it. As much or as little as I want. And only because I want to.

The following are the last entries in it. None of them are new…just seeing where I left off. Hopefully there is a lot more to come.

It’s fashion season again (actually I think we are nearing the end of it, but whatev).

The big one…Fall fashion. And the most noteworthy thing to come out of this years fiesta was Galliano getting the boot from Dior for saying he loves Hitler. Seriously, what an assbag. Talent is not an excuse to be an asshole. Speaking of, Gaga walked the Catwalk at Thierry Mugler. Her song debuting at the show (Govt. Hooker) and the clothes where both forgettable. The stage itself was fun though.

New York, Milan, Paris…etc. They all came and went (or are going). While I’ve poked around a bit and looked at a few shows here and there, I haven’t really spent much time with any of it this year. I think it has to do with the fact that most of the shows were pretty blah. Nothing was really standing out to me. Each one just sorta ran into the other. Some were bright, some lacy and some racy. But nothing really made me drool. Then again, it’s been a rough winter, so it’s entirely possible that it’s me and I’m just not that into the fashion thing right now.

I did find one show that got my attention just based on the clothes.

Ann Demeulemeester went all sorts of savage this year. She always does, but this season seemed special somehow. Maybe it was the deconstructed corset looks, or the glammed up chewbaca-esque coats. The raven feathers definitely added to the  “Imma tear your face off” feeling stalking those runways. It was almost all black and very glossy. The few pops of color sprinkled in kept the whole thing from becoming tragically goth.

Maybe I just love it because it looks like pieced together leftovers from the Edward Scissorhands costumes. But you know, fancier.

Or maybe I just liked it because there was no illusion netting. That shit seemed to pop up EVERY.FUCKING.WHERE this year. I know there are a lot of women that love it and say it makes them feel sexy or whatever. It’s just not my thing. Pantyhose clothing, no thanks.

Also, glittery shoes would look awesome with those fur coats.

The following short quiz consists of 4 questions. The questions are not that difficult.

1. How do you put a giraffe into a refrigerator?

The correct answer is: Open the refrigerator, put in the giraffe and close the door. This question tests whether you tend to do simple things in an overly complicated way.

2. How do you put an elephant into a refrigerator?

Wrong Answer: Open the refrigerator, put in the elephant and close the refrigerator.

Correct Answer: Open the refrigerator, take out the giraffe, put in the elephant and close the door. This tests your ability to think through the repercussions of your actions.

3. The Lion King is hosting an animal conference. All the animals attend except one. Which animal does not attend?
Correct Answer: The Elephant. The Elephant is in the refrigerator. This tests your memory.

OK, even if you did not answer the first three questions correctly, you still have one more chance to show your abilities.

4. There is a river you must cross. But it is inhabited by crocodiles. How do you manage it?

Correct Answer: You swim across. All the Crocodiles are attending the Animal Meeting. This tests whether you learn quickly from your mistakes.

Many preschoolers got correct answers. Most adults got them all wrong.

**I have ZERO idea where this came from originally. I’m doing a bit of house cleaning on the old wordpress front and found this in a pile of discarded drafts of posts.

Today, it made me laugh.

True story.

It was a few years ago. Two, I think. But don’t quote me, it could just as easily have been four. Cults are funny that way.

I’ve always been fascinated with Buddhism. Not so much as  a religion, but a philosophy and general way of life. (Turns out pretty much all religions work this way for me, good in theory only) So the idea of yoga and meditation really appealed to me.

The yoga part was easy enough. Well, acquiring the “stuff” and attempting it was easy. But the best part of yoga is no one is going to yell at you for not being any good at it. You just do the best you can and say sorry when your “tree” falls down on someone elses’.

The meditation part….well, I figured I was raised Catholic and how different could meditation be to prayer? Turns out, very different. Like whoa different. With prayer you can get to a point that the words come while your head goes any place it likes. You know, like saying the pledge of allegiance while thinking about the cute boy you sit next to in 5th period. You can say one prayer while all you’re really thinking is “please god, let me win the lottery.” I came to discover the opposite is required with meditation.

Meditation is more about letting go of ALL thoughts. Learning to “calm your inner world.” Or something close to that anyway. Calming my “inner world” and letting go of thoughts and distractions came about as easy for me as advanced theoretical mathematics (i.e. – huh?!). So I did the only thing a girl with a healthy sense of curiosity and zero common sense does; I got on-line, found a “group” practicing zen meditation and asked if I could crash.

They enthusiastically said yes, told me they have a vegan brunch after the meditation and promptly emailed directions to me. I didn’t get nervous till I drove to the address and realized I just showed up at a strangers house wearing my pj’s and carrying a blanket. It was like the 3rd grade sleep-over at a friend of a friends all over again. I was afraid. I was very afraid. What if they were creeps, or mean, or laughed at me for doing it wrong.

Or worse….

At the same time, I just drove more than an hour to learn how to shut the eff up, I wasn’t just going to run away. Not without ringing the doorbell anyway.

Turns out the “guru” was having car trouble and wasn’t going to make it to the session. Yes, seriously. Guru’s have car trouble. Who knew?! Anyway, I was still invited to participate even though there was no one there to “guide” me. At this point part of me was relieved as I had convinced myself the “guru” would have forced me to take payoute and search my soul for my inner Jim Morrison – the place had that kinda vibe. I agreed to stay and was then bombarded with each members ideas of what meditation is and what I should get out of it, etc.

I must have looked shell shocked cause the room got all quiet and one of them pointed to the basement stairs saying it was time to get started. Not something a girl wearing pj’s in a strangers house wants to hear. But I didn’t object. They all picked up their little meditation benches and went down to the partially finished, yet totally creepy basement. I followed, reluctantly,  blanket in hand and was told to sit in the chair facing the corner. Supposedly that position would make it “easier” for me. Shrug. What was I gonna do, say no?!

A bell was rang….and that was pretty much it.

I sat in my corner for somewhere between 30 minutes and 3 hours praying (I know, ironic right?!) that I would get outta there without either A) dying or B) seriously insulting the cult by sneezing, yawning or letting the eff word slip during quiet time.

Right about the time I lost all feeling in my left buttock the bell rang again and people started shuffling up off the ground. We went upstairs where a table had been set up with your standard fare of vegan food. The group began to chatter and I offered up many “thanks” and “that was so amazing” all while thinking “I need a cigarette and a shot of something that will kill whatever I mighta breathed in accidentally” and “eat faster fuckers, I want outta here”.

Then I left. And laughed at myself the whole ride home. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

The moral of this story: Guru’s have car trouble just like everyone else.

But I am looking into meditation again and was reminded of this, one of the weirdest days of my life.

Also, anyone got any recommendations on some non-creepy meditation centers in the NEO area?

Namaste

It rained last night. And was still storming this morning. (member when I talked about the blizzard a few days ago…yeah OHIO!)

Anyway, the news is all “The appocalyse has come” “Dams are breaking, the world is ending” “The zoo flooded, lions are gonna eat your babies” Etc.

All I could think about was that if my life was half as awesome as it should be, I would spend today building a popsicle arc and send it down the cuyahoga filled with these

Additionally, if there is a Lion and and Elephant hauling ass down 77 right now, someone better take some banging pics.

It’s still February, so waking up to a foot of fresh snow shouldn’t be all that surprising I guess. But really, this winter more than any other I can remember, has been a complete and total asshole. All the BIG storms seemed to hit right at rush hour when everyone needs to be out in the thick of it. There were few (none that I can think of aside from a few days last week) moments where winter backed off a bit and let mother nature be tolerable. It was a constant flurry of piercing cold, gray sludge and hellish snow. It’s enough already.

But all that is kinda obvious. Ask anyone that lives in a place like North Eastern Ohio and they will say the same thing. Winter is an asshole, and I’m ready for spring.

This morning, as I’m snowed in and grumbling about how much I HATE winter, something dawned on me. The realization hit as I listened to a neighbor curse his way through snow blowing his driveway. It struck me that almost exactly the same sounds could be heard in summer. Just replace the snow blower with a lawn mower and the cursing of snow to the cursing of the perpetually growing weeds and such.

Every season it seems is kinda an asshole in it’s own way.

When spring finally does arrive, everything will turn to mud and/or be completely flooded. (Personally, neither of these really bother me all that much…but to some people it’s worse than the snow). Ask anyone with basement issues and they will tell you spring is kinda an asshole. But it compensates all that by revealing the rainbow of life that survived the arctic winter. The grass comes back to life, trees bloom and spring bulbs pop outta the ground like magic.

But then comes Summer. Ah, summer.The harvesting of delicious local produce, bright sun and blue skies. Sounds like heaven. Come July when the temperature hits 90+ and the humidity is so thick you feel like your swimming rather than breathing…even summer can feel like an asshole. But being outside on a breezy day eating fresh fruit makes up for it.

And Fall…okay, I have nothing bad to say about Fall except that it never hangs around long enough. Fall, you are not an asshole and I love you.

And then it’s back to winter…

I guess what I’m saying is, it isn’t SO BAD. And as much as I am ready to move past winter and head into spring, winter has it’s moments too. There is nothing like sitting in the perfect silence watching the snow come down slow and soft making everything glitter.

Winter is an asshole, but it’s had it’s moments.

Have you been outside yet?! It’s SPRING out there. The snow is gone. There was a big shiny thing in the sky which has turned a crazy BLUE color. It isn’t even a little gray. Seriously. How did this happen so quickly?!

I know. I know. It’s just temporary and a few more rounds of that asshole winter are lurking around. But generally speaking…the seasons are a changin. And not a moment too soon.

Fresh air.
Sunshine.
Walks outside instead of a treadmill.
It’s FINALLY happening.

Ah! I feel more awake today than I have for months.
That mental/emotional hibernation shit is for the birds.

I’ve just finished reading both Steppenwolf and Siddhartha. I’m planning a post on the two and how amazing I think Hermann Hesse is. Until I can really get my head around it all a bit more clearly…I’m planting some of my favorite quotes from Siddhartha here.

“Therefore, it seems to me that everything that exists is good – death as well as life, sin as well as holiness, wisdom as well as folly. Everything is necessary, everything needs only my agreement, my assent, my loving understanding; then all is well with me and nothing can harm me…I needed lust and to strive for property…to learn not to resist them.”

“The river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth…in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere, and that the present on exists for it, not the shadow of the past, or the shadow of the future…Siddhartha the boy, Siddhartha the mature man and Siddhartha the old man (are) only separated by shadows, not through reality…Nothing was, nothing will be, everything has reality and presence.”

Siddhartha is the beauty to Steppenwolf’s beast. Both are equally powerful and beautiful.

I NEED to see Black Swan as soon as possible.

Mainly to get ideas about ways of incorporating a tutu into my wardrobe. Because based on recent award season red carpet fuggery, it is NOT as easy as one would think. Also because, regardless of what the whiny ass official movie costume designers are saying, Rodarte made the tutus and that is enough to get me to the theater.

What’s that you say? This movie has been out for at least two or three lifetimes as far as movie releases go?

Yeah, I know,  it’s sad. The movie has been out for FOREVER now.

I need to hop to or I’m not going to get to see it till it is released on DVD via the Red Box at my local Walgreen’s.

I do this all the time. See a happening, or something I want to do, make a mental note and then ignore it completely until the day after the whole thing has gone down.

I believe I have a goblin living in my brain that eats good intentions.

So, I’m trying to do that whole “get healthy, drop weight, be happy” thing. Yawn, who isn’t. That is what January and February are all about. Anyway,  I’ve been reading as much as I can about health and ish. Mostly blogs. Mostly boring.
I also restarted my account at SparkPeople to help track my nutritional intake (not just calories, but the types of calories etc.). It’s handy because it breaks it all down in a few different ways. You can look at the food you are taking in, when you are taking it in…what types of food you eat more of than others. What types of food you should incorporate…blah blah blah. They will also set up a work out schedule for you and help you set goals. It’s pretty limitless in the ways you can use it. Because of that, the site is a little overwhelming. Once I stepped back and stopped trying to hammer every detail of everything all at once, it seems much more manageable.  And so far, so good…

Anyway, I read on one of the blogs today about what a calorie really is and where those numbers come from. It’s strange, but I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about what a calorie is aside from a basic unit of energy. Here is what I learned:

A bomb calorimeter is a special instrument used to measure calories in food. The food is first dried to remove water and then placed in a special container that rests in water. When the food is burned, heat is transferred to the water. The amount the burning food heats the water is the measure of calories. One calorie is the energy needed to raise the temperature of 1 gram of water 1 degree centigrade.

The energy values of the 3 calorie-providing nutrients are as follows:

• 1 gram of carbohydrate

  =

  4 calories

• 1 gram of protein

  =

  4 calories

• 1 gram of fat

  =

  9 calories

Calories may also be added to food intake by consuming alcoholic beverages. Alcohol is not a nutrient because it cannot be used in the body to promote growth, maintenance, or repair. It is a toxin that is broken down as an energy (calorie) source and can be converted to fat.

The more you know….

I

It’s easy to get bogged down in the muck of everyday life. Especially in late January in NEO. The world is gray and covered in grimy salt lick. When the sun makes a rare appearance it gives no warmth. High noon tends to look more like dusk. It’s not hard to see why this time of year has more suicides than any other.

But rather than spend another day moping around waiting for spring I’m going to try to focus on the little things that make the day a bit brighter. There are always little things to smile about. Right?

So here goes, a few things that aren’t covered in road salt:

A good night sleep. Somehow it’s easier for me to sleep in the winter. I imagine it has a lot to do with how early the sun goes down.

Saying no to the cookies and yes to the gym. Doing things that are good for you aren’t always easy, but they do tend to be more rewarding in the long run.

Coffee. As long as there is coffee, the morning can’t be ALL bad.

Home cooked meals. It’s easier to use the stove and the oven when it isn’t already 90 degrees in your kitchen.

Kids cereal. Mock all you want, Cookie Crisp is feckin tasty…and it’s made with whole grains so it isn’t all bad. Yeah, I know. But it’s better than a fast food breakfast sandwich.

A lighter work load. For me anyway. I still have a bunch of work to do, but this is the slower time of the year here in the office. It’s nice to be able to breathe a bit and get things done without panic.

Thick wool socks. This is the only time of year you can wear them to the office and still feel appropriate.

Trips to the zoo. Most people think the zoo is just for summer. But really, winter is an awesome time for a visit. The indoor exhibits are nice and toasty and there is rarely a crowd. Also, the Akron zoo lets you feed the penguins in the winter for a very small fee. (OMG they are so freakin cute and they totally know what is up when you walk up to the glass holding the paper cone)

The lake finally freezing over. I read yesterday that Lake Erie finally froze over. (Insert joke about hell freezing over here.) Hopefully this will mean the lake effect snow is done for the season.

The list could go on and on. Thankfully there is a whole lot of little things to smile about. It just takes a little bit of looking.
In any case, it’s a much better train of thought to start the day with than sighing with resignation at the salt stains on the hem of my pants.

PS – winter is still an asshole.

Oh winter, you have barely just arrived and I’m already counting down the days till you leave. You are like the bad house guest that drinks all the wine and leaves the toilet seat up. It’s expected, but unpleasant all the same.

My commute in to work this morning was total crap. The roads were clear and it wasn’t snowing, but winter ruined it anyway.

There are certain preparations that one must take before hitting the road in winter; warming up the car, clearing off the snow and ice, making sure your windshield wipers aren’t caked in ice, and also, picking the snow out of the windshield washer fluid thingies on the hood. All small simple tasks, but forget one and you will regret it.

This morning I forgot one and spent the entire drive unable to wash my windshield of slush and salt. It isn’t the worst thing in the word. You sidle up to some passing semis to get enough ick on your car so the windshield wipers can do their thing. And there is usually at least one spot you can see through if you tilt and perch a bit. So really, not all that big a deal. But yeah, annoying.

I know what you are thinking. Why didn’t I just pull over and fix it? Because I’m lazy…especially at 7 a.m. Besides, I made it to work just fine aside from being irritable.

This is where the story takes a bit of a turn.

After I parked my car and geared up with my bag and travel mug, I locked the car door and slammed it shut with the hem of my coat still unfortunately inside the car. Normally this would be no big deal. Unlock the door, remove coat, proceed with day. But when the lock on the driver side door is broken and can’t be unlocked from the outside, it presents a bit of a problem.

So I took my coat off and let it fall to the disgusting salt and sludge covered parking lot and walked around to the other side of the car to unlock the door. While doing this (and freezing my ass off in the process) another car pulled in beside mine running over the bit of my coat that was on the ground.

This is my life.

In the end, me, my car and my coat all made it in to the office on time today. If only a bit worse for the wear.

The moral of my story: being lazy inevitably just ends up making more work. Also, I’m done with winter now.

I’ve started this post a few times, not quite knowing where to begin.

There was a time in my life where I had a very clear and defined sense of personal style. Getting dressed in the morning wasn’t a chore. The more time I spent putting an outfit together the better I felt all day. I had a sense of confidence in how I looked and what I wore. Even if it did get some stares and more than a little mockery from fellow classmates. And that really is what having a sense of style is all about. Being confident no matter what other people might think.

At some point though, and I can’t remember exactly when, I seemed to have lost that entirely. These days I dress more to cover my bits and be appropriate than anything else.

I got a necklace for Christmas this year with implicit instructions to return it if I didn’t like it. When I showed it to a friend they smiled and said “you aren’t going to return it are you?” Of course I wasn’t going to return it. But every time I looked at it I wondered if it was really “me.” Is a silver peace sign reflective of my personal style? At one point in my life it would have absolutely been a perfect reflection of my style. But now? I wasn’t sure.

And then something hit me. I realized I wasn’t so concerned about figuring out if I liked it or not as much as I was trying to figure out if that is how people saw me. The realization pissed me off so much that I instantly put the necklace on and haven’t gone a day without wearing it since. When the hell did other people’s opinions become more important to me than my own?

If me 10-15 years ago would have heard the internal dialogue going on inside my head in that moment I would have punched myself in the face.

How did this happen?

Is it just a part of getting older?

Is it just that I am far more self conscious than I used to be?

Is it because of the weight gain?

Ugh. No more. I know that I am not the same person I was a 15 years ago. And I’m thankful for that in many ways. But I miss parts of that girl. The part that was willing to walk down the street head held high, oblivious to the cat calls of “hey freak.” I miss that confidence. I miss that unshakable sense of self.

And there is no reason I can’t have that part back. It’s still in me, all I have to do is find it…

PS – thanks for the necklace Mom. But more than that, thanks for the reminder.

Okay, it really wasn’t all that bad. Actually, as far as years go, it was pretty good. Some ups, some downs and one tragic loss that will forever change my family. Overall though I would say it was a pretty good year.

I’ve never really been into the whole “New Years Eve” thing as something to celebrate. It just feels like any other day trying desperately to be important. And any attempt I’ve made to make any sort of deal about it has felt forced and unnatural. Birthday’s seem a more appropriate time to feel the rush and relief of “surviving another year.” I don’t know what it is that I can’t get my head into about this day. I wish I could. Sometimes I wish I could be one of those bouncing dancing fools filled with the hope and possibilities in that magic moment a new year begins. But I’m not, and I’m okay with that.

I can’t however deny there is a part of me that internally marks this moment as an opportunity to start making changes to improve my life. It’s hard to avoid, but I try. I don’t try to avoid making changes and improving myself. I try avoiding the thought that some magical date on the calendar is somehow going to make those changes happen of their own accord. The thought that just because the page has been turned on a calendar I’m going to magically have the willpower to make changes I’ve been trying to make all year. It’s the perfect storm of setting myself up for failure, and that is what I’m trying to avoid.

Change isn’t easy. The striking of a clock and turning the page on the calendar (hell even buying a new calendar) isn’t going to make it any easier. There is no magic time, or place for change. Weather you are in Times Square or curled up in bed with a book, come midnight, my life is still my life. If I want something, I have to work for it. So I’m not going to rely on the date to make my life better. I’m going to try to wake up everyday feeling like it’s an opportunity for a fresh start and the ability to make my life whatever it is I want it to be.

There is one thing about a new year that I love. Getting a new planner   I know most people track their doings digitally these day, and it would probably be easier to just use the app on my phone. But there is something I love about having it all written out on pages. Inked in, unremovable for better or worse.

Each year when I get a new planner I use the notes section to mark down the memorable events of the previous year. I go through the old planner page by page remembering good times, and making note of them. It’s sort of my annual tradition of looking back and smiling about even small things that happened that may have slipped through the cracks in my memory.

Here are a few of the highlights from my “What happened in 2010 list”

My sister gave birth to a new member of the family. The cutest little boy on the planet. Welcome to earth little Jackson!

My brother got married to a lovely lady and had a fantastic party (where I had more than one to many and had a ball dancing and laughing the night away)

I got stitchtes for the first time in my life (got them twice this year actually) The first finger on my left hand has been deemed the “Franken Finger”

I watched both my nieces dance in their recitals with cute little outfits and nerves of steal. May they always have the confidence to get up on stage and do their thing in front of a crowd with a great big smile on their face and not a single once of doubt.

I saw my first live boxing match

Went snow tubing (fancy term for sled riding) and had a blast acting like a kid for a night

I rediscovered my love of zoos and animals and spent many a days wandering both the Akron and Cleveland zoo. I also got to spend and amazing day at the Columbus Zoo as well (it is awesome – if you haven’t gone, do it!)

A lot of great things happened this year that looking back on made me smile and a few that I would rather forget. There were some bad things that happened (it’s only natural) but I’m not going to mention them. Better to focus on the positive I think and move forward to another year of memory making.

Happy 2011 y’all

This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong.

I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.

I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.

Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.

It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.

Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.

You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know. . . But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?

In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.

Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice . . .” I mean, it doesn’t really work.

We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.

Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.

The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.

(Excerpted from “The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time” by Douglas Adams)
(Taken from http://www.woltermanns.com/misc/cookies_Adams.htm)

I quite literally Stumbled* on to this today while trying to distract myself senseless from myself.  It got me to thinking. I have a lot of irritating and jarringly stupid interactions with people. We all do. Especially those of us lacking in the patience department. Anyway, what if those interactions are so blindingly irritating simply because we don’t have the punchline.

This is my attempt at not being bitter….
Yeah, I know.

Mostly though, I just really like Douglas Adams.

*If you don’t use stumblr, you should. It is the most efficient way to waste time I have ever found.