Flibbertigibbet

Huh?

I treated myself to Chinese carry-out tonight and my fortune cookie said, "You should be able to undertake and accomplish anything."

Should?

What does that mean?

Why should I be able to undertake and accomplish anything?

If I accomplish something, isn't it clear that I undertook it first?

Weird.

I Drank a Beer Last Night

A Heineken to be exact. Have you had one of these? I will say this: it was not offensive.

If you didn't know, I don't really like beer. But I think it's kind of growing on me. The one last night was pretty good anyway.

MTA Announcement

Hello, passengers of the downtown A train

The MTA is sensitive to the digestive complaints of its passengers, but respectfully asks that you avoid passing gas in the crowded train.

Thank you

Why Not?

In a recent post, I discussed some of my thoughts on drug use and admitted that I am very curious about what it's like to use them. Like most people who have a curiosity about "bad" things, there are times when the risks of that thing seem very low and easily surmountable. Such was the case when I wrote that post.

I ended that post by pointing out that I probably would not use drugs because I'm not comfortable with them.

That post invited a few comments on the reasons not to use drugs (specifically pot) which in turn invited response from me about why those reasons may be insufficient to deter me.

When considering whether or not I will try drugs, here are some of the reasons (some of them rather silly) that go through my head:

- I might get fired from my job and then I wouldn't be able to pass a drug test to get a new job.

- The police might see me and think I'm high and take me to jail.

- I like the fact that I haven't ever used drugs. It's kind of like my virginity in my mind. (A vulgar comparison, but still.)

- I don't like the idea of messing with how my brain works. (Even though I do drink alcohol.) I had surgery once and went under general anesthesia and it was very disorienting. I still don't like how that affected me.

- Even though I've met some good people who have used or do use drugs, I have an image in my mind of a drug user that is not at all flattering and I don't want to be that.

- This might oblige me to talk to people I really don't want to talk to. Like at the party I went to, the person with the pot brownies was super obnoxious and I was contented to have him get far away from me.

- People who have taken LSD talk about how they have crazy, random acid flashbacks or something. That is terrifying to me and although I know other drugs do not do that, but that doesn't stop me from irrational speculation along those lines. Actually, just the idea of hallucinating is terrifying in itself, but to detach it from a proximal cause... well, that freaks me out.

- What if the person offering the drugs did something bad to them, like mixing two drugs together? And then I die?

- Genetically speaking, I'm in high risk groups for all kinds of diseases, not the least of which is cancer. Some illicit drugs carry with them increased risks of these diseases, although long term use is probably a critical factor.

So, those are some of the (admittedly exaggerated) things that go through my mind. There are all kinds of other things in addition, but all of these ideas wind up creating an emotional response to illicit drugs that keep me away from them when perhaps my intellectual assessment of the risks is low.

The important thing to do is to revisit that emotional response and identify its causes.

When I sit down to actually consider using drugs, I come to the conclusion that it's not good idea. Even so, that doesn't stop me from being curious about it.

Eeeee!!!

There's this really cute trainer at my gym who has a client at the same time that I work out with my trainer.

And this morning, I was on my way to work and he saw me on the sidewalk and he stopped to talk to me! I didn't even see him; he purposely stopped and got my attention to chat.

He told me I should roll up my shirt sleeves to show off my arms!

*swoon*

He's so adorable and funny.

Too bad I think he's straight. Still. When cute boys talk to me, I think it's a good thing.

Morse Code

David Morse is going to be on an episode of House MD!

I love that show and David Morse is sooooo dreamy. Did you see that movie Down in the Valley? It wasn't that great, but he was super hot in it. He was all muscley and tattooed and with a goatee and stuff.

WOOHOO!

The Change of Life

One of the things that is contributing to my rising level of general happiness with life these days is an increasing level of self-awareness.

A large part of this is merely acknowledging various facts of my existence and my motives in making some of the decisions I make. I don't always make the right decisions for the right reasons. When you make the wrong decision, it's sometimes hard to admit it. When you make any decision for the wrong reasons, though, I think it's harder to admit that your reasons were wrong; sometimes it's hard to even identify those wrong reasons.

But lately I've been making a strong effort to be honest with myself about who I am even at the risk of not being too pleased with who I am.

Good examples are my earlier post about drugs and the one about my experience with child abuse. Another is my efforts to figure out what to do for a career.

It sounds stupid, I guess, but admitting that I'm curious about what it is like to take illicit drugs doesn't really mesh well with the image I have of how I should be.

And that's the problem I'm trying to dismantle here. The problem is one of an intrinsicist premise in my self image.

Intrinsicism is the idea that there is some inherent value in things without regard to their context. A similar mistake is subjectivism which is the idea that things have any value you want them to have.

The proper way to look at the world is to acknowledge that things ARE how they are and that the value of of things is determined by how they fit within the particular context of a human life.

For instance, an intrinsicist view of penicillin is that it is always good because it cures disease. A subjectivist may look at penicillin and say it's good or bad depending on how they feel about it at the moment, like today I like it because it's a pretty color but tomorrow I don't because it has a bitter taste.

Objectively, the value of penicillin depends on its value to a particular human life. I'm allergic to penicillin. If I take it, I get a crazy rash on my skin. Unless there is some dire reason to take it that supercedes the risk that I will develop a fatal allergic reaction, penicillin is bad for me.

This principle applies to one's emotions, too. It's not helpful to prescribe how one should feel about something and then insist that is how one feels in spite of the fact that one doesn't feel that way. That's called repression or delusion or something bad.

One time Buddhista told me that during her studies of Buddhism she learned to "greet" her emotions.

Like me, she has a strong personality and she prides herself on her ability and independence. She likes being successful and pushes herself to accomplish a lot in her life. I've been fortunate enough to share some good times with her and some trying times.

We came to talk about this idea of "greeting" one's emotions, I think, in discussing how angry someone made me at work one day.

The idea she was recommending to me was to stop and simply acknowledge the emotion of anger and even explore the breadth and depth of it, to fully experience the emotion for a moment before putting it away and addressing the situation that inspired the anger.

Although I don't advocate Buddhism, I found good sense in her recommendation. For one thing, it requires that one stop and be honest about what one is feeling. Rather than bottling up all of one's frustrations and trying to work as if they were not there, you stop to address all of the facts of reality in order to effectively address everything that needs to be addressed, which includes your psychological well-being as well as your outward well-being.

I've gotten pretty good at managing my anger and even my frustration with things I don't like and so I'm trying to take this practice and address other emotions. Maybe it's in a romantic relationship or just friendship. Maybe it's just reflecting on the hurt and insecurity inflicted by an abusive parent. Maybe it's acknowledging intrigue at other experiences in life.

In any case, experiencing an emotion about something doesn't mean that you're a bad person or that you have some weird, deep-seated character flaw. Since emotions are responses to values. Curiosity is an emotion driven by a desire for knowledge and experience.

Taking a moment to identify every emotion I feel and consciously identifying the correspondant causes has been a very helpful. On one hand it frees me up to actually experience an emotional experience completely, but without being overwhelmed or confused by it.

Supposing that one doesn't care for how one responds to something emotionally, given that emotions are responses to values, unless one properly identifies one's emotions one can't possibly identify the antecedent values and the ideas that lead to their adoption.

It's a simple idea that I've held in my mind consciously, but I think I am finally integrating it and shedding what remains of any intrinsicist premise I may have had from my Christian upbringing.

It makes me excited for the future and for life. It feels like a new adventure.

COFFEE!

This is totally weird, but for the last two or three days I have been CRAVING coffee. I've literally been awakened in the middle of the night wanting a cup of coffee.

What's weird about it is that I don't drink coffee. The closest I ever get to it are the sugary, creamy, flavored drinks at Starbucks and I haven't had one of those for at least a couple weeks. But I've been craving coffee.

It's just weird because it's not my usual fare at all and I've never had a craving for it before.

Reefer

I just realized some things about the guy who lives across the street. He smokes pot pretty regularly, he's straight, and he's not attractive but his friends are even uglier. Never mind the last three items because I want to talk about the first.

I've never done illicit drugs. I haven't smoked pot. I've never even gotten high off sniffing markers or whatever. At most, I've only ever gotten drunk.

In highschool, there was this stoner kid who used to color the entire palm of his hand black with one of those giant markers in business class. And then he would sit there with this hand over his mouth and nose through the whole lecture. He never struck me as being particularly bright either before or after.

I went to a part Friday night and someone turned up with what they said were "P brownies." My first thought was that they were made with urine. My second thought, which was not long after the first, I swear, was that they were the kind of brownies my mom threatened to make for the chuch potluck once when the old birds in the congregation made her mad.

Indeed, they were brownies made with pot.

I declined the offer of the brownies.

I guess they're made by cooking up regular brownies and just pouring in a bunch of pot. The old queer who made them said something about there being leaves in them before I wandered off to do something else.

From a medical perspective, marijuana is probably one of the most harmless illicit drugs there is. I'm not a doctor, but from what I've read on the topic, if I were forced to make a choice to snort cocaine or eat a pot brownie, I'd probably go for the brownie.

I wonder if it makes the brownie taste funny. It seems like pot leaves would be dry and bitter to eat.

I am curious about drugs. I wonder what's so special about pot. And I wonder what it would be like to take ritalin or adderall. I wonder about ecstasy and nitrate inhalants, too.

But the reason I've never tried any of those things is mostly because I'm scared of them. I don't like the idea of ingesting something for the purpose of messing up the way my brain works and perceives reality.

I do drink alcohol, which messes with a person's brain, and I find getting very drunk very unpleasant. Getting slightly drunk is nice, though, and I think that knowledge is what fuels my curiosity about drugs.

I mean, for the most part, the drugs listed above are not very harmful or addictive. They're mostly drugs that lots of people use recreationally without apparant lasting effects. It would seem that their health effects could be compared to alcohol.

Except with alcohol, you worry about your liver, which can regenerate, whereas with things like ampetamines you worry about your brain, which cannot regenerate. Folks having psychotic breaks are real buzzkills. Ya know?

There have been periods where I refused to drink alcoholic beverages because of how it makes you drunk.

I'm sure that I am not missing out on any significant life-changing experience by not having ever used drugs, but that does beg the question of "Why not" when the situation presents itself.

I must say that at the moment, I really don't have a good answer to "why not." But I will likely continue to decline any such offers because they still give me the wiggins.

Butch

So, it's football season. And I kinda wanna play football.

I've never played football before. I mean, I know the basic rules and all, but I've never really played a real game before.

But right now I really kind of think I'd like to try.

Isn't that weird?

Another Commercial I Love

Not that I actually want another frenzy of random Googlers showing up on my site to post their insipid "I love it, too!" comments, but I love the Starbucks commercial in which a man comes out of the subway and starts singing a chant/marching song.

I mean, who couldn't love a bunch of people dancing in the street?

I will make today the day (I will make today the day)

Tell success I'm on my way
(Tell success I'm on my way)

There ain't no ounce of doubt in me
That I move the economy

Who the man?
(You the man!)
Who the man?
(You the man!)

Don't think that one weekend night when I don't have plans that I won't be in my apartment trying to learn the choreography.

Fidelity: The Video

The music video of Regina Spektor's song, Fidelity, is up on You Tube now.

Check it out.

I've purchased the entire album now and I have to say it is better than a lit cigarette to the eye. Actually, there are a few songs I really enjoy on it. There are a couple that are awful, I think. But I'm still listening to it and haven't been able to process the whole thing.

I think I'd recommend it to you if you're really looking for something new and different, but aren't sure what to buy.

Meanwhile, I recently bought The Patsy Cline Collection and it came in the mail. It's four CDs of old skool country by the mistress of the craft.

Child Abuse - Part 3

I'm sure that many of you reading these posts are saddened by the account, but don't be. I'd rather you just learn from it, especially if you are a parent or think you will ever be a parent.

I used to be very angry and upset about what was done to me. For the most part of my adult life, I kind of considered it a secret. These days, I consider it simply a matter of fact. I'm kind of indifferent to it -- in itself.

I'm writing these posts in rapid-succession, without editing, because it is somewhat helpful for me to reprocess my thoughts on the matter although I've thought a lot about it over the past decade or so.

The first post was to document the systematic nature of the abuse in my paternal family. The second post was to describe my personal experience. And this one is to give you my reaction. I'm pointing this out because I am writing these without editing or even spellcheck and the structure or even the point may not be clear.

I want you all to know the nature of my particular situation and give some thought to the matter of child abuse.

Things could have been a lot worse. My mother could have been weak or supportive of my dad's actions. But my mother wasn't. She feels very guilty about letting it go on for as long as it did, but she did eventually do what she could to make it stop. And it stopped.

I think the fact that it wasn't worse makes it a little more nefarious because it makes my experience more likely to be downplayed. I am sure some people think, "Yeah, you were spanked a little hard and maybe too often, but you're ok now. You should let it go. At least you weren't raped or something."

I'm still talking about an outrageous crime here. I'm talking about deliberately hurting one's own children.

When my dad confronted me about being gay, the conversation turned to the nature and foundation of our relationship.

I pointed out that I do not love him. I do feel guilty every time I say it, which I do mostly out of habit, but I did explain that every time I say it to him, I'm lying just to keep the peace for mom's sake. I try to keep it to minimum. I told him that if it were up to me, I wouldn't have anything to do with him. I also told him that I won't forgive him, but I intend to do the only thing I can do to bring him to justice: not deal with him any more than I have to.

I do love and respect my mother. She and I have become good friends as adults.

But I'm pretty much a stranger to my dad.

I love children and I do want to raise a couple or five some day, but my biggest worry is that I won't be able to hold my temper and that I might spank them. I don't think any child should know the overwhelming terror that I felt: that those creatures who are supposed to take care of you might also kill you or at least hurt you.

What strikes me is the lack of a strong emotional response I have about the fact that I've been abused, though. I still hold it against my dad, but I do so dispassionately.

I used to fantasize about dramatic speeches at his or my mom's funerals. At one point, I used to even fantasize about physically hurting him back.

I'm very different from my sister and my cousins now.

Beating a child makes a long-lasting impression on their psychology even as an adult. My cousins display those traits common to my paternal family that I believe have resulted from the systematic physical/verbal/emotional abuse. My sister does as well but to a lesser degree. I show them to an even lesser degree still, but I think I'm more aware of them than my relatives and I make an effort to get a handle on those things.

Beating a child doesn't teach them not to lie. It doesn't teach them not to take things. It doesn't teach them to clean their room. It doesn't teach them anything useful.

Beating a child teaches them to fear and mistrust you. It teaches them that it is acceptable to hurt others when one is displeased. It teaches them that identifying and communicating one's feelings and finding non-violent solutions to one's problems is a wasted effort because a hand or fist or belt is a much more efficient solution.

Child Abuse - Part 2

My sister and I fought a LOT when we were young. We antagonized one another incessantly and screamed at one another during these conflicts. Our fighting was so constant and unpleasant that many people refused to have us at their house at the same time.

Once, my sister and I got into trouble for fighting and were charged with doing the laundry.

She and I both carried armfuls of clothes to put away in my parent's room where there was only a narrow passage between the end of the bed and the wall of shelves and drawers that held their clothes.

I went in first and put away the clothes I had, leaving her to stand and wait for me to get out of the way.

My dad was angry with us and was watching us do everything to make sure we did not fight and did our chores properly.

My sister moved to give way so I could get out of the narrow passage by flopping back onto my parent's bed.

My dad thought I pushed her.

I protested saying I didn't push her.

He said he saw me.

She refused to testify on my behalf.

I was directed to pull down my pants and underwear and lean over my dad's lap while he spanked me with his bare hand.

He has never apoligized for the injustice to this day and I have never forgiven him the offence.

Spankings with his bare hand on my bare bottom were not uncommon. In fact, they got to be so common that they really didn't hurt. Or maybe they hurt, but I learned to dismiss the pain. I would lie there while he beat on my bottom.

When he spanked us it was usually a machine gun pattern of fierce slapping that would go on for several minutes at a time. My endurance for the pain often exceeded his ability to give it because there were times when he would have to change rythm and even tell me to turn the other way so he could use his other hand.

I remember making it a game to see how long I could last. To this day, I can still find that place in my mind to go to when I need to dismiss physical pain.

He would not stop until he had decided I was crying hard enough. At least, I think that was his standard because when I got bored I would sometimes pretend to cry and he wouldn't stop until I really put my heart into my screams. Sometimes if I didn't lean across his knees right and he pushed down on my back too hard, I would have to give up early because I couldn't breathe.

Another time, my sister and I were fighting and she threw something, I don't remember what, and hit me. I chased after her and she ran into her room. When I reached her room, right behind her, my dad was coming down the hall.

He grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up an inch or so off the floor and pinned me against the wall. I could breathe, but I couldn't get free.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size."

I didn't point out that at the time he had a good foot and a half in height and over a hundred pounds on me.

He threw me to the ground in her room and made me apologize. Apparently, he felt that it was time for me to learn to be chivalrous and pay great respect to females.

It was clear to me after that incident that my father wasn't fully hinged.

He would get so angry.

His face is infused with many tiny capillaries near the surface of his skin, a trait I inherited, which, when he would get angry, would flush with blood and turn his face a terrifyingly bright red. He also has clear ice blue eyes and medium blonde hair. The colors of his face when enraged had the effect of warpaint on me as a child.

My sister and I were beaten so frequently and so savagely that we eventually turned to each other for support. It kept getting worse and we truly he was doing it out of sick pleasure. We began to fear that he would wake us up in the night just to beat us.

My sister and I actually started keeping knives in our rooms handily in case things got too crazy and we needed to actually do something. We talked about running away, but we knew that any adults we turned to would just give us back to my parents.

He only grabbed my neck that one time. He only pushed me once or twice. Mostly it was spanking with his bare hand. It was near the end that he spanked me a couple of times with a belt.

It did eventually end. My mother came to her senses and realized that my dad was out of control. I don't know what finally did it. Maybe the belt.

I remember they fought several times about it. I do remember she was threatening to leave him over the abuse.

I'm not sure exactly how long the escalated level of abuse went on. We were spanked since we were small, so it was always an option, but for a while it was really bad. I think it was more than a year maybe two that the violence was over the point where I think the term "abuse" is not only accurate but a fair representation of what was going on. I was somewhere between 10 and 14, I think.

And it then slowed rapidly and stopped.

I don't remember how things changed.

There are points in my childhood that are blocked out by extreme emotion. Things I only remember as stories people tell me happened because I was so angry, scared, or upset.

I do remember crying myself to sleep a lot even if I had not just been beaten. I remember I wet the bed even into adolescence.

Child Abuse - Part 1

My paternal grandfather was the sixth or seventh (I can't remember) generation of a certain line of southern farmers. A few years before the American Revolution they landed in Charleston, South Carolina having crossed the ocean from Ireland. A hundred years before that, they crossed the North Channel from Scotland fleeing religious persecution.

I don't know much about my maternal grandmother's heritage, but I know that she grew up in Iowa.

My grandfather died when I was five and I don't remember much about him. I remember that he didn't seem to talk very much. He was also a dark, intimidating figure. My cousins and I feared getting into trouble with him.

My grandmother, however, played the part of kindly church lady. I believe it was my grandmother, however, who played the part of judge in my father's family even if she left the actual discipline up to my grandfather. To be sure, my gradfather was complicit in the acts, though.

I believe this of the two of them based on my observations of my uncles and aunts. In my father's family, the men are dullards and weak in the face of a woman's whims, wishes, and rages. They're easily manipulated and the women take as much advantage of the situation as their short-sighted shrewish minds can connive.

They are positively, but colorfully, dreadful people. Perhaps another time I'll share some of my stories of them.

Spanking with switches and belts was the common form on punishment for the children in my father's family. Corporal punishment was stock and trade even for minor infractions.

I am not privy to the details of any particular incident, but in the one conversation my father and I have had on the topic, he merely said that it was to excess. The statement was offered to me as an excuse and I was in no mood to hear about it.

My cousins were obliged to go cut their own switches. They were beaten with belts and bare hands, too. I also know that on occasion they were even lashed with the cords of lamps or other home appliances.

Why do people hurt their children?

Presumably to punish the child for misbehavior.

Punishment for children is as different from criminal punishment as night and day. For criminals, the objective is punitive, to mete out justice, to give them what they deserve. For children, the objective is actually educational. The goal is to teach the child why their actions are wrong and concretely associate the misbehavior with negative consequences that might otherwise be beyond their grasp due to their undeveloped conceptual faculties.

More simply put: it is difficult for children to understand property rights or the concept of fraud, so you punish them for taking other people's things or for lying.

It is important that one never, ever be arbitrary in punishing a child. The rules must be consistent and (for maximum effectiveness) should be rational. One should never punish a child simply because one is in a foul mood.

Parenting is not an easy job by any stretch of the imagination.

I am of the mind that teaching a child the consequences of their actions does not require physical violence. It does require that a person be resolute and clear.

I think that people who beat children lack clarity. I also think they are not in good control of their emotions.

Many people who support spanking say things like, "I was spanked and I turned out just fine!" I was spanked and I turned out reasonably well. I would not say "just fine" because I am aware of the struggles I've had and continue to have to teach myself the rational way to deal with the world. I am sure that a person could be beaten as a child and still turn out normal and non-violent, but I think that is merely the result of other fortunate factors and circumstance rather than the result of the abuse they suffered.

I like to be clear that spanking is abuse because it is the violation of the child's body with force with the intent to cause pain. I doubt supporters of spanking would be more pleased if I referred to it as 'torture' although the comparison is apt.

Most of my father's family display common psychological traits when it comes to their interpersonal relationships. They're not very good at identifying or communicating their feelings. They are prone to violence when in a fit of rage, not knowing how to otherwise deal with their anger. Verbal abuse such as calling names or just repeated insults are routine and made even in public. They tend to make small attempts at manipulation, but their efforts are usually no more sophisticated than lying or concealment of their actions. They take pleasure in merely exerting power over one another. The espouse an admiration for familial ties and tradition, but they act more like it is a painful obligation. Children are forever "children" when it comes to their relationships to their parents.

Observing them at family gatherings is like watching a pack of apes in many, many ways.

It seems to me that physical abuse of the type my father weighed upon me was present in all of their lives to varying degree and duration.

Drunk Dial

When I've had a little bit to drink, I get very chatty and a bit bossy. I'm chatty anyway, but when I've had a little bit to drink, it's the kind of chatty that is, well, a little more bossy.

I rarely drink enough to get really drunk. I just don't like to amount of effort it takes to focus through the impairment.

What does this have to do with anything?

Well, a friend of mine invited me out to go dancing tonight. Because I like to tip my bartenders, I don't like places that have a cover charge.

Anyway, we decided to "pre-game" a little at his apartment and he "pre-gamed" a little too much. The bouncers at the club wouldn't let him in because he was too far gone.

So, we went and sat at a diner for a half hour and he decided he just needed to go to bed.

So, I headed back to my apartment. I called pretty much everyone I know.

I didn't call people I believed would be asleep, but I called everyone else.

No one answered.

Except one friend. I got to talk to him for a while and that was nice. I even got to talk to his new boyfriend. That was cool, too.

But now, I'm totally sitting on my sofa, waiting to get sleepy.

Too bad you're not here to talk to me. Cuz I am really in a chatty mood right now.

Bored and PISSED.

I was supposed to go to the aquarium today with a friend, but I forgot that my apartment was due for the pest guy to come by.

The guy is supposed to be here between 9 and 12. It's now after 1 and he still hasn't shown up.

I called the super who said that they're late sometimes. The super even said they might not show up, but instead come by NEXT weekend. WTF?!?!

So, I'm sitting here. Waiting for him.

Can't go to the gym. Can't go to the aquarium. Can't go shopping.

Pissed off, y'all.

The Day Off -- But Not Really

I am so sore. I haven't been this sore since I started working out with my trainer. On top of that, I have a crick in my neck that has been there for three days now.

I'm sore because I had a great workout on Monday. I ran last night and I worked out again this morning.

I'm supposed to run tonight, but I'm totallly not. I MIGHT work out tomorrow morning, but that will depend on how well I sleep and how sore I am when I wake up in the morning.

On the upside, I weighed in this morning and I've gained 5 more pounds. I now weigh 186.

Baby Panda Bears Look Like Naked Mole Rats

That is all.

Thank you.

Aaaaawkward!

I'm working from home today, which means that I have the television going while I work. Right now I have a show on called Airline.

Have you seen this?

I don't know if it's the same people every episode, but this time they're following some Southwest Airline employees as they attempt to do their jobs. Naturally, this involves coming into contact with the general public.

I have never had a job that required me to come into contact with lots of regular people all the time. Regular people are everywhere, so I've certainly talked to them, but I've never had to be the person who stands behind a counter or answers a phone and talks to such a great number of regular people as their primary job function. I've never worked fast food or retail and I've certainly never worked for an airline.

Here are some of the problems they encounter:
- A passenger with no neck (seriously sad and strange) misses her flight.
- A passenger has a very strong and offensive odor.
- A passenger has an over-sized carryon and refuses to check the bag. (Her bag appears to be stuffed full of things, but she points out that she has carried the bad every week without trouble. When she manages to get onto the plane, the bag fits in the compartment easily in spite of what the sizing thingie indicates.)
- A passenger is a professional comedian and decides to hassle one of the flight crew who is an amateur comedian by calling him a million times and keeping him from helping the other passengers.
- A passenger wants to fly to Las Vegas, but does not have a ticket for the flight he needs and he's trying to convince four people to volunteer to give up their seats so that he can go. Fortunately, he has a good story: he's flying out to surprise his girlfriend and propose marriage.

And I'm barely halfway through the show.

The challenge the producers face is that most conflicts that one encounters in an airport are rather short-lived, so it's hard to build and sustain tension over the course of a whole show. So, I respect the challenge. Unfortunately, it is not well-met and the show comes off rather slow and awkward.

The material is deliciously fun, though. If it lasts, hopefully they will perfect the formula and the show will take off. (Take off! Get it? Airline. Take off. See? I'm hiliarious and you know it.)

House Soundtrack

The new season of House M.D. started last week.

Has the soundtrack always been this weird? I feel like I've fallen into an angry and/or scared version of one of those "Soundscapes" booths you see at Target.

Oh, Ernest! Don't Let's Talk About the Weather

The weather in New York is turning cooler. I read on Wikipedia that the average highs and lows for September are 76 and 60, respectively.

I love the slightly cooler weather because I can wear more clothes. It's also not such an effort to pick out an outfit in the morning because I'm not filled with the dread of wearing 75 lbs of cloth drenched from my own sweat.

I've even worn a jacket to work the past couple of days! It's great!

The Book of Chronicles

I was talking to my dear friend, Buddhista, yesterday and I was telling her that this year is looking really bright for me. I feel strong and positive about the direction of things in my life right now. This may be the best year of my life so far.

I wish I could say that each year has been better than the last, but that's not true. I've had some reallly bad years. Here's how things have gone since I turned 18.

18 - OK year. Awkward. I was graduating from highschool. I was coming to some realizations about my life and my friends. But I was looking forward to college.

19 - Started college. Met my best friend. Kind of a rough year for us since we were roommates and I was having a rough time trying to figure things out.

20 - BAD year. I went into a deep depression, withdrew from friends, basically wandered around without solid direction to my life. Figured out that I'm gay.

21- Good year. First love came and went. It hurt. A LOT. But I had some good friends around me. Figured more out about how I want to live my life.

22 - Better year. Getting ready to graduate. Came out to more people. Grew more confident and comfortable in my life. Found my first job. Loved it.

23 - AWESOME year. Seriously, best year of my life. Work was going great. I was loving it. No romance, but had good friends. Started running. Found Objectivism. Felt great about life over all.

24 - Another great year. Nothing remarkable, but stayed on track and felt good.

25 - A pretty good year. Job troubles started.

26 - Another OK year. Job troubles continue to grow, but nothing too bad. Attempted a brief romance that didn't work out. First time dating in a couple of years at this point.

27 - Terrible year. I was over my old job, but in denial about how much I hated it. Job troubles continued to escalate. Ended an 11 month relationship that wasn't going anywhere.

28 - Not as emotionally painful as 20, but barren, disappointing, and just disheartening. Life seemed to be trudging along and going no where. So, I quit my job that I was hating and moved to New York. Things started looking up.

I'm 29 now. The upward arc I started in 28 with quitting that horrible job and moving to the city I love continues.

I've retained a little bit of cynicism that I gained during 27 & 28, but that is slowly melting away as I get back on my game.

I'm in better shape now than I think I've ever been. My job is looking up after several really boring months. I do expect to find a new job in early 2007. For my 30th birthday, I want to make a nice trip somewhere and hopefully a few of my close friends will be able to go with me. I'm going to continue training and working out; I'm giving thought to trying to join one of the sports teams here in the city, like soccer, frisbee, or football.

So, anyway, it looks like it's going to be a good year.

Cheers!

Human Interest Story

Human Interest Story, I won't look at you.
I have no time for you.
That beard of bees, it has no power over me
I won't look at you.
I have no time for you.

Those are the lyrics to a funny song on a Dunkin Donuts commercial.

When I first saw the commercial, I didn't understand it because I didn't listen to the song.

After I listened to the song, I thought it was funny, but I couldn't remember what the commercial was advertising.

Now, I know it's Dunkin Donuts, and I love the commercial.

I can't say it's a really successful ad because of how hard it is to catch on to it and recall what I'm supposed to buy from it, but I love it. It cracks me up to see the little dogs getting married and the people lip synching to the song.

It just cracks me up!

WAY better than that Head On series of advertisements.

Come to Jesus

Whenever things come to a point where a confrontation is needed, when the pure and simple truth of reality can no longer be avoided it's time for a come to Jesus meeting.

When it comes to romance, along with a whole lot of really great and wonderful things, I bring a couple of pretty consistent errors in judgment.

First, I'm not very open about my feelings. I don't always voice my concerns about things. I also don't take compliments well. And I don't do a good job of voicing what value my partner brings to my life.

Clearly, these are issues that affect a person in more areas than just romance, so it's something I'm concentrating on in my life.

Second, I extend too much benefit of the doubt to other people and my incompatibility with me. That's a nice way of saying that I sometimes date people who aren't right for me even after I'm aware of the fact that they aren't right for me.

I'm not, as usual, going to go into details, but I ended another romance today.

Again, there are things about him I will miss and I learned a few things about myself and what I'm looking for in a relationship.

A while back, some of you may have seen a post that I removed later in the same day about this same relationship ending suddenly. It turned out to be a misunderstanding, but I was genuinely sad about it. I regretted what I think were mistakes I was making. Anyway, he and I worked through that conflict, but that obviously doesn't mean things could last.

Anyway, since then I came to the conclusion that he and I are not ultimately compatible. As a friend of mine put it: "If he's not the one, he's not the one."

But on the upside, I feel very liberated and confident in this decision. I also think that this marks a new chapter in terms of my romantic life and things are going to get better.

That is, naturally, up to me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

One of my good friends sent me this video in a happy birthday eCard.

Hilarious!

Thank you, Mama Laverne!

My Fat Belly

So, my weight training is going well. I'm building some muscle, but I do need to work out a couple more times a week to see better results.

But one thing I am not pleased about is that I'm getting a bit of a belly. It's not out of control or anything yet, but I can totally see it and I am not happy about it.

Ergo, I've started back running.

Interestingly, I'm not nearly as out of shape as I thought.

Today, I ran 6 miles in 52:16. That's not super fast, but the distance alone is an accomplishment for someone who hasn't been training at all.

Of course, now I'm sitting on my couch unwilling to get up even to get more water.

I just hope this belly thing gets gone with a quickness. I'm so not loving it.

Tropical Storm Ernesto Is Ruining My Birthday Weekend!

My boyfriend travels with his job and has been out of town this week. He was supposed to return last night to join me today to kick off the festivities with a spa day. Well, some schmuck on his project didn't complete his work on time -- the other guy actually showed up two DAYS late -- and so the BF has been rushing to finish his work and get back to the city. He should finish by noon today.

Unfortunately, the BF is in Virginia and is seeing Tropical Storm Ernesto right now. Flight cancellations and delays are predicted for DC airports where he is supposed to be this afternoon trying to get back here.

So, no spa day today.

Looking forward, we were supposed to go to the beach tomorrow -- right when the storm hits NYC.

So, no beach day tomorrow.

It's not a complete loss. We're going to do our spa day tomorrow while it's rainining. And on Sunday, the weather is supposed to clear a bit when we're going to see Avenue Q on Broadway and then dinner at a nice restaurant with a view of the city.

So, it won't be a complete loss.

I am disappointed that I took the day off of work to celebrate my birthday and I'm really just going to be cleaning my apartment.

Damn you, Tropical Storm Ernesto!