Don't laugh at me
I just read this article on Yahoo, and I think this invention is absolutely brilliant. Read the article and I will explain at the end.Cordless jump-rope can help the clumsy
By SETH BORENSTEIN, AP Science WriterTue May 30, 7:50 AM ET
If you think keeping fit is merely mind over matter, Lester Clancy has an invention for you — a cordless jump-rope. That's right, a jump-rope minus the rope. All that's left is two handles, so you jump over the pretend rope. Or if you are truly lazy, you can pretend to jump over the pretend rope.
And for that idea kicking around Clancy's head since 1988, the U.S. Patent Office this month awarded the 52-year-old Mansfield, Ohio, man a patent. Its number: 7037243.
What makes this invention work is the moving weights inside the handles. They simulate the feel of a rope moving, Clancy said. Well, it's only one handle so far because Clancy is waiting for financial backers before building its partner.
But why jump rope without a rope?
It's perfect for the clumsy, Clancy said. "If you are still jumping, you're still using your legs as well as your arms, and getting the cardiovascular workout. You just don't have to worry about tripping on the rope."
It is also good for mental institutions and prisons where rope is a suicide risk, said Clancy, who works as a laundry coordinator in a state prison. And low ceiling fans aren't a hazard any more, he said.
Daniel Wright, who features the cordless jump-rope on his Web site http://www.patentlysilly.com, can barely talk about Clancy's invention without laughing.
"What really grabbed me," Wright said, was the name the item has in its patent, Wright said.
The idea isn't all that crazy, said Mike Ernst, a professor of kinesiology at California State University in Dominguez Hills.
"I think it's silly but at the same time if somehow, some way it promotes physical activity, gets kids active, then I'm all for it," Ernst said.
The more he thought about it, the more Ernst said he could see the benefit, adding that the act of jumping, not the rope itself, is what provides exercise.
"Do you need to jump with a rope? You don't," Ernst said. "But I wouldn't buy the product, I can tell you that. I'm not an idiot."
High-tech handles aren't needed. You could even use toilet paper holders, Ernst said. On second thought, he wondered if he could patent that idea.
I love this idea. You see, not many people know this about me, but I was born with a birth defect and I couldn't walk until I was three years old. I wore braces on my legs for years and wore orthopedic shoes until junior high. I still look strange when I walk, but that's OK.
Because I didn't walk very well when I was little, I didn't learn a lot of things that other kids learned. I sucked at hopscotch. I learned to skip my freshman year of college. And I never learned to jump rope. In fact, I flunked high school gym because I couldn't jump rope. I tried and tried but I couldn't do. I'm sure it was partly the psychological stigma of being 15 years old and having 30 of your total bitch classmates staring at you like you were an idiot because you couldn't do it and partly because my legs still couldn't do it just right.
When I was in kindergarten my mom knew exactly when the school would call her every week. It would be during gym class, and it would be because every time I ran I would fall flat on my face. I don't remember the kids in kindergarten being particularly mean, but I was young. But the older I got, the meaner the other kids got. I didn't ever want to do gym class, especially if it meant running in front of people. And oh my goodness, when they tried to teach us to play soccer? My legs just didn't work right and I've always been ashamed. I guess some things about that are good. I spent less time focusing on athletics and studied while other kids played outside. Of course, since I started doing that I've always been heavy. I graduated at the top of my class (well, 11th and only due to a technicality, but we don't like to talk about that. Failing 9th grade P.E. didn't help, I'm sure.) and I got a great college education. But now I need to lose about 60 pounds. You'll have that, I guess.
I was 23 years old before I had the courage to run in front of people. I ran into Sr. Kathy, my grade school P.E. teacher right before I did the Detroit Free Press half-marathon. She almost fell off her chair when I told her. My personal trainer told me I was a fit person under a layer of fat. It makes sense. I know I have an athletic build somewhere in there, I come from a family of athletes. I just happened to have legs that didn't work just right. I tried to do athletics. I was good at volleyball. But one day I missed a pretty easy volley and the coach made me run laps as punishment. (Or as they call it in Catholic school, "discipline.") I ran a few laps and finally ran past my gym bag and out the door. I didn't stop running until I reached a friend's house. I just had so many hang-ups about people laughing at how I ran. Whether they were real or perceived, I'm not sure as I look back on it. My best guess is a little of both. I can remember some people making comments about how I walked, but I'm not sure that EVERYONE busted out in peals of laughter every time I was in a relay.
I guess my point is that I think this invention is a splendid idea. People do not understand how I felt not being able to participate in the same activities as other kids my age. Not to mention that I still struggle with my weight 20-some years later because there weren't activities I could do.
I am pretty damn sure if there had been a jump rope that didn't really have a rope that I could've done it. Jumping rope is very good for you. Maybe I'd have been more fit. Maybe I'd have passed 9th grade gym.
And then maybe I wouldn't have been 11th in my class (because of a technicality).
OK, this is more like it....
I had an excellent time on Saturday. I wrote a big, long review for KennyLand, but unfortunately I can't find some way for y'all to see it without reposting the entire thing here. Hmmmmmm...I will mull that over.
Alexis and I had a very fun time. The MASSIVE amount of rum I consumed surely helped. I didn't drink to cope or anything; I just drank because there was rum and pineapple juice and ice, and it was yummy. No agenda there. And besides, everyone told me I was funny.
Well, except for this one girl who wanted to fight me. She didn't find me funny. But that's OK, I thought she dressed like a hooker and she was rude. She was standing on her chair and I couldn't see. I tried to ask politely SIX times, and she ignored me. So finally I tugged on her skirt (Yes, she was the kind of girl who wore a skirt to a concert.) I explained to her that she needed to get off her chair before I went and got someone who would get her off her chair. She got in my face and started screaming at me. Finally she backed down, but I really thought she might punch me. I asked Alexis why she didn't have my back, and she told me that it was because someone was watching the whole thing and she wanted him to rescue me.
But other than that, not much happened. There were people much more important than me who needed to be entertained by The Boy with Yellow Hair. I knew it would be busy with the first stadium show, not to mention that it was an awful travel weekend. I think I saw him for about 6 minutes outside of the show. I don't think he left my sight once the lights went down, but he was very busy working. Honestly, it was the best show ever, and it met every single expectation I had. I knew this was a bad weekend to go up there. But I got to see him and he looks good (even with yellow hair!) and I had a great time catching up with my friends.
I'm surprisingly OK with nothing happening. In fact, I've decided that it's probably best if nothing happens until September. He is so dedicated to his job, and that comes first all summer. I know this. It's not a shocker. In fact, it's a huge reason I was attracted to him in the first place. He'd do anything for his boss. They're very good friends in addition to being employer and employee. He's not the type to half-ass anything, so I can see why he doesn't want to dive into a relationship right now. And frankly, I'm not sure that once I get my hands on him that I want to share.
And maybe it doesn't happen. That's OK too. It's not like I'm sitting here waiting for him. If someone else came along, I'd entertain his offer. He knows how I feel and he knows where to find me. He's come looking several times now, and even though it doesn't seem like anything huge at this point, the potential is definitely there.
This might sound odd, but I had a little heart-to-heart with St. Anne, and I really think that this time I'm supposed to try to do things right. You see, I had a friend who went out with one of these guys once, and she thought they were serious and he thought she was a steady piece of ass while he was out on the road. That scares the shit out of me. I don't want that to happen to me. I know I don't look the part, but that's not even the issue. I just don't want to seem disposable. I have so many issues with waiting out by the busses. First of all fans are crazy. Every single one of them. It gave me the heebie jeebies standing over there. I just don't get the fascination with seeing Uncle Kracker waving at you as he goes to lunch. Oh. My. God. Did you not know that Matt Shafer eats?
And God forbid someone should realize that you know people that have laminates. This young kid saw me talking to my friend that drives for the tour. Now, bless his heart for coming to the show by himself, buying a ticket that morning and for dressing like a little cowboy himself. But he was hell-bent on getting his hat signed, and these days that's a tall order. It's almost impossible to get back stage, and security's generally pretty tight. So, unless you have great seats, you're not going to get anything signed.
I'm pretending that I'm clueless too, and I'm trying to convince him to stop asking me questions and try his hand at winning some sandbar passes from the local radio deejay.
Well, lo and behold who walks right in front of us, giving about 25 arena people in their little "security" polo shirts their final run-through. And Alexis, not realizing that I'm fighting off someone with a case of "laminate fever," mentions that he is now in our vicinity.
This is an actual transcript of that conversation:
Laura waves at TBWYH. Laminate Fever Boy notices.
Dammit!
Laminate Fever Boy: Who's that?
Laura: My friend.
LFB: Can he get me sandbar passes?
L: Ummmm, no. He's not important enough to get sandbar passes.
LFB (in a confused voice): Hmmm...well, OK, I'm gonna go now.
L: Yeah, so am I.
Anyhow, we went to the show. People looked hot. People looked at me. The Boss Man waved and smiled at me. We met up with some friends. We watched the best show ever. We went back to the hotel and stayed up half the night talking.
We woke up Sunday morning and ended up going out to lunch before heading home so I could go to about 800 redneck graduation parties, which are only slightly better than redneck weddings. At least none of the honorees had their own kids at those shindigs.
At least not this year.
Whew!
I am home.
I am tired.
I am trying to figure out exactly what I want to say.
More to follow. I think.
Today's
song of the day:
"Underneath Your Clothes" by Shakira.
Picture of the day is from Tortola. Even if I'm not getting there anytime soon, at least someone lets me pretend for a few hours every once in a while!
The pre-game show (Or is it the pre-show game?)
So, Saturday Alexis and I are going on an adventure.
As you all know, I had never planned to see everyone's favorite cowboy when he came to Columbus because I thought that I would be moved by then.
Well, once I knew I wasn't moving until the end of May, I decided that I should go. Alexis and I did some sleuthing and snagged us some 12th row seats. I normally don't ever buy tickets from brokers, but they were only $4 above face value, so it wasn't too traumatic.
And I planned a surprise for someone. But since it's a surprise, I really can't tell you what it is. If it works out, maybe I'll have something to say when I get back.
Or maybe I'll just be coy and squeal like a girl and keep it to myself like I have been so often lately. I guess as excited as I am for all the cool things in my life, there are some things for which I don't really want to have an audience.
That's how it should be, I think.
But before I can go spend the weekend at a show, there's so much that I end up doing.
I went tanning and I now am a nice shade of brown all over. I didn't get burned at all. I absolutely love my new tanning place. I hope I can find one this nice when I get to TN.
Tomorrow I go to get my hair cut and my nails done. (Which I needed to do anyhow.)
I bought new pants, but I also needed those because I never did find my old khakis that were missing.
I went to Bath & Body Works because I had a coupon to get my islandy-smelling body lotion free if I bought the matching shower gel. But nothing is really free at Bath & Body Works. I was so proud of myself for just getting what was on my list and using my coupon. So as I'm checking out the girl at the counter tells me that for an extra $15, I can get this really cool beach bag that has two special-edition lotions (that you can only get in the beach bag) inside. Well, wouldn't you know that I absolutely love the lotion. Anyhow, the bag is really cute and I'm sure I can find something to do with it. If nothing else I can use it as a tote to take to work once I have work again.
Anyhow, it's a cute bag.
We'll see how the surprise goes over. I'm happy with it, if no one else is.
Just because I need a vacation...
Is there anywhere better in the world than a hammock on White Bay on a lazy afternoon?
It's nice to be loved!
So, I got an email last night. It's from a headhunter who said I came highly recommended for a job that she had. It'd be a fabulous job if it weren't in San Francisco. I know the cost of living there is through the roof and I don't know anyone there except my cousin (although I believe Toma lives 2 hours away). I've never given ANY thought to San Fran except that I repeatedly promise Bev that I'm coming to visit and have NEVER made it there. And besides, Nashville feels like home. And I paid a deposit and June's rent already.
So, this gives me hope that there are people out there who want to hire me. I have lots of job leads and plenty of resumes to send out today, so hopefully this gal who emailed me is not the only person who thinks I'm fabulous. I never heard back on the other interview I had in Nashville, but I didn't have a feeling about it either way, so I'm guessing they might've went with someone else. That's fine if they did. I KNOW the right position is out there just waiting for me.
Today I had to help my dad clean the church hall after last night's bingo. First of all, I want to say that it is easier to clean up after my 3-5 year olds in Sunday School than grown ladies who play bingo. It was disgusting. There was ink from those bingo markers, cigarette ashes and pizza grease all over everything. One chair even had sticky Pepsi residue all over the back of the seat. How EXACTLY does someone do that?
I'm not a particularly a big fan of cleaning up after myself, so I'm not sure why anyone thought I would be pleasant if I had to get up first thing in the morning and clean up after other people, who are apparently chain-smoking little piggies. Needless to say, I was not very good at this task. So then I had to hear from my father about how he was such a bad dad because he didn't teach us basic life skills and here I am hopeless and I don't know a variety of jobs and I'm never going to find work yadda yadda (that's where I tuned him out).
It's not that I don't know how to clean. I just hate it. I went to college so I didn't have to clean pepsi off other people's chairs.
Or wash ashtrays. That's disgusting. I know the current object of my affection is a smoker, but I hope he realizes that I clean no one's ashtrays. And if I have to do it, I am going to bitch. That's just how it has to be.
It's nice to be loved!
So, I got an email last night. It's from a headhunter who said I came highly recommended for a job that she had. It'd be a fabulous job if it weren't in San Francisco. I know the cost of living there is through the roof and I don't know anyone there except my cousin (although I believe Toma lives 2 hours away). I've never given ANY thought to San Fran except that I repeatedly promise Bev that I'm coming to visit and have NEVER made it there. And besides, Nashville feels like home. And I paid a deposit and June's rent already.
So, this gives me hope that there are people out there who want to hire me. I have lots of job leads and plenty of resumes to send out today, so hopefully this gal who emailed me is not the only person who thinks I'm fabulous. I never heard back on the other interview I had in Nashville, but I didn't have a feeling about it either way, so I'm guessing they might've went with someone else. That's fine if they did. I KNOW the right position is out there just waiting for me.
Today I had to help my dad clean the church hall after last night's bingo. First of all, I want to say that it is easier to clean up after my 3-5 year olds in Sunday School than grown ladies who play bingo. It was disgusting. There was ink from those bingo markers, cigarette ashes and pizza grease all over everything. One chair even had sticky Pepsi residue all over the back of the seat. How EXACTLY does someone do that?
I'm not a particularly a big fan of cleaning up after myself, so I'm not sure why anyone thought I would be pleasant if I had to get up first thing in the morning and clean up after other people, who are apparently chain-smoking little piggies. Needless to say, I was not very good at this task. So then I had to hear from my father about how he was such a bad dad because he didn't teach us basic life skills and here I am hopeless and I don't know a variety of jobs and I'm never going to find work yadda yadda (that's where I tuned him out).
It's not that I don't know how to clean. I just hate it. I went to college so I didn't have to clean pepsi off other people's chairs.
Or wash ashtrays. That's disgusting. I know the current object of my affection is a smoker, but I hope he realizes that I clean no one's ashtrays. And if I have to do it, I am going to bitch. That's just how it has to be.
Speaking of weddings...
This is the dress that I will be wearing for my brother's wedding to Srta. Benitez next year.
I think it's pretty.
Last one, I promise!! (At least for today!)
Considering all the weddings I've gone too lately and having to be a bridesmaid for my brother's wedding and being so excited about that (at least I like the dress, pic will follow!), I thought this was a fun quiz, and right-on except for being influenced by celebrities. I think weddings should be about the two people getting married without all the cooks in the kitchen. So unless I marry someone who HAS to have a huge, giant wedding with every 3rd cousin from all over the world, I don't plan to have anything too fancy.
After all, All you need is love.
| You Will Be a Modern Bride! |
While you aren't ready to throw away all wedding traditions, you want a wedding with a twist
You're more inspired by celebrity weddings on E! than from bridal magazines
Whether this means getting married on the beach barefoot or a mariachi band for the reception...
Your wedding will be a blend of old and new - white dress cocktail, personalied vows, whatever suites you!!! |
Borrowed from CoffeeBigPlz...
We haven't had a Blogthings fest lately. This was fun!
| You are Maryiln Monroe |
A classic tortured beauty
You're the dream girl of many men
Yet they never seem to treat you right |
A tag I don't mind doing...
Today I was thinking of doing something like this, so funny that I got tagged. I'm gonna go ahead and do it.
The RULES
The first player of this game starts with the "6 weird things/habits about themselves" and people who get tagged need to write a blog of their six weird habits/things, as well as state the rules clearly (copy/paste works). In the end, you need to choose six people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment for them stating they're tagged and that they need to read yours...
1. I am obsessed with finding Jimmy Hoffa. When I first went back to Detroit, I worked across the street from Machus' Bakery. Yes, the same Machus family that owned the Red Fox where Hoffa was last seen alive. The older gal who sold me my raspberry cream cheese brownie everyday worked in the restaurant before it closed and got me hooked on all the Hoffa folklore. I love a good Hoffa lead, and it KILLS me that I'm missing all the excitement right now. The FBI came on someone's property and knocked their barn down just to check.
2. I have a bizarre fear of having to go to the bathroom while I'm in the tanning bed. I'm not sure what you're supposed to do if that happens. Soooo, I always go even before I get in the bed for just a few minutes. Everyone thinks that's odd.
3. I took 9 years of Spanish (high school and college) and I can't do much more than order Mexican food. I am getting better with Estela around though.
4. I love to ride around singing Kid Rock at the top of my lungs with my windows down, simply because people don't expect me to do it.
5. I have an odd sense of humor. I love to make fun of people I care about. One time in college, my roommate asked me if I were pissed off at her. I asked her why she thought that, and she said it was because I hadn't made any rude-ass comments to her all week.
6. I've mentioned my Bath & Body Works addiction, but I don't think I've ever mentioned that I cannot mix and match fragrances there. If I'm going to wear Mango Mandarin, everything is Mango Mandarin -- soap, shower gel, lotion. I couldn't EVER wear another scent of lotion after using Mango Mandarin soap!
I can't remember who Kenzie tagged, so if she tagged you, just ignore me. But I'm going to tag Toma, Rosalie, One4JC and CoffeeBigPlz.
And yes, that's not 6. Bite me.
I'm blogging so I won't eat...
I'll admit it. I'm a stress eater. And right now, the other half of my sandwich from Subway (the new Tuscan chicken; it's great) and a chocolate chip cookie my dad didn't eat are calling my name.
I'm stressed out. Last night I went into a full-fledged panic attack about my financial situation before I realized that my unemployment check for this week hadn't been deposited yet. Not that it's much better now that it has, but the situation is less precarious than it was 12 hours ago.
I am worried I'll run out of money and/or unemployment before I find a job. It's a serious worry that bothers me everyday. I know when I get to Nashville I will work 2-3 jobs if I have to just to make ends meet. That's not ideal, but I can do it if I must. I'd really like to find a job that is the right career fit.
I know it's crazy to pack up and move to a strange city with no job. Don't think that I'm not worried about it. But the chances of me finding a job there are significantly greater than my chances here.
Today I got a lecture from my dad about all kinds of things, but the main thing was that my siblings and I have no commitment to family. You know what? My parents are both retired. They can live on a farm in the middle of nowhere and not worry about the shitty job market. I can't. I'm 30 years old and I live in an area that has had TWO jobs for which I've been qualified since I got laid off in January. Two. I had more interviews than that in Nashville last week. And my career counselor Chris told me that both of those jobs had more than 500 applicants each. Yeah, this is a real land of opportunity. Maybe it's not my brothers and I who are awful people for leaving to find jobs, maybe my parents should think about who would move to this area if they wanted their four children to live here and start families. The schools are not good, so I couldn't ever settle down and have kids here.
Nashville is one hour further from here than Detroit was. It is a very nice drive. It's not like I'm moving to Mars. It'd be a long car trip, but I could make it in a weekend. If I plan far enough ahead, the airfare from Columbus to Nashville on Southwest is very reasonable.
Even if my parents weren't making me insane, I can't stay here. I don't want to rethink my career choice. I know why I've had a series of professional mis-steps alon the way. I should've followed my heart when I graduated and headed to Nashville instead of Detroit. I'd probably be a lot further ahead of the curve right now.
I have a headache from worrying about everything. I guess I just wish that just for once someone would support me in my career (or really any decision that I've made). It's hard enough to uproot your life to a strange city with no guaranteed income when your family IS behind you every step of the way. Imagine if they think you're stupid or just refuse to admit that you're leaving.
Who knew getting old could be so fun?
My allergies are killing me, so it's just about bedtime. Just a few things before bed.
On Saturday I had to take my dad to my cousin's wedding, which was another redneck shindig to make our family proud. I don't understand why everyone thinks that I'm funny when I tell them that if I ever get married, I am eloping and when I get back everyone can bring an ice-cold 6 pack and a covered dish to a little partay. Maybe they are just laughing at the thought of me getting married. One thing is for sure: When I get married, I am not going to take a can of Miller Lite with me onto the dance floor for my first dance. I can't wait to see those pictures.
My birthday was good, but I overate in ways I never believed were possible. We went to breakfast Sunday morning. Rusty and Heidi were there with the baby. Yay! He's so cute.
Later that day I went to a graduation party, and of course I got loaded down with a plate of food.
Then I arrive at my last RCIA class for church, which wasn't a class at all. Father made dinner for all of us. I tried to just take a little bite of each thing since I wasn't hungry AT ALL, but Father thought I didn't like it. So, I ate more to show him I was enjoying it. OMG, I didn't think I could ever eat again.
On the plus side, tiramisu for dessert? On my birthday? Wooohoooo!!!!
I love my new tanning place so much, I want to marry it. Honestly, I am back to tanning and I feel great and I'm not burned all over. And I won't be pasty white on Saturday.
Oh yes, Saturday. Everything is coming along well. All the plans are finalized. I'm just waiting to hear if Alexis can come or not, but I have a couple of other folks who are interested if she can't make it. Kayla says it doesn't matter who it is, as long as they are a good wingman! That's funny!
It's my birfday!!!
I can't write much because I'm going to breakfast for my birthday.
Yes, it's today. The big 3-0. Or as I like to call it: 29 and a bonus ball.
I went out last night for my birthday (after my cousin's wedding). Both events were filled with colorful characters and interesting moments, so expect me to write more later when I have time.
In the meantime, my
song of the day is "My Next Thirty Years" from Phil Vassar's Greatest Hits CD. I didn't realize he wrote that until I got this CD. I like Timmy McG, but I only bought his 2nd greatest hits CD from iTunes, so his version is not on the lappy.
Venting...
This post probably won't make sense to anyone but me and maybe a few of my friends. That's OK because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Really, I am too freaking nice. That's the whole problem here.
Somedays I just want to scream. I don't know how many ways to say "I don't care," "I'd rather not have this conversation," "Does it really effing matter?" "Why do you care? What the hell is your problem?"
I. Don't. Care.
I never have. The chances that I ever will have increased somewhat lately, but really it works best if I don't care. And honestly, if I feel compelled to care, then that means the rules have changed and I won't be able to discuss it with you. I wonder if people are truly ready for that day.
You see, I have this friend. She always wants to talk about a certain topic. Talk is really not the word. She likes to pick EVERYTHING about a certain topic all to hell. I have no idea why she thought I'd be the person to have these conversations with her, because I really have nothing to contribute. Mostly because I don't care, but also partly because it's in my best interest to not be interested. (Did that makes sense? It did to me.)
Maybe it's because I am a very nice person -- too nice, really -- and she knows I won't tell her to shut the fuck up, even though that's what I'm thinking. And in those words. I really don't think there's a better way to end a conversation when it pisses you off then by saying: "Shut the fuck up." Too bad I'm way too nice to ever do that.
I feel bad because I do like this person, but I am annoyed as hell by this. I have politely tried to tell her I wasn't interested and would talk to her about anything else and she takes it very personally. Ummmmkay, that's healthy. I'm getting to the point where I dread talking to her because I don't have the energy for it. And THAT should never happen with your friends. It's a very bad sign.
I think the biggest reason it's making me uncomfortable is that it's starting to remind me of someone else, and I am starting not to trust her. I'm starting to wonder if she has an agenda. I'm starting to wonder if she might not be entirely with the program. The e-mails and the converstations are eerily familiar. She doesn't make the same claims (maybe only because she knows I'd NEVER believe that?!) but sometimes she says stuff and I think, "Holy shit, I'm not sure about this." I can't go down that road -- or any road with any type of similarities to that road -- again. I am still not sure if I can "fix" any damage that may have occurred from all that. And I never, ever want to be in that situation again.
And truth be told, if you want to put me there, you are not my friend. I think that one of my biggest issues with last year is that if I hadn't been completely and totally hosed, then everything that is happening in my life RIGHT NOW could've happened a year ago.
I'm not going down that road again. I'm not doing anything that even appears to be going down that road again. There are conversations that I simply won't have. I don't have the energy. And I'm not throwing everything away and getting caught up in another round of bullshit. Partly because my life is where I want it to be and I'm not going to put that on the back burner for anyone this time. And partly because it wasn't really very pleasant last year, and I have no desire to go back there.
Now, how do I say that? Because something is getting lost in translation when I try ...
"Better than yesterday" is not necessarily good...
So, here we are. Friday. A new day. The follow-up to a complete shit day.
Today was better than yesterday, but when a day completely and totally sucks, is it really hard to top it? Ummmm...no.
After Thursday's pants-trying-on adventure and my massive depression from the realization that my thighs are huge and pasty and now seem to have developed cellulite. How the hell did that happen?!? My friends all said they didn't get cellulite until they were 30. I guess it's just one more birthday present because I noticed for the first time yesterday that I have some gross, dimply fat thing going on. Seriously, I even have knee fat. How did that happen? I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that using my running shoes for more than just a door stop would help.
So, Friday morning started at the doctor's office for that oh-so-fun annual exam. Yay, good times!!! It's even more fun when you have no insurance and have to pay for that bitch out of your own pocket. Dang.
This was a new doctor. And she was one of those doctors who believes in being healthy all over. This generally means a lecture when you're so fat you have knee fat. I got not only a lecture, but an ultimatum.
The diagnosis:
Drink more water. Lots more water. Nothing else, really. (I was very dehydrated when I got there today.)
Walk everyday.
Eat lots of fruits and veggies and make smart choices.
These are all things I try to do. Except sometimes I am lazy. But now I am lazy with knee fat, so something's going to have to change.
And, of course, there is always the ultimatum: My sneaky doctor wrote my prescription for three months and told me that I needed to lose weight and bring my BP down (It wasn't that bad. It's always been a little higher than normal and I live in stress city right now.) in the next three months or she will reconsider my prescription. Of course, one could make the argument that if I do everything she tells me to I will lose weight and be hotter and significantly increase my chances of getting laid, thus needing the prescription that is currently really nothing more than an expensive Tic-Tac. Well, an expensive Tic-Tac that makes me less like a bitch and more like a normal person. So, trust me, you all benefit from me getting my daily dose of hormones.
After the doctor, I went to my aunt's work and helped out while the fill-in girl for today was at lunch. I bought a few baked goods from the kids at the special school that shares the building with them. The diet will start AFTER cake and ice cream day Sunday. Honestly, first thing Monday morning I will be eating only grapefruits and salads. Yummmmmy.
Lastly, I drove about an hour away to go to a town with a few more stores than Wal-mart to see if I could find pants. I did have a specific pair of khaki capris that I wanted to get for next weekend. (Skorts are out because of the knee fat situation.) I finally found them in my size just as I was giving up. Now to find a shirt to go with them...
I'm still trying to figure out what to say about next weekend. I guess really at this point, since it's a surprise I really shouldn't give out any details. I think it'll be tons of fun. If nothing else, I've got great pants.
It would be wrong to make "Is This Love" the
song of the day again today. But needless to say, all the girlies that know about THE dream need to put this on the list of details. While it wasn't in the original dream, this is one detail that can't be overlooked if that whole thing actually happens.
So, song of the day is "What's Left of Me" from Nick Lachey's new CD of the same name. Wow, Jessica Simpson is a huge bitch. Poor guy.
I feel like I'm cheating on the girls who do my hair, but I've found a new fake and bake and I love it. The beds are a lot better. I didn't even burn my boobs on the first try! Not like anyone's going to see the frighteningly white parts of my body...
Not exactly better, but not completely hopeless either...
In case you missed it: I had a bad day.
Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, and I didn't want anyone to worry about me. I'll be OK. Honest. I just needed to vent.
Seriously, maybe I need to start at the beginning. Even before I got my daily lecture about HOW MUCH I SUCK, I was already thinking about it because I am too fat for my pants, which caused this downward spiral of stinkin' thinkin' and, oh well, I don't want to get into it now.
It was just a shitty day. I'm busy and I don't need people's lip. No worries, though, OK? It's all gonna work out.
In fact, it's going to be fan-fucking-tastic!
(Oh, and PS. Sorry about the f-words. I'm still in a mood.)
Just in case there was any confusion...
I am moving. I am moving to Nashville. Nashville is in Tennessee. I am moving in two weeks. If I do not have a job when I depart Ohio, I will have one shortly after I arrive. And frankly, I'd rather live in a homeless shelter in Nashville than spend one more day here. That is good, because looking at my bank balance that seriously could be what happens.
I am completely and totally fed up with everyone thinking they know what's best for me. I just need help moving my shit. To my new home. In my new city. Where I will find my new job. I do not need to hear how you wouldn't have a roommate or how you think I need a job or how you think I should just rent furniture. I need people to finally for once in my fucking life treat me like a person and help me when they promise.
Is that too fucking much to ask?!?? Apparently, it is.
I am in the throes of a nervous breakdown. I've had a very shitty day. I was going to start at the beginning and tell the whole sordid story, but frankly I've stopped caring. As usual. My give a damn is perpetually busted, for those who haven't noticed.
It's no wonder I'm so damaged. It's amazing that I've made it almost 30 years without offing myself. Of course, today I realized that the only reason I probably haven't committed suicide is because it's not what the perfect people do.
I realize that none of this probably makes sense. Maybe someday I'll explain it. But right now I need to look for a job and cry.
It's so good, it's bad...
iTunes are the devil.
As you all know (I hate surprises.), I got a $50 iTunes card for my birthday. Of course, I had to register for iTunes and give them my Visa number as a back-up in case I ran out of money buying my $50 worth of music. Can I just tell you how dangerous it is to have music-on-demand hooked into my Visa card.
Repeat after me: I must not buy all kinds of crap I do not need on iTunes.
My purchases with my $50 (very smart, in my opinion):
Nick Lachey's new CD
Timmy McG's Greatest Hits No. 2
Phil Vassar's greatest hits
Danielle Peck
Bob Marley Legend
I spent about $1.50 of my own money, so that was good. I just know about a dozen other CDs I want. And it's just very tempting to just buy them, even though I'm really poor right now.
Anyhoo, as I was listening, I realized that I haven't had a
song of the day for ages. It would probably help to post everyday, but you'll have that.
Sometimes a song just fits your mood. And where I am today is "Is This Love" by Bob Marley. And because Google was kind (or maybe not, depending on how you feel), you get a video song of the day.
Music Video Codes By VideoCode.ORG
An announcement...
I have good news and bad news.
Bad news first.
Arby's has discontinued their jalapeno poppers.The good news?
I never have to go to Arby's ever again!!!!!! That was the only good thing on their menu. It honestly took me a lot of time to find something to go with my jalapeno poppers. Their gyro? Ugggh.
So, in my ongoing quest to get thin and avoid fast food like the plague, I can cross Arby's off my list. Now if Sonic gets rid of chili-cheese fries and coconut cream pie shakes and the Chinese buffet stops serving egg rolls, I will be all set.
From the e-mail files...
I very rarely read e-mail forwards. I just don't have the time, and I hate the peer pressure of thinking that I need to forward them on and continue the vicious cycle. So nine times out of 10, I don't even read them. Yes, that's not the best policy, but it works for me.
Something made me read a forward the other day, and not only did I enjoy it, but I wanted to share it with folks. Luckily for all of you I am just posting it without forwarding it and clogging your inboxes and stealing your precious bandwidth.
I believe that what goes around comes around. I guess in a strange way (being that I'm a Christian and all) I kind of believe in karma. I just believe if you don't treat people well, it will bite you in the ass later.
This, I thought, summed it all up.
I am a bad blogger.
I suck at blogging right now. I guess it's partly because I have nothing to report. Perhaps it's because I'm kind of busy with moving and attempting to rejoin the ranks of the employed. I'm a pretty boring person, really. There's also stuff I'm just not talking about yet.
Let me give you some snippets of what's going on in my crazy life before y'all send out the search party.
First of all, moving. I am shooting to be a resident of Music City by June 1, at the latest. I am working very hard to make that happen. We will see. I don't know how much I told you all about where I am living. I found an absolutely great house that I'll be sharing with this gal Carol and her dog. It's absolutely the best neighborhood in Nashville, close to everything. And plenty of space for both of us. And, of course, Carol made it quite clear that she's looking for more of an urban family a la Bridget Jones and less of a person that will just stay in their room and not try to interact with others. So many people I talked to were like that, and I'm way too social for that kind of environment. And frankly, having a roommate forces me to be social and get out and meet new people, which is what I need. I'm still quite panicked that I'm not going to find a job and run out of money, but I think that if I work hard I'll be just fine.
Secondly, I don't know if y'all noticed this, but I am turning 30 this week. (Or, as I like to call it, "29 with a bonus ball.") Honestly, I'm not too devastated about turning 30 even though I find it's yet another milestone birthday where I am pushing all my major accomplishments back. I've done a lot in my 30 years, but there's still so much to be done. There are plenty of lists of
things to do before you're 30, and I haven't done them all. Nor do I think I can get everything done in the next week. Everyone's been asking me what I wanted for my birthday, and
I even made up one of those Amazon.com wish lists, which was kind of fun. I don't think I'll get a single thing on it, but it's a lot of fun. And you never know when someone is going to surprise you.
I know what my wish is going to be when I blow out my candles, assuming anyone remembers to get me a cake... Of course, it's customary to not tell what that wish is anyhow, or it won't come true.
Remember how I was worried that going to Nashville would cause feelings about the ex to resurface? Well, they have, but it's not the ex that I expected it to be. It's a few of my ex-friends. I know that sounds so odd. Maybe it's spending 8 hours in the car. Maybe it's that long stretch of road between Louisville and Nashville on I-65. Maybe it's all the reminders of little stories that I see as I drive around town. Reminders of things that weren't quite true. So then I think about the things that I
know are lies and half-truths. Then I wonder about the things that just don't seem to make sense if everything else is a lie. All I know for sure is the people I have seen with my own eyes, the people I know are absolutely, positively 100% who they say they are. And I know what those people have said. They have absolutely no reason to lie, and nothing to gain. I guess I'll never get it. I just hate when I get these nagging feelings about the whole thing. Maybe it's because I did have a lot of good memories along with the bad. I have a lot of tolerance when I care for someone. Honestly to this day if people would just cut the bull shit and just try to be good friends, I would probably consider it. Now, I probably think that because I know it will never happen. It's easy to say that when you know it will never happen.
But I guess that's OK. After all I'm supposed to whittle my group of friends down only to people I like before I'm 30. And for the most part I have done that. Of course, you'll always have those friends who think that you are this great friend to them, when really you only tolerate them. But that's for another day.
Lastly, the girls and I are finally getting to the point where we can plan our trip to the Caribbean. I may still get there before, but officially we're ALL planning to go next year. It'll be a lot of fun, and I hope we don't end up in jail.
In honor of that trip, here is my picture of the day:
The truth about the interview...
So, I'm sitting here watching Bridget Jones finally getting to the post I promised about yesterday's adventures.
I had a great day. I got up very early to get ready for my interview, get checked out of my hotel and make the trek to the interview for the very exciting job.
I am not about to burn bridges in a new city quite yet, so I won't tell you the name of this place. However, since there's nothing left to jinx, I will give you the details so you have some background. I interviewed yesterday to be the PR/marketing assistant for an artist and his recording studio. The competition for this position was stiff, so to make it to the interview stage really was a major accomplishment. I know that every single person who's ever been rejected for a job comes up with that same bullshit answer to make themselves feel better, but it really is true here. There was absolutely nothing that I could've done differently.
I have to tell you about this interview because it was absolutely un-fucking-believable. Honestly, I got back in my car and said, "If nothing else, this will make one helluva story on the blog." So, here's the whole gory thing, straight from the top.
My interview was at 10:20 a.m. yesterday. At 10:15, I realized I wasn't going to be on time for a variety reasons. Mapquest lied. So did the studio's Web site that said it was "right off I-65." (If "right off" is code word for 10 miles!!) And lastly, I got behind one of those "gawker tour" buses. You know, the ones that go 5 miles per hour down 2-lane roads where you can't pass and slam on their brakes so all the tourists can stick their heads out the window and take pictures of someone who looks like Faith Hill buying lip gloss? So, I gave them a ring and told them I was running late. They told me no problem, everyone always gets lost on their way here. (Maybe it's because you tell them it's "right off" I-65?) And they were running late, too. It was all good.
So, finally I arrive at the studio. I was only 3 minutes late. I was impressed. So, I get there and I can't find a parking space ANYWHERE. I see this guy who looks vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place. I'm pretty sure he was some type of celebrity. (They did tell me that they had a "big" recording session, but never mentioned who it was, so I'm still clueless.) I asked him where to park and he was very helpful, telling me just to park behind his cute little sports car.
I go inside and they tell me they are still running late and to make myself at home. I do that, and I just chit-chat with some of the folks that aren't working on the recording session and are apparently in charge of entertaining me. We're having a good time, and I don't even realize how late it is. Until the NEXT interview candidate arrives, as well. Yes, they are now running so far behind that the first interview has flowed right into not only the second interview, but the third one too.
Finally, about 50 minutes late, the person who is interviewing me comes out. He tells me to go to his office and make myself comfortable and he'll be up in a few seconds.
The whole studio was absolutely beautiful and very homey. This office was fantastic. I can't imagine how he gets any work done there. He returns after a few minutes, and the interview begins.
I get the impression he doesn't interview folks very often for professional positions. He asked several questions that were pretty much illegal, but I can see how they are questions that would make a difference in a demanding recording industry career. He asked me all kinds of questions, but some of them were a little odd.
But then again, I've concluded that celebrities (even the ones who aren't particularly popular or well-known) are odd.
This is where it gets really odd. Finally, the interview says: "Here's the situation. That lady who was here before you? (The first interview.) She is phenomenal. She's been working in this field for years. She's worked for people who are bigger than me. Frankly, I think that I'm going to hire her. I'll be in touch if anything changes, but I wanted to wish you the best of luck in your career."
And we were done.
Huh?
I've been on both sides of interviews. Yes, I understand that sometimes people fall in love with the first person they interview, and that's fine. But it's a tad bit tacky to come out and say that. And what happens if SHE doesn't think HE's phenomenal? If she's that great, she might get other offers. Then what does he do if he had the same chit-chat with everyone else?
The job wasn't meant to be. Even though it'd be an excellent place to be for my career, I'm sure there are other positions that will be just as great. I really honestly have to look at the positives on this one.
1. It was a beautiful day to get out to the countryside of Middle Tennessee.
2. I obviously did nail my cover letter like Mary Lou Retton nails the balance beam.
3. Of all the people who applied, I did get an interview.
And he did say there was a lot of interest for the position and lots of qualified applicants. It's great that people seem to finally be impressed with my professional credentials. Everyone seems to think I'll have no problems finding a job, so that's great.
It truly, honestly was a learning experience. The studio was beautiful and most people will never get to see it in their lives, so how lucky am I?
And the last thing I learned, which was absolutely worth its weight in gold:
There is absolutely, positively no way that someone could drive from Louisville to Franklin on I-65 and have no idea where Cool Springs is.
Another quick one...
Well, I'd hoped to write you all the big, giant post I'd promised, but it's not happening right now.
Why? Because I got a call at about 8 p.m. last night, and Round Two of the craziness began.
Remember the dream job? Remember the cover letter I needed to nail like Mary Lou Retton on the vault? Well, apparently I did. Because out of the hundreds of applicants, I was chosen to come in for an interview today.
It's exciting, but I'm nervous as hell. Seriously, getting this job would be an ENORMOUS move for me professionally. I need to sell myself, but I think the sheer competition for the position is very intimidating. I am going to breathe deeply, say a little prayer, and know that if it's God's will everything will turn out perfectly. I think that all the mis-steps on this trip actually allowing me to be here for the interview is a very good sign. It's obviously where I'm supposed to be at this point in my life.
I just hope I don't puke. Because seriously, I want to.
In other related news, a housing update. I think I am officially not homeless anymore. Actually, technically not "officially," but pretty darn close. I met a great gal yesterday with an awesome place. Fantastic neighborhood. Like Lamar-Alexander-lives-down-the-street fantastic. (We'll work on that around election time!) Absolutely wonderful house. Very reasonable price. And someone that I'd be honored to call my friend and my roommate. The potential is definitely there.
Well, boys and girls, I must get ready for my interview now. Much to do in the next hour or so.
I promise a big, long update on all things Nashville when I get home tonight. Or maybe after I wake up in the morning...
Updates to follow...
Dear readers,
I have arrived in Nashville, at least for this week.
I have a job interview at 1 p.m. I'm highly qualified, but a little worried about what my former employers might say. I'm going to butter them up after the interview if it goes well and I need them to say nice things.
The place I was supposed to rent is not going to work out, so I am house-hunting while I'm here. I have some fantastic leads, so hopefully I will leave without being homeless. I also have a place we will call "Plan H." I don't have plans B-G yet, but I will find them before I go there. Eeek.
I have to go to Kinko's right now to print some things off because they didn't arrive before I left Ohio and I need them for my interview. I also need shoe polish because I had to change my suit choice (thank God I had two suits in my car!)
Plenty to do, not a lot of time. More updates will follow.
In the meantime, I leave you with this thought:
Just because you don't order plantains with your dinner, the Cubans are going to give them to you, and they are going to be icky because they're just bananas with a fancy name.
Stupid Things People Say
So my brother calls me yesterday.
"What do you want for your birthday?" he asks.
"Well, I have a whole list of CDs I need to buy. Tim McGraw's Greatest Hits, Phil Vassar's Greatest Hits, the new Nick Lachey CD, Live Trucker..." I reply.
His next question: "What's Live Trucker?"
Oh, that's just the best CD ever. Kid Rock. Live. Recorded in Detroit.
So he decides he is rushing off to buy Live Trucker. For himself.
And then he wants to know AGAIN what my list of CDs was. So I say, "How about you just buy me an iTunes gift card and I can get them myself."
My brother, who does very well for himself and has whatever his heart desires, knows nothing about iTunes and iPods. Now that I've told him, I'm sure he'll have a 60 GB iPod before dinner. He asks me where he can get one of these iTunes cards. I tell him they have them pretty much anywhere or he can order it online at the Apple Store.
By this point in our conversation, my brother's truck (Big Blue, as he calls it) has arrived at Best Buy. So he decides to go see if they have one of these iTunes cards. (Duh, but whatever.)
So, he goes inside and asks the employee: "Do you have some of those iTunes gift cards?"
The guy replies (not making this up): "No, but we have these little cards that you buy for a pre-set amount that you can use on iTunes."
Hmmmm...wonder what they call those. Whatever they are, I've got $50 of free music coming in the mail very soon. Watch out, Nick Lachey!!!!
Thought of the day...
I wonder if there is a statute of limitations on voice mails.
Say someone left you -- hypothetically, of course -- a really great voice mail. It didn't contain any crucial information, just a "Hi. I'm thinking of you. Bet you can't guess who this is" type of voice mail. Perhaps this person has a very sexy voice. Perhaps you just really needed this person to check in. Perhaps both.
How long do you keep that voice mail? It's not like you need to save it. It's not like it contains the answers to any of life's mysteries. But you listen to it and it makes you smile, and maybe squeal like a girl, just a little.
I wonder if my phone provider has a limit on how long I can save something there. If it will get deleted at some point. I guess it's OK if it does, since I'm mulling over whether I should delete it myself.
Some of you know that I've been known to watch DVDs or listen to a certain song on a certain CD to hear someone's voice, and this is more convenient. And, of course, on DVDs he never says my name with that little laugh in his voice. (And we should thank God for that every day.)
Oh, and since we're on that subject, exactly how many times can someone listen to a hypothetical voice mail like this without being totally pathetic?!?
The diet...
So, I went back on the diet this week. I haven't said anything because I try really hard to not make this a diet-exercise journal. Trust me, if I get really obsessed with calories and reps you will thank me for that later. Sometimes I get really OCD about it. That's a little bit of a good thing, little bit of a bad thing.
But I've been watching everything I eat lately. I haven't hauled my big, fat ass out for a walk yet, but I've got a list of excuses as long as my arm. (I'm working on that, really.) I will probably make it today if it ever manages to warm up. But right now I am cooooolllllddddd. See, another excuse.
I probably shouldn't make any excuses. You see, I'm not the only one on a diet. The Boy (yes, the one who
used to have yellow hair. It hasn't been yellow for a while. I keep thinking it'll turn up yellow again. I just find it odd that it's been yellow for years, I mention I don't like the yellow and now it's not yellow. Surely that is coincidental. I'm thinking he woke up one day and said "Holy shit, I'm in my 30s and I dye my hair yellow!" and stopped. Not because of me. Anyhow, I digress.) The Boy is on a diet, apparently. My friend Alexis has this little ritual that started somewhere last year. She has a friend from Hawaii who brought some cookies that are made there that all good Island Boys would love. So, at a show they decided that they were going to give some to the Princess. Well, what's a better way to get cookies to the Princess than to give them to his trusty right-hand man, right? Except the Princess, like me, is perpetually dieting. That's how he has abs you want to eat ice cream off of. Anyhow, according to the tale, they gave the cookies to The Boy to give to his boss. The Boy takes the cookies onto the bus. He comes back later with one of the band members. Both of them are covered in cookie crumbs and they tell the girls that the Priness really loves the cookies. No one's really sure if the Princess even knew about the cookies.
Anyhow, everytime Alexis sees The Boy now, she brings him cookies just for him since he likes them so much. When she saw him a few weeks ago, he just about knocked her over to get the cookies. Last night when she went to give him his cookies, he patted his tummy and told her he couldn't have them. He finally took them later in the evening and gave them to another guy on the crew, who seemed very excited to have them. So, The Boy isn't eating cookies? On a diet? Hmmmmm... He did look a little thinner in the most recent picture I've seen of him. (He also looked so effing hot I thought I'd pass out, but maybe that's a story for a different day. Maybe not.)
But, you see, if The Boy isn't eating cookies and is trying to lose weight, the pressure is on for me. Not that I didn't want to lose weight before, but if he is honestly putting effort in then I probably should too. He knows he's just fine the way he is; I've been the one worried that I wasn't just fine the way I am. Everyone tells me I am, but frankly they are my friends and they are supposed to love me just the way I am. Maybe I need meaner friends. I mean, I'll admit that I'm a very cute person. I'm just a cute person who needs to lose 50-80 pounds. Urggh.
All in all, I've done great this week. Of course, it's only the first week. I've been having delicious shakes (which are neither delicious or shakes, really) every morning plus a sensible lunch and dinner. Do I sound like an infomercial yet? My only indiscretion was a small order of chili cheese fries at Sonic yesterday. And I deserved it when I dropped a cherry limeaid on my brand new tan sandals, don't you think?
I just haven't been exercising. I know I should, but I always seem to find something better to do.
Oh well, I've always liked a little friendly competition. But when we get finished he better still look more like Kevin James and less like Lindsay Lohan.
I think I need to do yoga
On Caneel Bay.
When does our plane leave? Pretty soon if I can manage to get a job that will pay me what I'm worth. Wouldn't that be nice?
Why is it...
I am a great writer. I have awards to prove it. I have received the ultimate in PR recognition countless times -- that is, when a reporter uses your press release word-for-word and claims it as their own. (Yeah, it's probably not so ethical for them, but it shows that you are so awesome they don't need to change a thing.) I am good at my job. I have had folks see my work, track me down and beg me to work for them (also in a PR goddess' top-ten list). I got the only A in one of my reporting classes at the second-best journalism school in the country. I KNOW I do a good job. I KNOW I can write. Hell, this blog has had more than 7,000 visitors since September. Really, that should tell me something.
So, WHY can't I write good cover letters? I feel like every cover letter I write is complete and total shit. Now, I suspect that perhaps they are not really awful, but it is more the fact that I am my own worst critic. God knows I think my "novel" sucks, and I have people begging for the next chapter. (It's coming soon, honest.) I also wonder if my cover letter inadequacy stems from the fact that a cover letter is the place where you have to toot your own horn, and I am not very good at that. I'm working on my self-esteem, but honestly it blows most of the time.
Why the agony over my cover letter woes? Because I have found a job that I want. Wait, not want. Must have. I don't like to talk about jobs before they happen. I believe it jinxes them. (Yes, I'm Christian and I realize that is stupid, but most fears are irrational and this is one of them.) Anyhow, it's a great job. It'd be hard work, but it'd be awesome. It'd be an excellent way to make my hopes and dreams come true.
But the only way I will get this job is to nail the cover letter. I can tell from the posting and this guy's personality. I have been working on it for hours now, but I just don't feel like I've nailed it.
Any suggestions? Anyone out there seen the best cover letter ever and have pointers?
Maybe I should just send him my "novel"? Nah, that'd probably just creep him out.
Election day...
I promised a post on election day, although it wasn't nearly as exciting as I thought. I don't recommend the early shift at the polls. First of all, I LOVE sleep, especially when it's still dark out. Secondly, I ached from my four-hour shift yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night with leg cramps. Do I miss politics or not?!?
For those of you who may not know, I have a degree in Political Science, and my concentration is in campaigns and elections. You'll remember I started college to be a real, live, hard-hitting journalist, traveling the globe covering political strife and other fun things. Obviously, my career path has changed.
About half-way through my freshman year of college, I got involved in a big way working on the student financial-aid issue. I wrote letters, attended rallies, protested outside representatives' offices. This was when I realized that people like you and me can truly make a difference. I got involved with campus causes and fought the good fight. I also realized that I was hardly a hard-hitting, unbiased newsman anymore. I switched my journalism major to Public Relations, and I decided to focus on the behind-the-scenes fun of politics. This was mostly inspired by meeting
David Wilhelm, who became one of my mentors.
I've pissed a lot of people off with my politics, and all through college I was very actively involved in the Democratic party. I worked on all kinds of campaigns, from City Council to U.S. President and I met all kinds of people. I worked for a U.S. Congressman and attended a presidential inauguration. I've met the Clintons and the Gores and I used to be on the White House Christmas-card list. (My card seems to have gotten lost in the mail for several years now.) I was a young, idealistic go-getter, just like all of my friends.
And when I graduated from college, I was burned out. I took a break. I really haven't been involved like I used to. I got involved in the Kerry campaign in 2004 because I couldn't stand another Catholic getting attacked by the church. That campaign left me with a lot of hurt feelings, because the Archdiocese of Detroit had an obvious agenda that seemed to veer so far from "What Would Jesus Do?"
I'm not involved like I used to be. I'd probably be more involved had my uncle decided to run for Congress again. If he had, he'd have won last night and he'd probably have won in November. Oh well. But this is an exciting time in Ohio politics. My former boss most likely will be our next governor. My cousin got 1,120 (she needed 50) write-in votes to be the candidate for County Auditor. Charlie Wilson and Sherrod Brown will both make strong showings and probably win and head to Washington. (Well, Sherrod is already there. Unfortuately, so is Mike DeWine.) I will miss this stuff when I move.
What I won't miss is the bullshit. I won't miss the former, slightly incompetent state chair (probably the reason Ohio Dems have so much digging out to do) who lets his personal vendettas get in the way of what's best for the party. I won't miss Democrats fighting Democrats over stupid things instead of fighting Republicans and winning elections. Just yesterday, we were harrassed by the poll workers for being on the wrong side of the flags, when I'd already gone in twice to make sure we weren't on the wrong side. This is in a Democratic primary, and I'm pretty damn sure that the person who complained was a Democrat who just wasn't smart enough to get out there and promote his candidate.
I keep telling everyone the next campaign that I will go all-out and immerse myself in will be
McGraw for Governor. Seriously, I'm not joking. I think that's just about the only thing that would make me want to do this full-time ever again. And if I didn't believe in Tim and his politics, that wouldn't even make me blink an eye.
One of my favorite quotes of all time and one that was used more than once in my political science classes:
Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. -- Lord Acton
Nine times out of 10, it's six of one, half-dozen of the other in politics. So hard to tell the good guys from the bad.
I think it's time again...
Who knows when we're actually going to get there, but that's OK. It's on our agenda, and my girls and I will end up raising some hell in tropical paradise. I don't know these people, so I really hope they don't sue me or anything, but I am really wishing I was on a beach with someone, soaking up the rays and holding hands.
The good thing about the ocean is that it really does cure what ails you. When I went to Ventura in November it seemed like the salty breeze and the waves just washed everything bad away. It's hard to be concerned with life's troubles when you are in a beautiful place.
I think that's really what the Caribbean Countdown Photo of the Day has always been about: Concentrating on getting to that place where we can leave our problems at the airport and not worry about anything except running out of rum.
Right now I need that. Because if I thought of everything going on in my life, I'd be totally overwhelmed and probably not stop crying. I know I am on the right track but some days really suck.
So instead, I'm just going to think about when this day finally comes and how much fun it will be. And since you're all on my journey now, I hope that I can share that journey with you too. Of course, lately you've all been getting the Cliff's Notes version. Oh well, we will see...
Fall Creek Falls Post
I promised a post on my visit to Fall Creek Falls. I keep forgetting to ask Sonya for some of the pictures, so if I ever get them I will post them later.
This was my second visit to Fall Creek Falls. When Sonya suggested that we go out there during my visit, I thought it would be a lot of fun, and it was an absolute blast and I definitely made a lot of new memories.
I used to visit Nashville quite a bit. I fell in love with Tennessee when Mike was in my life. His family was from Tennessee, and we spent quite a bit of time here. While a lot of the memories are fuzzy, I'll never forget the summer after I moved back to Detroit. I'm pretty sure we spent as much time in Tennessee as we did in Michigan. We were always off on some adventure almost every weekend it seemed.
Before I went with Amy in January, the last time I'd been to Nashville was my graduation trip with Mike. We had our places that we always went and our traditions. On this trip, we actually got to do a lot of things that I wanted to do, which was a major milestone for our relationship. We did still have to stop and take pictures of a few bridges and dams (lots of TVA projects, you know), but for the most part it was all about me.
I love history. One thing I love about the South is all the old buildings and battlefields. I was always pestering Mike to take me to some Antebellum home or some museum. So, when he suggested the Hermitage, of course I wanted to go there.
Except I have a slight allergy to the sun, and I underestimated the summer heat of Middle Tennessee. I should've known when someone as "thrifty" as Mike was buying bottled water at the concession stand that it was a precarious situation, but I felt fine and kept trucking along. I learned all about the stately manor of President Jackson.
As we were driving downtown to our 4-star hotel, I got violently ill. I had a serious case of sun poisioning. I thought I was going to die before we got checked into our room. So, here we are on my special weekend getaway paying $169/night for me to lie on the cold tile of the bathroom floor with a cold washcloth on my head, begging for mercy. I finally mustered up enough gumption to go to our favorite restaurant for dinner and then for a night on the town. I don't know how I managed the sight of food, and I think I actually took two whole bites of my cup of soup, but it was just nice to be in a place that held so many memories for us. And of course we made more memories that evening. He was really sweet about the whole thing, but I could tell that I'd really put a wrench in this perfect weekend that he'd planned.
The next day I was still quite ill, but he'd had a trip to Fall Creek Falls on the agenda. I didn't know if I'd remember it, but when Sonya and I met up with Randy and Joshua last Sunday, I knew exactly where everything was. I was pretty impressed with my memory. Everything started coming back to me.
I did so many things I was either too chicken or too ill to do last time. I saw many of the same places. I also learned that they have a very nice inn and very reasonably priced cabins in addition to the campgrounds. Not that I don't love sleeping in a tent. OK, yeah, I understand that it's a cheap way to see the world, but honestly my idea of roughing it is a Holiday Inn Express.
We hiked all day last Sunday, and everything was as beautiful as I remember. The falls, the cascades, the trees, the mountains, the rocks ... it was just so beautiful and I felt so close to nature. I even remembered the annual Taylor family Easter tradition of the sunrise service at Millikan's Overlook each year, and thought that had we come a week earlier, I might have seen them. We actually drove right past their road on the way home, and had Sonya not have been with me, I may have stopped and knocked on the door. But God knows what they think of me.
When I went in January for the job interview and to go house-hunting, I expected to get hit in the face with memories, and I never did. I am totally over Mike and I never wonder what-if about that whole relationship. Frankly, I know things happen for a reason, and I know that we never would've been happy together. We had a lot in common, but we just made great friends. Somedays I miss the friendship, but I just think that's too hard. And aside from driving right past his parents' house last weekend, I have no idea where I'd find him. Last I heard he was in Atlanta, but he never seems to stay in one place too long. Of course, it might be different being so close to his parents now...
I don't know why it all came rushing back. Maybe because as much as I bitch and moan about the camping and hiking, I really did enjoy it. I was really fat when he made me climb up to the highest point in Tennesee, yet somehow I survived. I held my own at Fall Creek Falls climbing those rocks last weekend. I guess I love the beauty of Tennessee and I hope that I will get to make many trips back there in the future. I am very excited about my move, and I don't feel haunted by ghosts. I just miss having that kind of person in my life once in a while.
I think about all the plans that were made. I think that deep down I've known I was supposed to settle in Tennessee although some of the details along the way have changed. I am looking forward to making more memories in my adopted state.
Song of the day today:
"Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts.
See, sometimes I use good judgment...
Well, pooh. I was going to tell you all a little story. I thought that it was time, but apparently it is not. For the most part it was written in my head today as I cleaned out my old text messages and they reminded me there is so much I haven't shared yet. So much that I just haven't put down into words, despite the fact that it makes a great story. So, I guess I will just write it down so that I don't forget one single, awesome detail, and then as soon as I can post it, I will.
I am pretty sure that everyone's just gotten bits and pieces, so I should probably write it down while it's still fresh in my mind. I don't know when I'll be able to share it. I'm suspecting that, as with everything else, I will know when the time is right.
And, as they say, timing is EVERYTHING.
Early night for me...
I have to go to bed early tonight, because I have to be up to work at the polls at 5:30 a.m. I am soooo not a morning person, so I really hope I can make it. I'm not putting a whole day in, but I'll do what I can to help.
Just as an FYI, if I get a call from the RCCC telling me how awful a candidate is, that's TOTALLY whom I'm voting for in the Democratic primary. That just tells me that they are afraid of him and know they can't beat him. I'll be curious to see who comes out winners and losers tomorrow.
Nothing too much going on. Tomorrow I will finally write about Fall Creek Falls. Surprisingly while it did dredge up some memories and get me to thinking a little, my attentions were quickly diverted back to where they should be these days. I just hope I can do this story justice.
Can't think of anything else right now. I'm very boring, I know...
