Oh, and also?

I have got to get out of the Bay Area.

Observations.

Lucky is the new Albertsons. When I first moved here all the stores were Lucky. Then they turned into Albertsons. Now they're turning back into Lucky. This is even worse than the annual re-corporatization of our beloved sports arenas. It disgusts me to think about all the money that has changed hands over this debacle.

Another small step for mankind...

I was quite disturbed at the report that Owen Wilson attempted suicide this past weekend. He's my favorite Duke brother. I can only hope that the Dish is wrong this time.

Speaking of... Perhaps Amy Winehouse should say "yes, yes, yes" to rehab once and for all.

Perhaps this cat also caught the nine millionth rerun of Jaws this weekend on TNT. It's really annoying but much like with the Princess Bride, I can't not watch this whenever I run across it. Maybe because the TV version is so similar to the original, except with commercials (unlike with movies like the Breakfast Club where they have to delete entire scenes which ends up totally detracting from the movie). I know the movie Jaws from start to finish. I sing the "show me the way to go home" song after a long day at work. I flip to another channel right before Dreyfuss's character sees the dead body while he's diving (that scene still freaks me out). Like with Poltergeist, my feet can't touch the floor while I'm watching any part of the movie. Overall though, I blame Quint. He's just a fascinating character. Very pirate-like.

And still, I would love to go in a shark cage someday.

I love Scrubs. It's a fairly recent obsession. It's witty and engaging without all the Gray's Anatomy/ER drama. (Which I also love, but can only take so much of.) The soundtrack for each Scrubs episode is particularly endearing. Right now a Toad the Wet Sprocket song is playing in the background...

If you offer me a product I like as two-for one, or more likely as two-for-less-than-the-price-of-two, I will buy two of them even if I only need one. Curse you, marketing world. Curse you.

Sweet, gas guzzling, expensive relief.

My allergies are back with a vengeance. Some might think I'm lucky for having the non-runny-nose, non-sinus variety of allergies, but I would argue that this is the worst kind of allergy to have. I feel like I'm in a complete fog, I'm not the least bit hungry, I have no energy, I walk around in a daze and nothing seems to help.

I've spent the weekend in my apartment with most of the windows closed except at night, where I open them wide to encourage fresh air to replace the CO2-riddled air that surely my houseplants are loving, but I am not.

After sleeping very late due to not sleeping at all Thursday or Friday nights, I woke up and vacuumed again, as has been the custom these past few days to try to get rid of any traces of whatever is causing this allergy nonsense. Then I ironed and drove to Alameda to look for a few things and otherwise pass some time.

(Married people with kids: you are so jealous of me right now. I have to find ways to PASS THE TIME. Ha!)

The 15-minute air conditioned ride to and from the shopping center was sheer, utter bliss. After about five minutes my fog lifted and I could think clearly. After ten minutes I was singing along with the radio. And then it was time to venture out into the "real air" and "breathe." Sigh.

I seriously considered just getting back on the highway and driving around for three hours to enjoy my clear-headedness. But I didn't have my iPod with me, and that darned Tom Shane kept popping up between all the crappy radio songs, and it would just be wrong to take a Sunday drive in this day and age.

So now I'm fuzzy again but at least I have a plan for my four-day weekend next weekend. Road trip! To somewhere off the beaten path, given the holiday weekend! The possibilities are actually endless.

From the guy who brought you The Notebook...

This morning while I was ironing my 4-foot stack of shirts and pants, I popped in Alpha Dog to pass the time. It seemed like one of those movies I didn't have to pay too much attention to in order to know what was going on.

For the most part, I was right. At some point near the end I had to put the iron down because I was watching too much of the TV and not enough of the pair of pants I was ironing. It was good, JT was good, Bruce Willis was good, Harry Dean Stanton makes an appearance (and who doesn't love Harry Dean Stanton?) and... Well, this comment pretty much sums it up. I would just add that at one point Eminem does make a soundtrack appearance - shocking!

It wasn't until I watched the "making of" that I learned it was a true story. (I'm sure all the former LA folks already know this.) I also learned that all the actors worship Nick Cassavetes and all the movies he's ever made, which I thought would be more like 20 but it's really only about five, one of which was Blow, and one of which was - yes - The Notebook. Maybe I should reconsider on that one. Seems odd that Ryan Gosling would choose a crappy teenage love story... are there drug dealers in The Notebook?

If you do opt to queue it up, I recommend watching it at night with the blinds closed and the lights off. Many of the scenes are at night and it was really difficult to see what was going on with the sun shining in the room.

(You might also close the windows - according to IMDB the word "fuck" or its derivatives is said 310 times, according to me it's said very loudly most of those 310 times. I ended up closing my kitchen window so as not to offend the new neighbors who were in the process of moving in next door.)

GAAAAR!

I was wandering around the new "unique" and "quirky" gift shops on Lakeshore this afternoon and ran across this.

Oh. My. God! The mystery of the pirate obsession becomes clearer by the day... My grandma had one of these at her house when I was teeny.

Grandma just got even cooler than she already was (raising seven kids during the depression already won her big points in my book).

Bonus Friday five.

I got an email from my good friend Adam Yauch telling me about this movie that I need to go see. His email sparked a random Wikipedia series of events which brings you five things you might not know about the Beastie Boys, in no particular order:

• My boyfriend Adam Horovitz, who you probably know was married to Ione Skye for a few years, is now married to riot grrrl extraordinaire and former lead singer from Bikini Kill, Kathleen Hanna. (Damn.)
  
• The band is over 25 years old. (Damn!)
  
• The Dust Brothers sampled "So What'cha Want" on Beck's song "E-Pro." (I don't hear it, but whatever.)
  
• According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the Boys are credited with coining and popularizing the word "mullet."
• The band was the first to win Grammies in both rap and alternative categories in the same year.

I knew there were reasons I loved these guys other than just their albums.
________________
OK, the email went to the entire web-based fanlist, but I know he had me in mind specifically when he sent it. I just know it.

Friday five.

Five things not to say to me in your reply to my online dating ad, in no particular order:

• My housemate said I'm looking german today - I think by "german" she meant "hot."
• I have probably seen every episode of Law and Order.
  
• Take a deep look at the man behind this note and the pictures.
• I ride a motorcycle (Japanese crotch rocket).
• I don't have a t.v.

(Oh and also, how can someone "sound cute" in an online ad? "Sounding fun" I get - but "cute"? Yes, sports fans, it's that time again. Twelve replies were automatically deleted, and I responded to the remaining seven... albeit five days later, because just the thought of spending time on this made me tired so I put it off for too long and now I'm responding in my insomniatic state at 4am and they will probably all think I'm a weirdo. In spite of that, this is my most optimistic attempt to date. I'll keep you posted.)

Just. Get. Dark. Already.

I think I've mentioned this before, but I am probably the only one I know with reverse SAD. I do love the Bay Area "summers," with their overcast mornings that eventually burn off into a sunny haze. But I don't understand why it's 8pm and still sunny outside. Um, hello, daylight savings time? We are no longer an agrarian society! Get with the times!

To remedy my ailment, as soon as I get home, I close all my blinds. It's the only way I can justify sitting on the couch watching TV. Her Majesty doesn't like this, of course - she's all about sitting in the sunbeams, and early evening is really the only time my apartment has a sunbeam to sit in.

Too bad, so sad.

This is why Portland is very appealing. I hear it's often overcast and/or rainy there. Not to mention, my rent would probably be about half what I'm paying now. (Granted, so would my salary, but whatever.) But could I really piss of the Portlanders by joining the masses who are moving there from the Bay Area in search of cheap property?

Yeah, I could. It would save me a bundle on airfare for the annual Pirate Festival, after all.

Poetic justice, or sumthin'.

This made me laugh out loud. You go, girl!

Holy time flying, Batman.

It's football season already?

Wow... I really am going to be 40 before I know it.

(It had to do with the scent of cloves.)

In another stellar attempt at procrastination (paper for a class is due Wednesday) I was looking at some old writing projects. I found one for a friend's writing group that I never ended up joining. The theme was "one of the five senses" or something along those lines:

I step onto the elevator going down and inhale a man’s cologne. Without warning I am four years old, sitting in my pediatrician’s office with a scratchy throat, silently pleading with the nurse with the pretty long black hair to call me into his office so that I can be enveloped in that comforting scent instead of that of the waiting room, rank with dirty diapers, germs and disinfectant.

I sidestep around construction workers rebuilding the inside of a nearby shop and sawdust fills my nose. In a moment I’m twelve, in my parents’ house helping my father remodel our kitchen, hoping he’ll trust me enough this time with the hammer – or at least the measuring tape – so that I can prove to him that I am able.

After lunch I take the long way back to the office, passing the park where a man is cutting the grass. The smell of freshly cut lawn takes me back to countless childhood summer nights playing flashlight tag with my brother and our neighbor, where I would hide for what seemed like hours in the still and silence of the night, and just when I thought they’d left me for good, the flashlight would shine in my eyes.

I step off the elevator and into the stifling, used air of the office. Someone has burned popcorn in the microwave down the hall again. I realize that this is my life now, and I sigh and walk down the hall to my desk.

I deleted one paragraph from the original piece before pasting it above, because it had to do with an ex and there wasn't a way to edit out the potentially personally-identifiable specifics without losing the meaning of why that memory made it into the piece.

Then I did something dumb. I googled him, again. Usually nothing comes up, or nothing new comes up. But this time I learned that he's got a LinkedIn contact in common with one of my LinkedIn contacts.

You know... It's bad enough that I probably live four feet from him and don't even know it... It's even worse that when I see a car that looks like his old car I momentarily panic, even though he probably has a different car these days... Worst of all, it's ridiculous that I STILL THINK ABOUT HIM. But now? Now?!

Now I have to live with the knowledge that there are two degrees of separation between him and myself.

I think it's time to put Kelly Clarkson on repeat and go for a looooong walk.

Oh, I totally forgot the most obvious observation.

If you ask me to lunch and/or dinner six times in a row, and six consecutive times, I say "no," you should really get a clue.

Belated Friday five.

Five observations from today, in no particular order:

• I don't like the new Smashing Pumpkins album. I really hoped I would, but alas, I do not.
  
• How the hell can it be legal to close an entire bridge for an entire holiday weekend?
• I am 7.5 years from turning 40.
• These sweaters from Old Navy? Sooooooo comfy, and only $20!
• It should be craft night EVERY night.
  

I loved it. It was much better than Cats. I'm going to see it again and again.

[If you can't see the show, buy the soundtrack. You won't be sorry. And you'll actually understand this post.]

On the BART ride to the city last night to see the second best Broadway show ever, a woman was reading a book called Racism Explained to My Daughter. I thought of that during one of the songs in the musical. And during another song I thought of the people who were running runNING RUNNING to catch the train only to have the door slammed in their face, and the people who were running runNING RUNNING to catch the train only to have the train sit there for five minutes. And during another song I thought of David.

Actually, I thought of a lot of things during a lot of the songs. What a remarkably relevant (to me) piece of work. For now.

________________
And at last, I was validated: crabby old bitches are the bedrock of this nation!

Early Friday five.

Thank God for dooce, who reminded me of this brilliant song I used to love once upon a time. And so I bring you the top five songs from the early 1990's I could not live without, in no particular order:

• The Last Day of Our Acquaintance - Sinead O'Connor (I love her work, I don't care whose photos she rips up on SNL or what anyone says about her)
  
• Unbelievable - EMF (mock me if you will, but it always reminds me of the Billy Bragg/Michael Stipe parody which always makes me laugh - OK, and it's a sad point of pride that I can recite the whole "rap" section which makes no sense anyway - OK, and the lead singer was hot)
• Three Strange Days - School of Fish (because it reminds me of Steve, who made the tape for me, who was my first college-aged crush)
• Stay - Lisa Loeb (again, mock if you must, but Reality Bites was a defining moment in my life)
• More Than Words - Extreme (I make no excuses... it's a cheeseball song, but I'm a cheeseball at heart)

But mostly during the early 90's I was into all the grunge and electronica. Pearl Jam will always be my favorite band, and I still love Erasure and New Order and the Smiths and Depeche Mode and ... OK, done rationalizing this list now.

Now you! What's your defining 1990's song?

File under: fucking creepy.

This evening at the gym I was perusing a semi-recent issue of People magazine while on the treadmill. I ran across an article about Oscar the cat, a two year old "resident" of a nursing home in Rhode Island, who has allegedly predicted 25 deaths.

According to the article I read, the researchers believe he can "smell" death coming. Also according to the article, the staff has taken to alerting family members when Oscar starts pacing or jumps up on a living breathing person's bed and starts kneading them and purring - alerting, as in "family members, the time has come."

Okay, first of all? GROSS.

Second of all? Strangely fascinating. Her Majesty certainly freaked the hell out right before the last earthquake, and her dearly beloved brother Riley had an uncanny ability to know when I was upset (he would force himself onto my lap even when I tried to push him away, and he would bat his little paw at my tears). I don't think cats get the credit they deserve.

Third of all? THIS is news? People, please.

Confessions.

I am totally addicted to So You Think You Can Dance.

This makes me laugh.

It was really cool to hang out with former coworkers and hear them talk about the issues and the lingo and the corporate bullshit, none of which has changed a single bit in six months, and be able to sit back and just enjoy my beer.

I'm also strangely addicted to My Boys. Probably because that will be me in 5 years. (She's 37, right??)

Sugar-free Oreos are really good.

But so are peanut butter cup brownies.

"I can't believe we're paying to watch something we could see on TV for free!"

I only paid $6.25 to watch The Simpsons Movie. Afterward I made up a word that summed up how I felt about it: funforgetable.* As in, I enjoyed watching it, but afterward, I couldn't really recall any of the good jokes and actually didn't think too much about it. Except for that motorcycle trick - that looked AWESOME.

For fans, it would be well worth your $6.25 (or better yet, a two-for-one Parkway viewing). Non-fans probably stopped reading at the first sentence in which case, goodbye, everybody!

________________
* Go ahead - google it. You'll get three major responses, only one of which is in English. Therefore I can claim that I made it up. Where's that Oxford Dictionary entry form...

Belated Friday five.

Five things I learned today, in no particular order:

• There is a children's coloring book called Great Lawyers. No shit - a coloring book. Only Borders* would have such a thing. (It's hilarious to me that when I googled "Great Lawyers coloring book" the post that came up was pretty much the guy doing what I did - leafing through it in fear and awe - and then blogging about it.)
  
• People can be quite reasonable when they want to avoid a lengthy and costly car insurance claim. (I was backing out of my space, and in true Brady Bunch form I checked and double checked before I started moving, and this SUV also backed up without looking, but the only damage was a scratch on my bumper and quite frankly I couldn't have cared less, so we basically said to each other, "I don't care - do you care? No? OK, well great, have a nice day!" and went about our business.**)
  
• The Indian joint in the Emeryville Public Market isn't very good.
• Trader Joe's has General Tsao's sauce which may allow me to recreate my favorite vegetarian dish that I can only find in Maryland (General Tsao's "chik'n" if you will), which irritates me to no end but also gives me something to look forward to after a 7 hour plane ride. [pause] If that doesn't work I will try this recipe. Gosh, it never occurred to me to search the web for a recipe. [pause] Apparently it also didn't occur to me to search the web for a restaurant near me that serves said dish. Next time I go to the Shoreline, I am soooooo there. [pause] Say, wait a minute... OK, next time I go to San Francisco, I am soooooo there. [pause] WOW. There are several others too. To sum up, today I learned that I have a new and exciting mission ahead of me.
• It's surprisingly easy to kill two hours in Ikea.
  

________________
* Lest ye judge, I only went to Border's because I wanted to buy one of my favorite childhood books as a gift for my long-time friend's son. In case he already has it, they don't have Diesel or Pegasus or Moe's back east, okay?! They didn't have Danny and the Dinosaur in stock, which was probably my favorite book at age 4. I really wanted to read that one again. Bah.

** I'm running short on this type of luck. I've never had a major car accident. However, on my way home from a wedding a couple years ago I rear-ended a woman (though I just barely tapped her car). I was mortified - I was pretty emotional because of my lack of any prospects for a wedding in the foreseeable future - but she just got out of her car, looked at me, looked at her bumper, said "are you OK? I'm fine," I said, "I'm fine," and she said "OK, have a nice day" and drove off. Perhaps my teary reply worked in my favor that day. But there's something about the "three strikes you're out" rule... So I think my next accident will be a doozy.

Early Friday five. And some psychoanalysis.

Five things I learned from my "managing conflict" class this past week, in no particular order:

• I have a tendency to avoid conflict at all costs (using humor, bargaining, accommodation... basically not having the cojones to look someone in the eye and say "let me show you where I have trouble following your reasoning" or "do you have a suggestion to move us forward?" as the class materials suggest).
  
• I might consider myself a people person but really, I'm all about the facts.
  
• I'm too nice.
• Yet, I have no patience for people who have something to say about every single thing the instructor says.
• I don't think I'm cut out for upper management.

We were doing a case study/role play when the "too nice" comment came up. It's something I've known about myself forever - I want everyone else to be happy at my own expense, "no really, you enjoy the party, I'll do your dishes" might ring true for many dear readers - but to hear an almost-perfect stranger say that about me was kind of awakening.

Of course, I don't think my recent work behavior of being a total bitch in large cross-departmental meetings is so indicative of Ms Nice Guy. Incidents include pointedly stating that there are actually three stages to each project and the fact that mine is the last stage does not mean that I am the late one, how about let's look at some of the earlier stages and did they meet their deadlines? no? well, how about that... Or that time today when I suggested a new way to organize meetings without first talking to the original meeting organizer who wasn't even in the room during the discussion.

I'm not convinced that people can change their ways. I think if we take the time to be conscious about approaching a situation, we can temporarily adapt our ways to fit the situation. I would love to be a "conceptualizer" rather than an "analyzer," believe me. It sounds more fun, for one thing. But deep down, I will always need a spreadsheet of cold hard data before I can make a decision. And I will probably always be passive-aggressive and I will probably always want to make sure everyone is happy at my own expense.

There's gotta be a support group for people like me... Or at least a talk show that does not involve Dr Phil.

________________
But sometimes, when I'm doing the dishes at your party, it's really because I just need a break from all the socializing so leave me alone about it and just enjoy the fact that I'm doing them and you won't have to, already. Savvy?

I've got nothing to say.

I hope you have a nice day.

_________________
This post brought to you by Too Much Joy. To create, you must destroy.

Neither wind, nor rain, nor cold...

I went for a run anyway, even though it was cold and the sky was spitting on me for most of the hour. BUT, in an effort to stay focused on the work I needed to accomplish today I didn't take my iPod. Instead, I planned an MS Access relational database in my head as I pounded the pavement.

And now it's Sunday night, I'm having a glass of wine and documenting my database before I start to create it.

God, I'm a nerd...

I do have the TV on in the background. And I have to formally state my position on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. I think that overall, the design team and CBS (or ABC?) and the community volunteers are doing great work by bringing new life and new hope to needy families. Where I have trouble is that, a) they build ginormous homes amidst teeny homes and I just have to wonder what that does to the family's relationship with the neighbors after they are done with the house?, b) there doesn't appear to be anything sustainable (as in, energy efficient, or global-warming-preventing) about the new homes they build, and c) there doesn't seem to be any consideration given to the fact that the family is typically low-income and building a ginormous house will drastically increase the gas, electric, and water bills every month - where is the follow up to see if this is a sustainable model for revitalizing homes and improving lives, and how many families can support themselves in their new home? End of soapbox. Oh and also, are families able to sell the homes on the market or are there any restrictions to that extent? Probably only I would wonder about that. I'd better call Ty.

Despite all of that, the show still makes me cry every Sunday night. Dammit.

Welcome to my thought process, 3-5:30am this morning.

I woke up at the usual witching hour this morning and wasn't able to go back to sleep. So I flipped through infomercials and prayer shows until I ran across The Bone Collector.

I'm sure no one cares but spoilers follow.

I was convinced that it was the stupid cop. He must've been doing it on purpose, losing evidence and not linking clues together. I spent 90% of the movie very disappointed in Denzel, that he would participate in such a lame movie. (But also very impressed with Denzel because his portrayal of a quadriplegic was astounding. He never moved a muscle he wasn't supposed to move. And also very jealous of Queen Latifah because she got to play his caretaker. Sigh.)

But then the end twisted and turned, and it wasn't the stupid cop, and even though the ending and the movie overall were still lame, my faith in humanity was restored.

And then I watched five minutes of Parental Control and all that faith went right out the window.

Well hung.

The tree is 100% done and hanging over my bed as I type. Laundry is done. It's cold and seems to be trying to rain so I'm hesitant to go for a run. I vacuumed. I've watched all my Netflix movies. There's nothing good on TV. My car is clean inside and out.

How am I supposed to procrastinate finishing all the work I'm supposed to do before tomorrow, when the world is against me?

Good day, great day.

On a good day, the smell of baking bread wafting through the apartment is enough to make me very, very happy.

On a great day, I've spent the day downtown in a very productive class, I've had a lovely 3 mile walk from downtown (with 1 mile detour) to home, I've picked up new houseplants along the way, and all three pizza crusts I've baked turned out PERFECTLY.

This has been a great day.

The more things change...

I wasn't alive in 1968 when Bobby Kennedy was shot. All the history books I read in school seemed to jump from 1964 to 1974, so before seeing the movie I didn't really know much about him other than the fact that he was a Kennedy and therefore he probably rocked. But I did finally watch, and very much appreciate, Bobby. Liberal bias and Rehab Queen aside, it was very well cast and well directed and well shot (no pun intended) and... Well, it made me kinda sad, actually. I don't feel like we've come very far in 40 years. It feels like as technology advances at warp speed, societal progression slows down. And I don't just mean in the "can't talk - text messaging" sense of it, I mean in the grand scheme of things - The-Man-keeping-people-not-like-himself-down sense of it. I know that adding a post-1968 human rights montage at the end would've been cliche, but that's all that was running through my head after I watched the movie. I'll have to ask my parents where they were when he was killed. And slightly unrelated but not so much, I've REALLY gotta see A Day Without A Mexican.

I was eight years old when The Big Chill came out. But on a whim I watched that last night. All those liberal arts self-righteous college kids who ended up in mainstream society, feeling sad and lost and lonely and unfulfilled... For a brief moment it made me appreciate my life, seeing as how I'm on the rebound from the corporate world. But then today I sat in a random meeting with people in my line of work, and I was kinda stunned to realize that none of them were wearing wedding rings. I chalked it up to the fact that they were all gay just to make myself feel better, but somehow the movie intertwined with the meeting and I walked out wondering if anyone was really, truly happy. An odd day followed.

And now I'm going to watch Kramer Vs Kramer, because my oldest friend raves about that movie, and I imagine I will cry at the appropriate scenes and appreciate the Oscar-worthiness of the movie, and then be left wondering why people bother to get married and what the meaning of life is all about.

Welcome to my Friday night! Good thing I have a full bottle of wine to accompany this viewing.