it's that time of year

it's year-end and time again for resolutions and goals. in the past, i've conflated the two, but this year, i am making an actual resolution and setting a couple goals.

the resolution is to correct a bad and worsening habit: i have a tendency to cut in when other people are talking. this happens because first, i can figure out where you are going with what you are saying, and second, i have already formulated a reply, and third, i am rude as hell. it's just getting out of control, and i need to stop before i am That Person.

the goals are to renew my lifeguard certification and to run the lansing marathon in 4:30:00 or less.

i went through lifeguard training three years ago, and it was difficult then, thus i am sure it will be so this time as well. i'm significantly older than the other students, and i'm sure they'll be nice like they were last time, but it's just awkward. also, i wear contact lenses so during the class, i use swimming goggles to protect my eyes. goggles are dorky, but hey, i am not leaving multi-dozen dollar lenses in the pool. beyond their inherent dorkyness, goggles aren't allowed in the test, so not only is the test stressful, but the difference in equipment is stressful. i mean, losing one or both contacts during testing wouldn't be so bad, but the difference between what i am used to and testing situation is simply a stressor. anyway, i am confident i'll pass, and i am up for the challenge, but at the same time, i wish it were already done.

as for lansing, i am thinking 4:29:59 would be a good goal there. i've tried to run hard and fast and ended up hurt, so i don't want to do that again. i've never broken 4:30, so why not just focus on that for a change and stop chasing after every shiny goal that crosses my path?? it's not that i am not up for a challenge -- it's that i don't want to be a fool about it. i am not willing to give up soccer or lifeguard certs, and i am not in the shape i was last year, so 4:30 is a reasonable goal. i've contacted my coach from last year, but if she doesn't want to mess with me, that's cool. i mean, i could use the support, but i could also just cobble together a training plan and muddle through on my own.

so.

what about you?

the night before the night before christmas

'twas the night before the night before christmas,
and all through the hood
not a creature was stirring.
at the mall?
understood.

so i donned my mittens,
long sleeves, tights, and cap,
and ventured outside
for a cold winter's lap.

the sun, how it glistened
off iced holly berries!
the wind my cheeks burnished
to hues of bright cherry.

i crested the hill
and met with surprise
a ginormous brown truck
and a man,
small of size.

i slowed to a walk,
and approached him with care,
not knowing if he knew
i knew
he was there.

as i neared, he looked up,
and his face broke a smile
"hey there, ace!" said this man,
"come and chat for a while."

i startled and jumped,
when he called me by name.
then, i softly said, "santa?"
he said, "one, and the same."

so we sat on the tailgate
of his mighty truck,
and he told a sad story
of terrible luck.

"it started last summer,"
said santa to me,
"when rudolph came out of
the closet, you see."

he went on, "he ran off,
and took prancer and vixen,
and so you can see
i was a fix in."

"couldn't you replace
three flying reindeer,"
i asked somewhat boldly,
"fore snow fell this year?"

"alas," said poor santa,
"if that were the all...
my real troubles are stuff
that kids see at the mall."

"electronics." i said,
with grim realization.
santa's elves can't construct
with computerization.

santa sighed and agreed,
his elves were outdone.
"they've gone off to be dentists."
said santa, "each one."

"so, you're on your own?!"
i exclaimed with dismay,
"santa - you're delivering
toys now? this day?"

"i," said old santa,
"must start anon'er,
to deliver the orders
from damned
amazon'er."

i clambered right down
off that rusty tailgate
and told poor, old santa,
"i won't make you late."

but he caught my arm
and said, "ace, won't you stay?
i could sure use your help
right now,
this day."

i patted his hand
and told him i would.
i'd be santa's helper.
(on his list, i'd be good!)

so we worked together
to put out those 'zon boxes
at houses all up
and down the hood's blockses.

we finally got done,
it was just about dark,
so i offered him space
in my driveway to park.

he said, "thanks but no thanks,
ace, i can't stay.
i have as many deliveries
tomorrow as today."

so i headed to go home,
as he drove out of sight.

happy christmas, dear santa.
may you find peace,
tonight.

lollipop crush

http://www.stirrup-queens.com/2013/oh-level-158-of-candy-crush-you-almost-ended-me

this is an ideal blog post.

firstly, i also am struggling with level 158. so this post offers me solace. clearly 61 commenters are finding something also.

secondly, notice how she takes a small, everyday, yes-i'll-say-it trivial topic and stretches it to a wider theme. that is precisely what i wish to do here. it's brilliant, what she's done. from the invitro parallels to the call-to-action style philosophical challenge at the end. kudos, lollipop goldstein!

i envy this post in a way that inspires me. i am not bitter. i do not begrudge lollipop goldstein her candy crush success nor her stellar composition skills. if anything, i am crushing on her and want to write like her when i grow up.

a christmas story

i'm feeling pretty defensive about christmas.

christianity is getting a bad rap these days, and christians are painted as closed-minded folk bent on pushing their point of view. at the same time, christians are feeling persecuted, boxed in. but imma say this: when a tenet of your beliefs tells you that this one way is the only way -- and another tenet tells you it's your purpose in life to convince everyone you meet that this way is their only chance -- to avoid eternal punishment... well... that's a bit of pressure right there. all that responsibility on your shoulders, last thing you need is some yahoo replacing "merry christmas" with "happy holidays". THERE ARE SOULS AT STAKE FOR GOSHSAKES!

anyway. i was raised in what would best be called a christian home. i mean, we weren't buddhist or muslim or another definable category. we didn't go to church a ton or anything, but still, during the time when i was a child, my family of origin would have identified as christian.

so.

i celebrate christmas because my family did. does. do. will have been doing.

i also celebrate because i have read the christian bible my self and taken time to understand it for myself and believe a good portion of what is stated therein. HOWEVER. i believe a lot of things that aren't in there and i believe there are connections between what i believe that's in there and what i believe that's not in there, and sometimes i see connections and sometimes i don't, but more than anything, i believe that I DON'T KNOW IT ALL.

so.

i celebrate christmas because it's a celebration of things i feel are worth celebrating.

and, i celebrate christmas because it's built on celebrations of other things, more ancient things, that i ALSO feel are worth celebrating.

so.

i am feeling defensive about christmas because i want to celebrate christmas WITHOUT HAVING TO APOLOGISE to the groups that celebrate and are offended by my not feeling persecuted OR to the groups that don't celebrate and are offended by my celebration.

so.

here's a story that explains what christmas means to me. it's a story about me and my brothers -- crown prince, descartes, and sweet baby james.


***~~~***~~~***

back in the day, we kids would get gifts from santa in our stockings and the old codger would also leave unwrapped stuff sort of laying around the den. each kid's stuff would be in a separate pile. one year after crown prince & i were old enough to know better, decartes & sweet baby james were still receiving lots of santa gifts. i don't remember all the particulars of the gift situation, but i do remember that we each got a few things in our stockings and the little boys got santa gifts, too.

what they got that year was NFL gear. not the pretend uniforms with helmets, no, no. nothing mainstream and athletic like that. rather, what they received were raincoats and boggin hats, each emblazoned with the logo of an individual team that was apparently randomly selected by santa from the sears catalog based on raincoat & boggin hat size. descartes got the bengals, and he became a sort of ersatz bengals fan because of it. sweet baby james got the redskins, and promptly stopped believing in santa.

at any rate... after all the stocking-emptying and general santa gift excitement had died down, descartes came over to me and said, "what did you get from santa?" and i showed him the stuff from my stocking, and said, "this stuff here. this is what i got." but he knew that the stocking stuff didn't really count as santa gifts so he said, "no, really. what did you get?" and, i showed him the stocking stuff again, and said, "this."

now, descartes was puny and i was not. the clothes he wore on his body were significantly smaller than anything i could wear... but he looked at me, and he put his wee tiny hand on my shoulder, and he said, "that's okay. you can wear what i got anytime you want."

***~~~***~~~***

sometimes you just wanna...

eat the ice cream. buy the dog. take the trip. run eight miles.

sometimes i get an idea in my head and i just want to do it. or, almost like - just HAVE to do it. there is nearly no stopping me, once i've decided, which is why i don't go too close to the edge in high places or too close to the railroad tracks when the train is in view. i just might jump. i just might try to beat the train. if i get the idea in my head that that's what i want to do, my mind won't let go until i've done it. my mind just keeps nagging and nagging, won't move on... obsessed? maybe. so, it's best not to tempt myself with the opportunity to decide to beat the train when the gate is going down.

anyhoo.

today, i decided i wanted to run eight miles. i'm not trained up to that, but i'm sort of basically in shape, so it's not going to kill me. why do i want to? who knows. that's the thing about these notions - they can come from nowhere. but, today, my mind wanted to go run eight miles and since i can't trust it to wander about on its own, i went with.

... ...

i check the weather and it's 48º, cloudy, light winds, so i go with shorts and a long sleeved shirt. #protip: you're better served to actually go the fck outside and not rely on internet weather reports.

i get dressed, collect my garmin and keys, and head to the car. i am driving to a start point that will position me for an eight miles i've done before. i'm allowing my mind eight miles, not a crazy adventure that might go longer. i mean, c'mon.

from house to garage-kept car to parking lot. i step out and realize right away that it's a coldass 48º. glad i have a hat. wish i had gloves. i start my garmin, pull my sleeves over my hands, and set off. after a half mile or so, i'm warm enough.

i pass a girl, and then another, going the other way. smile, wave. there's a guy on the other side of the road. then a guy coming at me, pass, smile, wave. that guy on the other side has turned around and is heading back where he came from.

i like this feeling of community... this sort of disconnected connection. we're all out here together yet each of us is alone. we are all doing the same thing yet each of us is doing our own thing.

this is one of the things i really like about running - how it's like a universal language. like math. 2+2 is always 4 no matter where in the world you are. and while we each make our own "thing" out of running, we are all runners.

i think on this awhile, but i don't make too much of it because first, to me, it's a given, and second, running is a time when i let my mind wander. like a big dog, my mind needs to run around or it'll pee on the floor.

my carpplegänger goes by and i don't catch sight of the driver. probably for the best. while i'm always eager to see who's driving my carpplegänger, i am all too often disappointed to see it's a yawn-inspiring middle-aged man.

i see quite a bit of paper strewn around the grass up ahead. litterers. you're making that indian guy cry. i get closer and see some of it is mail. now i'm conflicted - do i pick it up? i decide to leave it.

traffic is heavier on this side of the hill, where there're starbucks and gas stations and a sonic. i'm close to the turnaround spot and starting to do a mental inventory of the contents of my fridge. what'll i eat when i get home?

i plan to go to 4.1 miles before i turn around because that leaves room to walk at the end. i'm at 3.8, and i'm feeling pretty good. hey, this is going to be allright! i am nearly on the backtrack! i'm going to do it!

at 4.15, i turn to head back and hit a wall of wind. whaaat? apparently, this has been at my back. well, who knew. probably those runners going the other way with those mysteriously pained looks on their faces. huh.

so, okay, now i am freezing. feels like it's dropped several degrees. i pull my sleeves back down from where i'd pushed them past my elbows, and tuck my hands back inside. damn. it's cold.

i keep picking up the pace to stay warm and slowing down because i know i can't maintain the faster pace the entire way back. my hip hurts. my muscles are tired. my breathing is sort of getting worn out.

here's that strewn mail again, and this time i stop to pick it up. three cello-window-business-envelope letters addressed to folks with a last name containing more consonants than vowels. i stack the letters neatly under a tree.

i'm sort of grinding now, but i know i'm on the homestretch. 2.5 or so miles to go, probably. i'm not certain because i'm not looking at the garmin because i know i am going slow and i'm determined to disregard the pace.

my mind has quieted. snippets of a tune float by. i don't bother stopping it, just let it weave through, ebb and flow. i'm feeling good, feeling lucky. i think about people who can't run. like, newborn babies. amputees. fat-fat-fatties.

waiting for the light to change, then it changes, and i am climbing the last hill. unlike at the monkeython - where lying signs pepper the course - this IS the last hill. it's a doozy, up and up for at least half a mile.

despite the climb, i am still cold at the top. just over a mile from the finish, i pick up the pace a little. after crossing the last street, i look at the garmin - .4 to go. i pick up the pace even more and finish the last mile in 10:34.

yeah, my fastest mile was 10:34, but what the hell. i wanted to run eight miles, so i went out and ran eight miles. back in the car, i check the weather again, and it's climbed to 49º. well, so much for "it's getting colder". i blame the wind.

at home, i drink water, then some milk, then i hit the showers. after 20 minutes of steamy heat, i bundle up in leggings, sweatshirt, warm socks, and pad to the kitchen for cheese and crackers. mmm...

exercised and warm and fed, i fall asleep on the couch and dream quiet dreams.

do you hear what i hear

it's that time of year... the time when we're pounded over the head with the christmas-holiday dichotomy. because nothing says "joy" like a heated argument. but, c'mon... of all the false dichotomies in the world, you had to walk into mine, amiright? i mean, christmas IS a holiday.

okay, okay. i get "IT". i get that "happy holidays" is designed to intentionally hide the fact that the holiday in question is christmas, and the motivation to hide christmas is to cover up the christ part which is of course the attraction of christmas and simultaneously the repulsion, the part that triggers intense cognitive dissonance. i mean, jesus didn't really go around preaching "buy your kids lots of toys and whatnot!".

so.

1. antagonistically pushing a my-way-or-the-highway philosophy over something as trivial as nomenclature is sort of the opposite of peace, love, and joy.

2. other religions' high holy days fall at various times during the year. if you were to say "happy holiday" to a jew during yom kippur or to a muslim during ramadan or to a druid during alban elfed -- what you're most likely to get in return is sincere appreciation of your recognition of their holiday. so, ye followers of christmas, when you are presented with "happy holiday", why not simply say... thanks.

3. back in the day, the native folk were bringing a tree into the cave in midwinter to celebrate the waxing daylight, to honour this proof that the universe had not abandoned them to the lengthening night. early christians, in turn, co-opted that event to use as the celebration of jesus's birth. (you didn't think he was actually born in midwinter, did you?) so now the pagans want their holiday back. how about, let them have it? instead of focusing on how many ways you can feel persecuted, try focusing on how you can feel joy.

4. christians are all the time bemoaning the commercialization of christmas, yet there they are, trying to christmasize the commercial. if you don't like the retailers telling you "happy holiday", how about you don't participate in holiday shopping? however, on the other hand, if you do choose to venture into their world and partake of their culture, being as you are on their turf, how about you refrain from telling them how to behave? just because you're all conflicted about burying the meaning of christmas (the meaning YOU understand) under your overindulgent spending, don't take it out on folks who don't have your context.


in conclusion, may your days be merry... and bright.

restore factory settings

when i originally set it up, my excitement over the netbook experience overwhelmed my good sense, and i began using the admin account right off the bat. i know it's best to create a clearcut setup -- an admin account and a standard one, using the standard to do daily work and the admin to do updates.

i simply neglected that, and by the time i realized what i was doing, i felt too far in to abandon the account, so i created another admin account and used that one to mark the first as standard. in one fell swoop, i had successfully confused the admin functionality across two accounts.

over the years, the crossed up authority led to misaligned updates, with one account inching ahead, then the other inching ahead, and for poor little toshibook, keeping track of what was where and which was when eventually got to be too much. the processor just churned and churned.

every transaction felt like wading through thick mud. folders, files, browser windows - all of it was sluggish at best, frequently non-responsive. i craved a clean slate, so i decided to create a new user account. several error messages later, the new user account seemed out of reach, and the state of toshibook, more dire.

beginning to feel a bit urgent about a fresh start, i considered a system restore. the first step (recommended by system software) was to create a restore disk. (there's no CD drive in toshibook, so it'd have been a restore "thumb drive".) again, i was assaulted with errors messages and had to abandon the effort.

this is when i began considering a complete restore to factory settings. a "pro": there wasn't any complicated software installed, no itunes or anything like that. documents, pictures, all normal stuff -- windows puts that stuff in the user file, which was easily copied to the aforementioned thumb drive.

my main concern about factory reset was that i'd misstep and end up with a useless hunk of metal and plastic -- that i'd somehow delete the OS and be forced into the netherland of ubuntu or somesuch. or, worsewise, that "factory reset" literally meant no OS. i wanted a clean start, not a science project.

my concerns were somewhat assuaged when i learned (in an online PDF of the machine's user manual) that factory reset was designed to give me an out-of-the-box machine, just like having a brand new netbook from the store. (as opposed to "before the box", which would mean no OS.)

the more i thought about it, the more i liked the idea of starting over, the chance to do it right this time. i was stoked. of course... i had my security blanket of the misc detritus, the flotsam and jetsam, everything from the user folder now sitting on the thumb drive. what could go wrong?

answer: lots of things. but, more important than what could go wrong, i wondered what would go wrong. answer: nothing. the entire process was amazingly easy. taking the leap to restore factory settings was delightfully simple, decidedly liberating, deliciously thrilling. yeah, i went there. THRILLING.

bottom line: achieving this clean slate state was precisely as energizing and refreshing as psychology promises us resetting to a clean slate state can be. the machine's functionality is terrific - speedy, accurate, not slogs and bogs. plus, little toshibook-ii just seems so happy to have had a bath.

desert island 5

it's a parlor game, you know. the setup is: you're stranded on a desert island and can only have five albums. the game is: which would you take?

here are mine.

1. the stranger. billy joel.
of course i have to pick a billy joel album. he just means that much to me. i could literally choose five billy joel records, but in the spirit of the game, i will select just this one. it is a serious dead-heat toss up between this one and turnstiles. tomorrow or yesterday, i could easily pick turnstiles. today, it's the stranger. i won't drag you through all the tracks, but just to say a couple things about the b-side. first track - vienna. oh my god, the first time i heard that track i was like, damn, i want to be that girl, that girl moving too fast, that girl who is worth more than she knows. so, that was ideal #1. then a couple tracks later - always a woman. okay, double damn. there's ideal #2. now i know the girl i want to be and the woman i want to become, and it's all laid out for me in road of stellar sterling crystal clear beauty. did i get there? you be the judge.

---

2. peter and the wolf. sergei prokofiev.
five billy joel albums aside... i'm pretty sure if i were on an actual desert island (with, you know, a state of the art solar-powered stereo sound system) i'd want some variety. so, my second pick is an accessible classic symphony. i haven't heard it in years, but when we were small, we'd listen to it all the freaking time. i am confident this will be a welcome addition to my five album library.

---

3. bringing down the horse. wallflowers.
there are a mere few voices in the whole wide world that can completely settle me down, and jakob dylan has one of them. (darius rucker and brandi carlile can do the same, but as i don't own an album of either, can't very well take them onto the ol' desert isle.) one thing about being on a desert island is that it'll be stressful as hell, so i'll need a vocal tranquilizer.

---

4. crimson. alkaline trio.
on the flip side of the calming mr dylan, we have a set of songs here that inspire me to heights of grating anger, soul-corroding fear, and steaming self-loathing. you know, sometimes you just need a break from the lollipops and butterflies. i was considering the equally bleak-inspiring black parade by my chemical romance, but the songs on crimson are ones i know nearly by heart, so i am fully aware of their power over me. sometimes, you just want to surrender completely to hate. honk of you get me!

---

5. the big chill, soundtrack. various artists.
last but not least, we have a complete cop-out compilation. a deciding factor for this choice is that i love the song "can't always get what you want" but pretty much despise everything else that ever came out of the musical factory known as the rolling stones. clearly, i cannot select a rolling stones album. (i sort of think i might like rolling stones' brown sugar, but i also think i might be confusing it with def leppard's pour some sugar on me, which i definitely do like.) in this case, to get what i want (caveat: not always possible), i'd have to procure the extended super-deluxe magnum remake version of the compilation. not sure why this song wasn't included in the first place, except maybe that it's true -- you can't always get what you want. at any rate, all versions of this soundtrack album contain myriad wonderful sing-along motown classics and nothing says 'desert island fun' like singing along to the motown classics.

---

and? so? what about you?

thankfulness

we have so many things to be thankful for that it's a cliché. we say we're thankful for a roof over our heads and food on the table, but it's hard to really appreciate things we pretty much take for granted. house, food, clothes, indoor plumbing, a world free of polio.

anyway, before i veer completely into cynicism, i wanted to talk about a few specific things that i feel actual gratitude for.

1. yesterday at thanksgiving celebration, i spent an hour or so playing legos with my nephew who not long ago was battling cancer. there he is, cancer free and now nearly off the prednisone, a delightful five-year old boy with health, patience, stamina, a budding sense of humor, and a fascination with legos that granted me a measure of peace from the family fray.

2. every morning, i put on eyeglasses. some days, i'll end up inserting contact lenses, and some days i'll stick with the glasses, but on no day to do not correct my vision. without correction, my vision is so poor that it's not an overstatement to say i'd not be able to live an independent life, but with these simple corrective devices, i'm able to do whatever the remainder of my body will allow.

3. now, i realize being thankful for a yoga app presumes thankfulness for everything from electricity to smart phones, but i am trying to be specific. for the past few weeks, i've made good use of an app i got for free from starbucks. if i'd known it was this good, i'd have happily paid for it. i've told lots of people about it and used it lots of times. it's great to be able to do quality yoga at home.

4. whenever i see them, i am thankful for cedar trees. their charlie-brown-christmas-ish scraggliness belies an unparalleled inner beauty, and their ability to grow in the most unlikely places is a testament to the power of sheer determination. cedar trees spend centuries breaking rocks to dirt to make way for more showy deciduous trees. and, they just smell so damn good.

5. at the time, i didn't think it really mattered - i thought it was a guy thing - but when we were house shopping, my old man held out for an attached garage. let me tell you something about attached garages: they ARE all they are cracked up to be. not have to wrestle the weather whilst boarding and deboarding cars, and not ever having to scrape an icy windshield - these are real luxuries.


okay, yes, i am thankful for family, friends, house, food, clothes, job, health, et cetera and so on and so forth. all of that and more. but sometimes the enormity of the blessings mute their individual worth. there's so much to be thankful for that it's difficult to be truly thankful for any of it. i don't want to be numb to the riches and the beauty around me, and i find it helps me appreciate everything if i get specific about a few things.

is it wrong

is it wrong of me to love you so

to never want to let you go

to want to only hold you close

and not to eat and not to sleep

and just to keep you here with me

anxiously eager

somewhere along the way, i learned to differentiate eager and anxious. they both speak to a looking forwardness, but while eager is an optimist, anxious is all bunched up. the only reason i can figure that this difference would have stuck with me is that i must have lost points on an essay over using the wrong one. or more likely, lost points more than once.

another thing about eager and anxious is that you can simultaneously be both. i know this because it happened to me.

just over a couple months ago, i decided to make the appointment. i was in the strip mall anyway -- to register for a 5k -- so i just marched on down there and made the appointment. thuswise was the initial step complete.

what followed were two weeks of anxious eagerness. i wanted the results, but never having done it before, i had no idea what to expect. would it hurt? would it leave scars? would i regret it? would it end up costing more than they originally said? bottom line, i was anxious that it wouldn't be what i expected. i mean, i thought i wanted the results, but what if the results were ineffective, disappointing, or (yikes) detrimental? i wanted the results i imagined when i dreamed about the process, but i had no way of knowing whether i'd get those results. pluswise, never having had those results, what if i got those very results and even those precise results i thought i wanted turned out to be something i didn't want??

ack! anxiety alternated with pure pollyanna eagerness in a way that made me nearly bipolar. i was a regular dr happy and mr OH MY GOD WHAT AM I GETTING MYSELF INTO!?

so. two weeks passed and the day of the appointment arrived. i had scheduled this activity for after work so that either way it turned out, i could go straight home afterwards. i chose my wardrobe carefully that morning - it had to last me all day at work and then be just right for my appointment. oddly enough, as important as it was to me that day eight weeks ago, i now have no idea what i ended up wearing.

so, bottom line, the day has finally arrived. all day i'm vacillating -- eagranxious to anxeager and back again. i leave work early to get there on time and end up getting there early. turns out there's less traffic before the masses get off work. who knew?

anyway, i go in and they're ready already. who's eager now, eh? they're nice and all, but they're expecting money from me later, so they should be nice. i fill out a few forms and they smile at me and take me back to a room. the whole thing takes about 30 minutes. it hurts, but not like you might think, and when it's over, i feel good about it. i'm glad i did it, and i am relieved it's over. i can still feel it for a few hours after, you know, like a pain echo, but i can tell that won't last till the next day... and i can know i am really pleased the results.

so ends the story of my first full facial waxing.

is love here?

smooth celadon
turned in upon
itself:
a frilled fold,
furled,
forms a shield
to the world.

clean curl uncurling,
shy soft stalk peeks
into arid air
as if wondering...
is love here?

would have had been going to be doing

we were to meet at 11AM.

we both have prior appointments and are running late. well, i am running late and since it's his modus operandi, i figure he's running late also. i'm out of production briefing at 11:05, dump my stuff on the desk, grab my keys and wallet... i'm out the door by 11:10 or so. the weather is gorgeous - startlingly blue sky, air so crisp it crackles. the so-colorful-last-week leaves are nearly all down, but the grey branches are no damper on this lovely day. it's about 40 degrees or so, and i pull on my gloves for the walk across the street.

i arrive maybe 11:20 or so. he's not here, but that's not a big surprise - like i said: late is his MO. i make small talk with the doorman, check words with friends, stroll far enough in to view the art posted in the entry hall. 11:30, still not here. i don't have any terrible sense of foreboding, but still, he should be here. i text him. nothing. call. no answer. call again, and this time i get his wife on the line. i struggle through an awkward (even for me, this is awkward.) conversation with her about how he left his phone at home, followed by her lamenting she can't operate his "not apple" phone but managed to answer it, followed by a replay of all his proposed stops along the way to meet me, followed by a bit of consternation on her part, concluding with her advice to me -- "well, just do what you think is best."

hmm. no shit.

while talking to her, i've decided to go back across the street to my office because [drum roll] that's what i think is best. upon my return, i notice my deskphone message light is on, and i know right away what's happened. sure enough, the lobby guard left a message to say "your party is here now" -- except my here was not his here and his now is now past. an hour ago, we were both in separate heres.

when i finally talk to him, he's apologetic, but i cut him off because it's not his fault that our world has so quickly become so very used to immediate communication that last-minute confirmations are second nature. see, we had not firmed up precisely when or where we were meeting, and didn't notice the infirmity until it crippled our appointment.

we made a plan to (try to) meet again, precisely two days from today, precisely at 11AM, precisely in the lobby of the art gallery across the street from my office.

and, we promised to call and confirm.

our life together is so precious together

believe me, i read other blogs. i see the funny stuff and the deep stuff, the recipes and the book reviews, the amusing anecdotes and running logs and political essays. i know what's going on out there, and i am perfectly aware how all this time spent watching everyone else do what they do contributes to my periodic blog nuking. (what tripe! blow it up!) i know this because my being a watcher is not confined to my bloglife. i am a watcher because i am a watcher. observing and comparing are so ingrained in me that it's not possibly not genetic. the productive side of O&C is a competitive nature that drives me to success. the negative side is, you know, blog nuking and suchlike.

that being said, it was time to nuke this place. (i mean, of course, "nuke". please see sidebar for links to old content.)

now. at the risk of taking myself too seriously, i am laying down some principles this time. not rules or fences or anything binding - just some principles to help me remember that writing is a part of who i am and it's okay to write how i write and it's okay to share no matter how i think it turns out.


PRINCIPLES OF YOUR BLOG ARE YOUR PALS P-L-E.

1. quixotically quotidian. at the risk of taking myself too seriously AGAIN ALREADY, i came up with this little slogan to define what i would like to try to be doing here. someone once called my blog "quotidian" and i was quite insulted (WHAT THE HELL, PRETENTIOUS BLOG SNOB?!) because i associate "quotidian" with dull plodding, but all it really means is the nuts & bolts of daily life, and after much ponderous pondering, i have decided to embrace the quotidian -- WITH A TWIST. that's where "quixotic" comes in. i don't want to be a dope or go all pollyanna, but i do want to explore the everyday with eye towards the universal. everyday plus. everyday for everyone. i want to delve into our blazing individual uniquenesses and reveal how they make us all the same in the end. quixotically quotidian.

2. serendipitously serene. i won't be nailed down to a genre or a subject matter. i won't only write about one aspect of my life and i won't only write in one format. there'll still be poetry. there'll still be movie reviews. the only thing you can be sure of here is not being sure of what'll be here. or, for that matter, when it'll be here. i'm going to try and post at least once per week, but when i put too much pressure on myself, i emit empty air like a leaky balloon. i don't want to produce mere filler. "serene" is sort of just there for the alliteration... but it's also about how peace comes in unexpected ways and represents my attempting to encompass the whole "you never know until you try" thing. serendipitously serene.

3. diligently discoverable. every other blog in the world gets comments. why don't i get comments? the only logical explanation is that no one reads my blog. okay, maybe you're reading and not finding things commentable, but that's what #1 (#1 -- hee hee) is supposed to remedy. how to fix that i am who'ing up a storm and no one is out there horton'ing in return? @acePeriwinkle to the rescue. i'll be tweeting new posts and if something's worthy, i hope you'll retweet. diligently discoverable.




...and away we go!

that's what she said.

okay, here's the thing. i am running out of stuff to say. the daily adventures of me are wearing thin.

so.

the choice is: stop writing or get some better daily adventures.

i prefer the latter, and i am going to work on it, but until i have some sort of plan or i am ready to say something new... well... thing is... there will be a bit of a hiatus here.

now, now. don't get upset. this is not The End.

i promise.

in fact, i more than promise.

i do hereby and herein most solemnly and steadfastly swear to each and every one of the four of you, my loyal readers: i am not abandoning you.

i'm not saying when, but... i'll be back.

(cute sign, huh? yeah... it's sort of pathetic how many different types of these little "blog hiatus" placards exist... and of course, by pathetic, i mean, you know, comforting to me.)