It's a Journal, Charlie Brown

We wake up each morning

with a silent prayer to the marionette

to make us rise out of bed,

shovel cereal eggs toast bacon

and ride walk carpool hitchhike

in a rush to the desk

where our brain is literally put on hold

if lucky, for eight hours,

not ten twelve twenty.

Those long-gone carefree days

of tests papers lectures

have culminated in this catatonia,

the waiting until five o’clock

to magically spring back to life.

We will ride walk carpool hitchhike away like prisoners

leaving the concentration camp.

Tomorrow we will dredge up the motivation

to repeat our mediocre performance,

searching under rocks if we have to

for our joy.

Today I read that one of Glamour magazine's Women of the Year was Maya Angelou.  I know that I've read some of her books and poetry, but the article quoted a poem called "Phenomenal Woman."  I loved the excerpt so much that I had to find the whole poem, and it was worth it, one of those I-wish-I-wrote-it moments:

Another birthday has come and gone and thanks to everyone for their well-wishes.  This year, when people asked what I was going to do for my birthday or how I was going to celebrate it, I said that I was going to jump off a cliff.  The year before, I said I was going to step in front of a bus.  The year before that, I said I was going to put my head in the oven.  I have an electric oven, so I guess I just would have baked myself.  At any rate, it appears that I have some birthday anxiety.

I don't feel that this depression has anything to do with age.  38 is just a number.  Every year, I'm going to gain a year, so I have gotten used to the fact that my age is not going to get any better.  I'm not Benjamin Fucking Button here.  A 25-year-old might think that 38 is terribly old, but a 70 year-old would probably think a 38-year-old is terribly young.  Age is relative.  I get that.

I also think I look my age.  I look 38.  I'm OK with that.  I'm not trying to look 18 or even 28.  In fact, I feel better about myself and how I look at 38 than I did at 18 and 28.  My goal is just to be the best damn looking 38-year-old I can be.

I realized that my problem with 35, 36, 37, 38, and so on is that I don't fucking know what I'm doing.  I'm not lost.  I just don't know why I'm here.  What the hell am I doing?  I feel purposeless, pointless, redundant, obsolete. 

People who have children have a built-in reason for living and a definite purpose in life.  Even if they accomplish nothing else, they have raised their sons and daughters.  I don't have a burning need to have children, so I do not feel that this is my unfulfilled destiny.  I'm not having career angst, either.  I've just stayed at this party too long.  It's not just that I feel like I'm not serving any purpose in this world, but it's as if I'm a drain on society, which is silly.  I have supported myself for nearly 15 years on my own.  I have picked myself up and started over more times than I care to count, but I'm also tired of it too.  I'm tired of starting over.  I'm tired of working hard.  I'm fucking tired.

I have to keep going, inspirational crap, blah, blah, frickety blah.  I'm lucky and so on and so forth.  Perhaps 38 is the year when it will all become clear to me.

Big weekend event:  I am going to a wedding tomorrow night.  It has actually been a long time since I have been to a wedding. 

Least favorite wedding tradition: Tossing the bridal bouquet.  I refuse to be forced to take part in this fucking stupid tradition.  Let's make single women stand out in front of everyone like cattle in a pasture.  At some point, it must have been quaint, but now it's just outdated.  I'd rather do a keg stand. 

What I'm reading:  American Gods.  I don't know what's going on in this book, but I keep reading.  Really, what is this about? Gaiman almost lost me as a reader at the carousel, though.  I think I need Cliff's Notes.

Newest luxuries:  Today I got a manicure and pedicure for the aforementioned wedding, and I bought a sparkly headband.

What I've watched:  I am in the process of watching the last season of "Will & Grace" via DVD.  I went to the movie Julie & Julia this week after reading both books it was based on, Julie & Julia and My Life in France.  I have never really watched Julia Child's cooking show.  I may have paused while flipping through channels, but that's about it.  The thing is that I remembered her as sort of a dry and serious woman, but the character portrayed in the movie was bubbly and enthusiastic.  I don't know what to think of JC. 

I also watched I Love You Man, since it recently came out on DVD.  I have been seriously disappointed repeatedly by movies that were supposed to be funny that were not, so I did not have high hopes for this one.  It was much better than I expected!  I actually enjoy seeing funny or "funny" movies more at the theater because I love hearing the laughter of other people, and it makes the viewing a much more enjoyable experience.

What I've barfed up:  Everything I've ever eaten and most of my vital organs.  We had a potluck at work and several of us ended up with food poisoning.  Luckily, I was back to work on Tuesday. 

Net weight loss from barfing: Only one pound.  What a total rip off.

Kick in the pants:  I had to use one of my precious vacation days due to barfing from the company potluck.

What I'm pining for and shouldn't buy:  I found lovely trench coats at Target in an array of fun colors-- bright purple, royal blue, red, black, etc.  I really really want one, but also need to eat, so . . . I don't need a crystal ball to predict that the trench coat will not be purchased in the near future.  I really couldn't choose just one color anyway!

Annoying chore of the weekend:  Laundry.  And laundry.  And perhaps for a change of pace, laundry.

Proof that I'm a loser:  Blogging on Friday night.

This past year or so, I have made an effort to eat healthy foods and work out.  Monday night is the only night when I work out after work.  All my other work outs are in the morning.  One wouldn't think one night of exercise would be such a sacrifice, but when I emailed Todd that day, I wrote, "I'd just rather sit on the couch watching TV and eating candy bars."  Doesn't that just sound delicious?

So, I've compiled a list of my favorite candy/candy bars.  And typical of my lists, I will probably think of another favorite or two five minutes after I'm done.

10. Licorice.  Twizzler's RED licorice is my favorite.  Black licorice makes me hurl.  I do not like anything flavored like black licorice, either, even if it's liquor.

9.  Hot Tamales.  I love cinnamon flavor, including Big Red gum when I was a kid, although my mom seldom bought it.  At one of the offices I worked at, someone brought in a huge basket of community Hot Tamales, and I really felt as though I single-handedly ate most of them.

8.  Milky Way.  I prefer Milky Way to Snickers.  There, I've admitted it.  Cast stones if you will, but I do not like nuts in my candy bars or desserts.  Thus far, my favorite treat at the Fair is the fried Milky Way.  I've already started my fast in preparation of going this afternoon and having one.

7.  M & M's.  When I was young, I would sit with my aunt during church, and at some point during the sermon, she would bring a small gift box out of her purse.  It was a black and white cardboard box with a logo on it, about the size of an earring box a department store would give one to wrap a present.  Inside was plastic wrap, and inside the plastic wrap, were M & M's.  I'm not sure why my aunt didn't just use a baggie.  Perhaps she thought the M & M's would be crushed.  Anyway, I happily whiled away the sermon eating M & M's.  I wonder if I would go to church more often if I could eat M & M's?

6.  Star Burst.  I love this fruit flavored candy, although I can't remember the last time I bought any.  The last time I actually had a Starburst was at our 4th of July parade.  I nearly mowed down some kids diving for a couple of Starbursts that were thrown from a float.  It's OK, though, because I didn't actually know the kids.

5.  Skittles.  Ditto above with the artificial fruit flavoring.  We now have vending machines at work, but it's not the huge temptation I thought it would be.  A bag of Skittles can make an afternoon at work much more fun.

4. Dark chocolate- Dove or Ghiradelli.  One of my coworkers gave me Ghiradelli chocolate for Christmas, and now I am hooked, damnit.  I think it should be mandatory to have chocolate every day.  I eat two pieces for lunch every day for dessert, and it's only a little over 100 calories.

3. Godiva chocolates.  I am convinced that there is no such thing as a bad Godiva chocolate.  There could be a squirrel-poop Godiva chocolate covered in crushed-acorns-and-tree-bark, and I would eat it, and it would taste good.  I can eat an entire box and enjoy every last chocolate, which is not true of Russell Stover or similar.  I was going to buy a box of Godiva in honor of (Or perhaps in defiance of?) Valentine's Day, but I didn't want to take out a loan for chocolate.

2. Rollo.  I like Rollo because they're individual pieces of chocolate, but I must admit that they do come with a hazard.  I was attempting to open my Rollo at the movie theater to get my very first bite-sized piece, and I dropped it, and the whole thing ROLLED AWAY.  It was years ago, and I'm still traumatized.

1. My absolute favorite candy is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  Hands down. I really love the Christmas trees, eggs, and other holiday-inspired versions of the candy bar because they tend to be thicker than the cups.  I actually ended up compromising on Monday night.  I went to exercise class, and had a candy bar when I got back, which I ate while on my couch, watching TV.  I went to the convenience store to choose my bar, and I never realized that there are so many different versions of the cup.  There are BIG RPB cups. There's the King Size package, which was very tempting.  There are white chocolate cups.

I ended up with a whipped peanut butter bar, which was good, but not as rich as the cups, as you might imagine.  It did not disappoint, but I did miss the richness.  I am not one of those people who is bothered by a dessert's richness.  I won't cut a smaller piece or back down due to it.  It's almost embarrassing when other people quit half-way, and I'm plowing ahead, undeterred, but I'm 37 and too old to apologize for myself now.

When writing is going well, it's hard, and for most of us, most of the time it's not going all that well.  When students ask, "When did you know you might be a writer?  How did you know?," one of the things I tell them is that they may be designed for that life if (a) they need to do it in order to feel good about themselves, even though (b) doing it almost never makes them feel good about themselves.

And that's before we get to writer's block.  All of us, beginners and veterans, run head-on into those despair-inducing stretches when the blank pages just peers back at us and even the dog looks over in pity while we sit there, exposed and empty-headed, our mouths ajar.  What made us think we had anything to express?  Or any facility with language with which to express it?

What are we supposed to do when the analytic voices on our shoulders intervene too quickly and start attacking every impulse or idea in its cradle by announcing that its simply not original enough, not arresting enough, not good enough?  Well, as far as I'm concerned, it's not just, as a famous writer once famously suggested, a matter of lowering our standards.  It's also a matter of remembering that we need to reconnect with the notion of this sort of creation as play.

I wanted to post a wonderful excerpt by Jim Shepard.  He writes about writing and how writing should be play, how we may not know how our final product will turn out, but we should still write anyway:

We don't know, exactly, what we're doing when we're starting something.  We have a vague and skeletal and oafish idea that we articulate to ourselves as a justification for beginning, but that's about it . . .

If that's true, and we don't know what we're doing at first, then at least for a little while when we're trying to compose something, we need to remember to cut ourselves some slack.  There'll be plenty of time for brutality later, when revising the mess we made.  But we need to be allowed to make that mess in the first place.  When we shut ourselves down prematurely, it's as if we came across a child happily playing in the sandbox and asked what she was making, and when she said she didn't know, we told her, "Then get out of the sandbox.  If you don't know what you're making, you have no business in there."  Or if she answered, "I'm making a castle," we responded, "Oh, a castle.  That's original.  No one's ever made a castle before."

That girl in the sandbox has every right to respond, "I don't know if it's original.  I won't know until I've made it."

We need to do everything we can to stay in touch with pleasure.  With fun.  With the passionate engagement that we all manage, as children.  Not only because that will keep us going but also because it will generate the freedom and the energy that allow us to exhilarate ourselves, and so exhilarate others.

1. I am a consumer. 

I picked up the book Not Buying It by Judith Levine at Barnes Noble.  Basically, the woman in the book and her partner decide to NOT be consumers for a year.  They will not buy clothing, electronics, sporting goods, books, music-- really, anything you can think of, for a year.  In addition to not buying, they will also not spend money on any entertainment, so no movies, sporting events, restaurants, theater, or concerts.  They still buy groceries, of course, and necessities, like toilet paper and cleaning supplies,  but there is some disagreement about what is a necessity.  Are Q-tips a necessity?  Is alcohol, such as a bottle of wine, an necessity, or a can it just fall under the heading of "groceries," and thus be allowed? Naturally, there is also some cheating. Levine buys clothes on two occasions and not because she needs them, because she wants them.  The rules of the experiment are that they cannot purchase meals in restaurants or go to the movies, but if someone else pays, they did allow it.  The only happened a couple of times, but I would also consider this cheating, but they didn't.

I honestly have to admit that I could not do this for a year.  In fact, I don't even think I could do it for a month, and I don't even want to try.  The author and her partner lived in New York part of the year, so she did have access to a greater wealth of free entertainment, like a huge library, museums, and poetry open mic nights at clubs.  What would trip me up more is my interest in clothes and shopping.  I am not in debt due to my love for clothes, but I could certainly could and should cut down.  I also know that everyone has a weak spot, so I'm not going to flog myself for it.

Everyone has a different idea of what serious debt is.  The author didn't propose the experiment because she was on the brink of bankruptcy or even close to it.  She simply felt that she had too much "stuff," as most people do.  However, over the course of the year, the couple was able to wipe away $9000 of credit card debt, which was just another perk of the challenge.

2.  I just don't like fish.  Really. 

I received a recipe for tilapia from my best friend and decided to try it. I know that Todd likes tilapia because he has ordered it at restaurants and enjoyed it.  I know that fish makes a healthy meal, but I have never really liked it, although I don't know if I can say I have really given it much of a fair shot.  My early exposure to fish was the awful scent of catfish caught from creek behind our house being breaded and fried in our kitchen as a child.  My mom really didn't want me to have any of it, due to the bones, and I was not disappointed.  Naturally, school lunches consisted of reconstituted fish patties that were probably a very small amount of fish with unidentified filler, so these sandwiches don't really count.  I tried shrimp at a local Japanese restaurant because it was part of the meal, but I did not like the texture of it.  It's sinewy.  Gross.  A date once took me out for sushi.  Contrary to popular belief, sushi is not "raw fish."  It is lightly and/or briefly cooked.  My date promised me I would love it.  I went the whole nine yards, which was unusual for me-- I tried every kind of sushi he ordered and ate with chopsticks, which I never done before.  I did not drop a single morsel of food.  I did have to work hard to try to forget while I was eating that there was fish in my mouth.  I never gagged or spit anything out.  None of it was terrible, but I can only really say that it was just OK, and for the price of the food, it's really not worth it for me to go back for sushi. 

At any rate, my friend and her kids loved the tilapia, so I wanted to try it. The recipe was great, but it still tasted like fish.  I guess it would make sense that fish tastes like fish . . . It's like wishing there were no robots in the movie I-Robot . . . 

To date, I have never tried lobster or crab either (I don't think crab rangoons count because where the fuck is the crab in all that cream cheese?), but I don't know if I need to now.

3. I'm in live with an electronic device . . . 

No, not that, you flippin' dirty birds.  My iPod Shuffle.  Our relationship started off in a very rocky way.  I understand that the device is probably supposed to be considered idiot-proof, but the Apple people have no idea who purchased the pod.  I had Todd help me set it up, but I discovered the next day that it didn't appear to have charged.  My cat also tried to chew on it.  I have an iPod with a couple of teeth marks now.  Downloading the songs to my computer was fairly easy, but I had difficulties actually transferring the music to my iPod.  I eventually managed to do it, but I have no idea how.  That should make the next download as delightful as the first.

I can understand how it might be easy to spend one's entire paycheck on iTunes.  I limited myself to nine songs I wanted, spending just a little over ten dollars.  I'm sure that I will be tired of my nine songs quite soon.  I actually have a running list of songs I want to buy.  I also know that I can put my own CD music on the iPod, but I don't know if I've recovered enough yet from the first round to figure that out yet.

The iPod seems perfect for me because I don't really like entire albums.  I fall in love with a song more often than a particular artist, so in the past, I would have to resist the urge of buying a CD just because there was one song I wanted.  Unfortunately, I also have CD's I've purchased that I haven't completely listened to. The mix CD is a smarter purchase, but iTunes is even better because I can buy every single song I love.  Hence, I'm playing the shit out of my nine songs, and I'm still enjoying them!

4.  I can always do more. 

This was actually a horrible revelation.  I have been working out for roughly a year, minus a hiatus or two for the holidays or out of sheer frustration.  I know that I've written about it often, but I don't really feel that I've noticed a difference in the way I look or feel this entire time.  My clothes don't fit better.  In fact, some of the clothes I bought just last summer in a larger size seem snug.  I don't notice that any parts of my body are any more toned than when I started.  I certainly have not lost any weight, which I admit, was my goal.  I didn't want to lose a significant amount, but as it turns out, I cannot lose even five pounds.

I am stubborn, and I have dug in my heels.  People have told me I don't "need" to lose weight, and that's true, but I want to.  And the amount I would like to lose is not unhealthy.  People have told me to give up and just live with it.  Buy bigger clothes.  I just won't fucking give up.  I think people telling me to stop just pisses me off more and make me more determined.  I've started running, which I never thought I'd do.  The iPod purchase was to help keep me motivated.  I'm getting up at 5 a.m. to go to exercises classes, which is also something I never thought I'd do.  I've always said that any time before 6 a.m. is unholy, but I'm getting up almost every single week day to work out.  I'm working out 6-7 days per week, which is something I didn't think I was capable of.  I'm eating better than I have for a long time. 

Even after all this, I have not seen any results, but I keep realizing I can do more.  I'm not talking about starving myself, diet pills, or any other extremes.  I'm just using my creativity to try different things, experimenting to see if I can be successful.  I read an article that featured women who had lost significant amounts of weight, 80-100 pounds.  While I do not fall into this category, I was appalled to find that most of the women worked out more than once per day.  Holy fuck!  I hadn't even thought of that and wished I hadn't found out!

5. Don't pay for full price for clothes. 

This may be hypocritical after number one, but I'm nothing if not contradictory.  I often get discount cards in the mail for my favorite stores.  $15 off your purchase.  $30 off a $100 purchase.  $50 off a $150 purchase.  I realize what the cards are designed for-- to get you into the store when you had not even planned to go shopping.  However, if you really want or need something, it's best to take advantage, and used wisely, you can save a lot of money.  When I see something I want shopping, I often don't buy it, but may go back days or weeks later to purchase what I saw if it's been on my mind.  If I've forgotten about it, then obviously it wasn't important.  There was a lovely royal blue ruffled shirt that I wanted at my favorite store, but it cost $39.50, which was too much for me to pay.  A week later, I received a discount card in the mail for $15 off.  When I went to purchase the top, it rang up at $23, not $39.50.  In addition, I received the $15 discount, so I got the shirt I wanted for roughly $8. I saw another shirt I had "had my eye on" from months ago at a different store. It was on sale for half price, but then I also had a $10 off card, so I got the shirt for $2!  I am now completely outfitted for summer!

I have to admit that I like Kathy Griffin's show My Life on the D List, but what I like more are the comedy specials.  It's so fun to hear her dish about celebrities and what it's like to interact with them.  She always ends the show with a flourish, and on the latest, she told a fabulous story about Betty White. 

Kathy Griffin was going to present an award, either an Emmy or a Grammy, with Don Rickles.  During the rehearsal, she met Don Rickles, who was sitting with Mary Tyler Moore and Betty White.  When Kathy approached them, she complimented Mary Tyler Moore, telling her she looked fabulous, and MTM thanked her and promptly walked away.  In typical Kathy fashion, she asked Don Rickles if he has ever slept with Mary Tyler Moore.  He laughed and said no. Betty White piped up and said, "I fucked him."

Some people might think I'm sick or crazy, but for the first time in my life this morning, I got up at 5 a.m. and went running . . . Just a year or two ago, about the only thing that got me out of bed was the thought of my first cigarette.  I was much more likely to smoke eight cigarettes before 6 a.m. than I was to go running.

I should probably use the word running with quotation marks.  I went "running."  There is really no way I would set out on a twenty minute run at this time in my life, regardless of how long I've been going to step aerobics classes, kick boxing, Y-Pump, etc.  What I was doing was called "interval running," which seemed to me a much smarter way to start running.  The article I found online included an eight-week schedule.  The first week involves an interval of walking for two minutes, then running for one minute.  The interval was to be repeated ten times for a total of thirty minutes.  The idea is that after the first minute of interval running, one's heart rate would be up and would continue to be elevated even during the walking intervals.  The beauty part is I would have been completely unable to run non-stop for thirty minutes and would have felt like failure, but I did not, since I had a schedule to follow that gave me permission to walk.

What drove me to get up at 5 a.m. was that I wanted to be able to get ready for work at a leisurely pace.  I also knew that I would look like a dork running around with some sort of timing device, so best to run early in the morning, when I would be less likely to encounter other people.  I also knew I would probably be huffing and puffing like an eighty-year-old post coitus, so again, the fewer people who saw me, the better.  It was fairly light out at 5, but it was easier to see the time on my cell phone face than my watch face, so I used it to time my intervals.  To be honest, I lost track of my how many intervals I finished.  I believe I did 8-9, leaning more heavily towards 9.  At nine, I was nearly ready for cardiac arrest, so it was good I had my cell phone in hand.

The intervals are to increase each week. At week two, for instance, I am supposed to walk one minute and run one minute for a total of fifteen intervals.  I am noticing now on the schedule that walk is actually supposed to be a "brisk walk," but at one point for me, I'm sure my brisk walk degenerated to a hobble.  At any rate, by the final week, one should be able to walk one minute and run nine minutes, for a total of three intervals.  So, I will still be spending thirty minutes "running," but only three of those minutes will be spent at the "brisk walk," or being pushed on a stretcher.

To be honest, I do not know if I will continue "running."  My goal was to try it twice this week to see how I like it.  My work out this morning was not totally hideous (until the wheezing in interval 8-9). It was quite peaceful at 5 a.m., although it was very difficult to get out of bed.  My main problem was boredom.  I really need an i-Pod or similar.  I need some distraction from being winded by running, and my naked brain is not up to the challenge, particularly that early in the morning.  When I'm merely walking, my personal CD player and ear pieces (not a ghetto blaster on my shoulder, mind you) work just fine, but trying to run with the CD player would be like a DJ scratching records.  I know because I've tried it.  If only the i-Pod was in my budget.  I will, of course, blame any failure on lack of electronic equipment . . .