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December 31, 2004
the year
the cats are unconcerned about the impending end, unbothered and apparently unexcited by the impending beginning. by habit, i have a little regret that i'm here alone tonight. but i've opened and poured just one celebratory bottle of harp, annointed it with the lime juice. the new peter gabriel video collection is playing, and i've set it to a song called "the drop."
the song was borne from the idea of preparing to jump from a plane, seeing the clouds below, but not being able to see where you'll land, "no idea where they're going, but down." i suppose every day of life is a bit like that, but what better time to consider it, than tonight?
just like last year, 2004 seems to be a well-defined era of my life. last year was The Rebuilding, the struggles to regain my footing career-wise, to believe in myself and in life again, and even to get back into a sort of physical condition that i could feel good about. i was also struggling to reconnect with the world, and with many of my friends. the course of 2003 was somewhat painful, because so much of what I was doing seemed like just getting by, with no goal in sight. yet, at midnight last new year's eve, i stood alone for a moment in a club slammed with people, and felt the turn being made. i knew this year would be more about being than struggling.
by and large, i was right. i was a different person in 2004, with a vastly different life. still, i didn't make it quite as far as i may have hoped. still haven't changed the world, still haven't even changed my life. still a lawyer. still in an apartment. still struggling from time to time to keep perspective.
a few days ago, i told someone i've never met, but that i consider a friend, that she can't judge herself and her accomplishments and contributions against all that's happening in the world. she can't match herself up against a tsunami, the loss of 120,000 lives. she can't match herself up against genocide, or war. we can each only be expected to match up to and, yeah, exceed to some extent, what can be expected from one individual. and to best do that, we have to match up to our own personal wars, be it interpersonal, emotional, physical, financial, or whatever.
i haven't done as much as this friend, or many of my friends have. i've focused on myself this year, probably so much that i wasted some valuable time and resources along the way. but i've gotten myself almost to the point where i can take the next, bigger steps to be the person i should be, and make the contributions i should make.
a lot has happened. by mid-january, i had lost 20 pounds, and i felt stronger, healthier. i started buying new clothes after that, not only to fit my new shape, but my new outlook. i was more confident, more bold. baggy gave way to fitted, grays and neutrals to reds and blues, the new colors of my imagination and openness to life. i went on tons of dates with some pretty cool people, got published, began writing in earnest for the first time in my life, coached a team of wonderful women to a championship, sang, had an audience rolling with laughter reading a story at the texas book festival. i've renewed friendships once lost, and made new friends that i know are going to be around for a long time.
i began training for a half-marathon, and it's helped me regain my ability to push myself past pain and doubt and fear, to focus, to demand better, attributes i really feared that i'd lost.
there are some things that it would be rude to count, but here are my estimates, without identifiers: 6, 2, 2, 8, 1, 17, and 812, the last of which is probably less than you'd think.
so, for a life, this is all certainly not much, not nearly enough. maybe it's not even enough for a year, but it's something, isn't it? it's momentum, proof of my renewed ability to press on, proof of the value and quality of the people around me, and, of course, proof of the ever-recurring theme, hope.
so, tonight is only an ending because i choose it to be so, and tomorrow a beginning only because i choose it to be so. these choices can be made in any moment, on any day, but like last year, like 355 days, 23 hours and 59 minutes or so ago, the timing just happens to be right, as it probably always is, to continue to demand change in my life, and in me. no resolutions here, but just a continuation of what been begun in my life this last year, with the intent of reaching new goals on the way.
i know i'm not alone in this, either in the experience or in empathy - i wish you all the best luck and love in your own journey from here onward, and thanks for riding shotgun with me this far.
cheers.
Posted by Rob at 11:59 PM | Comments (1)
where will your heart be at midnight?
So, I know it's not the biggest deal right now, not the biggest thing we can do, but I'm looking at how the rest of the world is both realistically and symbolically paying its respect to what's happened in Asia.
One of the most incredible things in the aftermath of 9/11 was the sharing of respect and grief around the world. The Brits flew the U.S. flag over Buckingham Palace, 100,000 Canadians marched in Ottawa, there were public shows of support across Europe and Asia. It was a brief, wonderful moment of humanity without so many borders.
I know we're doing things - we're, uhh... sending Jeb Bush... (though I wish we had sent him over, or sent him anywhere else, about 5 years ago). Seems like everyone I know is giving what for them are significant sums of money to aid organizations.
The flags outside my office appear to be at full mast. A review of CNN, MSNBC, and other online news websites, as well as the local "newspaper" reveals no special plans, no moderating of celebrations here. One of the major domestic headlines is the yearly concern over whether it will rain on the Rose Bowl Parade. Did I sleep through the American moment of silence?
The only thing I've seen is a suggestion in an email from www.moveon.org. Don't bother looking for it on their website - it's not there - there's only a page with an email form riding the Bush administration for not doing enough. More on that suggestion in a moment.
Look, it's not that everything should shut down. Go, have fun. Let the football games be played. But it's an opportunity to raise money, and an opportunity to, if nothing else, show some symbolic support. I hope I'm just oblivious, but I don't see it happening, not on a community or national level. I'm a bit embarassed, quite frankly.
Personally, I figure I could easily have spent $100 tonight on cover charges and alcohol and, potentially, other party favors, all of which will make me feel like crap tomorrow. So, that $100 is currently zipping through the ether to the American Red Cross' International Response Fund. I'll be chillin' at home, watching some basketball, doing some writing, and maybe renting some flicks. If that sounds like fun to anyone, give me a shout.
This, incidentally, was in MoveOn's email:
Just as we were finalizing this email, we received a note from 17-year-old MoveOn member Annalise Blum, who has a great idea for New Year's Eve parties. Here's her email:
Dear Joan and Wes,
We arrived in Cambodia today and turned on the TV in our hotel room to learn more about the Tsunami. It has been horrifying to follow the rising death toll and especially learn about all of the children who have died. I really wanted to do something when I learned that just as many more people could die from lack of access to clean water and the spread of disease if not enough is done quickly.
I realized that New Years Eve Parties would be a perfect place to have people contribute online to the relief effort. Someone in our group came up with the name "Throw out a lifeline Online."
If MoveOn were to send out a message to its members suggesting that they turn on a computer and donate money to one of the relief organizations at their new years eves parties, it could save thousands of lives. Maybe this sort of message would be a welcome opportunity for its members to help people directly. I would greatly appreciate anything you could do to help.
Below I have written a message I am planning send to my friends. MoveOn, if interested, could send out something similar.
Throw Out A Lifeline Online
Help the Victims of the South Asian Tsunami
As most of you undoubtedly know, many parts of the eastern coastal regions of South Asia were hit on Sunday, December 26th, with one of the largest tsunamis in recent history. The death toll of the tsunami, caused by an earthquake of 9.0 magnitude, has already risen to over 60,000 people. All regions affected are in desperate need of clean water, food, temporary shelter and medical help to the survivors. Some estimate that one third of the dead are children.
World Health Organization expert David Nabarro told reporters "there is certainly a chance that we could have as many dying from communicable diseases as from the tsunami".
Start this year off by contributing money to an effective aid organization to prevent this humanitarian catastrophe from getting even worse. If you are going to a New Year's Eve Party, make it meaningful by turning on a computer and encouraging everyone to donate.
Posted by Rob at 10:23 AM | Comments (2)
December 29, 2004
lest i forget
God gives, and he takes – and gives, and takes. What's hard is dealing with the gaps between the giving and the taking, wondering if the giving will come back around in time to mean something.
one more, please.
yes, you're a good cat.
let's have less light.
"i'm... thinkin' it's a sign, that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images, and when we kiss, they're perfectly aligned..."
breathe.
today was a reminder. i believe in a higher consciousness in the universe, but not one that toys with us or manipulates our fates, and is far more powerful and meaningful for it. i believe that the universe gives and takes, and gives and takes, through no malice or benevolence, no real design, but yet not entirely at random. things simply unfold, without meaning in and of themselves. increasingly, i believe that we ascribe meaning to events by our reactions to them, and that somewhere in all that lies the whole point.
i remember thinking at some time, from a conversation with lori, that "you can no more force the universe to unfold as it should than you can force an acorn to grow into an oak." i now believe that there is no "should" involved, but that we still can't force the universe to unfold as we might want or expect it to.
but inevitably, the unfolding of the universe gives us reminders, whether it is the sudden and horrific punctuated fall of thousands of people, or stubbing our toe in the morning. what do we learn, what do we see about what it is to be us, to be human?
my reminder today is more on the stubbed toe end of things, almost sinful to talk about in light of what else is going on today. but it was inescapable, there despite my efforts, no matter which way i turned. the exact cause is difficult to determine or isolate: lack of sleep, the stutter in my medication in anticipation of finally getting my blood drawn today (which still didn't happen, despite my second trip in two days to the phlebotomy pit), or the impact of everything else happening in the world.
i've felt so good lately. moments of doubt were intellectual, not visceral. the feelings were still there, but i could press on past the sea of troubles, and, theoretically, by opposing end them. today, not so much. i was anxious. the wringing of hands and rubbing of my chin from years ago recurred. following a conversation with a problematic complainant, a ballpoint pen (that, fortunately, was showing signs of an end to its long life in my service), paid a horrible, terrible price. four or five times today, i fought off tears. granted, they came at things i should probably cry for - pictures of thailand in november, the sight of the headlines today, a few pieces of music, something someone said...
it was hard to put my heart into work, but i looked forward to the training group tonight, to seeing my running friends there. the end of the day came, i changed, and i waited in the RunTex Store for Psychotic Running People's parking lot. the anxiety wouldn't let up, and my friends didn't make it out. i set off on the run, and i ran the hill workout hard. the people in general in this group seem to be unusual, as if they were hand-picked for their personalities. they slowly wore down my urge to withdraw, to reinforce my own isolation.
the hill workout itself, six loops of a short course, helped, too, giving me something to focus on. i hit a hard pace to begin with, and though it really shouldn't be competitive, i took a definite lead. there was still a curious mental battle in the fourth lap, some hideous voice in my head trying to shut it all down, the voice from before that demanded meaning, decreed there was none, declared that there was no point, that it would all end the same way.
then, a woman passed me, and another. i told the voice to fcuk off. i focused in the last two and a half laps on pacing myself on the slow parts, saving up to make some gain or at least keep myself within reach on the hills, where we were supposed to go hard. i was able to keep up, and was able to catch and pass one person in a full sprint over the last couple of blocks. i've had to learn, whether in softball, basketball, or running, to ditch any macho male bullshit. much respect to those two girls that passed me. they ran smarter, and were able to catch up to and defeat the considerable lead i had.
the lift and distraction that the running experience gave me passed, though - i couldn't hold on to it. i stopped at best buy to get some stuff with a gift card my dad got me (for god's sake, continue to avoid any major retail outlet for as long as possible - it's just ridiculous). another couple of episodes of feeling... overemotional on the way home. and, i couldn't get ahold of a few of the people i needed to talk to, and i felt again like i was in a vacuum.
but the universe is always unfolding, and the phone rang. a friend i fear losing in some way called and wanted to hang for a drink. i disguised the post-run stinkiness with nice clothes and some cologne, and met her to split a couple of margaritas. and now, here i am, a few more lager and limes deep, the lights off, the cats around me, the garden state soundtrack playing softly (at this point, it's safe to say it will always be a reliable musical friend for me). a little while ago, another good friend dropped me an email, and it made me happy, made me feel a little connected again.
so i feel ok, now, at 12:15am. i feel good that through it all, i didn't lose my relatively newfound faith in the future, in my view that the universe will, as i've said, continue to unfold. i didn't lose my faith in following the path that is, moment by moment, by chance and choice, laid before me. and that is a significant victory for me. but i don't forget where i've been, and where i could return to, if i don't keep on that path...
a note, by the way. i've opened myself up a lot in these entries, sometimes for the sake of comedy (i really don't have "relations" with myself, as stated in a previous entry. of course not. please. i am so above that. that would just be... anyway...) and sometimes because i think there's value to me as a writer, maybe value to someone who might relate, to let go and tell the truth. i tend to not write about people i date, and some people don't and hopefully won't ever have this address.
it has occurred to me, though, that there are some newer readers who don't know me so well. maybe one in particular that i kinda worry about. i hope they're not put off, but i've got to stop conditioning who i am and what i do on fear. please know that i'm not crazy, dangerous, or hard to deal with. i'm worth getting to know. but this is part of me, too, and the right people in my life don't seem to have a problem with it. i hope you become one of those people...
Posted by Rob at 12:29 AM | Comments (0)
December 28, 2004
do something
The numbers are so profound in size as to be meaningless. 33,000 dead currently from the tsunamis. More recent counts from Indonesia will likely raise that number to 60,000. Think of a large college football stadium, the bleachers and field full, but absolutely silent.
The heat and the inability to deal with collecting, transporting and disposing of bodies will inevitably cause the toll to rise even higher. In many areas, there is no water, no gas, no surviving infrastructure, in some countries that already had massive problems before the tsunamis hit Sunday morning. Hospitals are beyond overloaded. It is likely to be the costliest natural disaster in history.
I know you've gotten all this already, in much more detail, with video footage and photographs. Things are being done - the United Nations is in motion, the United States has even increased its aid pledge to $35 million, and is even sending an already stretched-thin military to help in Thailand.
So, it's easy, in a way, to watch, and let it pass as just more news. With the war, and other disasters, and genocide, and atrocities that happen in our own neighborhoods, and drama in our own lives, it's natural to draw little concentric self-protective circles around ourselves and our hearts, a target with the values growing lower as the impact is farther from us. We want to know how many Americans were involved. 12, as if it matters. Then we want to know if it was anyone from our community, and within that, if it's anyone we're connected to by less than a few degrees of separation. We need to know what boundaries have been breached, what level of grief is appropriate. God, I hope that's not just me, but I'd be happier if it were just me.
But I visited one of my favorite blogs last night, and again this morning. Its author, Julie, chronicled in words and incredible pictures her recent trip to Thailand. I had kept up with her reports eagerly at the time. I was enraptured by the beauty there, not only in the landscape, but the people. There is in the photographs a resonance, a familiarity, seeing how far away and how close we are at once. For a month or so, my desktop image on my home computer is of lightning over the sea there.
It's difficult to read her descriptions of the country and the people, to look at the pictures, and realize so much of it is gone. She was even talking about wanting to move there for some period of time.
Looking back on her accounts and pictures this morning, the event impacted a second time, this time at the bullseye, the way it should have the first I heard of it.
Today, Julie threw out a challenge, donating $100 to the Canadian Red Cross and asking readers to match it.
I know that we all try to do our part in some way - most of the people that visit this site volunteer, get involved to help those that need it. I think Julie did this much better, without being all preachy, but the bottom line is, I'm taking her up on her challenge, and asking anyone who can to do the same.
Is it financially sound for me to do this? No. But it's all relative, isn't it? How many times was it financially sound for me to buy a new pair of basketball shoes, or to spend $20, $40, or $60 out eating and drinking, or even more on a fairly pointless date?
We skip a few expensive nights out this month, and maybe someone gets some clean water and food. $100. How easy is that to spend, paid into the machine, a little of which may trickle into the hands of people that really need it?
There will always be need in the world, and we can only do so much, but those facts don't absolve us of our responsibility to do something now. At the end of the day, everyone benefits from us erring on the side of just a little sacrifice. Let's do what we can, just because we can. And if you can't do the money, that's cool, too. Just care, and maybe send a prayer, or hope, or positive energy, or whatever you believe works in this universe, because damn it, some of it does.
Oh, and while Julie deserves some props, we don't necessarily have to give the freakin' Canadians all the credit. There's a lot of organizations that are involved - take yer pick.
Posted by Rob at 02:34 PM | Comments (2)
December 27, 2004
normalcy
click to enlarge. do it. DO IT NOW!
thank you. i strongly suggest you just skip to the other pictures below, unless the halcion/atavan/dilaudid ain't cutting it for you today.
it's the dead week. the blur of the thanksgiving to christmas/chanukah/winter solstice period slammed right into the actual activity of christmas/chanukah/winter solstice, completely without pause or hesitation, then everything ended rather abruptly. now, regardless of what i do, there's that sense of waiting, of the in-betweeness of the christmas to new year's stretch. reflection is a bit inevitable for me after this year, and for where i'm at now. the coming year is anticipated, but it's sort of like knowing you're leaving work in five minutes, and there's not really a point in starting that last settlement order, article, table of clothes to fold, or sex act for your last "massage" customer of the day. hey, i'm just trying to put this in terms my friends can relate to.
plus, i think i had looked forward to christmas vacation as, well, a vacation. don't get me wrong - i had a good time.
christmas eve morning was nutty. one of the cats had was either ill or had decided to revolt against the conventional, mandated peeing-in-the-litter-box procedure, deciding instead that the couch would do nicely. that consumed a couple of hours and a small chunk of money. my cats now have his and hers litterboxes. my couch now smells like chemicals rather than urine. such is life with cats.
christmas eve and day went pretty well with my parents, except that for the 83rd time, my stepdad asked why his computer had two or three extra internet search bars, and a steady stream of pop-ups. this time, my patience exhausted, i went straight to the history file, and told him that by and large, they came from visiting disreputable web sites.
at his suggestion, we quickly moved on to my original task of showing him how to load photos from his digital camera to his computer, which, though almost completely automated, i am certain he no longer remembers how to do.
i loved my exciting new soniccare toothbrush, thrilling new shoes from dad, gift cards for best buy and starbucks (if you harass me about it, no espresso brownie for you), and the thought of the cool new clothes i'll be able to get when i return the plaid polo long-sleeved shirt to dillard's.
i also had a good time during my friend mara's impromptu visit. we watched movies, ate, chatted a lot, made fun of australia. ok, that was mostly me. but good fun.
thing is, i needed time. i've needed time, more than a weekend, to totally get outside of everything. i had today off, but it was too short. several hours were spent doing some outside legal work for a longtime friend, work that has so far only paid me in some admittedly yummy mole enchiladas from el azteca.
i then went to have my blood drawn, something i was supposed to do two weeks ago. on arrival, i was reminded that i wasn't supposed to be tested until after 12 hours of my last dose of depakote.
i then went to the bank, and deposited the check i got for christmas from mom. on the way to the mall, i got distracted by the amazing-looking afternoon sky to the west. i then spent 30 minutes in heavy traffic trying to find a spot to capture it from. i was making my third pass trying to get on the upper deck of a flyover, where i was prepared to take a blind shot out my open window, when i realized the shot was gone. stupid power lines. stupid trees.
i went to the apple store, which looks like a set from thx 1138, to find a particular case for my iPod. there, i enjoyed the ever-popular declining of the card. a call to the bank revealed that the check i got for christmas from mom had been promptly eaten upon deposit by bank fees, because i used the wrong debit card to fill my gluttonous suv, which has been for sale for 18 months now, with gas the other day. (incidentally, looking at the ad for my truck, it appears that the shorter ad i submitted for the print version of auto trader has replaced the longer, more detailed info i had online. nice.)
i have thoroughly annoyed myself with my financial behavior in general. i am dedicating myself to fixing that, however. austerity measures will be imposed. new year's celebrations will consist of a six pack of harp (down from my usual 12), music barely audible so's not to anger the looney 6'2" woman that lives beneath me, and possibly cat slinging. oliver and mama cat do not suspect.
anyway, i left the mall, full of the afore-mentioned annoyance at myself. i went to town lake and ran the five miles required by my training schedule, since the most physical thing i've done since last tuesday night was the having of intimate relations. with myself. i also folded some clothes and carried them from the dryer to the closet. ok, no i didn't, they're still on the dryer. needless to say, between the eating and almost complete lack of activity, the five miles was a little difficult.
afterwards, i went to take some photos of an image i saw the other night. stupid power lines. stupid trees. however, as i got back in my car after trying to take some shots of the power plant, as seen above, i heard that train a' comin. i tried to get some shots, and the engineer guy tooted the horn at me and waved. i was unable to determine whether or not he had a cool hat.
even afterwards, there were calls to be made. i spent most of the night on the phone or instant messaging, while i wrestled with some of the latest batch of photos and how to better post them, which is still untested. do ya see pictures? if so, well, you can figure it out.
so, i struggle to get it all under control, to regain normalcy so that i can once again work to make things better than "normal".
on the other hand - and i hate to be maudlin, a word i don't really know the definition of but think might work here, and i don't want to be... uhh... effusively or tearfully sentimental, since we get bludgeoned with enough of that crap this time of year - i can't help but feel a little silly. i haven't lost anyone. my home is not washed away.
i'm not playing the "it could be worse" card. that's a line of crap, a cop-out in itself. but, i know i can't take my time and the gifts the universe has given me for granted. must do and see and write and enjoy my friends as much as i can. because as much as we dot our lives with red-letter days and holidays and seasons, the truth is, life and the universe do not know those things, do not stop or wait for them. and neither should i.
ok, my apologies for the last couple of syrupy entries. it's as if... oh my god, it's some sort of voodoo retribution from james taylor! leave me alone, and stay out of my head, you nasally guitar-strumming demon! you are a handyman for the devil!
anyway. wow. so, this one really sucked. like, awkwardly so. hmm.
uhh...
collateral is a really good movie.
err... how bout that russian election, huh? damn... oh, i know - AND NOW, SOME PICTURES!
uh, huh, huh... it's a bunch of slots...
Posted by Rob at 11:23 PM | Comments (0)
December 23, 2004
doing the christmas dance with my dad
so, dad, my real dad in south carolina, whom my friend and former boss robin believes is elvis, called me a little while ago. he is just now beginning his christmas shopping frenzy. supporting the optimistic idea that every generation should evolve and improve marginally on the last, it should be noted that I began mine yesterday during my lunch hour. i hereby claim my 24 hours worth of organizational/moral superiority over my forebears.
anyway, since my dad and i were reunited back in, err... 1998(?), every christmas, every birthday, he's given gifts in really big ways. every day for almost seven years, I carry the first gift he gave me, a black montblanc pen, one of my most treasured possessions. in 2000, it was the awesome pioneer amplifier that has powered countless movie nights and annoyed the crazy woman downstairs.
in recent years, wanting me to have choices, he sends me gift cards, for best buy, barnes and noble, or bed bath & beyond. they're always like, $250 and stuff - crazy amounts. i cherish the things i've bought with these cards - from the xbox to the little leather-bound notebook, to comforters, duvet covers, sheets, and calphalon cookware (yeah, did i mention that i'm totally not gay?), to every cd and dvd i've used the cards for. as cool as it is, i've tried to dissuade him from spending so much on me. maybe i should send the gift cards back or something, but i'm only so good.
so, today, he called to ask which store would have more accessories and stuff for my glorious new iPod, best buy or circuit city. i went with best buy, and once again exhorted him not to spend so much. this has, of course, never done any good.
in a previous blog entry a few days ago, i dropped an oh-so-not-so-subtle hint to any south carolinian readers about some cool shoes i had found. no, not another pair of basketball shoes for the collection, but shoes that i can sport with shorts, jeans, khakis, or whatever, instead of the ever-present basketball shoes. my style-conscious friends will rejoice. yeah, they're still nikes, yeah, they are still essentially sneakers, but several friends have already acknowledged that they're a step in the right direction.
so today, i'm thinking, if he's about to drop $200 or $250 like he usually does, and there's only so much i'll get with it at best buy, then maybe it'd be better to tell him about the shoes, if he hadn't seen the blog entry yet. so, i called him back, and the awkward dance began, because i felt like i was asking for something, and he, being him, still wants to do big things for me, and i'm thinking $119 is still a lot of freakin' money, especially considering he's retiring this month, but on the other hand, it's potentially less than i feared he was likely to spend, but what if i'm wrong and he's finally realized he doesn't have to spend that much, and that a $25 gift card would be freakin' outstanding...
and so, we danced. and i felt a bit funky afterwards, a bit guilty. but this is nothing new.
in our short time together, my dad's always given me everything. he's given me all these gifts, all the gift cards. he's loaned me money that i only needed as a result of my own irresponsibility, often giving me more than i asked for, whenever i asked for it, always refusing to call it a loan.
i fear that he does these things because he feels guilt about not being there while i was growing up, that he feels he owes me something.
but he's never owed me anything - it was not his fault that we became estranged. he tried to see me when i was 18, and i stupidly, ignorantly declined.
i fear he feels the need to compete with what my mother, and more notably, my stepfather, have given me. my mother and stepfather have indeed given me a lot, material and otherwise, but there has been a lot given and taken between us, so often a cost, emotional or otherwise, for what they've given me, and to be fair, for what i've been to them.
my real father does have the advantage of never having to be put in that position with me. but i know him, and had i grown up with him, i just don't believe those costs would have been as high.
but in his absence, he's done his part, paid a cost. for 26 years or so, he kept his love for an unseen, unheard-from son very much alive, without even photographs, fueled only by his imagination and his last memory of a four year-old boy walking out with his soon-to-be stepfather, telling him that he didn't want to go with him, that he didn't want to see him anymore.
and now, in the past seven years, he's been there. i can, and do, tell him anything and everything. i think there's some degree of fear that might keep him from playing the disciplinarian with me, but i also honestly think he doesn't because he believes in me, trusts me, and respects me.
so, dad, i take your gifts, not just the pens and gift cards and the money i've been slow to repay, and i accept them and revel in them perhaps too readily. i cherish them, i feel your love in them, and i feel also their weight, poorly balanced between us, making my "thank you" seem so weak and inadequate. i feel you continuing to be a father in your heart for so long, with nothing to show for it, with no love or reward in return, now giving me everything you think i want or need, without question.
i feel all of that balanced awkwardly against what little i've done in this relationship, other than accept and take. i have not much to give to tip the scale, but these things: love for a parent, as i've not known it since i was a child; my respect and admiration for you, despite your self-effacing humor (one of the few bad things i inherited from you); the fact that i believe my best qualities came from you; and the fact that i can think of no greater gift to give anyone else in my life than to re-gift all the love and support you've given me. it all just doesn't measure up, doesn't come close, but there is nothing else i have that is more valuable to me than these things.
so, shoes, gift card, or phone call, please know that the "thank you" is for everything.
Posted by Rob at 01:49 PM | Comments (0)
December 22, 2004
minimalist blog/unpopular rant of the day no.2
I have repressed these things I feel for far too long. It's eaten me up inside, plagued me in the burning noontime July sun, tortured me in the depths of wintry night. James Taylor makes my flesh crawl. His voice completely defeats my will to live. There, I've said it.
Posted by Rob at 01:41 PM | Comments (6)
minimalist non-sequitur apple advertisement/blog of the day
Ha! I'm listening to the Bangles. The freakin' Bangles. I love my iPod. Everyone loves my iPod. Girls love my iPod. Francine thinks "iPod" is a euphemism for, you know, my uh, priapetic equipment. That's OK. My iPod has great power, and makes joyous noises. Look, it's Madonna.
Posted by Rob at 10:01 AM | Comments (4)
December 21, 2004
madness, stupidity and fatigue
ok, another gap in the blogging. but dammit, this was a wacky few days. allow me to walk you through it, here at 2:23am.
last thursday night, my team played in their championship tournament. we won our first game at 8:00pm in convincing fashion, playing well individually and as a unit. the second game began immediately after the first. yes, the other team was fresh, since the team they were to play at 7:00pm, the team with the really bad attitude and the rowdy crowd, had never paid their deposit, and therefore lost their chance to play. figures.
we had a really good team, that we had beaten last season for the championship, and that had lost only one game this season, against the ropes, frustrated in the first half. at first, my team played efficiently but beautifully, patiently but with passion, methodically but with purpose. they played valiantly throughout the game, but somewhere along the way, that effort was no longer focused by a system of playing together. frustration and mayhem followed, and we lost. i think it was the most disappointment and frustration we've felt in a long time. that's alright, though - there are immense lessons to be learned from it, and in january we'll start practicing weekly for the next season, which won't start until march.
friday i was stuck in settlement conferences at work. they ran over, and while i had planned to take the afternoon to get home and bake, i didn't get out until 3:00. an accident on the freeway turned a 20 minute commute into an hour. get home, start baking, i'm out of sugar. run to the store, and at 4:30, i finally began three solid hours of baking and decorating a pretty damned yummy fresh banana layer cake, with slices of bananas and strawberries between three layers, with a cream cheese icing. i put the last bit of icing on, then immediately hauled ass to shannon's birthday party.
dinner led into a trip to the canary hut, which i prefer to call the canary slut - a small neighborhood bar in a strip center, with bright yellow chairs and weird lighting. the oddest thing is that the air in the bar seems perpetually clear, yet the bar reeks of cigarette stench like none i have ever known.
we are usually able to rule the roost at the canary hut (sorry), but friday night, a pair of groups were hogging all the tables. about eight or nine of us sat in a small circle in the middle of the floors, clutching our drinks and peeling apart the stuck-together plastic pages of the karaoke songbooks, which contained mostly country songs and other things that i would not want to hear or acknowledge the existence of, much less sing.
about the time the big screen television, which had been tuned to more innocuous cinemax fare, started showing softcore porn, it was decided that we should leave. we went to brian and shannon's house.
shannon is my karaoke mentor. she is intelligent, with normally developed cognitive and social skills, yet she is a karaoke freak. she does not reside in a fantasy world, and doesn't dress up for or get too dramatically involved in the songs she sings, but she just likes singing stuff, and i support and admire that. accordingly she recently purchased a totally bad-ass karaoke machine - not one of those cheap boxes with the cd player, speaker, and tiny screen all built in, but a purposeful-looking stereo component of they type some of my korean kin have in their homes.
it took me a while to warm to singing without the cheers and adoration of a sginificantly large audience, but shannon's enthusiasm was infectious. eventually, i crawled out, and was in bed by 3:00am.
suddenly, it was 6:45am. i jammed my contacts back into my eyes, pulled on my high-tech running garb, and drove in a painful daze to my 7:30am, 12-mile run.
12 miles is a long freakin' way to run. it is not a distance i had ever contemplated covering on foot. it's a task i had always figured was taken on only by itinerant kung-fu masters and native americans being driven on death marches.
but with my small pack of three running buddies, janay, tiffany, and katy, it became doable. we stuck together, through the first six or so miles that was made so arduous by our shared need to find a restroom, up the daunting steep side of mount bonnell, and through the ordeal of consuming "gu", a space-age polymer that supposedly provides much-needed energy, while tasting and feeling like something excreted by an alien with dysentery, with just a hint of citrus and/or vanilla flavoring.
near the end, i think the runner's high kicked in for us, and either took the form of, or combined with, a mild delirium. the derisive term "ass lemon" was accidentally discovered, and the ensuing laughter slowed us for about a block.
after the run, i was unable to lure my running cohorts into breakfast, but diane, who's responsible for this nuttiness in the first place, and her boys, sal and julian, were down for it. rush home, shower, clean up the small gift left by one of my cats, who apparently almost but didn't quite make it into the litter box, rush back out to meet for brunch.
after that, the mall, where i found, but did not buy, just the casual shoes i've been looking for, in case anyone, say, in south carolina, is wondering... i wear some size between 11 and 12, but that's all i'm telling you.
i finally got home at about 5:00pm. i collapsed on the couch. things hurt, and i was damn tired. but, spurred by my public humiliation at the hands of cocky teenagers and a few socially disadvantaged adults at the halo 2 tournament the week before, i decided to brush up on my video game skills.
i tend to be a little obssessive, which is why i don't gamble, and which is also why i only turn on the xbox once every couple of months.
suddenly, it was 4:30am, and i still couldn't figure out how to kill the prophet in the temple. i went to bed.
suddenly, it was 7:30pm on sunday. what the hell happened? the cats were even wide awake, on either side of me in the bed, staring at me with mild disdain and entirely no concern at all.
some television. not having eaten in about 30 hours, a double meat-double cheese jalapeno burger and some tater tots sounded like a good idea. reenergized, i played halo 2 for about an hour and finally beat the hell out of that prophet guy. i know it sounds mean, but he's apparently went nuts, and is trying very effectively to wipe out humanity. he had it coming. plus, he talks a lot of trash.
more television - oh my, has anyone seen the "woodland critter christmas" on south park? brilliant...
while you were out started getting me drowsy. bed at 1:30am.
7:30 monday morning. no sir, this is not going to happen. back to sleep. up at 10:00am, and the day once more immediately began feeling like a scene from a guy ritchie film. run to kanton's to pick up a contract to look over, and info on two cases with insurance companies. cash check. get to work at noon. work, in between answering emails from friends and other people i'm doing work for. sneak out to deposit cash, buy socks for running, the thin cool-max kind i love, that are $6.00 and up at running stores, but $4.95 for two at target. all in 25 minutes.
leave work at 5:45. by 6:00, i'm running five miles, in the belief and fervent hope that not skipping the runs during the week will help me better recover from the hellish long saturday runs. down the hike and bike to congress, up to the capitol, then back, clutching my iPod the whole way. "hells bells", by ac/dc comes up on the shuffle play, and i kick into high gear on the last couple of miles, repeating the song several times, all the while imagining doing an epic, leather-pantsed karaoke rendition of it, to the applause of the canary slut's near-mullet male clientele and some of the cuter female patrons.
home by 7:10, shower, out the door by 7:30. driving to snag friend kammi to go to the mr. sinus christmas party, i'm digging through my briefcase, which kammi would later declare looks like a woman's purse, damn her, and my wallet's not there. must be at the office, left there when i changed into my running clothes at the end of the day, a mistake i've rarely made.
i'm right on time to get kammi at 8:00. we go to my office building, she hangs in the car. i don't have my badge. the security says he'll let me in, but i forgot my keys in the car. get keys. return. the guard, a short man with a lazy eye and a thick jamaican accent, says he can't let me in without a badge. for the next 10-15 minutes, all logic fails. he suggests repeatedly that i get someone who knows me that has a badge to identify me to him so i can come in. it's 8:25 now, and we don't have a fcuking night shift at my office. he declares that i was responsible for passing the law last week that prevents him from letting me in.
there was no time to explain the legislative process, or the fact that the legislature was not currently in session to to pass such a "law", or the difference between law, policy, and sheer idiocy. i walk away, without my wallet, with no money, and no faith in the future of humanity when so much rests on the decisions of small-minded people.
kammi hooks me up with some money, which i find embarassing. the party is cool, but it was mainly nice to get a chance to talk to kammi, cause we've never really had a chance to hang out. on the way home, we stop by the recycling center, where i dump off the huge bits of cardboard i've had in my car for two weeks. a homeless guy comes up and asks me for a quarter, and i have to laugh.
drop kammi off by 10, go to the store, buy a few ingredients and cash a check (luckily, my checkbook, with one check left, is in my car, in the girly man purse i've used as a briefcase for 12 years). get home, begin baking cinnamon apple cake for tomorrow's office holiday party, which we call an end of year party so as not to offend the jehovah's witnesses in the office, who still won't attend. cat is coming in the morning to use the computer, so while the cake's in the oven, it's laundry, dishes, cleaning the kitchen.
i pull together the clothes i need to go running tomorrow night. i stuff them in my gym bag, and there, nestled securely just where it should be, is my wallet.
Posted by Rob at 01:03 AM | Comments (3)
December 15, 2004
eh?
So, my dad in south carolina has not been able to read my blog because, he claims, something is wrong with his computer and the font color and size I've been using are illegible. Hmmph. Methinks there's some denial going on, Pop.
But, here you go, the Reader's Digest Large Type Edition of the blog. Surely, a little ways into it, you'll let me know that you'd rather not know what I'm up to or what I'm thinking, and you'll ask me to kindly return the font characteristics to x-small, #FFFFFF (grey).
In related news, I'm impressed with my ability to change the size and color of my font, particularly because it sounds sorta sexual. My font. Anyway, I await the aesthetic approbation or disapprobation of my audience of dozens. OK, of several. Larger type OK? Black better? Personally, I kinda like the crisp, compact look of the smaller font...
And Julie, if you read this, forgive me for stealing the lovely pumpkin-y color for links. I've always liked the color, and I'm paralyzed by the sheer range of choices - it's like it's a full, I don't know... uhh... spectrum, if you will, of color choices... I eagerly anticipate the cease and desist letter from your attorney, because it'll mean you're still visiting this thing. Go Canada!
Posted by Rob at 11:05 PM | Comments (2)
kobe's scorecard
OK, a basketball-related note. if you don't care about basketball, don't bother. if you do care, you probably shouldn't bother, becauce I'm just stating the obvious.
wow. you know, kobe bryant just can't help himself, can he? either that, or he's the most unlucky incredibly-talented athlete in the world. ever. let's see, first he claims the girl in colorado, with whom he admitted cheating on his wife with, lied about being raped. err... ok. sure, regardless of my own belief on the matter, and as much as admitting the possibility hurts, things like that do happen.
then, on a lighter note, he forces phil jackson, one of the winningest coaches ever, the guy that turned jordan into a champion, out of Los Angeles. well, clearly, jackson wouldn't let kobe play his way, right? a guy's got a career to think about. ok. well. whatever.
then he pushes the Lakers to trade one of the most dominant centers ever, without whom he would not have won three championships. um, OK, sure, well, shaq's a bit arrogant, and he wants the ball a lot in the stretch. he's getting older, and it should be kobe's team, right? rrright. now you've got chris mihm. whatever works for you, man.
in the preseason, he got into it with ray allen of the seattle supersonics, and mouthed off to the press that allen was essentially not in kobe's league. tuesday night, kobe did his selfish kobe thing to the tune of an impressive 37 points. problem is, his team (you know them, kobe - the other dudes out there dressed like you? it's not a coincidence) lost to the sonics. i'm sure ray-ray was happy with his 26 points and his moral victory.
but, wait, there's more! last week, kobe was sort of misinterpreted as saying he doesn't want karl malone, one of the 4 or 5 greatest power forwards of all time, whom i despise but whose abilities and experience i can't even begin to argue with, back on his team. he really was sort of misquoted, and it seemed people were just picking up on that, maybe beginning to feel kobe was getting unfairly slammed... until a few days ago, when kobe, through his agent, declared that malone had hit on his wife. malone, who had supported him through last season, who had forgotten and forgiven about a brash young kobe dissing the veteran by waving off his pick in the all-star game a few years ago. sure, maybe karl did it, maybe he thought kobe owed him one. maybe it was all a masterfully conceived plot, carried out over the course of years, to get back at kobe. yeah. maybe. wait. no.
you know, here where i work, we get licensees in trying to explain themselves. sometimes the explanations get pretty wacky, but we all live in the real world, and know how wacky things can get here. but pretty often, we get someone that expects us to believe a an extensive and intricate web of incredible and unfortunate events. it takes a very special sort of personality to think that'll work, and to be shocked and insulted when it doesn't. i think they're called "psychopaths".
a few years ago, kobe was roundly booed during the introductions at the all-star game in philly, where he had played in high school, i believe. i thought it was one of the ruder things i had ever seen, from a city with a nasty reputation for such things. increasingly, i'm thinking they were just smarter than the rest of us.
Posted by Rob at 09:23 AM | Comments (0)
December 14, 2004
on temperance
dammit, i've let time slip by me again. every time i think it doesn't really matter that i haven't made an entry, a francine or a morgan or a jori notes the lack of activity. prepare for rambling.
i still miss the drinking, the hanging out at the pub. last night, i went to see spanglish (which, for all its weak treatment of cultrual differences, was a very well-written, well-acted and enjoyable flick). adam sandler does a lot of beer drinking, and i was often distracted from the scene by my longing for a beer. kind of weird.
but i hit a point where i realized i couldn't keep up what i was doing with alcohol for a couple of months there. for one thing, it's expensive. sure, a 12 pack of harp and a bottle of rose's lime juice is pretty cheap, but the inevitable and frequent trips to fado's for beer and writing time were eating through my budget.
more importantly, the effects of alcohol changed. where it once turned aside oncoming anxiety and negative thoughts, it eventually began to lose ground to the force of reality, or what seemed like reality, creating its own steadily deepening hole for me to fall further into.
plus, it was making me fat.
so, for a while now, with the help of some positive influences, the discipline required by this zany running thing, and the distraction provided by good friends new and old, i've been moderating.
tonight, though, i'm allowing myself one (OK, two, as this entry becomes longer). i'm allowing it because a critical part of the balance i need to strike in my life comes from the need to write, and dammit, there's still nothing like a dark room, lit only by my computer monitor, and a cold lager and lime.
incidentally, i just tried to pour my second (and last) beer of the evening in the cool way that adam sandler did last night. not so good. it's what i get for trying or even wanting to imitate anything adam sandler does.
so, what of the past week? as always, full of life's little victories and defeats. i spent a lot of time last week with my great new friend francine last week, and it spoiled me. just to have that frequent and reliable companionship of someone i relate so easily to fills a lot of the gaps i used to gripe about so much (note: "used to" = about three weeks ago).
wednesday, i had a great time with yet another new friend, suzi (who i met through francine), seeing a very cool documentary about this amazing Russian inventor dude named Theremin. afterwards, we hung at fado's for quite a while. thursday, another great time with heather and francine at... fado's... where heather and i had eaten lunch. francine then went with me to see the women's basketball team I coach (the Deadly Viper Assasination Squad) win a pretty thrilling game.
saturday morning, i got up and ran 10 miles with my training group, another milestone (literally) for me. i felt incredible during the run - light on my feet, longer strides, on my toes up the hills, with a fairly strong finish in the last three miles. most importantly, my mental game was improved. i could focus on the running, i could push myself through pain and fatigue much better than before, because i felt the positive foundation of hope and purpose under me.
the aftermath, however, was pretty hellish. i never gave myself a chance to recover, really. i went home, showered, and met suzi, whom i hung out with for the next 10 hours discussing, among other things, some exciting new creative stuff, the evening ending at... fado's. after that, i took some teenagers to a midnight halo 2 tournament at the drafthouse, finally finding blessed, blessed sleep at almost 3 am.
sunday, i was up again, and hung out with francine and had a good deal of fun. monday, it all caught up to me, the drain of the all the fun and activity, as well as the sober realization of some disappointments that had piled up over the previous week. it was frustrating... for almost two weeks, i had felt phenomenal, the combination of a genuinely fresh and hopeful outlook on my life, and the new cocktail of medications i've been taking. the more constant intravenous infusion of music from the new ipod didn't hurt, either.
yesterday, today even, it seemed to be fading. i didn't make it to work yesterday, and tried to convince myself and everyone else that it was entirely physical, when it was probably only partially physical. the hope i had written so positively of just weeks ago, the almost blind faith in the unfolding of potentials and possibilities ahead of me if i just kept going, seemed to be failing me.
today, i made it to work. i kept the door closed, the lights off, because i hate the flourescent lights anyway. i gritted my teeth through the day, often literally, struggling not to lose my newly gained grip on hope. getting my haircut with cameo helped - a great haircut to feel good about, and an hour of therapy for half the cost of my therapist will do that. i drove to meet the training group, knowing i just had to make it there, to see people who knew me, but not too well, to fall into the pace and stride, into harmony with my own body, and to take comfort talking to my running buddies janay and tiffany.
i had a banner night, much as that phrase really does nothing for me from an aesthetic standpoint... i struck out ahead of the group on a fairly challenging hill course, and just kept putting on distance. one woman caught me and followed my pace, then kind of hurt herself on a lump in the road. I made sure she was alright, then continued. another woman eventually caught up to me, and we ran the last loop together. we egged each other on up the hills, to the finish, and we crossed the finish together. that's me, always let the girl finish first, if we can't finish together. yeeeah. anyway, it felt kinda like the old days racing bikes, when I couldn't/wouldn't be beaten.
we ran back to the store and our cars, and i realized my faith had returned a great deal. there is still possibility out there for me, and in that, hope. i'm not deluded into thinking there won't also be disappointment, i just gotta know that it's all a game of numbers, of potential energies and probabilities, and i have to believe that odds are, good things will happen, too.
wow. i am soooo long winded. i'd apologize, but i'm sure no one's still reading...
Posted by Rob at 11:59 PM | Comments (4)
December 09, 2004
The Venti/Enorme/Gigante-Assed Coffee Naming Revolt of 2004
Now, this is what I'm talking about. This is what you want from a blog - intelligent discussion about today's important topics, discussion that elevates the level not only of public discourse, but of activism.
The casual mention of the silly and pretentious naming conventions used by coffee shops in Monday's blog led to just such a discussion, culminating in Jori's mighty rebel grito:
Let's start a revolution and start ordering coffee on our own terms. Tomorrow I'm going to saunter into Starbucks and say "I'd like a 'husky' cafe mocha...and no skimping on the whipped cream, Mr. Coffee."
So, there you have your marching orders. We, the coffee and chai-drinking proletariat must rise up and subvert the bourgeois naming of our overpriced caffeinated beverages. I pledge to go back to the cafe at Nordstroms, smelling very special after a good hearty run, insert myself in line between some overdressed, overmade-up, Prada-carrying mall queens, and order "a Fcuking Huge Indian Tea with some Low Lipid Cow Juice and Frozen Water."
Organization is everything, as is an ample stockpile of synonyms for words like:
small
medium
large
huge
milk
low-fat
no-fat
extra-fat
decaf
whipped cream
arrogant teenage coffee monkey
"Husky" is great, though it recalls my beloved pair of green jeans from Sears in my youth. Morgan suggests "Grosso," which said in a gravelly baritone should turn some heads. Please post any other suggestions here.
So, go forth today, Mighty Warriors of Syntactical Simplicity, for though this war may be fraught with peril and slightly expensive for a cup of freakin' coffee, we are the vanguard for those that will follow. Return to us here with stories of your mighty exploits in this holiest of causes!
Posted by Rob at 03:47 PM | Comments (4)
excitingnewsuperstaremaillife
I have a new email address. it is robhill45@gmail.com
A few (OK, 4) (well, 5) points about this new address -
1. No, I haven't been fired again. I just wanted one good email
address that works, and I think Heather is tired of me using her to
check my email when I'm not in the office. So, please use this 'un for
personal emails.
2. Hotmail officially sucks. In the past several days, I've had close
to a dozen messages sent to my friends with Hotmail accounts come
bouncing back to me a day or two later. And almost none of them
contained the words p*nis, fc*k, *ss, sh*t, mudb*tt, or R*msfeld.
3. I am cooler than most of you, because I got not one, but two
invites to have an oh-so-trendy Gmail account. If you don't know what
Gmail is, then you are among the Uncool, and I can't be bothered
trying to explain it to the likes of you.
4. Despite the previous snotty statement, I love you all, or at least
have a minimum of hatred for some of you, and am therefore giving you
my email address for you to ignore or distribute to porn spammers to
get me back for something I did, may have done, am believed to have
done, or paid someone else to do to you years ago.
5. Because I am lazy, yes, I do intend to pass this notice off as a
blog entry. I also intend to use this notice to promote my exciting,
still half-finished website and blog, at www.whowantspudding.com.
Reading it for 30-40 seconds is guaranteed to change approximately
30-40 seconds of your life.
That is all.
Rob
Posted by Rob at 03:31 PM | Comments (6)
December 06, 2004
I WANNA ROCK!
WAUGHAUGHAUGHAUGHAUGH!
Not to be confused with "WAHHHHHH," "WAUGHAUGHAUGHAUGHAUGH" is like, a heavy metal vocal. iPod is like, totally rocking my world, dude. This morning, I did better at getting out of the house on time, only to be thwarted by a stalled car on 2222. No big deal. On the way to work, I sang "I'm Just a Girl," "Careless Whisper," and "No Diggity." Got me a breakfast taco and a Venti No Fat Iced Chai Latte. Every time I go into Starbucks, I learn a little more of their strange, stupid language, and I leave with a little more respect from the Starbuckites, but a little less respect for myself. They even gave me a box of the decaf chai tea for free because the "best by" date is slightly expired.
On the walk in from the garage, I listened to some Aimee Mann, which spoke to my anima, and made me feel slightly, but warmly, wistful. Then Guns n' Roses came up on the shuffle play, and fortunately, there was no one on the elevator to see me purse my lips and thrash my head around. These fools have no idea of the unholy rock and roll fury within me, that could be unleashed, broken, if you will, like a mighty wind over their Celine Dion landscape.
Ah, it's gonna be a good day.
Posted by Rob at 09:22 AM | Comments (8)
December 01, 2004
the turkey trot
last wednesday, the day after the last entry, was a short day at work. i got off at noon and went to the parque zaragosa gym down on east seventh street. it's a beautiful gym, just far enough into the hood to have some flava without having to worry too much about getting your ass kicked for no good reason.
for about an hour, i was alone in the gym, just shooting, and i rediscovered a little bit of the peace that used to bring me. eventually, some high-school aged and younger kids started to show up, and I ended up playing for hours.
don't laugh. these kids are good. incredibly quick, and there were some great shooters out there, too. the kid I played against most of the afternoon was as big as I was, though probably no older than 15 or 16. it was fun - i was the elder veteran out there, trying to keep my team focused, which is apparently very difficult at their age.
i then went down to the Run-Tex Store for Psychotic Running People to sign up my friend fran and me to run the 14th annual Turkey Trot thanksgiving morning. here's something I discovered in that process: "5mi." is different from "5K". i remember as a kid in the seventies being really excited about the thought of the entire nation picking up and switching to a whole different way of measuring everything, from the distance to grandma's house, to the weight of a pair of twinkies.
but people, that ship has sailed. the metric system didn't fly. apparently, however, no one bothered to tell that to these nutty running people. as a result of endorphin overdose or the repeated jarring of their brain from running on pavement, or years of consistently suffering from heat stroke, they can't make up their damned minds whether to use the metric system or the standard system. they run 5K to prepare for the 5mi the week before the 10K, in the hopes of eventually running a 26 mile marathon. it's senseless, and deceptive to the average citizen like myself who is merely trying to pose as a serious runner.
following this revelation, i had to choose between a $10 gift certificate for thundercloud subs, or a long sleeve t-shirt with an embarassingly ungainly-looking turkey-thing caricatured on the front. when it was a 5K race in my head, i was just gonna get my damn sandwich money. but when it became 5mi., i was damn well gonna get a fcuking t-shirt out of the deal.
thursday morning, i was a bit late picking up fran, and when we got there, sure enough, i had to pee. the event seemed to be extremely well-organized, except for the following ratio: over 7,000 runners... to 8 porta-potties. i stood in line for several minutes, and finally got into one shortly after the race started, only to find it was... sort of unneccesary. a false alarm.
i exploded out of the portable outhouse, rejoined my friend, lied to her about how much better i felt, and we started the run. in my frenzy, i completely forgot to spit at, yell derisive insults at, or even glare at our worthless, ruthless, piece of crap, bought and paid for by insurance companies, aggie-assed governor Prick Perry.
And for that, I am truly, deeply sorry.
anyway, fran runs about an eight minute mile, on average. me... not so much. let's talk about 11 minutes. i kept up with her for the first two miles, then, fortunately, i was unable to get through the tiny gaps in the jogging, jostling crowd that she was able to slip through. two miles into it, and i was completely burned out, alone, and without music, and still hurting a bit from playing ball with kids half my age for three hours the day before. nonetheless, i finished the damned thing, spurred on by the burning need to not get outrun by the guy in the full-body plush turkey costume. the cool computer-chip timing would later show that i cut over a minute off my recent average mile time, averaging 10:08 minutes per mile.
on the downhill to the finish, i felt my legs again, and i cut it loose into a full sprint. i felt great, not just in running terms, but in my own body. my legs flew so fast and so long that i almost wiped out near the finish line, feeling just short of being able to take flight. i heard fran near the finish, cheering me on, her voice cutting through all the cheering and noise and music and the annoying country music announcer that seems, in my admittedly limited experience, to emcee all the running events around here. a photographer at the finish line even gave me a shout for finishing strong.
of course, a respectable distance after crossing the finish line, i came to an abrupt stop, collapsed on the curb, and struggled for air. eventually i found fran, and we searched for cookies, only to find they had been hoarded by the early finishers. fran had forgone chocolate chip cookies to cheer my belated finish. that's a true friend.
for the next 30 minutes to an hour, we wandered a bit, and ran into people we knew. fran was able to be super-cool with runners she knew: "yeah, i did chicago [referring to the marathon], and i just decided to take it easy after that."
i ran into donnie and laura, faces from my own past. i met laura back at the university of texas in 1989, when she lived on the same dormitory hallway as mary, the mary that was for so many years the Love and Truth and Legend, the Light and Shadow, of a good piece of my life. true, now she is simply the Past, but it was a significant chunk of time full of significant events and feelings at a significant point in my life. i had worked with donnie, and introduced him to laura. when mary and i parted ways, donnie and laura and many of those friends went with her.
fran ran into a friend she had known since high school. we ran into suzi, one of fran's coworkers. there in waterloo park, that looked just as it had to me when i was a child there on a field trip, past and present and maybe futures melted together. for once, for a moment so rare these days, i knew the joy of the moment, knew the truth of the present not only as the intersection of past and future, but a place in and of itself in which to reside. my body felt light, healthy, and strong. my heart and mind were at ease as they always are with fran, my new friend, despite her cursed running pace.
in all of this, maybe in the slight delirium of exhaustion, i felt the realization that pieces of the future would one day feel like pieces of the past, good and bad, and i knew, in my heart felt, that there is hope in that. sometimes, as pink floyd has taught us, we see and feel pieces added to the wall we build around our heart. but sometimes, many more times lately, i see and feel the pieces laid in the path before me. i speak so often here of hope. events and people have moved me. i am beginning to see hope in the one stone laid before me, laid sometimes by myself, sometimes by those around me, the path continuing, ready to receive my next step.
Posted by Rob at 01:06 AM | Comments (2)