Daphne 3.0

More updates from Belize

2009-12-08T16:37:00.002-07:00

December 3, 2009

This morning we met with Belize Natural Energy and got a tour of the first company to find oil in Belize. In the afternoon we drove to the Belize Zoo. It was the coolest zoo. Ever. I got to hold a boa constrictor! She was very nice and only a little creepy. It was 9000 degrees and I was sweating my ass off. Again. I actually felt sweat rolling down my legs during the tour. We got the VIP tour of the zoo with the director. She let us feed the animals and pet some of them. I got to feed a tapir and macaws. The zoo is small but really cool. The animals are very happy there. We met a jaguar that would do tricks for food. Another jaguar would roll over and give you a high-five on command. I got to tell him to roll over! And he did!

December 4, 2009

Best. Day. So. Far.

We survived the 6 hours in the car today but it was rough! We drove on a dirt/rock/pocketed road for 1/2 of it. Lot's of jostling around. But the drive was worth it! We arrived at Caracol, the Maya "center of the universe" and got a tour from one of the park rangers. Halfway through, Rafael, an archeologist joined us and started telling even more neat facts.

The ruins are in the Chiquibul National Forest and Reserve. They've only excavated about 2-5% of the ruins. The reserve is about 260K acres, the forest is about 140K acres, and the site of the ruins used to be home to about 100-150,000 Maya during the height of the Maya period. There are currently 300K people in Belize today, so the Maya used to equal half that. These ruins were so cool! I got to climb to the top of the biggest one -- it took several puffs of my inhaler to get all the way up. I was sweating buckets, out of breath and my legs were killing me from all the stairs. And these weren't regular stairs. They are larger that average stairs. Giant stairs. Made for Maya Giants.

The two awesome things that happened today were:
1. We got to see howler monkeys in wild. I took pictures, but the monkeys were about 200 feet up, so we'll see how they turn out.
2. A dog joined us on our hike and stayed with us the whole time. I named him Pedro. Soon the whole group was calling him Pedro. At one point, one of the other students asked me how I knew his name. Ha!

December 5, 2009

We went cave tubing today. It was amazing. I tried to capture it on camera but it was really dark in there! Afterwards, we got to jump off a cliff into the river below. I jumped twice.

I'll post December 6 in a separate post. It's a long one. (That's what she said.)

Belize Baby!

2009-12-02T19:45:00.002-07:00

Greetings from the Jungle! I'm in Belize for 10 days for my Leadership course. Interestingly enough, we don't have cell service here - BTL has a monopoly on signals - but we have wifi. In. The. Middle. Of. The. Rainforest. Really. We're required to keep and submit a journal at the end so I thought I'd post some of my entries for you all. (I can't seem to upload photos, the wifi signal can't support it for some reason.) Some are more academic than others, so I'll try to only post the fun ones. Try.

November 29, 2009
Tomorrow morning I leave for Belize on my travel course. I’m filled with both excitement and anxiety. Excitement for the travel and learning opportunity. Anxious for the big unknown. I’ve forgotten how much work it takes to get ready to travel and it’s double that when you’re traveling for 10 days to another country. It seemed so much easier when I was an exchange student in high school. (Then again, everything was easier in high school.) Now, at 35, I’ve got dogs to take to the sitter, bills to pre-pay, mail to put on hold, a house to clean, work to tie up and, then, get ready to travel. I’ve been checking the weather, reading the required readings and catching up on Belizean history. Like most countries, it’s history is much more complex once you start reading about it. Belize has always been on my “dream” countries list and now I’m finally traveling there. It’s even better that I’m traveling not as a tourist but as a scholar.

November 30, 2009
The flight from Houston to Belize City isn’t full so there is a little more room than my first flight this morning, where were packed into the seats like sardines. There is an excitement on the plane as everyone is in good spirits waiting to land. I sat next to a man on my first flight who had been to Belize before. He had mostly positive things to say about the experience, mostly about boating up and down the islands. His only negative comment was the conditions in Belize City. I can’t help but wonder about the property laws in Belize. The history reading didn’t quite answer the question of what the laws are now. In my Essence of Enterprise class we read De Soto’s Five Mysteries of Capital. He described why Western property laws don’t always work in developing nations due to culture, history, bias, religion, lack of education, etc. But he also stated, and I believe, that the way out of poverty is tied to access to capital, to land, to saving money. I also believe that the way out of poverty is education. I understand that in the history of Belize public education was lacking or prohibited. I wonder what the policy is now? The article about science in Belize suggests that there aren’t enough role models or access to science in higher education. These seem like basic questions, and they nag at me.

I got to meet a few of the students at the airport. They seem like nice kids. I say ‘kids’ without being condescending. I’m 17 years older than them. But we still got along just fine. We’re all in this together. Even if we have nothing else in common, we have that.

We arrived in Belize City about 1/2 hour late due to plane maintenance in Houston. Once on the ground in BZE, it took forever to get through customs – they had one officer checking everyone out – and I had to show my passport three times. Then we had to drive for 2 hours to our eco-friendly resort/conference center in the middle of the rainforest. They served us a yummy dinner of rice and beans, chicken in some sort of yum-o sauce, fried plantains and some weird potato/egg/pea salad (it was good tho).

I'm already sticky from the humidity. We can't use hairdryers here so I'm going to be au natural for 6 days, maybe all 10. They are 100% solar powered and hairdryers use too much energy. There is only one plug in our whole cabin. Yay frizzy hair!

Tomorrow we drive to Galen University meet with some college students. Hopefully we’ll also stop at a store because I found something to take back for stocking stuffers already – Marie Sharp's Comatose Level Hot Sauce.

Oh, Belikin Beer is the name of the Belizean beer. It's like Coors if Coors had no competitors in the US. Kind of like going to Golden. Paul says it tastes better than Red Stripe. Not sure if that's a compliment or not. ;)

I'm going to try to get some sleep tonight to the sounds of the jungle.

December 1, 2009
It rained last night pretty hard and we've got tin roofs in the cabins. Needless, it was really loud! It's also really loud in the jungle from all the sounds of bugs and monkeys and what ever else is out there. Three exciting things happened today:

1) This morning at breakfast they served eggs, beans, papaya, Johnny cakes and the biggest avocados I've ever seen! I wanted to take a picture but thought I'd look like a dork. Now I regret not. So tomorrow if they have them again I'll take a picture. I have to wonder how big the tree is on which they grew.
2) We visited Galen University outside of San Ignacio. It’s a small, newer university focusing on sustainability issues. They provide dual degrees with the University of Indianapolis. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming. It was funny being seen as the "international" students after being around all the ones we have at DU. We had two presentations from professors and one from a representative from PACT. I found it both surprising and sad that in a country as beautiful as this that there are no environmental laws and/or the preservation laws they have are not properly enforced. It reminded me of the scene in Pale Rider when Clint Eastwood’s character visits the strip mining camp and has a disgusted look on his face as they blast the hillside with water to mine it. When we get to BNE on Thursday I will ask them about mitigation and reclamation on the oil wells, as well as capping natural gas wells – they currently let them burn off, emitting harmful chemicals by the ton, no doubt.
3) On the way back from the university one of our vans was rear-ended, which resulted in us waiting around forever for the Belmopan PD to show up and a drive to the police station to give an official statement. Luckily, the van I was in wasn't hit so we were allowed to go back to our "home base," the conference center and get dinner. While we were waiting, the mayor of Belmopan pulled up to see what we were up to. So we got to meet the mayor, the PD and the locals, all in one traffic accident.

December 2, 2009
I'm working on my entry for today... let's just say we were sweating our asses off and then we went to the sea.

Powering through

2009-11-24T00:20:00.002-07:00

I just finished the fall quarter and am enjoying a short break before my interterm class starts. Fall was stressful and as I turned in my project on Friday, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. This project was 100% of my grade and I spent 10 weeks on it. I think I did OK but I'm really just too tired of worrying about it that I don't care. I do care, but I don't care right now.

Interterm is going to rock my socks off... I'm leaving on Monday for Belize. Central America. A dream come true. Or one of them at least. Just when I paid the last part of the program fee I learned that the course was downgraded from a 3000-level course to a 2000-level course. I'm at 4000-level with my master's, so a 2000-level is questionable for credit. Now I have to apply for an exception so it will count toward my degree. If it doesn't, I'm sure I'll get over it, but I really won't be happy. I was counting on these 4 credits for my degree and without them, I have to take yet another class on top of the two I'm already taking sometime between now and June.

However, this is the least of my worries right now. I'm going to Belize in a week. What's not to like? My worries right now swirl around Ace, my mental health and my physical fitness. The last nine months have been killer at work and school. There just isn't enough time in the day to take care of everything and everyone. I let exercise slip off the priority list and now I'm paying for it. Ace keeps acting like a woman, always asking me "where is this thing going" and telling me that I'm "not ready for a serious relationship." I always love it when people make up your mind for you. I really love it when I'm the one acting the guy in the relationship.

Then there was the ER visit. Long story short, I fell and hit my head. When I came to, the paramedics were there and forced me to go to a hospital I didn't want to go to (one my insurance won't pay for). They shot me up with sedatives and delivered me into a nightmare. I was restrained, stripped and injected with even more drugs while at the ER. They tell me I got a concussion, but I think I was mostly pissed off that I was begging for someone to help me but no one would listen. I'll never watch medical dramas the same way. Tonight I decided to stop bitching about how I was treated and do something about it. I've started making contact with the ambulance company and patient advocates at the hospital. I'm not going quietly into the good night on this one. H-E-double hockey sticks, no.

As a result of the concussion, I've been operating with 80% brain power for the last several weeks. Makes it hard to finish a project and go to work without falling asleep at one's desk. But somehow I made it through. The only thing that kept me going was Belize. Ahhhh, Belize.

Nevermind the $1700 for the ER and $800 for the ambulance, I'm going to Central America. Where malaria pills are highly recommended. And it's 70 degrees. In December.

The only question now is, which swimsuit should I take? Answer: all of them.

Single Mom

2009-10-26T00:03:00.004-06:00

Do you have a "dream travel" list? I do. Countries like the Czech Republic, Greece, Cuba, Belize, and oh, everywhere, make my list. So when I found a class that lets me go to Belize and get 4 credits toward my degree, I jumped on it. The catch is that I'll be gone for 11 days and will need a dog sitter. With plenty of notice, I asked my ex to care for them. I thought, wrongly it would seem, that he would help. Because, you know, he wanted to keep them when we got divorced. Then, after a few months went by, he didn't want them as much, but said he'd watch them if I needed it.

Then, I got this email on Friday:
I'm really sorry but I will not be able to watch the dogs this time. I am planning to be in Vegas visiting the fam for Thanksgiving and won't be back before you leave. In fact I would prefer to be moved down the list of potential dog-sitters if you don't mind. This is very difficult for me because I do love them, but a lot of things are changing for me and it's just no longer comfortable or convenient for me to take them on, especially for such a long stretch as two weeks. I might be able to take them for a few days around Christmas/New Year's, but I can't commit right now.

There are a million different possible responses to an email like this. I really wanted to go to snark, 'cus that's what I do best. Here are my options:

1. I will make other arrangements from now on. You won't be inconvenienced again. Maybe I'll text you when Rocky dies. Maybe not. I'd hate to make it uncomfortable for you.
2. Oh, yes, I totally understand. Two weeks is such a long time. Why, I don't know how I possibly handle it for all the weeks in a row that I've had them.
3. Once again, I am so flippin' happy that we never had children together.

In the end, I think it's best to go with passive aggressive-infused guilt.

At first I was really upset. How dare he drop this crap on me when I'm working, going to school, being a single dog mom, and trying to have a life? Then I had a moment of clarity... I can take care of this on my own. I have been all this time. There are gobs of people more than willing to help me. My friends, people who care about me, are here to help. As a backup, I had the vet give them a bordatella shot yesterday just in case I need to board them. My brother and sister-in-law are going to let them stay at their farm, so it's all going to work out. This really is a blessing in disguise. Really. Now I never have another reason to see my ex again. I can finally let go of that part of my life. Let go of that person I used to be.

I think I'll celebrate by going to Belize.

School Daze

2009-09-28T22:52:00.002-06:00

Classes started a few weeks ago, but, I'll admit, I really haven't been "doing" anything constructive with my class. It's a directed study class so I'm never required to be in class, or do any homework, or really produce any product of notable value. Except an Integrated Marketing Communications Campaign for an actual company. Bahh, I can knock that out in a weekend, right?

Instead of doing homework, I've been engaged in a 10 1/2 week weight off challenge with Ace. (Yes, I know, he's still around. What can I say? He's delish.) We're locked in a head to head challenge over who can lose the most weight by Nov 29, before I leave the country for Belize for 10 days. Truth is, I just want some motivation to get in shape for my bikini-wearing-snorkeling trip in Belize. Oh yeah, that... going to Belize for a class. Gosh, if I wasn't me, I'd totally hate myself right now.

It occurred to me today that I moved almost a year ago. One year of Daphne 3.0. One of these days I'll post my greatest hits of the last year. Or memoir's. Or something.

Hi def nunnery

2009-08-19T14:02:00.002-06:00

The AV Club had it's inaugural movie night last night with the big screen. It's a nice talking picture. We watched Seven Pounds. I really didn't like the movie (even though it was good) because I was confused the entire time. I don't like feeling confused.

I must say, I do like the gov't mandated digital conversion. Fortunately, I get great over-the-air reception. The new digital antenna picks up 30 channels. Most of them in Spanish and/or talking about little baby Jesus. I get MTV 3, which is in Espanole. There's one channel that always has a nun on it. She just stares at the camera and says something under her breath. It gives me the creeps. It's one of the channels with the best reception so sometimes I watch it just because it comes in clearer than Fox.

After 10 months without one, it's kind of weird having a TV again. I spent some decent money on it so I feel compelled to have it on. When I saw the nun show, I immediately I requested Mad Men and How I Met Your Mother on DVD from the library. They can't come soon enough.

Watch pots never boil, people.

2009-08-06T18:58:00.003-06:00

Sooo, I've been away awhile. Doing dog knows what. Mostly working. We're making a new website at work and it's been a little overwhelming. I also have been doing things like saving lives (it's true), camping and working off the 10 lbs of work stress-related eating I've done since beginning the above referenced website.

First: Camping
Ace and I went camping last weekend. It was glorious. You wanna know why? There are no websites to make when you're camping. I know, I tried. Nor are there cell phones (little scary at first, but you get used to it). There are also no websites to make when you're hiking. Or mountain biking. Or making s'mores by the fire.

We went to the area south of Rabbit Ears Pass, near Steamboat. It was so, so, so beautiful that my eyeballs are still crying for having to look anything else now. I was a little happy to get back to civilization, just so I could use running water again. You never know how much you miss it (and making websites) until you don't have it anymore.

Second: Saving Lives
I was swimming in a duathlon this week when I came up on a guy who was not doing well in the water. One thing leads to another and I'm pulling him up from under the water just before the emergency people got to us. I feel good and all for saving someone, but I lost 5 minutes off my time and was kind of pissy about that. (At least it helps me move from driving the bus to hell to just riding on it.)

Third: Making Websites aka Dealing with Dumb People
We're redeveloping our entire site (all 1000 pages of it) from scratch and I get to proof read all of it. I also get to interact with some of our institutions best and brightest minds. My favorite line of the day today was, ahem:

Me: I don't think we should post students' home contact information on our website because it is a legal liability and violates privacy laws.

Dept. Secretary(!): Oh, it's OK, the students have said that we can post it. How else will people find them?

(Like the stalker who wants to hunt down one of our students and murder him/her in their sleep? Yeah, how else would they find them? Hey, maybe not through our website! Let the crazies work a little harder to find it.)

For the record, I have nothing against secretaries (and yes, that is her official title), I just have something against people that don't see the bigger picture and get mad at you when you point out that they are breaking the law. But that's just me.

As you can see, I'm living the dream here. So much so that I don't have time to post how exciting my life is. Somedays even twitter is too much content for me to update. Yes, I'm that sad.

What's with those fancy talking pictures in the living room?

2009-06-23T22:31:00.004-06:00

I give up. I'm running back into the cult and buying a TV. I've lived without one for 9 months. When people ask me how I live without one, I simply reply, I don't have time to watch TV. (Which is mostly true) The real reason? I didn't get one in the severance package.

But enough is enough. As an American I am, frankly, ashamed of myself. It's not that I haven't wanted one, I've just wanted other things more. Like trips to wine country. Or food.

It's actually kind of fun buying a TV all on my own. Kind of empowering and all that crap. I'm also going to get a home theater system. Because I have to. It's my duty as an American. Right?

I've got it narrowed down and should make the purchase in the next few weeks. (Squeal!) I just may splurge and get one of these.

Chocolate Covered Sunshine

2009-06-23T01:38:00.002-06:00

I'm up late (or early, depending on your time zone) working on a project for work. It's a project that we've been working on for 1450 years, give or take a decade. Being awake when the rest of the world is asleep brings curious results. I've noticed how quiet the highway gets at this time of night. I've noticed that I have no willpower against the chocolate covered cranberries in my cupboard. I've noticed that while I *heart* my job, I can't help but day (night) dream about running away to the ocean and selling tacky tourist souvenirs.

I've also noticed that try as I might, my brain keeps straying to thoughts about Ace. Specifically, what to do about him. I'm nuttier than a Snickers bar over that man. But. (There's the but.) Now's about the time when things get difficult. Seven+ months in. My hetero man friend at work just broke up with his girlfriend of nine months because of unresolvable differences. He said it had been brewing for a few months.

Part of me wants to work through these difficulties because of the aforementioned nuttiness and affection. I adore so many things about him: He makes me giggle. He makes me melt. He makes me try new things. He makes me think I made the right choice.

But. (ah, there it is again)

Part of me doesn't want to be trapped in another relationship that one day I'll wake up, 15 years later, and wonder what the hell happened to me. The big difference then will be that I'll be 50 instead of 35. It's much harder to start over at 50 than at 35. (It was hard enough to start over at 35. I'm immensely proud of myself for not only being able to kill mice on my own, but be able to stay out of collections because I can pay my bills online. These are two skills little me didn't possess just 8 short months ago.) There are a number of things I can't stand about us: He makes me cry sometimes. He makes me wonder if it's not him, but me. He makes me feel like I've learned nothing from my failed marriage about sharing my feelings. (Yes, I know men hate the f-word.)

But. (this time for a good reason)

When I'm with him, when things are good between us, there's no other place I want to be or person I want to be with. When I'm not with him, even when times aren't good between us, I only want to be with him. I think about things I would have never thought of before I met him, like my previously-mentioned disdain for children. He's almost got me convinced that they'd make good day laborers. Almost.

But. (last time, promise)

It's far too dangerous to be thinking about this at 1:30 a.m. Especially when I've got work to do. And sleep to undertake.

Mascot update

2009-06-20T10:27:00.003-06:00

I suddenly have a strong craving for peanut oil fried chicken.

London calling.

2009-06-18T15:12:00.001-06:00

Some people may find it strange that I'm thinking of going to a foreign country with a woman I met once at a conference. Others might find it absolutely insane.

I'm sure it will work out.

Sweet Jebus, it's been a long time.

2009-06-17T22:17:00.004-06:00

Oooh, look, it's a bar named after my alter ego!

What can I say? I've been a traveling/learning/working fool lately. Yes, since April 26, the date of my last post. Judge me if you will.

Class got out May 27 and I promptly ran away for the weekend to Eugene and West Salem, Oregon. What's in Eugene, OR, you may ask? (Don't you know me at all?) Wine. Of course. Ace had a work thing in Eugene which = free hotel stay. All I had to find was a cheap flight. My years of wasting time on the interwebs paid off and I found a last minute trip for less than $300 including rental car.

Ace and I'd already had a trip to San Fran planned for this past weekend. So two trips in two weeks with the boyfriend. I think we've survived. In between eating pricey San Fran style (everything is pricey in SF, people, everything), we went to see Wicked. It's a musical, but things blow up and there are car crashes and everything so it was cool for Ace to see it with me. (not really)

The food, while overpriced, was awesome. The people were pleasantly pleasant, with a few exceptions. But the rude ones were the exception, not the norm. The weather was fantastic and my legs hurt from walking too many hills. Ace is still speaking to me, although a little less than he used to, so I think it was a good trip. (All in all, he talks a lot less than he used to anyway. Sometimes I think he has laryngitis. Other times I think he's plotting of ways to get rid of me.)

In between trips I married my friends. You read that right: I. Married. My. Friends. Brian and Melissa wanted a secular ceremony and in Colorado anyone can do the deed, so they asked me. I secretly think they were trying to save the $400 officiant fee, but I was honored and pleased to marry two of my dear friends. Now I can add "Officiant" to my list of titles. I may even move to a state where same-sex marriage is legal so I can officate all over the place.

I also did a tri on a Friday night. It was awesome but hurt like hell because my training for this one consisted of running a few times and one bike ride a week before. I survived nonetheless and plan to do another one in two weeks, which should also hurt like hell because I've done little to no training. Unless you count climbing hills to my next meal in San Fran, then yes, I've done some training.

I ordered a book from the library which is supposed to translate boyspeak (or lack thereof) into English. Once I have a good translation, I can let you know how things are really going with the boyfriend.

Rocky can't chew gum, and other facts discovered on rainy Sunday nights

2009-04-26T21:52:00.004-06:00

Hello.

Betcha thought I did one of those "off to do homework" kind of things. You'd be wrong. No. I've been doing all sorts of things except homework lately. Managing my minions at work for one. Not training for the 5k I ran this morning in record time (thank you very much). Hoo, and don't forget all abstinence I've been up to: I've stopped drinking on weekdays (again) just to see if 1) I was capable of it, and 2) lose a few l-bs that somehow crept up on me over the winter.

This weekend I discovered my newest photography project (mandals mockumentary forthcoming, promise!) and went forth to photograph it with zest. In the process, this morning I was dry humped by the local MLS team's mascot (a racoony-looking fella with a sweat problem) and Friday night I was nearly disrobed by the Colorado Rockies mascot, Dinger. Yes, my latest project is mascots. At first I was going to go for only restaurant mascots as I've already collected the Honey Baked Ham Bee (exhibit A) and the Chick-fil-A Cow. But then J pointed out that after Ronald McDonald, there just aren't that many restaurants with mascots these days. Gone are the Bob's Big Boys of the world. It's a crying shame, I tell you.

Exhibit A: Honey, Honey

On the dogger front... Saturday I woke up hungover from too much Dinger love and made a decision. The hounds and I marched down to the local Petco and bought new collars. Rocky's had his Denver Broncos collar for 8 years and, well, I just don't give a crap about foosball (the devil's game). It was the ex's thing. And poor Paddi came with the collar she was wearing. So now they have a whole new wardrobe and I feel like they are really "mine." Photos available upon request.

It's Sunday night. It's raining. I'm rocking out to South Park: Chef Aid soundtrack mixed in with a little Van Morrison on the side. As I was engrosed in homework*, I found out the hard way that Rocky can't chew gum. Not for lack of trying on his part, mind you.

Back to the books. This paper ain't gunna write itself.

*Really, this time I'm doing homework!

Back by popular demand

2009-04-01T00:09:00.000-06:00

No, I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere. I went to D.C. for a work conference, finished up a final project for school and then went on spring break with the other 120 million Americans and Canadians who weren't scared off by the drug wars south of the border. All of whom were staying at our resort.

So, I'm back from my week long vacation in Mexico with Ace, where I became Monica Geller and switched hotel rooms three times. The third time was totally worth it because we got upgraded to a 5-Diamond resort where they rub your feet and little children blow dry your hair with feathers.

Overall it was an awesome vacation. I wish I could say that I did a lot, but I didn't. I ate, drank, slept, tanned, um, you know, and repeat. For 7 days. Heaven.

Then on the 5th day, well... Ace and I had an argument. Most likely fueled by too much sun and hooch. (Mexican hooch is the worst for that.) It could have been the topless sunbathing prune on the beach. I'm pretty sure I saw Ace flirting with it. On the 6th day, there was another argument, this time definitely fueled by too much sun and hooch. We're back to the 1st world and everything seems to be going ok. I think we were both under a lot of stress because of the drug lords... roaming all over the place. They were in the water, in the trees, in the pool, in the tamales... Geesh.

I've been back for a week and half, and so far, I've been working balls out on work and school. That's a lie. I've mostly been working on work. Yours truly is now the proud manager of seven unpaid interns, one graduate assistant and three freelancers. I fired a freelancer this week and replaced her with a new one. It felt good, crushing another person's soul. (kidding!) Tonight I'm editing a podcast and will post it on the www's. Pay no mind that I've never done this before... I'm making it up as I go along. This is pretty much my M.O. of late. Hopefully nobody catches on before I get this thing hot-wired.

Let's see... what else is going on at the chick haus? Oooh, over-achiever me got another A in a class. Don't ask me how. I slacked off like slacking off was my full-time job in that last class. (I'm dangerously close to topping that in my current class.) The hound dogs have moved into the Cottage full-time. It's all beagles, all the time. I'll save that for another post. It'll be a good 'un.

Ms. Daphne Goes to Washington

2009-03-06T05:55:00.002-07:00

My trip to Washington, D.C. was overshadowed by Brad Pitt's secret meeting with Obama yesterday. Maybe I'm not having any secret rendezvous with St. O, but I'm still getting things done:

Flew in to D.C. before God woke up.
Managed to retrieve my checked luggage.
Missed 17 hotel shuttles because they code share with another hotel, yet the front desk doesn't tell you this when you call.
Almost took a cab to the hotel, but didn't when discovered it was the only cab on the planet not to accept credit cards. (Who has cash?)
Paid $12 to connect to the interwebs from my hotel room.
Went the wrong direction on the Metro after the opening session.
Walked aimlessly around Georgetown looking for the right place to eat. (not too hot, not too cold...)
Paid $12 for a cosmo at dinner. (got to love the East Coast)
Almost overslept my morning session.

So you see, mine has been a productive 24 hours in our nation's capital. Take that, Pitt.

Grad School Level Multitasking

2009-02-17T01:08:00.003-07:00

God help me but I've taken that drunken impostor Scot's advice and tried to find creative ways to drink whilst in class. My mom didn't call me smart ass for nothing because I think I've finally found a way. My Customer Experience Marketing (CEM) class requires each team to conduct a mini-audit of a company for our final project. Being the enterprising (and multitasking) students we are, my team decided on New Belgium Brewery as our mini-audit company.

Some teams decided on Starbucks (yawn), Casa Bonita (yes, it does exist, not just a made up South Park episode), the Container Store (ho-hum), and Best Buy (whatevs). Clearly, my team was the only one really thinking this project through.

Tomorrow we are going to visit the brewery to get the full, um, experience. I'm taking a half day off of work for this "experience." The team also has to visit a bar, a liquor store, a party and apres ski at one of the local resorts. It's for class. Look, I've got a syllabus saying so.

Don't judge the student. Judge the system.

Cheers!

You call that barking?

2009-02-10T19:59:00.002-07:00

Of dogs and men.

That should be the title of my week/month/year thus far. A few weeks ago the former Mr. "offered" for me to take the dogs full time. This is unusual because when we were settling the assets, his idea of "fair" was for the dogs to live at the country house and I could come visit them on weekends. Kind of like a dog museum. I'm sure he thought that I could look at them through the kitchen window for 10 minutes and then leave.

So colored me surprised when he said that he wanted more "him" time. Translation: time without the dogs. I bit my tongue when he said it again this weekend. I asked him why and he said that he was "moving on to a new phase in his life." 'What's her name' was my first question. Don't ask me why I didn't ask. OK, ask. Go on. Well, since you insist... I didn't ask because I just don't give a shit. There. I put it out there. The boyfriend, Ace – yeah, he's still around, finds it unusual that I don't talk to the Mr. more about my life. I find it odd that exes would talk to each other at all.

Ace and I spend a lot of time together. Sometimes it's overwhelming. He's not in school so he really can't sympathize with my workload and schedule. He tries hard to understand but when I'm doing homework, well, let's just say my new nickname for him is "What's up, Rocky?". Rocky has an unhealthy need for attention. So does Ace.

I asked Ace about the dogs full time situation. He was quiet. I repeated my question. This would impact my already limited flexibility. Being a full time dog mom is fine with me, but I wanted his opinion. Maybe because I thought it would be the same as mine. Or maybe because I thought by asking, he would see that I care about his opinions. Whatever. I think I was just being nice.

When he answered he said: "I like your dogs... it's just their incessant barking that drives me crazy." I was quiet for a few seconds and then I burst out laughing! Incessant barking? Really? I've had neighbors tell me that they hardly notice that I have dogs. They bark. Yes. More than some breeds? Maybe. More than the average beagle? Hell, no.

So then "we" got off on a tangent about all the things that he didn't like about my little cottage. It was then that I spoke up. This is a BFD for me. Usually I bury my feelings and get mad later. I calmly said to him: "I know that my house and my life is not perfect. But it's mine and I'm happy with it. I'm not asking you to be. Please stop being so critical of my choices."

He really didn't have a comeback for that one. Just that he complains when he's not comfortable. Tonight I'm taking a break and getting a little work done. And making mac 'n cheese. And sleeping in the middle of the bed. And listening to my music. And living my perfectly imperfect life.

I'll think about the dogs, and the men, tomorrow.

Oh shit was right, and there's piles of it!

2009-01-29T00:44:00.004-07:00

So yes, I accepted the interim acting big job. It's not official until HR signs off on it and to do that, they have to get a memo from God and Pres. Obama saying it's official. In the mean time, I'm working full time and going to school part time and being a dog mom part time and drinking part time. OK, I'm dedicating 3/4 time to drinking. You know me too well.

You know that dreadful feeling that there's just something you should be working on, but you can't quite remember what it is? Yeah, I have that feeling every. single. day. at work in my new position. The reason? Her name is Sally. (Not her real name.) She left two weeks ago. I took over her job three weeks ago.

In the week before she left she was supposed to get me:
1. a list of projects she's working on and the status
2. a list of freelancers she's got projects working on, the status, and their contact info
3. a list of freelancers and what their talents are/contact info
4. two, no, three writing projects finalized and ready for layout

So far I have:
5. None of the above.

As a result I also have:
6. 60 hour work weeks, including working at 12:30 am. For. Work.
7. a sneaking suspicion that there is something I should be doing, especially when people call me/stop by my desk/email me with "hey, do you know how the TPS report is coming along?" type questions and I've never heard of said report. (I do know that you're supposed to put a cover page on it though.)
8. a strong desire to be from the South so I could say things like, "seriously y'all?". Instead y'all comes out sounding wrong without the soothing drawaaaaal.

But seriously, y'all? Why do I always get picked to clean up other people's shit?

Oh shit.

2009-01-12T22:54:00.003-07:00

That was the first thought I had when my boss sent me this email:

"Hi! Do you have time first thing Monday to grab some coffee and chat? Thanks!"

This could go two ways: she could fire me or offer me a full time job. I was crossing my fingers that it was the latter.

It was also the first thought I had when she placed the job description for the supermegahugeVIP position in front of me and asked me if there was any interest.

Oh shit.

It's a great job. With benefits. And tuition waiver. And lots o' responsibility. And underlings. And, did I mention, a real salary. One that would make my dream of buying brand name food at the grocery store a reality.

And I could totally do it. All of the stuff on the list is stuff I know how to do. It's just that there's So. Much. Of. It. Did I mention that I'd have underlings? And people to manage. And decisions to make. And power to be had.

But oh shit.

Side effects may include embarrassment

2009-01-09T09:21:00.003-07:00

I went to the IT dept to have my name changed on the Exchange Server. The kid (not joking, he's a junior in college) who is the head of the IT dept looks at me and says, "congratulations on getting married." At which point I say, "oh, no, other way." He looks at me confused for a minute and then says, "well, this is awkward. Congratulations, anyway?"

****

My mom was visiting this week. She rang up an old friend's daughter who lives here in town. Keep in mind that I only heard half the conversation:

Mom: I'm staying at Stephanie's house. She works tomorrow from 8:30-2:30. Then she has class at 6-8.

Sue asks a question.

Mom: oh no, she lives over by the University. Do you know where that is?

Sue says something.

Mom: oh, no, it's something else... (pause) there's been some changes in her life (pause)

Me: I got a divorce Sue! (I yell) You can say it mom, it's ok.

Mom: I'm having a hard time saying it. She's had some lifestyle changes recently.

Me: I'm not a lesbian mom! I got a divorce. It's ok to say it.

Mom: well, she got a divorce... let me give you to her so she can give you her address.

Obligatory end of the year posting

2008-12-31T16:59:00.002-07:00

Hey kids! It's NYE and I've been a total slacker on my postings. One of my resolutions is to spend more time thinking about how I ignore writing my blog. I figure that will get me off my ass and get me posting more. Riiiiight.

NYE is traditionally a booooring time around the Creative HQ. Usually I watch the ball drop on the DVR the next morning. But this year, guess who was the popular girl in town? Go on, guess. I'll wait... ok, it's me! I was invited to not one, not two, not three, but 1,467 parties! Alright, I was invited to four parties and 11 bars holding parties. But that's a lot of invitations, my friends and lurkers.

Since my other NY resolution is to spend less money on hooch (hey, stop laughing), I thought I'd get a head start by going to a house party instead of a bar. As Ace and I are both trying to spend less on hooch (see, it's less funny when my boyfriend is involved, isn't it? Well?) we nixed the idea of going to smanchy town bar parties and instead are going where everybody knows our names. I do have to take a dish, and a bottle of something. My friend R is hosting a Special Edition Supper Club (usually held on Sundays. Thursday is the new Sunday kids.). So I get to take food and a bottle of sparkling wine that someone gave me for my housewarming party. I'm taking Hoppin' Johns and peanut brittle. HJ is a southern thing. It's supposed to bring you good luck in the new year. I figured it can't hurt. Peanut brittle was made on a whim. I was ansy this afternoon and thought I'd see what kind of candy I could make if I didn't leave the house. Peanuts+sugar+heat and voila! My dentist loves me, bitches.

But all these invitations have caused considerable drama within my social circle. Two of my friends B and J called me non-stop today trying to coordinate the parties and events they think we're attending. I had to break it to them that I was going to stay at the house party instead of going with them to a swanky bar to toast the NY. B had already made reservations for us at said bar. J was nearly hyperventilating because she hates to have people unhappy. I was calm as I said to them: go to your crazy overpriced bar, I'm staying in and getting drunk on the cheap. It's all working out, but it was touch and go for a few hours this afternoon. (See brittle, peanut above.)

That brings me to my final resolution for 2009: be a better communicator about hooch and money. I just need to tell my friends clearly that I. Can. Not. Spend. Money. It's not personal, it's the bank. They expect me to have money in my account when I write checks. Whatevah.

Happy New Year lurkers. And you, too, friends.

More craptastic than this time last year.

2008-12-20T12:48:00.004-07:00

Actually, that's not true. This time last year I was home alone, crying, drunk, with no one but the dawgs to mock me in their usual manner. I managed to set up the tree but couldn't work up the energy to put any decorations on it. This year, well, it's completely different. I'm still a little drunk. Not crying (much). Pretty happy. And looky! Oooh, ornaments somehow made it on my tree. Look close enough and you can spot my red wine teeth. Candid pictures are so much fun, non? You can thank Ace* for that.

But I'm happy. Really. Content. Fine with things. I'm learning to live in my own skin, my own way. Thursday night I set up all my online bill pay accounts and even paid a bill. It's true! I'm learning to be self-sufficient.

I discovered a few new friends. A new library. A new neighborhood. A new dive bar. And a new boyfriend.

Chief (the cook), me and Ace on his birthday at our newest favoritest dive bar, Sam's.

Things are slowly moving along. Still looking for a FT job. Still liking my PT job. Looking forward to what's next.

*Ace is the nickname bestowed on the boyfriend after a lengthy debate amongst my posse. He's the helpful hardware man. If you know what I mean. He helped with the tree. And hanging pictures. And fixing my interweb connection. And does dishes. And... oh you get the idea.

Secret Project

2008-12-08T11:27:00.002-07:00

Because I just do not have enough to do with my time, I've started a secret project. Of course, by saying this on the interwebs, it will remain completely confidential, right?

What is my secret project? Well, it's a secret. I will tell you that it involves writing. A lot. A whole book's worth of writing, if you will.

I'm working on the outline this week and will start writing said secret project in the next few days. I've got a lot of words rolling around in my head and I want to get them on the 'puter before another bottle of wine swishes them out.

Chapter 1: It started with a text. (or txt)
Chapter 2: They aren't lesbians?
Chapter 3: About a boy
Chapter 4: The Yellowtail Incident
Chapter 5: Lactose is for lovers
Chapter 6: TBD

I'm looking for an agent or maybe I'll just self-publish. I've heard great things about options for wwwdotcom publishing.

Puppy tales.

2008-12-03T16:06:00.009-07:00

Where did I leave off? Oh yes, puppies. Sorry Heather, they aren’t the puppies you’re thinking of. I’m talking about the male half of our species.

Gratuitous puppy pic.

Things with Bachelor #1 are pretty much over. Actually, saying pretty much is a nice way to say that we ignored each other for a few weeks and then we sort of broke up over the phone when he found out that I was on match.com. How did he find out? You already know the answer to that question. I say “sort of” broke up because we kind of did and I wanted to talk in person but then I got busy with school/life/puppies and forgot to get around to it. Shows you how much I was attached to the whole thing in the first place. It was a great relationship for the time in my life when I needed someone to distract me from the shit that was going on. For that I’m thankful. And over it. Because…

A few weeks ago I met a real young pup at Jordan’s (shocker, I was at Jordan’s). I thought he was 28, but turns out that he’s 24. He was cute and all but Jebus, the boy was 4 when I was in high school. That’s just so… wrong. But it was flattering to meet someone who found me attractive and wasn’t afraid to say it out loud. (Ahem, Bach #1) I’ve also met an elderly black man who said similar things. This was all starting to make me wonder about the puppies my age: what is it about these guys? They have an aversion to saying anything nice about a woman lest she think that he means “let’s get married and have six kids” when he says “you’re the hottest 34 year old I’ve ever met” (true quote of my 24 yr old puppy).

Alas, the timing wasn’t right with Jr. because, before it could go anywhere, he got carted off to the pokey for a mystery offense that equals 40 days incarceration. (Read: second DUI) Lord, he really is young.

Never fear, the puppy tale is not over yet… I told you about my GA who was trying to set me up with the older D.A.? Well he passed on my card and said D.A. made contact. Too late for the lawman because I met Someone. You read that right. That’s a someone with a Capital S. He’s so much a Someone that I don’t want to write too much about him. Except that he’s hott, can't stop calling me nice names, smart, can cook, does dishes!, and he makes me smile and giggle like a school girl. (tee hee) Time disappears when we're together.

Me and my girl posse are currently working on a nickname for The Someone. I'll take suggestions from the crowd just as long as they are clean.

Back to this match.com thing. So I’m on match and I paid for it... But I like this guy. A. Lot. Should I hedge my bets and stay on match? So far I’m unimpressed by the pickin’s. Maybe it’s because I met this guy offline. No computer aided dating required. We met the old fashioned way: at his ex-girlfriend’s house. The ex-girlfriend who is a friend of mine. (Awkward, non?) Maybe I’m just nervous that something this good could happen so soon. I’m kind of freaked out by the idea that I want to spend so much time with someone when I fought so hard to get where I am right now. Maybe I just don’t know anything at all.

I’m going with the last bit.

Snips of snails, and puppy dog tails

2008-11-12T11:14:00.007-07:00

That's what little boys are made of.

What are young men made of?
Sighs and leers and crocodile tears;

And young women? That's debatable. This week I'm full of caffeine, Advil, instant oatmeal and Emergen-C. I'm low on sleep, patience, and time.

Last week of school. Two research projects complete. One more to go. Update after my final exam on Tuesday. (It involves puppies. Update, not the exam.)

91 days

2008-11-07T14:45:00.002-07:00

On Monday, I'll officially be Miss Daphne again.

The last three months have been challenging. Sometimes scary. And lonely. And exciting. And terrifying. And hopeful. All of it, all rolled into one.

Now I'm faced with the decision of going back to my maiden name. This is a huge PITA as it means I have to get a new passport, new credit cards, new checks, new library cards, new frequently flyer mileage card, new lease paperwork, new everything. Really makes me wish I had kept the first name to begin with.

In spite of it all, I'm looking forward to walking through the doors that will open with this new part of my life.

Thanks for being here with me.

You'll call him President Action Figure, thank you.

2008-11-05T09:47:00.002-07:00

Did that really happen last night or was I drunk on $7 a glass cabernet?

Wild and crazy sober Halloween

2008-11-03T18:44:00.006-07:00

My dream of being a living Barbie doll was realized Friday night for Halloween. After weeks of looking for quad roller skates, and some last minute costuming, I was ready to greet my public as Roller Derby Barbie.

Because I was on wheels the whole night, I volunteered to be the DD*. Honestly, I just don’t think I could have stayed upright and gotten drunk at the same time. Plus, it’s just really fun to be snarky towards drunk people on Halloween. Hella fun actually.

Sarah's Unite: Hockey Mom, VPILF, Miss Wasilla 1984

Most of the reaction to my costume was: 1) surprised, 2) awed, and 3) lewd. About 98% of the guys immediately thought that I was Heather Graham’s character from Boogie Nights. No. I was not Roller Girl. (And, no, I don’t think that “heeeeeey Roller Girl!” is a good pick up line.) Did she wear a roller derby shirt and knee/elbow pads? I think not. Plus Barbie is a classy lady. Not like that slut that Ms. Graham played.

My favorite costume by far was J’s friend B, who came as Kipp from Napoleon Dynamite.

He looked so much like him that I’m still laughing as I type this. J and I hit two house parties over the course of four hours and ended the night at our regular hangout, Jordans. Because sometimes you just want to go where everyone knows your name. All the bartenders and waiters were loaded. I’m pretty sure that’s a liability of some kind. As DD I had to wait for my drunk friends to leave, which was closing time. After closing time really… The bouncer kicked us out. By the time I got home at 2 am, I had made a whole bunch of new friends and new found love for roller skating. Like so many other things, it really is like riding a bike.

*I took shoes to wear while walking and driving. I’m crazy, not insane.

Vote for Pedro

2008-10-29T12:11:00.002-06:00

I know you're sick of it. I'm sick of it. The election of the century seems to have lasted a century (or more). The commercials, the rhetoric, the bullshite, the crazy caribou eating VPILF. All of it will come to an end soon.

I mailed my ballot last week. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing like the feeling of standing in the voting booth and pushing the button for your candidate(s). But I've gone mail-in for the last few years, mostly from convenience.

Filling in the bubble for Obama made my heart jump a bit. This is the most exciting election of my young life. It even beats my first election when I got to chose between George H.W. Bush and William Jefferson Clinton. Filling in the bubbles on all the wacked out amendments made me angry. I really get pissy when people keep wanting to add more amendments to the state constitution. Maybe I don't understand the reasons, but why can't we have a statute instead of an amendment? That way it's easier to fix a fuck up later on. When it's in the constitution it takes an Act of God to change it.

Again, I know you're sick of the campaign. But please, go vote. Normally I don't care who a person votes for. I just want people to vote. So many Americans take this right for granted. This makes me mad and disappointed at the same time. (A lot of women take it for granted that we've only had the right to vote for 70 years. Vote bitches! Vote!)

This year I'm making the case for Obama. So if you can't decide on who to vote for this year, and you really don't want to vote for Obama, there are 12 other candidates on the ballot for POTUS. Pick any other one besides McCain. I hear the Boston Tea Party candidates are good choices.

Sunday Night Supper Club

2008-10-27T12:40:00.005-06:00

The award for the best BFF ever goes to my BFF for starting a Sunday Night Supper Club. This past weekend was a social whirlwind for me, as have all weekends since my singledom began. But this Sunday night I needed a little comforting as it was the end of my week with the kids and I was sad sitting in my empty, quiet house all alone.

The ex came and got the kids at 2:00 yesterday. At 3:00 I went to school to use the interwebs, as I'm too cheap to pay for www access at the Cottage. It's a 10 minute walk to school or the local coffee shop with wifi; I figure, why bother with the expense? The only thing I really miss is Pandora. Everything can wait until I'm in wifi range.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, I was at school checking out what was going on in the world (and by world I mean facebook, twitter, huffpo, etc) and looking for skates for my Halloween costume. I was kind of dreading going home to an empty dog-free house. But lo! I get a text from my BFF that soup was on at 5:30.

At 5:30 I was at her house enjoying a margarita with five of our mutual single friends. There was one token male, who was a good sport and listened and laughed at all of our dating stories. (He may even give me a complete set of China that his mother gave him and he can't use. Score!) BFF served a spicy white bean and chicken soup and someone brought cookies for dessert. As we ate, and talked, and laughed, we moved from margs to wine, and more wine, and next thing I knew, it was 9 pm and everyone was gathering their coats to leave.

Next week Moira promises to host the offical Sunday Night Supper Club at her house. Then it's Teresa's turn, then Rachel's... and so on. Once I get a dining room table, they are all invited to mine.

I'm actually thinking of throwing a winter BBQ at the Cottage. We'll have s'mores, hot cocoa with schnaps, cider and Tuaca, and a fire pit to stay warm. Oh, and some food of some kind. Probably beef brisket, corn on the cob and a mystery side dish to be named later.

If you're in the neighborhood, stop by.

File under: OMFG!

2008-10-22T13:49:00.002-06:00

Don't you hate it when something happens to you that involves a friend but you can't tell said friend because it would really piss her off and hurt her feelings? Yeah. Me too. I have got to tell someone about this, and oh, look at that, you're the lucky winners.

Rewind a few weeks... my friends and I play trivia at the local pub every Tuesday night. Half the fun is effing with the quizmaster, who is a douche, but we mess with him anyway because it normally proves entertaining. A few weeks ago my friend J wrote MY phone number on the quiz sheet and turned it in with our answers for the round. The douche then calls ME and I proceed to laugh it off but give him J's phone number because she's kind of interested in him and I am definitely not.

So he calls her, they go out. He starts stalking her. Calls her several times a day. Wants to have her babies, etc. She avoids him until a few days before she's set to go out of town for the weekend (Vegas, actually). They go out one more time. He offers to fly to Vegas with her for the weekend. Creepy. She declines this creepy, yet generous, offer. She brings him to our student happy hour downtown. Being the passive aggressive type, she asks me what to do since he is now a full blown stalker. I drop a few hints with him that neither J or I are on the market for serious relationships. He gets mad and leaves.

A week goes by. He un-friends us on facebook (mature, I know). He stops calling her. We still go to trivia but she avoids him. We stopped effing with him on the trivia sheets. He's kind of a douche to me when I said hello one night. So we all figured that he's just a dick and let it go.

That brings us to last night. Oh lord. Last night he was a douche, as expected. But J being the snarky, passive aggressive, and slightly drunk blond that she is, decided to send him a blowjob shot anonymously. So he thanked the crowd for it and we thought that was the end of it.

Not so. J decides to re-start the effing with the douche. After 7 or 9 Mic Ultras, she writes on one of the answer sheets, "hope you enjoyed the BJ." Groooooaaaaan. The evening winds down. Our team loses. Horribly. As I'm getting ready to leave, I get a text message from the douche.

Douche: what are u doing after this :)

OMG.

To which I respond: why?
Douche: wondering if u felt like having a drink and hanging out?

OMG!

To which I respond: got to go let my dogs out. see u next week!
Douche: I can come to u. It does not have to be complicated.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

To which I respond: goodnight :)

Thing is, he knows that J and I are good friends. He knows that I'm going to tell her about this. He knows that this is the biggest douche move in the history of douche moves. Yet he does it anyway. I can't tell J. She'll be pissed and hurt and do something really stupid that could quite possibly get her (or me) arrested. Plus it's a douche move. But I can't keep it to myself. Something like this is too good to keep all bottled up.

OMFG.

I'll take 'Things that stink for $100', Trebek.

2008-10-20T12:33:00.004-06:00

When I moved out of the country house into my city house I left the kids with their dad, per our custody arrangement. We’re trying one week on, one week off. It’s my week with the kids and so far it stinks. I mean specifically, P-dawg stinks. She’s got an upset tummy. (Dog people out there know of what I speak.) Together, she and R-fella have tried their best to redecorate my cottage Au Chien Naturale. But exploding dog and all, I’m delighted to have them with me. I didn’t realize how much just having them in the room with me would feel so good. (And stinky.) Last Saturday I moved my bed and as a result, I left the dogs for the week with their dad. It was so unbelievably hard. It tore a piece of my heart out. I sobbed when I said goodbye to them. I sobbed when I packed up the car one last time. I sobbed uncontrollably as I drove to my new life. I wouldn’t have left them if I thought that he wouldn’t love them as much as I do, but it still didn’t make it any better. The week without them flew by because I was busy with school, papers, social events and work. Mostly with the social events.

Exhibit A:
Tuesday: trivia.
Wednesday: going away party for former classmate.
Thursday: The Macallan whisky tasting.
Friday: wine drinking at a fundraiser.
Saturday: beer drinking and bowling at another fundraiser.

I need a week off for rehab. I’m looking forward to a quiet week with my hounds, stinky dog ass and all.

collegematch.com

2008-10-15T17:22:00.004-06:00

Now that I'm nearly officially single, aka "on the market," aka "available," aka, "fresh meat," I've had multiple offers for people to play matchmaker. They are all centered around my college, which lends credibility to the idea that women go to college to get an Mrs. degree. Why they think I need help with dating, I don't know. It must have something to do with the fact that humans are social creatures and we want everyone to just get along.

My current matchmakers include:
1. Graduate Assistant. He's trying to set me up with a local D.A. who, in his words, "if I were gay I would totally do this guy." There's a testimonial if I've ever heard one.

2. Little Indian school friend. He's trying to set me up with his 25-year-old roommate. Not sure why but I think it has to do with his culture's obsession with arranged marriages. Someone needs to tell him that I don't date children.

3. Designer guy in the office. He's trying to set me up with his 40-year-old, divorced with two kids, mountain biking friend from Manchester. Hmm. I don't know anything about Manchester. (international stalkers?) On the positive front, he's physically fit and is a Ginger. Negative: he pays $1,000,000 month in alimony to his ex.

4. Sorority sister. She's pushing former School Boyfriend on me. Not that we ever dated. Or talked about dating. Or even saw each outside of official school functions. But she keeps pushing him on me. Even though I totally broke up with him after he stopped coming by my office twice a week when he graduated.

While it is amusing, it is also somewhat comforting that I have so many male friends who think that I'm datable. A girl could do worse for friends. It's nice to know that I have options.

www.nointernetaccess.com

2008-10-13T09:08:00.003-06:00

I've moved into my little cottage on college lane. It's easily described as "cute" or "cozy," which is code for "small" or "tiny." But it's ok. It's just me and my half-time dogs. (Custody arrangement blog forthcoming.)

The good news is that the water works. The heat works. The electricity works. Well, there's a funny smell whenever I use my hairdryer. I'm just going to pretend that I didn't smell that. And buy a fire extinguisher.

The bad news is that I don't have internet access. Yes, you read that right. No. Internet. Access. What is a girl with a web addiction supposed to do?

In the mean time, I have to walk to campus (the horror) to use the interwebs. Never fear, I've got tech support on it.

Neighbor Guy

2008-10-06T08:43:00.004-06:00

Well I haven't even moved in all my crap yet and I've met the local neighborhood watch. Yesterday I was unloading a car full of boxes when Neighbor Guy came over to the fence to ask if I was the new Neighbor Girl. We'd met before when I was looking at the house, and he seemed nice enough, a little odd, but then who isn't? He's an ex-cop (former? retired? I didn't ask) doesn't like anyone messing with anyone in his neighborhood. "You just let me know if anyone messes with you, 'cus I don't put up with that. I'll take care of it." What is he going to do, I wondered? Come to think of it, I don't really want to know. I met one of his daughters and will soon know the entire family. I'm sure I'll be invited over for coffee and polite conversation in the living room one of these days.

He wasn't too keen on the idea of two beagles living next door. Once he meets them and sees how Paddi can take care of squirrels, I'm sure he'll change his mind. Or not. He doesn't tolerate anyone messing with anyone in his neighborhood.

I will buy you a new life.

2008-10-04T11:37:00.002-06:00

Yesterday I spent the better part of the day cleaning my new house. It's not that it was dirty, per se, it's just that it wasn't clean enough. For me. I'm OCD like that. And the owner had refinished the hardwood floors so there was a fine layer of floor dust all over the walls, door jams, ceilings, appliances, etc.

I'm not sure when exactly I'm moving into my new house. It's a moving target. I've got a mid-term on Tuesday that takes priority. Of course moving provides a nice, messy, distraction and fodder for procrastination. I haven't even moved in and I've already had two guests: J and my BFF. Both stopped by to see how they could help, but really cleaning a small house is one woman show. And I'm OCD like that. Did I mention that already? Oh. Well, I'm OCD.

It's an adorable, small, girly house with a nice sized yard for hound dogs. I'll get pictures up as soon as I'm done moving. I'm filled with mixed emotions about this move. And the changes in my life. So far I've done a really good job disconnecting from the reality of what I'm doing. For the past six weeks I've operated on auto-pilot, taking care of tasks on my to-do list without allowing myself to pay attention to the subject matter. My brain just can't handle the emotions and the tasks at the same time. I have a feeling that I'll fall apart after I finally move out of my old life and move into my new life.

I've been living with one foot in each life for months now. I described it once as trying to steal home plate in baseball. I've got one toe firmly stuck to the third base pad and the other pointed towards home. It's hard to let go of the pad, to push off and make a run for it. Those last 90 feet seem a lot further away than they really are. The safety of staying on base is hard to give up. You never know what's going to happen. Even though I'm standing still, my heartbeat rings in my ears and I'm short of breath.

It's too late to stay on base.

Brings a tear to my eye.

2008-09-29T19:14:00.002-06:00

The office I work in spends a lot of time tracking and submitting college rankings for U.S. News, Business Week and the Wall Street Journal. Rankings are important to some people. You want to know that your degree is going to mean something when you go out to find a job post-graduation.

My college is usually ranked rather high for certain criteria and the university as a whole is fairly well known in the region. Now there's another ranking to be proud of:

Stanford University Rises to the Top of 2008 Trojan Sexual Health Report Card

We're number 5 in the country. No 1 in the region. No 1 in the Sun Belt conference.

That's going at the top of my resume.

Lame Excuses

2008-09-21T18:56:00.009-06:00

The Mandals Mockumentary has been shelved for lack of funding. My production company, Two Drunk Chicks, decided to drink our production budget instead of completing the mockumentary. Like the other unfinished masterpieces of all time - Orson Welles' Don Quixote, Monroe's Something's Got to Give, and Hendrix's First Rays of the New Rising Sun - Mandals On My Mind will sit on the shelf, gathering dust until such time as we secure another round of funding. (I suspect that it will be around December 1. )

Other lame excuses for not finishing Mandals On My Mind:

I finished my last tri of the season yesterday with my best time ever. I don't know how that happened, but I suspect that it had something to do with why my ass hurts. I went balls out on the bike portion, which resulted in a blazing fast time in the second leg but I'm paying for it today. (Eye Candy, below)
Looking for a place to live that meets all my tough standards: clean, safe, not a shithole, in a decent area, central part of town, close to public transport, has windows, no homeless guy living in my window well, etc. This is harder than it sounds, apparently.
Filing all my divorce papers with the county court. Royal P.I.T.A. But it's done. In another 5-6 weeks I shall drop the Mrs and go back to little ol' me once again.
Arguing over who's CDs and DVDs are mine or his. Honestly I could care less.
Reading, writing and 'rithmatic for grad school.
Doing other... things... that involve staying up way past my bedtime.
Spending more time than sensible at Jordan's playing Geeks Who Drink, eating, drinking, drinking some more, and allowing the bartenders to give me free shots.

Eye Candy: starting the run yesterday. (Yes, I run in a skirt. It's awesome.)
I don't understand those people who can look good after a triathlon.
I always look like a dead rat dragged around a nuclear waste facility by a drunken cat.

...and all I got was this lousy bottle of wine.

2008-09-18T22:22:00.005-06:00

My connected friend J got us an invite to the Denver Broncos Darrent Williams' Fundraiser on Monday night. (Williams died in 2007 from a drive-by shooting on New Years Eve/Day. Tragic, terribly sad and tragic.) I didn't know that I was going the Broncos' event. She sold me the event like this: "do you want to go to a fundraiser where there is a lot of free wine and football players?" Um, yeah.

When I got there I realized, quickly, that I was duped. Duped I say, into attending an event with half the Denver Broncos football team and some of the Denver Nuggets basketball team. Damn her!

It was the typical silent and live auction-type fundraiser with fancy food and open bar. Oh, and professional athletes. Did I mention the professional athletes? At one point was chatting with a guy who happens to go to school with me (Schoolboy) and he kept looking away. I finally asked Schoolboy if he needed to go talk to someone. He did a double take and I looked over to where he was looking. It was Rod Smith. He then said, "oh sorry, you know when you're talking to a cute girl and someone famous walks by?" Me: is this supposed to be a compliment? Him: "I'm just torn between talking to you and getting my picture with Rod Smith." Me: I'm thinking you should go for Rod.

Mr. Rod Smith

Mr. and Mrs. John Lynch

Our new boyfriend Carmelo Anthony.

Two drunk chicks.

I also got excessively hit on by Wine Guy (no picture) who gave me a $45 bottle of Tempranillo as if it was no big deal. (I didn't know the price of the wine when he gave it to me. I looked it up on the interwebs when I got home.) He was a sweet guy but it was never going to happen... however, maybe I could just use him for his wine? After all, I am a drunken tramp with a wine habit.

Lukewarm off the press!*

2008-09-15T01:03:00.012-06:00

*When news breaks, I take a nap.

The DNC has been covered ad nauseam from the politicians’ speeches to the protesters, from the friendliness of the locals to the lack of proper NYC-style party accommodations in the Mile High City. My coverage was a little different. I set out to document the weird, the odd and the downright freakiness that grew out of Denver’s Party of the Century.

Thank goodness I took the train downtown, because every street was either closed off or congested with cabs/protesters/police/MSNBC/tourists. The 16th Street Mall (pedestrian traffic only) was packed with humanity. And it smelled. Bad. I’ve never smelled that before in Denver. (NYC, yes. Paris, hell yes.) It was the smell of 500,000 hippies, PR folk, swag peddlers, porn peddlers, call girls, media, tourists, and delegates from Lincoln, all packed into a few blocks in 90 degree heat.

Highlights

Just a few cops. With great legs.

Not sure what his deal was.
Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to wear this?

It's not an invitation, just a suggestion.

Yes, it is fully automatic.

Closest we could get to the Pepsi Center/DNC Central.

Set of MSNBC. Look it's the back of Pat Buchanan's head!

We're talking Hardball!

What's a little copy right infringement between friends?

One for my Action Figure collection.

Pretty sure she's a call girl. Just sayin'.

The BIG show
The Daily Show filmed on my campus all week during the DNC. My friend T is a Jon Stewart stalker and she managed to wrangle up 8 tickets to the show. With laser like focus, and a little help from Bachelor #1, she was able to get us a spot in line that enabled us to sit in the front row during the show. Bruno was confiscating cameras and cell phones, so I didn’t take any pictures during the show. However, after the show, I managed to take a few on my stealth cam.

Waiting in line.

The poor bastards in line behind us.

Got our tickets!

There was a lot of waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. And sweating. (Man, it was fucking hot that day.) It was all worth it once we got inside for the show. There was a Q&A with “Jon” (we’re on a first name basis now) before the show. Guess who asked the first Q? No, not me. I drew a blank. (Hint: he’s my IRL stalker.)

Sample Q&A:
(Responses in parentheses)
- How many writers do you have?
(I don’t interact with the staff. They keep me in a sort of hyperbaric chamber.)
- If you could go on another show and get it canceled, which show would it be?
(Can it be a network?)
- How many houses do you own?
(One. Actually, I live in the back of one of John McCain’s houses.)

After the show. The set was smaller in person.

What did we learn about Jon? He’s as quick witted live in person as he is when scripted on his show. He’s got great timing and is charming. He’s also kind of short. (compared to me) But no matter. It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy. I’m just going to stalk him a little.

The show. Our group can be seen in the opening sweep of the audience.

Make that 4.

2008-09-12T02:13:00.002-06:00

I officially have 4 readers. Gasp! I know. Bachelor #1 wanted to see what I was up to on the interwebs (hi). It's kind of weird having someone you know in person reading your blog. Come to think of it though, I know Cameron. And I know the Queen and Snowbird. So maybe it's not so weird. Don't think that I'll behave myself just because my IRL stalker is now a reader (hi stalker! Maybe the rest of you can welcome him. Tell him about your regular meetings. Wha... those were supposed to be secret?). Oh no. This just means that I need to think of even better crap to write about. No regular crap will do anymore. We're talking high quality crap from now on.

Just to tease you, my loyal lurkers and readers, the posts I have in the hopper include:
- DNC/Daily Show update (Saturday)
- mandals mockumentary (Sunday)
- Foreign guys' guide to picking up American chicks (someday)

Good quality crap to come forthwith. Tout suit. ASAP. (Like this weekend.) What can I say, school's back in session and I've got drinking to do.

I know, I know, I know

2008-08-31T20:47:00.004-06:00

I owe you a Daily Show update, and a DNC update, and a Mandels Mockumentory. What can I say, I should be busy here editing and re-editing, shooting and re-shooting, and I really need to download the pictures from my camera and stealth cam but... my head's not really in the game.

But The Daily Show was amazing. We sat in the first row. I laughed so hard I nearly cried. The DNC was hilarious. There were protesters and fortesters, and there was a media frenzy and more SWOT police in one place since they filmed HEAT. I got to touch Chris Matthews, which was really creepy, and the Clown-pajama-Twister-cape-guy was a riot, as was the Porn Is Bipartisan crowd... which it is, if you really stop and think about it.

So I have 14507 pictures to show you and some of them involve mandels. Just hold on. I'll get my shit together.

The Dems are here!

2008-08-27T07:31:00.002-06:00

It's Day 3 of the DNC here in Denver. I'm going to go downtown tonight to see for myself the spectacle of 1000s of people, protesters, riot police, Hari Chrisnas, Japanese media, the guy dressed as a Statue of Liberty, and more lesbians in one place since the last Indigo Girls concert. I'll take pictures. Hopefully I can add to my mandals mockumentary collection while I'm at it.

Friday I'm going to the taping of The Daily Show. They're filming all week in Denver for the DNC. Specifically, they're filming in the performing arts center on my campus. Every day I get to see the trailers, the groupies/stalkers, stagehands, etc. No Jon Stewart sighting as of yet. Sadly, no cameras are allowed inside the taping, so I'll have to try to covertly take some pics with my camera phone if Bruno the security guard doesn't catch me first.

In production

2008-08-23T08:56:00.005-06:00

Last night was the big beer/art festival at J's museum. It was huge with a capital H. There were at least 1000 people and most of them were drunk by the time I showed up at 7 pm. I met up with J, her friends and parents before Bachelor #1 showed up. I tried to act like a proper hostess and keep him entertained the whole evening. So doing, I shared with him my mandals documentary that's in production. Bless his sweet snarky soul, in no time flat, he was quickly pointing out mandals for me to photograph. And boy, there was a cornucopia of mandals available last night. Mandals with jean shorts. Mandals with manpris (capri pants for men). Mandals with socks. Mandals on manly women. I couldn't take pictures fast enough. It was like shooting fish in a barrel at one point. We sat for a long time watching other people and making fun of them. As you know, this is my favorite sport. So bonus points for Bachelor #1.

So it's true, coming soon to a blog near you: a complete mandals mockumentary. I hope to have it finished by Sept 2, just in time for the summer sales at the mall. Consider it a public service.

For the gents

2008-08-21T18:55:00.003-06:00

Because I care about my male readership, I offer up this little lady.
Don't ever say that I only focus on the girly side of the aisle.

For the ladies

2008-08-21T06:57:00.004-06:00

©Sports Illustrated

I saw this cover as I was sitting in the waiting room at the vet's office yesterday. The electronic version doesn't do him justice. It's about time that SI had a male swimsuit edition... of male swimmers with their 0% body fat and lean muscles. I'd buy that one.

To quote the Queen: "Man, I need some sex."

Muppets Take Loch Ness

2008-08-17T20:42:00.011-06:00

Jules and I with Muppet Nessie

First things first, we (Jules, BFF and I) went to the Rocky Mountain Scottish Highland Games with one thing on our minds: to see men in kilts. I’m not ashamed to admit it. We were well rewarded in our quest and some views were better than others. The games featured many traditional Scottishisms like swords, kilts, bagpipes, dancing, caber tossing, haggis haggling, whisky tasting and, new this year, mandals wearing. Mandals: the universal sign that a man doesn’t want to have sex. Ever.

Exhibit A: mandals (man sandals)

Our first stop was the caber tossing competition. Did you know that there is a caber circuit? Caber tossers (which really sounds dirty if you ask me) travel the country competing in caber competitions to win..? Not sure. Maybe a year’s supply of Stick-Em? When we got tired of watching burly men toss their cabers, we wandered around the festival, taking in the sights and sounds of crass commercialism mixed with pipe bands warming up in the distance.

BFF and Jules with yet another Nessie sighting.

If it’s swords you want, it’s swords you’ll get. If you’re 18 years of age and can prove it. The little sign says so.

BFFs new boyfriend. He would not. stop. talking.

A visit to the Auld Caledonian Food Emporium brought on a few surprises. Bridies, check. Fish and chips, check. Bangers and mash, alright. Hamburger, hmm? mmmkay. But the Highlander Breakfast Burrito? It’s been a while since I stepped foot in the Highlands, but I’m fairly sure there was no mention of the breakfast burrito in Burns’ Address to a Haggis.

I went with the fish and chips, much to my disappointment. These were, by far, the worst fish and chips I’ve ever had the misfortune to put in my body. Why I was thinking they’d be good, I don’t know.

There were some bright spots to the day besides a beautiful opportunity for us to make fun of other people. If snarkiness was an Olympic sport, our team would take the bronze. My bosses daughters' both dance and they each took home ribbons for 1st place in their age group. There was some bad ass flyball action from the canine corner of the games. And the pipe offs got pretty heated. However, someone let the Irish dancers in. There was also a real Irish (as opposed to fake Irish?) comedian telling jokes. Well I think he was trying to tell jokes. Can someone tell the Irish that they have their own damn festival and to piss off?

I'll leave you with this:

Those kids sure could play. As I have no musical talent save the Triangle, and even that gets tricky, I'm always in awe of people who can play an instrument and walk at the same time.

Great Suds!

2008-08-12T18:28:00.004-06:00

As promised, here is my brief introduction to the best reason to live, ah scratch that, visit the Centennial State. (Tourists, especially Californians and Texans, please just leave your money by the door as you leave. It’s easier for everyone.)

Colorado, more specifically Denver, has self-appointed itself the “Napa Valley” of beer. See, it’s on the interwebs, it must be true! Presumably the state tourism board took one look at all of our micro-breweries, big label breweries, brew festivals, brewery restaurants, brew houses, et al, and thought they had a gold mine flowing from the taps. Rightly so. Denver ranks #1 in the nation in beer production, thanks to Coors, Anheuser-Busch and Budweiser. (We’re also #1 in contraceptive use and have the skinniest population. Coincidence?) Before you go gagging over the thought of drinking these fine American waters, there’s more. In addition to the Big Three, there are nearly 100 breweries statewide, most of them concentrated on the Front Range.

This weekend was festivalpolooza with Saturday being a trip to the Blues and Brews Festival on Old S. Pearl Street in Denver with my BFF. Sunday took us to the Ranch for the Scottish Highland Games (separate post on that one to be sure).

This festival was tiny compared with the Great American Brew Festival in October. I'd consider the Pearl Street event to be more of a warm up for the GABF.

Breweries on Saturday included, but were not limited to:
Breckenridge Brewery
Coors
Deschutes Brewery
Ft. Collins Brewery
Great Divide Brewing Co.
Left Hand Brewing Company
New Belgium Brewing Company
Oskar Blues Brewery

I enjoyed Left Hand’s Haystack Wheat and some other brewer’s hefeweizen before I called it quits. Drink tix were $5 each and I was saving my pennies for the next festival. (It was also a million degrees and humid as hell, which is odd for Denver. The people watching was, in a word, awwwwwwesome.)

Next Friday, I’m attending the Art & Ale fundraiser at my friend J’s work. It’s bottomless food and drink all for the low, low price of free (for me - $40 for others). I know people who know people. Alright, J’s taking me as her date. I may have to put out to pay her back. There are supposed to be 40 different breweries. I’ll report back, however, seeing as it's bottomless drink... don't hold me to it.

Girl fight

2008-08-05T21:46:00.001-06:00

There’s this girl that I went to high school with who I didn’t like then and I’m a petty bitch so I don’t like her now. She was a friend of a friend and I couldn’t stand her because she was naturally thin, the not trying to be thin thin, but just thin, had unbelievably great fucking skin, big blue eyes and blond hair. She was funky in a “I’m clearly much cooler than you” way, which made me hate her even more. What can I say, I had lower self-esteem at the time than I was aware of. Which is weird because I thought I was doing pretty well at that time. Just shows you. I was a bit more “puffy” than I am now, and of course, didn’t have all of her “seemingly” great qualities. (I did have big boobs and she’s flat as a sheet, so ha!) I had forgotten about her until my friend became friends with her on facebook. I imagined that time had not been kind to her. Perhaps she was huge with five kids and terrible skin. Perhaps her beautifully perfect teeth fell out and she was bald. But no. The universe is not that fair to me. I saw pictures of her now and, wouldn’t you know it, she’s just fucking gorgeous. Still. Better looking even. Bitch. All I can hope for now is that she’s a lesbian. That would make things even out a little bit. Can you give me that universe? Or just have her teeth fall out. That would be OK, too.

Oh, I’m so going to hell. Come with.

Things I'd rather be doing

2008-08-04T17:40:00.005-06:00

Hello kids! Guess what time it is? It's procrastination season! I've got one final paper to write for my crisis class and I've having a bit of my own crisis trying to write it. Not to mention my actual life crisis that is currently a-happening. There are plenty of updates on the home front, but I'm too damned tired of talking about them to write about them right now. Alas, you will have to wait until I get through my list of things I would rather be doing than writing my final paper:

1. Drinking at Jordans.
2. Drinking on my patio.
3-10. Drinking in general
11. Organizing closets (and drinking)
12. Riding my bike (sadly, no drinking involved)
13. Walking my dogs (possible drinking involved)
14. Sitting on a beach (definitely drinking involved)
15. Visiting friends in low places (absolutely drinking involved)
16. Visiting the dueling Nessie exhibits (oh, there's gunna be drinking)

Oh, you get the idea. Back to my damn paper. *whine*

10:22 pm ETA: Went to Jordans. Enjoyed a pint and some non-school conversation. Made plans to travel across the pond in <1 yr.

11:00 pm ETA: Finished paper on Reputation Management and Oligopolistic Markets. Makes me sound smart, huh? The question being why throw good money away on what the sniveling public thinks? Put it towards Phase 3: profits!

Chariots of low simmering ashes

2008-08-03T12:10:00.003-06:00

Ever since I've added a little AC/DC to my running mix on Mrs. McGillicutty (my iPod), my runs have turned into, well, runs. For the first time in my life I've been able to run 5K without 1) wheezing, 2) walking part of it, or 3) vomiting halfway through. Coincidence? Perhaps. I'm just amazed at my new found running legs. Some days when I'm running like Forest Gump, I can almost hear the Chariots of Fire theme song in my head. Of course, the chariot's wheel has a broken spoke and the horse is lame. But it's just like Chariots of Fire. If they ran a 10 minute mile.

What do you wear to a heartbreaking?

2008-08-01T08:40:00.002-06:00

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw.
Alas!

We were sitting down to dinner and I felt a strong need to make a drink. This is unusual as I've stopped drinking on school nights and, sadly, stopped drinking that much in general. I asked if he wanted a drink. I made us two wicked strong Jameson and gingers. Whiskey seemed appropriate for what I was about to do. I finished the first glass before I finished dinner and poured another. Part of me wanted to stay sober for this. I wanted to remain sharp and on guard. The rest of me wanted the warm comfort of Irish whiskey spreading through my blood, dulling the nerve endings so this wouldn't hurt as bad.

Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

We looked at each other. We talked about work, his martial arts classes, my training. Then we started talking about our therapy. His and mine. Separate from each other. I took a deep breath. I supposed that if this was an old black and white movie, I might be smoking. Since I'm not a smoker, the glass in my hand would be my only prop. I smiled to myself thinking of how it would be better if this was a movie. Someone else would write the lines for me.

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

There's never a good time for this, what I was about to do. One can never prepare herself for a heartbreak. I've been on the receiving end before, once, when I was 15 and hopelessly in love with my first boyfriend. I remember asking all the questions for which he had no answer. I remember all the sound leaving the room as he talked. I remember the numbness that took over after the reality of the situation began to set in. I know that I owe the Mr. more than what my awkward first boyfriend couldn't give me, but I understood so well, right at this moment, how he felt trying to tell me the words that would break my heart. Suddenly I felt sympathy for that boy whom I haven't seen in 18 years.

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

I told him as plainly as I could with the halting, jarring words that I knew would break his heart. I told him all the things I never had the courage to say, before now. I told him that I have been avoiding this for so long because I didn't want to hurt him. It was trite. It was unfair. It was cruel. It was the second hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

He was hurt. That couldn't be avoided. I cried more than I thought I would. Even though I don't love him anymore I would give anything to spare him this pain. To spare me the act of causing it. To spare us both from the process that is to come. Honestly, what I'm about to do scares me to death. I work part time. I go to an expensive school. I'm 34 years old and have never lived alone, never taken care of myself before. I go forward anyway because more than anything, I know that this is what I must do.

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
(T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men, 1925)

Internutty

2008-07-30T13:50:00.002-06:00

Him: are you still on the interwebs?
Me: yes
Him: huh (judging)
Me: but this is for school!

I’m taking an online class this summer on crisis management. It mostly consists of trying to find current crises and analyzing how a company/organization manages the communications around the crisis. This means I spend a lot of time on the web looking for current crises. I repeat: my homework is to troll the Internet.

It’s a stark contrast with my undergraduate days. Back then we had to go into the library and actually look things up, using books. I don’t want this to turn into a “back in my day… I walked uphill both ways naked in the snow…” type of post, but the disparity is not lost on me. Sometimes I wonder how I even managed to get a bachelor’s degree before we started httping all over ourselves. How did I research a paper before Google became a verb?

Last weekend I was doing some closet organizing (yes, this is how exciting my life is, don’t be jealous) and I found a box full of my college papers. Keeping with my OCD nature, they were all filed in separate file folders labeled with the course name and, get this, course number. (I still do this, although it’s all on my hard drive now.) I laughed as I rummaged through four years of sometimes brilliant, sometimes bullshit, papers and presentations. Reading through papers from International Violence with Schmidt (we called him 007 as he used to work for the DOD and probably killed people), Quebec Separatist movement analysis and horribly written French lit papers brought back memories from one of the best times of my life. All this done without the Internet and with a motorized typewriter!

The first time I ever saw the Internet was when I lived in Paris the summer of 1992. I was 18 and stayed with the weirdest family in France – they were weird even by French standards. They didn’t drink or go out at night. We watched a lot of MacGyver, I guess he’s huge in France. I have vivid memories of watching the Summer Olympics, but not the games I was used to. Rowing, archery and handball made the highlights. To this day I have no idea what medals USA won that year. (France had 26 I believe. They rocked at handball.) I do know how to say, “get me a paperclip, 5 kilo dog and a packet of gum so I can get us out of this mess” in French. Thank you French MacGyver. My hostess was a professor at the university. One day we were in her office and she was “talking” with a colleague in the States on her computer. She had a green screen monitor. Everything involved prompts. I used email ONCE in my sophomore year in undergrad, and it was such a huge pain in the ass that I never used it again until my first job out of college.

Last night I posted my weekly assignment on Blackboard. The online blackboard, not the chalk and erasure kind. I rarely turn in hardcopies anymore. Winter quarter one my profs insisted that all papers be done on the team wiki. And that box of papers, so lovingly stored in my closet for the past 12 years? I recycled the whole thing. File folders and all.

Maintenant, m'obtenir un trombone, un chien de 5 kilo et un paquet de gomme si je peux nous obtenir de ce désordre.

Swoon.

2008-07-29T19:16:00.007-06:00

School Boyfriend came in today for a bona fide meeting with the big wigs from campus marketing. After the meeting as we were walking out of the conference room, he stopped, put his hand on the small of my back, and looked like he was going to say something. (I nearly jumped out of my skin. While we've flirted often, there is no touchy.) Then one of the big wigs called him over and we exchanged the "oh well" look as I told him to have a good rest of the day.

The ice is thin, my friends. Very thin.

Oh! The places you can go!

2008-07-27T10:06:00.020-06:00

Colorado is divided into four areas: the Front Range, the mountains, the Western Slope and everywhere else. When most people visit Colorado, they want to visit Rocky Mountain National Park. Take in the sights, maybe see a few bighorn sheep, snap some pictures and say that they saw the "real" Colorado.

I was in the mountains yesterday for a wedding, at the YMCA camp in Tabernash to be exact. Every time I go to the mountains – winter, spring, summer or fall – I am breathless at the sight of what nature created. I understand why people want to see it for themselves. When I first moved here from cactus country 16 years ago, I could hardly believe my eyes. I still count my lucky stars every evening when I look up and see the sun setting behind the snow capped mountains.

At the wedding yesterday, while I was sitting in the freezing rain of an afternoon shower, I started thinking of all the other places that tourists never get to see.

All over this great state of mine, there are wonders to behold:

Antonito, Colorado: Cano's Castle, Beer Can Folk Art
Colorado is a relatively young state, it was founded in 1876, and as such, we don't have a lot of historical buildings except for in old mining towns. Some enterprising gent took it upon himself to build a castle. Being resourceful, he made it with recycled aluminum. Beer cans to be specific. "... a few smashed beer cans nailed to the walls, along with hubcaps and strips of aluminum."

Golden, Colorado: Buffalo Bills' Grave
William F. Cody herded cattle, worked a wagon train, mined for gold and scouted for the Army. His
skills as a buffalo hunter earned him the nickname Buffalo Bill. His Wild West shows traveled the world, allowing foreigners a chance to experience life in the American West.

At his request, he was buried on Lookout Mountain, which offers a stunning view of the Great Plains and the city of Denver. Unlike Jim Morrison's grave in Paris, this grave site has a gift shop! Don't forget to get your Buffalo Bill shot glass to impress the ladies back home.

Nederland, Colorado: the Frozen Dead Guy
We have our fair share of festivals in Colorado: the Dragon Boat Festival, the Irish Festival, the Underground Music Festival and on and on. Every March in Nederland, the town celebrates Frozen Dead Guy Days. This, by far, is my favorite festival.

Grampa Bredo is the frozen dead guy. He lives in a Tuff Shed in an aluminum box, covered in ice. He's waiting for some mad scientist to invent re-animation so he can be brought back to life. While he waits, the town of Nederland has a party every year to re-animate it's treasury.

Florence, Colorado: Supermax Prison
Ever wonder what happened to Zacharias Moussaoui, Richard Reid and Theodore Kaczynski? You can visit them at Supermax in Florence. Well, you can visit the fence surrounding the compound that houses "473 notorious terrorists, vicious murderers and violent, disruptive escape-prone inmates brought in from other federal penitentiaries." Inmates are kept in solitary confinement for 23 hours a day. The prison is underground and prisoners only view to the outside is through a 4"x4" window that looks up at the sky.

While you're there, stop by the Museum of Colorado Prisons to get your very own Alfred Packer t-shirt. Alfred was a cannibal, but a very fine cook.

Coming soon: find out why the Centennial State is called the Napa Valley of beer.

Blood Red Eyes

2008-07-25T01:30:00.002-06:00

Just got back from watching The Breakfast Club shown outdoors at Red Rocks. The Red Rocks made famous by U2 in Under a Blood Red Sky. Or more recently, Snoop Dogg and 311. There was some much needed tailgating prior to the movie including frosty bevs and hot burgers cooked by my friend T's hubby on his little Char-Grill. Why do burgers taste better when cooked on open flame in a parking lot?

I did manage to survive Day 1 of a two day planning retreat. Been up since 5:30 am (that's 20 out of 24 hours), swam 1000m and went to the day long meeting. I wasn't even sure I was going to drink tonight but as soon as I got to the tailgate party, T had a beer waiting for me. I love her.

Going back for more team building and forecasting tomorrow AM. One of my friends has promised to text me jokes all day. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Why yes, it’s a work post.

2008-07-22T17:38:00.001-06:00

Don’t get used to it.

Had a rather pleasant day at work today. It was especially nice after the “situation” yesterday: there was a problem with the quantity for a mailer. We were 531 short and I was the one who gave the wrong quantity to the printer. I ended up finding a solution that didn’t cost a lot of money and made the client happy. It all worked out in the end but I hate making mistakes like that. I owned up to it with the client and my co-workers/superiors, who were pretty impressed that I didn’t try to shift the blame. Why bother, I say? Take the hit. Nevertheless, the day went to hell taking care of that one task.

Today my boss asked me to come in early to help finish scheduling on a million projects – I told her that I’d be there as soon as I could. Tuesday is a swim day and I have to stay on my training schedule as my next tri is less than a month away. I ended up only doing 600 meters (instead of 1100) because I was running late to get to the pool, thus I was running late to get to work. Thursday is my other swim day and we have an all day off-site meeting that day. I might pass out in the meeting if I have to get up as early as I think I do to get in and out of the pool on time.

My school boyfriend came in later in the afternoon and shamelessly flirted with me. He comes in every Tuesday and Thursday with some convenient reason to talk to me. His “cover” is that he’s one of my clients. (Oh, that didn’t come out the right way. I’m the account manager for the group he represents.) At first I didn’t really get it. I’m kind of slow that way. Clueless really. I never really understand when men are flirting with me. As socially inept as I am I just think that they’re being really nice. But one day the light bulb went off and I started to get all flushed thinking about it. Now he always makes me feel rather Hello, Mrs. Robinson when he’s around. He is clearly much younger than I and is graduating in a few weeks. I’m perplexed as to why he flirts with me, as there are 4,000 other female students on campus that could fill that need. They’d be available to boot.

I finished the day by hobnobbing with the dean’s executive assistant, who has met me before but acted like it was the first time. No matter, I’ll win her over. We’ll be BFFs in no time and I’ll be in like Flynn with the new dean. I want to start asking the academic types how they got where they are and how I might get there, too. Baby’s thinking of getting a Ph.D. There is supposed to be a void of professors in the next 10-20 years and I’m thinking tenure isn’t such a dirty word after all.

Wonder if he comes with a do-it-yourself smiting kit?

2008-07-21T16:21:00.006-06:00

I. Must. Have. You.

2008-07-20T09:01:00.004-06:00

I think I’m drooling. They have a 3 3/4" heel. I'd be over 6' tall in these pretties. I might just buy these as a back to school present for myself. Yes, I know back to school isn’t until September 8. I’m a planner.

As a backup, I'd take these. If money was no object, I'd go for these.

Oh, that's hot.

2008-07-18T09:35:00.004-06:00

Woman elbowing her way to arm-wrestling history

And all this time I thought men liked women in skirts. I'm off to make an appointment with the barber, and then Target to buy a year's supply of white Hanes Beefy Ts.

Someday it'll be Saturday night

2008-07-17T22:20:00.004-06:00

This week I've been living it be like I was 32 again. Two wine events in one week. Crazy, I know.

Wine event #1: Wednesday night, wine class with T.
Wine class was held on the Metro State campus. It was heavily guarded by construction fencing, so we had to walk around the entire perimeter to get to an entrance, then walk halfway back across campus to find the Plaza building. It was about 97 degrees and my ass started sweating the second we got off the train.

When we found the building, we Robinson Carusoed our way through the South Wing to find the West Wing, which never had a sign. Finally we found our prize. It was a small classroom filled with couples. Everyone was doing the "I see you but I'm too socially awkward to talk to you" number. The men wore The Uniform. As in, the married with children uniform: pleated front chinos and a buttoned down Oxford shirt, Blackberry/Treo/Razor secured in the mansaddle attached to the belt. The women were overly tanned and clearly fake in several ways. They all saw us as a threat even though T and I are both spoken for. The only single in the room was the teacher's pet in the front row, wearing a bright pink Weekenders floor-length dress and a serious case of VPL. I wanted to take her aside and teach her the way of the Hanky Panky. Until I heard her speak. She was brown-nosing in wine class. In wine class. It's not like it's for a grade. We learn about aroma and tannins and drink semi-expensive wines. That was it. Game on.

Needless, I drank some divine French wines that I would have never picked up prior to this class. The Domain Serge Laporte, Sancerre, Sauvignon Blanc was to die for. I could drink SB until my tongue fell off. I wanted to take this wine out on a proper date. Like my patio on a Sunday evening, with a shrimp scampi and grilled romaine salad. We could whisper sweet nothings to each other as the sun set. I'd take a picture of us to remember that perfect day. It would go in my scrapbook next to the foil from the bottle and a ticket stub for the Netflix rental.

(We have wine class again next week and I'm looking forward to the sparkling wines. Mama gets a little crazy on the bubbly.)

I got home around midnight and was supposed to swim this morning. Six am rolled around a little faster than I expected and there was no way in heeeeell that I could get in a pool. So I went on a run and damn if it wasn't the best run. Ever. Ev-ah. I was in the zone. I got the high. I ran the whole route. I didn't have to do the shuffle. Or stop to vomit. It was awesome.

Wine event #2: Legal aid fundraiser with L.
This was held in this funky little building on Market Street by the ballpark. I forgot that it was a game night, so the streets were full of Rockies fans shellacked in purple. My friend's on the board of the legal aid foundation and she bribed me with a free ticket and talk of free wine. What can I say? I'm easy that way. I hadn't seen L in ages, so we spent half the time catching up and the other half lamenting that she was hatching a being soon so wine was off limits for another 6-8 weeks. L's a fantastic drinker and a partner in her law firm (they go together like peanut butter and jelly, don't they?).

I knew a lot of people there, either from networking or other boards that I'm on. There was a bunch of hot young lawyers just dripping wet from law school. I can't imagine the amount of their collective student loan debt. Not to mention the total billable hour rate in that room tonight. I'm sure it was more than I make in a year.

The wine tonight wasn't as good as last night. But it was free. Not really – there was a silent auction. I bid on a month of boot camp and I'm pretty sure I won it. I left before the evening was over. L had to leave and I got tired of making small talk. Silent auctions and free wine don't mix, my friends. Come to think of it, that's how I ended up in wine class. I bought it at another silent auction. It's a vicious cycle.

I think I've got a problem. But the first step is admitting it to yourself, right? I'm a silent auction addict. I'm sure that there's a self help group for that. Surely I could buy a free session at a silent auction.

blah, blah, blah

2008-07-16T14:41:00.003-06:00

So we're at this 4th of July party with some people I know, some people I don't know, and a few good friends. It was 156 degrees that afternoon so we were all sitting in the shade and drinking appropriate ID4 beverages: imported beer. Julie's sharing stories about the dating scene, which are comical and a little bet sad. Yet the way she tells them gets everyone else to start telling their dating horror stories. Pretty soon, we're all laughing our asses off about they guy who bought Julie a sign that says, and I CAN NOT make this stuff up: "Julie's 3rd Hole" It used to say "19th Hole" but he had them change it because, and I quote, "your favorite number is 3." And then Sara says that Julie should write a book about dating because everyone loves to hear about that stuff. Then Julie says, that's true, I love to read about other people's messed up lives.

Now the point... Normally I like to wait until I have some interesting tidbit about my life to share with the world. More often than not, my life consists of the same old pattern: don't sleep, run, work, eat, don't sleep, swim, work, eat, don't sleep, bike, work, eat, throw in an occasional bottle of wine or glass of whiskey and that's pretty much every day of the summer. I don't want to be one of those people who blathers on about matching socks so I don't post that often. And a week goes by. Then a month. Then... well, you know my history.

According to Julie, people love to read stories of other people's mess up lives. Perhaps I should retell her stories? They're good for a chuckle.

I'm my own messed up life, I did a duathlon last night and it was super fun. I got kicked in the gut in the first 250 meters of the swim, but I didn't let that get me down. I didn't even get upset when I swam 100 meters (not really) off course and ended up on the wrong side of the buoy in incoming swim traffic (true). I'm just now getting the 10 gallons of reservoir water out of my nose. I inhaled a frightening amount in the final 100+ meters. It's really hard to cough under water. Just in case you didn't know. Now you do.

I'd write about work but frankly, and I'm loath to admit this, I like my job. I like the people I work with. Most of them are great people. I could write about people outside of the department, as there are some interesting characters working in higher education, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Maybe tomorrow. We have an ALL STAFF summer picnic. Free lunch. In my case, it's a $45,000 lunch as my tuition helps pay for these staff events. But I take what I can get for the money. Plus, my work buddy left for another job. She was a good people watching color commentator. I'm left alone to be snarky with people who are much to kind to be snarking on co-workers. It's a little bit sad.

Really, my stories were much better when I worked for Big Co and filled in forms all day. Better characters. Less care level for the job. Now I give a shit about my job. Probably because I'm only there 20 hours a week and only "there" for about 4 of those hours. The rest of the time I'm in meetings. Or sending emails. Or sending emails about meetings. Or typing creative briefs about items discussed in meetings. Sometimes I have to do research on the interwebs. They really pay me to do this stuff. I know, I hit the motherload.

while we're at it...

2008-07-14T18:50:00.005-06:00

My new drugs just might kill me. They don't play well with triptans, the Miracle Drugs sent from Holy God of All Mercy that make my migraines go away. Or so the FDA says. What do they know? Bunch of scientists. I've been on anti-depressants for two weeks now and all seems to be progressing nicely. I'm a regular Disney Princess around here now. Birds are singing gaily as they land on my palm, squirrels run up to me and smile, the sun is shining (but not too bright) and a trio of mice help me dress each morning. Where have these drugs been all my life?

FDA Public Health Advisory

Oh.

Let's go through the list of symptoms*:

Restlessness. Check.
Hallucinations. How fun!
Loss of coordination. Have you met me?
Fast heart beat. Doing three sports in under two hours will do that to ya.
Rapid changes in blood pressure. Who hasn't?
Increased body temperature. Like my grandma.
Overactive reflexes. Oops. Sorry about your crotch.
Nausea. Must be Monday.
Vomiting. Must be a tri day.
Diarrhea. Oh, must have eaten at On The Border.

* Symptoms for Serotonin Syndrome. Not migraines.

The warning states that patients must "weigh the potential risk of serotonin syndrome with the expected benefit of using a triptan with an SSRI or SNRI." In marketing-speak, we call that the value equation. Or is it the value proposition? Or prepositional phrase? Never mind. It reads a little like this:

migraine relief = (risk of death by hallucinating nausea - feeling like Princess Aurora) % (bunnies + slave to the Big Pharma industry)

It's quite simple, really.

On the Thank Dog front: my new drugs are Tier 1. That's Managedcare for less than 10 bucks a month.

survived the season opener

2008-07-06T16:19:00.002-06:00

My first tri of the season came and went. Oh, the water temp? Just fine. I felt bad for the people who rented/bought wetsuits just for this. Obvs, I survived. But not without technical difficulties. The night before the race gale force winds blew the buoys off course. The race folk didn't bother to put them back on course. What was supposed to be 800 meters turned into anyone's guess. (Mine: 900m) My arms didn't want to cooperate during the swim. I could feel the lactic acid building in my forearms not even halfway in. This forced me to use too much leg to complete the swim.

Then my bike. Lo! My darling, wonderful bike, A'mie, had some gear issues. I had taken her for a gear tune up the Thursday before the race. My bad for not riding her between tune up and race day. Mid-gears were malfunctioning. Kinda a problem. So my quads were none too pleased with me.

The run portion went really well, actually. One of my best times. I had three friends waiting for me at the finish line, which was really sweet. They got up early on a Saturday to watch my race when they really didn't have to. Sounds corny, but I'm blessed to have friends like that. They made up for the bad beer choice at the finish line. Who serves a dark lager in 90 degree heat?

All in all, I might do it again next year. I already signed up for a few more tris this summer. I'm also trying a "dip & dash" in a few weeks. Just an easy 750m swim and a 5k run. Sounds like a lovely way to spend a Tuesday night. Yes, I'm a little insane. But that's the fun part.

brrrrr

2008-06-20T11:23:00.002-06:00

My first tri of the season is tomorrow and it promises to be brisk in the morning. The race people sent out a notice that the water is supposed to be in the low 60s. They suggest a wetsuit. I say, pish-posh, I'm tough. I can handle some cold water. (Hopefully) If you read about a woman who got hypothermia in the res, that could be me. To test my toughness, I filled the bathtub with 60 degree water and sat in it for 10 minutes. It's cold. But not that cold. I only plan on spending 20 minutes in the water anyway. All of it swimming my little arms off.

I'd much rather be nervous about the swim that worry about changing a tire mid-race. I can change a tire, but you know, I'd really rather not have to change one while on the bike leg. Oh, Dogs of the Universe and Bike Gods, please protect my tires from goat heads and errant glass shards. Amen.

I just need to survive the swim. Then all will be fine. All will be OK. Repeat. All will be OK.

Alright, off to run errands and get my hair done. Nothing like getting highlights the night before a tri to put you at ease.

Time and money

2008-06-18T22:23:00.002-06:00

Funny how no matter how much time you have, you always seem to fill it up. Same with money. I always seem to find a way to spend it. No matter how much I have or don't have.

Summer is here (officially on Saturday) and I'm preparing my list of summer projects. These are the things/shit I needed to do all year, but didn't, because of school/work/life/etc. In no particular order:

- bike like a freak
- figure out this running thing
- three tris (or more?)
- job hunt
- clean closets (ooooohh)
- clean monster garage
- throw away crap
- donate more usable crap
- climb a 14er
- campin'
- lounge on the deck
- drink in the lounger on the deck
- bbq and drink on the deck
- write
- connect with my inner artiste
- fix some of the rough parts
- sleep sometime... or not

Here's to summer! Bless it's sweet sweaty hottiness, long days, cool nights and beautiful sunsets.

will work for hooch

2008-06-10T16:42:00.002-06:00

Summer is traditionally a slow time at the Creative HQ but this summer promises to be even slower (thank Pete!). I'll only be working 20 hours a week (for money) plus a few freelance projects that are looming. A few weeks ago I made a decision that may shock you: I'm taking down the shingle (temporarily) and looking for a, ahem, real job. It's a matter of my mental health. I don't want to work full time again. But I need to. I've discovered that I really felt good about my self-worth when I could contribute to the household-worth. This became apparent when I started working part-time. It feels good to be paid on a regular basis. Right now it's a relief to go somewhere and do something and leave it all behind when I go home. I know that it will get old and someday I'll be complaining about crappy office politics and commuting woes, but I feel that it's important for me to do this. It's important for me to feel more in control of my life. Oh, I know the poet Gnarls would laugh at me for saying it, as one never really has control over anything. Having a little control, even if it's an illusion, beats feeling powerless any day.

Universe, I'm looking for a marcom manager position with a sustainable company in the Denver metro area that has tuition reimbursement. And I ain't gunna drive to BFE or BFW or BFN. Got it?

It's time for a few small repairs she said*

2008-06-09T22:14:00.002-06:00

It's a funny feeling, being a "writer" who can't write. My whole life I've turned to writing as a way to share my thoughts and feelings, especially when I was unable to verbalize those thoughts and feelings. But here I am, desperately needing to write something. Yet the words don't come. I've visited my blog almost daily for the past few weeks. I always have random thoughts screaming in my brain. Usually these thoughts pop in when I'm far from a computer or held hostage at work, where it's easier to not think about anything at all. When I sit down to write, words fail me. Or my brain fails my words. Words are tangled up in the goop and grime that coats my brain.

Perhaps it's because at b-school my left brain is busy taking over. We're talking about ROI, IMC, CSR and the like all the time. Could it be that my poor brain is overloaded with business-speak? How does that account for the lack of sleep? The lowered motivation? The intermittent appetite? We all know the cause. There are too many of us inside this dome. We're all talking at once but the one with the loudest voice is the one who tells me to stop being so... so... perfect. As a result, I've stopped putting forth as much effort with some things and that includes sleep, food, work, friends and family. When I write it all down it sounds like a lot. Truth is, I spend a lot of time thinking, or rather, not thinking, but feeling. I spend a fair amount of time training for my tri on June 21. So much so that my legs really hate me today. (Tomorrow is a swim day so they will be happy. Let the arms do the work.) Most of the time, I just spend the time trying to do the next thing that has to get done instead of thinking about all the things that will eventually need to be done. One day at a time. One foot in front of the other. It's all I've got in me right now.

But this summer I think I will work more on me. Perhaps there's where the exhaustion lies? I've been working on me for the past six months. While going to grad school. While working part time. While working on a complicated relationship. While being everything to everyone. It's exhausting. Exhaustingly so. I'm not taking summer classes. Oh, there's the interterm class that is all online. It started today and I'll write a 15 page paper on crises management/communications by August 8. It's a breeze compared to the three-team-meeting-and-paper-a-week- figure-out-the-strategy-objectives-and-don't-hurt- Wendy's-feelings-while-your-at-it workload that I've been doing since September. Don't get me wrong, I luv grad school. It's sooooo fun. In "I'm a geek" kind of a way. But I'm still taking the summer off to work on my body/soul/mind improvement project. It's time for more than a few small repairs. We're talking a complete overhaul.

* from Sunny Came Home by Shawn Colvin

late comers: form one line please

2008-05-18T21:19:00.002-06:00

I know that everyone "cool" (and by cool I mean people who owned iPods before, say, 2008, frequent dance clubs with strobe lights and overpriced beer, who wear labels of clothing that I can't pronounce or involve some kind of surfing/skating/skiing/riding motif and who probably stay up way past my bedtime) has probably been rockin' out to Fall Out Boy for a few years, nay, a few decades, but I've just now gotten in line. Yes, I realize that cool people do not use the phrase "rockin' out" but we've previously established that I am not cool. (The jury is out on whether I've evah been in that crowd. Cameron/Lynn - don't answer that. I've got dirt on you too.)

Anywho (again, cool people don't say that), I enjoy them. Him? It? I frequently jam (not cool) to "It ain't a scene, it's god damn arms race" whilst running. It's got a good beat for running. Especially halfway through a 5K when some of use need that extra boost.

The Boy also helps when one is up late night (post 9:00 pm) writing papers. Papers that will not die. Die marketing paper. Die.

"I am an arms dealer.
Fitting you with weapons in the form of words
And don't really care, which font I use*
As long as the I get an A on my marketing plan*
That's just the business I'm in."

*my personal touch. It's getting past my bedtime.

paranoia: 1, daphne: 0

2008-05-18T20:19:00.002-06:00

For the first time in my blogging bloggerhood I deleted my prior post. If you missed it, you missed some ranting and raving about not trusting people, namely the Mr. There could have been an f-bomb. I got it out of my system. Nothing to see here. Move along.

However, I do have some issues with trust. That is not made up. I have boundary issues. Mostly having too many boundaries, too many walls. I probably should be on medication for depression right about now, but I'm not. It's not that I have anything against meds. Some of my finest moments in life would not have been possible if not for the modern pharma machine. I just don't have tiiiiiiime to get all experimental with my brain chemicals. I've got to be high performance for the next two weeks. Just until my final presentation is over and done with. Then I have a three day interterm class (TBD, still may drop it 'cus of the moolah). After that, just work and triathlon training. Heaven.

Maybe then, when my head is clear, I can deal with this gorilla that's been living in my living room the past few years.

happy birthday to me

2008-05-12T16:41:00.002-06:00

Guess how Daphne's spending her birthday?

A. Crying
B. Working on a paper that's due tomorrow.
C. Both A and B.

If you chose C, you are correct. Things are a bit like h-e-double hockey sticks around the HQ these days. I've been writing in my super secret Wonder Woman diary a lot lately, the one with the little lock and key. This, of course, leaves less time for blogging. I'd feel obligated to fix that but my motivation is on the fritz.

No one said happy birthday to me at work today. I didn't mind. There comes a point when kindness is overwhelming to my senses. Let me focus on work lest the water starts flowing again. Actually, I think they think that it's tomorrow since they have a lunch planned for me. Bah.

At least I get to go to a wine tasting tonight. Happy wine tasting birthday.

Got to get back to option B. That paper ain't gunna write itself.

lots of words

2008-04-20T21:26:00.002-06:00

In the past few weeks, I've had different people tell me that I'm closed off, closely guarded, private. I never really thought of myself that way. I usually feel like I walk around with a giant neon sign above my head, flashing my problems to world. Lately, the feeling has been compounded. My emotions are raw. My nerves are frayed. I'm not in control. Of anything.

I was at therapy a few weeks ago and as I was talking about me, my shit, and what I'm doing about said shit, my therapist says to me, "have you ever thought about writing a book?". Eh. Sure. Lots of times. Trouble is, I can't really think of anything that would be interesting enough to write about, much less something that would compete on shelf space at the local bookstore to sell any copies. She went on to say that I seem very expressive and that writing about my process of de-shitting might be of help to other people who are going through similar shit. Okay. I suppose. Thing is, I'm not 100% ready to go public with said shit. But it got me thinking. Maybe a fictional account of someone named Daphne might do. Maybe that might help me get to it. Maybe I should give it a try.

Would anyone really be interested in reading about my walk into hell and back?

I really, really hate you Blogger.

2008-04-02T18:12:00.002-06:00

You have sucked my will to blog out of me. Your new, and nary improved, 'layout' templates are crap. They are user friendly for anyone who has no desire to do something other that stroke your blogging ego. Your commenting feature stinks. You don't play nice with code from Haloscan. You make it difficult for me to drink wine and wax philosophically on my blog. Did you know that it's really hard to open a bottle of wine whilst holding a chocolate frosting-covered graham cracker AND figure out why Blogger hates America at the same time? Well it is. No thanks to you. What is a girl who wants a semi-custom blog to do?

Feh.

3.91

2008-03-22T10:30:00.002-06:00

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I bombed my final in marketing and walked out of the class with an A-.Yes, it's a good grade. Yes, I did my best with limited time to study for two finals on the same day. Yes, I'm actually at peace with my C grade on my final. But now I have to live with something less than a 4.0 gpa. I thought grad school was my time to pull that one out. Now, no matter how many As I earn, I'll never graduate with a 4.0. It sounds so silly to complain about. It's totally my OCD showing. (News flash, I'm not just self-diagnosed OCD anymore. A licensed, trained professional has said it is so. Ha!) I know that my need for perfection is a mask to hide all the shit going on beneath the surface. But it still doesn't make me want it even less – person can't just turn off the switch after 20 years of high performance. I guess that I just didn't want it bad enough finals week when I had too much work, too many projects, too many papers, too many finals, and too much crap floating around in my head. All at the same time. I feel better now just for writing it out. But it still smarts.

hey look, she's not dead!

2008-03-17T18:01:00.003-06:00

Nope. Not dead. Just exhausted. In addition to working at Creative HQ, working PT at the college, working on school, I am also working on me. Specifically working on all the quirky things that make me, me, but also make me somewhat OCD and, well, wacko. Yes, that's the professional term. (Some of my long time readers - if there are any left out there - are thinking, 'what, she's crazy? I never knew.) Yes, it's true. Like most creative people in history- Van Gogh, Warhol, Cezanne, Goya, and David Lee Roth, I too suffer from some mental health issues. It really is mentally and physically exhausting. Pardon me for not wanting to share too much right now. I'd rather do what I do best: make a joke and ignore the problem. Maybe someday I shall share will you all. Maybe someday I shall share with my journal. Baby steps.

Changing topics... I'm also working on my summer/fall triathlon schedule. Thought I'd forgotten about them, eh? Ohhh no, I'm prying my ass away from the computer chair, putting away my 500 page marketing research textbook, and starting my spring training. My winter maintenance training was waylaid by an upset knee. Seems that when you lug a 50 lb backpack across four miles of campus in adorable but uncomfortable high heels, bad things happen to your back, your knees, and sadly, your shoes. Waaa. But on the bright side, I got to shop for new shoes! Yay me.

Guess who bought a brand new road bike? Go on, guess. OK, I'll tell you. It was me! Seems that March is the season for bike sales, the new ones are coming in and they must sell, sell, sell, the "old" ones. I bought a 2008 Specialized Allez (French for Go!) for pennies on the dollar. Daaaaamn, it's fast. I'm going for a professional fitting on Thursday. After that I'll have no excuse not to ride it. Except when it's raining. Or snowing. Or windy.

Lately I've been inspired to re-learn or re-activate the part of my brain that knows French. I found out that I can use the Rosetta Stone software for free through my college library. Maybe it's the new bike (Allez). Maybe it's the French-language ads we're working on at my PT job. Whatever the reason, it's kind of fun but at the same time, insane. Like I don't have enough to do already!

Anywho, I've got a date with my DVR. It seems that it's been watching all my favorite programs for the past 10 weeks. Funny how we share the same tastes.

A bientot!

Saint Obama of the Lacrosse Field

2008-02-01T19:17:00.001-07:00

It's kind of hard to tell by the teeny camera phone shots, but the man in the front of the crowd is Ba-Rock Star Obama. I got to wait in line for three hours on Wednesday to see him speak at an event I like to call "Obamarama." He came to the campus where I work stumping for the state caucus on Tuesday, February 5. To his right (left from our view) is Caroline Kennedy. Wowsers. Anywho, the Obama campaign "pre-registered" 20,000 people for a 12,000 seat arena (9000) and overflow arena (3000). About 30,000 people showed up. The official count was around 18K, but those of us at the event could tell that there were far, far, far more than that. They had to open the lacrosse field for him to come out and address the crowd before his official speech. The line on the south side of building stretched around the block and down the street, around some houses and along a main road for about a half mile. It was only when we got to the front of the building did we realize that there was a similar line on the north side of the building.

Funny thing, Bill C came later at 9 p.m. and because of the snow storm, only 4300 people were in the 9ooo capacity arena.

I plan to caucus on Tuesday because it's the first time that I've lived in Colorado (15 years) that voting in a caucus or primary has meant anything. Usually it's been decided by this point. Colorado used to have a primary, in May. It was useless.

Of special note, 12,000 people voted in the last caucus. More people showed up for Obama than all the people to vote in the last caucus. That's a pretty powerful statement. You can watch the podcast of his speech here. It's in three parts so go here for the other parts.

If you live in a state where there are caucuses are held on Tuesday, no matter your political persuasion, go participate. It matters.

working on it

2008-01-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

Legs hurt from standing up for self.
Shoulders tired from carrying it all.
Lungs burn from winter cold.
Lump in throat grows bigger.
Topics hit too close to home.
Feeling alone in a crowded room.
Wanting to be anywhere but here.

it's a struggle to juggle

2008-01-11T09:47:00.000-07:00

I've tried to write this entry for the past two weeks. It's been a struggle. Just getting out of bed at 6:15 after writing a paper until 12:30 am because I was at work - then class - all day, is trying. Top it off with the mental and emotional crap I've been swimming through and it's surprising that I can function at all. Every minute, every hour, every day, I feel like I'm wading through jello. Going to my part time job helps. Being in class helps. Running or swimming helps. Anything that I can do to keep my mind off the issue at hand. The issue that we've just started dealing with. The issue that I can't even tell my family about. I can't really talk about it with many of my friends. I don't want to talk about it with the Mr. But that's the problem. We are the problem. We had our first counseling appointment last night. We have two more scheduled for the next two weeks. I don't really know how I feel about it. I'd rather not feel about it at all, actually. Truthfully. Honestly. There's so much to fix. I wonder how much of it can be fixed. I wonder how much of it I want to fix. I don't have any answers today.

what I did on my xmas vaca

2007-12-31T13:57:00.000-07:00

1. Renovated the bathroom. Yes. We are that crazy.
2. Skied.
3. Stayed up way past our bedtime.
4. Watched all the movies we've been wanting to see for the past 3 months.
5. Shoveled snow.
6. Shoveled snow.
7. Shoveled snow.
8. Picked up Kate at a hotel by DIA because she was stranded by the crazy weather.
9. Talked about very important things. (to be discussed later)
10. Threw together a NYE party at the last minute... must go to prepare for that now!

Happy New Year friends. May all your resolutions be easy, attainable and guilt-free. :)

here's your m-f holiday spirit

2007-12-04T19:41:00.000-07:00

I gave in and dragged the tree out thinking it might get me into the holiday spirit. Our living room is about 10x12 and has a 1) couch, 2) bar (hello, of course), 3) official dog chair, 4) two dog crates, 5) coffee table, and 6) an ottoman. I figured a 7' tall fake Festivus tree made of recycled petrochemical products would fit perfectly. Nothing else will fit now, and anyone who comes over has to shuffle into the house past the yard sale in the living room, but we've got a damn tree. It's one of those "pre-lit" trees that all you allegedly have to do is assemble and plug in. What they don't say is that it is filled with 1,004,318 tiny plastic clips, also known as "choking hazard," that randomly fall off whilst fluffing (not dirty) the branches (still not dirty). It took me an hour to fluff the tree (git yo mind outta the gutter) and all the while I'd hear tiny 'click', 'click', 'click' as another clip hit the floor. I'm not sure what they are made for except to mimic a real pine needles.

In addition to the falling choking hazard, there was an entire section of lights that wasn't working. Despite being a candidate for a master of science, I have little or no scientific ability, especially anything that has to do with electrical engineering. My ingenious method entailed fidgeting with the darkened bulbs whilst cursing. It seemed to work because the lights work again. Yay me!

I did all this by myself. The Mr. was at work and had yet to contact me at 6:30 p.m. to explain if he was in a) a car accident, b) jail, c) tethered to his desk, or 4) never coming back. I had just found out that I didn't win a much needed scholarship and was tired, cranky and needed to finish 4 projects for my actual "work" before I could go to bed so I could be at work at 8 a.m. the next day for my new part time job.

So a I was a wee bit pissy when he got home. Especially when he wanted me to drop what I was doing to make dinner. This happens a lot. When he's home, he's all "not at work" so he wants attention. It's very hard for him to understand that I am actually working. However, he will do his share of guilt tripping when it's time to pay bills and I want to buy a new pair of jeans (or a suit or whatever). I've lost about 15 lbs in the past year and none of my clothes fit any longer. It's getting harder and harder to maintain a "professional" appearance when I have to hoist my pants up mid-presentation. But I don't need the guilt trip. The sighing. The rolling of eyes. The slouching shoulders. I don't need it. I don't want it when he won't take my working after 5:00 p.m. seriously. Or when I work on, gasp!, Saturday or Sunday when there's not a football game. Of course. I could host a strippers convention in the living room during the Broncos game and he would yell at us to be quiet so he could hear the commentators.

As you know, I've self-diagnosed myself at OCD and bi-polar. It's much more fun that way. Recently I've self-diagnosed myself as mildly depressed. Maybe it's the time of year. Maybe it's the strain of doing it all in a business. Maybe it's the realization that I've failed by having to take a part time job. Maybe it's the realization that I'm relieved that I did get the part time job so I can start earning regular pay again. Maybe it's knowing that the way to be happy might just hurt someone else. Maybe I need to man up and deal with all this shit that's going on in my world.

That's as far as my holiday spirit goes. I've got a naked pre-lit fake tree in my living room. It's a wonderful analogy for everything else going on right now. Half done. Undone. Unsaid. Unhappy.

waiting

2007-11-29T17:22:00.000-07:00

Waiting for my prof to post final grades. For those of you reading along, we finished finals last Monday. Before turkey day. The deadline to submit grades is 10 pm tonight. I called the registrar b/c my teammates were calling me wondering what happens if they aren't submitted by the deadline. "Nothing" was the reply. Our grades just post later. But I want an Oompa Loompa now daddy. Tell me what my grades are, now!

I have an A so far in both classes (same prof) but the team paper is worth 40% of our grade in one class and 25% of the grade in the other. My worst-case-scenario spreadsheet (yes, I am that big of a geek) tells me that my team can get an 85 on the paper and I'll still get my A's. Laugh all you want – my teammates did when I told them about the spreadsheet – but being a geek comes in handy sometimes. At least I'll know what to expect when my Oompa Loompa arrives. I earned one 95 and three 100s on my personal papers so I'm pretty confident in the writing. (I wrote the paper.) It's the content that makes me edgy. In a nutshell it lacked the well, substance, and say, direction, that most papers I write usually contain. It was more like this blog. Long on rambling and short on substance.

Must concentrate on work now. Grades and Oompa Loompa's will have to wait.

finalist!

2007-11-28T15:12:00.001-07:00

Just back from lunch downtown at The Brown Palace. I'm a finalist for a scholarship and the committee members wanted to meet the finalists before making a decision on the winner. There are three finalists. I think I can take one of them. She's a second year (meaning she graduates in June) and comes from money, if my rich-dar is working correctly. The other one is tricky. He's heavily involved with the organization already. He knew many of them before we got there. I knew the chairman and kinda sorta knew a few other gents. He's interested in an area of business that this org focuses on, so (IMO) he's my real competition.

They're announcing the winner next week. At lunch. After I start my PT job. So now I have to be one of those employees that starts a job and runs off to take a 3 hour lunch the second day. Good timing. What can I say? No? Yeah, sure. I'm not coming to the lunch that you will most likely announce me as the scholarship winner. (oh please oh please oh please oh please)

Gaaa, I hate this part of working for someone else. I emailed my new boss to let her know the scoop. Hopefully it won't be a problem to take a long lunch or just work another day for those hours. She said they were flexible. Let's just see how much so.

too much

2007-11-27T11:56:00.000-07:00

Too much going on but not enough to keep me motivated. When did I lose my motivation? Where did it go? It's enough to think that there are wee motivation gnomes sneaking about, lurking, waiting to snatch my oompf. Don't want to bother finishing two design projects that bore me to tears. Don't want to bother cleaning the house (OCD me, I know!). Can't bother to put up the holiday decor or any kind of tree. Don't want to bother cleaning out my closets filled with crap that has multiplied like gremlins in the dark. Don't want to bother putting some shit up on craigslist to get it out of here and earn some cash. Don't want to bother calling Goodwill to pick up the room full of shit in the spare bedroom. Too much hassle. Too much work.

I broke down and applied for a part time job. And I got it. I'll work 20 hours a week on campus. It's convenient and I can walk to class after work. I need something to maintain a steady income for those months when the projects slow down but my bills don't. To tell the truth, I need something to make me feel like a real person again. Being a self-employed married to a real-employed makes one feel, well, less. Less sure. Less independent. Less confident. Less useful. When I had real employment, I could spend money willy-nilly. Want new shoes? Buy 'em. Lunch with my friends? No problem. Ski passes? Check. Plane tix home for no reason? Sure.

Is this a woman thing? Are women more likely to feel less like a contributor and more like a dependent when we are self-employed? Really, now, it has nothing to do with self-employment. Being self-employed has only magnified the truth. Over the past eight years, I've given up all control or interest in our household finances. I told myself that I wasn't good at it, so I should let the Mr. handle things. But really, I was just lazy. And now I can't write a check without asking where the checkbook lives. This scares me.

Julie (one of my team members from class) thinks I'm this strong, confident, take no shit, have no fear, bad ass. How disappointed she would be if she learned the truth. How disappointed the world must be to know the truth: I'm really just a girl who struggles to get out of bed, rages against her insecurities and fears being found out.

Feeling small and scared today. I just want to opt out and let things go on the way they have been going on. But I know that I can't keep going on like this. Must find that motivation I've lost. Must make the changes happen. Dog knows that no one else will.

peas and quiet

2007-11-21T13:21:00.000-07:00

School's over for the quarter and I have a blessed six weeks before I must return to syllabi, team projects and irregular eating habits. Lo! But I agreed to compete in a school ethics case competition, which means no break from the team projects. Our ethics case is quite interesting... something about AIDS drugs and pharma profiteering. Yum.

Of course, I have actual work to do, you know the stuff that people pay me to do. The stuff that helps me pay my mortgage and wine bills. It snowed this morning, a clear sign that the Universe does not want me to work today. As I awoke to the quiet stillness of a fresh blanket of beautiful frozen moisture, I realized that I'd rather do Thanksgiving prep than work. It seems as if my work motivation is already on holiday. Every time I sit down to work on a project, I start to get droopy. So I take a nap. A few hours later, I try again. More droopiness. More naps. I keep telling myself that I have an excuse: I had a root canal yesterday, and prior to that I was hopped up on Vicodin (sp?). I have a good reason, right?

But I must carry on. Little children in India are learning the design programs that I use for work. One day they will take my job from me and only ask for $2 a day. This makes me think that I'm in the wrong business. (Actually, every time I pay the dog acupuncturist, I think I am in the wrong business.) I think I'm thinking about making a potential career change. (Or just running away from home.) In the past six months, I started realizing that I'm not 100% in love with what I do. Some days I'm not even reaching the 50% threshold of enjoyability. Then a funny thing happened. I took this class in school and we started talking about sustainability and corporate responsibility. From there I started reading about environmental damage and global warming, deforestation, chemical spills, plastic toxins, and so on. It really can mess with your head if you start thinking about it too much. That led me to the a-ha realization that as a graphic designer, I design materials that (get ready) people. throw. away. Ta-da! I make things that go from my computer, to a printer, to a mailbox, to a trashcan, to a landfill where it will sit for eternity or until space aliens discover our dumps and think they found a time capsule. Oh sure, some people hold onto this shite or recycle it, but for the most part, they toss it.

Then Paul Dolan came to speak in our class. Paul's at Mendocino Wine Company now, but he took Fetzer wines 100% organic when he was CEO. He spoke about organic wine growing, sustainability and lessening the footprint we leave behind. He also said that only 13% of Americans drink wine. This is a sad, sad little number. I am proud to call myself a member of that 13%. So I thought to myself, self, how can I be in the wine business? I love wine. I love organics. I love drinking wine. More importantly, I love thinking that I could make a difference in the world. Paul believes that if we can convert viticulture to organic and make money in the process, it will convert agriculture to organic, which will change the world. Most agriculture (and viticulture) is fertilized with petrochemical-based products. The pesticides and herbicides are toxic. We are pouring poisons into the earth without concern for the consequences. But what if we could increase the number of wine drinkers in this country to 15%? And a third of them drank organic wines? What would that look like? Wouldn't it be fun to try?

What if it wasn't wine? What if it was another sustainable product like biodegradable or compostable plastics. Or recycled products? Or renewable energies? Why can't I do something good for the planet and make money at the same time? Why am I limiting myself to an either/or situation?

My husband, of course, is alarmed. We staked our lives on my business. I quit my job and we've been living some lean years while we increased brand awareness and earned more business. I've got some projects coming up that could really put this company on the map. Maybe the way to go is to convert our company to a sustainable company. I could only use recycled paper. Print with soy-based inks. Do more electronic documents. I don't know if that is enough. I don't even know if that would satisfy me.

Oh, dog. What do I want to be when I grow up? I think I'll wait until I get through graduate school before I figure that out.

Zinsser would be insulted

2007-11-19T08:20:00.000-07:00

William Zinsser wrote 'On Writing Well,' a little used book from my undergrad days. It's often been helpful for answering hard grammar and stylistic questions, but for the most part, it lives on my bookshelf collecting dust. Zinsser preaches word economy. Don't sugar coat it. Get it out. Be direct. Less is more.

This weekend I pulled it out again to use on a team paper. The paper was a cluster, as all team projects are, because the person who needed to get his part to me to edit waiting until Friday at 6 pm to send it. I offered to edit the entire paper, give it one voice and to correct any imperfections that needed correcting. Everyone else got me their sections on Tuesday. I had their parts mostly finished and was waiting on this past piece. What I got was, well, unexpected.

Let me first say that I know that I'm not the best writer in the world. I spell words wrong, I miss typos, I have dangling participles. But for the love of all that is holy, I am a great writer compared to some. This weekend I met that someone and his style of writing was crap.

Direct quote: "Some of the homes within a mile or two of Coors Field, a for profit business investment that has brought may benefits, working parents but no lock on the front door."

What. Is. That? It's not a sentence. It's not even a complete thought. Coors Field is a building. The Colorado Rockies are a business. (Not to mention, Coors Field was paid for by tax dollars.)

But this is just the beginning. After spending - not kidding - seven hours editing the five pages of poorly written, run on sentences, non-sequiturs and incomplete thoughts, with 10, count 'em, 10 different references to authors, I finally had something that I wasn't embarrassed to show in public. I cut the authors down to six. I deleted 90 percent of his writing and rewrote the lead and the end paragraph. I kept some random things that I thought he would want in there just to let him have some dignity.

His response? There are too many references to authors. It seemed like a name dropping competition. Mmkay? And I took out his "baby" of a topic, Coors Field, which he still referred to as a for profit business. And shouldn't we talk more about Denver in the readings instead of just showing we did the readings? I'm sorry, what was the name of the section again? Oh yes, "Impact of the Readings."

Oh, and don't forget that he is the only one who knows what the professor wants and clearly I just don't understand. This is the part where I bite my lip. I must refrain from telling him that I do understand what the professor wants or I wouldn't have received 100% on my papers when he only got 85%. I found out later that another team member had already told him what I got on my papers. Yet still he thinks he knows better.

It's no wonder that I dropped the gloves when he wrote the conclusion. These are not sentences, I said. You can't introduce new facts in a conclusion. You can't ask a question in a conclusion. You are concluding the paper, not starting a new section. No, you don't need a whole page for a conclusion. A paragraph will wrap it up. Conclude it. Or as Zinsser would say: Less is more. Cut out half and you're on the right track.

on self confidence

2007-11-09T09:20:00.000-07:00

“In my experience, each of us has the potential for a renaissance, an age defined by a creative, purposeful and engaged life. It doesn’t matter whether the creative work we choose is painting, dance, fiction, poetry or music. What matters is pursuing it mindfully. How do we get from beginning some new activity to a personal renaissance? Learning what things stand in the way of our comfortably engaging in some leisure activity, and how to break down those roadblocks as we experience them provides the practice we need to deal with our more familiar stresses and fears. Once examined through this new lens, many of our “problems” fall by the roadside. We can, it turns out, pursue art for art’s sake and art for life’s sake, and it matters little what that art is. Any creative activity can have a powerful effect on our lives if we pursue it mindfully and recognize the ways in which old familiar fears and habits can be set aside to make room for the personal renaissance we seek.”

Ellen J. Langer, On Becoming An Artist.

I'm sure I'm not the only creative person in the world who feels guilty for pursuing my creative side. Note to self: get over it. Be creative. Be authentic. Be original. When I hide my light it only smothers me. Am I worried about making others feel insecure and small themselves? Maybe. But it's not my responsibility to lift up the entire world. I can only work on improving myself. Last night at happy hour, I tried talking to a woman who might be on my new team for this school competition. (the competition is like of like a Geek Off with other business schools and there's a prize for the winning team) It was like pulling teeth to get a conversation going. It was one of those one-sided conversations where I kept asking questions because she would only give one word answers and never ask me a question. Finally she said that maybe she shouldn't be on the team because she's not as competitive as I want her to be. Where did this come from? Before last night all I knew about her was that she was in my class and she laughs loudly. I responded that I was just trying to make conversation and get to know her. (Sorority conversation lesson #1: When you only have one or two things in common with someone, you pick one of the two talk about and try to build on that.) Am I too bold, too excited, too competitive? Maybe. But maybe, she is the one who is timid and scared. Do the timid sit around and wonder if their mousy non-actions have offended other people? Probably not. So why do I worry if trying to talk with someone with low self-esteem was somehow insensitive? Now I'm thinking of removing myself from the team because I don't want to 1) be the problem on a team, and 2) be on a team with someone who can't carry on a basic conversation. Both would prove to be painful and waste of my time. I don't want to hide my creativity, my passion and my enthusiasm just because one person can't handle self-confidence in others. The joke is that we are all insecure in some way. I just get past it by working on something as best I can. I have little patience for those who hide behind their insecurities and won't contribute because they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. Everyone has to contribute on a team. That's the point. We all have to play the game.

avoidance

2007-11-04T20:15:00.000-07:00

I've avoided posting for over a month. Not because I have nothing to say, but most of it revolves around dog poop, tech support, school, work, husband, food, recycling. Yawn.

Now you get a post from me because I'm avoiding my paper, which is due tomorrow. It is only 1-2 pages. No biggie. It's a "writing for change" letter regarding some matter we are passionate about to someone who can theoretically do something about said matter. Yawn.

I'm also avoiding panic by writing this post. I want to panic because Sir Rockafeller turned 11 years old this Halloween and, well... you'd be a little stiff in the hind legs at 77, wouldn't you? Today's been a bad day, he's been miserable, his hind legs aren't working for him. This means no jumping, running, playing or general doggerness. Yelp.

Please don't panic. Please don't panic. I will call the vet first thing in the morning and they will give him miraculous drugs that will make his hind quarters feel like new again. A few days in the crate for a nap and he'll be fine. He'll be fine. He'll be fine. He has to be fine. I don't have it in me for anything else.

But my paper, lo! It is a fine piece of crap that I am writing this evening. I'm writing to the CEO of a quick-casual restaurant asking them to avoid plastics in their serving of dine-in and take-out foods. Plastics make their way into the waste stream and sometimes real streams. Once in the waste stream, they live in a landfill for the next 1,200,000 million years (give or take a billion). If they get into a real stream, they end up in the ocean, where the waves grind them down into tiny little pieces, much like sand on a beach. But this is a beach made up of grains of PS, PP, HDPE and other non-biodegradable plastics. (Don't forget the sun tan lotion and a cocktail with one of those festive little umbrellas.) I just did a whole book report on Alen Weisman's The World Without Us and learned these scary little facts. Be afraid. Be very afraid. But read the book because it will change the way you look at grocery shopping, driving a car and eating anything that could have come in contact with the air, soil or water.

No more avoiding, I need to complete this masterpiece of shite and finish reading 237 pages for class tomorrow night. Yawn.

balls out is tiring

2007-09-27T15:55:00.000-06:00

My BUS 4615 had its Bear Grylls adventure this weekend and keeping with the theme of "leading on the edge" they encouraged us to go "balls out" all weekend. What is that you say? An esteemed ivy tower of academia would not use the term balls out? Well I was there and you weren't, so let's just say they did and I won't have to cut you. K? See, I decided to go balls out which involved mostly running through the woods with a compass in my hand screaming 'I can't read this thing!' Wandering around lost, hanging off a wire 50' in the air, doing duck and roll exercises, all the while operating on 4.7 hours of sleep, then rappelling off a mountain side into a faux arsenic disaster perpetrated by a mining company. (key point, faux, no arsenic was harmed in the making of my Bear Grylls weekend)

Then we had to "process" our "feelings" and talk about which "energies" we were "pushing" the most during the exercises. At which point I was told that I'm 1) very organized (duh.) and 2) too emotional (ehh?) as a leader. The funny thing is that I'm not even all that concerned about the "emotional" label b/c it came from two of the most non-emotional, empathy-vacant, men on my team. (Love you much, boys!) I'm upset that the only descriptors people could muster about my leadership abilities was "organized." What. The. H-E-Double Hockey Sticks? Gee if Ms. Organization was leading the war in Iraq, we'd be home by now. Wait... actually, sure, why not. Hokay, but what if you are trying to round up the courage to take that hill and secure the fort? Not to worry, your organized leader will inspire you with her tales of color coded tab folders. Don't you feel ready to die for your country? 'See, you use the label making machine to put the proper labels on the jars so you know which sized bullets are in each one... this prevents you from mixing them up.'

Could I be inspiring, supportive, ethical, diligent, engaging or even maybe, outgoing? But organized? Is that all I'm known for? If you're ever looking for a CEO who can collate, I'm yer woman.

In a word, I'm pooped. I think I'm coming down with something or I'm just bored. Maybe both. All I know is I'm tired and my 2:30 nap didn't make me feel better. Perhaps I need a 4:30 nap to round out my day. And some wine. Yes, yes, wine will make it all better.

Here's some evidence of me going balls out:

oh pooh.

2007-09-19T14:56:00.000-06:00

Someone wants Lexi. I'm crying because she's going away and we can't keep her. Sure, we could, but we know that it wouldn't make sense financially. And that's just not fair for her. But gosh, I wish we had a million dollars so we could. They want to get her on a weekend so they can have time to get acquainted before going to work Monday. I'm going out of town tomorrow through Sunday and I'm not sure it's such a good idea to send her off while I'm gone, too. So we have one more week with her before they take her to her new home. I've sure grown attached to that little pumpkin. My little Lexi Loo Hoo, Alexis Montgomery Alistair Stewart DePew, Lexi Bear, Stinky, Mrs. Tinkles, Sweetpea and Turd 2 1/2. I know that they will take care of her, but will they clean her ass like we've been doing the past two weeks since her surgery? Will they be calm and gentle when she has an accident in the house? Will they keep her fit and not overfeed her? We know as fosters going into this that it's a temporary deal. We know it but we don't feel it in our hearts. I'm not so sure that I'm strong enough to be a foster anymore. It breaks your heart to let them go.

The Tin (wo)Man

2007-09-14T13:58:00.000-06:00

* cross posted with my "Executive Log" as part of my BUS 4610 class. We have to keep a journal through our process and turn it in at the end of the quarter. I thought I would save some braincells and post it here, too, as it is part of my journey.

I’m faced with both excitement and trepidation as I start my first week back at school in 11 years. There’s a scene in the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy comes upon the Tin Man rusted up. He whines something to her. She realizes that nearby sits a can of oil and starts to apply oil to his mouth so he can talk. As she continues, the Tin Man comes to life. I feel like my brain is that Tin Man, desperately trying to get through the content that is being thrust at us.

Like the Tin Man I am frustrated and overwhelmed by my own inability to connect the dots in my brain with the outside world. I knew that grad school would be a challenge. It’s not the challenge that scares me; it’s the anxiety I feel. I’ve always been that student in class, the one who is prepared and turn things in on time. (I've enjoyed and been good at school since 6th grade when the light switch turned on.) But I have this feeling that there is something I’m missing, there’s a part or piece of information that I haven’t come across. For years after high school I continue to have anxiety dreams. They are the ones where I’m late for class and don’t know the room number. Or the classic can’t find my locker or remember my locker combination. I know that they reflect a deeper sense of anxiety about my life and really have nothing to do with school.

The strange thing is that I really love beginnings. I’m kind of strange that way. When reading a book or watching a movie, the beginning, or story set up is much more interesting to me than the climax or conclusion. New things excite me. This is the point where I am torn. This new beginning, this grand change and short-term sacrifice that I’ve made for myself is an incredibly exciting and exhilarating new adventure for me. It feels like a roller coaster, and I’m sitting in the front with my hands in the air. My stomach jumps into my throat at each change in pitch. This class is that change. I just didn’t expect it. I don’t know why. The topic is incredibly interesting and compelling to me. I know that I’ll grow through the readings, teamwork and interaction with everyone from the professors to my fellow students.

At the same time, I feel that I’m not prepared for the self-evaluation and reflection that we have to do. I’ve always had this deep held fear that I’m not good enough to be my authentic self. But I know that I don’t help anyone by living small and scared. I hope to learn how to let go of those fears during this journey. My first step involves a can of oil for those rusted out academic joints and a lot of confidence.

I prefer the term 'break up,' thank you.

2007-09-11T12:39:00.000-06:00

I did it. I broke up with them. It was hard because they would never call me back. So I did it by email. One step up from a Post-It note.

Today I got this email from my one time boss:

"Wow. If it wasn't bad enough that you "quit us," Jane* from the -deleted- department is going to take over for you. I think a lot of Jane but this isn't up her alley any way, shape or form."

*Jane ain't her name, by the by.

When my BFF got divorced, it wasn't because he was cheating on her, beating her, abusing her, nor was it that she was doing the same. It was because he was ignoring her. Taking her for granted.

A year after they divorced, she's lost 25-30 pounds and has gained new confidence. (I must say, she is HOTT and I'd totally do her.) He's still living in the same house and gaining weight every day. She's been dating and learning new skills, meeting new people and trying new things. He remarked to her recently that he really was an asshole and should have treated her better.

You think?

It's not scientific, but I'd be willing to bet that most relationships end because the people drift apart, or take each other for granted, or just don't pay attention to them. It's no different in business. Well, not for me. I need to know that what I'm doing matters to someone. I need someone to return phone calls and emails in some amount of reasonable time. (not never)

So, yeah, I broke up with them for lack of attention. I broke up with them because I think they were abusing my time and trust. I broke up with them for a lot of reasons. But the truth is, I don't regret it. Not one bit. Not at all.

losing things

2007-08-27T09:32:00.000-06:00

Yesterday marked one year since Samantha when to play with the Big Dog. Most days I just remember her fondly and laugh. On some days, like yesterday, the memory of it all comes crashing back. It's harder still when something happens to remind me of how much we love our pets and how it hurts so much when they are gone.

When I lost my princess, it felt like someone had drilled a hole through my heart while I was sleeping. Every day when I woke up I could feel the wind whistling through the vast, open, space.

Time is both forgiving and cruel. A year on and my heart is nearly filled back in. A year later and we have a new, very energetic beagle in our home, annoying and delighting our little old man to no end. A year ago I had my hard drive replaced. The things I thought that were so important to back up turned out to be the least important of all. Project files, old emails, and other crap fill up two years worth of CDs marked "Lucy B/U disk 1 of 2 _date_".

This weekend, I spent hours scanning old back ups trying to find a video we took of Samantha and Rocky howling together. While Rocky and Paddi are great friends, they just don't do the things that Samantha and Rocky did together. They're so much alike but so different. No more tug of war, no more howling in unison, no more napping in the same bed. All I want is to find that video. But time has played havoc on my memory and I can't remember which back up might contain that moment when Rocky and Samantha were at their beagle best.

ETA: Found it. It was in a restored file hiding from me. Whew! For your viewing pleasure:

anxiety

2007-08-20T11:29:00.000-06:00

My tummy's all upset today. I'm trying to fire my client that I've been trying to fire for 18 months. Things are just right to fire them now. But I can't get them on the phone to tell them. Funny, eh?

All will be well once I just do it. I had this same feeling the night before my first triathlon. It went away as soon as I started swimming. I just need to get going off the starting line.

I take that back, I'm a genius.

2007-08-14T16:25:00.000-06:00

I posted an ad on CL yesterday for a Virtual Assistant. So far I've received 148 responses... 127 of them could not follow instructions. Translation: they were crap. Several people sent me just a resume. No cover letter. No note in the body of the email. One "person" sent me a resume for someone else. I couldn't tell if he/she was using a friend's email, because It didn't write anything in the email. How do these people ever get hired anywhere?

This is the ad:
Small marketing communications company seeking a virtual assistant to help me maintain my sanity and stop chasing my tail. I need someone who is professional, confidential, understands sarcasm, appreciates snark, is tech savvy, and can help me understand what tasks to give away, brainstorm ideas, help with marketing or business dealings, make calls, and other fun tricks.

Instructions: If interested please contact me with your experience, website (if any), VA rates, and when you're available to chat.

Contract position.
Part-time position.
Telecommute OK.
Don't call this person... yada, yada...

I left the experience part open because I'm not actually interested in plowing through 183 resumes. I'd rather get a recap of their VA-ness and then move forward. Yes, it was vague. But I'm not the first and I ain't gunna be the last to test someone's ability to write an email for a job. And really, is that so much to ask? Write me something. Make me interested in you.

This part I added today, after the 123rd response:
ETA: This is a contract only position for someone who currently operates or is starting a VA business. The person would be paid as a 1099 independent contractor. If you don't know what 1099 means, or if you are looking for a W2 position, move along, nothing to see here... We'll get along just fine if you are able to follow instructions as indicated above.

Actually the first time I edited it, I was pissed that so many people thought that they were the "perfect" candidate and sent me their resume with no note/cover letter/thought. So this is what it originally said:

ETA: This is a contract only position for someone who currently is or is starting a VA business. The person would be paid as a 1099 independent contractor. If you don't know what 1099 means, then don't bother applying. If you can't follow the instructions above, you're not the one for me.

As you can see, my "nicer" albeit snarky half came back from her lunch break and I re-edited it to be less bitchy. Not by much though.

Anyone who has read this blog for any amount of time knows that I like to judge people. It's fun and makes me feel superior. And smart. Really smart. Today is one of those days.

I'm doing this so I don't have to work.

2007-08-13T13:45:00.000-06:00

OK, I'll admit it. I'm avoiding something right now. The last week or so, work, aka, my friggin' own M to the F company, has been making my head want to explode. Sometimes I feel so damn stupid. There are things I want to do but my limited brain power keeps me from doing them. That's when my head starts hurting. You know that place in the top of your head that starts to ache when you think too hard? (ok, maybe YOU don't, but you don't have to rub it in) Yeah, well, it's on overdrive. And the panic-y feeling in my throat? It's there, too. Plus the wad of uncertainty in my chest and tummy. It all goes away when I go running or swimming or drinking. But really now, we can't drink/run/swim all day. (really?) Well, not anymore. I'm suffering from task overload. And idea overload. And clingy client overload. And I-wanna-fire-a-bad-client overload. Hopefully I'll get around to the last one today or tomorrow.

And I still need a web designer. Anyone know one?

Oh, I also need a Virtual Assistant. Are you out there?

If so, send me an email at ssommers AT muchado DOT biz.

drive by tri recap

2007-08-07T22:05:00.000-06:00

1. I met and was photographed with Nichole DeBoom (aka little tits) from SkirtSports. That's me (aka big tits) with her on Saturday. This. Was. Awesome! She is amazing and has so much energy. I have a girl crush on her.

2. On the day of the tri, I woke at 4:38 am with a migraine.
3. But somehow managed to beat my time from last year by 7 mins, 48 secs.

4. Those of you still paying attention, this means I finished in 2 hours, 1 minute, 9 seconds

4a. That's me (ˆ) flying by my official Team Daphne Photographer on the way to the finish. (note to Team Daphne: we need official t-shirts)

5. The only thing that kept me going at the end was the thought of the beer tent. Hey, I had a migraine, not dead.

loopy

2007-08-04T10:20:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow's another triathlon for me. Can you believe it's been a year since Heather and I did our first? Back then we were terrified of the unknown. Today I'm excited to get started. I want to seep in the moments, taking in all of the activity and energy that goes with the journey.

I'll go pick up my packet in a few minutes. Hopefully I'll get to meet the one and only Nichole DeBoom, creator of SkirtSports, marathoner, Ironwoman and all around kick ass cool woman. She's speaking at, oh crap! 11 am, at the race expo. It's 10:30 now. Move it! Hut! Hut! Hut!

I'm not sure why we take so much stock in what others think of us or say about us, but it is interesting how a kind word or a happy person can change our day. I'm starting to understand the how from the pre-coursework for my master's program. One of the readings is about how we interact with others. In it, it talks about how our brains are essentially an "open-loop" system. Open-loop versus the closed-loop system of our, say, circulatory system. In an open loop, our brains take in information, process it and tell us what to do or say in response. Our on-board computer reacts to everything. So says the reading, this explains why we react to others so powerfully. We are hardwired to respond in some way. They've done studies to show that people will sync with each other when they are around each other long enough. It also explains why sometimes you just don't like someone. They are out of sync with your little neurons in your brain.

Where was I going with this? Oh yes, a kind word or nice gesture. Wow, so I met these fine folks recently. She is a national speaker that teaches self-defense to women. He is her adorable husband. We had lunch yesterday and we all had wonderful things to say about each other. But they gave me such good feedback from a recent speaking engagement.

Last month I spoke at a seminar on brand management and using the tactics of Apple, Target, Starbucks, and others to grow your business. I researched and researched, practiced on the dogs, and dressed in my biggest Big Girl Suit for the presentation. I had a OK PowerPoint created from scratch. I had some one-liners to throw in for laughs. I was ready. But nervous.

See, I always feel like that little kid playing pretend. Like someone acting the part, but really not "real." So when Erin and Peter said I was great, and knew what I was talking about, well, I got that little rush of excitement/panic. These people, who know stuff, who have been around the marketing block, said I was the shit. (in a good the shit way, of course)

But they said that when they looked at my website, it didn't seem like "me" at all. That my website focuses on graphic design and marketing too much and not enough on the branding and communications stuff that (their words) I really am. All the way home from lunch my mind was racing. I kept thinking of what I could do, what I could change on my website to make it more, well, like me! But here's the kicker... I know very little about how to make a great website. I'm a print designer. That's what I'm good at. CMYK, lines per inch, bleeds, these are things I can handle. Not so much in the flash department.

I need a web person on my staff. My little intern is great, but she's not really "there." I need a really awesome web person for this and other projects. But instead of being overwhelmed by this, I'm excited to find him/her.

But that's for later. Right now I'm off to meet Nichole DeBoom. Yeee!

Too much.

2007-07-30T09:56:00.000-06:00

My mom called me last night for our Sunday night chat. Anyone who knows my mom knows that she is the most positive, outgoing person around. But last night, and for the past week or three, she's been down. She's going through some stuff right now that's draining her spirit and I can't do very much to help her. My parents, mostly my mom, own some pre-school centers in Tucson. She's operated them for 37 or 40 years. Mom knows pretty much everyone in Tucson or has educated half their children. She's trying to retire from that but the stress and unknown is getting to her. It seems everything happens at once because the health department paid her a visit and fined her for all sorts of ticky-tack violations. Mom's convinced that she's a "criminal" now. I tried explaining that it wasn't personal. I tried listening. I tried offering suggestions. But she just needed to be down. To mope. To moan and whine and be miserable.

It was too much for me.

I'm the type of person that wants to help others. I guess I get that from my mom, too. But last night, well, I wavered between wanting to hang up and start spilling forth my list o' crap I'm dealing with. But instead I just listened. Painfully, I listened to her story. All the while so many issues played out inside my head. Right now I have a list of shit I'm dealing with and no one to talk about it with. It's the kind of shit that I can't, no, don't want to, talk about with the Mr., or my mom, or a therapist. I just don't know who. It's the kind of shit that you don't want to say out loud. Once you say it, it's out there, hanging in the air, over our heads. You can't unsay stuff like that.

It's all just too much right now. It will pass. It always does. I would just like to know when.

My cheatin' heart.

2007-07-23T07:38:00.000-06:00

I have something I have to tell you. Boy, this is harder than I thought. See the thing is... well... I've been... cheating... on... you. Don't take it personally. I didn't mean to hurt you.

Since I was accepted to grad school I thought I should do what all the other kids were doing (peer pressure, you know) and sign up on facebook. One thing led to another, and, well, now they've sucked me in. In case you're wondering, that's where I've been lately.

Through my new junk habit, I've connected with friends of mine across the country and even tracked down two girls (women) that I went to high school with. To date, the only high school friends I've ever cared about keeping in touch with are Cameron and Lynn. Then I found Shana and Natalie. OMG. They're like real grown ups now. When did this happen?

But the real news, the news that trumps all the crap that's going on in my life, is that

BEAR GRYLLS IS MY FRIEND ON FACEBOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!

Holymotherofchristmascookiesfrostedincrackcocaine!

(If you don't know who Bear Grylls is then we really can't be friends anymore. Google him.)

I'm now one step closer to my dream of being lost in the Scottish Highlands with Bear and nothing but a flint, a water bottle and a knife for our survival. Yes, yes, he already did a Highlands episode. We can go back. It's a big (ok, big-ish) country with lots of things to do.

Oh, and I was sent to collections for a hospital bill I never knew about b/c the company billed the wrong address and insurance company for two years and never bothered to call me to find out if they had the wrong information. But none of that matters because

BEAR GRYLLS IS MY FRIEND ON FACEBOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!

whole lotta nuthin' going on

2007-07-11T10:20:00.000-06:00

Hate to break it to you, but my life is pretty boring. Especially right now. Maybe I've grown to expect more, maybe I'm just tired. Whatever the ailment, not much seems to be going on and at the same time, I'm really busy. I've got a few presentations and seminars I'm giving, board meetings to attend, and some pre-coursework for grad school to read. Took the hounds to the vet (yes again, what a surprise!). Rocky, aka Old Man River, has arthritis. Lexi has a UTI. Yay! Money grows on trees, right?

What else, lemme see... I love my intern. She's adorable and full of spunk. Heather came from Kansas to visit us for dinner. Long drive for dinner, eh?

We want to hire a sales person. Someone to do all the "salesy" things I hate doing. I'm open to a virtual person. I'm open to Rocky doing it but he has a terrible phone voice.

I just read The Dip by Seth Godin. It's a hella easy read that took me less than an hour. I'm pondering his words right now. The Dip is about quitting or sticking it out. I'm thinking of doing both. There are a lot of things in my life that I'd love to quit. Most of them are demands on my time/mind/money/life/sanity. I'm making a list.

More later.