Filed under: resolutions
Super sweet doctor asked me to write one complimentary thing about myself every day.
I’m struggling with this.
But I pass my wall calendar every day with the big green numbers logging the minutes spent on the treadmill and I think… that? Is success. And determination. And consistency. (And an eight pound loss in one month, baby!)
So instead of daily compliments, I’m challenging myself on weekly resolutions. Something to stick to for a seven day period each week.
…I may need a bigger calendar…
As of today, Friday, I will not write anything negative – here, by e-mail, or private journal – no matter how bad my day is. I’ll dig for and find the good in everything that happens and the complaints will subside. I’m sure they’ll rattle about furiously but therein lies the challenge.
-CJ
Friday night saw me bounding out of the office and into the passenger seat of my car. Ree drove us the hour and a half er so out to Ocean Beach to meet up with some out of town friends I see maybe 2-3 times annually. The plan was to see Doug Stanhope at a little club but the universe had other ideas in mind.
The camera is totally drunk.
The air was perfect for my peacoat reunion, as we stayed just off the ocean at a little hotel with a kickass courtyard between us and the sand.
Those vases in the distance, over the stairs? At one point I was among them, hanging out and wondering what in the hell possessed me to climb up there when the trip down looked so much scarier.
Our friends, Kevin & Megan, arrived later than intended due to Friday evening traffuck and accidents and the like. They were still in good spirits and this was reason to toast and laugh our asses off for a bit at a little Irish pub with live music. The Stanhope show had started while they were on the freeway and probably ended around our third pint glass.
Next door was a-fucking-mazing pizza, a live bagpipe/drum group, and a funny shirt:
After dinner and some late night courtyard shenanigans involving us performing as caged animals to startled onlookers (don’t ask) at the hotel, there was beach walking, revisiting the Irish pub and then a quiet dumpy dive nearby that kicked us out at closing time.
On Saturday morning Kevin brought a damn good latte up to our room and I inquired as to whether or not I could pull off a ‘fancy hat’ (or what some people know as a newsboy cap) that I saw Shannyn Sossamon wearing on TV. The panel declared that I probably could though I don’t think they cared much.
Off to a beach front café, under the shade of an umbrella, in the perfect weather with mimosas by the plastic bucket.
It was very happy.
Tell me the bucket idea isn’t cute. YOU CAN’T.
Lazy wandering led to easily scoring several Christmas presents for assorted frenz & fam AND? I got a fancy hat. Which I wore for two days straight and took one super corny picture in. I think I love having a plaid clad dome.
One rooftop cantina + margarita pitcher later and we had to say our goodbyes and get back to hometown for a quick nap, a long shower and a birthday gathering. Ree and I met with Kristine and Robert to celebrate Kristine’s first annual 29th birthday at an amazing deli/bar. There were sandwiches and frosty drinks. It was love.
Later at a huge karaoke bar, I got fed the fuck up with women and the men that love them. Lesson learned: without clothing that appears to be painted on, abundant cleavage, and a high pitched laugh, you don’t deserve service or manners in general. It was a damn shame I left my cat suit at home and remembered to wear a shirt.
And then I met two very cute, very sweet, very funny girls in the bathroom and the faith in much of my douche-tastic generation started to restore.
Overall the weekend did nothing for my lingering, nagging cold but it did wonders for my overwhelmed mind, as good times with friends tend to do.
-CJ
Last night at the Mayan theater, I went through the ‘under 21′ entrance for lack of ID and onto the floor in a flurry of anticipation that was masked by my watering eyes, consecutive yawns, and frequent sniffles.
I’m sick.
I never get sick – let’s just make that clear now. This is a fluke and it will pass shortly. Any minute now.
*coughing fit*
*pops eighth cough drop*
Onward.
Sadly, a fanboy of even this degree
was stuck at home so I took the opportunity to use his ticket for my little brother, who at 6′+ is actually quite large.
An opening band took the stage, to my surprise, because I live under a rock and had no idea the Rx Bandits were playing. Before last night I didn’t know what they looked like but I knew the voice was familiar. The second song they played was Get which was even more familiar. I poked the kid to my right and confirmed who it was up there, charming me into a dancing mood. “THEY’RE DOPE!” quoth he. Singing and jumping ensued.
AND THEN
SUDDENLY
FINALLY
the room was exploding with the sound of Glassjaw’s new song (You Think You’re) John Fucking Lennon* and I was so silly fangirl happy that I forgot I was sick, forgot I was tired, forgot I was sore, and into the swirling, pulsing, pumping pit, I went.
*The linked video isn’t mine but it’s pretty damn good and also? Justin Beck, there on the left, playing guitar? The boy is so geedee good looking it should be illegal and he gets me near completion halfway through any song. F’real. Watch him. omygah.
The only disappointing part was Hotel of the White Locust which can be and has been done better. If that song lacks conviction, it is nothing. “Who could ever/WHO THE FUCK COULD EVER/take the place of me?”
My ability to find the freeway after the show was less than stellar and on through crack central we cruised, out of place and slightly frightened. There was a minute there, on a very dark, small street, flanked by twitchy, jumpy scary folk that I almost went into panic mode. I shouldn’t. I’ve absorbed a lot of material recently on why and how the place is how it is and I shouldn’t be scared. I shouldn’t be hyper-aware of my privileged car ownership and skin color and door locks but I was and sometimes I am and for this I’m either a little ignorant bitch or totally human.
Just to even things out, I got pulled over on the way home. Not too long ago I was bragging to my dad how I hadn’t been pulled over in more than five years. Last Friday I got a speeding ticket. I told a co-worker that morning that now I’ve gotten three tickets and been let go twice. “The next time I get stopped, I gotta be let go to even this out.” Sho nuff, officer checked brother and my ID, decided brother and sister pairs couldn’t possibly be up to trouble and sent us on our way without the usual post ten p.m. have you been drinking tonight interrogation. I thank you sir’d, dropped my bro at home, and crashed into my bed around 1:30 with a certain eager and energetic puppy.
And I STILL worked out this morning before work, proving to myself that I am superhuman, obviously.
-CJ
PS, text from my brother this morning: thanks again for last night. it was epic fun, you son of a bitch.
BAHAHA
It was the worst week ever, by my own melodramatic standards.
I thought Friday might be okay. Then I got a speeding ticket. And my friend has cancer, I learned, but I’d see him that night and be convinced there was no stronger man, ever, right?
I left the benefit party in such hysterics, I couldn’t see the road ahead of me.
It was one thing after another, tumbling violently downhill, gaining in size and strength. A giant ball of suck. I stopped trying on Friday night and crawled into bed next to Kiddo around ten.
I worked out extra long and hard on Saturday. I was productive around the house and then I got a nap in. Figuring I’d claim the day with at least a soft grip, I took Kiddo to the zoo. There was a reason admission only cost a couple bucks. After four billionty types of monkeys and something resembling a llama, we hightailed it out. She enjoyed it though. Cuz six-year-olds have low standards.
There was a baby hedgehog that left me with the urgent need to have a spiky little house pet named Simon.
And Sunday involved a park picnic, which is hard to top as far as relaxing goes and the weather was chilled to perfection.
And then I got a free vacuum.
And today, there was a milkshake.
-CJ
Filed under: kiddo
But then I added, “If your job description ever includes celebrity gossip you have to live in the basement.”
-CJ
Because I’m reading more than I’m writing and sharing is caring. (Kids, keep to a barrier method.)
Why have referendums on basic rights?
No, really?
“The United States is not a pure democracy, and our government was set up as a constitutional republic with checks and balances and an independent judiciary for this exact reason: So that the majority cannot do harm to the minority at will.”
Dave Holmes’ tweet, regarding (I believe) the loss of the same-sex marriage right in Maine: “My favorite part of the Bible is when Jesus says “Majority rules, fagballs.”
Also from Dave Holmes, this time by way of his blog: “I’m not ready to say that a majority of Americans is fueled by bigotry; I think most are simply defending their family from an imaginary attack. (And that attack has been cooked up by a small group of people who are fueled by bigotry. [Or sexual immaturity- anyone with a 4th-grader’s understanding of human nature knows that Matt Barber and Fred Phelps are homosexuals. There is no getting around it. Guys, I am so, so sorry you can’t stop thinking about cocks.])”
This morning Kiddo asked, “Mom, ‘member when we used to steal those signs? We should take more.” Am I a bad parent for condoning the removal of the bigot propaganda in our ‘hood? Or a good parent for teaching my kid acceptance and standing for nothing less?
Obama lifts the law that prohibits HIV+ foreigners from traveling into the US. “If we want to be a global leader in combating H.I.V./AIDS, we need to act like it.”
Crimes motivated by sexual identity or orientation are now finally considered hate crimes. Say what you will. Obama is making serious change is this country and I’m applauding a lot of it. (According to wiki: The Act is the first federal law to extend legal protections to transgender persons.)
-CJ
