Hey, you know nobody's chasing us

I have a new favorite song on repeat. (The neighbors must love me.) It's by The Long Winters, who I discovered from one of my CMJ compilation disks - and it's called "New Girl". Initially, I loved the chorus - "Be kind to the new girl" - but then I found another line in the song that I may make my own personal mantra. "Twice you burned your life’s work Once to start a new life And once just to start a fire"

Today's entry title comes from another great song "The Sound of Coming Down". It's so wistful and hopeful all at the same time it could almost make me cry. It speaks to this frantic need to define myself, and figure out how I'm getting ready for the rest of my life - and really, I need to remember that no one's chasing me. The only one making me go faster is me. So maybe I can step back, and say this horrible job is not suited for me and I need to start over again. There could still be time to do what I love - which will have to involve education in some way.

Oh wait. That's why I was supposed to find a nice financially stable guy to help support me while I do that. And that - is not going so well. But shop that around to any charming available men you know - "You'd love my friend Kathy - she's supportive, and loyal, and smart, and funny, and gets along well with others (mostly) - and all she requires is financial backing." Oh, that must be the phone now!

Unpretty

As one of the more dreadful phases of my job is nearing an end, I came to the very unflattering realization that I will MISS the martyrdom the long hours and aggravating work have afforded me. Now, I'll just be in a mediocre job with semi-reasonable hours. And a rather crap salary, since the overtime won't be as steady. I may never be happy in a job. It's either the hours, the salary, the tasks, the people... there's just something about WORK that makes it such a... well, chore. Blech.

I'm still riding the crush roller coaster, too. I'm aggravated with myself for not taking more direct action, and aggravated with him for making me think I have to take action here. I don't know why I'm scared of just being direct with him, and not knowing why doesn't make me any less frightened. I don't believe in "soulmates", and I'm not thinking that if he slips away I'll never have another chance at happiness - but I DO see one POSSIBLE route to happiness getting away before I even had a chance to try it out. And while there may not be one unique soulmate out there waiting for me, there does seem to be a very limited subset of men I could live happily ever after with. Or even happily for the time being.

I've had "Fix You" by Coldplay on a repeat loop since I turned my computer on. The super-extended remix. Soundtrack for the melancholic.

Tech- NO, and a confession digression

I went to a tech women's networking event tonight, b/c several friends of mine are involved with the group and their party offered (delicious) appetizers and (free) drink tix. I was glad I went, and had fun, but felt a bit like an impostor. Since I don't work in tech myself, and actively avoid many techie things. My friend P.S.B. said that wasn't entirely true, b/c I blog. So a woman we were talking to asked me questions about the blogging experience and interface - I answered with SOME degree of competence. I said my blog wavers between observational and confessional, but is mostly a place for me to post news of my life for friends I don't see every day.

I started thinking about the confessional aspect, and realized I don't do that very well, actually. I feel free to confess my angst over my professional life, but I am MUCH less likely to divulge angst over my love life. Like details about my longstanding crush. Chances are, the work rants are much more likely to cause future strife or embarrassment - but I still have a hard time openly discussing romantic hopes or failures. Is it because I'm too OLD to have crushes anyway? Or fear I nurse them too long? We're all familiar with He's Just Not That Into You, and maybe I just need to really buy into this. But it's hard when it seems like there IS real potential, and I don't know why our friendly relationship doesn't appear to be going anywhere. I want tips, and advice, and I also don't think there's any to be had. I want someone to intervene on my behalf, and there's no one to do it. I want a new distraction, but I hate leaving this one unfinished.

OK, another serious digression. The Kraft Crumbles commercial to EMF's "Unbelievable" is so unsettling it's kinda gross. It could be that "crumble" and "cheese" are not a savory fit, or the disturbing nature of a cool song being used in such a ridiculously commercial manner.

She FLIES through the air with the greatest of ease...

She just cannot get the bar under her knees...

I had class today. TRAPEZE class. My friend C.S. from work decided this would be her birthday activity this year, so she gathered a group of friends together for a lesson at Trapeze Arts. When I was a kid, I LOVED my jungle gym and always liked the little metal U-bar trapeze. But as a grownup - I found I couldn't get my damn legs up and around to get it under my knees. I did manage to do it on the second try on the stationary bar, but couldn't get it in the air. So I was instructed on using "hawk-style", which - was also not a sure bet. But I DID get it a couple of times.

The scariest part? Was the freakin' ladder. Climbing the little shaky ladder to get to the platform made me nervous. Then, when you're on the platform, reaching out for the bar is really hard because it was just out of reach. The instructor holds your safety lines so you won't just topple off the platform, and I kept asking, "You've got me, right? RIGHT?" Then, letting go and swinging through the air? Is just fun. Releasing the bar and tumbling into the net is ALSO FUN. But getting ONTO the bar, was still a bitch. I was worried I'd never pull it together, and would miss the catch and release part. My last time up, I had my best takeoff ever, and when the instructor on the ground said "legs up" - I got a toehold and clawed my way on! Yay! Then he yelled, "Look at your knees!" and I did, for one full swing. The next direction is "Let go of the bar", and I did, keeping my hands in a "W" so I could grab onto the catcher. My back was arched, my arms outstretched, and I was worried my catcher wasn't there because I couldn't see him - and then? There he was! (He looks like Hank Azaria, which was comforting in a strange way.) He grabbed my wrists, I released the bar from my knees, and WHOOPED! He smiled and said "Good job, Kathy!", and then "Have a seat" as he released me. Oh, it was fun. Everyone in our group made the catch, and I think we would all do it again. I want to do it again RIGHT NOW, so I can figure out the knee thing once and for all.

Wearin' o' the green

I was actually free to leave work at 5:30 yesterday. WEIRD! I finally figured out why text messaging is cool, too - b/c you can send the same message to many friends and find someone to hang out with. Oddly enough, I ran into my friend PSB at the CLC tonight and he has a theory that no one over 35 texts anyone. So I have made the cut-off.

The evening got off to a slow start - the line to meet my friend LL at Irish Bank was WAY too long. Especially to stand in by myself. See, without the booze, still self-conscious. Too kill time until I could meet up with anyone - I went shopping. And had a sandwich. And sat in a Starbucks.

When R.K. was free, I went up to meet her at the 101. While I was waiting, I had a shandy and sat on a couch watching basketball next to a guy who made no eye contact whatsoever. I was losing steam, but felt I should rally and at least try to be entertained. Worked out pretty well. R.K. and I went to Blur because they have MINI BURGERS. Rebecca knows the guy who works the door - he'd just come off a shoot for a reality show about single women dating in San Francisco. Despite the fact that he was cast as "Mr. Wrong", he was still delighted that he was going to be on the show. Before his TV career took off, he took classes to deal blackjack and poker. I said, "So let's play!" and he said, "I'll see if we have cards!" They did, and he and R.K. and I played blackjack and poker while watching the Jackass DVD. I love bar activities.

2 dirty martinis later (one with gin, one with vodka) we wandered down to Edinburgh Castle for 2 pints and a round of darts. We eventually had to turn over the darts when it became clear neither of us was going to get a clean bullseye to finish the round. R.K. definitely had me in the beginning, but we'd caught up after uh... many rounds of no bullseyes for both of us.

We stopped by Blur again on our way home, and I did a shot of fernet. Which is apparently popular in bar circles at the moment. Tastes like a Ricola cough drop.

Walked home, and it was a pretty gorgeous night. Slept well - but then. Morning. Oy. Do you know what I forgot? The hangover part. Clearly, the combination of alcohol was not conducive to a serene and peaceful morning. Perhaps this is why I wore a lot of orange today - as an antidote to all the green.

Demographics

Yesterday, I went for a walk to see old friends, like the Lyon Steps, Palace of Fine Arts, Crissy Field, and the Golden Gate Bridge. I even ran part of the way, but found that I am not in prime running condition. It was a beautiful day, and it felt really good to be outside DURING the day, enjoying the scenery which made me move to this city in the first place.

It just got better from there, too - my friend R.K. joined me to go see my co-worker's marimba recital. I kept beginning sentences with "The last marimba recital I went to...", which provided me endless amusement. My friend asked if there would be a portion where the player went all Gallagher on us and pulled out a watermelon. In any case, it was beautiful music and it looks - well, kind of impossible to play. Very cool.

Afterwards, we hit a Mexican place for margaritas then went to the Elbo Room for video games. A guy who just got out of "jail" (we think he was just in police custody for a few hours) bought us a round of drinks for blocking our view of the video game while he was trying to read his release paperwork. I found I still have my Frogger skills, and still don't really have the hang of Pac-Man. A cute boy went to the bar to get more quarters for us, but left with his friends soon after. I'd been telling R.K. earlier that I thought my life would make a terrible sitcom, but she assured me any life could be a great sitcom if you just pulled out the best parts. I mentioned this to my quarter-fetching friend, and he asked who my viewing audience would be - I said probably intellectuals. I asked him the same, and he said people into consciousness raising and new age-y stuff - I said, "OH. You mean public access."

I like this theory, though. I'm going to start framing my sitcom moments and figuring out my target demographic.

Because when I STOP banging my head it'll feel good?

From an e-mail I rec'd two minutes ago, based on an ambiguous request to stay late that was sent to me at 5 PM then no follow up until 5:45 PM -

"4 people until 10 - 11 pm to get it done tonight?"

This is after I clocked double-time hours yesterday. For another unsatisfying and yes, thankless, task.

I hate
- my job.
- I hate it.

Parkin'

Parking is an entirely different animal when you live in a city. One that can never be tamed, but it goes along with your wishes once in a while. When I first moved here, I got five (yes, five) parking tickets in the first three months. OK, one was in Menlo Park, but still - before this time period, I'd had ONE. On CAMPUS. A pretty good record.

The past two days, and once more tomorrow, I've had to drive to San Jose really early in the morning (6:30) for a box babysitting project. Common in law. In any case, the one thing I have enjoyed about this ridiculously early start time is that allows me to park just about ANYWHERE b/c I know I'll have the car moved before meters kick or in or before street cleaners come by. Oddly enought, I've had two of the best parking spots I've EVER HAD while living in this building over the past two days. On the one hand, it seems like a shame b/c the car won't even BE there long. On the other hand, it's ludicrous to even THINK that's a shame b/c isn't the whole point of a good parking space not having to walk far to the car? Leaving it in a good space LONGER doesn't really add any value. Yet, it's a natural instinct to think, "Wow, I wish I could leave my car here ALL WEEK!"