Archive for the ‘tired’ Category

Day 36: Give ’em a smile…

In my line of work, a smile is something I have to keep on at all times. Maybe more than my shoes.

Unlike a lot of lucky folks, I had to spend the weekend working. And working…and…smiling…and…

Anyway, while doing so, I was bombarded by the constant questions of when this and that was going to run in the paper. All the while keeping that bright and shiny smile and gleeful attitude only to nearly want to sob by the time I got to my car. Partly from exhaustion — mostly from burnout and sore cheeks from all that teeth-bearing. It just can all make you want to collapse. Even when THIS was what you kind of asked for. When I got home I was welcomed with an angry email from someone. Their story hadn’t run when they expected it to. Therefore I’m suddenly a monster…

That lovely Saturday I passed out even before SNL ended. So Day 36 meant that I walked the lake near my apartment and carried my camera with me. I will probably post some in my Flickr account along with those Dia de los Muertos photos I took a few weekends ago…

Day 36 I decided to push aside my smile. I packed only water and the camera. The smile somehow got left at home. Those who passed me on the trail may have thought I looked serene but definitely not gleeful. It felt nice and I absorbed every breeze, every animal noise and smell. I walked for about two hours and then pumped some iron. Then capped off the night busting a Martha Stewart and decorating way too damn early for Christmas. I think that works for the countdown…

Day 17-18: I smoked on the balcony…

I’m so relaxed.

Lots of things make me do that. All of which aren’t a good enough reason to toke on a cancer stick. However, I buy a pack a month and smoke when I feel it’s necessary. Day 16 and 17 included smoking a cig on the balcony. It felt good. And I just relaxed. Maybe I should have a fake one like the aspergers guy from Boston Legal to appease something inside of me with a placebo type method. I did walk the fair today. And I’m already friggin’ sore as hell from Day 15. So, we’ll see for the weekend. I’m already invited to a VIP party Friday which I doubt will be swarming in healthy. This shit is hard…especially when you have become a recent object of attention from the non-fairer sex. Men are distracting.

Day 16: Suck my kiss and tummy rubs

So it’s Day 16 and I almost didn’t hit the gym being that I had work and errands to run. By the time I got there it was nearly 11 p.m. — which assured me I would be the only one there.  I climbed up on the balcony to reach the stereo planted up high in the wall (don’t know why they feel like only short people steal) and I placed my Blood Sugar Sex Magik into the player. Then after a little stretching, I got on the machine of hell PRECOR elliptical monster and got pumping. I picked the hardest level of course because as you know from Day 15, I was overcompensating. By the time I’m at the highest hill, Anthony Kiedis is screaming “suck my kiss!” and I’m clasping my hands as if to pray  (something I rarely do anyway) because damn this is starting to hurt.

Then some guy walks in — right at the crescendo of Flea’s guitar. Because I’m a polite gym bitch, and my being nice may shock you, I tell the guy he can turn it off. He insists I was there first so it was up to me. Of course I tell him it’s OK even though the only thing keeping me on that friggin’ machine was that CD — well that and the fact that I saw my back this morning and realized I don’t need that much spine coverage. The redeeming part of this tale is the guy was at least decent looking. He decided to search out a show on the television but I don’t think I heard him ask me what I would prefer to watch. I figured since I was so damn nice, if he landed on something I hated, I would tell him. He decided on Dirty Jobs, which pleased me.

So the guy gets to stretching and I see he is taking off his cap and I realize the view is looking better. Then once on the rowing machine he takes off his shirt and gets going. Yes, my last five hills were a bit more pleasant somehow even though I was trying not to look — which I managed to accomplish because my hair kept getting in my face and you would never know the corner of my eye was gawking a tad bit. Then an older guy walks in and the two of them seem to know each other. This one is in shorts and pretty fit for whatever age I  figure he was and I became intimidated by his speed on the treadmill. By that time I was really ready to go — too much testosterone.

When I got into the apartment, I finished up on my crunches. Tiger Lily decided to find her way to my stomach to hang out. Maybe to help because she kept kneading my tummy. As if she could push my gut down. But I think even Lily knew that was a tough feat and slowly she walked away to the window instead. Yet another mixed emotion countdown day, but I feel the progress coming on. I’m going to have to really give it everything because alas, Thursday is one last day at the State Fair.

“You have 10 profile views…”

Once upon a time in the land of pseudo optimism, I opened an account on a dating site — even though I pride myself on being independent and embracing my single life (*snickers a little…*) I know. I know. But gee, I just ran plum out of places to meet guys I would eventually have nothing in common with. Go figure.

At the time I opened the account it was after a few people in my life convinced me to put myself out there, so I did. Just to see what it was all about. However I’ve since neglected the profile pretty much because I refused to waste my cold cash for the “pleasure” of contacting/responding to an I’m Online smiley face. But because I never turned the email feature off, I was still getting email alerts every time I got profile views or if someone sent me a message. I should have deleted it sooner but left it up just to see what would filter in — partly for laughs but mostly for curiosity.

It’s kind of sad though. One: To even have the profile in the first place. Two: To realize online the same thing you realize in “real” life — looking kind of sucks. I figure it’s just better to lie low and see what happens in your day to day bustle. Well that and the messages below are from guys I’ve attracted and they weren’t a strong case for going the online route. Please note that I have not altered a single word except any phone numbers or “real” names. And nine out of ten of the guys who contacted me were well over my age range (no offense to any readers of a certain age!)

Bonjour and you are joli. Here it is a Sunday night and I have long since been awake. And as I met the Lord this morning in the stillness of this days awakening-I ask Him once again Lord, will today be the day that I find a friend who is looking for me? So after viewing your profile, I ponder for awhile to pay this fee, please allow me to introduce myself I am Chef Joey I am a man who has many gifts and have already reached several of my goals. My life and my love for God have moved me into Next Dimension thinking. “A Man of substance, a hard working man and I do put in many long hours, oh and a character, I get silly at time”. I look forward to the next season of my life, with the one, He prepare for me. I am a classic romantic. Small notes on a pillow, surprise warm baths and hot oil for a weary day. If you want to be romance and spoil, that I can do. I have shared some of my thoughts with you; won’t you take the time to share a few words with me? As I stated in my profile I am open to a real conversation, via telephone. Online chatting/emailing back and forth does absolutely nothing for me. Talk with me, I’d love to hear your voice my number is 555-555-5555.

Signed A. Guy I Need a Translator For AND Probably Needs a Green Card

Prove you wrong? Hmmmmm……….. I guess I can surmise from that, that you just naturally assume you are right . I checked out your website. You have a very discerning eye. You’re very artistic. My artistc talents tend toward the graphic. I enjoy drawing and painting a bit. I would really like to learn more about you. Please check out my profile and if you find it interesting, hit me back. I would love to chat with you.
Have a great day, hope to hear from you soon.

Signed A. Guy Who Said He’s Looking for a Dark-Skinned Beauty (AND WELL OVER 50!)

Granted my profile headline did say, “creative cynic, prove me wrong.” Cheesy, I know. And this guy’s about the most intelligent message I had received. But did I mention he was/is looking for a dark-skinned beauty? WTF???!?!?!

Nice essay…obviously an intelligent, interesting lady. I could probably shoot some stick w/ya…we’ll chat soon…

Signed A. Guy Who Took My Love of Pool to New and OBVIOUS Heights

Hi ,I’m (bleep) i like your pic(s) & profile a little about myself i’m spontaneous,fun loving & witty. I’m open minded and eclectic I enjoy meeting new people going to new places and doing new things.I’d love to hear your story if open to talking drop me a line ….. …have a great day……ciao!

Signed A. Guy I Can’t Believe Signed A Message with Ciao

I could go on but that would just be wrong. It’s only a small taste of the messages I got. You know how Seinfield would be so damn picky about his dates and would find the dumbest things to dump them over? Well I’m not sure if I was really being picky by not responding to these guys but I do know I got the creeps. And even though looks aren’t everything, how hard is it to get a photo of you that isn’t in front of your Driver’s Select  BMW or out of focus, or taken with a cell phone, or obviously from 1985? 

As 30 rears it’s hopefully lovely head, I wonder if I can nab me an 80-year-old hottie who likes billiards, black women and needs me to send money to his far off land so he can come marry me proper.

Wow. I make a really pissed of cat.

Teach me how to lie…without guilt.

It’s a Sunday. An overcast Sunday at that. And I’ve showered, ate some apricots and am pondering lunch. I feel pretty damn relaxed for once and I just want to be loungy today.

Well today wasn’t supposed to be a day of leisure. I had some places to be today but didn’t feel like going. Actually, I don’t have to be there but I tend to obligate myself to just about everything. Which is what I did on a Friday night as well — obligated myself to an event I was really only going to because I was asked by a family member. But not today. Today I want to fart around on WordPress. Watch IFC and pack up for my move Saturday. So I told a few fibbers. Small but fibs just the same.

As you can read in my bio, I don’t like lying. And in fact today’s fibber wasn’t really a true lie. I have been doing some work today, as my fib mentioned. However I haven’t spent all day doing it. I just didn’t want to leave the house. Didn’t want to shed my full tank of gas. So I fibbed.

But now the guilt is setting in and it wasn’t even a really big lie! How do politicians do this everyday?! I sometimes wish I could lie and in fact lie without the guilt attached. I’m not Catholic but I am surely someone who can feel guilty at the drop of a hat. Even if it isn’t my fault. What a deficiency to have! Tomorrow will be full of more obligations, even after work hours. So I already have a nice bookend of my time obligated. So Sunday I lied. Er fibbed.

I don’t really know why I’ve blogged about this. Maybe it’s my form of a confessional…

Here we go again…

I’m tired of hearing about the word “nigger.”

Now comedian Eddie Griffin got in trouble  for using it. I will spare you all the other things at hand and how careful comedians have to be now about using this word. So let me just give you my take …

I don’t want to hear you using it in my presence. And I’m not saying, “Oh, it’s OK when WE do it but you white folks better not put that word in ya mouth.” I won’t be saying that because personally I just hate the word and I don’t really want to hear it at all — from anyone. BUT… I grew up with this word (as obviously so many other black folks have) so I admit that on occasion, I do use it’s variation of “nigga” among friends and family but not in earshot of the general public. When people do that, it just fuels the fire of this long-debated and senstive issue of this word — the word EVERYONE hates but for some reason people just love to use. And it just gives more reasons for people to say, “Well if it’s OK for YOU to use it, then why can’t I?” Because hearing this word among strangers is simply embarrassing. And personally, when I’ve used it, it still sounds awful coming from my mouth — even in jest. And I’m far from being a prude.

But that said, I will admit to being a hypocrite. I have used it. Plus I don’t care if my father uses it. And sometimes his joke attached to it is damn funny. But that is in the comforts of his home. And I know there are some really wonderfully offensive and racist things we probably all say at home (and won’t admit) no matter how open-minded you were brought up in this society. We are all human and no one is 100 percent free of some prejudice. The real issue of race is whether or not you actually live your life in ignorance.

Ignorance: the state or fact of being ignorant; lack of knowledge, learning, information, etc. The condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed.

Yep. I know you know that definition. But look at it for a minute. Key words being “lack of knowledge” and “unaware.” Just because we all have our prejudices, it is through learning and being aware that we decide whether we actually act out the prejudices we hold. This is about knowing the difference of what’s on the surface, what is deep-rooted and whether or not your prejudices rule your life or how you treat people. I won’t get preachy here. But I will confess my sins and lay down some facts.

Fact: I admit to repeating or allowing my ears to hear racists jokes. Sometimes I even laugh.

Fact: I hate but have used the word “nigga” at least 5 times this year.

Fact: If you take out all the “nigga” references in Hip Hop as truly hypocrital rap mogul Russell Simmons  is currently trying to do, (be sure to click both links and see how he flips his views so quickly) what’s left will probably be more poetic.

Fact: I’m not a racist. But I’m not perfect. And neither are you.

So. Really. I’m tired of hearing about the word “nigger.”

Delete my comments…

I have to say this though I know I’ve probably hit my rant quota for the week. If you have read the post below you have a little insight as to why I’m scrawling my latest.

I’ll shut up now…I have to really give it to intelligent bloggers. There are so many out there. They discuss just about everything and speak their mind. I speak my mind as well. I say what I want after reading your post and you are free to approve it or delete it. But one thing is for sure, please decide against altering it. All this does is reflect something that isn’t the truth of what was said.

Trust and believe I have moments where I cuss like a sailor. If you don’t like that, please put up a little disclaimer where it can easily be found and say so. I will respect your wishes. It’s your right and I respect everyone’s rights.

I love debate. And arguments and disagreements don’t scare me much. I think we all can use getting a little oxygen pumping in our blood as we get flush faced about something we don’t agree with — that is what makes us passionate.

I’m a chick. I cuss. You may not like it. You may think it “lowbrow.” Just delete.

Please and thank you.

“Hobby Lobby can eat it” or “Why I missed the gym…”

Between the punk framing kids at Hobby Lobby who keep screwing up my work and the “neighbor” at my apartments walking around with a Miller Light 40 in a paper bag and telling me I’m too pretty to be frowning, I decided NOT to go to the gym. I just got tired of people today. Hit my limit. So I showered, am currently dreaming about a glass of wine, and will plop my plump behind on my couch.

With “fat” rebellion ladies like Joy Nash and others in this world, I’m trying not to feel guilty about it.

But I asked myself (and now you) two questions.

1) What the hell happened to customer service?!

2) Just because I look like a gal who should always be bubbly, does that mean I HAVE to always look the part?

(so I have three questions)

3) Does my potential of being a real “fat” ass really matter?

why do it?

It’s 10:07 p.m. (central time) and I’m at the office.

I’ve been shooting/networking/writing since 4 p.m. in the heat that is the staple of the wonderful South. Even as I type this, I can smell the outside yuck and the old sweat that has since dried on my face and flattened my hair. All of this plus I’m tired and have an early morning.

But as I drive home I will be filled with the satisfaction of progress….something I needed to feel today for TODAY was one of those I-think-I will-walk-out-of-the-office days —even before my little evening of coverage began. And it wasn’t because I had a bad day. I just felt heavy, tired and kind of like packing up my stuff and plopping on the couch. I don’t think that is from the feeling of laziness but more to the point — feeling like there’s more. There has to be right?

Well at least today meant progress: I made new contacts, got people excited about our publication and fulfilled today’s duties. There is so much I have to do from day to day in this field. Why are we so curious that it becomes the decision to be journalists? The money isn’t all that. We don’t do it for money I guess. And sometimes I really wish I wanted to do something else.

But I think we also do it because we think we will make some kind of mark once we are gone. Or maybe not.

Maybe it’s just narcissism…