short attention span

Another distracted day at work. Lunch (or lack thereof) seems to be a common thread. Not that I don't have anything to eat; there's a gorgeous organic salad and a can of tuna with my name on it. It's just not compelling me to eat it.

It was a fabulous weekend, preceded by a lovely Friday off. I've swum for the past three days, as my delts remind me everytime I move my arms. Lots of rest. Lots of laundry. Lots of eating at home.

I'm one week into a return to fitness, doing at least one thing each day. (though thursday was off last week). Spinning and swimming seem to be the preferred activities, but I tease myself with the idea of running every now and then. The impending October competition is inspiration enough—a short-term goal that doesn't become the center of my life.

It's odd, just doing activities without attaching my identity to them. On one hand, I'm proud of the routine I'm writing for October, but I'm not sure if I'll continue next year. If I stuck with it all, I'd improve for the next four years. But, I do miss triathlons. And, I never gave Circus School a chance. And yoga. At least I'm having fun this time around.

It would take buying a house to curb my current hobby dabbling, not that I'm currently shopping. It looms on the horizon, as I squirrel away hundreds of dollars for the massive downpayment the Bay Area requires.

Hmmm, I guess I should also prepare for whatever the next step is in my career as well... any suggestions?

3:09 p.m. 2004-08-30

back-to-back meetings

I've been in meeting after meeting today. There's been no time for lunch, but thank goodness for this morning's leftovers. (I've scalped many a chocolate frosted doughnut so I could enjoy unadulterated fried bread-y goodness.) One of the meetings went late and prevented me from getting in a workout. (I feared that meeting was going to be about a change in reporting relationships.) An earlier meeting was an hour and a half of talking online marketing strategy, although it was called by the PR guy. The most recent one was about a site redesign.

And through it all, I'm still in a great mood. I feel optimistic. Planning represents hope. There's no feeling that I'm in control of my overflowing task list, just a sense that this time projects will go better.

It probably won't, but it's important to hang onto the good feelings while they last. Maybe I'll read this in a few months, once 2005 has begun and the best-laid become rubble for the onslaught on unplanned emergencies and one-off projects. Hopefully I can recapture this illusion of productivity or cultivate the blind faith that work shouldn't bog me down.

A boy can dream.

3:57 p.m. 2004-08-26

burn and slash

Saturday evening, the masses that attended CC's 40th birthday party had moved inside to witness 40 push-ups and view selections from her video archive. I sat outside with C (just one letter) D and chatted with the late-arriving/human garbage disposal MH.

I wouldn't let one of my guests nibble on cold left-overs, plus there were some deliciously marinated spears of asparagus that had yet to be cooked, so I took it upon myself to relight the grill. (Keep in mind, it's new. The BBQ was the first use of it. I wasn't there for the initial lighting, but apparently the igniter doesn't work. God made lighters for a reason, no? It would be as simple as turning on the dial and sticking a lighter near where the igniter strikes.)

Not so simple. The hole to light is on the bottom on the unit. The gas was on, I half-squatted down and was straining to reach my arm underneath (the more efficient, long-nose firestarter wand-thing was upstairs with CC spectators), and slowly brought my handheld lighter near the hole.

FFFPHOOOOOOMPT.

The air around me flared into a transparent orange, as the previously-escaped gas lit. It was fast. I have no burns or blisters on my face. Just very startled. It felt like a flash sunburn. But then I smelled something that was not right. You know how when you haven't flossed for a while, your mouth releases fumes from decaying food? It wasn't that bad, but I knew it was a human body smell. My breath? Earwax melted? Seared boogers? But nothing hurt...

Hair. The tips on my hairline, my eyebrows and, most disturbingly, my eyelashes all melted back by one-eight of an inch. Tiny strands turned brittle and white, breaking off like young twigs after an early frost. It was barely noticeable. Until I showered.

I could still smell the stench hours later in the shower as I washed my face. I tried to trim off the singed ends, using a nose trimmer to cut-back the damaged eyelashes. Eyebrows weren't in such bad shape, but my head would be shaved the next day.

Nothing like vanity to make you change your look. I was due for a haircut anyway. It was odd to shave my head, not having planned it for weeks in advance. Usually it accompanied or resulted from some significant life change, a cleaning of the slate, a new beginning. But there were no races to run, no stress to relieve, no milestone to mark.

Just some BBQ'ed folicles.

3:43 p.m. 2004-08-23

accomodation

Sister arrives tonight at 11:00pm. With the same friend that visited back at the end of May. Fresh sheets are on my bed. Swim practice was cancelled tonight, so I have time to dress up the futon in the guestroom. Better leave work soon.

I've charged the batteries on the miniDV camera so I can make a vacation/home movie of her visit. Ulterior motive is to showcase my home and SF so my parents can, at least, glimpse where I've lived for the past eight years. Hope it's enough to convince Mom to come out. Truth be told, I don't really want Dad to. Looking forward to making moving pictures.

Sis is here for a week. During which I'm working (not even a Friday off). She knows the City and doesn't need my attention, and Chummy (like Sis, works an academic year) has nothing but time on her hands and relishes the company. I just want lots of time with her. And time alone. And time with my man. And friends. And the Olympics. And art projects. And writing. Oh, and swim practice.

There's not much downtime on the weekend, thanks to practice and the 40th birthday par-tay. I should figure out who I'm inviting... Looks like my only updates will be during the work week.

If I'm not too busy doing actual work.

5:51 p.m. 2004-08-17

Seattle's (not) best

So many other things I could be doing right now, like reordering my work priorities and scheduling them into blocks that will be rescheduled on the 'morrow. It was either this or making a steaming cup of green tea. A boy's gotta avoid work somehow, no?

(BRB, I'm getting that tea. Ugg, either the mug or the kitchen smells like stale coffee. I'm sure a backnote of spoiled half-and-half doesn't blend with jasmine that well.)

Speaking of stale, this past weekend saw my first visit to Seattle. I was duly unimpressed. The fault is mine. We stayed downtown at an over-hyped, aspirationally-hip hotel. What did I expect to see other than tourists?

I need to give the town another chance. My guide-to-be was a giant corn flake (her backing out of her scheduled-and-invites-out wedding is not related). Her phone conveniently lost, uncharged or turned off, automatically dumping me into her voicemail. A co-worker's email provided more gems than blocks upon blocks of walking. My other, much closer friend, was busy getting married so she couldn't devote time to be my tour guide, although her event planning skills were evidenced by the three-day-long celebration that included dinners, dancing, djs, lesbian ministers, toasts, slideshows, ferries, buses, car rides, picnics in the park and seeing her newly-purchased house.

Honestly, it was the best wedding of my life. I was honored to be a part of it (one of four readings, two for the bride, two for the groom). However, the Emerald City was mighty whitey, rather empty/sleepy (on vacation?) and boring. Granted, I didn't have a car to explore. Perhaps I missed gay-eighborhood, is there one? Fags were MIA, but the lezzies were out.

The bride's going to have to really impress me if she wants me to move up. I don't want to work for Starbucks in a crappy town.

Unless they pay me much bucks. It's time for tea.

4:33 p.m. 2004-08-16

time management

Just before bed on Monday evening. I've had a few different ideas of what to write tonight, but they all escape me right now.

Oh, yeah. First, I was going to write about wanting to have my life more like summer camp, with arts & craft time scheduled and swimming and free times to write letters, etc. I've been sort of trying to do that with my work schedule, blocking out chunks of time for different products. (Not as exciting as summer camp, but a tad more effective use of my time and ever so slightly more productive.)

Ironically, the other topic I considered writing about is what I did today, a very non-effective use of my time:—playin' hooky! I bailed from work early, around 3:15, to go pick up my depressed friend MK to go see a movie in SF with him.

Garden State was enjoyable, not the best, but not terrible. Predictable and implausible ending, enjoyable storytelling and, although flawed in execution, Natalie Portman's character was adorable. The best part was the final scene between protagonist (who's also the writer and director of the film) and his father. Our situations are not similar, but the dialogue between the is something I wish I could tell my dad.

More updates: This past weekend saw some doodles drawn in my sketchbook (prep for the coming Gocco Revolution). I got an email from IGW asking me if I'd be interested in being part of the Aquanuts' fall watershow. And, I got a fun little haircut from Karen last week.

10:47 p.m. 2004-08-09

going Gocco

I won.

I've just bought my fourth item from eBay. The first was replacement Taco Bell Star Wars cup toppers that were stolen from my car in 2000.

Then, there were those signs from France: HOMMES and the one about la viande during warm spells.

Next, was a fountain pen from a guy in England, a gorgeous Parker 51. Which has not been filled with ink for a few months.

Now, in the spirit of new hobbies, I am the proud owner of a Print Gocco B6 machine and stamp kit. More than enough to get me started as a printmaker: stationery, gifts, fine art. It's all possible.

Cheers for a second entry today!

11:22 p.m. 2004-08-03

blurt

Nothing to say and not much living has occurred since last night's entry. Is it better to get into the practice of just scribbling (what's the typing equivilent?) something as opposed to making true Writing?

This blog is supposed to be more documentary, tidbits o' life, passing fancies (like my interest in filmmaking, Bonsai, printmaking, circus, fountain pens, etc.). So it's all appropriate, huh?

It's just before 10am. I can still make today productive.

9:49 a.m. 2004-08-03

an august month

C and K are eating ice cream and fascinated by Growing Up Gotti. I could care less. Typing here is better. It's at least something.

A new month, a new page. Like Monday for many people, I hit the gym today. I haven't been lifting for a long time. I even ran for twenty-five minutes on the treadmill. It's not the start of anything new. Not a new training program. Not the beginning of a new goal. Just decided to hit the gym. For fun.

Thanks, Eve. Both you and your Good Body inspired me to give up saying the "f" word. I also threw away all of the mens fitness magazines and all of the torn-out ab articles. It was nothing new, just retread women's studies 101. Heck, I never read Naomi Wolfe's (is there an "e" on that?) The Beauty Myth in college; but that never stopped me from wanting my own washboard.

It was a very social week, this last one. Monday, Eve did a benefit at work, reading the intro to her new book and performing a new piece from a work about teen girls. Tuesday, swim practice. Wednesday, I cooked for the wine tasting (shiraz under $10). Thursday, Bets and I went to see the Eve's show. Then, Friday, Bets returned the favor and took me to Teatro Zinzani. We were joined by her friend Steven who knew a guy in the cast. Therefore, we hung out with him until 2 a.m. backstage.

Work is feeling more manageable. Desk is clean. Phone messages have all been returned. Email is under control (not personal email, but it's progress). Projects are getting ticked off the list. Best of all, I'm getting out of there at a reasonable hour.

Off to go do more living, so I'll have more to write about.

10:11 p.m. 2004-08-02

past - future