Thursday, May 31, 2007

close, but not quite

I almost got bored, so I decided to write a blog. I wanted to remember what it was like to record and recap. I used to do this obsessively, as in, today I ate: cereal (the kind with more calories) and milk and a banana and a salad with non-fat dressing and an apple and some stir fry with tofu and... I worked out on the elliptical for 45 min and pushed myself hard but I didn't do any sit ups and I missed a double turn en de dans during the second combination but I finished all my homework and I drank enough water. I still have laundry to do tomorrow, and I should call my parents because I spent all my social time for tonight talking to my boyfriend. My goals in life are A) B) and C) and my goals for this semester are a) b) and c) and my goals for this month are a) b) and c), so that makes my goals for tomorrow X) Y) and Z).

And then I stopped doing that, because...

Loosing track can be a way to find yourself.

Where am I now?

Unknowingly somehow I have a position, something I thought of but in the not-possible sense. And somehow that position entitles me to tell people to do things and to calm them down when they are worried and make them worry when they have not been prudent. And often I make mistakes. But I hope I am learning.

Somehow and knowingly I am not where I thought I would be, and not where I want to be, but maybe understanding while still denying what I need to do to move on. (move past, move up, go forward, press onwards, develop, expand, sheer away, pare down, crystallize, and flower.)

Indisputably there is more I could be doing. Indisputably I am doing a lot. Indisputably I am hardest on myself, and not as hard as I'd like to be.

Sometimes I'd like to be tucked away in a place where I wouldn't have to think, where I could go back to having someone take care of me. Othertimes I'd like to go to a place where I am all by myself with no responsibilities to caretakers or others. Most-times I realize that the people around me are essential to how I construct myself, and that I will not go from a) to b) or elsewhere without them.

Thank you to those.

Hello world.

Once I wrote a computer program that made the screen say, "Hello world." Once I played soccer, once I played the piano, once I played the guitar, then the flute. I was good at math, understood science, and passed all the tests, but I forgot it all the next day. Once I thought I'd be a webdesigner, once I thought I'd be a photographer, on the photojournalist side, or maybe just audition portraits. Once I thought I'd write. (More than once.) More than once I've also thought that I don't want to do anything for money that mattered to me because, once someone gives me money for it, they have influence over what I produce, and then it is no longer child of my own creation.

Maybe I want to create.

But I don't know in what.

Other than in this fashion: asdkfjlsafjawoeifjslkdfjsdla l sfjoawi jfl fsof wl k lkfjowe klsj dia o lsdkfj awoie kdlf bie leio cmsaofjem skfh8en ksjfdklaew dkf dkjwef di03 sjkos;fn ode so ef li fa sf0 ska; viwf .. sadfoijw .saf.


Sunday, May 13, 2007

Wouldn't you?

I would like to write about the fact that I like writing blogs. In fact, I truly enjoy the activity. I like thinking that maybe somehow I am more interesting, or at least better understood for my already existing interestingness, because I write them.

I would like to discuss how I don't think that all blogs are good, but that the ones I enjoy reading I find very good, and I think they should be made into a book, and preserved as an indication of the times we live in.

I would like to say that I think writing blogs is a very selfish thing to do, at least in the way I do it. And I think that everyone should have more than one entirely selfish activity that they do. My other selfish activities include dancing and bike riding and eating and sleeping and, most of the time, working. Sometimes I go out, and that too, is selfish.

Sometimes when I have free time to think, which is mostly when I'm on my bike and coasting through the Panhandle, I like to think of names for books that will never get written and never get published. One is "A Guide to San Francisco for the Little Moneyed and Easily Amused." Another is "I Don't Really Believe this Light Should be Red: Cyclists' Interpretations of San Francisco." And finally, "Blog it Out: A Cultural History."

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

nottin doin

I can't get anything done lately.

I did... the dishes, and ate some chocolate. I also cooked some tofu and made rice in the rice cooker, managed a hot and cold shower, and I think I made my bed this morning. (Yes, I did.) I sent eleven emails and made three phone calls, but the one I didn't make is on my mind.

I took a ballet class and an itty bitty bit of a pointe class. I remembered why I love the power that comes from the strength it takes to be delicate.

I rode my bike.

I sat on my futon.

I promised to always talk about big deals.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007


Today, I biked the width of the San Francisco peninsula. I saw water at both ends, and I got fantastic sunburn. In about three days it will turn into some fantastic tan lines, indicative of the tee-shirt I wore today.

Today, I met with a long lost friend from my hometown. She's been living in San Francisco and miserably practicing law for five years. About a year ago, she told me she hated her job and her only joy in life was knitting. Today she told me that a week and a half ago, she gave two weeks notice at her law firm and, in about three days, will be starting her own interior design company with a friend and working for

Today, I missed about four phone calls.

And I wrote a blog.

Yesterday I talked on a web cam for quite a while.

Saturday, May 5, 2007

c'est ca

The morning after the party,
I woke up when she left the apartment.
I made myself eggs and coffee.
I picked up my dress from the floor and hung it up.
I showered;
I brushed my teeth.
I called my parents and told them
I wasn't coming home until August.
"I'll miss you," said my mother.
"The weather's better in August," said my father,
"and more vegetable will be ripe."