Day 0: Refined sugar fast

So one of the topics I plan to write about during my month-long writer's contract is that I plan to go 30 days without refined sugar. Starting tomorrow.

Why? I've noticed that I have started to use food, particularly sugary food, as a crutch when I'm feeling emotional. I will sometimes grab a sugary snack from a vending machine to eat on the way home from work. If it's been a really emotional day I'll reach for the chocolate. (I love chocolate. I'm certain I couldn't live without chocolate but 30 days might be OK.) I'm starting to think emotional eating is a really bad habit to get into, one I should try to end as soon as I can to avoid a myriad of health issues that might arise from it.

I also wonder if I would just feel better not eating refined sugar. Maybe I'd have more energy to deal with life. It might be nice not to deal with the sugar-high rollercoaster as often as I do. Or maybe not, but we'll see. It's been so long since I've gone without sugar I wouldn't even know.

This may sound funny, but many times (most of the time?) I feel like I'm not in control of what I eat. In the morning before work it's been quite a while since I've felt there was any other option besides sugary cereal and milk. My coworker brought some sugary Fourth of July cookies to work and of course I couldn't help but eat four of them. When I eat out, which is pretty often, it's always a diet train wreck. Bottom line, I want to achieve more control over my diet and eat things I feel good about instead of guilty. I think it will be good to shed some of that guilt.

And while my goal is not really weight loss, well, that might be a nice side effect. I'm not going to consciously restrict my calories, but I will substitute fruit if I'm craving cookies, or eat some nuts on the way home instead of gummy fruit snacks. I do not want to feel hungry.

I went to the store today and bought fruit, nuts and Triscuits as a start. That should help. For breakfast I'm planning to replace sugary cereal with oatmeal and/or hard-boiled eggs.

I'll report back tomorrow.

July photos

Good resource: Auto maintenance tips from the Car Talk guys. I like their Can I Do This Myself? matrix ranging from "There are two kinds of screwdrivers?" to "I've built a working nuclear reactor out of wood."

30

What I wrote on Friday:

I'm two days away from being 30. I go back and forth on whether it is a big deal or not. I guess I made it a big deal with my 30 things project. On the other hand, I am doing less for my birthday this year than I did last year. I'm not having a party. I'm going to dinner with my family, but it seems like I do that every week. I'm not making a big purchase. I'm not changing jobs. I'm working the day before and the day after my birthday. The day feels mundane to me. I feel like there *must* be more drama.

Maybe I don't want to make more of a big deal because I don't want to feel old. I already feel old. A few weeks ago I asked my mom when she first got varicose veins. She said not until her late 30s. Sort of a relief, but it's not really that far in the future. My face isn't what it used to be, I think about sunscreen use more often than I used to. I worry about accumulating paunch if I don't watch what I eat. This seems pretty vain but I almost cried a few weeks ago thinking that my body is never going to be what it was.

In some other life maybe I'd have a big party but all I can think of is the awkwardness of who to invite and who will actually show up and the expense of it. My friends also aren't what they used to be. Not that I don't have friends, but there's not a group of people I would automatically think of to invite for a big, fun celebration.

Eh, but I am not in a terrible place in my life. I have an amazing boyfriend. My job is steady and interesting and absorbing. I have no health problems at the moment. My family is wonderful. Many blessings.

I was reading an interview with Candice Bergen in New York Magazine where she says, "It’s a privilege to get old." It is. It's experience that makes you better -- better in your career, better at managing life in general. And it's not automatic that you even get the privilege of being older, only by the grace of God do we live another day, another year, another moment.

*****************************************************************************

So I've passed the day and it was a tired, hectic, headache-y day that felt more like an obstacle course than a celebration. And I cried at the end of it. I really did have a good cry, and I'm not sure why that emotion came out, but it was not pure joy on my 30th birthday, it was happiness and sadness and anxiety and pain in my head. I feel so much better two days after the fact, having jumped the fence to the land of being a "big kid," and really, nothing has changed.

Isn't there a saying, "Do one thing every day that scares you"? If you're not doing that, you're not really living. Many days go by when I don't do a thing that scares me. But the days I do the thing and succeed, those are the best days. I think of this because last week I did something that scared me to death and could have gone up in flames at any moment. But it didn't and now I am so glad that I tried it. I should do more things like that. I say that now but when the thing goes up in flames I won't feel that way.

San Francisco

San Francisco. On my other blog I resolved to go to a place I had never been before I turn 30. Last year I decided that the liberal enclave by the Bay was the place that would fire my imagination going into my 30s.

I got a window seat for the ride from LA to San Francisco and I spent an hour looking down at the sea and the rocky coast. What is it about California? Whenever I go there I can see why everyone wants to live there.

I was going to be there a day ahead of my friend who was coming in from L.A. I was alone and nervous so I kept going over the sequence in my head -- get off the plane, get my bag, catch the tram to the BART station, buy a ticket to the Powell Street station, which cost exactly $8.10.

Waiting for the tram to the station I held on to my suitcase and looked around. It was an elevated outdoor platform. The sun was shining brightly. The decor was white, there was a leafy plant in a large white pot to brighten it up. A nice touch. I sniffed the air and it smelled like...flowers. Really, I'm not kidding.

It was about a 30 minute ride into the city before I emerged unto Powell Street and the whole world changed. It was like a cartoon to me of what a big city should look like. Big buildings with world brand names like The Gap, Forever 21 and J. Crew all around. A constant stream of people walking by the windows. Streetcars going by to my right. The turnaround for the trolley car yards away from me. And lots of homeless people who are not afraid to come up and talk to you.

(From Wikipedia: "The city of San Francisco, California, due to its mild climate and its social programs that have provided cash payments for homeless individuals, is often considered the homelessness capital of the United States, together with Los Angeles." That explains a lot.)

My first conversation with a San Franciscan was with a black man giving me directions, unsolicited, as I stood there with my backpack and suitcase on wheels, taking in the scene and looking slightly puzzled as to where to go next. He told me some directions I already knew, though I felt obligated to give him a couple dollars when he asked for a tip.

I wheeled my suitcase to the hostel, my home for the next four days. My French roommate was friendly and highly intelligent. Unfortunately I think I annoyed the hell out of her because all she wanted to do was sleep off her jet lag and I kept opening and closing my locker. Ah, the joys of communal living.

I walked through Chinatown on my way to the Beat Museum, the first destination on my list. Chinatown kind of reminded me of downtown El Paso, though with about a million more Asian people. The fresh vegetables practically glowed in the afternoon sun. A slightly rancid fishy smell at some of the shops reminded me of the back of a grocery store.

Then there was the Beat Museum and suddenly I'm in hipster San Francisco. Here were the altars to Allen Ginsburg, Neal Cassady and of course, the great Jack Kerouac. In the back was a small theater playing a video with friends and former girlfriends of Jack Kerouac talking about his life, his successes and failures and why the fame drove him crazy.



The museum itself was very beat, a low-budget operation with prize displays of one of Jack Kerouac's sweaters and a 1947 Hudson just like the one Neal (aka Dean) and Jack drove across the country in On the Road.

My favorite meal in San Francisco was Thursday afternoon at Caffe Trieste. I ordered a double espresso and a hot turkey sandwich, and sat at my tiny white table next to a man wearing a yarmulke and some cops who were discussing -- *poetry* *gasp*. Here it finally hit me, wow, I am in *San Francisco,* a place where being an urban intellectual isn't some silly pipe dream. I went to many cafes in San Francisco but there was something very genuine about Caffe Trieste. This place was no cartoon.

Then City Lights Bookstore, the greatest bookstore I've ever been to, where I spent a couple hours salivating over the books and magazine rack and just being amazed that such a place exists.



My friend C. arrived Friday afternoon and we took an evening tour of Alcatraz. Alcatraz is a place I would describe as scary beautiful. There couldn't be a place with a more beautiful view of San Francisco, the bridges and the bay. The island itself has this stoic beauty about it, all steep and rocky and green. But no prison can be called beautiful with the cell blocks, watch tower, solitary confinement area and general air of hopelessness. A tour guide said a prisoner once said the worst thing about Alcatraz was the view of freedom so close by.




The Golden Gate Bridge exceeded my expectations in every way. It's so long and so tall and the rust red color (officially International Orange) made me want to smile inside every time I looked at it. It is the perfect color. I almost got run over Saturday morning by cyclists on the bridge who apparently take their ride very seriously. Once I figured out how to stop on the bridge without getting hit by a bike, the views from the bridge of Alcatraz and the city are the surrounding area were breathtaking. I loved walking on the bridge. The bridge is 1.7 miles long and we didn't go all the way across, but we did get close enough for me to wonder what was on the other side. In my mind Marin County appeared as some rocky green coastal paradise where rainbows appear daily.

Fisherman's Wharf was a little too touristy for my taste, with no decent seafood at a decent price. I did like seeing the beach and the piers and the ice cream sundae shared with C. at Ghirardelli Square was heavenly. There was a jazz band playing with a drummer who was just a kid, and I think the kid was the reason that a crowd had stopped to watch.

We took a cable car back to the hostel that evening. I told my friend that a cable car really took you back to the San Francisco of the 1910s or 20s. I couldn't believe that the drivers manually turned the cable car around at the end of the line, just like in the old days. And the wood-paneled inside of the cars seemed original, definitely not designed for the girth of 21st century passengers. The ride is slow with lots of vibration, and it's nerve-wracking when you look out and see just how steep the decline is. Ah, but it's fun to ride in a packed car with all the other tourists looking out the windows, absolutely delighted to be riding this thing.

My last day in San Francisco C. and I went to the tiny Paris Cafe for huge croissant breakfast sandwiches. I asked her if she wanted to go back to Paris, but she gave a "been there, done that" sort of answer. She said once you've seen one big city, you've kind of seen them all. Yes and no. Despite their similarities every city plays a different song. San Francisco takes natural beauty and quality of life to the next level.



I spent the last of my time in San Francisco walking around Haight Street. Hippie culture has always fascinated me and I was eager to see where the summer of love happened. Ah, but I was disappointed. I imagine a hippie from the '60s wouldn't recognize this neighborhood with its upscale, tourist-oriented shops. Cartoonish is the word I'll go back to to describe it. It was too clean and too bright and shiny to have any sort of authentic hippie vibe. Also, this was a Sunday so the street was very empty, aside from a couple kids with dreads, and nuns and homeless people, not hippies, occupied Golden Gate Park. Still it was fun to see the psychedelic signs and shrines to Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead and George Harrison.










A street over from Haight were beautiful Victorian row houses. How do these houses withstand earthquakes? I wondered. I walked until I got to Buena Vista Park, probably the most beautiful park I've ever encountered. Huge trees offered shade as I walked up steps until I got to a point with an unimaginably beautiful view of San Francisco. I could see what seemed like every house in San Francisco and even out to the Golden Gate Bridge once more. It brought me peace on this Sunday and was the perfect end to my trip.

I missed out on the window seat on my flights back and also forgot I had stowed away most of my magazines in my suitcase. So I pulled out the Kindle and finished my book about happiness, The Geography of Bliss. After traveling around the world, the author comes to the conclusion that place doesn't matter so much, happiness is purely relational. Family and friends are important to happiness, money matters less than we think and we should have trust and gratitude. Shocking! I wanted to request a refund from Amazon.

But surely if there was any place one could be happy it would be San Francisco. For the flowers in the air, the sunshine, the peaceful vibe, the beats, the water, and the color of the bridge. As Jack Kerouac wrote in the original scroll for On the Road, "It was okay with me once again I wanted to get to San Francisco, everybody wants to get to San Francisco and what for? In God's name and under the stars what for? For joy, for kicks, for something burning in the night."

Girls

From a gushing review of Girls by Emily Nussbaum in New York magazine:

Girls was a bold defense (and a searing critique) of the so-called Millennial Generation by a person still in her twenties. It was a sex comedy from the female POV, taking on subjects like STDs and abortion with a radical savoir-faire as well as a visual grubbiness that was a statement in itself. It embraced digital culture, and daily confession, as a default setting. Even before the Republican candidates adopted The Handmaid’s Tale as a platform, Dunham’s sly, brazen, graphic comedy, with its stress on female friendships, its pleasure in the sick punch line, its compassion for the necessity of making mistakes, felt like a retort to a culture that pathologizes feminine adventure. As my younger colleague Willa Paskin put it, the show felt, to her peers, FUBU: “for us by us.”

I'm definitely intrigued. Will have to check this out.

Twitter misses me

In my e-mail today:

"So much happens on Twitter every day, whether it's breaking news, a deal at your favorite shop, a local traffic jam or a funny pick-me-up from a friend. Twitter keeps you informed with what matters most to you today and helps you discover what might matter to you most tomorrow.

Aren't you curious to know what you're missing on Twitter right now?"

*sighs* No, not really. Let me deal with the noise in my head first before adding any more chatter.

Review of On the Road: The Original Scroll:

"The biggest immediate difference between the first draft and the finished product, though, is that while we know 'On the Road' as a novel — the great novel of the Beat Generation — the scroll is essentially nonfiction, a memoir that uses real names and is far less self-consciously literary."

Maybe that is why I liked it so much.

From a New York Times op-ed, "Why I Am Leaving Goldman Sachs":
"It might sound surprising to a skeptical public, but culture was always a vital part of Goldman Sachs’s success. It revolved around teamwork, integrity, a spirit of humility, and always doing right by our clients....I am sad to say that I look around today and see virtually no trace of the culture that made me love working for this firm for many years. I no longer have the pride, or the belief."

Free sweets

It was a good day for free sweets. My coworker offered half her Whataburger apple pie to me and I couldn't say no. Then the HR director passed around a tray of cookies and I took a chocolate chip one.

But the greatest score was my friend in the reading club who brought two plastic containers full of profiteroles, one containing puffs with raspberry filling and white chocolate glaze and the other with puffs with vanilla cream filling and chocolate and coconut glaze. I limited myself to four.

Free food does make a day more pleasant.

I'm planning to post about San Francisco, but I think I need to be in the right state of mind to write it, not about to fall asleep if I close my eyes for 30 seconds.

Dusty season arrives in El Paso. As long as I have Claritin I'm good.

I had fun at work today. Work should be fun. Some of the time, anyway.

Loved this essay. *sigh*

Worked 7-7 today. Going to San Francisco tomorrow. During the day I kept thinking, at this time tomorrow, I'll be...on an airplane...seeing some cable cars...checking into the hotel...etc. I really can't imagine what it will be like -- the consistency of the air, the Pacific, the people. But of course, per my usual course of action, I will take a million pictures and report back.

Sorry for the inactivity on this blog. Work has been consuming most of my time. Outside of work I don't feel much like getting on the computer. Or thinking, for that matter.

It's Saturday and it hurts to type. Can you say carpal-tunnel syndrome? Anyone know how to avoid this?

I'm reading The Geography of Bliss. Interesting book. It beats the pants off The Happiness Project, which I read last year. Probably because the author actually *goes somewhere* and *does something.* Why do I read books on happiness? Somehow I think the secret of happiness is not found in books.

Check out Roger Ebert's piece on rewatching Contact, still one of my favorite movies: "The strength of 'Contact' is in the way it engages in issues that are relevant today, and still only rarely discussed in the movies."

Review: Down and Delirious in Mexico City

I almost don't need to visit Mexico City, I'm so convinced blogger/Twitter-er/foreign correspondent extraordinaire Daniel Hernandez nails the vibe in his 2011 book Down and Delirious in Mexico City. Definitely not a tour book, and not exactly a memoir, it's a collection of essays exploring the city's different subcultures. Punks, emos, fashionistas, hipsters, cholos, religious, etc. are among the observed. Meanwhile Hernandez, a San Diego native, explores his own relationship with these urban tribes.

We come along for the ride as he learns to embrace the city's passion, electricity, history, chaos and violence. Hernandez is not afraid to tour a neighborhood that used to be a trash dump to see the origins of Mexico City punk, risk his health in a sweat lodge ritual, or interview emos at a metro station as an anti-emo wave sweeps Mexico. Along the way we meet fashion designer/party boy Quetzal, late night bar companion Susana, and yellow and orange haired muse/philosopher Denise. Like an older brother Hernandez patiently explains the facts of life here -- kidnappings, street-level hustling, Santa Muerte, pollution, class differences -- at a level even a middle-class American who's never set foot in Mexico might understand.

Some of Hernandez's more interesting observations come when he turns his journalistic eye on himself and his own identity as a U.S.-raised Latino: "To capitalinos who know enough about what a U.S. upbringing produces -- our manner of walking, for one, quick and exasperated, our tentative Spanish, that starting pocho accent -- I am a gringo regardless of how dark my skin might be."

While he is technically an outsider, Hernandez appears quite at home in "the impossible megacity," which seems to satisfy his boundless appetite for excitement and new cultural horizons to explore.

The only things I didn't like about the collection are that I found it a little too focused on the hipster-esque side of the spectrum of Mexico City. *Another* interview with a fashion designer? The other thing is it seems like he wrote this for an audience who doesn't know a lick of Spanish and hasn't ever been near Mexico. If you've already traveled in Mexico, you will find some parts of the book very obvious. And using more Spanish (with translations, of course) would have brought the experience even closer, especially for those who know the language.

Despite this, Down and Delirious in Mexico City is a unique take on an amazing city. I highly recommend it, along with the author's blog.

This almost makes up for Qwikster

Dear Annette,
Thank you for being a Netflix member with a DVD subscription. As a gesture of thanks this holiday season, we'd like to offer you a free bonus DVD rental to supplement your DVD subscription. Simply click here to redeem.
We hope you enjoy this bonus, and Happy Holidays!
–Your friends at Netflix

On the other blog, thoughts about starting a Twitter account.

For Occupy, will 2012 = 1968? Interesting look ahead from New York magazine.

Stuart's take on Zooey Deschanel:

She is understated. Human. Even more so than Martin Freeman whose main crime is not being Simon Jones, which is odd because Zooey is neither Susan Sheridan or Sandra Dickinson. But unlike either of those her Trillian seems like someone you could meet at a party, fall for, but who'll ultimate leave with some other, spacey guy, unless she's in the mood to make you think better of yourself, work through your low-self esteem and one day make you cool.

Love the photo with the post (part of Review 2011, which you really should be reading). I'm starting to understand her appeal, though I wouldn't say I'm a fan. Thank you, Stu.

Dream

Claritin has been giving me weird dreams lately. Last night I had a dream that I knew was about death. I was riding in a van over a highway overpass, wearing a white robe. Then I was at an airport. I checked in at the counter, which resembled a regular baggage check-in and had red walls in the background. Funny thing was, there were no signs indicating the destination. There was no anxiety about it, though, just a peaceful and mildly happy feeling during the whole journey.

Maybe I need to take Claritin on a less regular basis.

Our Tragic Universe

Continuing my fascination with author Scarlett Thomas, I downloaded her latest sci-fi and chick lit blend, Our Tragic Universe.

This time our protagonist is Meg, an author of paperback novels and book reviews, who lives with an awful boyfriend and a dog named Bess (affectionately known as "B"). I've noticed that Thomas often has a claustrophobic quality in the setting of her novels. In PopCo, the protagonist is at a retreat with her coworkers she can't get away from. In The End of Mr. Y, it's a world inside your head that you have to make your way out of. In Our Tragic Universe, it's a foggy little seaside town, the relationship Meg seems to be stuck in, and a set of financial circumstances that prevent her ever getting around to doing what she really wants, which is to write her "real" novel (and find true love, of course).

Early on, Thomas sets up one of the central ideas of the novel in a (fictitious) book Meg reviews, The Science of Living Forever:

According to Kelsey Newman, the universe, which always was a computer, will, for one moment-- not even that -- be so dense and have so much energy that it will be able to compute anything at all. So why not simply program it to simulate another universe, a new one that will never end, and in which everyone can live happily ever after? This moment will be called the Omega Point, and, because it has the power to contain everything, will be indistinguishable from God.

The consequences of the Omega Point being that every human will be resurrected and never die again. But Newman gives an out of the Second World (the current universe we're living in) with the Road to Perfection, a sort of blueprint to get to heaven, attained only by "becoming truly yourself, and overcoming all your personal obstacles."

Hmm, it's all very New Age-y (and sketchy). Funny enough, it's based on a real theory by physicist Frank Tipler. The theory seems meant more as a jumping off point than anything else. No, Meg doesn't really buy into it. But how does she explain the seemingly supernatural occurrences in her life, which, it seems, are many?

Thomas also uses the "Omega Point" theory for winding discussion of story that continues throughout the book -- the "storyless story" versus the simplistic formula story of a paperback sci-fi novel, and the "storylines" that occur in real life.

And in this novel. Several times I wondered if this novel was a storyless story. It's not, but it is close to that. It has a dense, winding, talky, inconclusive way about it. It is frustrating for a reader not to get that emotional payoff at the end but I respect Thomas is trying to do something different from a conventional novel and not just forgetting to give it a true conclusion. There's less "happily ever after" here than in her other novels, which brings it closer to real life. Good if you like realism, bad if you're looking for an escape.

I liked Our Tragic Universe as a book of ideas. In that respect it matches the smartness of her other novels. Really an interesting discussion of the supernatural and fate and the idea of the story. And Thomas can't go wrong with writing a likable female lead who I wish was my best friend. But even for a close to storyless story I wished there was more of a sense of it being finished. Call me unsophisticated, but I wanted something *amazing* at the end, and I was left disappointed.

The Oprah phenomenon

Caitlin Flanagan has the best explanation of the Oprah phenomenon that I've read:

Oprah, more than any other broadcaster ever, understands the ways men can hurt women, and it is this knowledge—hard-earned and openly shared with her audience—that has allowed her to forge such a powerful bond with her fans. That she can move so easily between episodes about, on the one hand, rape and domestic violence and, on the other, shopping and decorating, demonstrates not a lack of focus but the fact that she understands the full equation of the female experience, in ways that few others before her have.

Really a great article that weaves together the full range of Oprah.

Bleak week

Last week was one of the worst in recent memory. I was facing a development that rocked the work boat to the extreme. Meanwhile most of my friends were facing different (and far worse) crises of their own, making me both sad for them and hesitant to burden them with my comparatively lightweight problems.

I feel so tired of the daily routine. And I've really been doubting myself, more than usual. I'm not half as important as I used to think I was. I have stopped thinking I'm smart. I've never thought I was pretty. I don't know how to write anymore. I am lonely and don't think I'm a good friend to anybody.

I don't really like November. Cold and cloudy, short days, winter jackets. The cold months get me down, this year is no exception.

I'm definitely entering a new chapter of my life, work-wise. Things are not going to be the same, and it's not really by choice but I have to deal. Not only at work but otherwise, too. I started up my 30 things blog with the idea that I'd try some new things, and I have. I've done more than I've written about, actually. I've read through Walden again and got myself a Twitter account, I've run a 5K and listened to some fantastic new (old) music. Joni Mitchell, where have you been all my life? It has been invigorating (until this week anyway, when everything came to a screeching halt) but it's also been a thoughtful time, where I haven't even cared if I've shut myself in the house for a whole day reading or listening to an album a couple of times. Sometimes I feel like the "solitary me" and the "work me" wouldn't get along if they met each other. I am two different people, I wonder if this is a bad thing?

I guess being sad sometimes is a natural part of life. I've dealt with it horribly, though, and I haven't been accepting of it as a process. I've blamed myself and berated myself. I haven't been honest about my emotions. Maybe the best thing to do is just be vulnerable and experience it then get over it, not fight it or try to cover it up with things like food or shopping or working too much. Then I will feel OK again.

Love this from A Nun's Life - Madonna wanted to be a nun at one point: "By time I was in the fifth grade, I knew I wanted to be either a nun or a movie star."

What's it like to run in a 5K? Read about it here.

Quote from the late Andy Rooney: "A writer's job is to tell the truth."

The tiredness continues. This morning I was really tired, like "I should not be awake, this might be dangerous" kind of tired. I woke up at 5 to go over my notes for the reading group tonight. Should I cut that out of my life, because it's too much work? I don't know. I don't want to.

I've also been getting into a routine of waking up with a jolt at 3 a.m. I am usually able to fall back asleep right away. Still, it is weird and I wish it didn't happen.

Anyway, I think sleep will be good medicine tomorrow. I promised myself not to start on the chores until noon.

Photos

Sleepy

I think I'd be a lot better at my job if I got an extra hour of sleep every night. I woke up today and thought, if I could just sleep in until 8 a.m. I would feel *so good.* But no, into the shower, point the blow dryer at my head, sit at the computer all day. I've discovered that napping after work just tricks you into thinking you can stay up until 10, thus making you feel even worse the next day. So it's just tiredness until the weekend. One day away. I don't drink coffee in the mornings, I'm starting to understand why so many people do...

My OWN addiction

I seriously think I could get addicted to OWN (the Oprah Winfrey Network, in case you didn't know). It just became available on basic cable. Yesterday I started watching "Our America with Lisa Ling." It was about transgender people. It was the second episode I've watched (the first was about faith healing) and I think it's a great show. A sensitive look at the issues without dumbing them down. "True Life" without any of the trashiness and actually featuring some people over 30.

Today I saw Lisa Ling tweet about Season 2, "The shows are AMAZING, I swear." If it was anyone else I might think they are super arrogant. But in this case Season 2 just might be AMAZING.

On my other blog: The Third Man.

From Netflix

Dear Annette,

It is clear that for many of our members two websites would make things more difficult, so we are going to keep Netflix as one place to go for streaming and DVDs.

This means no change: one website, one account, one password…in other words, no Qwikster.

While the July price change was necessary, we are now done with price changes.

We're constantly improving our streaming selection. We've recently added hundreds of movies from Paramount, Sony, Universal, Fox, Warner Bros., Lionsgate, MGM and Miramax. Plus, in the last couple of weeks alone, we've added over 3,500 TV episodes from ABC, NBC, FOX, CBS, USA, E!, Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, ABC Family, Discovery Channel, TLC, SyFy, A&E, History, and PBS.

We value you as a member, and we are committed to making Netflix the best place to get your movies & TV shows.

Respectfully,

The Netflix Team
........................................................................................................

Thank God!

On a different note, Qwikster sounds like a cute name for a hamster.

Five days off

I took five days off work this week. It's amazing how many of the "have to"s of life have gone away this week. I don't have to get up at 5:05 a.m. I don't have to drive home in afternoon traffic. I don't have to make a list of have tos and check each one off one by one.

I guess I've never really noticed how much anxiety every obligation creates. I've tried to notice this week when a knot of anxiety bubbles up. One did yesterday. I was waiting for my sister so we could go to lunch. She was ten minutes late. I started worrying, did she forget? What are we going to talk about? What if she doesn't like the restaurant I chose? I sat there on my bed, waiting, worrying.

Then I said to myself, why are you even worrying about this? Like I was talking to a small child I told myself to take ten deep breaths and get a glass of water. I don't have to do this. If my sister never arrives I could sit on my bed all day and no one would care. If she arrives two hours late, we'll go to lunch two hours late. Not like I'm on a schedule today. Something inside me let go and the worry floated away.

I checked my text messages. From my sister: "Of course I'm running late but I'll be there soon. :-) sorry, I suck."

I started playing a puzzle game on my iPod Touch. I hardly ever play games anymore. I think they can be a waste of time. Usually I have other stuff I deem more important. But not this week. I sat there and played it and enjoyed it. My sister came by at 1:30, we had a nice lunch then watched TV reruns (another thing I usually consider a time-waster but allowed myself to do this week).

I suppose this week just makes me question what are the things I really do need to do, that are worth some anxiety, and what are the things that I stress about when I shouldn't. Maybe there is a pathway out of anxiety somewhere in this week.

Day 2 of vacation and I'm looking to see if there is enough dust accumulated on my desk to make dusting worthwhile. I think the answer is yes. Darn.

Happiness for Life?

What I wrote Tuesday:

I was looking forward to my two days off SO much, but the weird thing about days off is sometimes they are not any better than days at work. I can sleep late, so that's great. But is it really so much fun to make phone calls, and drive down to the courthouse and spend over $400 in a day, and not have anyone to talk to, and think about things too much?

I grudgingly admit that work is necessary. Often it is fulfilling. Sometimes it is fun.

It's a fallacy to think if I had enough money not to work for the rest of my life, then I'd be happy. It's easy to think that when I'm at work, tired at my desk from too many early mornings.

I wonder what the answer is to stress and anxiety. Those two monsters will never go away. But how can you manage them? But what can you do so life isn't just a reaction to one stress after another?

...

I wrote that and literally started to write, "Why am I unhappy?" and started thinking about the reasons.

Then the door bell rang. A man who looked about 19 or 20 was at the door. He wore a jacket, he was overweight and he had a friendly smile. He said he was a Christian student and was selling several books to make money for school.

The first was a cookbook full of healthy recipes. I looked at it to be polite but said I wasn't interested. So he showed me another book, a book of Christian inspirational stories with a poem on the back. I said I couldn't buy it because I've already spent too much money this month. (So true.)

Then he brought out a small book titled Happiness for Life. It had a hummingbird sucking nectar out of a flower on the cover. He said there was no charge for this one.

The title was so blaringly obvious I almost had to laugh. And yet I took the book the way a hungry fish takes the bait at the end of a fishing line. I gave him $2 out of my wallet for it (even though it was supposedly free), thanked him and sent him on his way with a bottle of water.

Is there really such a thing as happiness for life? Was this person God's messenger, sent with what I needed to hear? Or just a student selling books to make cash and selling people on a concept they want to believe exists?

To the author's credit the book is actually much less simplistic than I expected given the title. The chapters are about repentance, commitment, obedience and prayer. Nothing about how God wants you to have a million dollars or if you pray you will get whatever you want. The book is 61 pages (not two or five, like most religious tracts are), and thankfully doesn't include diagrams.

The final chapter is titled "Happiness for Life."

Was Jesus happy? Says the book, "It is often said that Jesus wept, but that He was never known to smile. Our Savior was indeed a Man of Sorrows, and acquainted with grief, for He opened His heart to all the woes of men."

As for happiness, "The life of those who imitate Him will be full of earnest purpose; they will have a deep sense of personal responsibility. Levity will be repressed; there will be no boisterous merriment, no rude jesting; but the religion of Jesus gives peace like a river."

Ack, personal responsibility.

"Happiness that is sought from selfish motives, outside of the path of duty, is ill-balanced, fitful, and transitory; it passes away, and the soul is filled with loneliness and sorrow; but there is joy and satisfaction in the service of God; the Christian is not left to walk in uncertain paths; he is not left to vain regrets and disappointments. If we do not have the pleasures of this life we may still be joyful in looking to the life beyond."

I believe it but Happiness for Life is a seriously deceptive title.

Green chile chicken

I made this recipe for dinner. Easy and quite tasty, though I wish the green chiles I had were hotter.

The White Album

I listened to The Beatles' White Album for the first time yesterday. It blew me away! If you've ever listened to it you know what I mean. Here's what I wrote about it on my other blog: http://30thingslist.blogspot.com/2011/09/29-listen-to-five-albums-i-dont-have-on.html

Interesting post on Undefined Value on iPhone vs. Android phones: "My biggest beef with Android is that the whole thing just feels like a second-rate knockoff of the iPhone and iPad, and I've never liked using second-rate products."

So I'm in the middle of what has turned out to be a busy week. I need some down time. I seriously need some sleep. I could have fallen asleep at my desk at about 2 p.m. today. A four-day weekend is coming up, which I am thankful for.

Netflix apology

I got a version of this e-mail early this morning from Netflix co-founder and CEO Reed Hastings. It begins, "I messed up. I owe everyone an explanation." He continues, "Companies rarely die from moving too fast, and they frequently die from moving too slowly. When Netflix is evolving rapidly, however, I need to be extra-communicative. This is the key thing I got wrong."

Um, yeah. Why didn't I get the e-mail about the price hike? And now I have to be subscribed to two services? I went into my Netflix account and changed my settings. Downgraded from three DVDs at a time to two. *grumbles* But what else am I going to do on a Saturday night?

This is reminding me of Facebook in an unpleasant way. But Mr. Hastings gets points because I know Mark Zuckerberg would never write a letter like this.

On my other blog: Rereading Walden, No. 11 on my list.

New phone

So I finally did something I probably should have done years ago: I got a new phone and joined a monthly plan. The phone is hardly an iPhone but it is loads more advanced than my old one. I love the wide display with its beach wallpaper, the keypad is easy to use, and the applications are conveniently placed on the home screen. The phone is a step up from the cheapest possible Nokia, but I thought it was worth it both for the (hopefully) better quality and because it avoids the look of cheapness.

I'm also excited about saving money under the new plan. Unlimited minutes and texting for a good price, much better than my old "pay as you go" plan.

My old phone was, well, let's just say it was old in 2005 when I got it. It's the kind of phone that got laughed at frequently. But I will always defend that old phone because it rarely let me down, which is why I held on to it for six years.

I will miss that phone for sentimental reasons, but it was definitely time for something new. I feel like I've moved forward in time 12 years.

The right words

My blog friend Stu has the right words for the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

- I've been contemplating buying a new car and selling mine, but the whole process just makes me happy to have my somewhat clunky, dependable old car, in the stylish light blue color.

- Two new fish have been added to the tank: a big black one and a small silver one, to replace two fish that passed on recently.

- Went to Chico's Tacos tonight. What stood out to me on this visit was the unpretentiousness of Chico's -- decent food at a cheap price, a clean (enough) and comfortable setting, a little music from the jukebox. No mystery to the menus, no waitstaff you need to tip, no dessert trays, no fancy flavored tea. I like Chico's.

- From one week to the next, it is undeniably fall. I thought I would never see the end to triple-digit temperatures.

- Seems I have been craving simplicity lately.

Here it is

Check out my new blog.

Random notes

- OK, so my texting addiction is dying down. I think I literally received three text messages last week. Now I feel like a pathetic loser but on the upside at least I'm not addicted.

- I'm looking at cars to buy. Latest was a Sonata with a V6 engine. I've never driven a V6. It's amazing how fast it goes from 0 to 60. I didn't buy it, due to the low miles per gallon. But it was fun to drive, plus it had a sun roof. I kinda wish I was into that sort of thing.

- Yesterday my contact lens tore while I was wearing it and I didn't have my glasses so I just had to wear it like that the whole day. Gosh, that is really irritating. By the end of the day I was ready to claw that thing out of my eye. Now I remember why I don't wear contacts all the time.

Lauren Bush marrying Ralph Lauren's son...do the math...Lauren Lauren? LOL.

I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone

Some perspective from Alanis Morissette, as heard yesterday on my car radio:

Feeling especially mean today after a week full of cynicism. Seemed like all my bad habits came home to roost this week. Do not want to relive this week.

I woke up 12 minutes late today. The alarm didn't ring, I think I forgot to set it. Luckily the internal clock was working and it was 12 minutes, not two hours.

Lunch at home

So I did something today that I rarely do: I went home for lunch. The drive is about 25 minutes each way. I get one hour for lunch...so that leaves about ten minutes to eat.

I had two somewhat stupid reasons for doing it -- bread and my cell phone. I left my cell phone on the charger at home. Not that big of a deal but without it you think, what if there's an emergency, what if I miss someone's text. So *sigh* I went home and got it (one person had texted me, but they had also e-mailed me, so what was the point of that?). Second reason, there was some delicious bread my mom had bought that I had wanted to pack in my lunch but didn't. And at 11 a.m. bread started to sound really, really good.

I was speeding slightly on the way home, lucky to avoid a wreck in a construction zone, which I would have seen as a punishment for this frivolous trip.

Twenty or so minutes past that I was finally home. Work is a hotbed of stress. Home is a light-filled quiet oasis of tranquility. The dog didn't even notice I was home until I went upstairs, then she offered her usual greeting and hung around as I warmed up beef stew. The bread did indeed taste good soaked in the stew. What I really wanted to do after lunch was go upstairs and take a nap.

But I didn't even have time to eat my orange before I left again. I did some more speeding down the highway, listening to Fresh Air and hoping I wouldn't be late, and I wasn't. I walked back into work at 12:30 on the dot.

Listened to this Fresh Air piece at lunchtime and was oddly spellbound by it:

Playing with unexpected flavors and scents plays a big part in (Grant) Achatz's kitchen. Some of Alinea's dishes are served alongside a pillow case with tiny holes in it, designed to release certain fragrances while diners eat.

"We've done firewood ashes, we've done leather, we've done grass," says Achatz. "There's a lot of smells that you can't necessarily consume. You're not going to go out and chew on a baseball glove. But, in a lot of ways, a lot of smells that aren't necessarily edible smell good, and they remind you of certain aspects of food. So making those associations with what smells good or smells a certain way and pairing that with actual edible ingredients is one avenue that we take creatively."

It's amazing that someone can design that kind of experience for a meal.

Liked this open letter to Sinead O'Connor on A Nun's Life blog, after O'Connor apparently said she was "in the peak of my sexual prime and way too lovely to be living like a nun":

I feel bad that this essence of a nun’s life has eluded you and that the joy and meaning that you seek seems to have been reduced to sex and a stubbily companion. While both of these things can truly be awesome, they are not what makes you who you are as a person. That starts from within.

Had my nails done yesterday. Woo, sparkly!

Here's my screensaver this morning:

Hard to believe I was there six weeks ago. But hurricane weather makes me think twice about my dream of living on the beach.

It's my day off, why the heck am I on a computer?

I just realized I have nothing interesting to link to now that I don't read TIME magazine anymore. Should I resubscribe? The other day someone asked me what I thought about the Gadhafi situation in Libya. I said I really didn't know that much about it. *So embarrassing* since I work for the news! But not international news. Still, one should at least have some understanding of world news just for awareness, even if it's not a big part of my work.

Things I wish I wasn't addicted to

- Skittles
- Texting

Some things I scribbled down in my journal last night:

Maybe what is lacking is a way to express myself, truly. If I could just have one moment of honesty with the world I would be happy. For that moment, anyway.

I think if one person could just see me for who I really am and see some goodness there I would be happy.

The week

So I made it to Saturday. I complained to just about everyone I know about having to work the weekend shift last week, then a regular five-day week this week, for a total of seven days in a row. The outrage. But is it really that big of a deal? I've done nine days in a row. And it's not like this is required of me that frequently.

But it did put a squeeze on my time, moreso than usual. I went out, tired, after work last Saturday, Thursday and Friday. The reasoning being if I don't force myself to go out after work then all the relationships I've built will wither up and die. I would try to pick things up the next week and it wouldn't be the same.

Is it so selfish to ask for a day to myself? Where I don't feel like a work robot? Where I don't feel obligated to be somewhere or that I have outstanding chores to do?

The past couple days I haven't even felt tired, I've felt that exhilaration that comes when you push through the tiredness and don't even care anymore.

Anyway, now that I've vented a little I feel better. I will clean the bathroom today (because it *really* needs it) then take some time to enjoy the rest of the weekend. "Enjoy" is a verb I need to become acquainted with again.

The weekend

A weekend of going to work...I think I'm used to the weekend shift by now. I tried not to think about the softball game and mornings of sleeping late that I missed. On the weekend you're more in control, which is both a good and bad thing.

I went to see "Underworld" at the Plaza Classic Film Festival yesterday. Silent film from 1927 with live music accompanying. Characters named Bull Weed, Feathers and Rolls Royce. Loved it. Watching a silent film all the way through is a unique experience. I haven't done it since film class in high school (and probably won't again until next year's film festival). But it's funny how you don't really miss the dialogue all that much. Isn't there some statistic that says 90 percent of communication is non-verbal? You can tell what's going on very easily.

I'm making rosemary and lemon chicken and spaghetti with tomato and basil sauce for dinner tonight. I squeezed the lemon juice by hand and bought fresh rosemary for the marinade. Hopefully it will be good. As for the sauce, I did buy canned tomatoes but the basil is fresh.

As I've said previously, it's nice not to work on a Thursday. Everything quiet. I don't feel the same urgency to do the household chores.

I'll write an update on how the dinner came out.

Update, as promised: The chicken came out quite good, if I do say so myself. Tender, lemony, the rosemary adding a nice note of flavor. Spaghetti was decent, though I tend to like things spicier. Some fresh parmesan made it better.

Review: Unbroken

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. The title is quite self-explanatory. And yet the story holds sharp turns, surprises, and descriptions of circumstances that will make your eyes pop out, all told through the unflinching prose of Laura Hillenbrand.

Our hero Louis Zamperini is a resourceful, mischievous, pie-stealing child of Italian parents in Torrance, California, and after that a college track star. He's even good enough to earn a spot in the 1936 Berlin Olympics.

But then the war begins and this becomes a different story, one of B-24 planes, the Pacific, and the Japanese.

The story takes a turn for the astounding when Louie's plane crashes, killing all but three aboard. How does he survive six weeks on a life raft in the Pacific, when food and water rations have run out, sharks are below and Japanese bombers threaten above? It seems literally impossible, forcing you to wonder, What are the limits of the human body? And even if the body survives, can the mind and spirit?

After that it becomes a POW story. It's different to hear the story of World War II from the eyes of a POW. The war to Louie becomes years of cruelty with no end in sight, in particular from one Japanese man who is bent on torturing him. News of battles is from new POWs and smuggled, translated newspapers. "Resilience" as a word doesn't begin to capture what kind of inner fortitude Louie and the other POWs needed to survive daily beatings, starvation, disease, and psychological torture.

And finally, there's redemption. Louie comes home from the war, begins drinking heavily, is tormented by nightmares, and is on the brink of divorce from his new wife. But his story couldn't end like that...could it? Again Louie averts a disastrous fate.

This is a fantastic work of nonfiction that deserves its spot on the bestseller list. It's a great story that is told very well -- with beautiful, flowing prose, and in a way that is inspirational but not saccharine. I am buying Laura Hillenbrand's next book.

I'm back at softball again. I didn't think I ever would be :-). After one season I'm OK to play right field and catcher (but only if the team doesn't have enough players, lol).

One can't be good at everything in life.

Movie meme

via feeling listless

1. Movie you love with a passion.
Say Anything. "I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that"

2. Movie you vow to never watch.
Black Swan. Too creepy.

3. Movie that literally left you speechless.
American Beauty. Will never watch this movie again if I can avoid it.

4. Movie you always recommend.
Cemetery Man.

5. Actor/actress you always watch, no matter how crappy the movie.
Russell Crowe / Toni Collette.

6. Actor/actress you don’t get the appeal for.
George Clooney / Jennifer Aniston. Don't these two play the same character in every movie, really?

7. Actor/actress, living or dead, you’d love to meet.
Kate Winslet / Daniel Radcliffe.

8. Sexiest actor/actress you’ve seen (with picture).


Gerard Butler.

9. Dream cast.
The Hours.

10. Favourite actor pairing.
Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

12. Favourite decade for movies?
Toss-up between '80s and 2000s.

13. Chick flick or action movie?
Chick flick. I think action movies can have so much "action" it's mind-numbing.

14. Hero, villain or anti-hero?
Anti-hero.

15. Black and white or colour?
Color.

The end

So the Boyfriend is no longer. The relationship terminated. Actually, more like dissolved slowly over the last months. In the end I didn't know which was more painful, keeping it going and feeling pretty miserable or ending it and being ALONE again.

Of all people, J.Lo had some wise words about a break-up: "To understand that a person is not good for you, or that the person is not treating you in the right way, or that he is not doing the right thing for himself if I stay, then I am not doing the right thing for me."

*Ugh* I think there is a point where it simply *cannot* go on longer. It seems inevitable for it to end. Trying to stop it is like trying to stop gravity. That's hard to accept, though. The good times of the relationship were really good. They made being alone seem like hell in comparison. On the other hand, the low times made being alone seem liberating. There's a simplicity to being single, a simplicity that seems welcome after awhile.

Part of the problem was I never felt like I could be my most natural self with him. He never saw me in glasses or frumpy work clothes, rarely without make-up. I pretended to be interested in beer, because he was. I didn't go into my long analyses of current events that I do with my friends, afraid I would bore him. I didn't talk about religion, afraid of the conflict it would cause. I never showed him this blog. To be fair, I suspect he may have also altered some things about himself trying to meet my expectations (which some might say are too high). I guess this is part of every relationship. But I suppose a long-lasting relationship means the person accepts you for what you are, mostly. What you are naturally is what pleases the other person. Like the song, "I love you just the way you are..."

We were far apart in many ways ... and I ignored it. We had different expectations for the relationship. In the end I was waiting for an "I love you" that never came.

Were the sweet times worth the hurt? Right now it seems like they just make the pain worse.

I'm sad, I'm hurt, I'm rejected, I'm angry. I'm punched in the stomach. The biggest question: Can I be happy being alone? I think the answer could be yes but it's going to take a while.

Haters

You know what? I get annoyed with people who say they hate El Paso, too. I get so tired of people saying I wish El Paso had [insert quality of life feature] like [insert bigger, wealthier city]. Or people here are so dumb, or rude, or you wish they spoke English and blah, blah, blah. *Of course* there's room for improvement, but if you're going to criticize, at least make it constructive. And if you really can't stand it, you can always move.

Life on the line

New York Times Magazine writer Andrew Rice takes on "life on the line" between El Paso and Juarez. It's always interesting to read an outsider's attempt to figure out what makes these two cities tick. He says the two cities "lie together uncomfortably like an estranged couple." In effect he's taking a snapshot of a region still in transition because of the drug war. It's undeniable that things have changed in El Paso in the past few years. "Nearly everyone I met in El Paso — whether they spoke Spanish or English, were liberal or conservative, rich or poor — told me the same thing: no one outside really understood this crisis they were living through," Rice says.

Downtown library

So I ventured to the Downtown library during my lunch hour today. Pretty nice place. Walking in it has a cafe with coffee, muffins, sodas, etc., an auditorium and even a used book store.

As far as the book selection, the bestsellers collection had Keith Richards' autobiography, a find compared to what's at the local branch. I looked for Room and the latest Scarlett Thomas novel but neither was available, unfortunately. I did run across an Alice Munro book I've sought for awhile. They had a borderland books area and copies of newspapers on microfiche, not for the casual user but something to keep in mind if I ever want to do some research.

When I asked where the biographies section was, a woman directed me to the basement. "Do you know where the stairs to the basement are?" I said no so she directed me there.

It was a strange little room with low ceilings and old men reading at the tables. I browsed through the lives of people A to Z but nothing really stood out to me in the five minutes I had before I had to go back to work.

I didn't check out any books this time but I probably will on my next visit.

10 years

Wow, my friend Stu's blog turns 10 years old today! Here's an interview we worked on to commemorate the occasion.

OMG, this is exciting! And for the record I loved "Hey Dude" when I was a kid.

TIME to make a decision

I'm considering letting my subscription to TIME magazine expire. I still like the magazine, and I've subscribed since I was 12 (yeah, I was a weird kid) but I'm thinking about hanging it up.

Some thoughts:

- If I'm being honest I tend to only read one or two articles from every issue, if that. I will sometimes throw an entire issue unread into the recycling bin, just because I don't have time to read it.

- I get three other print magazines per month with my Maghound subscription. Maybe I should focus on reading more of those? As of now I do not have time to read everything. I could get rid of Maghound, but it seems like a better value than a subscription to just one magazine.

- Maybe there are better weekly magazines out there to try -- the New Yorker, the Economist, Newsweek? Sometimes I am underwhelmed by the contents of TIME. On the other hand, sometimes they have great analysis that I end up linking to on the blog.

- I don't like TIME columnist Joel Stein.

- Yes, I could get all their content online for free, but I ask myself, would I ever visit TIME.com just to browse? The answer is probably not. I like the packaging the print magazine offers. I like that I can take it with me on my lunch break or read it before bed. I don't have an iPad and I don't think I'd like the Kindle edition since it's in black and white.

- If I didn't get TIME or another newsweekly, I would probably read even less national news than I do now (which is not much). Scary thought.

Anyone out there have any advice? I'd love to hear it.

First day back at work *sigh*

Florida

Four days and three nights on Florida's Gulf Coast. My sister and I had been planning the trip since February. I'd never been to Florida for a vacation, though I've been to a few beaches in my life -- Caribbean beaches on a cruise, the beach at Santa Monica in California last year, another LA beach on a family trip to California when I was a kid.

But when we arrived, the vastness of the ocean (er, Gulf of Mexico) still startled me. I sat on my beach towel on the white sand and just stared for a long time at the constant rush of waves, the whitecaps, the sea birds, the occasional fish jumping out of the water.

Then I had to go up and touch the water. I got in ankle-deep at first. A wave would wash up. As it washed away I could feel the wet sand sliding away under my feet. I got closer and took a look at what the wave was bringing in: groups of small fish, sand, shells, sea weed. Thankfully no trash and no jellyfish.

Eventually I sat back on my towel and started building a sand castle, collecting sea shells, and getting even more tan.

Yes, the beach was as wonderful as I could imagine.

It was also absolutely wonderful to stay at a place where you could fall asleep listening to the waves. The B&B was amazing.

Not so wonderful was the weather -- a rain storm continued for most of the day Monday. The weather finally cleared up in late afternoon and my sister and I ventured down to the inn's beach.

I brought my O magazine and came across a poem appropriate for the occasion: "Exultation is the going / Of an inland soul to sea..."

Yes, something like that. Hard to come back home knowing such a beautiful place is out there. I brought back a few shells, some white sand that lingered in my shoes and about a million photos reminding me there is joy and awe and wonder on the beach.

Crankiness on my last day of vacation

Today is my last day of vacation. I had such grand plans for the day, but instead ended up staying home until 4 p.m. as my car had some work done on it. OK, so I guess it was better for me to take care of this now instead of on a Saturday after a long week of work, but somehow I envisioned my vacation being this constant stream of fun and self-discovery, going places and doing new things, not watching "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest" on Netflix while waiting for the phone to ring.

Another thing - why does life have to be so expensive? $160 to have the transmission oil changed. I think I got ripped off. $10 to get the appropriate aquarium light bulb in hopes that another fish doesn't go belly up because of the wrong light. $27 to get photos printed. And a $20 Target gift card for my friend's birthday. I was going to buy a cover for the Kindle, but decided against it because the cheapest one was $30. Wow. OK, so I did end up splurging on a $4 candy bar today. I could do better as far as conserving money.

Anyway, I guess the lesson this week was life's annoyances don't end just because you are on vacation.

One of my fish passed on tonight. Wondering if the new fluorescent light bulb I installed in the tank had something to do with it.

The Kindle

The Kindle was a happy surprise birthday present from my sister this year. I would most likely not have ever bought one for myself. When it comes to gadgets I ask myself, do I really *need* x - an iPod Touch, a Nintendo DS, a new phone, a new desktop PC? Usually, the answer is no. On the other hand, "need" can be a relative term, since when you actually own the gadget, you wonder how you ever lived without it. No, I don't *need* a Kindle but it sure is cool.

Some notes on the Kindle, starting with the pros:

- It is more compact than I thought it would be. It's smaller and thinner than a standard-size paperback and very lightweight. I even took the Kindle to work by tucking it into a compartment in my purse. The Kindle is made to travel.

- Reading on the Kindle is different from reading on a computer screen or on my iPod. It feels eerily close to reading a book on paper, as in there is no glare on the screen and my eyes don't feel tired after reading it for over an hour. The "electronic ink" is genius.

- Battery power is great. I went a whole week without recharging it and probably could have gone longer.

- There's a huge selection of Kindle books on Amazon, delivered in less than a second to your Kindle with one-touch purchase. The Kindle is going to get me to buy more books, but I can't say that's a bad thing...

- Interesting that it shows you sections of books that other users have highlighted. It also prompts you to review the book once you've finished. Reading a book, usually a private experience, becomes more interactive (but not annoyingly so).

And some cons:

- The menu display is clunky compared with a touch screen. It relies on up or down buttons to select things. I think the designers (correctly) assumed most people would spend more time reading the e-book than going through the controls. This is probably the Kindle's biggest drawback, though for a person like me who's just using the device to read for fun, it's not a fatal flaw.

- The screen doesn't light up in the dark. This would be a nice feature since I like to read before bed.

- I don't really mind the lack of color, though it would be nice to see the book's cover in color.

- The Kindle vs. Nook, aka my e-reader is better than yours, thing annoys me. Wish I could buy Kindle books at Barnes & Noble.

It's kind of sad to think that e-readers mean the end of bookshelves full of books, bookmarks and loaning books to friends. On the other hand, now that I've actually tried the Kindle I don't think e-readers take much away from the old experience of reading a book. I'm impressed that the Kindle feels more like a book than a machine.

Back from the beach

An off week

So...this was an "off" week for me. First of all, I had a cold. I probably should have stayed home from work altogether Monday. Work becomes even more of a struggle when you're sick. I exhausted the box of tissues on my desk. I also erupted into coughing fits around my coworkers. Yuck.

I ended up being so sick and tired I didn't go out outside of work at all. I missed my softball game Sunday (as previously mentioned), missed church, missed seeing my dad, missed church home group. And the boyfriend was out of town.

I ended up doing a lot of reading. Followed by moping and thinking, I am the loneliest person in the world, and other self-destructive thoughts. It was sort of nice to have time for self-reflection but I do think problems can get bigger in your head when you're alone.

Anyway, the good news is the cold has passed now, and hopefully I won't have to be the "loneliest person in the world" again this next week.