One more day of work, I think I can make it. I spent my lunchtime walking around downtown, as I sometimes do. I went to San Jacinto Plaza specifically to see the new monument to presidents Taft and Diaz meeting in El Paso. I like to see the Mills Building and the progress of the big parking garage. Things are happening downtown, that is exciting.

I sometimes wonder if there's anything that makes me interesting anymore. Hence the walks downtown and the reading of books at my lunch hour. Trying to put the interesting-ness back into my life.

I've posted 1,001 times to this blog. This is 1,002.

I wonder if there's a measurement for how much less tired you are by waking up 15 minutes later? It's a little experiment I'm trying.

I was mesmerized by yesterday's Oprah. Really, what an amazing story.

Fasting, part 3

Last day of fasting. I really didn't feel hungry this morning, maybe because I had a feast of brownies and ice cream the night before. I was also too late for work to think about my lack of breakfast much. I have to admit that not eating breakfast is a time saver.

I didn't feel starved before I ate my lunch of sandwich and fruit. But as the afternoon wore on I did feel hungrier than usual. I almost caved and bought one of my coworkers' chocolate bars that she sells to raise money. But I thought, while not technically breaking the fast, no, that would not be in keeping with the spirit of it. Then my other coworker delivered about ten boxes of Girl Scout cookies to another coworker. Oh, torture, I wanted to stuff my face with thin mints. But I resisted the junk food and am currently waiting to eat a healthful dinner.

I'm happy to be done with fasting, even though in its own way fasting is sort of addictive. You get a little dizzy, you do feel "holier-than-thou" when you see people around you eating normally or eating too much. And OK, I'll admit it, weight loss is not a bad benefit. But I don't feel like I got into the praying component of praying-and-fasting enough so that it was truly a means to get closer to God. I think feeling smug about your holy actions isn't what Christianity is about, and that is the feeling I got while fasting.

I was in Las Cruces yesterday. My sister and I ordered bubble tea and she gave me advice about dating. I listened and didn't say anything. Actually, I said, "I think I'm going to be old and just have a lot of dogs." Yeah, I think that sums it up right now.

I went to this bookstore, which was cool but I decided against buying anything. Funny, I downloaded a FreeBooks app on my iPod touch that has a mind-boggling array of books available to download, and now I wonder how long real live bookstores are going to be around.

Time goes by so fast on the weekend. I always envision myself spending a few hours on the weekend getting lost in music or in books and magazines, but it usually doesn't happen like that. I'm visiting people or doing chores or too amped up to just sit, which is what I do all week. My main accomplishment today was doing laundry. Ha ha, that is funny but also not funny. At least I actually went somewhere this weekend, even if it was just to Cruces.

Oh Saturday, so full of possibilities...

Purchased this weekend on iTunes

"Chasing Pavements" by Adele
"Back on the Chain Gang" by the Pretenders
"Forever Young" by Bob Dylan
"Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)" by George Harrison
"Dance the Night Away" by Van Halen

Fasting, part 2

Second morning I fasted. It wasn't so bad this time, maybe because I got in some exercise this morning and thereby raised my metabolism some. I didn't feel that hungry, that is until lunchtime when I dug into a large turkey club sandwich and ate more of it than I usually would. Then still felt like I could eat more during the afternoon. Oh no.

Once again I didn't spend the whole morning praying, but before I left for work I did have a moment of refocusing. Like, one morning a week, can't I stop grumbling and stop thinking of gratifying myself and instead think of others and of God? I need to refocus like that more often.

Review: PopCo

PopCo is the kind of book that makes you think. Shouldn't all books do this? Yeah, I've read other books that made me think about big corporations and environmentalism and exploitation of Third World workers. But it's a rare novel that also ties in cryptanalysis, Gödel, and the Monty Hall paradox. Let's also reminisce about being a teenage girl and unpopular, shall we? Scarlett Thomas does know how to make me wince but in a good way. My only complaint is the ending feels a little too simple for a novel that until that point I thought was pretty complex.

Someone stole my sandwich from the work refrigerator AGAIN yesterday. Lesson: Never leave a peanut butter sandwich in there. I ended up paying $11.74 for a sandwich and coffee at a Downtown coffee shop. I waited about a half hour to get my sandwich. I find the sandwich thief irritating but mildly amusing. Kind of disturbing to think, though, if someone will just steal someone's lunch like that, what else will they steal?

I found this piece in Time to be pretty mean but I can't say I don't agree: "The very existence of her website suggests Paltrow assumes we are eager to sit at her knee. She has said she wants to share the wealth of opportunities she's had — from talking novels with Christy Turlington to staying at the best hotels — and she does, magnanimously, in e-mail newsletters signed, 'love, GP.' The implication is, Of course you'd like to be me."

Finally, something at Quizno's I enjoy: the chicken caesar salad.

Fasting

My pastor is urging the entire church to fast during a three-week period. For those of us who are new to it, he said fasting one meal a week for three weeks would be OK. So I decided to do it today. I skipped breakfast. No oatmeal squares with milk today.

It's pretty weird to change your eating habits. I would say I'm a person who gets used to a certain routine and dislikes change, especially when it comes to eating and sleeping.

I think the fasting period had the intended effect, in that I felt groggy all morning. I watched with a newfound envy as my boss ate a banana during our morning meeting. It looked so good. I was afraid my coworker would offer me some of her caramel popcorn and I wouldn't be able to turn it down. But she didn't offer, which I suppose was good.

I usually take my lunch around 1:30 but by 12:15 today I felt lightheaded and like I might pass out if I didn't eat something. My body was going into that stage where it felt like it was eating itself. So I broke the fast and wolfed down my peanut butter and banana sandwich. I felt kind of bad about it, like I was caving in to the flesh while I was doing it. It's only a sandwich, not a sin!

I wonder how people don't eat breakfast. How do they function? I felt about 10 times worse than I usually do in the morning by not eating breakfast. I suppose you can get used to anything, though.

Did fasting bring me closer to God? I don't know. I successfully denied the flesh. I didn't eat for a specific purpose, and that purpose was not losing a few pounds. But I didn't have time to pray or read the Bible during the morning rush at work. I'm not sure if God appreciated what I did. I didn't hear a voice.

If I had the whole day off, maybe I could go through the whole fasting, praying and meditating sort of thing. But during a workday I just felt more hungry and tired than I usually do, not more enlightened. I think this time the purpose was more symbolic. I'm supposed to do this two more times. Is it terrible to say that I'm really not looking forward to doing it again?

Sunrise photo from earlier this week

"In Treatment: Season 2" may be the most brilliant TV I've ever watched, and I don't say that lightly. The deathbed scene and the plight of the child caught in his parents' divorce I found most affecting, but all five plotlines just grab your emotions and never let go. The last disc is triumphant for a change. Paul finally gets the upper hand, reaffirms the value of his occupation to himself and his patients and reminds us, if you don't recognize the patterns in your life, how can you ever hope to change?

So it's the end of the week and I barely feel human. No more work. Please. I don't want to talk, a couple of hours of TV time sounds really, really good right now.

Toddler in the lunchroom

There was a toddler in the lunchroom today, which is fairly unusual. Several of the female employees were hovered around him and the mom, who had a big stroller with her. He looked maybe two, cute little boy with brown hair dressed in a sweater vest.

I read the paper and kept to myself, eating my leftover beef and potatoes and then a yellow apple. A funny thing happened, though -- the toddler went past all the women making a fuss and his eyes landed directly on my apple. He stretched out his little arm like he wanted some. I didn't know what to do -- Give him the apple? Give him a piece of the apple (hard to do lacking a knife)? Fetch him a cookie instead? Somehow I think he liked the color of the apple and really wanted to play with it more than he actually wanted to eat it.

I ended up awkwardly covering up the apple with a paper towel and waited as one women went to look for a ball to distract the toddler. For a minute or so it looked like he might cry. *Oh no please don't cry* Fortunately he didn't. *whew* I know from babysitting experience that toddlers have short memories and he would probably soon be on to something else. Which was true, in this case.

Still, am I total jerk because I didn't give him the apple and instead ate it all myself? Am I lacking in maternal instinct or plain old generosity? It's the kind of situation I don't have the grace for but wish I did.

- Enough with January, already. I'm tired of the cold and driving home in the near-dark. I need some sunshine.

- I passed on the key lime pie at work today and I am glad I did.

- Inertia is a powerful thing. Hard to change the status quo, isn't it?

I probably should not have eaten half a box of jelly beans.

I can see the steam rising from the balcony as the snow melts.

It's 2011? Really?

It's snowing again

My new favorite at Starbucks: the caramel brulee latte.

I've been thinking about what would make me really happy in the new year, and the thing that popped into my mind was writing. Sometimes I think it's so stupid to write these posts that no one reads. To vent my emotions through writing when no one will listen seems like a personal failure to me sometimes.

I think about all the meetings and parties and dinners where I've sat silent and listened and just waited for it to be over after having given up hope of getting a word in edge-wise. Maybe this is a bad thing, but it seems my whole life I've had a different way of connecting. Writing is what makes me feel alive. This is where I can say what I want to say. This is where I can be myself. Even if it's stupid or needy I *need* to write.

It disappoints me that I have stopped developing as a writer. Being a writer is being an artist, it's developing your skill with practice and with reading and appreciating things that aren't crap. I can still write a paragraph (fortunately) but I feel like a tenth-grader could out-write me at this point.

I'm not sure what this means, if I'll do another month of writing a blog post every day, or start working on some long essay-type posts, or try to get published somewhere. But I think part of why I have felt so lifeless is because I've stopped writing. Time to wake up.

Favorite things I watched, read, listened to in 2010

(Yes, I know, not all of these were actually released in 2010):

Books

The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing

Lost in Translation: A Life in a New Language by Eva Hoffman

Where Men Win Glory by Jon Krakauer

The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway

Heaven: Our Enduring Fascination with the Afterlife by Lisa Miller

Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith by Kathleen Norris

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson

The Path to Power: The Years of Lyndon Johnson, Volume 1 by Robert A. Caro


Movies

Inception

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1

Broadcast News

Cemetery Man

Cinema Paradiso

The Best of Youth

The Social Network

Departures

District 9

Devil



TV

Prime Suspect

Top Chef

In Treatment

Chopped

Castle

Music

Yay for the year of the iPod Touch!

Begin to Hope by Regina Spektor

"Baby, I Love You" by Aretha Franklin

"Whatcha See Is Whatcha Get" by The Dramatics

Bach Double Violin Concerto

"Alejandro" by Lady Gaga

The Overture & The Underscore by Sarah Blasko

"Labios Compartidos" by Mana

Something I listened to on the drive home:

But Sister Anna Joseph Van Acker says she's weary of shallow relationships rooted in texting and Twitter — and finds the depth she's looking for in God. "He has the love you don't find by someone leaving a message on your Facebook wall," she says. "It's way better than someone saying, 'I'm eating pizza for dinner right now,' or whatever your Facebook status says right now. You don't get fulfilled by that. Ultimately, all you want is more. And here, we're thirsting for more, but we're constantly receiving more as well."

- Somehow the kitchen now has about a million cookies in it, and I feel obligated to help out by eating them. I think I might gain 10 lbs. by the end of the holidays.

- I had a super-productive day in which I cleaned the fish tank and the bathroom, did laundry, washed the car, and finished my Christmas shopping. Wow, I am usually more of a slacker.

- Mark Zuckerberg, Person of the Year. I have to say I don't see him as a likeable person, but then again my perception of him is based on his "60 Minutes" interview and Jesse Eisenberg's portrayal in "The Social Network." Also if there is something I find annoying or too intrusive about Facebook I always personally blame Mark Zuckerberg. I don't know if that is a fair thing to do...

Have a listen

Three-day weekend to look forward to. Ugh, why am I so cranky lately? I go to bed early but somehow feel like I never sleep enough.

I'm trying to be less of a Grinch: I signed up to make cookies for the office holiday party.

I complain sometimes but in all honesty 2010 turned out to be a pretty good year.

Maybe another resolution for 2011 should be to to post more links and more well-informed opinions and not just these tired musings. Oh, but how I love tired musings.

This is hilarious.

So I feel like I'm inching closer to being a recluse, despite a few attempts to engage. Another resolution, stop being a recluse, but it's hard to get motivated. I feel like I'm stunningly awkward when I try to talk. I can never say the right thing. I am tired of trying.

- What a creepy story.

- "Bea Arthur was a truck-driving Marine," says The Smoking Gun. Not explained is why she denied her service even when she was in her late 70s. Hmm...

- 140 page views this week. Thank you, Sun Bowl searchers.

It's taken me awhile to truly appreciate Christmas lights, but I think this is finally the year.

Any volunteers?

Something I've been thinking about lately: I should volunteer more. Maybe it's because I'm shy and not a natural leader but I tend not to volunteer for things. Looking for volunteers in the church nursery? No, I'm not good with kids. Money to buy winter coats for children? Nope, I'm trying to save. At work, looking for people to bring food for a potluck? Well, I could but what if people don't like what I make?

But then I think what a sad world it would be if everyone were like me. $0 to buy coats. No office potlucks. Nowhere for kids to go at church. I always assume "someone else will do it." Oh, that nice lady who doesn't have a regular job, she will do it. Those people making buckets of money will donate, my co-worker who's a lot bossier than me will take charge of the meal. But I know that's a bad attitude to take. Maybe someone will step up, but what if they don't?

I also kinda think volunteer projects are a lot for show and often to pad people's resumes, but even if they are for show, well, good things are still being accomplished. And many people do have a genuine spirit of generosity about the work.

So this is something to work on, an early New Year's resolution.

I had a conversation last night where I know I sounded really depressed. To the point where my friend asked me, "Are you OK? You seem down." And I said I'll be OK, I just need to sleep. Which was true, since I had one sleepless night this week, then worked the early shift Friday and was pretty wiped out by Friday night. Strange things start to happen when I don't sleep.

But I have to admit my emotional state hasn't been OK for awhile, and it goes beyond one sleepless night. I need to be more honest with myself than I've been.

I ask myself, what do I need to do to get out of this state? I make plans to do x, y, and z and hope they are the right prescription to move forward. That's all I can do, really.

My new favorite chore: handwashing sweaters.

Have you ever had something so good or so bad happen to you that you don't want to put it in writing, not even in a private journal? It's a rare feeling for me, since writing is what I typically use to cope. But some things I just don't want to relive, and others I just don't want to reduce to sentences. My version of speechlessness.

Water bottle

I left my water bottle at the coffee shop yesterday. I shouldn't have even brought it to the meeting but I was forced to take it inside since I was running late. I set the shiny green metal bottle with the black plastic top to my left side. I listened a lot, asked a few questions, laughed when appropriate, took a few notes. Then I left. I dropped the paper cup that had held my coffee into the trash, walked back to my car.

It was on the drive home that I realized I didn't have it. If I had it it would have been dumped on the passenger seat. At the stoplight I reached for it but didn't feel the cold metal. I even dipped my hand down to the floor of the car in front of the seat. Nope. Darn it, darn it, darn it, I am such an idiot.

I got home and I was dead tired but I forced myself to Google the number to the coffee shop. I told the guy where I was sitting, he went back to check but said he didn't find anything. *sighs*

It's just a water bottle, right, not like I lost my purse or wallet....but my mom gave the water bottle to me. It was an unexpected gift, she returned from Walmart one day and said, 'Which one do you like better, the green or the blue?' just like when I was a kid. A week earlier we had been talking about not using so many plastic water bottles during the week, and here she was being thoughtful. I knew these water bottles were not cheap. How could I be so stupid? I could only hope that one of the people in the meeting had picked it up and was possibly going to return it to me later.

And then today, well, that was exactly what happened. My co-worker strolls in, says I bet you didn't think you'd see this again. Aww, I could have hugged him. My faith in humanity (other than Mom, of course) is restored. Sometimes we mess up, and sometimes it turns out OK anyway. There is goodness in this life.

This is something I've often wondered about: Why are siblings' personalities so different? Here's an interesting theory I heard via NPR:

The second theory has a slightly confusing name; it's called the non-shared environment theory, and it essentially argues that though from the outside it appears that we are growing up in the same family as our siblings, in very important ways we really aren't. We are not experiencing the same thing.

"Children grow up in different families because most siblings differ in age, and so the timing with which you go through your family's [major events] is different," says Susan McHale, a researcher at Pennsylvania State University. "You know, a parent loses a job, parents get divorced. If you are three or five years behind your sibling, the experience of a 5-year-old whose parents get divorced is very different from the experience of a 9-year-old or a 10-year-old."

My lasagna is in the oven. Or should I say my attempt at making lasagna. I ran out of filling by the third layer. Oops. And who knew it would take so long to prepare? I started at 3:00 and got it in the oven at 4:30. Plus one hour of baking time. Which is why you'll never see lasagna on 30-Minute Meals.

Update: Lasagna turned out good but not exceptional. I think a Stouffer's ready-to-bake lasagna is about as good.

I ordered a fake gingerbread latte at Starbucks today: decaf with soy milk. Coffee without the buzz, it's not quite right...

Wow, so it *is* that time of year. Again. My blog friend Stu introduces Review 2010.

I'm alive, not dead.

I'm excited: In Treatment is back. Gabriel Byrne talks about why he hasn't gone to therapy himself: " 'This is the thing I have a problem with. Can you pay for true empathy? True intimacy, true empathy, true compassion. I have a problem saying, "Can I pay for that?" Should I pay for that? Shouldn’t I be finding those things in my life with people I know? Maybe that’s why I haven’t gone to therapy.' "

I finally bought a new black sweater today. My old sweater was getting pretty faded and had two buttons missing since last year when I started bringing it to work almost every day. Yes, every day, even in the summer, since the office is so cold all the time. I think it's time for my co-workers to see me in something new. Good-bye, sweater, you served me well.

Review: Where Men Win Glory

Where Men Win Glory, the biography of NFL player turned Army Ranger Pat Tillman who was killed by friendly fire in Afghanistan, is classic Jon Krakauer. Misunderstood subject with grand ideals? Check. Painstakingly documented journey? Check. Grisly and tragic ending? Check.

The book is a character study of Tillman, who Krakauer paints as super masculine yet soft hearted through research and interviews with family, friends, and fellow soldiers. Those around him said Tillman was a man who lived to challenge himself. He was a hard-driving if undersized safety for the Arizona Cardinals. After 9/11 he suspended his NFL career, giving up millions of dollars and a comfortable life with his wife Marie to fight in Afghanistan, where he would meet a horrible end.

Tillman doesn't come across as a saint (check out how much he curses), but he does seem like the rare person who was motivated primarily by principle rather than by money, power or fame. In the last chapter Krakauer compares Tillman to Friedrich Nietzsche's Ubermensch, "an exemplary, transcendent figure." In the end Tillman does seem like a sort of superman, a real-life hero of legend.

Besides chronicling Tillman's life, the author offers the clearest description of the lead-up to the war in Afghanistan I've read. Krakauer tackles the cover-up of the true cause of Tillman's death with ferocity, and it's truly stunning to learn about the details. It makes me wish all journalism could be like this, cutting straight through all the B.S. with a laser light. As with Krakauer's previous books, it's heartbreaking and gut-wrenching, but it's the truth.

Ahh, a day off. I was starting to forget what one of those feels like.

"Hope is the thing with feathers"

Gosh, I wish I didn't have to get up this early

"Why, my God, why"

Coffee shop show

Sunday night. I'm sitting at a coffee shop determined to inject some culture into my life. My sister V. and I find seats near the window on the corner of wooden table. On the other side of the shop a band is setting up to play.

While V. gets coffee for her and soda for me I examine three pieces of art, pages of newspaper with the Virgin Mary painted over them. Through the paint a headline is visible: "3 slain in Juárez." In one frame the section title of the page, "Borderland," has been modified with paint so it is now "Murderland." Art from a newspaper, hmm...

The bands start to play. We listen and don't actually see the bands since we don't want to surrender our seats. The first is high energy and pleasant, the second is totally forgettable. We actually get out of our seats for the third. The band is arty with jangling guitars that put me in a trance and lyrics that I can't really make out but seem esoteric. The lead singer looks about 20 and has red hair. After the set he mingles with the crowd. He points out to me and my sister that we have the same shoes (they're not the same, but both pairs are black flats).

This place is hipster central. Skinny jeans and carefully sloppy hair. I'd say average age is 21. It seems like a lot of people here know each other. Everyone's drinking beers in short rounded brown bottles.

The last band starts up. The band is called Women and when I first saw the show advertised I thought it was an all-female band. That would have been cool, but no, it's four guys from Canada. Like the band before they also start with the jangling guitars but every once in a while they whip out some amazing Beach Boys-style harmonies. Ooh, nice. I don't know crap about music but V. later points out that they sound a lot like My Morning Jacket.

It's late and my sister and I get going only partway through the set. She's heard enough and I've put in a full day at work and am really tired. We flee Hipsterville and drive home in Mom's car. Do I feel more cultured? Slightly. A few more of these and I might know something about it.

The secrets of Mad Men Season 4 finale revealed. Don never picks the smart one. Finale was good but I gotta say I didn't like this season quite as much as the previous ones.

So...I really need to update this thing. Friday, my second day back at work and I'm already tired. I guess that's what happens when you wake up shortly after 5 a.m. It was so dark I had to turn on all the lights while I was getting ready, and I even put my car heater on for the ride to work. I hate to admit it but it really does feel like October now :-(.

I'm up and I'm down and I'm both excited about life and cynical about its sameness.

I wonder how God would judge my life. If I'm wondering about it you know I can't be optimistic.

At the corn maze

Me trying to figure the way out of the Mesilla Valley Corn maze.

A pumpkin patch! Haven't seen one of those before.

Oh, Regina Spektor, she gets it every time *sighs*:
this is how it works
you're young until you're not
you love until you don't
you try until you can't
you laugh until you cry
you cry until you laugh
and everyone must breathe
until their dying breath

this is how it works
you peer inside yourself
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some--
someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood

and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again
on the radio
you hear november rain
that solo's awful long
but it's a nice refrain
you listen to it twice
cause the dj is asleep
on the radio...

Does this thing still work? Finally, on my day off, an hour when I don't feel so overwhelmed. And all I can think is that a nap would be really nice right now.

26 views of the site this week. I think it's a record low. Hello, anybody out there?

Love this. Aimee Mann so rocks:

In reference to last Saturday night

It was a Saturday night and I was tagging along with my dad and his significant other yet again, this time at a football game. For a fleeting moment I thought, wouldn't it be nice to have a guy, a real boyfriend, to take me out every Saturday night? A person to sit with and talk to and be affectionate with at games or movies or dinner or whatever. A Saturday night date. For a second it was the one thing I wanted, and I felt more lonely than I have in a long time, in the middle of this big crowd.

Yeah, I can list all the benefits of the single life: Going where you want, when you want to. Hanging out with a big group of friends and it not being weird. Not having to deal with the other person's psycho side. Not being jealous. Being able to pursue hobbies, interests, etc. Blah, blah, blah, but I'm still so damn lonely, as evidenced by moments above.

It's hard for me to see my single status changing. Partly because I see myself as perpetually ugly, despite any efforts to dress better or change my hair or whatever. My flirtation skills suck, I don't know how to meet men, don't know what to say to them. I'm possibly too educated for 98 percent of the men in this town. Most of the time on a Saturday night (when I'm not hanging out with my parents) I'll stay in and watch DVDs rather than call someone up. I don't really like nightclubs or bars. Actually, I would say I really dislike them.

Does that mean a future as the dog or cat lady? I mean, I know there are things I could try to change in the above paragraph, but do I really want to?

Thoughts jotted down last week:
- It's a rare person who really understands shyness. I think a person needs to understand that barrier to understand me, which is frustrating and I wish it weren't so.

- I regret sometimes that I'm not the computer programmer that my college education trained me to be. I see the missed $$, I wonder if that would have been a smarter career choice. I wonder if I gave up on something too quickly because I found it too hard, and maybe I should have stuck with it. But if I really am honest with myself I think I'm a whole lot more content where I am now than I likely would be in that theoretical programming job, where I probably would have been thinking right about now that I should have dared to go for something that better suits my talents and interests. Even if it doesn't pay as much and I don't get to feel like a nerdy smarter-than-everyone software engineer.

- If I complain so much about not having a "creative life" I should do something about it. I should *make* time for it, not wait for that time to fall into my lap because it will not.

Some interesting musings from Ben Casnocha. Apparently celibacy is the best option if you really want to get a lot done:

My thesis is that In a Relationship is just as much of a time and energy sink as Single and Looking. There are various reasons, but one big one. With Single and Looking there's a great deal of emotional energy spent contemplating your lack of dating success, there's stress around existing dates, and of course, wondering, "Is she interested? Am I interested? Do I play like I'm interested?" You spend a lot of cycles thinking about your dating life even when you're not going on dates.

This week's reading: "The Lady of Shallot":

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

Tuesday morning

I had Monday off then got into work Tuesday morning only for my boss to tell me I'm working the night shift the next two days. So there I was in my work outfit, a green and white polka-dot blouse and black slacks, make-up, faux pearl earrings, leaving the office at 8:15 a.m. What the heck am I going to do until 5:00? I went to the bank to withdraw money, then headed to Barnes and Noble.

I think 9 a.m. on a Tuesday may be the best time ever to go to the bookstore. It's quiet, the workers are there with the big rolling carts of books, making it seem pleasantly more like a library. I got a seat in the cafe! I ordered a green tea with vanilla and coconut, ooh, so soothing. I tried to get into this book but it wasn't happening for me after the first couple of chapters. So I bought this one instead, using the remainder of a gift card. I am just so darn literary, ha ha. Tuesday morning at Barnes and Noble, that will likely not happen again anytime soon.

I had such big plans for my day off...then my car battery died. *sighs* Time to call Dad.

Working too hard?

It's a constant tug-of-war with me. I wonder if I'm working too much or not enough.

Not enough -- I feel as if I'm not living up to whatever potential I have. I always feel behind at work, no matter what I do. I feel like I could be doing so much more. I've been working on a research project outside of work, and it feels really good. Like my brain is in gear. What other outside work projects could I realize if I made them a priority? But how many hours are there in a day?

Too much -- I'm constantly tired, I feel like I never have time to try something new. I've put my "creative life" on hold, as in the me who used to care about blogging and personal writing in general. The me who used to watch weird foreign films and seek out interesting experiences. I thought about taking a class, just to learn something I don't know about. Who has time for that, though?

So it's Sunday evening and it's nice not to be morphing into work mode about this time. Since I am not going to work tomorrow. I can't remember the last time I sat down to watch "60 Minutes," which until about a year ago was something I enjoyed doing every week. I don't know what changed but I almost never watch it now, though I still like the program in theory. Too much news in my life? Too much thinking about ironing and other worries about tomorrow, or do I just prefer the fictional "Mad Men" to spend the daily hour of TV time that I allow myself? I'm not sure what it is.

- What is in a Starbucks Vivanno smoothie: "mocha flavored sauce, a whole banana, milk, whey protein and fiber powder, and ice." 270 calories. I can't decide if this is a healthy food or not.

- I am so glad that it's the weekend.

- My allergies returned yesterday afternoon. Could it be because there's a slightly cooler note in the air? I had one more dose of Claritin. Time to buy another box.

Take time

My mom has posted this poem somewhere in every house we've had. I read it again today while I was doing my laundry:

Take Time
Take time to think...It is the source of power.
Take time to play...It is the secret of perpetual youth.
Take time to read...It is the fountain of wisdom.
Take time to pray...It is the greatest power on earth.
Take time to love and be loved...It is a God-given privilege.
Take time to be friendly...It is the road to happiness.
Take time to laugh...It is the music of the soul.
Take time to give...It is too short a day to be selfish.
Take time to work...It is the price of success.
Take time to do charity...It is the key to heaven.

Sometimes I feel like I only take the time for one of those items, that is the second to last one. I'm glad I took the time to read this poem today. Food for thought.

So I just spent $46 at Wal-Mart, which is kind of a lot for me, but for that amount I got the following:
- pesto ingredients that are usually expensive -- pinon nuts, parmesan cheese, basil leaves
- chicken
- six-pack of Miller Lite
- a copy of "The Girl Who Played with Fire" ($5.97, wow)
- eggs, fruit, turkey lunch meat, etc.

Not a bad deal at Wal-Mart. And it wasn't that crowded considering it was a Saturday morning. I waited in line less than 10 minutes.

Today feels very fall-ish. Excitement tinged with sadness. I have a hard time saying goodbye to summer.

A fish dies

So the day I was dreading came yesterday. One of my fish died (or more accurately, my sister's fish). It was the fish I liked the most, Molly, the balloon-bellied molly. I had deemed her the extrovert of the group, since she (he?) was always first to appear at the surface of the water when I dropped in the fish food. She seemed like a friendly fish, if you can say such a thing about a fish.

Anyway, I saw the fish body floating in one place for too long a time. My fear was confirmed when I looked in at the tank. I told Mom and she watched as I scooped her up in the green net. I wrapped the body in a few layers of toilet paper and flushed.

I think this is the worst part of having fish, not cleaning the tank or buying new filters. I haven't gotten a hold of my sister, I don't want to tell her the bad news. Not like I cried but it is sad.

My favorite observation from today's visit: "She said Obama smelled of subtle cologne when he hugged her."

Lazy Saturday/book review

I had the best intentions today of dusting and vacuuming the whole house. That didn't happen. I did manage to do my laundry, pay some bills online and return my two-weeks overdue library books. One of the books had a section falling out of it that was not falling out when I checked out the book. I felt horribly guilty about this and confessed to it at the checkout counter rather than just dropping the book in the bookdrop.

The now falling-apart book I read was called Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith by Kathleen Norris. From the Publisher's Weekly review:

When poet Norris (The Cloister Walk) found her way back into church in the early 1980s, she was unsettled by what she calls the "vaguely threatening and dauntingly abstract" vocabulary of the church. Many of the words, like "Christ," seemed to her code words churchgoers used out of convenience when they could not find other words to use. Other words?like "salvation," "conversion," and "dogma"?seemed to Norris to be too abstract to reflect meaningfully her own experience. In this "vocabulary of faith," Norris draws upon her considerable poetic skills to refashion the vocabulary of the church into her own religious vocabulary. In each of these meditations, Norris uses anecdotes and humor to invest these words with fresh meanings.

It's a fantastic idea for a book, though I think Norris is uneven in her execution of it. She sometimes follows through to perfection, and other times seems to miss the mark with chapters that seem way too short, offering anecdotes that seem too lightweight given the immense baggage attached to some of these words.

Still, I enjoyed the tone of this book versus one written by a clergy member or professor, in the way it combines academic knowledge with personal reflection. She often delves into Greek word origins and into the spirituality of Benedictine monks, with whom she has apparently spent a lot of time. Hmm, interesting. Norris also acknowledges doubt and her agnostic past, which I think is brave.

Yeah, it's really too bad that this book is so battered up for the next person.

One day I will write a real blog post again.

Video: Two dogs

Something new for me: I recorded my own video. I'm taking care of my dad's two dogs, Maggie and Auggie, for the week. Maggie is the large wolf-like one, Auggie is the small poodle-like one. I didn't know Maggie's crunching would come through so loud.

Recipe for grilled salmon. Mmm...

Eat Pray Love the movie

There were plenty of people at the 10:30 a.m. showing of "Eat Pray Love," many of them women who traveled to the theater alone, just like me. I kind of wished we could form an impromptu discussion group after the movie was over.

I was divided over the book, enjoying it as a travelogue enough to overcome my philosophical differences with the author, namely that I can't really applaud a story that involves walking away from a marriage, going on a solo journey to find yourself, then at the end, well, falling in love with another guy. It does seem like a very Hollywood story in that way, that the end of every journey must involve falling in love. But who says you have to be in perfect sync with the author's worldview to enjoy a book?

Anyway, getting back to the movie...I did think Julia Roberts looked the part of the smart, likeable author and played miserable and exuberant equally well. And as much as I hate to admit it, the movie was much more effective than the book at transporting me to plates of delicious Italian food, the floors of an ashram in India, and finally to the beaches of Bali.

I do wish Hollywood could do as much justice to the "pray" part as it does to the "eat" and "love" parts. It mostly just shows her being frustrated with it and making some friends at the ashram, skipping the electric sort of meditation experience she has in the book. I wonder why. Are moviegoeers that uncomfortable with spirituality?

No, a movie can't possibly match the intimacy of a book. And no, they didn't rewrite the story to my liking. Still, I'll take a beautiful-looking movie about self-discovery over an action flick any time.

The Dry Land at the Plaza

Yesterday I got to see a screening of "The Dry Land" at the Plaza Theatre. I originally bought the tickets because, well, America Ferrera was going to be there! I've admired her work ever since "Real Women Have Curves." Second I like to see projects that talented current or former El Pasoans are doing. The director, Ryan Piers Williams, graduated from Hanks High School, and I remembered that last year parts of the movie were filmed here. Yay for El Paso.

But as for the movie itself, I didn't know what to expect. I knew it was about post-traumatic stress disorder, but I didn't expect it to be quite so jarring. There are scenes so brutal I know they would never make it into a mainstream movie. A woman in the row in front of me wiped tears from her eyes a few times. The man sitting next to me covered his ears whenever a shotgun blast seemed imminent (which was a few times).

I thought about the thousands of soldiers stationed at Fort Bliss, and some of the scary situations that have made headlines lately. Sometimes I forget the power of film to educate and raise awareness, not merely entertain. I've browsed through many articles like this over the past few years, but I think this film finally made the issue of PTSD personal and three-dimensional.

I was impressed that the director really seemed to have his heart in the right place with this film. During the Q&A he said five years of research went into the film, and I think it shows in the details of the settings, the characters, and the portrayal of the symptoms of PTSD and how the characters react to it.

"The Dry Land," go see it if you can.

So what day is it again? As I was leaving work I was happy thinking I had just completed my Wednesday.

This is pretty cool:

There is a world beyond the computer...

Yum

I made combination brownie-chocolate chip cookie bars last night. So delicious, my gosh:

Interview with Univisión anchor Jorge Ramos: "The U.S. is the largest Spanish-speaking country in the world, with the exception of Mexico. It means — and I am completely convinced of this — that the first Hispanic President has already been born."

- I'm trying to decide if I should shell out the money for Microsoft Office since my trial version is about to expire. I downloaded OpenOffice and it seems to work pretty well. I think I could live without Microsoft Word, but I do want to have PowerPoint around just in case I ever have to do a presentation. But how often does that happen?

- I'm unusually happy for a Monday night since I don't have to work tomorrow. Two days off, one day working, two more days off. Now there's a schedule. Maybe I can write another post tomorrow instead of being a blog slacker?

Time once again to feel overwhelmed. Sometimes I think I might as well be on Twitter since I don't have much to write, beyond a few sentences here or there.

I did my usual Friday night routine, which is to go out to dinner then fall into bed by 10 p.m. Unusual for me I woke up in the middle of the night, thinking of everything. I wandered into the loft area, sat in a big chair, thought, I have to make some changes. I have to decide what's important, forget about the rest...but not now, since I am soooo tired. I tried to read but I found my mind couldn't engage. As soon as I'd close my eyes for a second I'd start to fall asleep.

Can I just not require so damn much of myself? I have a finite amount of energy. I can't be perfect. I can't do it all. That is a fact.

Interesting look at both sides of the Arizona immigration law controversy.

Ooh, Mad Men returns tomorrow. What's up with Peggy Olson's hair? I'm resisting the urge to read the advance reviews.

Yet another adventure driving in the rain

The rainstorm came so suddenly this afternoon that one of my co-workers gasped and said, "Look outside" and ran to the window. A solid wall of water was rushing down the side of the building. The air was so white it looked like we were on the inside of a cloud. We were entertained for a few minutes before we all sat down and got back to work.

5:40 and I finally escaped work. Upstairs from my desk I had seen a couple of people walking through the parking lot under an umbrella. An umbrella would have been nice. Downstairs a crowd had gathered at the front door, waiting out the rain, I suppose. I didn't want to wait that long. I put a plastic bag on top of my head and walked fast. The rain wasn't so bad, it was the puddles that caused the problems. My black flats, nylons and the bottoms of my pants got soaked. These days I am afraid to ruin my clothes, and I was horrified at first but relaxed after I realized the water wouldn't really ruin them.

I drove through several fast-moving streams of water getting to the interstate. Looking back my rule *should* be, you can never be too cautious in a potentially dangerous driving situation. But honestly I was just tired and eager to get through this wet mess as quickly as possible. I was fording these streams without much thought.

I was waiting at a traffic light and saw a truck stopped in my lane ahead. A man was getting out of the truck. What's this guy doing? I thought. He got down into the water and propped up a construction sign that must have fallen in the rain, which otherwise all the traffic would have had to go around. Woo-hoo, this guy is my hero.

More rain-related fun on the way home: I narrowly missed getting hit by a pickup truck after traffic stopped suddenly in front of me and I made a quick lane change. Incidents like these make me debate in my mind whether I'm a bad driver or not. I'm a "bad" driver in the sense that I don't have good instincts for the physical act of driving. I'm a "good" driver in the sense that I usually follow traffic laws to the letter. That is, except when I am very eager to get home and start getting careless. Rain and rush hour, double reason to slow down.

The finale of my latest driving in the rain adventure: a rainbow.

Wouldn't it be cool if there were a pot of gold at the end of it, at the top of the mountain? But no pots of gold, instead another go at rush hour tomorrow.

My friend Stu has a nice review of "Inception" (WARNING: Don't read unless you've seen the movie!): "There are essentially two parallel stories; the heist and Cobb’s 'emotional journey'. Nolan’s trick is that one group of viewers may consider the heist to be the main story, the dark romance the sub-plot. For the rest of us, it’s the other way around."

Tonight's task: I made Rice Krispies treats, I mean Cheerios marshmallow treats. Meaning I substituted Cheerios for the Krispies in the recipe. The taste reminded me of Lucky Charms. It's pleasant enough but I think I still prefer the original.

Relax...I wish I could. I spent 43 hours in a nearly news-free zone, went to the movies, slept late, saw friends and relatives, ate some good food, and yet at this moment I don't feel rested. Maybe I need to try yoga or deep breathing exercises to get this knot of tension out of my chest. An extended vacation? I wish.

I really want to see this. Jesse Eisenberg seems a little too nice for this role, though:

Shopping at the iTunes store

Downloaded from iTunes this morning:
"One" by U2
"Bad Romance" by Lady GaGa
"Paradise City" by Guns 'n Roses
"Superstar" by the Carpenters
"I Love the Unknown" by Eef Barzelay

Love the nearly 7-minute version of "Paradise City" versus the radio version. I was trying to find a song to download that showcased Lady GaGa's more serious side...Um, does Lady GaGa have a song like that? I didn't find one. "Brown Eyes," maybe?

It's been such a long time since I listened to the Carpenters. I used to listen to their Greatest Hits over and over again when I was about 12 years old. "Long ago/And oh so far away/I fell in love with you/Before the second show..."

I have $8.66 left in my account. Any suggestions?

Are the French really "green"er than Americans? Not much, according to this columnist:
"But when it came to living greener, the French behaved pretty much like Americans. The plastic Evian bottle reigned and I did not see one reusable bottle the entire time I was there. I saw a chain of stores that sold only plastic wares, boldly named Plastiques. At the supermarket, I did notice an absence of plastic bags but the amount of packaging on products was insane."

- I'm trying to identify the lizards that live near my house. According to this article, they could be collared lizards.

- 9 a.m. today, I'm at work and realize there is a pretty large dried-up water stain from ironing on the left side of my pants. It's the kind of stain that if I tried to scrub it out in the bathroom I might have made it much worse. So I did nothing. I would like to believe that no one noticed it.

- I woke up last night because I felt suffocated by the hot, humid air. Thank God for the refrigerated air A/C. July is *not* my favorite month.

Yay, I can stop pretending to care about the World Cup now!

Colorado

Colorado must be heaven if you love climbing mountains and/or drinking beer. Too bad neither of those are my hobbies. Nevertheless I did have a good time taking in the scenery in Colorado.

I liked the cows and pianos on 16th Street but overall urban Colorado (Denver) didn't impress me much, especially when I saw a middle-aged couple wade into the fountain near the county building. Ugh, I could have lived without seeing that.

Good thing our final destination was not in the city but the mountains: Estes Park. Getting there was perilous. It was raining like crazy when my sister A. drove on the mountain roads at night. I prayed. But my sister is a capable driver, and we got there in one piece.


The next day was blue skies and sunshine, fortunately, and I was stunned when I took a short walk and saw the Rockies up close. In Colorado I questioned whether I had ever really seen mountains before. Mount Rainer, I suppose. The Franklins look like a few hills in comparison. I saw pine and aspen trees, ducks, chipmunks, even a couple of elk, exotic plants and animals for someone used to the desert.

Our inn was literally something out of a '40s novel. It was the sort of place you could spend a week with the family hiking in nice weather and playing cards in the library when it rained. It smells like the wood it's built out of, and like burnt firewood in the nights and mornings. No TVs in the rooms. I could see myself going there to work on a memoir, Reflections from the Mountain, or something like that.

Besides hiking we drove around and took a brewery tour, which I liked more than I expected, and saw the Stanley Hotel, the hotel on which the setting for Stephen King's The Shining is based. I didn't feel scared, maybe because I haven't seen the movie The Shining or read the book. But I honestly thought our inn would be a scarier place to be snowed in than The Stanley, since it's even more isolated.


It was a short trip and I left thinking there is so much more to Colorado. I got a few snapshots to take home, but I know there is a grand epic in those mountains for those who desire it. I want to go back with hiking boots, a tent, and a fishing pole.

Does anyone else think this is a crummy graduation speech? Do NOT major in philosophy, whatever you do. Come on, Anna Kendrick, couldn't you write something better?