today

I couldn’t sleep last night. I woke up after dreaming that Gus was eaten by a bear and I had “Counting 5-4-3-2-1” by Thursday in my head. I couldn’t get it out. So I tossed and turned and sung along silently. I stopped singing when I finally fell back asleep at 5:30. My alarm went off an hour later.

I’ve been watching too much Dog Whisperer. I love it, but it makes me have dreams about Gus and bears and Staffordshire Bull Terriers. I’ve also been watching too much Grey’s Anatomy. I may have rented the entire first season on two DVDs this weekend. I also may have watched it for five hours straight Friday night. Moreover, I may have gotten my neighbors involved. They came over last night to watch episodes six and seven (or was it seven and eight…)

And I stayed up past my bedtime. To finish watching. And then I slept horribly. And now, we have come full circle. Have a great Tuesday that feels like a Monday.

dog park

An open letter to the owner of the german shepherd that nearly took my life.

Dear Sir,

If your aggressive German Shepherd is not on a leash, please do not bother walking it. Because when it tries to attack me as I run by, you are too slow to respond. And I highly doubt that little red stick with a tennis ball on the end is really discipline enough for that dog that needs to be locked up, leashed up or let go. Don’t walk it down Nall — especially don’t walk it down the part with the narrow sidewalk, forcing me to run in the street toward oncoming traffic while my heart races because your dog is growling, barking and lurching at me. And then, when you yell at your dog to stop, and it does stop, don’t turn to me with a smile and a simple “I’m sorry.” Instead, grab a leash out of your pocket, put it on your dog and then say something about how stupid you are and how you never meant to walk your terrifying dog without a leash, and maybe how you were just so wrapped up in the beautiful day and the signs of summer approaching that you forgot to attach a leash to your dog’s collar. Then tell me how sorry you are, and maybe even offer to write me a check to pay me off for the emotional damage your dog caused. But don’t smile and laugh and say you’re sorry with a tone meant for a disciplining mother yelling at a child who clearly isn’t sorry. Don’t do that. And don’t walk your dog without a leash anymore.

Thanks,
Jessi

have you felt his absence?

you knew i was hardcore

but did you realize i was this hardcore? my sock and shoe after my sunday run. nice.

unbelievable

i have a huge problem with this.

junk

I heard someone say that we've all got junk but that those who manage it the best find the most happiness.

But is it really a job of managing, or is it bigger than that? I can manage my junk by dusting it off and polishing it. I can keep it looking nice for awhile. I can cover it in brilliant fabric or top it with pictures in frames of happy times and smiling people. I can present it to the world with a grin and a nod and for extra emphasis - a giggle. I can even dress it up and try to sell it in a garage sale. But managing junk isn't fixing it. It's the same problem with pain. When pain is intolerable and nothing helps it wane, morphine or something stronger is the prescription. And while it gets rid of the pain, it doesn't even touch the root. It doesn't fix the problem. And in the end, it leaves the pain-ridden groggy and confused.

Maybe those people who manage their junk best are really just the best liars. They think they've got it all under control when everything is messy right under the surface.


I don't feel the way I've ever felt.
I know.
I'm gonna smile and not get worried.
I try but it shows.
Anyone can make what I have built.
And better now.
Anyone can find the same white pills.
It takes my pain away.

It's a lie.
A kiss with open eyes.
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)

Nevermind these are hurried times.
Oh oh ohI can't let it bother me.
I never thought I'd walk away from you.
I did.
But it's a false sense of accomplishment.
Every time I quit.
Anyone can see my every flaw.
It isn't hard.
Anyone can say they're above this all.
It takes my pain away.
I can't let it bother me.
(Jimmy Eat World, Pain)

building walls with words

the books/publications on my desk:

A Prayer for Owen Meany ,by John Irving
Running with Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs
The Book of Dead Birds, by Gayle Brandeis
Mr. Apology, by Alec Wilkinson
How to Write, by Richard Rhodes
Working With Words – a handbook for media writers and editors (forth edition)
Words Fail Me, by Patricia T. O’Conner
Woe Is I, by Patricia T. O’Conner
The Elements of Style, by Strunk and White
How To Get Ideas, by Jack Foster
Eating the Angus Diet, by Dr. Angus
The Associated Press Stylebook 2001
Communication Arts (May/June 2006)

too good not to share

someone found me through a yahoo search for "getting rid of groundhog odor."

just thinking

lunchtime runners, downtown runners, middle-of-the-day runners, do you shower afterward?

i mean seriously. do you? are you out there, reading this? if so, tell me your secret. i would love to knock out my run over the lunch hour. but then, i'd be stinky and sweaty for the rest of the day. while this might be okay with me, i have a feeling my co-workers might not be so thrilled.

and so it is

I saw Blast this weekend. It was good. But it was also pretty annoying. The drum line stuff was fine, but the snare drum stuff was run-of-the-mill and showy. And then there were the overly excited ex-marching band audience members in their 50s who were way too vocal. Oh and the flag dancers. Probably the best flag dancers in the world or something, but at the end of the day, they’re still just the best flag dancers in the world. What can you really do with that skill?

Speaking of skill, I’ve always been on the fence about Blink 182. But I am not on the fence about Angels & Airwaves, Tom DeLonge’s new project. I love it. He’s all grown up and deep and pretty great really. He’s also a lot less whiny.

Now let’s talk about how network television is failing me. First, Chris gets voted of American Idol. I know. Shocking. So, I’m not watching that crap anymore. Then, Grey’s Anatomy offers up three hours of television genius in two days and then ends until the fall. I’m so sugar rush-high off the drama, the love triangle and the completely unethical medical practice that was displayed and not reprimanded that I’m not sure I can go an entire summer without finding out what happens. So many unanswered questions. So totally humiliating myself by admitting my obsession.

And in other, more normal news, I just got two new pair of running shoes in the mail. Now, I can start to rotate my shoes and they will last longer and I will be able to run farther and faster, which is important because marathon training starts June 5. Yesterday, I broke in the first pair and beat my normal 5-mile time by 2 ½ minutes. That’s right. Thank you, Asics

that's right.

you know. keeping it real.

okay, at least i know better than this.

i read a statistic claiming that 1 in 3 american idol viewers believes voting for the american idol is more important than voting for the president.

okay, despite the fact that it's possible 1 out of every 3 american idol viewers is not legally old enough to vote, i'm still sitting here with my mouth agape in horror.

speechless

i admit to liking amerian idol. but i only liked it for one reason - chris daughtry. that reason is gone now, and i will no longer watch the show filled with crappy talent and unfulfilled dreams. maybe he lost because i didn't vote. i'm not a voter - at least not for american idol. i vote for the president and for local elections and for things like that. but i just don't have time to sit by the phone trying to get through over and over and over. but maybe i should have. chris will get a record deal - he will. because he's great. period.

um, i totally know how high school this post sounds. forgive me once.

hurt

I read this. And I am trying to grasp what would fuel someone to do that to a child. And then I thought about how much someone would have to be hurting to inflict that much hurt on someone else. And it made me deeply sad. That's all.

you think?

um, who called this one?

.....and

happy blog anniversary to me. the craziness began may 4, 2005. thank you for reading, for commenting and for listening to my rants and thoughts and judgements and irrational fears. thank you for allowing me to use this format to vent and to be honest with my feelings and my words and with the state of my heart, which is not always perfect and beating. sometimes it's slower and drowning a little in the heaviness that i so often surround myself in. but other times, it's singing and beating so fast, i can hardly keep up. and if it's okay, i'll continue to write and to wax poetic about nothing and everything and anything in between.

bra talk

Man, that sucks when a nursing bra shows. Especially if it is opened. In other Cruise news, has the crash come? Perhaps.

And on a totally unrelated, but somewhat similar tangent - how many times can one "reinvent" the bra?

kaite (now kate) holmes is the queen of fashion

i know this is horrible. but it made me laugh without control. i needed this today. maybe you did to?

yes, i'm having a bad hair day.

I feel like a sloth. And I’m starting to really buy into the “you are what you eat” mantra. Today, I am a yogurt parfait. And it doesn’t feel that great. Worse, though, was Wednesday. Then, I was Tijuana nachos a Fat Tire and some white chocolate chips. It’s times like this when being a vegan is again an enticing option. Times like this week when I haven’t really had the time or the energy to work out. When I’ve only run 10 miles total and when I’m anticipating my lovely, most favorite time of the month. Times when I feel like a jiggly pound of raw ground beef. Or worse — a jiggly bowl full of chocolate instant pudding or maybe a bowl full of queso dip with a large side of deep-fried tortilla chips. Yesterday, I was the personification of that and a margarita and some soy crisp and peanut butter and a south beach diet granola bar and some candy. Then, believe it or not, I felt sick. All night. So I didn’t get to run or to go to the gym or to even take a walk. Instead, I slept. All evening and then I kept sleeping until it was later than I wanted to get up in the morning. The most exercise I’ve gotten lately was this morning when I was rushing to get ready due to the extra 40 minutes of sleep I allotted myself due to the nausea and lack of energy. And to top this all off, I’m having an awful, horrible, piece of crap hair day. It’s making me want to cut it short like it used to be. Back then, I didn’t have bad hair days. Bad days, yes, but they mostly weren’t fueled by bad hair. Bad hair days are some of the worst days.

stool sample, stool sample!!

I just talked to the vet about Gus’ poop problems. There are two things that could cause Gus to have difficulty “pinching off” a clean poo. The first would be if he was consuming a lot of grass. Apparently, a blade of grass can get stuck, allowing some residue to hang on for dear life. He does eat more grass than a cow, but I think I’m going to go with the option behind door number two — my Gussy could have a parasite. This is typically the case if the poo is runny, which it is. So, my next mission that will suck, but will probably make me stronger is to collect a sample, put it in a zip lock bag, put the zip lock bag in a paper sack, get in my car with the poo, roll down the windows and head off to the vet where it will be analyzed. Gus spends most of his time outside hunting for piles of rabbit crap. I was initially trepidacious of his new hobby, but a friend’s little dog does the same thing. So, I figured it was normal. It may be, but rabbit poop also carries parasites. Lovely.

(thanks to my old friend louie for the pic)

blah

i'm feeling uninspired. i got two migraines last week. two. and both of them sucked. a lot. and then i went to get a massage to try to work out some of the stress that settles in my neck and shoulders. it didn't help. she didn't push hard enough or in the right places. and i didn't feel right telling her how to do her job. i should have said something. so i paid $30 for 30 minutes of laying on a heated table in a dark room. i also had to go back to work with gel or oil or whatever it is she used all over my neck and back. i felt slimy.

i google searched the president of my high school senior class today. she is making bizarre art that includes footage of her, naked, painting with blood and meat. i have no words. none. i have some questions though. the first one goes something like "What the *##@!! ?"

and then there's the matter of Gus and what seems to be his pooping problem. he's been straining a lot when he tries to poop. it will look like he's gone and then he'll walk away from that spot in the yard only to attempt to poop again somewhere else. then, when he finally does come inside, i have to wipe his butt because there will be a little piece of dog doodoo hanging out. lovely, huh? it gets better. last night, nick let Gus in and didn't check for residue. i went to go put something in our bedroom and saw a little dot of dog poop ON THE FITTED SHEET complete with a few of Gus' dog hairs stuck in it. of course it would happen on a day i didn't make the bed.

so there you have it. i'm feeling uninspired. i was, however, immediately inspired to wash the heck out of the fitted sheet.

last weekend

We went to a benefit for Billy. (See him pictured above rocking the drums.) It was a late night, but it was so worth it.