Before:


During:




After:

I think I'll consider this morning's race as punishment for all the morally dubious things I've done over the past several months. First race of the season, and my time showed it. I wanted to start out w/a time comparable to what I finished w/last fall, but that didn't happen. I'm trying not to care, but I guess I do. I still hope I can finish in the fall w/a faster time than I finished w/last season, but I need to start doing some speedwork instead of just thinking about it.

Disappointing results aside, it was a beautiful morning. Probably 3/4 of the course was in the shade, and it was a fast (macadam) surface, which would have made for good times if I had actually been in shape. The first half of the course was harder than the second half, lots of hills. I'm looking forward to testing it again next year.

Catherine took some pictures of me before the race and I look absolutely surly. I'm not exactly a morning person, and at 7:30 a.m., I can't even fake being pleasant. I look slightly less angry in my after race pictures. I won my age group, even w/my lousy time, because hey, no one else my age likes to run, apparently. Too busy shopping at the outlet mall in Edinburgh, it would seem.

Red-faced by the river:

I'll join Francis in his happiness for the Supreme Court ruling. I think. I know I should be very happy, and I do hope it signals great changes, but after reading the dissenting opinionsy by Scalia and Thomas, I just feel depressed. I should have stopped at the concurrence by O'Connor (was I ever surprised).

I think I've recovered from this week's trip to Tell City, but I guess we're going back down on Monday. We really shouldn't have to, but my boss made a mistake, so we have to, and I guess that's all I can say about that. I am so tired of driving through Indiana! Tonight (late, after my Habitat training), we drive to Columbus (Indiana, not Ohio). Tomorrow we come home, then drive to Indy for a Fever game. Then we come home. Sunday, I drive to Indy for hockey. Then I come home. Monday, we drive to Tell City. Hopefully, we come home, although during the last two trips my boss all but fell asleep behind the wheel, so coming home is always kind of a hit-and-miss thing w/him driving.

Endure happy or endure sad? Let's try happy this weekend.

Kind moments to end an evening: arriving home after dark, we simply sat in the driveway, listened to a song we liked on the radio, and watched all the fireflies. Fireflies are almost proof that there is a god.

I should sleep well tonight. The double test is over, a little anti-climactic, I think. I was worked up to the point of wanting to throw up, but by the time we had to break boards, I was so worn out I couldn't be nervous anymore. The hapkido part of the test was abbreviated, which is good because none of us really knew what we were supposed to be doing, anyway. I'm bailing on hapkido as soon as possible, it is really hard on my wrist. The taekwondo part of the test went much better, except my pivot foot on the roundhouse kick. Really got to work on that. Broke my boards, bowed out, went home. Glad it's over, and I'll be glad to have my new belt.

Catherine is so funny. After I broke my second board I carried it over her to hold during the rest of the test, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. Just like a proud parent, probably some people there really did think she was my mom. Sooooo cute, she was. That's the kind of partner everyone should have. She even thanked me afterward for letting her come watch me test. How many spouses say, "Hey, thanks for letting me support you in all your weird hobbies" at the end of the day? I was proud that she was proud, so now I guess we're all proud.

Confidential to Palo Alto: Happy Birthday :)

And now I need to decide how I feel about Howard Dean. On one hand, I think he sounds good. On the other hand, he's still a Democrat, and I'm afraid that party has lost me for good. I can't with good conscience stand inside a party that did absolutely nothing to prevent U.S. war-mongering (amongst about a hundred thousand other political crimes) after Sept. 11, 2001. A group of weak people sitting on their hands, doing absolutely nothing to prevent the Bush administration from having its way with the world. Plus, what did the last Democratic administration do for me as a queer? Nothing. Clinton didn't even bother to show up to the March on Washington in 1992, probably because he knew he was about to sell us down the river w/don't ask, don't tell. And don't even get me started on Clinton and the so-called "Defense of Marriage Act."

Anyway, Howard Dean is going to have to work very, very hard to bring me back into the two party system, that's all I can say. Let's see if he's up to it.

When Marcela said she'd send me a couple of books on Chilean architecture, I had no idea she meant books that she herself had written. Very pleased to have my own copies of Las estancias magallánicas and Cuidades y arquitectura portuaria--Los puertos mayores del litoral chileno. I'm a little short on time, but I'm way excited about the station book. I'm interested in typologies as a concept, actually, and I'm looking forward to reading the section on the typology of the sheep station, starting w/Australia and New Zealand. Anyway, I feel doubly bad for taking so long to get that balloon frame book in the mail to her. I can't even give the excuse that I was writing on it and therefore couldn't send it in a timely fashion. It was just laziness on my part.

A dozen things to write about, no time to do it. I forgot my lunch, so I might as well jot some things down.

[good things]

• I finally got paid for my first two weeks of work. Thank god.
  
• Our beans, peas, tomatoes, and cucumbers all have blossoms. As long as I don't have to eat any of the resulting fruits or vegetables, I'm happy with their growth.
  
• I get one of Rob's dad's flowerpots. Too cool.
  
• I finally started writing again yesterday morning, scribbling on a pad while I was waiting for that freaking stupid Paycheck 7 update to run itself to death.
  

[bad things]

• I discovered that I get paid roughly $200 more per month working as a student employee for the FS than I do for teaching 5 classes as an adjunct. That's messed up.
  
• The baby rabbit ate the watermelon, and some bug got the eggplants. I don't really care about the eggplants because I'm not into the whole aubergine thing, anyway.
  
• I stopped writing again last night, totally discouraged after listening to Achy Obejas describe something as simple as taking a shower.
  
• I knew my parents weren't telling me the whole story last time I called. My mom said my dad was having "good days and bad days." I knew that was a rotten understatement. Pretty much in my family if someone says they have a paper cut, that means "I've severed a major artery." If they say they're not feeling well, they're really saying, "You'd better damn well call 911." So, I knew it was worse than they were saying. The optimistic part is, my dad saw the cardio-pulmonary guy in Wenatchee last Thursday and they're trying a new drug regimen. His care is being totally mishandled, and it pisses me off.
  
• Working for the gov't. Enough said.
  

[things that could go either way]

• I haven't had enough time to think about any of the Supreme Court decisions. I'm at least 1/2 way pleased w/the affirmative action ruling, but haven't been able to clear my mind long enough to consider the other half. And I really haven't been able to wrap my mind around the Holocaust/American Insurance Company ruling. Maybe this weekend. I'm anxious to hear what they rule on the sodomy issue on Thursday.
  
• No one in our household is applying for jobs in either Seattle or San Francisco, despite two weeks of discussion on the matter.
  
• Someone in our household applied for a job she may or may not want, that she may or may not get. The issue is tabled until the human resources office makes contact with us.
  
• Someone in our household is working on a new research project. The paper proposal is due September 1. It may or may not be co-authored by a) someone else in our household or b) a former colleague or c) all of the above.
  

Sort of a tag team intellectualism going on in our household this evening. While I was in one building listening to A. Loudermilk, Achy Obejas and Alison Hawthorne Deming, Catherine was in another listening to John d'Emilio and Martha Vicinus.

I don't know how Catherine felt about her evening, but mine was worth the trip to campus, even if I might have lost my stick bag rushing out of rehearsal (and more importantly, all the sticks and mallets it contained). I expected Achy Obejas to good, I've been hooked on her writing ever since her first collection of short stories came out, but the truth is, it was A. Loudermilk (aka Thomas C. Jones) who really blew me away. I could have listened to his poetry the entire evening. I've read a couple of his poems here and there--in The Gay and Lesbian Review, for instance--but now I'd like to gather up everything he's written and spend some quality time with it.

[past tense]
Sunday: drive to indy, play hockey, drive back. don't go to bed until almost midnight.
Monday: work all day, perform in a concert in the evening, don't get to bed until late.
Tueday: work all day, drive to indy, watch a basketball game, drive back. don't go to bed until almost midnight.
Wednesday: work all day, do two tkd/hkd workouts after work to make up for the one you missed on tuesday.
Thursday: drive to tell city and back. wonder who is going to fall asleep first, you or the driver. realize you don't have the energy to go to tkd even though you should.
Friday: work all day, collapse in exhaustion on the couch after your drum lesson. wait, you have to go running first, so do that, then collapse.
Saturday: perfom in a concert, cap off the night w/a five-hour dinner and coffee session w/a few friends. realize you're not going to get to bed early as planned.
Sunday: get up, run errands you've put off all week. perform in a concert in 80 degree weather. try to listen to your partner when she tells you that you haven't eaten anything yet today and you really should.

[future tense]
Sunday: come home dripping w/sweat, try to catch up on few things. drive to indy, play hockey, drive back. moan about being tired and dehydrated.
Monday: work all day, decide whether to be responsible and go to band rehearsal. if irresponsible, spend the evening on campus, listening to achy obejas.
Tuesday: work all day, go to one last tkd/hkd workout.
Wednesday: work all day, try not to think about double belt test this evening. don't get psyched out.
Thursday: work all day, think about crying.
Friday: work all day, go to habitat crew leader training after drum lesson. finish at 8 o'clock, drive to columbus, try to find a motel room.
Saturday: get to the road race by 7:15 a.m. run 5k. don't get psyched out. clean up, drive to indy, watch a basketball game, drive home.
Sunday: drive to Indy, play hockey, drive back. wonder how your life got so complicated. cry.

Today, I received in the mail a rather thick manila envelope from my aunt. I would have thought it was from my mother because of the handwriting, but I guess it makes sense that her handwriting is exactly like my mom's because they took the same Calvert School correspondence/home school lessons when they were children, and thus had Calvert script beat into them. Anyway, in the envelope was a photocopy of this totally fascinating piano book, A Simplified Method of Sacred Piano Playing, Evangelistic Style. Who knew there was an Evangelistic Style of playing the piano? No note or anything else from my aunt, just this copy of Leenetta Scott's piano book, copyright 1945. I'm kind of thinking this might be the book my mom and aunt had to use for piano lessons when they were kids, but I can't get through on the phone to ask my mom.

Even setting the evangelist hymn part of it aside, this is the strangest book I've ever seen. It makes no sense whatsoever. I play the piano passably well, and I can't figure out what the heck the author is taking about. This is some whacked out teaching method, that's for sure. I've been sitting here studying the introduction, and I do understand how her notation works now, but geez, wouldn't it have been easier to buy some staff paper and just teach the kids to read standard notation?

All I know is that I sure wouldn't want to play this during church.

I am so damned tired of trying to lose weight. I can play this game, try to convince myself it's all about being fit and a better athlete, but after a year and half of that story, my mind ceases to be fooled. It's all about the pounds, baby. To make matters oh-so-much worse, it's not even that I'm not losing weight, it's that I'm gaining weight. I seriously need to go have my shoulder checked out, it's totally fucked up, but I don't want to talk to my doctor about why I'm no longer losing weight, or worse, hear her nurse tell me exactly what number I can attach to my body right now.

It makes perfect sense that I've gained weight. I stopped playing hockey in March, sat still and depressed for two months, and didn't cut back on my caloric intake. Of course I gained weight. All I need to do is take another look at my eating habits, give my body time to transition to a new sport, work a little harder to get back on my running schedule, and be patient. Logically, that makes sense. Emotionally, it feels like one big lie, and all I have to look forward to the rest of my life is my mind trying to convince my body it needs to go away.

While I was out running in the park today, I passed (repeatedly) by this little girl on her bicycle, and everytime we passed, I wondered how she was going to handle her body when she got to be a teenager and an adult. You know you're old when you suddenly get the urge to talk to other people's kids and warn them about life: "Don't do drugs! Stay in school! Keep riding your bike! Don't talk to strangers! Don't ever, ever, ever, EVER go on a diet!" Anyway, she was such a cutie, smiling at me everytime we passed, and it made me a little sad, because by the time I was her age, I'd already stopped making eye contact with people, much less smiling at them. I hope she gets to keep her joy.

God, I hate the fact that I'm looking toward my 36th birthday and I'm still struggling w/the negative body image routine. That is so screwed up.

On the other hand....I think I impressed the wife this evening by dropping and giving her thirty push-ups on my knuckles. I guess my bulk is good for something.

Well...yeah. I do have to stop and wonder on occasion how I lucked out, ending up with Catherine. It's not that I think I'm *totally* unlovable, even I can see I have a few good points. I'm fairly intelligent, I do a good job at making people laugh, I'm pretty handy around the house, and my hair sticks up in an apparently very adorable way in the mornings. But I still have to wonder how it is that I haven't managed to drive Catherine off yet, especially since I've upped my nervous breakdown schedule from once a month to once every other day. It must drive her absolutely insane to have to drop everything she's doing to talk me back from the edge several times a week, but you wouldn't know it to listen to her. She's definitely the emotional caretaker of the household, and I keep expecting her to get tired of it, but she never seems to mind. I know I couldn't live with someone like me. Hell, most days I'd divorce myself if I could, and she's never even threatened it.

It boggles the mind.

How do straight women do it? I mean, how do they feel about going out on a date, getting into a car with a man about whom they know nothing, and heading off to who knows where?

Driving home from Tell City today, my boss decided to take the back roads instead of drive up 37. Which was fine with me, I'm willing to drive through the hollers as long as there isn't any banjo music playing in the background. As we were driving out in the middle of nowhere, though, I did have the passing thought that we were taking the back way so he'd have some place to dump the body after he murdered me. Not that I really seriously thought he was a serial killer--I'm sure he'd be horrified to realize I had even a moment of "wait a minute!" going through my head--but I suppose the possibility is always there.

Anyway, it made me think a bit about what it must be like to have to get into a car with a strange man and go out on a first date. You're going out with a friend of a friend of a friend, and what do you really know about the guy? It must be hard to willingly put yourself in such a vulnerable position time and time again. I'm not sure I could do it.

What do you learn when you work for the Forest Service? Yesterday, I learned how to make a meth lab. Well, I think I was supposed to be learning how to avoid getting hurt by a meth lab in case I stumble across one on forest, but really, the knowledge I took away from the safety meeting could be applied in a number of different ways.

The number one thing I learned about meth is: if you want to avoid meth users, avoid shopping at Walmart. Almost every story the guy told involved someone at Walmart. "If you see a guy standing in line at Walmart, and he's buying fifty cases of light bulbs, chances are good he's on meth." "If you're walking around Walmart and you see a guy holding 16 cans of cold engine starter even thought it's July, chances are, he's on meth." "If you're in Walmart and you notice all the blister packs of Sudafed have been emptied, chances are good a meth cooker took the pills." Lesson learned, stay away from Walmart.

And truly, I'm running out of angry words to send to my elected officials. Still plenty of topics, just nothing new left to say. However, it's not like they're listening, anyway, so I guess I can take a break.

Jumped.the.shark.

As long as I'm living with Catherine, I will never lack for headshots to send to my publicist. Scenes from a departure (before my concert this evening):

Day one vs. day twenty-seven. The most significant additions: the rabbit fence and the support strings for the beans and peas (designed after a cable stayed bridge--I knew watching Superbridge four times would come in handy). It keeps out the big rabbits, but yesterday I found the tiniest baby rabbit out by the garden. It could easily slip inside and have the biggest dinner.

About twenty seconds before they started biting each other: