Nothing but Flowers
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
I'd imagine most of you have figured this out (do I have readers any more?) but I'm pretty much retired from individual blogging. Leave it to the pros.

That said, you can find my occasional thoughts and bits of wisdom or inanity here

I should also add that I have found future employment. Email me for details. If you don't know my email, you probably don't need to know the details.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Joe Mantello takes Hedy to task!

this it the most awesomely scathing deconstruction of a review that I have ever seen.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Maybe it's a turn of the month thing
So, lets see. It has been a month since I blogged.

For starters, March sucked weather-wise.

Actually, I think that about covers the first few weeks: the weather sucked, routine continued. I went to work, went to class, took tests. Went to a conference in Toronto, where I ran into my high school TD. It was good to see him, but after a while we ran out of things to say, and he wasn't interested in going to a bar. Therefore all our conversations were in convention center hallways or while waiting for sessions. We promised on Wednesday night to meet up again, but come Saturday we hadn't crossed paths.

After Toronto I had "spring break". I didn't have class, but I did have work. Then the boy came into town for the weekend, which was fun. I went to brunch at the four seasons for Easter (highly recommended. They have a bloody mary station at the buffet). Then Tuesday AM I flew to Boston for an interview at the A.R.T.

What? I hear you asking. An interview at the A.R.T? For what?

well, for the position of Assistant General Manager

Oh, you say, wouldn't that be the PERFECT job for you? Isn't it what the last 4 years of your life have set you up for? And wouldn't it be a great step on the way toward your eventual goal of running a large non-profit regional theater?

Why yes, yes it would be. It would be perfect. They also had 74 applicants, so I'm not holding my breath.

But the interview seemed to go well. The more I talk about it, the more people tell me it went REALLY well, which mostly terrifies me more. It was almost 2 hours long, he did a lot of the talking. I had some really good extemp answers, and some just fine canned ones.

Hilariously when he asked me what my favorite A.R.T show was I discarded my canned answer, and instead went with Henry V. Remarkably--especially given that Henry V was some time in the mid-90's--I was able to call a lot about it, probably because I'd spent 10 minutes staring at the production photos in the theater lobby. But it turns out his son saw henry v "when he was about the same age you were when you saw king stag" (which I'd only referenced in my cover letter, but he remembered). I had somehow named the production that was hugely important to him and his family.

Soon after he brought up salary. He wanted to make sure I knew how "low" the salary was, and warned me that I should think about whether or not I could live off of it. I replied that I had looked up the salary ranges before submitting my application (which is true) and did not indicate that it was $10k higher than I make now. Of course, I'll have an MBA in a few months, so a raise is justified / expected, but I am still realistic about the fact that I work in theater. I'm impressed I managed to keep a straight face. Also, I know the cost of living in Boston could be different than in Chicago, but it can't be different enough to make a lack of tuition expense and a 10K raise feel nonexistent.

Then, to ice the cake, about an hour after I finally got back to the office yesterday morning I found an email from Blue Man Group wanting to interview me for a position I applied for with them (associate resident general manager in Vegas). So that's next thursday.

I probably won't get either job, but they are the first 2 I applied for, so I've gotten a huge ego boost.

My boss says I couldn't cut it in Vegas.I half applied for the job just to prove her wrong. Secretly I think she might be right, but I think it would be fun for a couple years.

I'm also now obsessed with The O.C. Blame Jon. I borrowed the first season DVDs from a friend, and have steadily worked my way through to disk 6. Along the way I've developed a massive crush on both Adam Brody and Peter Gallagher (well, I've had a crush on Peter Gallagher since I saw him in guys & dolls with nathan lane. It might be the eyebrows), a hatred of Mischa Barton, and a deepened sense of how hard it is to be rich.

Wait, I went to boarding school.

Speaking of boarding school! If you went to boarding school, know people who went to boarding school, or just enjoy a good read, I HIGHLY reccomend Prep. She pretty much covers all of it, right down to blasting madonna onto the quads during surprise days off. But what she really deeply gets is the interactions of class, money, sex, and teen angst.

My only irritation with the book is that it's an entire novel set at a boarding school and eating disorders don't come up. Now, I may have a personal bias here, but I challenge any of you who went to boarding school to come up with the names of 10 girls from any year that at no point had an eating disorder. I don't think it's possible. Sure, only a couple were school-wide obvious hospitalization level problems, but it was everywhere. And isn't mentioned in the book. But, of course, it's a novel. And a damn good one at that.

It's a long post now and I'm running late for the gym. I haven't been much lately with all the travelling, and I live in fear that one day will be my last day at the gym and I'll revert to my former state of sloth-dom.

In re-reading this post I'm tempted to remove that last paragraph. The psychological insights gathered from it's placement after the prior section is frightening. You'd think I'd have outgrown all that angst...but you'd be wrong.

The spellchecker still doesn't work on this thing (probably a firefox problem. I'll whine). SO please forgive my atrocious spelling.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Well, there's a lot to talk about, I suppose.

First, today Anna Deavere Smith visits. She'll be in my boss' office for several hours before a public presentation. I've only brought one copy of "fires in the mirror", and no west wing DVDs, so I'm feeling somewhat restrained. Also, I'm wearing a suit I haven't otherwise worn in the 21st century.

Second, it's a violent day in Chicago. a judge's family was slain. Possibly by people connected to white supremecist matt hale, who was convicted for trying to have her killed. but the media are trying pretty hard to downplay that. Plus, Lyric Opera Singer Found Slain in Home

I can't really do justice to any of that.

and thirdly, on a lighter note, the city and the tribune co have finally reached a deal to expand wrigley field. It includes putting a traffic light on my corner. Good thing I was planning on moving soon.

Perhaps I'll have pithy comments later. For now, off to work.
Friday, February 11, 2005
rest in peace Arthur Miller
Saturday, February 05, 2005
4 years and 44,500 miles ago, on a snowy February evening, I took possession of a state-of-the-art, quiet, fabulous, wonderful little green Toyota prius. It has always treated me well. I've kvetched endlessly about the high price of having a car in Chicago, I've whined about the idiosyncrasies of hybrid ownership. But I've never regretted having a strange, cutting-edge, car. Until today.

The idea that my 2001 Prius is still a novelty, still a freak, is somewhat disheartening as well. Sure, there are millions more hybrids on the road now then there were in 2001--when I was liable to get stopped at gas stations or red lights and asked endless questions about whether or not I had to plug it in (I don't). But you'd think that my 4-year old car would no longer be "future car", as friends used to call it.

I've had more than my fair share of flat tires (6, I think. Possibly 7. Toyota paid for 4 of them when I sent an angry letter with my lawyer-stepdad's address at the top), a few too many dents (3 have been repaired, several little ones remain). My poor car has been keyed, banged, treated with a bad cover-paint job from that time it was scraped by a red car, and suffered the indignity of carting around cases of empty diet coke cans (i.e. my trash).

I love my car. I hate my dealership.

First, there is the violation and indignity of the mechanic who calls me "Sweetie" or "beautiful", often with his arm around my shoulder. Who once left a message on a Saturday morning hoping that I was "sleeping like a beautiful little lamb, because you deserve some good beauty rest". Who followed me out of the dealership a couple weeks ago, with the lame excuse that I might have left "a cup, with a straw" on the counter.

Second, there is the location. It's the dealership closest to where I lived when I bought the car, and to where I work now. But it is more than 17 miles from where I live, in the middle of a neighborhood that the city has forgotten about.

Hell, the city has forgotten about much of the south side. The busses don't come when they should, and when they do come the drivers are overworked and tired, the patrons justifiably angry.

Anyway, I didn't switch dealerships at first because it was still close to work. When the warranty ran out I stopped going to a dealer anyway, but I never transferred my records or looked up a new phone number. So a couple weeks ago when I knew I needed to call a Toyota dealership, they were the only one I knew about.

I haven't called to complain about the harassment--and it clearly is the type of harassment I thought we'd outlawed in the '80's--because of a combination of shame, guilt, desire not to get someone fired, and because I really don't want to be the little white girl who accused the only black senior mechanic at the dealership (which is in a black neighborhood) of harassing her. Ridiculous, but...

As a side note, I opined (after taking the bus back from the dealership on a recent week) that many of the cities woes and racial disharmonies could be eased if Mayor Daley spent a day riding the CTA on the South Side. Listening to people, waiting with them, getting treated like shit with them, etc. Of course this will never happen, but it's fun to dream.

Oh, after riding the CTA he'd have to fix it. But the man tears up airports before breakfast, I'm sure he could fix public transit if he thought about it.

Anyway, a few weeks ago as I drove home from work all the scary warning lights came on in the computer screen in the center of the dashboard of my car.

If you've never been in a Prius, here's the deal. Speedometer/odometer, all that stuff, is digital and at eye level in the exact center of the car. Then embedded in the dashboard, with the heat controls (those are normal), is a little computer screen. I think it's about 6" square, but I'm not sure. Actually, it's probably not square. Anyway, it controls the radio/CD and would control the GPS system if I had it installed. But that would have been $5,000 extra and 6 months of wait time. As a retrofit it's about the same.

The computer, when not being used to change the radio station, has two information screen. One is a bar graph tracking MPG per 5 minutes, with info about historical MPG in the bottom (I'm at 41.4 MPG for the last 124 miles. Not bad, given the cold weather). The other is a diagram of icons representing the gas engine and the hybrid battery, showing what is powering the car at the current moment.

A few weeks ago as I was driving home, the bargraph suddenly blanked, and 3 new icons came on the screen, along with the check engine light. These were scary icons--a huge triangle with an exclamation point, and a little car icon with a big x through it. I pulled over and called the dealership.

Creepy guy (thought I didn't realize it was him at the time) told me not to worry, I couldn't do anything about it then and should bring my car in in the morning. I was--justifiably, I think-- worried about breaking down, but he assured me if I broke down he could come pick me up, put me in his truck, and take me home.

At the time, that comment was only vaguely creepy. Retrospectively it's downright terrifying.

Turns out my computer is busted. Need a new one, straight from Japan. It was ordered and arrived a couple weeks ago. Here's the sequence of events

a) phone call from the dealer telling me the part is in
b) I call and ask when I can come in, the woman says "anytime", without getting my name or checking
c) I call again--seems weird that she didn't check--and I'm told "any M-W-Th afternoon"
d) I call on a Wednesday afternoon, as I'm halfway to the dealership--just to check. They tell me I'll need to come in a morning, because there are only certain Prius certified techs, and at night they are the only guys on (meaning I can't monopolize them).
e) I ask if I can go on a Saturday. They say "absolutely, we open at 6:30am"
f) I bring the car early this AM
G) I'm told that they can't fix it today. I have to come back on Wednesday because, well, because they have to be on the phone with Toyota when they install it. and they aren't open on saturdays.

Let me get this straight: you have to install it while on the phone with Toyota?

not conforting. He ammended later to say "after we install it, we have to call and check with Toyota"

still not comforting. And they'll need to keep the car all day.

um, that just makes me really nervous. and angry. and frustrated.

just to name a few.

More later, I have to prep for a meeting.

Friday, February 04, 2005
This sort of sums up my feelings about neighborhood safety and the CPD in one little report. It's got the woman who is freaked out by the recent attacks, the absurd dimensions of the streets, and the outrageous parking fines.

I love it when Michael Riedel gets catty

Thursday, February 03, 2005
I think it is hard for me, a non-writer, to justify something as inherently narcissistic (did I spell that correctly? I doubt it) as keeping a regular public blog.
I'm not interested in sharing many personal details, I'm not particularly funny, I don't write particularly well, so really...
But there is something really fun about blogging for the world. So I'm not going to "Stop".

The thing is, any time I am really riled up about something in the world someone else has blogged it better, more professionally. And when I find something that EVERYONE MUST read, linking to it is fun, but directly emailing people who would find it amusing/profound is more effective. And when something momentous happens to me...well, then I suppose I'll blog it. Unless it's personal, in which case I will just call someone who cares.

I promise to continue to rant about terrible plays, and to link to articles when the spirit moves me. I promise to post here if/when I get a new job, and all of that.

On another note, I told my high school's alumni office that I would write a paragraph about my experience with drama in high school.
I have a couple reactions.
First, they clearly want something cheesy about how the drama teachers changed my life, or how I found my true calling while in high school, etc. I really don't want to write that. It's not really true, and would not be interesting to read or particularly helpful to the school.
Second, the phrasing of the email makes me really tempted to write about all the "drama" that has nothing to with theater.
Third, I have intensely mixed feelings about high school. I was miserable all the time. I was whiny and needy and half-alive...
Fourth, I don't think "sneaking up on to the flydeck above the catwalk to smoke cigarettes" really cuts it for the magazine. Not that I ever did that, but I wish I had.

I may just not do it. I'm incredibly busy this week. Last night was my only free evening, and I spent it screaming at the SOTU. I suppose I could have been working on it now, but as I began my study of procrastination in high school, it seems only appropriate to continue it now.

I thought I had exorcised those demons, but they just keep coming back.

I need to call my landlord and ask if I can get a 3 month extension on my lease. I'm supposed to sign the renewal by 2/11, and I really can't move by April 30th (which is when it is up). But at the same time, renewing for a year would be stupid, since I have no idea where I'll be living or working in 6 months.

I sense a panic attack coming.

On that note, off to the gym.

Monday, January 24, 2005 | The Oprah way | The Oprah way
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Health Care FSAs
I just ordered 3 boxes of contacs. Not all that surprising or odd, except

1) I don't need new contacs. I probably have enough to last until February or March
2) 3 boxes is a bizarre number to get, since each box is a 6 month supply for one eye

But as I'm sure those of you with FSAs understand, I have until Dec. 31st to use the rest of my pre-tax medical flexible spending account. Last year I bought glasses. Actually, last year I bought the frames in '03 and the lenses in '04 because I didn't have enough left in the '03 election to cover the actual glasses. My eyeglasses store had clearly done this before. It was all legit, especially since I didn't pick up the glasses until January but had to make a down payment in Dec.
ANyway, this year I have enough left for 3 boxes of contacs. I've looked through all the old receipts I could find, and only came up with $20 worth of eligible other expenses--1 copay & some contact solution.

Even after picking up more contact lenses than I can use in 9 months, however, I will still have $30 left that I have to spend by 12/31 or I lose it. There isn't enough time left in the month to schedule a dentist appointment (much as I really need one) and I already have doctor's appointments in January.

So my options are essentially anything you can buy in a drugstore that is healthcare related.

When I was on prescription medication it was much easier to spend this money. In fact, I never had enough. But now it's much harder. Suggestions welcome. Maybe the dentist will have a cancellation, my co-pay is $15. I could try for two appointments in 10 days.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
I think they saw a different play than I did...
Director finds Williams magic in 'One Arm'

Williams' One Arm packs a punch of pulp

I agree that David and Joe were great and that Reynaldo Rosales (recently of "She Hate Me") is v. v. v. hot.
What Corporate America Can't Build: A Sentence

I've been saying that for years now.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Best. Article. Ever
Thanks to Chicagoist for the link. Baby Jesus Snatched from Daley Plaza--Again. Also thanks to the Sun Times for their, as always, outstanding journalism.

Did I mention that on Saturday night, after the terrible play, I went to Citibank? And the previous customer hadn't logged out? and had a balance of over $32,000 in CHECKING? Good thing Citibank makes you enter your PIN a bajillion times, otherwise I might have been tempted to commit a felony. I was feeling rich, but my 3-days-post-payday checking balance was...well, move a few decimals and divide by 2 and you get the idea.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Note to self: When you know you have an 18 hour day at work, it is not necessary to go to the gym beforehand. In fact, it's totally masochistic and your workout will be sloppy due to the extra-early hour and anticipation of a long day.

Theater review: About Face/Steppenwolf/Tectonic's stage production of Tennessee Williams' unproduced screenplay about a one-armed boxer-turned-gay-hustler as reinterpreted by Moises Kauffman is everything you would expect.

-Act one had 15 people, numerous sets, lots of costumes, and all that production jazz. Act 2 had three characters and took place in a prison cell. 2 plays for the price of one. And worth every dollar I spent on my comp ticket.

-The story depends on a male lead who is beautiful and vulnerable. All the other characters say he's beautiful and vulnerable, but that doesn't quite carry it. And the actor, most recently of Spike Lee's She Hate Me, is in fact quite attractive. And looks really nice naked. But I never quite cared about him. And he didn't seem all that vulnerable (maybe because he had an AWFUL accent). There was simply no reason to believe that this man would receive 7,800 letters in prison.

-I think the story came about because Tennessee Williams had a one-night stand with a one-armed hustler and decided to invent a story for him.

-If I heard "I only have one arm!" one more time, I would have screamed. I mean, duh. The play is called One Arm. (Actually, my program says "Tennessee Williams' One Arm", which is much funnier). The performer doing the voice-overs and film directions (another gimmick that didn't work) told us he only had one arm. And the actor only used one arm, the other limply hanging (as the voice-over told us to suspend disbelief).

-The only women in the play are: strippers, prostitutes, porn stars, 1 nurse, and "woman on boat" with whom Ollie has a one-night stand. None of the women were important. I suppose the production staff probably would disagree with that, but my note to them is: nothing about the women as they are staged/presented makes me think that women are at all relevant to this story. I know Ollie is straight. That's clear from his interactions with the various men. It is also clear from his conversations early in the play (pre-one arm) and so on. You don't need to totally devalue the female gender to make that point. And if the one woman who has lines is supposed to prove that he's a good guy, well then she shouldn't be such a simp--or he should go back and see her again.

-The ending is, I think, supposed to be redemptive. It isn't.

-Was that enormous set really necessary? The only part used in Act 2 was a staircase and a DC platform.

Despite all those critiques, I was very impressed with the performances, the sound design (because Andre is fabulous), and other aspects of the production. It was a noble effort, but there's a reason the movie was never made -- and it isn't just the attention to male hustlers and nudity.

I think I was just astounded that I saw a play that was in some ways really awful but did not feature a single bad performance.

Apparently they had 5 hours of rehearsal scheduled for today, which is (theoretically) opening. A Steppenwolf first.

And now for something completely different...

Embarassing moment of the week:
At the gym Friday morning (at, as alluded to above, an ungodly hour) a woman stopped me on the way to the locker room: Her: Heidi? I thought I recognized you! How are you? You look fabulous! Are you still working at the theater?
Me: Hi! It's so good to see you, haven't seen you in...years. Yes, I am, I'm also part-time at the B-school, I'll graduate in June. And you?
Her: I'm back in the MAPH program. Worst decision of my life.
Me: And before MAPH?
Her: Remember? Teaching high school and coaching cross-country at a prep school
Me: Oh, right, of course. I remember now.
Her: Every time I've seen you here I've wanted to say hi, but you always seem so focused.
Me: Or exhausted. Hey, we should hang out some time
Her: Absolutely. Are you in a rush or do you want to grab a juice and catch up?
Me: I've actually got to run to work, but maybe another time?
Her: Sounds great. I'm here most mornings, and as far as I can tell you are too!
Me: yeah, so I'm sure I'll see you.

Is it abundantly clear that I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HER NAME IS?
I'm about 80% sure that she lived in my dorm.
There's also, however, about a 5% chance that we were in a class together, a 5% chance that she did theater, a 5% chance that she was an AOPI, and a 5% chance that we didn't actually go to college together. I'm pretty sure I'd know if I knew her from theater or the sorority, but beyond that...
I related this to someone, and he said "yeah, but you can't possibly remember everyone from your dorm". Which was comforting, except... my college house was one of the smallest on campus. We had about 80 people, about 70 of whom ever left their rooms, and I was house president and social chair and inter-house-council rep. Oh, and it was single-sex by floor. So if we were in the same dorm, we were also on the same floor. Probably for two years. (I didn't really know any of the people who moved in my second year except the ones I was an orientation leader for, and she isn't one of them).

This is why I'll make a terrible politician.

I think one could forgive me for being so awful about remembering names and faces if I actually knew a lot of people. But I don't. I'm very shy and insular. I've never had very many friends, I've never spent a lot of time party-hopping. So someone who knows me well enough to remember my name several years after I last saw her has to be someone I knew relatively well.

It looks like I'll be in NYC Dec. 18-21, though I'm still confirming plans. On the "want to see" list are Pacific Overtures, Wicked, and Democracy. Let me know if a) you are in NY and will be available for coffee or a drink and b) if you think my list of shows needs amending.

Yesterday I had my nails done and went grocery shopping. Today I have not left the apartment except to do laundry (outside, down the back stairs, down the alley to the other side of the building, into the laundry room. Doesn't really count). I'm so glad to be done with finals.

As a last note, however, you'd think that since I didn't leave the apartment I would have accomplished something useful--paid some bills, washed the dishes, something. Nope. Laundry. Cleaned a little, folded laundry. Read. Played civ III. Talked on the phone. Looked at (but did not buy) plane and train tickets.

It may sound frightfully boring, but it's amazingly relaxing.

Please forgive the long post. And also, the spell checker still isn't working. I can't decide if it's a blogger problem or a firefox problem, but I don't care. You can deal. :)

UPDATE: I got distracted from posting this by a phone call from my aunt. I will be at the evening performance of Pacific Overtures on Sunday Dec. 19th. Yay!!!!!! No plans yet for Saturday or Monday. Suggestions still welcome.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Monday morning when I walked to my car, I discovered that it had been side-swiped over night. The drivers-side mirror was hanging limply from an electrical cord, and the car looked very dejected and sad.
I called Geico and filed a claim, they set me up with an appointment for this morning at a body shop and guaranteed a rental car.

I arrived at Pat's hi-tech auto body at 8:02am. Which was pretty impressive since it is 5 blocks north and 5 miles west of me and I didn't get out of my house until 7:40.

I was met my Ulysses "Chris" from Geico. He did a quick appraisal, said "Friday, probably" and had me sign some forms. then I met with someone from the auto body place and showed them the car. Then I sat and waited for 30 minutes. Then I met with the auto shop man again and he gave me a list of "pre-existing damage" to sign off on. i.e. all the things that are wrong with my car that they aren't going to fix. The list is long: scratches on both rear side doors. A small dent on the passenger side door. Dents and scratches along the bumper. A missing piece of glass, about the size of a quarter, in my right tail light, more scratches...and so on. Made me feel like a bad mother.

then I met with Maureen from Enterprise. She had me sign a bunch of forms and showed me to my interim vehicle. A back two-door 2005 Chevy Cavalier.

i drove out of the garage and then paused so I could adjust the seats. This took about 10 minutes as the controls are not conveniently located. Ditto the side mirrors.

Drove on. Noticed a few things about the car that make it Not. For. Me.

First, the front windshield is angled very steeply. Perhaps because I am not very tall and like to sit close to the steering wheel (others criticize me for this all the time, but it is how I am comfortable) the steepness of the glass creates a distortion. So it feels a little like there is a blurry spot in the middle of my vision.
Next, the car is much less sensitive to braking and much more so to accelerating than my car. My little prius needs me only to think about braking before it gently slows, this one needs me to stomp. Created some interesting moments on the highway.
Third, the steering well is, I think, supposed to be ergonomic. But as many of you may know, I have perhaps the smallest hands seen on an adult woman of average (read average American) stature. So the wheel is wider exactly where I want to put my hands. Too wide. Not too wide for me to hold at all, but too wide for me to hold without tension in my hands. Not fun. See above comment on highway driving.
Fourth, I have no idea what the heck the different light setting mean. No idea if I left the lights on.
Finally, there is this weird feature, apparently new and exciting. When you turn the car off, the radio doesn't turn off. This took me a while to figure out. Actually, I had to read the manual. I was so confused.

Chalk it up to more reasons why owning a car is a just a huge pain.
Friday, November 12, 2004
My high school just sent me a condolence letter. For some reason that just was more than I could handle. Not sure why...probably because of my intensely mixed feelings about the whole experience, and also because it was the time in my life when I felt most defined by my family.
Don't get me wrong, the letter is nice. And I should "be assured that [my] grandfather's death will be featured in the next issue" of the alumni magazine.
Because, you know, I was worried.

If you have any thoughts about Oprah, email me. My final project for the class "Power and Influence in Organizations" is on Oprah. We have an argument and lots of research, but I'm having a lot of fun getting an informal survey of what people think about when they consider Oprah's sources of power. So I'm serious, email me.

Spellcheck still doesn't work. Might be a firefox thing.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Frank Rich: On 'Moral Values,' It's Blue in a Landslide
I have had several things to post in the last week or so, but now I forget them all.

My one basic point is that whoever is smiting my friends needs to stop. There has been far too much smiting recently.

By now you've heard that Arafat died, we're still fighting in Fallujah and the Peterson trial keeps having problems with its jury. Also, a former bodygaurd is suing Liza for assault and there's a new guy on Law&Order.

In other news, my boss has decided that she and I should go to the gym together. When I suggested 8am--my favorite time to work out--I did not expect her to agree. You see, she is not a morning person. She typically arrives at work between 11 and noon. She stays late, it's not that she doesn't work, but she is not a morning person. However, she agreed to meet me at 8, and was only 10 minutes late. She had so much fun she wants to do it again tomorrow. Partly because the gym is very crowded all of the afternoon and evening, but pretty empty in the morning, so it really is the only time that makes sense. Meeting her at the gym was fine. We didn't interact all that much, and I didn't feel like her presence in any way changed my routine.

But here's the thing: she told the rest of the people I work with who are regular gym rats that we should ALL go at the same time.

As I've told several people recently, if there is one thing I find more boring than going to the gym, it is talking about going to the gym (I recognize that is what I am doing right now. But please allow this minor hypocrisy). And if there is one thing that ignites my insecurities more than locker rooms, it is being given advice on what I should be doing at the gym by anyone other than a trained professional whom I have paid. For example, my co-worker saying "we SHOULD all go to the gym together [turns to me] I could give you a lot of pointers " leads me to snap back obnoxiously "I don't need your pointers Dan" Etc. Now, the thing is, I know Dan meant well. But he set off automatic defenses and alerts. I can't remember the rest of my response, but I know it was not aimed to please.

I don't like talking about it. I don't like acknowledging it. I've been making a concerted effort to work out more often since May. But I haven't told anyone at work that--why bother? Why discuss it? It's personal and boring. So they all assumed that yesterday was the first time I'd worked out in years. Right, because clearly I've lost weight by breathing differently. They've all commented on that, they could have made the logical assumptions. It's not really worth correcting them because either I'll get defensive and annoyed, or else I'll overexplain things that I really don't want to talk about.

That's my story. Now some fun links:

Heilpern gets on a high horse

The staying power of musicals

PS spell checker isn't working. I'm very very sorry.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
have I mentioned that


I think I speak for everyone I've talked to today when I say...
angry, sad, hurt, incredulous, numb.

Mostly numb.

It has been so awful for 4 years, and it's just going to get worse? Do people not live in the same country that I live in?

Or is it really just that people are pro-life and hate the gay?

I've been fighting back tears at work all day. Well, the whole 2 hours I've been here.

It's kind of pathetic. And apparently I can expect a concession speech at noon, CST.

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