Is That You John Wayne? Is This Me?

years ago i was looking for a job and a headhunter called me. none that is appropriate in the workplace, i responded. of course, that was before i met oscar. so he advised me to get one. why? i wondered. well, he said, something nice and american like Mary or Susan. why would i do that, again i wondered. turns out that, according to this man, most companies wouldn't hire me with my name. apparently it is too intimidating to a hirer to come across a name that is new to them. qualifications be damned, companies are willing to run their companies into the ground before they hire someone whose name they might have to learn to pronounce. perhaps if my name were Axkilling McMassmurderer, i may have considered this suggestion. instead, after telling this headhunter where to get off, i carried on with my life, for a few years.

then i was back on the job market and decided to try something out. i posted my resume and applied to jobs using two resumes. both were identical except one had pandave's name at the top and the other had susan's. within days susan had been contacted by several companies; pandave was ignored. not a single call. completely forgotten. pandave started to wonder how she would feel if susan was hired. how would pandave feel about ceasing to exist (at least from 9 to 5 and at holiday parties)? how would pandave feel about having to cover up her dreadlocks with a straight-haired "work-appropriate" wig. how long would it be before pandave ripped of the wig, jumped onto her desk and screamed "my name is not susan!"

so pandave annihilated susan before susan destroyed pandave. the working relationship had turned sour. pandave was becoming bitter and her self-confidence was eroding.

and now i am thinking of putting my resume out there and the ghost of susan whispers in pandave's ear. she shakes her head and says "i don't need you susan. pandave can do and be herself."
"i see," susan whispers, her wig tickling pandave's neck, "i'll stick around, just in case."

Be Still My Beating Heart...

i am in love. have been for a while so i know it must be real. i shouldn't be - he's no good for me but i know that to have him will bring me untold joy. he stands behind the glass and flirts with me. when i have begun to convince myself that i can do without him, that i can move on and forget him, he comes back to taunt me with his wonderful features. i can imagine stroking his smooth face and making all kinds of magical things happen. he is so beautiful and probably full of things i don't really need and yet my heart yearns to have him in my life. i have waited for months and months; waited to see if this is what i really want. the feelings grow stronger.

ipod touch, how and why do you do this to me? you know i don't need you, why do you make me want you? and as i turn away you hit me in my achilles heel. how can i resist your song?

"music is my boyfriend
music is my girlfriend
music is my daddy
music's my imaginary friend"

Can You See Me?

ok. so they have these fluorescent green pigs. but that's so yesterday's news because that happened a couple of years ago and, well they have glow in the dark fish and rabbits and god only knows what else. apparently all it takes is a little fluorescent protein and your world is an awesomely lit disco. i am not sure how fluorescent green proteins are made but i am sure it is all totally safe, or else the scientists wouldn't do it.

but the news news is that one of pigs had piglets and the piglets have glow in the dark powers too. i mean, they're not as cool as their mom; they only glow from their snouts, ears and trotters. that said though, it's still a savings in fluorescent green protein. recycling! being green is all the rage, don't you know?

but this is not just about how to be the coolest person under the strobe lights. it turns out that glow-in-the-dark piglets are the first step to breeding pigs for human transplant organs. and that's fine. we can multi-task. save lives while making life more awesome!

We Want The Funk!

yesterday i took my first bikram yoga class. i had heard about it, i had read about it and i had thought - hmmm... it would be nice to go one day. so i suppose yesterday was that day. first thing that hit me when i got into the studio? the funk. okay maybe the heat hit me first. but it was like a split second later when i thought - wow it's kinda funky in here. funky like my gym clothes the day after a super intense boxing class. sometimes i walk into the studio at the gym or at dance class and there is a shadow of this funk but let me tell you, at 100 degrees farenheit with no fans, body odour really gets the chance to come into its own. and then you know the first thing you have to do when you encounter this heat wall of human essence? breathe in deeply. over and over again.

and as i did i thought - so this is what they were thinking when they created funk. we want music so strong you can smell it. and... exhale.

Ok Ok I'm Going To Bed Now

i told myself i was going to ignore it all. i was going to stay out of it. i was going to watch sponge bob square pants. but then cnn was describing the rules of the iowa caucus and boy do people like to make everything complicated. you'd think all you had to do was vote for who you want but no... the throw in percentages and people standing in rooms and moving to the corner of their favourite candidate. and then some people get to vote again - which is kinda cool. i would so totally vote for the underdog just so i could say i got to vote twice in one election. looking at all of that i don't know why all of iowa isn't out voting tonight. it's just so much fun and convoluted and barely able to be understood.

and then results started coming in and then i was riveted. there was a basketball game going on but this was more exciting. i mean, for a while there no one knew how it was all going to turn out. and now it has turned and, well wow. first, thank you huckabee for letting me see just how well chuck norris is aging. even though she came third, has any woman done as well as hillary clinton in any american presidential primary election? thank you john edwards you do help the election become a better looking place. but barack obama? you rock. but please come on and make your dramatic history-making win speech soon because it's almost past my bedtime. and thanks for getting cnn to mention kenya in their primary election coverage. i tell you that obama is working miracles in so many amazing ways. hear my request...
speech! speech! speech!!!

Two, Four, Six, Eight! Who Do We Appreciate?

i stand on subway platforms a lot; almost every day, actually. i stand and, as i am waiting for my train, i look at the tracks and wonder why people insist on throwing trash there. there are always trashcans on the platform, why do they have to chuck trash onto the tracks where it hangs about, seemingly forever. i also stand and wonder which track is electrified. i have watched several breakdance movies from the 80s and one thing that has stuck with me since (apart from the moves i am yet to master) is how dangerous the tracks are and how easy it appears to be to get electrocuted on said tracks. oh yes, and then you have the big as cats rats that live there. they hang about and stare me down until, with a shiver that still leaves me dirty, i turn away and try to think of something else.

many times over the last year i have thought about the subway hero. a man who jumped onto aforementioned filthy, electrified and vermined tracks to save a guy's life. oh, did i mention that there was a train bearing down on them, and that he had to then roll the guy under and lie on those, yes, filthy, electrified and vermined tracks? yeah. i think about him often and wonder if i could ever be so brave. i mean this hero lay on top of the guy and covered him with his body, to keep him safe from the passing train. he just acted; didn't think twice. then he went to work. i was telling my brother about him and my brother looked on the tracks. they weren't even looking so bad that day and, well, what can one say?

today is the first anniversary of this amazing rescue and i say hurrah for people like Wesley Autrey and if we can't have more people like him, maybe cleaner, animal free subway tracks (if we HAVE to have animals, we don't mind rabbits) and big signs right on the electrified tracks. ooh, ooh, and trains with really high clearance.

How Things Change; How They Stay The Same

zip. 2007 just whipped by. i had barely gotten into the habit of using 2007 and now in about 17 minutes it will be 2008 already. you know what that means though? i get to reminisce again. and you know some of the best aspects of life involve strolling down memory lane. so here we go 2007:

i ran two half marathons. look out 2008, i think i have the bug.
i gained a scar and, thus, some street cred.
i fell even further behind on life. i have stopped keeping track of just how far.
i still dream of owning a mac.
i found a new tech love.
i finally used my scanner
i became addicted to more websites
i discovered the wonder that is the podcast.
i finished writing my first book
i reaffirmed how awesomely wrong i can be about people.
i went to zimbabwe, apparently the new home of the statue of liberty (yes, that is a not so private citizen's front yard)

though i am still working on doing what i resolved about 10 years ago, i do have things i intend to do in the new year - now about 4 minutes away - unless the microwave that is this world overheats and new york city drowns:

i am taking ski lessons (have already booked the first weekend)
i am going diving (as in scuba, not sky)
i am running in at least 2 races - hopefully full marathons this time
i will learn new things that may or may not help me live a better life

and i shall work hard to try to make sure all the children of the world get maps so that especially those in america, south africa and the iraq can find the US on a map, such as.

look out 2008, i'm staying and you're gonna love me.

I Want To Thank My Mom, And My Dad, and...

yesterday i was riding the train into the office. i was tired and the train was crowded; luckily i had a seat. not wanting to waste time, i pulled out some of my writing and was looking it over, seeking weaknesses and finding many. i was tempted to put it away and rethink the whole putting thought on paper deal. so self-indulgent and really, not as good as i thought. ugh. i made an executive decision to carry on at least until i got to my stop - i had nothing else to read, so i might as carry on. the train stopped and a guy squeezed into the seat next to me. i thought about projecting my frustrations onto him but then i realised that i have my moments when i squeeze myself into the unsqueezable seats - i mean, we all pay the same amount of money, what gives you the right to take up two seats? i'm squeezing.

so i return to the writing, adding words, fixing grammar and feeling sorry for myself. next stop. the guy gets ready to get up and says - "i'm sorry to be so nosy but i just had to tell you; that's a very interesting story."

i thanked so much, he must have been thinking - geez, what's the big deal? it's not like i'm giving you an award or anything.

but, mr stranger on a train - thank you.

Moses Supposes His Toeses Are Roses

i am the only person i know who loves andy rooney. don't ask me to rationalise it - it is emotion after all. but i just adore those last 5 minutes of 60 minutes where he gripes, sometimes about the same thing over and over again. maybe i like him so much because he is one person i don't mind listening to complaining. or maybe because i agree with him every once in a while. oh, yes and sometimes he just makes me laugh.

i am also the youngest person i know who loves 60 minutes. i have never started a conversation - the other day as i was watching 60 minutes - and had someone jump in with - oh yes, i love that show! i try to watch it every week. sometimes someone has jumped in with, oh yes, my dad used to watch that all the time. is it still on?

watching one of my favourite shows, 60 minutes, i have also realised that when people say "i could care less" it still gets on my nerves. granted, the english language is very often illogical - it is english, not math - but here is a phrase that could make absolute sense. for if you "couldn't care less" it means that you don't care since you could not care less than you do right now. so apparently in like the 60's this "i could care less" became popular in america and some person to lazy to say "n't" tried to make it okay by preaching sarcasm. but, quite honestly, i ai buying it.

Epiphany II

as i was dancing my way around my apartment a few minutes ago, it hit me. i now get why women wear such insanely high heels when they go out dancing. it so that no one will know how they dance. it could be that their sense of rhythm is not quite what the musician intended. maybe the moves are stuck in the '80s. perhaps when the beat hits them their flailing arms beat those around them. either way, once those heels are on, all one can focus on is not falling down and smiling to hide the pain of the foot bones being twisted into new and unfamiliar forms. it's brilliant!

of course if you actually love to dance and don't care what anyone else thinks, it can kinda suck. look out for the cracks in the pavement... those can be murder.

Epiphany

i now know what i want to be when i grow up. not be, really, but have to be more precise. i want to have a really important job. the kind of job that makes judges think twice before they send you to the slammer. the kind of job that makes judges hesitate before determine your sentence. the kind of job that dictates the terms of the sentence. because, you know, one never knows when one will be faced with the possibility of jail. i mean, famous people are in the news all the time for getting on the wrong side of the law; what hope could i possibly have of never getting into trouble.

there is this guy kiefer sutherland who i heard about. i read that he got pulled over and the cops found that he was driving under the influence of something that made him drive very recklessly. this wasn't the first time so, when he came before the judge, the judge felt that this time he had no choice but to sentence kiefer to some jail time. but this mr sutherland must do like essential save the world work because the judge the sentence around his work so he wouldn't miss a day at work while paying his debt to society. he got the option to serve half his sentence during his winter break and the other half during his summer break - as long as he served the full 48 days of his punishment by july 2008. yes, i envy the fact that he has enough vacation time to take 48 days but more than that i love how he can negotiate. how i would love to say - oh judge, you know monday through friday i need to go to work, you think we could do weekends. 24 weeks i'd have this pesky sentence out of the way.

talking 24, i think someone told me that this kiefer sutherland is known for resolving major life-threatening issues in ridiculously short periods of time, like a day or something. i guess, when you put it like that, it does make sense that he gets to gets some say in how he has to pay for his misdemeanours.

Thar She Blows!

it all seemed simple enough; take the call, confirm that i am indeed me and thus authorised to close the business long distance phone account. and it all started out well - yes, it's me. uh-huh, that's how i pronounce my name. no, no, we are sure we want to discontinue long distance on all the phone lines covered by this account. yeah, we won't need the business line anymore. of course, we have loved working with you. and then she said she was going to transfer me to an automated system that would spit out a confirmation number to complete the cancellation process. great! thank you, and have a great day.
then the machine took over. entered the number and got another one back. do over. same thing. again. and again. then the machined deemed me unworthy and sent me back to the mere humans again.
the woman asks me for my home number and i explain that this is a business account. i tell her that the machine asked for a phone number but i have three and no clue which one the machine wants.
"i understand completely what you are saying ma'am. what is your home phone number"
i explain again, this is a business account, covering several numbers, none of which is my home number.
"i completely understand what you are saying ma'am. you are supposed to enter your phone number."
yes, but i have several so which one do i use?
"i see. i completely understand what you are saying ma'am. give me one of the numbers and i'll help you."
so i give her a number and she taps away and states that she cannot find any information in her system. then asks me if i am sure that i have given her the correct number because she finds no records for this number. i confirm that i have. she asks for another number, which i give her. and she mumbles, "i am not seeing any information for this number either." silence. "well ma'am your account is cancelled. thank you for choosing our company." yes, on accounts that she cannot find in her system. because apparently i don't completely understand what she's saying.

and when that brain aneurysm, please make sure that this is on my epitaph.

Verbatim

just last week folk made a man cry to the press AND they forced him to state categorically that his words were not racist. shame on you, folk.

so this is the deal. there is a state senator in arkansas who is very passionately against illegal immigration. people have verbally attacked him for this tough stance and dedicated lobbying and he is very upset because the republican party has decided that the issue is too hot to handle and has left him "high and dry". so he is understandably, quite upset. and he is trying to explain how he feels to the mayor of fort smith, bill vines.

"I’m for sending the illegals back but we know that’s impossible. We are where we were with the black folks after the revolutionary war. We can’t send them back and the more we piss them off the worse it will be in the future. … Sure we are being overrun but we are being out populated by the blacks also."

and i am sure we can all understand his very real fears - the population of fort smith is about 77% white, 9.2% foreign born, 8.8% latino, 8.6% black, 4.6% asian and 3% other. you blink your eyes and you are being threatened with having to try to add up all these numbers in your head.

All We Need Is Love

yesterday was World AIDS Day. a great day for red ribbons and depressing statistics. thank goodness they don't even give us a day off from work to really think about it and, well, can you imagine if there was like an AIDS month? with all the pretty graph-making yet downright depressing statistics, i think it would take listening to bono and alicia keys on a red ipod nano while wearing a gap admi(red) t-shirt all at the same time to be able to ignore it all.

who wants to hear that south africans spend more time going to funerals than doing anything else? or that aids is the leading killer of african american women in new york (i would have guessed winter blues, but what do i know)? that half those newly infected with HIV in 2007 were under 25?

but just wait. i can see the day soon when World AIDS Day will be a glorious day of fun and maybe even super sales at the mall. where we celebrate the mass world action to eradicate (or at least make very rare) HIV/AIDS. and that day is right around the corner because there is no way we can sit around and do almost nothing while so many of our own die needlessly. right?

Please Take One

the commonwealth heads of government (CHOGM - i love the way that acronym goes down the throat) summit was held in uganda recently and the nation spent weeks getting ready for it. prostitutes, not ones to miss out on good business opportunities, took the time to take english classes - to make sure they could communicate well with customers. we all know know that communication is key when involved in the service industry. the last thing you want is to have disputes because one party didn't quite understand the terms they agreed to. thank goodness this was not a meeting of the multi-lingual united nations - the good thing about being part of a group of nations formerly colonised by the british is the unifying language.

during this heavy influx of the freed from colonisation the women of the night community also decided to raise their nightly business rates from $60 to $100. in a country where the average annual salary is less than $200 a year, that is some windfall. mtv may have to consider a ugandan woman of the night cribs. holla!

here's hoping one of the improved english lessons included a class in - no, sir, no condom, no sex. not even for $200 a night. i want to live to spend this money you are going to give me.

To Be Continued...

so i was thinking that maybe with my birthday and all coming about, i would get all deep and meaningful. you know, take some time to test the wisdom of my advancing age and ponder the deeper mysteries of life. perhaps take stock of where i am and reassess where i want to be. i mean, at some point don't we need to get beyond i want to be able to effortlessly touch my toes and do the splits? but no, i find myself resolving to never give up. but there is another issue - what to wish for when i blow out the candles on the cake. now that is really difficult. it has to be something extra special. something that maybe only a wish could make come true. something like:

1. backstage tickets to every show on the abba reunion tour. maybe they'll let me sing backup or at least play the tambourine and be a true dancing queen.
   
2. world peace. or at the very least, change the rules of war. disputes are to be settled through dance. viennese valtz to victory!
3. i refuse to write effortlessly touch my toes and do the splits here. i don't need a miracle for that, i have yoga. can't waste my birthday wish.
4. to be so casual and cavalier when i meet bill clinton (and i will meet bill clinton) that he'll have absolutely no idea i have an awesome crush on him. taunt me if you like, the heart (or loins) will do as it will.
5. hey! are the children covered by the whole world peace thing? because i totally want them to be healthy and happy and not allegedly kidnapped by air workers in chad.
6. shiny glitzy outfits for my world tour with abba deal. and for that to come with no shame. and an afro wig.
7. more leisure time. like waaay more leisure time. and then an extra week.
   

I Said Get On!

so the other day grandpa jones (names have been changed because i'm just not good with them) gets on his bicycle to go and pick up his four year old grandson james. this is a journey he's taken before and the trip to the school passes uneventfully. it's great exercise for grandpa jones. he's 77 and this keeps him young and chipper. he makes good time and gets to school as the kids are coming out of school. he spots his grandson coming towards him and waves to make sure that the little boy has seen him. the boy approaches and grandpa says "hey son, let's go."
"go where?" the boy looks a little confused.
"what do you mean, go where? did you just wake up? we're going home. get on the bike." the boy still looks a little lost.
"but who are you?"
"what do you mean, who am i? boy, i'm your grandpa now stop playing with me and get on." grandpa picks up the boy and puts him on the bar and they set off. the ride home is quiet - grandpa has to save his energy for the ride and it seems the boy still hasn't woken up because he looks dazed. it takes a while but they get home and grandma jones comes out onto the porch. as grandpa jones is helping the boy of the bike she shouts out,
"so who the heck is that and where's my grandson sam?"
"now that's funny. you know it's sam."
"sam? grandpa, you've got the wrong kid."
did i mention that grandpa jones has been sam's grandpa for four years? and that grandpa jones has picked sam up from school before. that james is no relation of sam's and apparently doesn't even look like him?

good confused man that grandpa jones is, he put james back on the bicycle and took him back to his waiting aunt and picked up the correct grandson but, people, i couldn't make this up if i tried.

Two Girls Walk Into A Bar...

sometimes people just need to let stuff out. you know, so they don't go explode and go a little or a lot crazy. some write poetry, some talk to strangers in public places.

a short while ago, a friend and i wandered into an irish pub. we had a thirst and time to kill. as we worked our way through our first drinks, two men came and sat next to us. old friends who had not seen each other in a while, they had finished catching up and were looking for something new to talk about. and they happened to sit next to us and strike up a conversation. so we discussed what people in irish pubs discuss - life, politics and wham. things were lively, we were on drink two, when at my right ear i heard a voice. i looked over my shoulder to see a man standing there. i was about to shrug him off but he begged me to listen to his story. so i thought, what harm is there in listening?

he begins. he came to this irish pub with a woman he met earlier in the day - a very lovely woman he added. but things got interesting when his ex-girlfriend walked into the pub (a risk you run when you go to the spots that you and your ex used to frequent). it seems this man had not yet forgiven his ex for leaving him and their two dogs. "i've got pictures, let me show you," and next thing i knew i was looking at wallet photos of two dogs in various poses. "cute," i responded more out of politeness than anything else.
"what are you doing?" my friend was getting impatient.
"he's showing me photos of his dogs," i shrugged, still a little confused. why me?
but he was tapping on my shoulder - he still had a story to tell.
so i looked back at him and he continued.

anyway, as i mentioned, he had not yet moved on from his ex-girlfriend. she was probably too young; she was nineteen and he was 32 when they met. his friend was dating her mother. but that hadn't seemed to matter (neither the age gap nor the two friends and mother and daughter double dates) and they had moved in together and adopted two lovely puppies together. things had been going great, he was ready to "breed." things started going wrong when he bought her a volvo.
"don't take this the wrong way," as he moved in really close and gazed earnestly into my eyes, "i want to have the perfect white family." not knowing which was the right way to take it, while wondering what memo i had missed that stated that a volvo is central to having the perfect white family, i said, "ok." my bewilderment must have looked like hurt feelings because he rushed to add - "well i'm sure you and i could have the perfect family but our kids would all have afros." i could think of many reasons why he and i wouldn't have the perfect family but he had a story to tell so he continued.
"she got mad because i asked her to make a payment and so we broke up." i was pretty sure that he was oversimplifying but i said, "ok."
then he started telling me just how perfect they were for each other. he claimed he used to be a pro baseball player and her father used to be a basketball player and started talking about short stops and he must have seen my eyes start to glaze over and my body start to turn towards my friend because he cut himself short and finished with, "anyway, i haven't seen her in two years and so i am off to try to make her jealous." again while my pub-mode brain was trying to make sense of this, i asked - "with your new girlfriend?"
"oh no," he looked at me as though i had just said the dumbest thing, "i'm just going to talk to her. i'm not really sure what i'm going to say but wish me luck."
"ok." again, confused expression must have made him feel that he needed to say more.
"you know i probably will never see you again, " to which i nodded. "i would have loved to chat you up but tonight there are just so many beautiful white women here."
"ok, now you can get lost."
because i didn't want to have stuff i needed to let out.

I'll Crush You Like A Bug! A Bug, I Say!

so our governor, elliot spitzer isn't having such a good week. and i feel kinda bad for him because i remember that i thought he was pretty cool for standing up for the little guy against the big corporations. seems though he got on lou dobbs's bad side and apparently that mr dobbs is a force stronger than nature. i don't know much about this lou dobbs character. i gather that he has a nightly show on cnn and i have tried to watch it but it seems to always been in reruns because every time i catch a clip of him he is talking about "broken borders", whatever those are. i just wonder when they have new episodes - damn writers' strike.

anyway back to what is going on with elliot. so new york, mostly city, being a melting pot and all is full of people from all over the world and not everyone is here legally. that's all well and good but despite our fantastic public transportation system, some of these not so legal residents of new york drive motor vehicles, sometimes for a living and sometimes even with passengers in the vehicles with them. so the governor thought it might be a good idea to get all these guys take the tests and hopefully that would make the roads a safer place to be. i am sure he had some other reasons for this - i am thinking driver's licences help our glorious big brother keep a protective eye on us.

but that lou dobbs he felt very strongly about this. it seems that if you give people driver's licences today, they'll be fakely driving tomorrow. i had no idea. i could have been committing voter fraud all these years if i had known that all one needs to register as a voter is a driver's licence. i had always been told that the proof of citizenship process was far more stringent but lou dobbs has opened my eyes. there are a whole lot of non-citizens driving around america completely clueless regarding the power of that piece of plastic in their wallets. but we can't let too many people know. or before we know it only citizens will be allowed to drive.

Come On Day, I'll Take You On

oh my goodness! am i tired! wow! i was kinda tired by eleven a.m. but i had no idea what tired was. i thought maybe another coffee but then i thought, no, pace yourself. first day at work, the last thing you need is the caffeine shakes. and the sky was all grey and it looked as though it was going to rain all day long. but i got to work and there was a package waiting for me. and in it was each day a small victory, a book i am totally looking forward to reading that was illustrated by oscar grillo whose awesome blogs help get me going each day... i was so excited! it was like christmas come early. i was sitting there thinking - should be hating this day but i was smiling.

and then my phone rang and it was my mother, calling to tell me that my super brought me a new fridge. now perhaps i have never told you about the fridge in my apartment, or rather that was in my apartment, but it was older than everyone i know - put together. seriously. and i have been trying to get my landlord to replace it. i was at my wits' end, especially when my fridge also started to weep in frustration - all over my kitchen floor. i called the super in to witness my fridge falling apart. i mean what else was it to do, seeing as it knew it could barely do what it was born to do. the super said, the landlord will never do anything but let me look around and see what i can do. this morning as i walked to the subway i wondered idly if he had forgotten me and if it would seem pushy to call him again. and then i got the fridge! it is not brand new but it's brand new to me and i think it was built in this century. and, i can barely believe it, i think it's frost free. i thought that getting excited over a refrigerator required a spouse and children but, look at me... i am breaking all the stereotypes.

now that i have conquered grey monday, i am going to relish my small victory for about 10 minutes before i pass out because - gosh darn it, today i discovered exhausted. eureka.