Decisions, Decisions, Decisions...

so, after hemming and hawing and suit-and-heels-wearing while trying to look enthusiastic about just about everything during two hour interviews that start at 8 am, i started a new job on monday. thankfully, i picked the place where i don't have to wear a suit and heels which is great because all that pavement pounding killed my fatigued-from-marathon-training feet. i picked the place that appears to want pandave, not susan and i feel good about it.

so on monday morning i headed out and got on the train. and then got stuck because there was a sick passenger on the train. if no one else, new york commuters must be big supporters of workers' rights. there is little more infuriating than being stuck between stations because the train ahead of you has been delayed in order to deal with a sick passenger who has no job security and so will drag him or herself into the office, even when they feel the grim reaper breathing down their back.

so i was late for my first day of work. great start. i get into the elevator and press the button for the 28th floor. the elevator shoots up and when it stops i swear my stomach has been left on the 19th floor. can one get motion sickness from elevators? i'm clutching the corners of the car but there is a man in the car with me and so i try to smile at him so that i don't get him concerned and i stagger out into the office. i have decided that i shall not eat within an hour of riding the elevators in this building.

then i spent the day training which was necessary yet very tedious. oh for the day where training is set to a catchy tune and coupled with a little dancing. i actually excused myself a couple of times to go to the ladies room and jump up and down to get the brain working again. oh and that bathroom - i went to flush the loo and the water started coming up, instead of down. naturally, i started talking to it - no, no, go down, don't do this to me!
a woman walked in and so i asked her what one does and she told me that the stall i had chosen was a bit "slow" so i should just flush again. great advice. the water came up even higher.
she shrugged and left the room. i stood and started praying, promising everything short of the souls of my unborn children - just please don't overflow! phew. a centimetre more and no one would have forgotten me in that office.

looking back on the day i have made a very important decision - next time i start a new job on a tuesday. it's not as though i don't know about monday.

All About Craving

two weeks ago today i woke up and declared that i wanted chocolate cake. real chocolate cake. soft and warm and rich and fresh and, preferably with chocolate icing on it. so, it was suggested, by a wise man who has been living in the neighbourhood and actually explored it, that i go to the 4pm yoga class and get cake from a wonderful bakery around the corner. great idea, i was psyched.

later in the day, as i sweated in the hot and humid and very funky room and felt as though i was about to pass out, my mantra was "chocolate cake afterwards. as i came up from camel and dizziness threatened to overwhelm me? "chocolate cake afterwards."

class ended and i staggered to the shower and changed into fresh, dry and not sweaty clothing and headed out the door. adrenalin gave bounce to my step as my exhausted body rounded the corner to find... the bakery was closed! what a long and defeated walk home.

and for the next week, at every meal, i imagined cake for dessert and yet, somehow, could not think of where to get it. at the wedding i stuffed myself with calamari, italian sausage and other tempting food. i even had a mini chocolate éclair. i was stuffed and could barely even think of moving when the wedding cake came around. chocolate. but no space in my belly! i ate it and it was good but it came too late and the so the desire remained unsated. i came back to new york and still cake occupied my every other thought.

on tuesday i headed out to visit the doctor and, on my way home i passed a cafe and out front - chocolate cupcakes. with chocolate icing. i walked past, turned around and came back. so it was lunchtime, so what? i walked in and ordered my cake and a latte, grabbed a fork and some serviettes and sat down. next to me, on either side, diners ate salad, but i didn't care. you know one of the great things about being a grown up? most of the time mom isn't around to tell you that you can't have chocolate cake for lunch. uh uh. i'm sure new york could see my smile for miles. i wouldn't be surprised if the city felt a little warmer for about 15 minutes on tuesday afternoon.
ah... chocolate cake.

Mmmm... Mmmm Good

in zimbabwe any reason is reason enough for a barbecue. so, you said there's a butchery around the corner? let's braai some meat. huh, you bought new earrings? barbecue. wait, that's a braai stand over there? where's the meat? let's get busy!

it's officially spring here in new york but it seems no one told the weather that so it is rainy and close to freezing. but i am going to a pre-wedding barbecue today. i can barely contain myself. even if it snows. wait wait -that's a good reason too!

Please Drive Slow, Dust Kills Our Trees

my mother knows just how to make my day. i was on holiday in zimbabwe last year and she looked over at me and said "i'm going over to ian smith's farm, do you want to come?"
she didn't have to ask me twice. i packed my camera and we set off. it wasn't a farm. it was a small town. and, for me, this sign said it all.

i have all kinds of feelings about ian smith and the history of rhodesia in general. but at the end of the day i thought to myself - this is history. this is the past and my feelings were somehow made more real because of where i was. and looking around the magnificence that was like a small town or, in some places, a country, i was a bit overwhelmed. but i took pictures. and my mother got a ram.

I'm So Excited!

a competition i can really get behind. with passion. with all my heart. and all my free time.
the ncaa basketball championship. i enter without prejudice because i have watched almost none of the season's games. and yet i enter with passion because there is some excellent ball playing going on. so far three of the underdogs have conquered and who doesn't like a feel good story where the underdog comes out on top? those with a lot of money on the game that's who, but we over in this corner are all for the little people.

you see the coaches and sometimes even the players pontificating but sport tv is clever - you can't hear a word they say. folk go red in the face, spittle shoots from their mouths and you think, oh, it must be really important. but you can't be sure and so no bubbles are burst and in no time we are back to the action and the muted suits are soon forgotten. there are some lessons here for the current election coverage but i fear that perhaps the so-called journalists and newspeople are too busy following a "story" to learn any lessons. but i won't complain, for once the ball games are over, i shall be back with them. i am thinking maybe i should work on a whole album of songs. yeah, that's it a whole album... but wait, three point play!!!

i gotta go!

My Story And I'm Sticking To It

thursday early morning my phone rings and i don't recognise the number. "hello," i say as i am still groggily wondering who is calling me. i hear a voice respond that i really don't recognise - but since i didn't recognise the number, i am hardly surprised. the voice sounds a little breathless and faint and yet the person is speaking to me in a familiar manner. "i'm in labour," the voice let's me know and then it hits me.
it's my aunt! but she was not due for a couple of weeks. ah well, babies, apparently they do things like surprise us. i leap out of bed and start running in confused circles. how do i find you? i'm on my way! no, don't try small talk, you're in labour. i'll be right there.

my new cousin finally arrived at almost 9 pm, and has been facsinating us ever since. this was him at one and a half days old. he is very generous with the expressive faces. and, it seems, too lazy to cry to often or too hard. i think i have become that obnoxious share pictures with everyone person. but... oh so worth it.

Rap My Knuckles!

so the last few months have been a little roller coastery (living in america means being able to create your own words, conversate). i mean one moment i was jogging along, dreaming of the new york marathon and the next i was being told i needed surgery that would keep me out of work for almost two months - and during year end, preparing for the auditors time, too??? granted it came with a great visit from my awesome cook fabulous caretaker mom but did it have to hurt so much? and i went from that to work challenges that have me now working the interview circuit. yeah, i think i totally rock but somehow i have to find the right buzz words to convince you of the same. maybe next interview i'll just hand over a link to this blog and say - well that's me, right there. strengths, weaknesses, love songs, you are almost dead to me songs. the whole shebang. take me, leave me but please don't think i can sit through two hours of interviews at 8:30 in the morning. my blog will make it patently clear that i am so not a morning person. and i have discovered that i am not very good at filtering the truth in the early hours of the a.m.

but i digress. it is not yet time for me to spearhead the change the working hours movement to something more civilised. i mean seriously, if one is not to have a cocktail before noon, how is one to do anything else of any importance before then?

again, my thoughts wandered. what i wanted to say is that i have been neglecting me. i wasn't running (first because i could barely walk but then because something like angst was slowing me down). and then i really was avoiding the blog - oh i didn't want to sound angry, sometimes i didn't want to sound sad and other days i was all - well who wants to hear about what made me laugh today. then i did what any interviewer should do - i looked back at my little rambling missive to those who stumble upon it and realised that i am all of those things on the regular. one thing i know i am not is a bland opinionless (yeah, made that up too; i'm on a roll) so-and-so who rationally discusses issues that require no opinion (is that possible?) and you know i need to practice what i preach. i need to let it on out. i need to be good to pandave. because i am sure that they are all kinds of words of wisdom about living life, but i tell you this, keeping it all in is yuck. pom poms!!! rah rah!!!!

Gimme A Beat!

a song came to me. unbidden its words formed in my notebook. it came at an excellent time. it is award season. perhaps some musical genius with a golden statue to their name will put a tune to the string from my soul...


You played into my life - shades sax and song
I knew right then, you could never do wrong
Even when they talked about you and the girl in the thong
I never wavered, never faltered, my heart to you always did belong

CHORUS:
How could you, Bill, play me like that
Play me like a wii
I tell you this, after all that
You are almost dead to me

"Let me hear you talk about trash about my man," I used to dare
The voices of the haters I would silence with a withering stare
And I kept telling myself that you really did care
That nothing could destroy the dream of you and me as a pair

CHORUS

THE BRIDGE:
With your words you spun a web,
I was your prisoner
My love for you would never ebb
I was your prisoner
Bewitched, bespelled, beyond saving
But you found a way to destroy it, it all caved in

But then you started talking smack, bringing a brother down
My glowing smile at your voice turned into a frown
Remember how, in my eyes, you always wore a crown
Now all i see is a mean, not so fun, clown

CHORUS:
repeat to fade...

thanks to jimmy holla xo, for inspiring me and encouraging me to let it all out.

All Animals Are Created Equal

the country is caught up in primary fever. for whatever reason - iraq, the economy stupid or maybe just bad reality tv - people are ready for a change. and so, in record numbers, people have registered and actually go out to vote. i am not sure what record numbers really means, since the united states has a reputation for low voter turnout. it doesn't help much that if you have been convicted of a felony you can go to jail, serve your time and yet eternally lose the right to vote.

but i digress - as i have been known to do. but so we are going through the primary elections - someone wins here, someone else wins there and yet the tallies don't agree with the wins and then, just to make things even more confusing, the numbers are different depending on which news source you go to. but then people stopped and said, hey! what's going on? how can it be so complicated? don't the people go and vote and elect their representative?

turns, out, no, not really. it turns out that we the people, all created equal, go out and vote for the candidate we like or at least prefer over the others. but it doesn't end there. there are those who have been created more equal. they get an extra vote and their vote is worth a lot of votes. how more equal? well, we the people count for 80% of the vote. 796 super-people count for 20% of the vote. what does that mean? well in a nation of about 300 million people, let's say that a third are democrats - 100 million. of these maybe half are eligible to vote, that's 50 million. and half turn up to vote - we are now at 25 million. 25 million vs 796? that's a heck of a lot of more equal, in anyone's book.

what really kicks is that people are sitting around debating how superdelegates can be part of a democratic process and there are people that sit and talk and blow a WHOLE LOT OF HOT AIR and somehow thinks this makes sense. they throw out phrases like - dedication to the party, party activists, those loyal to the party. and i am not sure what that is supposed to mean. is there a test, to determine more-equality? why didn't i get the memo?

superdelegates in the democratic party as part of the democratic process. yes. no irony at all in that phrase.

Everything's Relative

i was tagged by the ever fascinating world traveller fb and so i shall take this expose of the unimportant very seriously. for what doesn't matter to me, may in fact be the be all and end all for someone who stumbles upon my soul-baring...

The Rules:
- Link to the person that tagged you.
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
- Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
- Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

1. I have left/right issues (and almost no sense of direction). i find it amazing that there are people out there that do not have to think about it when someone says "raise your right hand." it is something i remember more these days because, in my yoga class, left and right are very important to the teachers. so there i am, trying to twist myself like a pretzel and then i hear, "okay now take your right hand and wrap it around your left thigh" and i can't see my foot to figure out if i am holding the scarred left one or not and i check for a watch because my hands are behind me holding me up and i just want to scream - hey, toward the mirror or away from the mirror would help so much right now. but, there's no screaming in yoga. screaming is not zen.
   
2. since my surgery a few months back, i have a scar at the bottom of my stomach that looks like a big smile. so remember, if we ever fall out and i look all mad at you, know that always, a part of me is still sunnily smiling right at you. while still giving me street cred.
   
3. despite my many threats to kick people's butts, i consider myself to be a pacifist. some refer to me as an idealist. others use the term "silly fool." i suppose this might make me strong enough to be president of switzerland. they don't go to war, right? and they have great chocolate. i'm thinking the president might qualify for some free chocolate.
4. i am allergic to mangoes. not epi-pen allergic. but more irritating rash allergic. do you know what i am drinking now? mango nectar. that is how good mangoes taste.
5. i can't throw away a book. even one that i have not enjoyed reading. i find it far easier to find space in my new york apartment (known in other cities as a walk in closet) and install yet another bookshelf. i think i am currently at 5 shelves. maybe i should have a book giveaway/exchange party. that shouldn't be too painful.
   
6. i have a terrible internal thermostat. as a result, i tend to have horribly cold hands and feet. sometimes i meet people and shake their hands and they hold on for longer, rubbing a hand between two of theirs - almost without thinking about it. to these kind souls, thank you. it makes such a difference.

the people i have chosen to tag are very super important. their views on the world, well...
dodos - everytime i go and there are a few words, and a picture that makes me go hmm...
tunga - always you make me giggle.
prettylyf - always positive, always poetic
carla - you take a lens and well, see what you did with snow and a bikini?
skyelarke - it seems you see so much and your soul remains beautiful.
tjidzani - so wonderfully lyrical.

Rarified Air

i recently did a spot of travelling and i don't think i'll get used to it. i mean not until the travel industry starts behaving in a logical manner. i mean as though they realise that it is people, mostly paying people, travelling in their system, not their worst enemies, being pushed to their limits until they finally break and beg for mercy - if they can still be coherent at that point.

first, before you go anywhere - the restrooms? so you are at a place where you are probably lugging luggage around with you - even if it is just your carry-on, it still a substantial addition to your girth. and what do they give you? restrooms with door that open INWARDS so you have to squeeze yourself, your luggage AND THE DOOR into the tiny space that is already half full of lavatory.

i suppose it is to get you ready for you are going to spend the next two to twenty hours. in a seat designed for a twelve-year old aneorexic with leg room that is ample only if you are three feet tall. two people can't pass each other in the aisle and god forbid you need to go to the bathroom during the flight; it seems as though the whole plane has to stand up and get out of your way. so what was the thinking? let's create a wonderful invention that helps us travel long distances in little time. then, let's do everything we legally can to make it the worst experience of their lives. short of putting pins in the seats, the sky's the limit. and then, for a while, let's give them little things that make the experience almost bearable - such as minuscule pillows and blankets and meals and beverages. and just as the travellers become accustomed to this, let's take it all away and charge them $5 for a tiny packet of potato chips and another $5 for a drink to wash away the bitterness at being taken for a ride. and i can't even try to bring a free drink from home. no... security takes that away from me - it must be a conspiracy.

finally, those airlines that do not have in seat tv screens must be put on notice. seriously, giving people those neck-cramp and eye-strain inducing screens in the middle of the aisle that you can't focus on due to all the aisle traffic, the incredible distance you are from the tiny screen and the impractical placement of the screen, is just cruel and unusual punishment. and for all of that, as you creak your way out of the plane at the end of the ordeal the smiling stewards and air hostesses chirp "thank you for flying with us! come again soon!"

i say this - sadists of the world, do you wish to truly satisfy the need to bring pain and suffering? start an airline. all you need to do is waltz up and down the aisles and i guarantee the plight of the travellers will bring you satisfaction. guaranteed.

Cutting Edge Fashion

i don't get it? where have i been? when did the machete make it as the weapon accessory of choice? i tell you, it's like i blink and i miss ten trends. back in school i learnt about machetes, as the instrument sugar cane growers used to cut down the cane. but that was back in the day before combine harvesters and stuff. machetes were a part of history and good riddance too. that word flummoxed me; was it a mah-shet or a ma-shet-tee? thank goodness i only had to read and write the word in class - it had no use in everyday conversation.

but i should have known that if bell-bottoms could make a comeback, so could the machete. first, in rwanda, people were massacred using machetes. and i wondered - where did they get so many? was someone planning on starting a massive plantation?

then recently a football player was shot and killed in his home in south florida. apparently he heard people breaking into his home, so he dove under his bed, grabbed his machete and tried to go out to investigate. machete? under his bed? really?

a couple of weeks later, i am watching a documentary about skinheads. 4 youths went out in search of a black drug dealer to beat down and instead came across a drug user in an alley. when they stepped forward to beat him with the baseball bats they were holding, he pulled out a machete. on the streets, machete beats baseball bat. isn't a machete kinda large? when ambling around dark alleys, how does one casually holster a machete?

and now in kenya, the machete is all over the place, and not in a good way either. reporters all over the world are having to learn how to pronounce the word. machete has entered everyday conversation. along with non-sensical phrases like ethnic cleansing - used in sentences by world leaders in sentences like "there is a lot of violence, but we will not go as far as to call it ethnic cleansing."

well now in kenya they are in the middle of "hard" talks. i am not sure if that means that talking will be difficult in between the tea and sandwiches and committee-forming that comes with talks or that the talks will be hard on the exploding new fashion trend. but i am recommending that the chadian rebels hold out on their action for a few days - they may be able to get a great deal on used machetes - more money for campaign phone calls and pamphlets.

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.