I've been on skirt buying binge, and when I was in Macy's this week I saw a skirt in the Ralph Lauren section that was so cute. The mini skirt was white with a blue pattern like what you would see on a china plate. It was so cute! Instantly it occurred to me that wearing the skirt would be like wearing a dinner plate pattern around my butt.

God, I love that. I love the thought of wearing a china plate pattern on my body. Now there's something you don't see every day and probably don't really want to either. But I love it, it's so original. The blue pattern can either be found on plates or on wall paper. I mean that's even better isn't it? Wearing wall paper on your butt! How bizarre and fun is that?

Anyway, the skirs were $23 each so naturally I bought two of them with different prints. Can't beat that price. Here's one of them, Cotton Sateen Porcelain Skirt

I was reading through my blog and saw that I forgot to mention that I had seen Kill Bill Vol. 2. Of course I totally loved it and had to choke back tears when I saw Uma Thurman watching the kung fu movie with her daughter. I used to watch kung fu movies with my grandma when I was young.

I'd love to see the Kill Bills back to back. I wonder if that's been done already and I just missed it. I know they showed The Lord of the Rings movies back to back. That would have been fun to do if I had the time.

I loved the chinese shaolin master with the fluffy white beard. He was quite the character. I will say I was shocked to find out how the story turned out. I didn't see that one coming. The violence wasn't as fun, excessive, and out there in Vol. 2 as it was Vol. 1, but there was enough of it so I can't really complain.

What I love the most about Quentin Tarantino is he is so true to the genre of Hong Kong kung fu and japanse samurai movie. Take the music. All Hong Kong kung fu movie have annoying as all hell soundtracks. And Tarantino did not disappoint because sure enough, bad music came on during the movie. The bad music was so reassuring familiar to me and I had to laugh because he got the same reaction out of me that a real Hong Kong kung fu movie would. "Turn that bad muzak off!"

I was at Virgin Megastore this week, and broke down and bought Fallen by Evanescence. CDs are so expensive, $18.99 at full price. Yowsa! For the price of a $199 Ipod that holds 1,000 songs, you could buy about 10 cds at full price.

I told a friend of mine about it, and she said that you couldn't buy Evanescence's song off of ITunes. I thought you could buy all songs off of ITunes, but I suppose that's up to the artist and their record company.

The Evanescence CD is great, from start to finish. I have very few CDs, unless it's a greatest hits compilation, that I can make this comment about. I hear the group has broken up. That's too bad because the music is just so great!

I probably shouldn't find something like this funny, but I do. I guess I'm just a sick bunny girl.

EMPLOYEE WITH OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER NOT DISABLED
The 10th Circuit found that an employee with obsessive compulsive disorder did not show that he was substantially limited in a major life activity. Steele v. Thiokol Corp., 241 F.3d 1248, 10th Cir. (Utah) Feb.22, 2001. Other employees had called him "Psycho Bob", and hummed "If I Only Had A Brain", wrote "dunce" on the back of his hard hat, drew cartoons with his name on them with the comment "The Big Dumb One", and made cuckoo noises in front of him.

He suffered a nervous breakdown and took a leave of absence for more than three weeks. Upon his return, he was terminated during a reduction in force. The court found that he did not present sufficient evidence of substantial limitation in walking, sleeping, interacting with others, and learning/comprehending. He did not allege a substantial limitation of work. The court did not decide whether interacting with others is a major life activity, finding instead that he did not provide any evidence that his OCD caused him to have trouble getting along with people in general. The court stated that it need not decide the issue of whether a hostile work environment can be brought under the ADA.

Finally back home. My trip was so short, it feels like I commuted to North Carolina for a couple of days. It's a very weird feeling.

I heard some of the people in the seminar talking about taking the coffee mugs from the seminar home. They're nice big blue coffee mugs that say Washington Duke Hotel and Golf Course. I decided to join the crowd and slipped one into my bag. Such a typical tourist ... stealing the hotel mugs. I've got pencils and pads and pens from the other hotel as well.

I got wanded at the Raleigh-Durham International Airport. This is the first time I've been wanded since 9/11 happened. TSA took me aside and said the airline had designated me to be searched and wanded today.

They made me take my shoes off so they could examine them. Then I had to stand and let some woman wand me and pat me down. My stupid underwire bra kept making the wand go off. The TSA people went through all of my carryons and even inspected my laptop.

I wasn't mad, but I did feel kind of like a criminal only because people stare at you and look at you and wonder if you're a terrorist. Either you're a terrorist or you're too stupid to follow the rules they have for getting through security. It's either one of the two.

At airport I bought a magnet that says North Carolina only because it had a red cardinal birdie on it. I used to see red cardinals in Hawaii all the time when I was growing up. Now I rarely see those birds here in San Francisco.

I can't believe tomorrow is only Wednesday and I have to go back to work. It kind of felt like I was away for the weekend.

I saw the cutest guy waiting in line to get on the plane at the Charlotte Airport. He was a Steve look-alike only he was a blonde. He was tall with blue eyes, and he had a tan which was cool. Nicely dressed as well, good shoes and an expensive dress shirt. He kept looking back at me in line.

He got on the plane before me and was sitting in first class. Then I had fantasies about him the whole plane ride. What if he was the one? What if I missed my chance and was supposed to talk to him in line? Why can't I be more friendly to totally cute strangers? What if he was my true love and I was just too stupid to talk to him? Wouldn't our son look so cute? I had visions of us going to church together. It's so sad! I don't even know guy, and probably have no chance in hell of meeting him, and I'm fantasizing about showing up at church with the guy.

I was kind of hoping he would be there at the baggage claim so I could stare at him some more, but he had carried his suitcase and probably even parked his car at the airport.

I wished I checked his ring finger. But isn't that rude that the guy might have been married and was staring at me like that in line? If he was my husband, and I knew he was checking out girls in line at the Charlotte Airport I'd be upset. He was really, really cute though. He had such a nice smile. Pretty eyes too. A little on the thin side, but at least he was tall.

In a seminar all day at the Washington Duke Inn and Golf Club. Then my co-worker and I came back to the hotel, and I checked work email and needed to work.

I leave tomorrow at 2 pm. What a short trip. We didn't even get a chance to see anything. The Washington Duke gift shop was so disappointing! Maybe I'll shop at the airport for souveneirs.

We made a trip to Eckard's in Durham, and there wasn't anything special there. Chain stores are the same all over. I watched the Durham news WRAL news on TV tonight. There are gangs in Durham North Carolina. Who knew? Maybe all towns have the same problems.

In Durham North Carolina at a different hotel off the Duke Campus. The seminar expensive hotel was sold out. Too bad. We drove by the place and it looked great. This alternate hotel is just your typical boring ugly chain hotel. Oh well. I wish we were on the Duke Campus.

I'm exhausted. My flight left at 6 in the morning, and the shuttle came to get me at 4 am. I didn't even sleep. I lay down for a bit, but couldn't fall asleep. I managed to sleep on the plane to Denver, and on the noisy crop duster plane to Raleigh Durham, but I feel tired. I hope I sleep well tonight. I'll be sleeping through the seminar if I don't.

We're going to a welcome reception tonight. I'm starving. I hope they feed us. It's not like I haven't been eating all day, but I'm tired so I'm hungry. I'm becoming a cranky traveller.

I wonder if this is true. Just heard on the radio that John Kerry is going to offer the VP spot to Richard Gephardt. Hmmmm.....

There's something about my aunties.

My aunties are sport nuts! On Saturday, my aunties insisted on getting back to the hotel so they could watch ESPN's Sports Center.

My oldest aunty was talking about how she was a huge Boston Redsox fan in highschool, and supposedly had an awesome baseball card collection. She said she even had Ted Williams' baseball card. She was lamenting the fact that my grandmother had thrown her collection while she was in college, and if she had held on to the colleciton it would be worth a fortune right now. My aunt still follows baseball, but she's not an intense Redsox fan anymore.

My other two aunties told me they watch more sports on TV than their husbands. They bragged about how they drag their husbands to sporting events. My aunties were all over the NBA basketball final, and wanted to watch ESPN Sports Center so they could hear more analysis about the series. They're betting money on the championship. One of my aunties is rooting for the Laker, the other aunty is rooting for the Pistons and can rattle off the stats for every player on the Pistons team. The other aunty can rattle off the stats for all the Laker players as well, so they're evenly matched that way.

On Sunday morning, my aunties were oohing and ahhing over the sports history shows on West Coast ESPN. They said that their local ESPN channels didn't show the same shows. My aunties were jealous that I lived in an ESPN market with better sports show programming.

So I'm like listening to them and wondering if liking sports is inherited in the family for girls. I know I've been been in relationships where I was more interested in sports than my boyfriend. How funny!

But if sports interest is inherited in the family among the girls, so is shopping. All my aunties are shopping freaks! They insisted on going to Nordstrom Center so they could go to shoe department. They were practically orgasming over the number and variety of shoes at Nordstroms.

One of my aunties, the Pistons fan, bought three pairs of shoes. The former Boston Redsox fan aunty had a pair of shoes shipped to her. The Laker fan aunty doesn't make that much money, so she's not much a shopping freak because of her finances but even she ended up buying a pair of shoes at the DSW Shoe Warehouse. And of course they had to buy clothes and jewelry for themselves, as well as souveniers for the families back home.

And I have their eating habits as well. My aunties all have sweet tooths. We kept having to stop for cookies, pastries and candies. How weird!

I mean, I never grew up with my aunties. My mother was their sister, but I wasn't around most of them growing up. And yet somehow I share their liking for sports, shopping, and sweets.

My aunties were very impressed that I won the office March Madness pool that one year. They've been playing for years, and have never won.

And my aunties are surprised themselves about their similar sports interests because only my oldest aunty was into sports in highschool. They other two only became interested in sports after they were married. The Pistons fan aunty says she doesn't know any other women who follow sports the way she does, and now she's excited to have someone, her own sister in fact, to analyze ESPN Sports Center with.

I supposed I should comment on the passing of former president Ronald Reagan.

I've been politically aware since my youth, and I wore funeral black armbands when Reagan was elected president. That should tell all you need to about my opinion about the man. I was never an Alzheimer Reagan democrat, but neither were my parents. They would never have voted for a republican, no matter how brilliantly the guy played and acted in the role of the president.

Reagan was a good actor. DUH!!! Was there any question that he would play the role of the president, the role of a lifetime for anyone I might add, to perfection. What else is there to say?

I don't know why people got so mad at Hilary, when Nancy was running the country the whole time Uncle Ronnie was in office. Nancy was just too smart to say anything about it, and Hilary, well she had to talk about because she didn't want people think that Slick Willie was smarter than she was. Nancy didn't care. She knew that actually running the country was more important than getting credit for running the country.

If you're into NBA basketball, you'll want to check out ESPN tonight and hear Larry Byrd talk about white players in the NBA. Here's the ESPN link to the interview, For 'Two on Two', It's all Bird.

SFGate.com had an article about the interview as well, Bird chirps: White America wants white basketball stars.

My aunties are such a trip. On Saturday, I took them to the City and made them ride BART. They kept asking me, "are we underneath the Bay yet?"

One of my aunties is this very snobby, hoity toity types, and she insisted we go to Neiman Marcus so she could buy me some clothes. Of course she knows I never shop there but she was trying to impress me and her other sisters or something.

I ended up buying two t-shirts in colours I didn't even want for $85 a piece. I really needed more white t-shirts to wear to work, but they were out of them and I didn't want to try on anything else. At the checkout, I grabbed another t-shirt, which was $45, and made my aunt buy me $250 worth of t-shirts. What a trip!

I really wanted her to buy me some jewelry or a new bag for work or a jean jacket, but I thought t-shirts would be less expensive. And I really needed white t-shirts but they were all sold out at Neiman Marcus and at Macys.

I complained to my other auntie that what I really wanted was a jean jacket, but that I didn't think Neiman Marcus carried any. We were shopping in the City again on Sunday, and the auntie that I was complaining to made me go into the Gap to buy a jean jacket. I didn't really want one, but I thought what the hell, I'll let buy it because I knew if I didn't she'd be mad at me till she flew home.

I have bad work karma. We have an intern starting next Tuesday, and I just knew she was going to get a new laptop. When I asked my bosses for a new laptop, they moaned and complained about not having enough money. Was that a lie or what?

I was so pissed I left at 5:15 pm. Screw working late if I can't even get decent equipment. I'm like whatever.

And that was just the capper on a bad day. I was sleepy this morning, so I had my eyes closed when I felt something touching the left side of my breast. Some jerk was touching my breast with his finger. What a creep!

I yelled at him and asked him what the heck he was doing with his finger, and jerkoff just looked at me stone faced. I was so upset I got up and move to the other side of the train. I was so agitated I ended up telling the two women next to me that the psycho across the way was feeling me up. They sympathized with me, but then said they see it all the time and that the train was full of sick people.

I looked up some some guy and he was just grinning, like he was just enjoying watching me get molested like that. What a freak! I should have just punched the guy out, but it was too early in the morning. God, that made me so mad I could feel my blood pressure rising! If I ever see that psycho on the train again, I'm going to punch him out.

I've never been felt up on the train before. I should never have closed my eyes like that. That was dumb!

Then I had my weekly meeting with my boss, and she asked if I could help out with a project that I knew the rest of the group was working on. I've been hearing them talk about it for awhile, and my boss said they needed help. There were three people working on the project.

So I get an email from one of the guys at 10 am, and he asks me to research two competitors for the competitive analysis that they were doing. But then when I looked at what they had done, I saw that between three people they had only managed to do four companies. I couldn't believe they were asking me to do two companies by myself. I was so mad! I'm like, what they heck where these people doing for the two weeks they've been working on the project.

So I emailed everyone back and said I only had time to do one, but then my boss emailed back and asked me to do one today and one tomorrow. I'm like whatever.

Then the guy who was supposedly running the project comes over to my desk and start explaining the project to me like I was really stupid. He didn't know that I had already starting working on it, and when I showed him what I had started he stopped talking.

At 3 pm, I finished the one company that I said I would do, and I could hear them saying how quick I was. I felt like screaming over the cubicle that I got it done so quickly because I work hard, and don't complain and moan all day like they've been doing for two weeks.

I couldn't believe those people had two weeks to do this project, and it still wasn't done. I would have finished it in one week by myself. Maybe I haven't seen all the work they did, but what the guy sent me didn't look it would take more than four days to complete.

Those three people don't even stay late either. They clock in and clock out on the dot, and then copmlain about how much work they have to do. I take that back. One guy stays late alot, and so does one woman occassionally, but the other guy jets out of there at 5 pm.

I think my boss had me do it because those four people were just dragging their feet on the project. I don't know. I'm pissed my boss made me work on the second company, but she knows I have the time.

I should stop complaining myself because I know I get paid double what the three people make, but still! That doesn't excuse bad work habits. I probably make triple what the damned intern makes and she's getting a new laptop. I hate that. I just totally hate that!

I bought some stocks over the weekend. After being out of the market for several years, it feels weird to buying stock again. I bought 200 shares of Silicon Image (SIMG), the company that makes the chips for high definition TVs.

My favorite Wall Street stock picker was very bullish on the stock and picked the stock up 3 months ago. I hope this stock tip pans out.

I would be happy if I doubled my money, but we'll see.

It's been a fast flying short week at work. I'm taking Friday day off to be with the family. My uncle is still in ICU, and I think everyone is fearing the worst. My uncle won't calm down and they say he's fighting all the things that are happening to him, and this is not good for his healing.

He's a stubborn guy, and I'm sure he's totally in denial about what's happening to him. The hospital has to keep him heavily sedated to keep him from thrashing around in his bed. He's either fighting or he's really scared and freaked out, and every time he wakes up he starts trying to get out of bed.

It's a trip having the family here. I found out one of my cousins graduated with honors from Texas A&M University.

I saw two movies this weekend. I haven't been going to see any movies at the theater because I've been so busy and because I started getting depressed while I was in the theatre. Even when I was supposd to be seeing a comedy, I'd get depressed.

I'd be watching the movie and really getting in the story, and after awhile I'd think to myself that watching this movie was just an escape for me and afterwards I'd be going back to my horrible life. This thought would make me so depressed because I couldn't even enjoy watching a movie without my horrible life intruding on the experience.

I came to this same realization about drinking awhile back. I used to drink to escape my life, until I realized one night that once the high of being drunk wears off you're still stuck with your life.

The night that experience happened I was out partying with friends, and drank what I thought was a ton of booze. I came home, drank some more and then lay awake in bed unable to sleep. As the booze gradually wore off, the awfulness of my life started to hit me. I got so mad. I mean, what was the point of drinking if the high was so short and at the end you were back stuck with your horrible life? I felt so damned cheated, especially because of the volume of alcohol I had consumed.

Booze is such a slavemaster! In the beginning it doesn't take much for you get tipsy. Then little by little, you need more and more, and high of drinking gets shorter and shorter. Soon you're drinking a ton and not getting much out of it. Then after awhile you have to drink to maintain your blood alcohol levels, because if you don't maintain your levels you get cranky. And the crankiness gets totally worse on the third day if you go without alcohol. If you don't watch out you become a slave to heartless bottle of brown or white liquid in the bottle. Slavery to inanimate objects have never been my thing.

After that night, I started cutting down on my drinking. It seemed so pointless now. Now I just drink when I'm out with friends, at parties or when friends come over. I rarely drink when I'm by myself, although I still like to keep a very well stock liquor cabinet for company and just in case I have the urge to have a drink.

Anyway, enough about my boozaholic history. The two movies I saw was "Shrek 2" and "Troy". I wouldn't have gone to see Shrek 2, but "The Day after Tomorrow" was sold out, and Shrek was the only movie available when I was at the theatre on Friday.

Shrek 2 was really, really funny! I'll probably rent it again because I'm sure there jokes that I missed because I was laughing so hard. The theatre wasn't very packed, but other people were laughing so it must have been funny to other people as well. At one point, we were all clapping as well although I don't quite remember when that happened in the movie.

I wasn't going to see "Troy" but on Friday, I listened to Skip Bayless' review of the movie. Skip Bayless, a sport columnist for The Mercury news, was guest hosting The Jim Rome show on Friday. Bayless reviewed the movie "Troy" and tried to make a connection to sports by talking about Brad Pitt.

Bayless kept going on and on about how Brad Pitt's upper body was just amazingly well built, and how Pitt had trained for six months to achieve his upper body look. Bayless tried to make a connection between Pitt and Barry Bonds. Bayless said that people couldn't believe how much Barry Bonds built his upper body a few years ago, and so attributed Bonds' upper body strength to steroids. Bayless said that if Pitt didn't take steroids to achieve his muscular upper body, then it must be able to be done without drugs. So maybe Barry Bonds just trained hard like Brad Pitt, and didn't take drugs to do it.

Bayless then further reinforced his point, by saying that Brad Pitt's legs looked way too skinny, and faulted his trainer for not working on Pitt's legs. But if Pitt was on steroids, his lower legs should have also been built up even without him working on them.

So of course I had to see "Troy" on Saturday if Skip Bayless was raving about Brad Pitt's body. And yes, the boy was ripped and had the kind of back muscles you just want to run your tongue over to feel every curve. And I'm one of few women on this planet who doesn't think Brad Pitt is all that attractive either.

But never mind Pitt's upper body and skinny legs. What about the boy's bottom? The movie had a ton of shots of the Brad Pitt's bum! Like OH MY GOD! His bum was amazing! What is that expression? So tight he was bouncing off the wall. Like the filmmakers don't know their female audience. There were so many shots of Brad Pitt walking around naked in the tent, and the camera was just a stitch above his crotch that you couldn't help but wonder what was just below the camera line.

I knew there were probably women there squinting to see if there were pubic hairs getting into the shot. You could totally see his front hip bones. I'm not a Brad Pitt groupie, but even I was quite fascinated by his hip bones.

When I saw those Pitt body shots, I sat in my chair wondering if this was going to be like that stupid movie "Legends of the Fall" which my friend made me sit through just so she could oggle Brad Pitt. But thankfully, the "Troy" filmmakers put in some scenes for the men as well.

"Troy" had some great bloody, bloody battle scenes with blood squirting all over the place. There weren't any body parts flying around the screen like in "Braveheart", but I think that was because the weapons weren't the same. In "Braveheart", the men fought with long broadswords. In "Troy", the weapon of choice was arrows.

But there were some great arrows in legs and arrows in other body part scenes. I would have loved to see an arrow go straight through some guy's head, but this event probably doesn't happen that often. The few hand to hand combat scenes "Troy" provided great sword play, and the cuts that people sustained looked very blood and real. I would have been really bummed if the fighting wasn't gory and realistic. What's the point of watching a movie about a war without seeing blood squirting all over the place and tons of dead bodies?

I also saw bodies with lots of realistic bruising, which is really nice to see in a war movie. Usually the bruising parts gets skipped or I just don't notice it. But there was excellent bruising and bruising marks in this movie.

I also liked the guy who played Odysseus, and thought his characterization of that legendary figure was done very well. I hope they make a movie about Odysseus with that actor playing him; he'd be perfect.

Eric Bana of "The Hulk" also did quite a good job. Poor Mr. Hulk. Why did the filmmakers of that movie make The Hulk looke like the Jolly Green Giant from the frozen food packages? The Hulk even had the Jolly Green Giant's purple pants. Orlando Bloom just wasn't as attractive as he was in The Lord of the Rings. He should go back to being a blonde elf boy.

I liked the movie "Troy", but since I know the story I wished the filmmakers hadn't taken so many liberties with the story. Oh well. It's just an adaptation. With all the special effects moviemakers can do currently, you can't help but wonder when you watch a movie like "Troy" if those people you're watching on screen are real or just movie special effects.

In any battle scene, you might be able to safely assume that the first five rows of soldiers are real people because you can actually see their faces and their expressions. But after that, I don't know. I think they're just computer generated especialy if I can see a face or an expression. I spend the whole movie wondering which effects and people are real and which are fake. It kind of takes away for me some of the enjoyment of the movie, but I can't help but do it.

It's been a busy and eventful weekend, and I haven't been in a mood to write. So many things have happened in such a short time.

First off, my uncle is in the hospital in an intensive care ward in Oakland. I spent this Memorial day keeping my aunt company for three hours and just talking to her about what happened. They dont' really know what's wrong with him, other than the fact that his lungs are bleeding. They sort of ruled to tuberculosis, but they just don't know.

My aunt said my uncle had a lung ailment for three weeks and was short of breath. She kept telling him to go to the doctor but he didn't want to. On Thursday he practically fainted at work so he agreed to go see his PCP on Friday. The PCP rushed him to the emergency room so he could go to the hospital for tests. On Saturday he was talking but still short of breath so they put him on oxygen and did a TB test, which turned out to be negative.

Despite the oxygen, he still had trouble breathing, so they put him in ICU on Saturday night and stuck tubes down his throat and put him on a respirator. My aunt finally started calling people on Sunday night, because the doctor said people should come now because his lungs were filling up with blood and he was close to renal failure.

My uncle's illness came as such a surprise. He seemed to be in good health, and other than the lung ailment seemed fine. I wished my uncle wasn't so stubborn and had gone to the doctor when he first starting noticing his lung ailment. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be sitting in the hospital now if he had only gone to the doctor.

My aunt said the timing of my uncle's illness is not that great because he was thinking of retiring from work next year. They even have plans to go on a cruise to Alaska at the end of June, which my aunt doesn't want to cancel yet in case my uncle gets better.

The doctors have absolutely no idea what's wrong with him and they've got him on steroids and strapped to his bed so he doesn't thrash around and yank the tubes out of arms and mouth. My poor uncle. When I was there they decided to keep him sedated to keep him calm to stop him from breathing so hard.

The medical staff are afraid to give him morphine because of his blood pressure and because they haven't ruled out that he might have a heart attack that triggered his lungs to bleed. I think he was thrashing around because he's in a lot of pain. Thankfully one of the nurses decided to give him some vicodin, which I don't think helps his pain at all because my aunt told me my uncle takes vicodin for pain at home for his gout.

My family is flying in from all over the country to see my uncle. I'm going to spend most of my time with them this week and over the weekend. Hopefully the doctors can figure out why my uncle is so sick.

I don't think I'll ever be happy in any job I'm in. I'm convinced of this fact now. Now that I've been at my job for a couple of months, I haven't met anyone who feels very appreciated for what they do. That's sad isn't it? I kind of thought this company would be different, but it's turning out to be more of the same.

Whatever. My fatalist sense tells me that I needed to have this realization so I could get my life back in balance. After all, if I was happy with my job and worked 60-80 hours weeks when would I ever find the time to write?

But I had the realization. I worked hard all week on this important project, and I wasn't thanked, people weren't grateful and at one point someone got mad at me because they thought I did this one thing. Of course I didn't do it, but it was really galling to be treated that way after the way I worked this week. I'm still kind of upset about it, but I know that will pass.

It was really hard this morning to be calm, but I told myself that I couldn't stay mad all day. Staying angry at work just isn't worth the emotion and energy. Short of quitting, there's really nothing I can do about my situation right now.

So I put my headphones one and listened to Jim Lampley the boxing analyst, be the guest host on the Jim Rome show. Once I did that, I felt transported and very faw away from all the dramarama that was going on in my department.

Later on in the day as I mulled the situation around and round in my head, I decided that if wasn't going to be especially appreciated for working hard and staying late then I wasn't going to stay late at work anymore. I'm not going to kill myself to get something done if people at work can't be bothered to say at least thank you for all of your hard work.

I was headed in that direction anyway, and was tired of feeling guilty for wanting to write and work out instead of work. Well, not anymore. Maybe I just needed an external excuse to convince myself, because I wasn't going to be able to make the decision on my own. Well, now the decision has been made and I'm at peace with it. It was meant to happen I think anyway.

Writing, working out and taking care of myself is what I really need to be doing. I have to work as well, but from now on I'm going to be like everyone else and leave when I'm supposed to. It's not like I'm working hard to get a promotion. I'm very content to be doing what I'm doing, and have no wish to move up any more on the corporate ladder.

I need to have time to write and work out and take care of myself. If I don't do it, who will? Certainly not the people at work. It's all good. Writing is what I should be doing, not working like a dog at work.

Today was such a bad, bad, hard day for me. Shocking really, because I didn't expect the kind of siuation to me to ever happen again. But it did, and I'm fine. I can adjust, I'm adaptable, I know how to maximize any situation I'm in to my best advantage.

I sometimes unknowingly pick up people's thoughts or maybe it's just that I'm very, very perceptive and can read situatons really well. Not all the time, but just sometimes. I'd actually forgotten I could do this, but working in an office has reminded me that I have this ability.

I was feeling so jealous last week of that new guy that was getting so much work, and I couldn't figure out why. I mean, I probably make double what me makes so why should it bother me that he was getting alot of work. My workload is heavy enough without wanting more.

But when I talked to the admim assistant for our group, she confided in me that she was feeling some job insecurity because of the new guy who is also a admin assistant like she is. She was afraid that her bosses might like him better, and try to boot her out. Poor kid, and she really is a young twenty something kid.

I think I was picking up the admin assistant's feelings and thoughts, and thinking they were my own. At least now I know why I was having those feelngs.

I wish I was better at shielding my mind but I'm not. It takes me awhile to figure out that I may just be picking up someone else's thoughts, but once I do I know how to rid myself of the other person so to speak. I have enough tools, have taken enough seminars, and have enough books to quickly remove thoughts and feelings that aren't my own from my head.

When I was younger it used to be really bad. I couldn't look at crippled people or people with obvious physical deformities without tapping into their pain, sadness and anger. I still remember that time I couldn't go near the Vietnam Memorial in DC because I was picking up way too many sad, sad, and painful thoughts from other people.

I have an urge to go to New York to see the 9/11 site, but I know in my heart I probably physically couldn't go near the place witout freaking out.

I wish my friend Amy was still alive. I have perceptions but I can't analyze them. I used to tell Amy about the perceptions I was having up, and she was able tap into my perceptions and analyze them so they made sense. Amy said I could analyze them if I wanted do, but I just wasn't used to doing it because she said I ignored them most of the time until they started to infringe on my own mental space.

Amy was always telling me I need to protect myself more, and learn to put up a barrier between myself and other's people thoughts and feelings. Amy said she would literally go insane if she picked up perceptions the way I did.

But I don't how to turn them off because I don't even know how I get them. I just get them. It's an inner knowing. Amy was lucky because her perceptions took the form of images in her mind. Mine come as thoughts in my head, whether their mine or somebody else's.

I'm reading over this post, and I know I'm starting to sound like a science fiction character in one of Octavia Butler's books. Most of her books are about people who have various forms of intuition. I wonder if she's an intuitive.

At least it's not that bad for me. I met a woman in college who could literally tell when things were going to happen. She kept her ability very secret, and I only found out about it because I tapped into her once and asked her about it. She said she never shared her ability with anyone because it was just too dangerous for her, even though she had learned to turn it off. She said she could pass someone by and know whether they were going to die the next moment. She hated it and feared her own powers.

I have some tapes that are supposed to harmonize your brain patterns, and I've been listening to them to help me from picking perceptions up. I'm thinking that maybe if my brain waves were more in harmony, I wouldn't be so vulnerable to other people's thoughts and feelings. It seems be working right now anway. The tapes are also great for relaxing so maybe I feel better because I'm less stressed.

Maybe working long hours at work is starting to pay off. I'm off to North Carolina in June for a 3-day seminar. I love travelling to different states, even if it's just for business. I get to stay in a hotel, rack up mileage on my airline cards, eat out, and schmooze with other people.

I hope I'll have the chance to sightsee but I doubt it. The seminar starts Sunday and ends Tuesday afteroon. I hear Raleigh, North Carolina is a nice place, and I'll be staying at the Washington Duke Inn & Golf Club, which is a Four-Diamond hotel nestled in 300 acres of tall pines and hardwoods and located on the campus of Duke University.

All I know about Duke is that they've got a consistently well-run college basketball team, from my memories of my March madness gambling ventures.

Then in July, I fly down to LA for a conference. It will be a one day trip, flying in the morning and coming back at night. But at least I'm travelling, and that to me is a good thing.

I continued by japanese film festival this weekend, and rented Throne of Blood by Akira Kurosawa and Zatoichi 2: The Tale of Zatoichi Continues by Kazuo Mori.

These were two great samurai movies, fully of bloody fight scenes, great samurai costumes, and lots and lots of great swordplay.

Throne of Blood is Kurosawa's adapation of Macbeth done in feudal warlord japanese history. The ending is great and very, very horrific. Kurosawa's ending scene makes Tarantino's violence in Kill Bill look very tame.

Zatoichi is just fun to watch because he's blind and still a yakuza and a great warrior, and women are always falling in love with him and telling how great he is in bed. That's so funny to me.

It's take me forever to read "A Thousand of Acres". It's hard to read a book where the characters are doing stupid things just because they can't help themselves. I have that running conversation about my own life, so why do I have to read out people doing it in their lives?

I'm reading all of Octavia Butler's books. I just finished reading Clay's Ark by Octavia Butler. Her books are much more interesting to read and much more thought provoking for me. But it's science fiction and I'm finding it's just more fun to read than regular old human drama, the kind of stuff you see as a movie on Lifetime TV.

I had such a lazy, lazy weekend. I didn't leave the house at all on Saturday. I stayed in and cleaned and puttered around the house. I was planning to go out, but then it felt so go to be leisurely and be a bum. I did clean up and get things picked up, so at least my day wasn't completely wasted.

This morning I meant to get up to go to church, but the temptation to sleep in was just too much. I finally roused myself in the afternoon, returned my videos, went to the library to return the books I read and pick up more books that I had requested and had come in, and then did some grocery shopping.

I cooked all the food that was in the fridge, and I now have lunches prepared for four days this week. I like not having to think about what I'm going to bring or buy for lunch every day.

I finally got around to making croutons out of the loaf of country sourdough bread I bought last week. It got really hard, so I popped into the microwave to soften it up and then cut it for homemade croutons. Making homemade crouton is so time consuming, but they taste better than store bought ones.

There's an animated version of The Lord of Rings on TV that I have on in the background. I thought it might fun to watch and compare it to Peter Jackson's movie version. But now I just want to lie in bed, listen to opera arias and read.

For some fun reading ... Top 10 Conspiracy Theories of 2003-2004.

So to make my already shitty week worse, I decided last night I would dress provocatively for my last night of film history class to please the left wing Hollywood movie professor. God only knows why because his politics exclude him from ever having a permanent role in my life, but the nasty part of me that his politics don't preclude him from summer flingie status.

Yes, thoughts about having a wild sexual flingie with my rotund extremely left wing film history professor have been popping into my head again like some kind of dangerous contagion. Like I have no idea if Mr. Hollywood Left Winger even finds me attractive, but that doesn't seem to matter to my diseased love starved brain. Okay, so the guy did come up me to last week and thank me for not being afraid to vomit my ultra conservative right wing thoughts in class, but does that mean the man is desperate to jump my creaky bones?

But back to this morning. So I put on this black knit skirt that a friend said was totally too thigh high and wore my black mary janes shoes with the two inch heels, which I decided in the middle of day are really hooker shoes in disguise. I'm not a shoe person, but I think I have a thing for liking two dollar hooker shoes.

I used to own a pair of ankle high black suede boots with a fake fur top and three inch spikey heels that I saw at a shop on Portobello Road in London. They were dirt cheap and on sale, so of course I had to buy them. I didn't seem them in the states for at least four years, and by the time they were the rage in all the stores here in San Francisco I was already bored with them.

I used to call them my hooker poodle boots or my hooker poodley boots, because the fake fur top made them look shaved poodle legs. They were scary as hell to walk in especially when going down hill, but they were so fun to wear. I even wore them to work once and got quite a few stares at work and walking through downtown San Francisco. One guy I used to date loved my shoes and concurred with my idea that they were shoes only a hooker would wear, or someone who likes to look they wear hooker shoes.

Those shoes reminded me that I used to own another pair of shoes with a strap across the ankle, which is like so hooker looking. Only these shoes didn't have heels and had thick rubber bottoms like platform shoes, so I called them my hook clodhopper shoes. They were black suede and I found them in a closeout bin at the Esprit outlet.

So I'm wearing the way too short at my age and my weight black knit skirt, black tights, my black hooker mary janes shoes with the two inch heels, a white scoop necked tshirt, and of course because I was going to work and I couldn't be too tasteless for TV, a pink cashmere cable sweater. I also had a necklace one and some earrings. But it's the two inch heels hooker mary jane shoes and the totally too short black knit skirt that gets the most attention.

And I was so uncomfortable at work with those shoes. My stride is long and when I'm wearing two inch heels I'm always on a slant and I have to take smaller steps which just freaks me out. Then I kept thinking I got weird looks from people at the office, like they were whispering that I was way too fat and my bum looked so enormous in my too tight short knit black skirt. And those hooker shoes? What's up with that?

I was so cursing myself for dressing to please a guy, something I almost never do normally, except for when I really like a guy and that's only been three times that I can remember: 1) always for Steve, the one who got away, 2) for the soccer player guy from England because he demanded I dress to please him, and 3) for my acting teacher who kept casually stating that he wished women would wear more skirts. And now I can add a fourth time for my portly Ira.

But of course since my week was stressful, today was just as stressful so that by the time I got to film history class I was in very foul mood and in no mood to talk to anyone. I kept thinking I should put a note to him in the envelope we had to give to him to mail our tests back in, which gave him my name and phone number and telling him I'd like to get together.

I mean, I could have done that couldn't I? But of course I chickened out, and rationalized to myself that I wanted to take at least two more classes from him and how would that work if I had a summer flingie with him. So no note, no conversation, and I don't think I even smiled at him because I was stressed. And then me being mad at myself the whole bus ride home because I had worn my stupid provocative outfit for nothing, and now my feet were seriously killing me.

Dressing to please a guy, what a bother! It never works out anyway. Steve, the one that got away, never appreciated it. He never know how I agonized over what I wore when we went out on dates, and how I seriously deliberated whether he would find my outfit attractive. Stupid english soccer guy never thought I dressed sexy enough for him, and stupid acting teacher guy ended up being such a new york city whiner.

And if I don't please to dress a guy, then I get comments like the ones I got from Chris, the hot as hell pretty marina jock guy, who used to obliquely chastise me for not wearing outfits that showed my rack more. And he only said that because as it turned out, the guy liked dating women with fake giant cow udder breasts. At least my rack was real.

So no fat Mr. Hollywood left winger in my bed this summer, and maybe that's a good thing I guess.

I don't know what's wrong wtih me these days. I feel so stressed out at work. I don't know if I'm just paranoid, but maybe the honeymoon with my employer is over. I don't know. I just feel so stresed out, but I know it's not just me. Everyone around me is stressed out as well. One of my bosses had a huge red rash on his face, and when I asked him about it he said it was stress related.

I know I should feel grateful for my job, but I'm not. And that's definitely not a good thing. There's this new guy in my group, who used to be ad account manager, who is now an admin assistant. Now that's tough. I've never had it that tough. I don't envy him, and I kind of feel bad for him too. But he's a nice guy, and he's trying desperately hard to move up so he's all happy and cheery. And I envy him, and sometimes get mad at him for being so happy.

It makes me feel like I should be that way. I should be walking around all happy and grateful just to have a job, but I don't feel that way and it kind of freaks me out. Instead two months in, I feel fat, overworked, stressed and tired. One of the guys in the department said everybody new in the company looks shell shocked for the first few months, so he told me it was normal.

The ad guy who's now an admin assistant transferred from another group, and there's another new guy who was contractor for two years before they hired him in my department. The guy has a PhD from John Hopkins and he had two consult for two years before the company would hire him.

So you see, I'm not that bad off. So why do I just feel that way. I've got to fix my attitude though. I don't want it to look like I'm walking around all angry all the itme, even though that's what I feel like.

Sometimes I think I just don't work smart enough and it takes me forever to do anything, and my bosses are mentally making notes what a bad and slow worker I am. Or it takes me three times before I get something right.

I had to write an executive summary, and my boss kept sending it back saying it was too long and it needed a 30,000 foot view. I had no idea how to write the darn thing, and it was so frustrating. Finally when I saw the final copy it was just bullet points and four sentences.

My boss kept sending me emails begging me to write the cliff notes version of a 20 page presentation. She said senior execs just want to take a guick glance at was presented, and then if they wanted more info they could read the attached presentation.

I don't think I'll ever get used to writing the "30,000 foot" view. And I feel bad that I think that, and stupid and dumb as hell that it took me three hours to figure out how to write four sentences and with about four bullet points each.

I can't wait for my work week to be over. I'm starting to think I hate my job, but I haven't been in it long enough to hate it. Maybe it's just not a good fit, and I'm only now starting to realize it. Even if it wasn't a good fit, it's not like there's any place for me to go.

If there is one good thing about being back in a busy corporate office, it's how much I appreciate coming home at the end of the day and having my weekends off.

I wish I could just detach myself from my job, and just leave at 5 pm. I have to start doing that. I am definitely taking my job way too seriously, and getting all stressed out for nothing.

I've stopped writing because I'm so stressed. Thank god, I haven't stop reading. Reading is very relaxing for me. Reading feels like an escape from my dreary world. Writing used to feel that way, but now it just feels like something else I have to do, something else I have to excel in, something else I have to stress about.

I'm staring to realize that writing is really like a job. I've got keep doing it regularly to get good, and keep doing it even when I feel like total shit. This attitude feels so wrong somehow. Writing used to be so fun, so escapist for me. I used to be able to escape in my writing, and start living in the world I was writing about. I used to find it relaxing to pretend to be someone else in my writing. I've got to figure out how to bring the fun back into my writing.

I think I just figured out why my new job is less than enjoyable right now. I'm so busy that I can't enjoy the feeling of accomplishment of doing things. As soon as I finish one project, I'm on to the next project.

My old boss told me that my new company was in really bad financial times a few years ago. They were losing money and not doing well. Then they got this huge, huge contract and that really pulled them out of the red ink.

I think because the new company has gone through some hard times, it feels like they're always playing catch-up. They're always running to keep up with the competition. The new company instituted a new policy of "expecting the unreasonable". I think one of my bosses takes it too far, but it's not just her. All the managers are trying to do that. The thing is, you can only do that if you know your people really well and you're not already understaffed.

Whatever. I know my attitude about my job has to change, or I'll just be very unhappy at work. And I can't spend 8-10 hours a day feeling unhappy. I just have to figure out a way to adapt my working style to the company's without stressing myself out. Maybe that means not leaving right at 5 pm, but leaving at 5:30 pm and then not worrying about my job. It all works out anyway, and I think I've forgotten this dictum these last few days.

I have major workaholic tendencies myself, so I know I can't blame my unhappiness soley on my job. I just have to transfer my workaholicness to my writing and away from my job. I know part of my unhappiness these last few days has been because I haven't been writing. Whatever I get out of writing, it must be enough to make me go through some serious withdrawal like symptoms when I stop doing it.

This week was especially hard though because I had my film history final tonight, and I spent every night since last Friday trying to study. I worked out on Saturday and Sunday, but didnt' write. Then I spent the rest of the week studying and didn't write or work out.

That's weird isn't it? For me to think that I'm going withdrawal because I'm not writing, like writng is a drug to me. If writing is a drug, I have no idea what I'm getting out of it. What's up with that? I'm not getting any tangible benefits, but I'm going through withdrawal when I don't write. But the whole whidrawal theory so makes sense, and as soon as I came up with the thought it was as if a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders because it feels so good when I figure things out and it makes sense inwardly.

I had the weirdest dream this morning. I dreamt I was in a relationship with some guy I knew when I was in junior high. I was in junior high and he was a senior in highs school. I only knew him because he used to pull on my braids when he walked by me. I was 13 years old and I wore my hair in braids.

But like I was such an innocent 13 year old, that I just thought it was so annoying that some guy I didn't even know was pulling on my hair. It wasn't till I was much older did it occur to me that maybe that guy him was like flirting wtih me or something. I don't know, because there was some other guy who used to pull on my braids as well. It's still such a mystery to me.

Anyway, I think I dreamt about this guy because when I was home last summer I found out that he had run for mayor of my island and lost. The guy from junior high was really smart, and went to USC and then went on to law school.

When I first heard the story all I remembered about the guy, his name was Randall, was he was that annoying senior freak who couldn't stop pulling on my hair. I couldn't believe he had come back home, opened up his own law practice and then tried to unsuccessfully run for mayor. How bizarre is that?

In the dream, we were together but here and not at home. Only the dream was kind of fuzzy, because then Randall the laywer island guy turned into this other guy I met a few years ago who was in law school here in San Francisco. So maybe I just had a dream about marrying lawyers or something. But it was so weird to dream about that guy from junior high, because I haven't seen the boy since junior high.

Just thinking about it gives me the creeps. I was 13 years old and the guy was 17 or 18 years old and pulling on my braids. What was up with that? And my poor 13 year old did not know what the heck was going on? Not that being older makes a difference, because I'm just as foggy about men and their actions now as I was at age 13. Clueless!

I finally started reading "A Thousand Acres" by Jane Smiley. I couldn't help myself, but I had to read the last chapter to see how it ended. It's a bad habit I have. I wish I didn't because now I'm disappointed. Oh well. I think I would have been disappointed whether I read the ending or not.

In the screenwriting class I took a couple of weeks ago, the Hollywood guy said that most characters in movies are very unaware. I remember sitting there and thinking that movies must be like Oprah books then, because the character in her book pick are dreadfully unaware. The characters in these books are so unaware of the consequences of their actions that all I want to do is slap them and make them get into therapy.

I mean, not that I'm not that self aware myself, but honestly the people in some of the Oprah books I've read aren't even the kind of people who would watch Oprah. What's up with that?

I'm specifically thinking of the book "House of Sand and Fog". The woman in that book was so silly to me. I was so unsympathetic to her character, that I really did not care what happened to her. I only finished the book because I wanted to find out what would happen to the persian people.

I got the same reaction from reading "White Oleander". After awhile I was like when is this character going to get it? When is she going to watch Oprah or go to the library and borrow a self help book and read it and learn?

I have a feeling "A Thousand Acres" is an Oprah book,and I'm going to end up hating the characters. I don't know this for a fact, but I've got a bad feeling about it. I just don't like characters who aren't very smart or who don't make an effort to get it together and fight against doing stupid things.

I don't know, maybe because I so relate to them and can't admit that to myself or I really can't relate to them and can't even find compassion in my heart to feel sympathy for their plight. I need characters to fight a little against their worst impulses, or at the very least, think about it a little and feel some kind of remorse. And then if they need to, give into their worst impulses, but at least go into the situation with their eyes open just a little, instead of tightly closed.

I want them to be like moths drawn to the flame, trying to fight the flame, but drawn to it nonetheless, only to get burned and die. But I think I want character to be like moths, because that's how I sometimes feel about my life. I'm that moth, and I get drawn to the flame, and I get burned, only I don't die. I get bruised as all heck, but I don't die. Not yet anyway. I just get up and keep on flying, because what else if there to do but keep going on.

Buying clothes is much more relaxing to think about than what is going on in the news. I have been deliberately avoiding the whole Nick Berg thing, because honestly I do not want to see someone beheaded. What is point of witnessing such cruelty, especially when the reports said the idiots took a long time to do it.

Beheading was once reserved for royalty, think England for example, because you get killed quickly and relatively painlessly. Those terrorists forgot to read their instruction booklet on beheading because they completely botched the whole thing up.

Honestly! If you have to behead someone, at least do it right and don't mess around with taking too long. It's like that scene in the movie "The Green Mile", where the evil prison guard deliberately forgot to wet the sponge for the death row inmate's head. And then when they tried to fry the guy, they literally ended up frying the guy and burning his hair and head because there wasn't any water to conduct the electricity quickly and easily to kill the person.

Maybe that's the point though, it was supposed to be torture and not a mercy killing but my point is the same. Why does anyone want to watch such things? It's like people on the freeway having to slow down whenever they see an accident, because they have to see how bad it really is. How entertaining is that to see a car with people in it on fire or someone's head through a windshield or hanging bizarrely outside a car window like the neck was made of rubber.

Nothing much to write about other than the fact that I'm now obsessed with buying silk skirts. I just picked up two the other day, and they are so fabulous to wear for the summer. Since they're silk, they look dressy and I can wear them to parties but they're light and fun enough to wear casually as well.

The same catalog also has two more silk duponi skirts but in brown and green checks. Very gingham and so summery. I am tempted to buy them just because they're silk, but I keep hesitating because I don't own brown shoes or brown sweaters. The other two skirts matched easily to things I already owned, so the choice was easy. But brown and green?

And I don't know. Do I really want brown and green checks emphasizing the size and width of my bum? Plus I'm thinking the brown and green gingham just aren't as versatile to wear all year round and they may be a little too dressy for work but not dressy enough to wear at night. I mean gingham is so day wear!

My film history professor, Ira Mr. Liberal Hollywood left winger, came up to me during the break in class last night and thanked me volunteering alternative opinions during class. He said it made him think differently about things, and he was glad I made an effort to participate.

What an odd comment! Of course cynical me was thinking, are you thanking me for pointing out the left wing liberal view is not the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

We were discussing Michael Moore's latest new film and how Disney wasn't going to distribute it. And I decided to pipe up and say, but that's what happened to Mel Gibson's movie, "The Passion of the Christ". Gibson put up his own money to make the film and found his own distributor, because Hollywood wouldn't go near a "christian" movie with a 10 foot pole. But you never heard an uproar in the press about Gibson being treated unfairly in Hollywood like what you're hearing about Michael Moore.

And why is that I wonder? Because Christian films are not a 'cause du jour' for the liberal left wing media? I wanted to add that you can't just say Michael Moore, a supposed left wing nut case, gets the shaft by Hollywood without saying that so does a supposed right wing christian nut case like Mel Gibson.

But of course nobody in class wanted to say that because it's so not politically correct in San Francisco to defend anything Christian even when you know the Christian thing is being treated just as unfairly as the left wing thing. And it's that kind of hypocrisy on either side of the political spectrum that just makes me madder than a hatter.

Sometimes I wish I could just date to date, and have fun and not be too concerned about the future. But I can't. I am this point in my life where I want to be with my true love, and if can't be with him then I'd rather be alone.

I have enough guilty conversations with myself about time and what I need to be doing, that I don't need to complicate my life even more by mindless dating. I wish I could date and not care, but I can't. Believe me, if I could change my attitude towards love I would.

It sucks to be alone, to not have companionship, to not have someone to do things with like watch football or baseball games with and just hang and drink beer and laugh and make out during the breaks. But if I can't have true love, then what's the point.

I have so many other things to occupy myself with like my writing, taking classes, reading, working out, and all the other things I manage to fill up my days with.

But wanting true love is such a hard way to go. Plus I have requirements now that I won't compromise on like our religious views have to compatible. I am so not going to live the rest of my life with a guy that I'm going to have serious religious differences with.

I will compromise to a certain extent on politics, although I draw the line at any guy who voted for Nader or other types like him. I would rather marry a loyal party republican who voted for the Shrubmeister than someone who was silly enough to go green in 2000, and who now complains about the state of the country.

But who am I kidding? When do I have time to date? I don't even have time to do the thing I most want to do which is writing, so it's not like I have any time to spend dating and getting to know someone.

I hate having this ongoing conversation in my head about not having enough time for the things that are important in my life.

I've been reading again, and I'm excited. 7 books since about April I think. That's a book a week for me. Granted they're small paperbacks that I can keep in my purse, but still a book a week is good for me.

Finally made myself finish "Silas Mariner" by George Elliot. That book made me cry. I think I'm going to end up like poor old Silas Mariner one day, with no Eppie to rescue me. Sad, sad, sad!!! The ending of the book made me cry, but it's TOM time so my mones are raging. There were a couple of chapters I just skimmed because they were just dialogue, and it was hard to get through, but other than that Miss Elliot made some very good observations about life in her book.

Now I'm reading this book about a mentally ill patient's journey from insanity to sanity, called "I never promised you a rose garden". The book has reaffirmed what I've always believed, that mental illness is a defense mechanism that the brain uses to survive reality. The human body is built to survive. So if you're in a seemingly threatening situation that your mind can't handle, your mind will do things to enable you to keep going. What we call mental illness is just one of those defense mechanisms that the mind creates in order to help the body to survive traumatic events. Some events are so traumatic and scary to some people that if they didn't find a way to mentally escape, they would literally collapse and die. And yes sometimes they do, but most times a mental illness just develops.

You know how there's "fight or flight" syndrome. Mental illness is the extreme of "flight". Your mind literally collapses in on itself to flee, and creates worlds for the person to survive in, creates people to help the person survive. Of course they're all in the person's head, made up and not real, but the affected person doesn't know that.

I'm reading this book and wondering if I'm crazy, if there aren't places or things I've made up in my head to shield myself from a harsher reality. I had this same kind of feeling when I finished watching "A Beautiful Mind". I wondered for awhile if the people I knew were real or made up. Russell Crowe's character figured out that the imaginary people don't age, even when you do. But everyone I know has aged even quicker than I have, so I guess this must mean I really don't have an imaginary friend.

Sometimes I wonder what I do all weekend because the time seems to go by so quickly, but here's what I did.

Saturday:
Woke up late and didn't get out the door till noon
picked up drycleaning
took 3 skirts to tailor to be hemmed
went to the Asian Art Museum to have lunch and check out the exhibits. There was a great exhibit by a Thai artist, where you walked through a small temple with curtains of beads filled with herbs and incense. The smell was so cool!
worked out for 1 hour.
went through clothes hamper to get clothes read for laundry
cleaned up bedroom

Sunday:
woke up early
went to 8:45 am mass
worked out for 1 hour
went to Whole Paycheck at 4th and Harrison to buy products and have lunch
did laundry
went Trader Joe's to do grocery shopping
opened up laptop and worked on two spreadsheets for a meeting I had on Monday at work and watched Harry Potter

I know I did alot this weekend, but I have the feeling I could be doing mor. Like writing. I did no writing this weekend, which is so bad for me. I made plans on Saturday and on Sunday, but I couldn't fit it in.

I think I need to do this exercise I did in a seminar once, where you keep track of your time by the hour for a week. The purpose of the exercise was to see where your time went, and to see if there things you were doing that were either time wasters or if there were holes where you could fit something in.

I hate having a conversation in my head about time, and this is the only way to put a stop to the noise.

I went to Starfbombs the other day to write and ended up picking their CD of an hour's worth of Willie Nelson's most influential songs, Wille Nelson's Artist Choice. They've also got cds by Sheryl Crowe and Johnny Cash.

I seem to remember posting about this before, but since I had to do warm up exercise before my writing ... here's my artist choice pick of songs for my cd.

1. Boys Don't Cry by The Cure
2. Head by Prince
3. Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Beach Boys
4. She loves You by The Beatles
5. Candy Says by The Velvet Underground
6. Man in the Box by Alice in Chains
7. Happy Shiny People by REM
8. Jane Says by Jane's Addiction
9. Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd
10. Blowing in the Wind by Bob Dylan
11. Suite Judy Blue Eyes by Crosby Stills Nash and Young
12. Love Will Tear Us Apart Again by Joy Division
13. Ghetto Superstar by Pras Michel featuring ‘Ol Dirty Bastard and introducing Miya
14. Let’s Stay Together by Al Green
15. It's My life by No Doubt
16. Fool in the Rain by Led Zeppelin
17. Crazy for You by Madonna
18. Brown Sugar by The Rolling Stones

I think it's supposed to be an hour's worth of song, but I haven't added up the time. This list is so hard and I keep wanting to change it, but these 18 songs mean something to me. I could write a biographical short story about each song, and why it belongs on the list.

Today is national prayer day. If you pray, pray to whom or whatever you believe in for peace in this crazy world of ours.

So many bad headlines ....

there's a new way of transmitting SARS

some economists are predicting another bear market gas prices are going through the roof and there will be
a huge trickle effect to the price of everything else because of this

world grain production has fallen short of consumption

experts see new animal diseases hitting humans

experts keep chiming in on the likelihood of a real estate crash

then there are the wars, all the wars, and the constant threat of terror everywhere in the world.

I pray for peace. I think of all the bad things happening in the world and the bad things people are doing to other people and I release them to Holy Spirit and God's justice. I pray that people everywhere find the love and all the intimate connection they want. I pray that I'm fulfilling the divine purpose for my life. I pray the health and economic well being of all my friends and acquaintances daily. I pray that I spread love and kindness instead of hatred and unkindness in my words, deeds and thoughts and pray that everyone else do the same.

There's all this talk of banning people who support abortion rights from taking communion in the catholic church. What about banning people who kept quiet about child molestor priests?

What's worse, abortion or molesting a child or teenager? Statistics say that about half the kids who were molested as children or as teenagers end up killing themselves because of what was done to them. The child molestor priest or whomever might as well have killed them with a gun.

The bible says as you sow so shall ye reap. I don't think the catholic church has right to cast the first stone at anyone as there is much hanky panky going on in their own house. The rumors say more than half the catholic priests in the USA are gay ... what was that catholic church policy and view about homosexuality again?

It was Youth Sunday at church where the teenybops lead the service. They chose the song "Here I am Lord" as the closing hymn. What a tear jerker of a song! It makes me cry every time I hear the chorus. It's such a great camp song too!

Here I am Lord
Words and Music by Daniel L Schutte
copyright 1981

Genesis 46:2
"And God spake unto Israel in the visions of the night, and said, Jacob, Jacob. And he said, Here am I."

I, the Lord of sea and sky,
I have heard my people cry.
All who dwell in dark and sin
My hand will save.

I who made the stars of night,
I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send?

Chorus: Here I am, Lord. Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my peoples pain.
I have wept for love of them.
They turn away.

I will break their hearts of stone,
Give them hearts for love alone.
I will speak my word to them.
Whom shall I send?

Repeat Chorus and try to stop from crying.

I, the Lord of wind and flame
I will tend the poor and lame
I will set a feast for them
My hand will save

Finest bread I will provide
Till their hearts be satisfied
I will give my life to them
Whom shall I send?

Repeat Chorus and cry uncontrollably!

Here's the SFGate.com's review of "Syvlia", Morris' 'Sylvia' forgoes showy dancing for an old-fashioned, irony-free romance.

On Sunday, we saw Yuan Yuan Tan and the dancer talked about in the review. It might be fun to see it again with a different dancer.

Then on Sunday I went to see the San Franciso ballet. I had a three-performance subscription, and this was our last one. The performance was Mark Morris' Sylvia. "Mark Morris' world premiere is the first complete staging of Sylvia ever created for an American company."

The ballet was colourful and sweet, but not very challenging for the dancers. Morris is no Balanchine, but the balled was well done. Morris is more clever and interesting than innovative I think.

Then my friend and I decided to go to Chevy's afterwards to have an early Cinco de Mayo celebration, and I had a huge mojito and we split a shrimp and crab quesadilla, which was so heavenly. I had such a nice buzz by the time I left the restaurant, that by the time I got home I was so sleepy I went straight to bed. I thought I would only take a short nap and work, but I couldn't wake myself up so I just kept on sleeping.

I did workout at my friend's health club before we went to ballet. She was showing off her snazzy new very expensive ($70/month), which is just a few blocks from her home. The health club provides towels, has a separate women's sauna, and lots of free beauty products in the locker room. There's also a nice pool for swimming laps and a racquetball court.

It was nice but that's a ton of money to pay for the club. It's good for my friend because it's such an incentive to have a gym within a five minute walk from your front door. But for me, I'd still have to drive and probably pay for parking to go to the gym there, and at their other location. Besides their gym equipment wasn't that up to date, and I didn't see free weight room.

The weekend was so busy, I didn't even touch my work laptop. Memo to self: when you have events planned on both weekend days, it's not a good idea to bring work home because you won't have time to do it.

On Saturday, I headed down south to Palo Alto to go to a writing seminar on how to write a love story, "Michael Hauge: SEX, LIES AND LONGING: Creating Powerful Love Stories for Your Novel or Screenplay." It was probably one of the best seminars I've attended, and I learned a new way to create a plot structure.

The class was full of people who had already published their own books, were in movie development deals with Hollywood, had agents, and were way more advanced in their writing career than I am. These people were serious writers, all looking to score their first pot of gold by selling a screenplay to Hollywood.

One woman I ate lunch with had published two children's books, one non-fiction book, had an agent, an editor and a publisher, but said at the end that her writing wasn't a money-making venture. I think there were a ton of people in her shoes at the seminar. Half the people there were novelists who had switched to screenwriting or were adapting their novels for the screen because Hollywood pays more money than book publishers.

There were even a few women who stood up and said they were romance novelists. I was talking to a woman at the break who was a budding romance novelist, and telling her that I would love to be a romance novelist. I just never seem to create characters and stories that have happy endings. Even the "love story" that I'm trying to write called "Texas is a state of mind" has a bittersweet ending. The budding romance novelist said my "love story" isn't a love story if my characters don't end up in love and together at the end. Sad isn't it?

I was so inspired about my writing because of the seminar that I went to the library today, and rewrote one of my short stories to fit into his plot structure. I didn't think my short story would fit in his structure, but it did. I spend much time plotting out structure, even for a short story, so his way of plotting is not that different than what I've been doing.

Hauge's plot structure is nice because it ties up loose ends in a way I never thought possible before. He's a firm believer in character arcs, and it's a great way to structure a story that's very satisfying I think to a reader. Hauge said we could apply his plot structure to any story, and not just to screenplays.

I liked the seminar leader alot. He gave a really sweet writers pep talk at the end, which made me want to cry. He was so spiritual without ever being new agey, religious or maudlin. The guy was definitely genuine, and knew his stuff. I bought his book, which he signed and two cd-sets of his of two of his other seminars. One of the seminars was a comparison of his plot structure to Christopher Vogler, who wrote "The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers". The two of them critique each other's methods in the seminar. Vogler's book is inspired by the work of mythologist Joseph Campbell, so it will be interesting to see how the Hauge's structure compares to Joseph Campbell's hero's journey.

So I broke down and brought my laptop home. I just have way too much work to do, and with all the meetings I attend during the week, I need a couple hours of solid uninterrupted time to get some of my work done.

My bosses are already starting to question my workload, and I'm like, you're the ones who keep dumping stuff on me, stuff I had no idea I was going to do when I first signed up. Nobody told me writing was going to be one of my main duties. Okay so I probably write better than your average employee, but still ... it's not what I signed up for.

My bosses tell me my writing is easy to understand. From reading some of the internal memoes I've had to plough through, I can see why. People try to sound so intelligent and make things so complicated, but when you really start to dig apart what they're actually trying to say, you realize that what they're doing or writing up makes no sense.

But hey it's written up so it takes someone even with a college education, an hour to read. What a waste of an hour, especially when you find out that the project the person was trying to write about was total BS, the methodology was messed up, and the analysis made no sense. Sometimes people in business think window dressing is going to make up for a badly designed and executed analysis or project. I don't think so!

I finished reading "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". It was fun, and now I feel like I have to read the whole series of books. It reminded so much of the brit scifi show "Red Dwarf", which I totally adore.

I'm now reading "The Parable of the Talents" by Octavia E. Butler, the second book after "Parable of the Sower". It's not as frightening as the first book, but it's a bit spooky nonetheless. Butler's premise seems to be that despite all our modern technology, nothing has changed. When you take away the modern technology from people and go back into survival mode, institutions like slavery and the evil things like the Inquisition or collobaration with the nazis that the catholic church did return in full blown cruelty but with modern new twists.

I suppose that's true in a way, that we're never really that far away from the events that we now in modern society say was barbaric and wrong. Slavery and child prostitution still exist in the world, and people still get killed in the name of religion all the time. Only now some of us calll it "an exercise in religious freedom and liberation from an oppressive society."

I bought a new mini stereo system for the living room, since the writing group was coming over. The old mini boom box now sits in my bedroom.

I went to one of those chain stereo places to get it after work not thinking it would have been smart to drive my car there so I could take it home. Instead, I hauled the box home on Muni and suffered the pitying stares of people thinking I was too poor to take a cab or own a car, and had to drag my huge box home on public transportation.

The box wasn't heavy, it was just bulky and hard to carry. By the time I got to my front door, my arms were like jelly. Still it was worth it to do because the new system fits in the space where the old one was, something I was very worried about and the sound is pretty good for a mini system.

My next task it to get a new tv, vcr and dvd player this weekend. I'm so tempted to buy a bigger tv but then it wouldn't fit where I have the old tv now. If I bought a thing to put a bigger tv on, I'd have to arrange some of my furniture to accomodate the size and I'm not in the mood to do that. Plus since I'll be probably hauling the tv home myself, I have to think about how much it's going to weigh and if I have the strength to carry it up to my apartment.

And even after all that's done, I have to figure out what to do with my old tv. I wonder if Goodwill or the Salvation Army will take it? I wanted to put into my bedroom, but it's too big. Besides, having a tv in my bedroom is too tempting. I'd end up watching it more and falling asleep to it.

I got the tv cable guy to put a cable wire in my bedroom, just in case I wanted to go that route, But a smaller TV would fit better in my bedroom. Or better yet, no tv at all.

It's so hot I can't sleep. I should open my windows, but then it gets too noisy and I'll keep waking up during the night because of the noise.

A friend invited me to go sailing on the Bay on Saturday. It was such a gorgeous day with no fog. I was in shorts and polo shirt all day and into the night. Usually when you sail on the Bay it gets a little rough sailing back in the aftenoon to where you started from, which in our case was Sausalito.

The tides change and the water flows in and out of the Bay very quickly, and usually the fog and cold wind are rolling in. Not on Saturday. Afterwards, we drank more wine and danced on the boat entertaining and most likely annoying the neighboring boaters who came out to watch.

Sailing is fun. I can see why people really get into. You have to really know what you're doing, and you have to always be aware of so many things. The friend who invited me is a member of the Corinthian Yaht club in Tiburon, and she's being sailing and racing since she was a kid.

The boat we sailed on belonged to a couple who are on a sailing racing with her and her boyfriend, and, they were trying to practice for their next race. Apparently they came in first place last year at the Corinthian Yaht Club boat races.

There is something so ancient about sailing. It's got such a history. I've always wanted to learn to properly sail, but I've never had the chance. My uncle in San Diego was going to teach me to sail the summer I lived them as their nanny, but other than boating a few times on Glorietta Bay we never got around to it.

I'd have to take lessons, join a crew, lose some weight. My friend was telling me that on sailing race day, you have to weigh in. She said that people stand around in their underwear waiting to get weighed, and other racers come up to you and ask you how much you weigh. She said the weight part is all part of achieving maximum boat speed, and every pound counts. I would love to learn how to sail to sail and not to race.

We also saw a bunch of kayakers. Ocean kayaking is such a blast. I would love to buy a kayak so I could go kayaking on the Bay. We also saw some windsurfers. I used to want to learn to windsurf for so long, and even took a couple of lessons. If I windsurfed or kayaked on the San Francisco Bay, I'd have to buy a wetsuit. The water is way too cold to not wear one.

The only saving grace to the whole Chris means instant love thing is I think the real "Chris" that I'm supposed to marry and spend the rest of my life with is supposed to be a strawberry blondie boy with brown eyes.

But I don't know. The strawberry blondie hair and brown eyes requirement might be part of the curse of Steve, the one that got away. Steve was a strawberry blondie boy with brown eyes.

After years of really not caring what a guy looked like and never having prefernces about hair and eye color, I hate that I'm obsessed with marrying a guy with strawberry blondie/red hair and brown eyes. It's so very odd!

I've got this thought in my head that I think I'm supposed to marry a guy name Chris. It's weird as heck, I know, but I met two guys named Chris in the last two years and instantly had crushes on them.

First, there was Chris, the marina hottie boy from screenwriting class who I was like so hot for as soon as he walked into class. Me and every other woman in screenwriting class thought the same thing. This Chris is tall at 6 ft 4 in, has brown hair, pretty blue eyes, does yoga, used to play college football, and has a masters in psychology. Charming too, the guy is fraternity jock boy charming. Snappy dresser as well.

He was so darn cute, I was afraid to talk to him. But then I decided I didn't need him as a distraction in my life, and tried to ignore him. But we ended up becoming very casual friends for awhile, and I had wild fantasies about the two of us getting hitched, us having a previous incarnation together, him being the one - my krishna, etc. But well that fizzled out when I figured out that he wasn't a JC boy, and that his maturity level was right out of fraternity boy jock hell.

Now there's this guy at the new job and his name is Chris, and I'm working with him on a project and I'm so in crush with him. I hardly know the guy, and already I'm in serious crush mode. This Chris is a blondie with blue eyes, and about 5 ft 8 or 9.

The two Chris's couldn't more opposite. Chris # 1 was cute, and while smart wasn't that swift on the uptake. Chris # 2 is an analytical nerd whose intelligence blows me away; the guy is really, really smart. Chris # 1 is quite a fashionable dresserm while Chris # 2 has the totally WASPy preppy wardrobe.

And I'm like in love with both of them. I think they're both so cute! For some reason Chris # 2 is more attractive to me, but I think that is partly due to the fact that he reminds me of Steve. Part of my attraction to Chris # 2 is because of the curse of Steve, the one that got away.

For whatever reason I also feel more comfortable with Chris # 2, but that could be because I met him at work and we're working together on a project and Chris # 2 seems like a very, very nice person. With Chris # 1 I was practically tongue tied with him, but with Chris # 2 I have to talk to him because he's on my project team. I mean I should be more tongue tied with Chris # 2 because he's as cute to me as Chris # 1, but I'm at work and I can't. I have to work with him and be in meetings with him every week.

And I feel bad that I have a crush on Chris # 2 because I work with him. Work relationships are so messy, and because of sexual harrassment I'm afraid of throwing myself at him. And it's awkward because it's not like he's made any indication to me that he's at all interested. He's nice and all when I have to meet with him one on one for the project we're both working on, but it's not like he's been overyly friendly either. I hate having crushes on a guy who might not even be remotely interested. I mean it's San Francisco. Chris # 2 might not even do women. I can't tell anymore, and my gay-dar is definitely not working well.

I hate the whole just because a guy's name is Chris I have to fall in love with him thing. It's bad, bad for my nerves, bad for my self esteem and ego especially when the Chris person doesn't seem that interested.

It's just so weird that these two guys are so different yet I find them both amazingly attractive, and all they have in common is they're both named Chris. Chris # 2 kinda sorta looks like, reminds me of a preppy Christopher Robin from Winnie the Pooh. And Chris # 1 kinda sort looks like a brown haired, blue eyed Charlie Sheen.

I mean there's no other explanation for my attraction to both men, other than to say it's because some part of my being is looking for the Chris that I'm supposd to spend the rest of my life with and live happily ever after.

I'm either really getting old and senile or I'm especially horny or both. I can't tell.

I was talking to my ultra left wing film history teacher last night about the movie "The Piano", when the thought plops into my head that he's kind of an attractive guy and it would be kind of fun to have a flingie with him. And I'm like 'Oh my God!'

First of all, the guy's politics drive me insane. But a very close friend insists that most SF Bay Area men's politics drive me insane, so that's not unusual. But I'm like the guy has a paunchy tummy, which in itself isn't too bad, but I mean the guy really has a paunchy tummy. He's like portly!

He's gotta be over 50 at least, maybe even older. That's like really old for me since I've never had sex with anyone that old. He's got like graying hair, which makes me him look even older.

And last but definitely not least, his name is IRA! And again I repeat, 'Oh my God!'. I'm having sexual thoughts about some older dude guy with a paunchy tummy and graying hair, stupid ultra left wing liberal politics which I abhor intensely, and his first name is IRA! What is up with that?

See what I mean when I say I'm either getting senile and old or I'm bizarrely orny or both.

I just remembered that I turned Puffs on to "The Cure". He never liked their music until he started dating me. I like this thought. It still makes me happy after all these years.

Another blog game, this time with music from Camilo @ Mercurial.

1. Go to your CD rack/shelf/room.
2. Select the 13th CD from the end of your collection
3. What's the 5th track?
4. List it on your blog, with a story of why you purchased this CD.
5. Link back to me - if you wish.

Tracy Chapman - Tracy Chapman
5th track - Baby Can I Hold You

I purchased this cd because I associate Tracy Chapman's hit song "Fast Car" with one on my ex-boyfriends. There's a line in that car that goes:

I remember we were driving driving in your car
The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder And I had a feeling that I belonged
And I had a feeling I could be someone
be someone
be someone.

I can see Puffs and I driving in the rented convertible down to Death Valley to trip on shrooms, and that song playing on the tape he made for the trip. It was the end of our relationship and we were tyring to kind of save it by taking a trip together, hoping against hope that the mini vacation would be full of enough good memories to keep us together just a little bit longer.

Of course that never happened, and we broke up on Sunday morning the day we were driving back home. And walking away from Puffs was so hard, one of the hardest things I've ever done. I liked him so much, despite all the crap he put me, he put us through. And what still makes me sad after all these years is he never quite forgave me for walking away from him. He was happy that I left, even he knew it was the best thing for me, but a part of him felt so betrayed, so hurt that I didn't, couldn't stick around, didn't love him enough to prevent him from killiing himself and dying.

Puffs was such a trip! Mr. Fraternity boy, beautiful, dark haired and blue-eyed and kind of looking like Jack Nicholson, whom he adored. Stinky topsiders, ralph lauren wardrobe, and those huge 100% silky white cotton nordstrom dress shirts of his with the embroidered sailboat on the cuff that I used to wear as a coverup when I was at his place. That awesome incredibly expensive stereo with the sound processor and that glow in the dark sound wave that practically took up his whole living room.

Puffs was so smart, and so much fun to hang with as a drinking buddy, but he liked his bottle and his drugs way too much. But he was such a kick, and so much fun. Like the time he put on one of my silk shorty nightgowns and did a dancing peep show to music. He was so fun!

But the drinking and the drugs and the subsequent depression from it all were way too much for me, for us. And he wouldn't stop, and he never did either until he died a few years ago.

He used to wake up in the middle of night and grab me and hug me and tell "we were twins", which delighted and simultaneously scared the willies out of me because he was such a messed up person. Fun as heck but really, really very messed. Puffs had a heart of gold and would never hurt a fly, but he covered it all up with drinks and drugs and cigarettes.

Maybe I'm having a Puffs haunting right now. I hope he's happy in death, I hope he's at peace. I hope the demons which plagued his dreams every night have been laid to rest and he can finally sleep through the night without waking up because of a bad dream.

Grabmusik by Mozart

I liked the text of Grabmusik by Mozart so much that I wanted to put some of it in my blog.

I. Recitative, The soul - Wo bin ich?
Where am I? Bitter pain? Ah, the source of all love, my repose, my comfort, the goal of my striving, my holy Jesus' heart that stirs no more, has emptied his blood and his life. Here the wounds still drip with blood. What bitter steel has torn assunder the heart of the best-beloved and the sweetest?

II. Aria, The Soul - Felsen spaltet euren Rachen
Boulders, split your thoughts and mourn and wail with wretched clangor; Stars and moon and sun, take flight, while mourning Nature grieves with me. Below, thunder! Flames and lightning rage on in unison against this deed of madness which has wounded Jesus' heart.

VI. Duet, The Soul and the Angel - Jesu, was hab' ich getan?
Jesus, what have I done? I have inflicted your wounds and sent you to the cross. Look on my heart's remorse. You suffered these wounds to gain for us salvation and mercy. This I shall resolve: that I shall love thee: and that I shall never grieve thee; Forgive me, sacred heart.

Epilogue: Ave Vernum Corpus
Jesus, word of God incarnate, of the Virgin Mary born, on the cross thy sacred body. For us, with nails, was torn. Cleanse us by the blood and water streaming from thy pierced side. Feed us with thy body broken, now and in death's agony.