everything is spectacular, everything is normal.

I'm bored. I'm almost always bored. And if you're bored it means you're boring, right? That's what "they" say. I'm almost always bored and I'm not sure if it's because I expect something ridiculous from the world or if this is millennial ennui, or both. Maybe they're one and the same. Entertain me all the time and make it fucking amazing, otherwise, meh. Been there, done that, act like you've been here before.

When I'm out on a boat I get amused by the people taking endless photos of the skyline with their phones because I was that person, and 9/10 times it all looks the same. It's amazing, but even the amazing can become mundane. I stopped taking skyline shots awhile ago, unless there is some insane fog or storm or another wildcard that changes it up. During my trip to the British Virgin Islands I quickly became used to waking up in tropical coves, it just felt natural and normal to me, and I worried I lost my ability to find wonder and amazement in the world. Everything is spectacular, everything is normal.

I'm always afraid I'm boring, but I also really don't want to be over the top. It's a constant battle. Be interesting, but not crass. Make people remember you, but don't try to hard. Find perfection within your imperfections. God, what's the point?

I don't want to be jaded.

I like seeing and appreciating and keeping it all to myself. I know that the photo won't do it justice and most of the time just frustrates the show-er and the viewer. Which is ironic because I absolutely love film and photography.

I find myself watching hours upon hours of TV and videos online. Get home, take off pants, type in password, consume, consume, consume. Just constantly devouring other people's creations because the fear of not being interesting literally stymies me to a complete stop. And not the new age literally that really means figuratively, I actually stop and sit on my bed watching bullshit. I need to be better about doing, creating, being more. And doing this in an authentic way. There's no point in copying unless you do it better.

Earlier today I found myself trying to think of topics and ways to write that would get me the most likes, and I got really pissed off at myself. That's so reductive, and not at all what I want to accomplish with this, and frankly, shameful. I could blame Zuckerberg, but it's definitely not his fault.

I'm not entirely sure what I need to do to stop boring myself, but I do know I need to stop thinking "I'll start (learning French, practicing my ukulele, actually editing together clips to make videos) when I (make more money, find a new apartment)." because that isn't getting me anywhere but bored.

It's boring just to write this, but maybe that's just the ADHD talking. Oh well, guess it's time for me to get back to The Good Wife, I have three episodes banked.

xotap

Tomorrow is my best friend's 30th birthday. I have a tier of best friends, but he's been up there and very consistent for almost 12 years now, so he's extra super duper special. 

Until he moved to DC We were always there for each other's birthdays. But his then girlfriend, now fiancé, moved to DC and it made sense for him to follow, especially since he's a government kind of dude. Anyway, he's going to be 30 and I'm not going to be there. I feel simultaneously guilty and jealous. He would think that's silly, but that's the truth. 

We met freshman year at band camp, he was wearing an oversized tshirt with Seinfeld on it. He looks like Seinfeld so I thought he was the biggest dork ever. I was right, he was, but we became friends. And we are weird mother fuckers. 

Most people wouldn't ever understand our friendship, many people don't. We lost our virginity to each other. Every ex-boyfriend I've ever had hates this fact. One was convinced D was in love with me, and that's the only reason we were still friends. One guy convinced himself that D was gay (most definitely not) and would randomly sputter out bits about how he'd like to take away something D loved to get back at him (this boyfriend came into my life 8 years after the second time D and I ever had sex making his comments all the more ridiculous). Another guy practically ran from the table when he found out. 

D hasn't had any of these problems with his girlfriends. They all always knew, too. Everyone knows. My moms know. Sister. Probably even my brother. Everyone in our friend group, so whenever I date a guy, he has to eventually know. And they all hate it. At least so far. I have to marry the first guy who doesn't flip out over this. Either the fact that I lost my virginity to a guy who is still my platonic best friend, or the fact that I lost my virginity to someone without a romantic relationship. That really freaks guys out. Not women. Women are fine with it, men aren't. There's a feminist statement in there somewhere. 

I have a hard time describing our friendship in a way that doesn’t make me fear judgement. We’re both very into discussing sex and sexuality, and not just in some weird crass, juvenile way (although we’ve definitely done that too). We have the frankest discussions about sex that I’ve ever had, and the sociological impacts of sex and sexuality is by far my favorite conversation. Especially when it can be done in a non-creepy way. Unfortunately someone usually gets creeped out. D and I don’t have this problem. 

This is all a very long winded way to say that I miss my best friend and I wish I could be there to celebrate his 30th birthday. Maybe I’ll be able to make it out for his 31st. Who knows. 

Fuck, that was only 498 words. Now I’ve hit 500+. Phew.

a splotch of humanoid matter

I fucking hate slow walkers, and I'm sick of all of the asterisks that I normally have to put behind that. e.g. "Except for the elderly, because y'know, they can't walk as fast." My ego doesn't allow for excuses or reason.

I always walk quickly. Even when I'm not trying to get somewhere in a timely manner I walk quickly. If I'm not in the city and in an area with a slower life pace (like islands, island time is real y'all), I walk quickly. I'm currently in a walking cast and I walk faster than half the people I encounter. I just don't get why people can't get out of my way. Feel free to have your "journey," but don't fuck with mine.

I like the fact that I hate slow walkers. I realize that this is all so very far from zen, and it feels nice. It feels real. It feels like I'm not faking some weird bullshit movement, and yes, I think being zen all the time (or trying to be) is bullshit. I'm that person who speeds out of the parking lot blasting T. Swizzle after yoga class. Sweat flying. Get out of my way, your saunter isn't cute.

I work in a northern neighborhood in Chicago near a major university. I love the neighborhood. We're right on the lake, people are generally known (there are definitely some characters), and the sidewalks are skinny like you see in the burbs. This isn't a problem unless the college kids are around. Then they walk in packs. Four across and slow. I always want to yell at them that they're being rude by not allowing others to walk past them in either direction, but that'd be pointless and the opposite of poised. And despite my passion on the subject (and general whirling dirvishness) I like to at least strive for poise and grace.

I know I should calm down, not let it bug me, but I hold tight to my walk-rage. Unfortunately I can't let it out like I did with my road rage. I'll probably explode one of these days. Literally. Just a splotch of humanoid matter on the sidewalk.

I wonder how many times I wrote "I" in this post. Fucking self-centered, man. But then again I clearly think everyone should move and adjust their lives for me.

So now that the anger/frustration/"Fuck all of you" is out of my system I'm a little calmer, and a little ashamed. Logically I should chill out for me, but even just thinking about that makes anger bubble up through my esophagus. I should explore why I feel like this. Why is it that the idea of anyone controlling me immediately kicks in the fight/flight response? And why it's always fight? I rarely act on such things. Most people don't know how angry I can be, and it's terrible for me to be this angry. I should find a therapist in the city. Or should I just acknowledge that I'm a human, and humans have feelings and that anger is one of those feelings? I just don't know and also feel like I'm contradicting myself.

I, I, I.

strands of the universe

A quickly close but newish friend and I were hanging out the other night when he asked me if I'm Christian. And I had to answer that I don't know. Because I don't, but I wish I did. Although even when I did go to church every Sunday and was the good little do-be I never called myself Christian. I was Episcopalian. Calling oneself "Christian" tends to elicit thoughts of non-denominational churches: hundreds of people lifting their hands to the sky while swaying and yelling "Praise the Lord," and preaching to random strangers about being "saved." I hate that shit. I know I'm not that.

I don't know what I am because I have a hard time dealing with the fact that I'll never know if I naturally believe in God, or if I can't shake the feeling that God exists because I was raised with God. ("raised with God" sounds like we grew up together, like you'll find photos of the two of us, age 5, arms wrapped around each other's waists with chocolate ice cream smeared on our faces. Except one of us is corporeal and the other is just a short, wispy ghost-like person with a white beard and the sun glinting off of "His" young face.) Although other people who were raised in the church don't seem to have a problem with being agnostic or atheist. Part of me wonders if I'm still being the good kid by believing in God. Even if I were actually an atheist I couldn't tell my moms. My mom is in divinity school and very into it, while her wife is an actual working priest. I mentioned thinking about converting to Judaism once and my mom quickly dismissed it by saying, "Why would you move backwards?" Which is insulting on so many levels.

I didn't really think about church that much until I moved to Chicago a year ago. There's something nostalgic about working at a Catholic school. It smells like home to me. The words are the same, people are mostly similar. They sound like the adults I grew up around, except now I'm one of the adults. It's fucking weird to be one of the adults.

We're redesigning the schools' website right now and I'm in charge of writing the Faith section from scratch. For whatever reason there was very little about this on the site before, and I then learned that most schools don't put up a faith section. They're all very excited to call themselves Catholic, Christian, Jewish, (insert other major religions here that tend to have schools), but no one wants to specify what that means. When I first started I was a bit scared because I thought it'd be too conservative for me, when in reality it's moderate and erring on the liberal side. I think it's good that people know this.

I sat down with all of the religion teachers and talked for two hours to try and get an idea of what I need to write, how they describe it. I left feeling fulfilled and thoughtful, but also confused and frustrated. I don't know how I'm going to frame all of that (and we barely scratched the surface) in a way that outsiders will understand. I guess that's how faith/spirituality/religion work.

I'm not sure what to make of the universe, but I still like it. I think it'd all be much easier if everyone acknowledged that we're all interconnected. I think that's what God really is, these little gold strands of the universe that connect us to one other.

Oh, and I have no clue if my friend is Christian, but I suspect not.

chuck norris asked me to go sailing

Chuck Norris looked me in the eyes last night and requested I come back to race with him and his crew tonight. He came over to me later in the evening and asked what I'm doing on Saturday, and would I maybe like to come to crew practice?

Even though this was not an evening with martial arts maverick Chuck Norris (umm, hello, if it was this would be a post about puppies and rainbows. No one writes about CN without direct written permission lest they want a roundhouse kick to the face.) it was still a pretty badass moment.

Sailing class has been kind of a pain in the ass for a couple of reasons: 1) I miss sailing/racing with my friends and the guys who taught me. Mostly because they already know what I know and expect a certain level of performance from me. I find people telling me things I already know - whether or not they know I know - to be very condescending. It results in me telling my ego to shut it all the time and then I get distracted and miss important things. 2) I have a broken foot. Specifically, I have two stress fractures (4th metatarsal & cuneiform) and a chipped bone (lateral malleolus). I've been taping it up for sailing, but for better or worse people treat me with kid gloves when they realize I'm the girl with the broken foot.

Chuck Norris didn't treat me with kid gloves last night. He saw what I could do (with a jerry-rigged foot) and asked me to come back immediately. Broken bones and all. It felt very cool and I can't wait to get back out there tonight.

I sometimes feel bad for people who have famous names, but aren't the famous (or infamous) person. Like Chuck Norris. Or the boat captain I once sailed with named Kirk. My aunt is Martha Stewart. I feel for anyone with my name because I'm most definitely going to be famous! Just kidding. Maybe. I think it'd be interesting to see how I'd change if I became famous. Everyone who says they didn't change after fame is either lying, not into self-reflection, or a child actor.

While we were out on Lake Michigan last night it started pouring buckets and the breeze was blowing 40+ knots, and it was pure heaven. I love sailing in light storms like that. Ones that come and go, leaving chunks of rainbows over the lake and through the skyline. It makes me feel whole again.

Sometimes I worry I intimidate people with my intensity. I'm either on or off, there's really no in between. (I can be polite and kinda listen to someone if they're talking about something I'm not interested in, but it takes everything to try to pay attention and not walk away. I get really frustrated when people change the subject while I'm talking because I worked to listen to them, why can't they extend me the same favor?) I'm especially intense about sailing, some people get freaked out, others really love it. I like those people.

Day late & a dollar short

Everyone else is on their sixth day? Maybe seventh. I'm not certain.

I saw Kirk post about this experiment (500 words/day/30 days) about a week or two ago, thought it sounded awesome, but scary so I didn't start. Then I was drunk in the back of an uber and wanted to write a story about a box in the middle of the road. I posted on one of Kirk's posts, he said yes, and sober-me regretted my 2 am request six and a half hours later.

I think drunk-me was smart to ask, it's a great experiment and I need to do something scary.

I'm not quite sure what to write, but I shouldn't be writing this right now. I should be working. Or more specifically asking a 4th grade boy to describe his school year for the end of year video.

I've already gotten distracted from this distraction. First coworkers, then phone (a book on my phone though, that's better, right?) then gmail. I can't even focus on my distraction. I'm not sure how to get my brain to chill out. I go from scattered, to overwhelmed because of everything being so messy in my brain, to blank, to scattered and through the whole mess again until I have a headache.

Imagine a kindergartener got his grubby little hands (their hands are always grubby) on his older sibling's pristine Gak and took it to the playground, then hopped into the sandbox. Little pieces of slime trickled along his path and what's left of the original container is covered in sand, twigs and leaves. Oh, and he ate a bit. That Gak is my brain.

I wonder if they still make Gak.

It's a miracle I ever accomplish anything. Time for a dance break.

Jesus this is all over the place, and I guess that's staying on subject in a certain way.

Aren't all experiments a challenge in some way? Current experiment: How long can I go before getting another Dove caramel-filled chocolate from my coworker's desk? This is a two part challenge: 1) the battle of my own will. 2) the battle against social norms and how many chocolate bits are socially acceptable for me to eat. I've had two already today.

My diet is probably a big part of my mental problem. I drink coffee and eat candy like it's going out of style. And don't even get me started on my sailor imbibing. I go through waves of drinking a lot and not drinking at all, and the season is starting up (both wedding and Great Lakes sailing). I should probably keep an eye on it, but I'm really sick of needing to keep an eye on anything. I'm in the mood to just be, exist, not think of anything that I don't naturally think up. I want to eat chocolates, and take a nap, and go sailing, and not worry about whether or not what I say is kind or PC or anything. But I can't. And I know that's right, but I don't wanna.