Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

I'm sure I've mentioned before that I am seriously seasonally affected; after all, it's a big reason I moved to LA. Well, it was especially clear to me tonight, when I left work in the pitch dark, and, after a day of feeling fairly energetic, I suddenly felt so tired, I questioned whether I was going to make it all the way home.

It didn't help that traffic has been HORRENDOUS lately - in fact, it has been so bad the last few weeks, I feel fairly confident in telling you that the recession has to be over - these people must be going somewhere. The commute took so long tonight, I didn't make my yoga class, and instead just went food shopping and headed home. Within ten minutes of walking in the door and turning on all the lights, I felt fine. Better than fine, actually - energetic and productive and like a normal person. As much as I enjoy waking up to actual sunlight, I'm already more than over daylight savings time.

The extra hour to sleep in on Sunday was nice, though. I needed it. For the first time since I've lived in LA, I had a pretty major Halloween. Having it on a Saturday night, helped. And I was excited to get one more use out of my 1992 prom dress!

I don't know why, but I seem to have a long-standing aversion to store-bought costumes. Despite the fact that they usually look better than anything I can craft on my own, I have a stubborn habit of always wanting to create something original from my closet. One year, I wore all black and painted my face and body silver. Another time, I decided to be a superhero, but couldn't decide what emblem should go on my chest. I went to the fabric store, traced a purple a purple sequined question mark, and attempted to sew it onto my shirt. However I must have been looking in the mirror while doing so, because Crafty McCrafterson sewed it on backwards. Rather than look mysterious and powerful, I just looked like a dyslexic joker. Go Super Grammar Girl, GO!

And then, for three years in a row in New York, I wore all black with a pink wig. I wonder where this year's costume ideas came from... Photo gallery is here.

I know I haven't been writing as much. I blame that on my DVR. One of my arguments for holding out as long as I did was that I don't need to watch more TV. "But you'll watch good TV!" everyone says. Yes, I do watch good TV, if you count watching Mad Men three times in a row and four episodes of Beverly Hills 90210 back-to-back, but I really didn't need the option to do so. Don't get me wrong - I'm head-over-heels in love with the device, but other, more mind-stretching activities are suffering.

Which is why I'm considering taking another course at UCLA this winter. There aren't any writing courses I'm interested in - at least not until I can get an actual writing project off the ground - so I'm thinking more broadly. I'm actually thinking of revisiting two courses I took as an undergrad: Art History in the Renaissance Era, and Introduction to Wine. (Yes, I took Beer and Wine Tasting, for credit, as a first-semester senior. My life was so good.) I loved both classes, went to every single one. I also forget most of what I learned. Both are around the same price and meet the same number of times per week. I figure either way, I'm becoming more cultured, and building quite the case for a return trip overseas.

Attention-starved

My quest for personal branding power has no end. This time, I am quoted in Fitness magazine offering advice on how to manage your weight during the holiday season.

The topic, specifically, was how to keep from overeating in the office, which is something I felt fairly qualified to discuss. My personal office looks out on the communal candy counter, so every time we get a gift basket, or someone brings in homemade/back-from-vacation/leftover-from-the weekend treats, I have a bird's eye view of the the longing, grazing, and the eventual giving in to the confectionery calories. And let me tell you, after four and a half years (more when you consider my decade-plus of office work history) of watching good food go bad and the same old scenes of coworkers struggling for self control, very few things actually tempt me.

Since we're now officially into the holiday eating season (it's November already!) I'll share the unedited list of tips I sent in to the editor. May it keep us all from gaining weight or losing our self-respect.

- I don't eat anything that's not "special" - i.e. read and green M&M's, drugstore candy, etc. - who cares? If there are amazing cookies or something, I will allow myself, but even those get old by the second week in December, so then they're out.
- Work-wise, I won't allow myself any treats before lunch. I firmly believe that sugar kicks off a vicious cycle in that where, if I don't have it, I don't crave it, but once I do, I want more. I figure if I have to have something, at least wait until after lunch when it is more socially acceptable, or better, yet, around 3 or 4 o'clock when my body is more likely to naturally crave sugar, and the, at least, I can minimize the cycle. I also always try to throw half of whatever it is away before I even eat it.
- I don’t eat anything “passed” at parties, because I know once I have one, I won’t stop. Better to make a rule not to eat anything. Also, eating passed hors de oeuvres while you are speaking to someone is messy and rude, so I just picture myself stuffing food in my face in public, and the temptation usually passes. I also picture all the hands that have brushed the food on the platter, and get grossed out. That’s also good for the buffet.
- When I am sitting down and getting full, I’ll pour salt, pepper, or otherwise ruin what’s left of my food so I won’t eat it. (this works year-round).

I could have danced all night

I've decided that, as long as I'm going to be single, I'd much prefer to be a gay man. Is that a problem?

I went out last night to a club in West Hollywood filled with the best looking grown men I've seen in a long time. Unlike clubs that cater to a straight crowd, this one was filled with actual adults - 20-somethings, sure, but also plenty of 30- and maybe even 40-somethings. I can't remember the last time I went out and didn't feel like the oldest person there. Not only were the men good looking, they were well-dressed with fantastic bodies and high-wattage smiles. I've always said that I don't want to date a man who's prettier or better dressed than me, but, hell, it would be nice to have the option. Just the sheer fact that so many single men were in the same room made me miss the days when I was aware that some existed.

Guest post: Like daughter, like mother

Just about a year to the day since the last one, I present another guest post from Mom MacBlogger:

This is my second invitation to write on Lori's blog and of course I jumped at the opportunity. For the last few months I've been in a RUC (Really Un-Challenged) state of mind. So Lori and I have been tossing up some ideas to get me on track. We both like to write so my first thought was to kidnap the kid and take off to a remote Caribbean Island. We could live together, bond and write a book about mother/daughter respect, growth and the impending effects of spending my life savings together in a third world country. She tabled the idea for when she's in a RUC.

Small re-cap here. I'm Lori's mother. I just celebrated my 59th birthday, am bitter when it comes to internet dating, and have years of wisdom and opinions to share with others. About 5 years ago I left the advertising world and have since been looking for a replacement for my creative energy. I tried fitness training, which I loved, but for once the years of wisdom weren't an asset. They were a pain in my shins and rotator cuff. So I began a love affair with my kitchen, cookbooks and any nearby supermarket (that's my idea of a passionate 3-way). And as a result of this passion, I became a finalist in a Cooking Light recipe cookoff and have had recipes featured in other magazines and festivals as well.

Back to the RUC- so while I'm still talking to Lori about the Caribbean escape route, she's going off in a totally different direction. She says, "Mom, I think you should start a blog. A cooking blog." Not that conversation again, I'm thinking. I am a confirmed blog reader and could no way imagine being a blog writer, so the idea got put on the back burner. But that burner wouldn't shut off. And I found myself thinking of blog names, recipes I'd post, and first and foremost, what a fabulous way to reverse my Really-Un-Challenged state of mind.

And so the concept was born. Thank you Lori. The blog has been registered as RECIPES RE-MIXED and my first post can be viewed at recipesre-mixed.blogspot.com. For those who like to be in the kitchen, you might like my recipes, ideas, and wacky sense of humor. For those who are just learning, maybe I can teach you something. And on the actual blogging mess I've gotten myself into, I'll be looking for pointers from all of you on Lori's blogroll. Any help would be much appreciated.

Tool

Okay, readers! Here's a chance to get creative. Following, please see an actual email from a 39 year old man on Match.com. In his favor, at least he can spell. Please comment with your suggested reply to this email, and the winner/most creative will get a virtual hug from me. And possibly another blog post out of this if I choose to send it. Act fast, though. My Match subscription runs out on Friday, so I'll be canceling by bedtime on Thursday night.

Kisses!

Subject line: Do Yourself a Favor and RESPOND (Caps, his)

Hey there,
I'm 4' 1" tall and 73 pounds overweight. I've got super long hair - like past my shoulders - and tattoos all over my body. I'm 68 years old and just got my 7th body piercing this past weekend. Sound good so far?

Just kidding!

Saw your profile and I think you deserve a chance to get to know me. I'd be we could get along well. So when you get a chance, check out my profile. If you are interested (which I know you will be) drop me a line.

If you sound as interesting as your profile says, I might write you back. ;)

Until then,
Scott

UPDATE, 5 minutes later:

So, umm, either this guy reads my blog, has ESP, or just had a very sudden case of email remorse, because I just got a follow-up email in my Inbox:

RE: Do Yourself a Favor and RESPOND

Hey there -
I was just kidding with the previous email :)

I'm sure you have to surf through hundreds of Match emails a week, so I thought I'd say something that would attract your attention and ruffle your feathers a bit. So, did it work?

Now that I have your attention, hang in there just a little bit longer...

Actually, I'm totally the opposite of the impression you probably got from my previous email. Do you think anyone that was truly that arrogant would still have a lot of friends? You'll see that I'm actually very easy going and fun - and I'll treat you with respect - just like all the other people with which I spend my time.

Hey, how about giving this interaction thing a chance? You'll quickly find we get along quite well, and you'd be surprised at the real me - if you take the time to get to know me better.

You willing to hang in there a little longer to see where this goes? Please let me know either way.

Looking forward to getting to know you better.
Scott

So, now, obviously, he sounds a little more normal, but as a marketing professional, I feel like I should write back to him and remind him of that old Secret deodorant commercial - "you never get a second chance to make a first impression." Sorry, Charlie. Uh, Scotty.

Suggested replies, of course, are still welcome.

A modern girl's guide to TV Land

Please congratulate me on finally joining the 21st century, as Saturday morning, I upgraded my cable system to include DVR. I know! It's like I plunged head-first into 2005! AND, because I didn't want my in-home entertainment options to end there - or, actually, it was because my neighborhood Hollywood Video store suddenly shut down last week - I also splurged another $5 a month and signed up for Netflix. Crazy, I know. Next thing you know, I'll be starting one of those web-bloggy-things all those hipster kids have. Oh, wait...

I'm writing this four minutes before Mad Men is supposed to start, and I'm resisting every natural instinct I have to sit down and watch it in real time; I've double- and triple-checked, and I am trusting in the fact that it's going to be recorded. Even though - defying all logic - my television set IS TURNED OFF. It's high anxiety time over here, but I guess it's just one of those rites of passage every technology pioneer has to go through. (Can you tell I was never one to use a VCR for anything besides renting videos?)

A nice side effect of getting DVR was the four-hour window in which I was instructed to wait for the cable company. I woke up at 7:30 on Saturday morning, in order to get dressed, get coffee, and make it back to my apartment by 8:00 AM. I spent the first 30 minutes or so drinking my coffee, and then the next three hours, fueled by caffeine and the fact that I could not leave the house, cleaning my apartment. And by cleaning my apartment, I don't mean picking up the clothes that are strewn all over my ironing board and various corners of my bedroom - no, those, sadly, are still there. Instead, I finally decided to tackle the carpet that's been bugging me for the last few years or so, as stains have seemed to multiply without reason.

I poured a solution of white vinegar and water, and, with rag-to-rug, seriously scrubbed every single stain I could see. (Note to self: next time, vacuum first.) I have more work to do in my bedroom, but the living room and dining room carpets are as clean as I've ever seen them. I also did laundry and picked up the rest of the apartment, but the clean carpet was what made my weekend. You know, besides commercial-free, favorite-shows-at-my-leisure TV.

In addition to getting the DVR, I also switched out my HBO for Showtime. This is the second year in a row I've canceled HBO after Entourage ended, but this year I figured I would try something new. Most of the Showtime shows seem to be critically acclaimed and water cooler-worthy, but since I'm coming in halfway through the season on Dexter and Californication, I'm a little shy about starting. It's like I need to catch the first episode of something in order to appreciate it, even though there are obviously a ton of series I never started watching like that and enjoyed just the same. Mad Men is one. How I Met Your Mother is another. I just started watching that last year, and loved it so much, I went out and rented prior seasons on DVD. And speaking of TV (which I feel like I may be doing a lot, from now on), I have to talk about another show I've found myself inexplicably in love with: Roseanne.

I watched Roseanne back when I was in high school, but I never really liked it. The kids were just about my age - Becky a year older than me, Darlene a year younger - and I usually always related to the "kid" characters back then. Their storylines typically mirrored my lifestyle: worries about boys, puberty, popularity. The Connor family, though, was different. I didn't aspire to be either one of the girls, and while they had some funny lines, I remember thinking the whole show was just so over-the-top in its humor - I mean, no one really talked like that - that I couldn't relate. While now, I understand that Roseanne's breed of humor was fairly groundbreaking, at the time, the whole show and it's loud, crass, insult-flinging, poor-white-trash-attitude rubbed me the wrong way.

So when I started catching reruns on TV Land, I was amazed at how laugh-out-loud funny the show seemed to be. Rather than relate to the kids, I found myself naturally identifying with Roseanne; while her life most definitely was not aspirational, and the outlandish writing was still there, it didn't strike me as fake this time, but rather the opposite - raw and real. It's probably no coincidence that I got hooked last winter, at the bottom of a bad economy; while my lifestyle, thankfully, isn't as dire as theirs, I can, for the first time, understand it. And I don't know. I think a lot of the jokes and storylines went over my head, the first time around. The gay characters, the empty nest, the general working-class hardships... I think, as a kid, I was disappointed that this wasn't a classic sitcom, but as an adult, I'm in love with it for being so different.

In which my life becomes an episode of Seinfeld

Here's another minor dating dilemma that probably won't garner me any sympathy, but I could use some commiserating nonetheless.

I was supposed to have a date tonight with yet another Match suitor. I was initially very attracted to his online profile, we seemed to have a lot in common, and we exchanged a few emails that confirmed as such. Then he called me. And left a voice mail. And my ears started bleeding from within.

His voice was a sing-songy, high-pitched nasal whine that didn't match the rugged exterior he put forth in his online photos. I called him back, cringing as he answered the phone, as I knew immediately that I might not get past this. Then we started talking and I did actually forget about the voice, until he started telling this horrible story that went nowhere, and perhaps, because he realized as such, filled the void with the only thing worse than an annoying voice - an annoying laugh. At himself. He also told another story that annoyed me, for reasons not even worth going into here.

I tried to get off the phone. That's when he asked me out, and - because I was put on the spot - I agreed to drinks this Friday. I figured I would pick someplace loud and someplace dark and hope that he was better looking than sounding.

Thursday morning he called to tell me that he forgot he had something tonight, could we reschedule for sometime this weekend. I texted him back and Sunday would work. And then, after he called me yet again to figure out plans, I let it go to voice mail and deleted it half way through. I really, really, really don't want to go out with him.

I texted him and lied and said that now I suddenly remembered I had something on Sunday. Could we talk next week and make a new plan. He wrote back and said sure. I know this sounds hopelessly shallow, but the thought of listening to that voice and that laugh and having to keep my eardrums from dripping out of my head in person was enough to make me dread my weekend. I already know I can't really do anything next week, so I feel like I should have just let him know I'm not interested, but how do I say that now? When we haven't even gone out? What could have possibly changed between the first conversation and now? Nothing, except everything.

I don't know. Maybe if I had met him naturally, like in person, I wouldn't have even noticed his voice. But now, I can't get past it. I'm hoping he won't call me next week, will leave it in my hands to make the next move. Which, I think, will be deleting my Match profile and focusing on work for the rest of the winter.

And this, my friends, is why I'm single.