Cloying and cliche, here they are!

2008's been a so-so year for me. I have to admit I became complacent, stagnant, let myself--and I'm certain others with my oft-defeated attitude--down and allowed things in my life to happen that I swore I wouldn't. Despite all this, I feel energetic about a New Year and the decisions, some of them difficult, that I will have to face and make peace with.

In the hope that publishing these resolutions will yield a higher return on results, they go something like this:

1. Cook once a week
2. Blog once a week, even if it's boring. I need the mental exercise
3. Start, and finish, a book once a month. This is also in direct proportion to watching less TV for TV's sake
4. Continue my awesome past three days of exercise and hopefully gain 5 or so pounds in muscle. It's superficial but I'm tired of having a gaunt upper body, ok?
5. Take up tennis in the spring (you still with me, Jess?)
6. Decide if I'm really going to attend grad school, and how I might go about doing that
7. Take a couple-week trip to either Europe or Southeast Asia. You see, my perspective has become rather myopic
8. Regularly volunteer and donate to a pet shelter
9. Could it be possible for me to finish a screenplay rough draft? I feel the ideas coalescing over the past couple of weeks
10. Hmm just to round up, be a better inhabitant of the Earth and do my best to reduce, reuse and recycle. Oh, and get a donated piano into my house so I no longer have an excuse to resume playing
A bonus resolution would be: Practice kindness, even though it's not as fun, at least in the immediate gratification sense

I wish everyone a Happy New Year and even if you don't hold yourself to every resolution, the fact that you have the forward-thinking cognizance and intention to correct not-so-rights in your life speaks enough volume for me.

On a (much) lighter note

You know how sometimes, after repeated pleas and various manipulative tactics, people won't take down pictures of you that make you cringe every time you browse their profile? Then you just have to 'own' the snap as a sad reminder of how hideous you can look and try to move on with life?

Like this one, from Christmastime 2006 at our apartment:


Truth hurts, so you may want to sit down (well, you're at a computer, so the chances of you standing are fairly low), but I actually proceeded to go out after this picture was taken. No, like, out in public. I believe it was to a bar or club.

Other than not being my best angle (or posture), let's forego the hair, face and winter solstice tan and instead focus our critique from the neck down. I guess at some point while clothes-shopping, I decided a classic white V-neck would look good on me. Little did I know this style only looks good on guys who actually lift weights on a regular basis, and the crease in my shirt actually makes it look like I'm a 12-year-old girl with budding, sore raisins.

With that in mind, I guess it was good I cover up my gaunt frame from the harsh elements (two birds with one stone) with a jacket, but it just makes me look my dad when he was called out to fight a fire in the middle of the night and had to throw something on in a pinch. And then there's the pants. They actually have a pretty nice fit and I still wear them to this day, although you wouldn't be able to tell with how high I've hiked them up with a cinched belt, causing the upper thigh area to balloon and making me look like someone who benefits from a rewards card at Northern Reflections (ahh, bonus points to anyone who remembers that store).

Turning our attention away from the disaster on the left, my friend Amelia has that settle, forlorn expression that suggests, "Well, I guess if he feels confident, that's all that matters." And Paul's his usual giddy self. Oh, and if you're getting into details, we bought our own Nativity because I love them. And yes Amanda, that's the Buddha head I told you I would ironically use to cause blunt-force trauma on a criminal who dares trespass while I'm at home alone.

In a state

With Prop. 8 getting me down and not knowing exactly where to direct my anger, I can't help but agree that is still a bit jarring — but hopefully less and less so in the near future — to spot a wedding dinner place card that reads:


Two months ago, I took the place card home for a laugh; in hindsight it's become a little less humorous. I hate to admit there was an instinctual tinge of shame in collecting the card at a suburban Indiana wedding, though thoughtfully written by Paul's cousin-bride. Now, I feel that shame may be best reserved for others.

But committed to not being bitter, I remain optimistic and find this song by the lovely Polly Jean Harvey an (interpreted?) inspiration.

One day I know
We'll find a place of hope...

Walk tight, one line
You're wanted this time
There's no one to blame
Just hold on to me...

I walk, I wade
Through full lands and lonely
I stumble
With you I wait
To be born again
With love comes the day
Just hold on to me

Halloween office party!

A find all my own

Romeo Void is my type of an '80s band that won't be featured on any tired retrospective compilations (I should know, I own a 7-disk collection of '80s radio hits). The now-slightly absurd name might make you think they're a throwaway nostalgia trip, but I'm sure any serious music enthusiast of that day would remember them. So it's kind of like finding an obscure treasure and imagining myself a cool, slightly moody 1983 college freshman being into music I could be proud of these days.

Anyway, I looked up some of their music after I remember my oldest sister, quite some time ago, singing the hook to one of their songs, "I might like you better if we slept together" (not directed toward me, or anyone in particular as I remember it in my naive state). I previewed some songs and just ended up buying the whole best-of iTunes album, "Warm, In Your Coat." It was ultimately worth it. I haven't so much gotten into the moodier pieces, but I love the uptempo stuff and it makes for some unsuspecting great cardio music. The lead singer has an incredibly, naturally sensual voice, someone I imagined (past tense intentional) to be a big, sexy blonde like Alec Baldwin's fling in the movie "She's Having a Baby" (either you get that reference or you don't). Anyway, my research tells me they're a New Wave band for all you genre freaks, but they have a jazzy or maybe a bit of an early ska feeling due to their repeated use of undeniably blissful horn solos.


Here are my top tracks, listed in order of essentialness:
1. Myself to Myself
2. Talk Dirty To Me (the song could be like a minute shorter with all its repititions, but it's still sassy and humorous and not obscene, if that's what you're getting at)
3. Never Say Never (the one that lead me to the album. It's still great, but too long to keep my attention)
4. Just Too Easy
5. A Girl In Trouble Is a Temporary Thing (this was another one of their hits. I like its core, but it doesn't sound as timeless as the others)
6. Wrap It Up (a slight rockabilly vibe on this one)
7. Chinatown (perhaps the sister to Siouxsie's "Hong Kong Garden")

A gender bender, blended

Our friends Mark and Aaron have insisted on the nickname "Kate" due to my wispy similarities to Kate Moss. Whatever. But last week when they were visiting from California, over Paul's home-cooked dinner al fresco, I was asked if I had to be a woman, who would I be? Well, you may find this shocking, but I didn't have a ready response. So I've thought about it for the past few days, and while I can't just name one I would be thrilled to have a Freaky Friday moment with, I managed to narrow it down to four.

This could have several alternate titles, as well. Such as: If you were to go Weird Science (in this case, Fag Hag Edition), who would it be? Another: The ideal woman I'd kill to co-parent with, or at minimum borrow some eggs. Here we go:


Clockwise from top right:
Catherine Keener: Confident, good-bitchy and love the smoky voice. No dainty flower; womanly, not girly.
Penelope Cruz: Mostly physical in reference. Lovely natural body, lovely Spanish complexion, graceful and lends a touch of the exotic.
Polly Jean Harvey: The polite Brit who can unleash fury when needed, and proves you don't have to be a freak to wade in dark waters. But also explorative, unfazed and pretty in a big-featured kind of way. Any musical talent would be very welcome!
Parker Posey: Oh, the funny girl next door...if your neighborhood's the West Village. Always makes me laugh. The consummate bohemian hip nerd.

Honorable mentions, for one reason or another: Amy Sedaris, Fiona Apple, Cindy Crawford, some righteous chick from the past. Others TBA.

Waterlogging

Fortunately, all my time wasn't spent in rural Indiana (no offense to my rural Indianan readers. Holla!). On Sunday afternoon, we returned to Chicago and hit up the Polish district for some breads, pre-made pierogi, kielbasa and pastries. It almost seemed like walking down a street in Krakow, as the vast majority of store signs and market items were in Polish, with Polska women over the PA system announcing the day's specials (or maybe they were informing customers that their pochwas itched, what do I know).

Him: There were just so many sausages in that market! I don't think I could ever get to tasting all of them.

Me: *Long stare to the back seat* I doubt that.

Afterwards, we met Jen's boyfriend's family on Diversey Harbor, located just north of downtown Chicago. They keep a boat there during the summer, so each dock just turns into a seasonal neighborhood lane. Luckily, it was a warm, sunny day and Lake Michigan was as calm as Paula Abdul on Vicodin. So we went for a cruise around Navy Pier, feeling like one of the beautiful people while the landlocked commoners looked on with envy.



After idling for a few minutes, we entered the locks to the Chicago River, and cut through downtown to the sounds of Frank Sinatra. The river traffic was almost non-existent, so we felt like kings and queens of the City that Blows.

And then there was Pam. I would describe her essence as a (more) energetic SJP who could do seamless voice work for Leah Remini, and with a splash of Elaine Benes for good measure. She was a total blast; energetic, eccentric and spontaneous. It's unfortunate we only have this photo of her on the camera, but hopefully we'll get to hang out some more next visit. She pitched a show idea to me with the working title "Dock D," so I'm considering writing a pilot. But honestly, she could easily have her own reality show because she's a go, go, go kinda girl. Even watching her mix drinks was riveting. Vive la Pam!


We returned to the dock at twilight and feasted on an awesome seafood grill, which included my first cut of the elusive Chilean Sea Bass.

The next morning we shot down to H&M and down came the rain. Just as well, as we had to get to the airport. But in order to retrieve our luggage, we had to walk about eight blocks from the train station to Jen's apartment. Note: Greater Chicago neighborhoods are not cab-friendly, especially during a torrential downpour.

In closing, I would like to issue an apology to Jennifer S. for clogging the toilet before I left. I had to leave everything mid-swirl, but I swear most the brown went down. It's just that I forget that antique toilets can't hold as much TP as my recent-edition crapper. I did what I could with some paper towels, but your brother was yelling at me to get in the cab. Now, if you had come back to drive us to the airport instead of staying at the golf course during what was an obvious all-day weather pattern, this crisis could have certainly been avoided. So actually it's your fault. The saddest part is that I had to say goodbye to your mom with these rushed parting words: "Have fun this week, we'll see you in a few days. And I clogged the toilet, so don't use it until Jen gets back, ok?" *Cab door slams shut*