random musings on age 27

I remember one day I was waiting for the bus in 6th grade. It was so fucking cold.
My fingers were numb and I was shivering. I was miserable. I had about 10 minutes before the bus was due to arrive.

I thought of all the warm places I would prefer to be. My electric blanket. My mother's car with the heat on high. I remembered Jamaica. I thought of the sun, a gentle warmth kissing my skin. The pleasant burn of the sand as I ran to the water. Snorkeling in aquamarine water. I told myself over and over, "You are not cold. You are not cold." I climbed inside my memory of that vacation and for a few minutes I was actually warm.

That was power.

Years ago Tag Heuer had an ad campaign, "Success is a Mind Game." There was a man swimming in a pool with sharks at his heels.

Getting through is always a mind game.
Being able to contol my thoughts carried me through the marathon.
26.2 miles is a bitch.

She is so determined. She is so stubborn.
Same trait. Different result.

I have a certain hardheadedness and energy for the long haul.
Blessing/Curse
It got me through WashU; It kept me with my ex.

My ex.

What the fuck? I never ever ever want to go through anything like that again.
I really let myself down on that one.

A fuschia flower crushed under the heel of a black boot.

I left behind the ex. It's all the fucked up things that he did and said that echo in my mind like a dvd skipping.

Enough.

I love my job. I've been questioning whether I should be in finance since my last gig. My background is in Psychology.
So, what the hell am I doing? My natural talent is not math. But I'm dangerous with my hp12c.

I now work with international clients, I have a few domestic. I love it. I'm growing and learning which makes up for the pittance I earn. I'm grateful though.

Thinking about going back to school for my MBA, taking level I of the CFA next December. Moving to NYC or London.

Almost did my first triathlon. That's been pushed into 2006 due to an injury. Another marathon? Maybe.

I'm definitely getting some flight time in '06 - my Log Book is too dusty.

No Drilling in ANWR for Now

Senator Ted Stevens R-Washington attached the ANWR drilling initiative to a defense spending bill. He didn't think fellow Senators would risk voting against funds for troops and Katrina victims to save the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Senator Maria Cantwell D-Washington was correct in referring to his strategy as "legislative blackmail." Stevens has aggressively supported ANWR drilling for 25 of his 37 years in the Senate. Today he was denied a victory. No doubt, he will persevere.

Damon Breaks My Heart.

Boo!

Damon is leaving Boston for the Big Apple.

Johnny, how could you do it? The Evil Empire?
$52M? They're renting you cheap.

Err.. I hate the Yankees. Steinbrenner will be his Delilah.

Would this have happened if Epstein were still in the front office?

Chalk's Crash in Miami, All 20 Dead

The first time I ever went up in a seaplane was at Chalk's. My mother, obsessed with seaplanes, took me and my sister. It was an incredible experience.

Chalk's has a fascinating history but more impressive is their safety record. Chalk's has never had passenger fatalities since it opened in 1919. Prior to this afternoon, there had only been one crash during it's history, in 1994. Only the two pilots were aboard and both were killed. Once, in 1974, a plane was hijacked and taken to Cuba, since then the planes never carry enough fuel to make it there.

Witnesses agree that there was an explosion and then two pieces tumbled from the sky into the water. Some say it appears there was an explosion that separated the wing from the rest of the aircraft. This occurred shortly after takeoff from Miami headed to Bimini in the Bahamas. Granted, takeoff and landing are the most dangerous parts of air travel but wings don't spontaneously combust and separate from a plane. As Chalk's is a small, closely held company, that services mainly tourists, I wonder about their security measures. Most private airports and aviation companies operate under minimal security.

There were 20 people aboard, 2 pilots and eighteen passengers. Of the eighteen, three were infants. All bodies have been retrieved from the water except for one.

The plane that went down was an enhanced Grumman G-37 Mallard built in 1947. Only 59 were built between 1946-1951. Chalks had their ships converted from piston-engine to turbo-prop, avionics upgraded and main cabin seating increased to 17. Fuel can be carried in the wingtip tanks.

A team of aircraft safety investigators from the National Transportation Safety Board have already begun their inquiry. A salvage team will begin to raise the secured plane from the water tomorrow morning. They will review operating and maintenance records, hopefully retrieve the cockpit voice recorder and send it to Washington for processing. Soon we should know more.

Although the FBI has already stated that there is no evidence of foul play.

Clinton Denounces Bush's Inertia

Much to the chagrin of the Bush administration, Bill Clinton made an impromptu speech at the UN Conference on Climate Change. Clinton denounced U.S. refusal to ratify the Kyoto Protocol and Bush's argument that reducing greenhouse emissions would imperil the U.S. economy. The U.S. wouldn't even commit to proposals espoused by Canada that promoted future talks on emissions controls. The Bush administration illustrated their commitment to climate control by promoting the $3 billion per annum set aside for R&D into energy saving technologies.

After Clinton's formal remarks he suggested that participants look to engage the U.S. through means other than specific emission control figures. This is a hollow offering, as the U.S. won't even commit to "dialogue" on climate change.

My Runner's O

Some runners describe "Runner's High" as this thing where they become one with the universe while they are running and it just carries them into infinity. Something that lasts several minutes if not tens of minutes.

I sometimes have what I lovingly refer to as, "The Runner's O."

This afternoon, I was running in my apartment building gym, a three star dungeon, on a treadmill. It was me and Jay-Z. I was 53 minutes into my run and my breathing told the whole story. I never get the O before four miles. Yes, if it were recorded, amplified exponentially and replayed for my lover he would recognize it with fond memory.

There was a bit of pain. Not PAIN, as in anyone with good sense would stop, but a benign discomfort. A dull aching in my quads and arms that was a sweet agony. A soreness and exhaustion that was both tempting and discouraging. While my body was full, my mind was insatiable. My mind was pushing my body, "Faster! Harder! More!" It hurt but I couldn't stop. An all too familiar delerium.

It started with an awareness of the skin on my arms and legs as if someone were tickling my skin giving me goosebumps. Then a warmth that came slow and then fast. A full body blush that started pink and became red. And then it was extinguished with a shiver. Just. Like. That. Not even 30 seconds.

All the while I just kept running.

Meet Simone

Simone is my nemesis. I lay on my couch in my fat girl sweats watching the tv with a plate of cookies at my side while she changes into her workout gear, grabs her helmet and heads out my front door with her bike. I lay in bed, marveling at how impossibly warm my bed feels (considering I sleep nude) while Simone is at the edge lacing up her running shoes about to hammer out ten miles in the pre dawn cold. I fumble through my papers looking for the number to pizza delivery and she expertly slices tomatoes for a salad.

I fucking hate her. There is no peace with this bitch in my life.

So, why did I invent her?

I have no idea. She made her grand entrance into my life when I was training for a triathlon this past summer. I was biking on a trail, I was exhausted, my quads were lead and I wanted to quit. The great thing about going out on a trail is that you have to work to get back. It's not like riding laps where you can just stop when you get tired and you're close to home or your car. I had seven miles in front of me whether I biked, walked or crawled. I could have taken a break - stopped at the benches, had some water. But, I didn't want to stop. All I wanted to do was go home. I thought of getting off my bike and walking. It would give my quads a break - stretch out my muscles. LOSER. Suddenly, a different voice. STOP BEING A PUSSY AND PUSH. YOU WANNA GO HOME? FUCKING EARN IT. Simone was born.

I scratched my cornea in the summer, unable to wear contacts, I couldn't swim and had to miss my triathlon. Simone took off.
I didn't know if she would come back. But, she showed up last Thursday at 4am - started talking about running. At 7am, I gave in.

Truth is, I kind of missed her.

Winnie the Pooh Gets a Girl

Winnie the Pooh gets a girlfriend in a new television series set to air in 2007. As of yet, the 6-year old girl who will be Pooh's neighbor in the Hundred Acre Wood, is unnamed and her role is still ambiguous as is Christopher Robin's.

Is the glass ceiling beginning to crack?

Stanley Williams, Executed, 12/13/05 3:35am EST

Tookie was executed this morning for the murder of four people. Discussion about the case rarely focuses on that.

It wasn't enough that he was convicted of murdering those four, it was that he aided in the creation of a gang that is responsible for thousands of deaths. It wasn't enough that he became a changed man, it was that he had been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize six times. Each side painted Tookie with broad strokes.

This case has rekindled the death penalty debate. Most cases are not this dramatic. He is painted as both the devil and a saint. How many death row inmated are responsible for creating a gang as obscenely violent and prolific as the Crips? How many death row inmates have been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize at least once let alone six times?

Assuming each side is correct: Tookie is responsible for the murders of those four people as well as the thousands others taken by members of the Crips and he is a completely reformed individual, worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize - was execution the just and appropriate response?

Seeking A Most Trusted Driver

It is said that men prefer the chase. Common advice is to let men think they are driving the relationship. This is the day and age of The Rules. I'm uninterested in the tricks and strategies of understanding and trapping men as if they were game. Basically, you pretend to be 'a good pre-feminist chick' so you can get the guy who prefers 'a good pre-feminist chick.' What happens when you want to go back to being your 'fabulous post-feminist self'? What happens when the leopard wants to show her spots?

DIVORCE. (imagine Taye Diggs saying this as he clinks his glass in Brown Sugar)

It's like buying a size 6 dress when you wear a size 12. One of three things is going to happen: A. The dress sits in the closet while you wear something that fits (A miserable marriage). B. The dress is either given away or returned (Divorce). C. You starve and exercise until you are an unhealthy and bitchy size 6 (Become his perfect wife).

No. Fucking. Way. Buy the 12 and be happy. Why waste the money and closet space? Marriage is hard enough when you get everything you want - why complicate it further with falsity? It cheats everyone including the audience which is usually your kids. I think a common problem in relationships is that people, both men and women, haven't done the work to figure out who they are and what they cannot tolerate.

That being said I know I'm type A. I'm aggressive and unabashedly so. I might be the proverbial Alpha female. Intense and expansive. If I know what I want, I'm trying to get it. If I'm having an impulse, chances are I'm going to act on it unless there is a compelling reason to do otherwise. I am convinced - most men do not like aggressive women. I'm not giving lip service to the myth - this is just my experience. Of course, most of the men I have dated vocalize a preference for independent and aggressive women who exhibit confidence and focus. Yet, a common denominator is the expectation that I will initiate all sex, dialogue and strategy within the relationship. Err.. Yes, I like initiating things but not everything all of the time. This becomes so tedious and BORING.

Just as there are women who choose to be led unthinking along a path not of their own choosing so there are men.

I don't want that man.

There is nothing sexier to me than a man who knows who he is, what he wants and is chasing it with an unprecedented fanaticism. That shit is powerful and what is sexier than power? Apparently, a woman who has relinquished it. Or a woman who never shares it.

A few months ago I read an interview in Allure with Ellen DeGeneres. She was saying that sometimes when she comes home at the end of the day she just wants to be "quiet and small" and how Portia de Rossi gets that. I love Ellen for getting that. Ellen, clearly a powerful, independent, and aggressive chick, admits that sometimes she wants to be "quiet and small." This instantly resonated in a meaningful way with me.

I'm almost 28. I've been with myself all my life. I'm an introspective chick. I know a lot of shit about myself. Including how fucking psycho I can seem at times and how eerily brilliant I can be. I've been told I'm a walking contradiction and that I have two speeds - on or off. I'm honest enough to recognize the truth in that. It's just finding someone who can deal with both the on and the off. Someone who will let me be quiet and small without requesting it and that is all the difference in the world.

I love driving. I love determining how fast I will travel, which lane I will be in and for how long. Not to say that I can't be a passenger. The secret truth is I want to be a passenger for a while. I need that "off" time. I need to be able to be "quiet and small." The thing is finding a driver whom I can trust. I need a driver with a certain level of intensity but not to the point my life is endangered. There must be good reason to trust his decision making skills as much or more than I trust my own.

Iran's President Suggests Israel Relocate to Europe

I laughed out loud and shook my head when I read this article. Iran's recently elected President, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has suggested that the Holocaust never occurred and that Europe's insistence that it has might explain their unconditional support of Israel. He then advocated Germany and Austria offer parcels of land to the Israelis, as a method of assuaging their own guilt, so the Israelis can relocate.

How outrageous. First, what would Europe gain by inventing the Holocaust? It's just as dim an argument as the U.S. imagining slavery. Neither Europe nor the U.S. stands to gain anything by creating these atrocites. The Holocaust and Slavery gave birth to movements, laws, coalitions, racism, etc.. It is evidenced in so many ways.

The world got a sense for his feelings about Israel when he called for it to be "wiped off the map" in October. There was no need for him to insult the rest of us by implying that we were engaged in this collective illusion.

A Modest Proposal for Tookie's Life

An article in the L.A. Times by Ted Hayes suggests that Schwarzenegger suspend Tookie's execution for as long as there is a cessation of gang-on-gang crime.

Hmm..

World AIDS Day, 2005

Beirut, Lebanon


Madrid Spain
Tengo SIDA. I have AIDS.


Soweto, South Africa


New Delhi, India


Washington, D.C.

World AIDS Day, 2005

Berne, Switzerland

The Swiss AIDS Foundation's demonstration, "Africa Needs Medicine Now" lit 8,000 candles in the shape of the continent in Parliament Square.



London, United Kingdom

The artwork entitled, "Rainbow of Hope" was created by South African children to illustrate their perspectives on having friends and family with HIV. The art was imported and displayed in Trafalgar Square.



Athens, Greece

Artwork by Athina Robie is displayed in a Metro Station.



Nairobi, Kenya

Volunteer speaks about HIV/AIDS at a counseling and testing center.



Amman, Jordan

Man covers his face for anonymity to protect against discrimination.



Buenos Aires, Argentina

An obelisk downtown is covered to appear as a large condom.