Big Sigh in the Sky

As I was getting ready for bed tonight, I couldn't help but feel as if my entire body was engaged in this big, long sigh. Its inspiration was that I just wished for once my love life could be simple and easy. It was a sigh . . . not of remorse, perhaps of wistfulness.

I realized that so often, whenever I stop engaging in the point A to point B, in the exhilaration and stimulation of getting things done, that I often cannot help but sigh. It's like I have taken a step back, gained some perspective on the situation and cannot help but sigh. In fact, my sister and I have bonded in the fact that we both very often sigh. There is something about the act of sighing that is cathartic, cleansing, revelatory, releasing.

It made me wonder, though, if perhaps the afterlife will just be one big, long sigh. As our spirits leave these mortal tabernacles and we are able to take a step back and gain perspective on our earthly putterings, will we be compelled to merely sigh? Maybe even to sigh for all eternity?

And what kind of sigh? A sigh of contentment? Gratification? Chagrin? Dismay? Wistfulness? Irritation?

Man Hugs

This is a great video demo for those of you who may be confused about execution, timing, or meaning of man-hugs. It's also great for those of you who just love watching Brits.

For those who have grown up Mormon, I think man-hug training is culminated in the mission field, although some don't quite get it and go overboard, crossing the line to questionable behavior. Mormons are insanely well-versed in the man-hug, though, as Mormon men are encouraged to be ridiculously in touch with their feelings and to constantly demonstrate "Christ-like" love. Basically, Mormon men are big pansies in some ways, which really makes them the bees knees, in my opinion, and great marriage material for those straight chicas out there.

When hugging my straight male friends, I, of course use the back pat demonstrated in the video. However, I think the pat is a ridiculous superfluity when hugging my gay male friends. As we don't need to prove "we're not gay" and lack of pat does not mean we're going to get it on in the next ten minutes. However, it is deeply ingrained, so my apologies to my gay male friends if I do this without thinking.




How To Give A Great Man To Man Hug

Ego Stroke at Zara's

So I went to the mall with my step half brother, John (more on that later), and I took him to Zara's (one of the stores I like to frequent).

For those of you who don't know, Zara's is a U.S. import from Spain, kind of like H&M, but better quality and not so teenagery. I like them because their clothes are cut more fitted than most U.S. retailers.

Anyway, I found a denim jacket I really liked (the perfect denim jacket is on my list of things-to-be-on-the-look-out-for). It was a medium. Tried it on. The arms were so freakin' tight! I was like, 'Two more weeks at the gym, and I won't be able to fit into this thing!'

Loved it! The torso was kind of loose, so if it weren't for the arms, I totally should have gone for a small. I mean, everywhere I go, I have to hunt for a small, or the uber-elusive x-small.

Aww yeah!!! Felt so freakin' good. Why can't this happen to me at regular stores?

Unlock My Heart

I had been living in my new apartment two weeks, when I lost one of the my keys. It was own damned fault, I never put them on a key ring.

So right before the gym, I went to have a new set made, and I was determined to now put them on a keychain with some sort of attachment so I couldn't lose them. As with most things, I experienced a degree of internal consternation, as whatever "toy" you put on the end of your key ring is a reflection of who you are, it speaks for you and says volumes about the kind of person you are. (what also says volumes about who you are: as I write this I am eating peanut butter and strawberry preserves alternately, straight out of the jar.

So I have no idea what I would want on the end of my keyring. At a loss for an immediate inspiration, I decide I will find something wonderfully kitschy and San Franisco touristy because a) these are easy to find in San Francisco, b) it reflects that I have a sense of humor, and c)it's a great stop-gap solution until I find something truly astounding and profound, like, I don't know, Dick Cheney's treatise on gun safety miniaturized and bronzed.

So after my little run-in with my former student, I got off the subway downtown, and I figured I would just find something then and there. I refused to put off another important thing. I was hoping I would ascend from the Hadesian confines of the the MUNI, the clouds would part, a ray of light would shine through towering office buildings, and I would find some fated sidewalk vendor hawking tourist novelties that are just ghastly enough in their cheese factor as to warrant an instant grin.

No such vendor coalesced. Downtown, was, in fact very vendor free :(.

Undeterred, I walked into the Walgreens. Something would have to do. In fact, there is an entire little section of tourist wares by the entry.

This is where I get nutty. I spent about 20 minutes deliberating over the perfect fucking key chain "toy". What the hell are they called anyway? I was very tempted to get a little Fisherman's Wharf copper crab, but then it made me think of the STD crabs, and then what if it wasn't "out there" enough and people just thought i was oddly sentimental about crustaceans. I was also tempted by the miniature snow globes that cascaded gold glitter onto the city of San Francisco, but while its kitsch was perfect, it's odd shape was ungainly for pocket storage. The last thing I need in San Francisco is some odd shaped bulge in my pants. I could go through all of them, but suffice it to say, I finally settled on some long, narrow plastic Chinatown attachment, by which I was completely uncharmed and was already planning to throw away once I found a suitable replacement.

As I proceeded to the cold drinks section to purchase a pre-workout protein-laden beverage, I spotted a non-tourist keychain attachment: a small LED flashlight. The blue one caught my eye; it had a really cool ice-blue light, but upon reflection, I realized the blue was not a very strong light. After trying out every color they had in this bin of 99 cent keychain toys, I finally settled on an all black flashlight with a white light. A part of me regretted this choice because black was so boring, but it is a very versatile color, and I figured white would be most practical if ever actual wanted to use a miniature LED flashlight.

Disappointed by my own pragmatism, I spotted fun farm animals with LED eyes!!!!! I was on the brink of purchasing a Holstein heifer, when my pragmatism jumped in and said that while I wanted to be humorous, I didn't want people in business sectors to look at my cow and think I was completely unserious (You know, cause everyone in my Fortune 500 firm might start talking). I set the cow down, and walked to the register to purchase my flashlight, detestable piece of Chinatown plastic, and Muscle Milk, hoping I would soon find something more "John Q" in the Haight.

Why good heavens am I sharing this pointless story??? Because this is exactly what it's like for John in his head when he is shopping! For anything: cake for a party, socks, a new desk lamp. So now that I have incriminatingly bared my warped inner-workings, you will know that when I say I am crazy, it does not just apply to my mild bipolar, I am indeed crazy neurotic. I think this is why I like hanging out with neurotic Easterners. At times, they make me seem downright chill.

Oh and by the way, I have now inexplicably tangled my keys on my two key rings. At first, I thought i would be brilliant to have the two indistinguishable keys on separate rings; now, i have created my own fun Chinese puzzle. And I still often forget which key is on the Chinatown ring and which one is on the LED ring. I am so freakin' brilliant!

I ran into one of my students!!!

Okay so I have a few blog updates, but they are going to have to come out in pieces.

This is the first.

On Sat. I was heading to the gym, and while I was waiting for the subway heading downtown, I saw some shaggy haired kid with a skateboard. My first thought was he reminded me of my own shaggy haired days.

And then I realized: he was one of my former students!! For those of you who don't know, while I was in SF before, I taught English and Reading Skills at an afterschool program for inner city kids. Kind of like a hybrid of conventional tutoring and separate curriculum focus.

Anyway, so this kid (can't tell you his name), was one of my favorite students! He was so smart! And he actually got my lame ass dry jokes! I just saw a lot of potential in him.

He was also PAINFULLY shy. More than anything, I just tried to get him to relax! And to maybe see his youth as a time to have fun and socialize a bit.

So I see him, but I dont know, I am suddenly not sure if he recognizes me, and I smile and say, "Hi." And he says, "Hi" back. The weird thing is I am still not sure if he remembers me as one of his teachers or if he just thinks I am some crazy dude in the city who likes to hit on teenage boys. BAH!

But we talk for a bit. And its just like weird. He's 17!!!!!!! 17. So crazy. It's like I was his age when I started BYU. And I don't know, I just felt so weird, trying to reconnect with this teenager, and really feeling at such a loss. It just made me feel . . . very un-teenager.

I know what you might be thinking . . .Uh, John you're in you mid 20's, you ARE very unteenager, but in a lot of ways, inside I feel like it wasnt that long ago that I left high school and my teenage years. In fact, eight years have now passed! Holy @#$%!

Anyway, it was good to see this student of mine. He seemed to be doing well in the couple of minutes I talked to him. But I definitely walked away (on my creaky knees) feeling a little . . . out of sorts. I have kind of felt that way lately. Like while I am becoming more in tune with who I am, I am also in a place of redefinition. I AM getting older. My relationship with my parents has really been changing . . . ever since I turned 25, I look at myself differently, with a different sort of accountability.

I think i have said this before, but I look forward to settling into the next few years. After the turbulence of the last couple of years, it will be nice to find myself in something of a routine.

Anyway, long story short: blast from the past, John realizes his artificial hip, makes him un-hip to the underage.

Hillary Clinton

I just listened to a speech by Clinton in West Virginia, and marveled at how she has adopted the subtlest of Southern accents for her audience.

While I do not support Hillary for president, I have to give her mad props for the way she has changed herself at need for this campaign. I mean, this is a woman who has been characterized as a rather cold shrew. She started out in the race with some rather bad advice on how to run her campaign and what to expect from her opponent, but in a matter of a few short months she has had to grow a sense of humor (pretty successfully, although it was stiff at first), show emotion and vulnerability, be affable and relatable. I have heard her throwing back Jack Daniels in a bar and listening with genuine sympathy to small-town folk. Her campaign has become one of very personal, intimate connection with simple people.

If you would have told me that this is how Hillary Clinton would be as a candidate one year ago, I would have looked at you with blatant incredulity.

If nothing else, Clinton has proven herself a politician capable of great flexibility and adaptability; a politician of unexpected strengths.

That being said, I still favor Obama, despite a few question marks I still have about him. I wish the media would do more than paint him in broad brushstrokes. Perhaps we will see more explorative coverage in the general election.

On a side note, today, McCain talking about finding alternative fuel sources eerily reminded me of a General Authority. Dun Dun DUN!!!

Dun Dun DUUUUUUUN!

So the wonderful David in L.A. directed me to this hilarious clip. Its five seconds, but packed with more shocking action than you can possibly imagine!

Think of this as my reaction to whatever your latest jaw-dropping news might be.

Boyfriend broke up with you? Think of the chipmunk. Ben and Jerry's Wavy Gravy on sale for half-price? Think of the chipmunk. The Bush administration reveals yet another governmental violation of ethics and civil liberties . . . think of the chipmunk.

To blog . . .

. . . well it has been far too long, but so much has been happening! So much I would want to share with you, my gentle readers, but the magnitude of what I could write about has been daunting: moving to San Francisco, submitting my portfolio to the advertising dept. , saying good bye to old loves, new loves, meeting new people, my killer new digs, my adventurous trek across the lovely state of Nevada (and odiferous plains of Central Cali), the anxiety of finals, the resentment I am starting to develop for the chore of required painting. But none of this will I scratch the surface of tonight, my friends.

I actually thought I might come up with something genius, as I felt a wave of green-tea inspired energy wash through me, but that list just made me tired, and I just want to floss and go to bed with Edith Piaf (I am finally biting the bullet and watching the depressing La Vie en Rose (Nathalie, we were supposed to watch this!).

I am allowing myself this indulgence because my brain is just too tired to contribute anything meaningful to the mountain of school work I have right now. That is what I have look forward to this weekend: not some hot date, or a night out at the clubs, or even a fun evening in a bookstore (wow, that would be perfect: a new book, incense and a chai tea latte), but a mountain of school work, almost all of which I deeply resent and yet requires me to feign creative passion and commitment.

The one highlight will be trying out the gym at Potrero (the one that is a 12 min walk from my house is way too small for that many machine hogging men). I hope the walk to Potrero is as picturesque as the one to Church St. Hmm. Maybe if I am VERY good, I will trade in Edith for something new at the Blockbuster. A DVD of the L Word?? Or maybe an intro to Entourage? I am open to suggestions. I think I will have my in store trade-ins be TV shows and the mail in stuff be movies.

Anyway, I will leave you guys with this one testament as to why I cannot do any more online classes/work from home: today, in the middle of the day, I found myself on all fours having a conversation of meows and purrs with our house cat, Benini. Yes, I have become that nuts.