Go back in time and get the Lemonade!

I stopped my feet from bouncing so I could reach up into the sky and wave my fingers around vigorously, a bit like I was conducting an orchestra of hummingbirds. This and the seizure-like bobs of a 1:15 AM madman are the apparent results of an iced coffee some hours ago. It started innocently enough with an order of lemonade. Feet pound on a non-existent bass drum. Hand seizures now violently direct traffic to the right The waitress, a sensible looking woman of low to mid twenty decried her establishment's lemonade with some remark about its unappealing fountain nature.

"Too sweet?" I asked. As my arms and my brain spin in opposite directions I am unable to recall her answer. Her look spoke volumes. She I point angrily channeling Lewis Black had a disdain for the lemonade which I took seriously. Not wanting the carbonated beverages of the Coca-Cola empire, I instead decided that an iced coffee with my 9 PM dinner would be wise. AN ICED COFFEE. I get some caffeine, but in no way have a tolerance wrists like pinwheels; bouncing has made its way up my spine.

Now I pay the price. I could've had gesticulating wildlya piss-poor glass of lemonade and been out by 11:30, instead masticating the air and punctuating my point with a powerful jab downward I chose poorly. Very poorly. Sleep does not just elude my grasp. I can barely recall the nature of sleep. Instead I want to grab my banjo, which hasn't been played in some months, and pick a tune. Wait. Wait. I've got one. How about "Lemon, Lemon, pick the Lemonade, you ridiculous little man from 5 hours ago."

It's not that well known.

Like the substitute mailman,
I kind of deliver. The gym was quite a challenge today. The gym is down in the basement of my building, but I managed to make three trips before successfully entering. I don't even remember what I forgot on my first trip; I then proceeded to forget my shoes, which required a hike back up the stairs and then my ID. After that, it was smooth sailing through 30 minutes of stationary bike and two sets of something or other before the fire alarm went off. My self-preservation instinct kicks in when the fire alarm starts going. There are some that will dilly and others that will dally, but among my coworkers I tend to be one of the first people out the door. Today, I took a calculated risk, considered my future as a charcoal briquette and gathered my stuff from the locker room before darting outside. I did encounter a naked man who asked, "Should I go out like this?" I said, "yes", but didn't stick around to see whether he followed my advice. Unlike my workout, I survived intact. Like my workout, I made my way home half-dressed and sweaty.

My dentist and my mom think my smile is great
I picked my dentist for two reasons- he's close and he's open after traditional business hours. I did not pick him because of his day job- prison dentist. I am not kidding. He's a little rough, but claims to be gentle on the paying customers like me. He thinks my teeth are amazing, but I always try to remember his baseline. If that's not enough to create the curious dental experience, his receptionist seems greatly disappointed when my cleaning does not result in money-making procedures like root canals and fillings. I don't know what to say except that as odd and off-putting as this experience continues to be, it's still better than my doctor's visits where I feel like the doc just doesn't care. Go Health Care! Go US of A!

The Great Debate
I took the easy road yesterday. I turned to movie reviews and imdb. The post I really wanted to write, the post that I'm still not sure I can get out was about the debate that raged inside of me.

What could cause my insides to roil on a Sunday afternoon? I had a movie to choose. Should I see 27 dresses or Atonement? It seems that a person like me could distill such a decision down to its most attractive...er...simplest parts and make this merely a question of Heigl vs. Knightley. Alas, a decision such as this turned out to be far more complicated.

I didn't know much about either movie, but by the few things I did know it appeared that 27 dresses was the cotton candy and Atonement was the apple, likely sans caramel coating. I sensed that even though Keira would be up there in big screen glory, I might have to work at it. I might have to be sad or upset or actually care. The more I thought about this, the more I realized that all I really wanted was to be entertained with little to no effort. I sensed that Katherine could deliver. Still, I struggled with my decision. I was about to spend $10.25 on a movie that I didn't really want to care much about. What was I saying with my dollars and cents? Please, Hollywood, make cotton candy because I don't want to be bothered. I want cheap thrills and easy laughs. I don't really want to think or feel, I just want you to kill a couple of hours and tie it up with a nice lavender bow for me. If I make this decision, how many heterosexual males just like me will make the same decision? Ok, wrong question, but how many times do we choose easy over more challenging? How many times is that right? And if we keep doing it will the more challenging options disappear? Will we lose the ones that force us to examine ourselves or the world in a different way? I don't even know if Atonement manages that or if that's what it means to be art.

Sheesh. No wonder I went to see 27 dresses. By the time I was done pontificating about which movie to go to, I was too tired to think any more. Or more likely, my primary solace in my decision is that I figure eventually Keira will woo me to the theater. I'm probably going to work, just not on Sunday.

27 dresses meets or exceeds low expectations
There is something about the romantic comedy that keeps me coming back for more. I don't think I've been particularly pleased with one since Notting Hill. What was that, 1995? Imdb.com says 1999 actually, so the drought is not as long as I suspected.

There have been a few during that time that I had high hopes for- Serendipity, Music and Lyrics to name two and at least one, Once that doesn't really fall in the same genre, but was pretty special. For the most part, this genre is a parade of cliches. 27 dresses marches on to the beat of the same drummer, but Katherine Heigl is just lovely enough to make things ok.

I think the something that keeps me coming back is the happy ending. When the happy ending doesn't do it for me anymore, I think that's when it's time to start worrying.

Additionally, further research indicates that in June, The Time Traveler's Wife starring Rachel McAdams (!) will hit theaters. There will be high expectations when one of my favorite books turns into a movie starring one of my favorite actresses, but it's about time for this drought to end.

Ah! The cinema!
Every so often a movie comes along that makes me want to grab someone's hand and go running through the streets.
Spirit of the Marathon is that movie. I could sense a closeness in the crowd immediately; it was the kind of vibe that usually surfaces at highly anticipated comic book movies, the difference here was that these were my people. The crowd was full of runners. Most of them may not have had the joys of a pre-movie run like my fine friends and me, but I could sense that most had been bitten by the running bug now and again.

I don't know what this movie would be like for the non-runner, but it gave me chills. It's put together so well and it helped me recall almost all of the trials and the triumphs of my marathon experience in 2004. On top of that pleasure, it manages to illuminate some other amazing stories including the elite marathoners. It's well shot providing both footage that gives some perspective to the vastness of the experience of tens of thousands of crazy people all pushing toward a goal as well as that individualized in the training and in the race perspective of the singular struggle.

It's awesome. I'm not sure I could get much more excited about a documentary unless it was about me. Maybe not even then because that might be both awkward and egomaniacal.

Taste memory
Before I get started I would just like to thank those in charge for having winter smell like winter, at least for a few days.

I purchased some chocolate chip Pop-tarts today and was reminded of my time as a liftie. To me, chocolate chip Pop-Tarts taste like ski lift shacks. This is not the best flavor, even for a toaster pastry. It's not that I dislike them, it's more like they remind me of overdose. Chocolate chip Pop-tarts were my drug of choice that spring, mostly because the price was right. I'm fairly certain that the year this particular model of tart came out someone with connections (though marginally impressive connections at best) secured a shipment of the tarts for general consumption. Consume, I did. Pop-tarts for elevensies, Pop-tarts for an afternoon snack, a pocketful of Pop-tarts for later. I was menace to my innards. My body has not completely erased that memory, so I will tread carefully with the remaining six in the box.

I suppose that I was trafficking in tastebud reflections today because besides the Pop-tarts that made it into my cart, I also considered a cylinder of the orange-flavored "do-it-yourself" cinnamon rolls. Orange cinnamon rolls taste like heartbreak to me. The pictures in my mind have grown blurry; I can only see snippets of a well-couched (at least in number) living room, a blocked-off fireplace, a tear-obscured face, and a plate of the cinnamon rolls sloppily coated in icing of heart wrenching orange. The cinnamon rolls would go fairly quickly. The heartbreak would linger for years. I put back the rolls and left with orange juice. I like to think it fights disease.

Measurements in pain or GAWRSH I like running
In my life, I would bet I have run races with a distance of 5 kilometers in the neighborhood of 50 times. When I enter a 5k, I cannot say how much this experience helps me, but after my first ever 5 mile race yesterday, I'm going to guess on the side of immensely. From the get-go, my mind was very focused on the nearly 2 mile difference between a 5k and a 5 miler. I tried to slow my pace so that I could better sustain my effort. My intent for every mile was 6 minutes, but the first came out more like 5:53. I was a little jumpy and 20 or so people were off to the races and I couldn't completely let them go. It isn't my nature. Plus, there was a woman up ahead and with a nod to feminists and the crop of female runners who could crush me, I still didn't really want to get beat by a woman.

With an internal monologue in full-on nag mode and my body already starting to complain, I crossed two miles in 12:10. The third mile clicked off in 6:01 and I was at 18:11. A 5k would've been over by now, but I was again reminded of my decision to join the country in eschewing the metric system. There was a group 30 or so seconds in front of me and a few stragglers off of that group. I set my sights to pick off the stragglers in the next couple of miles and see if I could pull my time down a bit. I held what I still believe to be an appropriate level of optimism mixed in with the realism coursing through my veins.

I picked off one pretty quickly and moved on to the next. Heading up a hill, I pulled even with another and tried to coax him to go after the last straggler with me. He wished me well, but would have none of it. This point was somewhere near mile 4 and the hills were picking up or I was being crushed down; either way I was really looking for the little orange sign with the 4 on it so I could gear up for the last mile. Mile 4 came in 24:23. I was tiring and the hills kept coming. I couldn't seem to close on the last straggler and then to make matters worse, a man I'd passed some time ago made his way into my peripheral vision. I wasn't entirely unhappy to see him, I had hopes that he could keep me going strong(ish). We descended a hill and were heading past a water stop. I took a rare grab for some aqua, not something I would do in a 5k, and had a gulp. This turned out to be less refreshing than I had hoped. Or perhaps it was the hill looming in front of me.

I climbed the hill and desperately tried to keep my new mate behind me. We neared the top of the hill and I could see that our left turn would take us up another hill. In this moment, the hills, the miles, the glass of water, and weariness proved too much for me and I could only watch the man pass me by. I was broken. He pulled away. As we got halfway up the next hill I had one last spurt to dig out, but it amounted to only a few pathetic surging steps of a weary man unaccustomed to such a distance. I finished in 30:45, good enough for 15th place and 9 seconds a mile off of my goal. The good news is I have a new personal record (PR) in the 5 mile distance. Most of me would like to say that I'm headed back to the 5k where I feel at home, but it turns out that next up on the calendar is my first shot to go after a new PR. The records, they are made for the breaking.

Relax, boy. It's a movie.
Juno is not a documentary about the Internet service provider. I found this and its mildly glossy treatment of teenage pregnancy to be shocking, or at the very least a bit discomfiting. However, by viewing this movie twice I am now able to say that I have taken my seat on the Juno bandwagon. Knowing that there would be some discomfiting moments, or perhaps more accurately just accepting that this was a movie and its depth on any subject was probably not going to send teenagers pouring into the streets to have babies just the way The Program didn't have teenagers pouring into the streets to get hit by cars... wait. Movies don't kill people. People kill people. New Academy slogan? Probably not. Regardless, my second viewing enabled me to really enjoy the textures, the soundtrack, and the love story in this film. I missed a lot of those in the first viewing by being disturbed by the premise and some of the sarcasm. The humor and the poignant seemingly throw-away lines were there in both viewings. And the details, save for some curious running-related decisions, were there and to my liking. Juno has the room of a 16-year old. It's crowded and messy and not Hollywood clean. She has junk and magazine cutouts and even a spotty hamburger phone for crying out loud. Although, have I lived in the east too long or don't all the kids have cell phones these days? It's nice to think that midwestern values like marginally workable hamburger phones might still be out there.

I liked this movie and I recommend it to the holdouts, but something about it prevents me from gushing. Something is keeping me from saying "Juno is totally boss." It's not just my judicious use of slang, either. "Honest to blog."

"It's your cousin, Marvin. Marvin BERRY!"
Lost in the shuffle of thousands of songs at my click-wheel is the inertia of choosing a 'till-now-forgotten CD and then allowing it to play through 22 tracks while weaving an audio portrait of now and then.

It's possible that in 10 years I will remember that I downloaded Kelly Clarkson's hit after returning from Wildwood, New Jersey in a car full of a smelly Steve, Karpo, and Cat who discovered that we took great satisfaction in joining Kelly in a rousing top-of-our lungs rendition of the CD-repeated "SINCE YOU BEEN GONE." I might remember that I found Rhett Miller wondering if he was going to be lonely for the rest of his life on pandora.com and then downloaded him when I started to identify. He joined a mix of painful yet hopeful musicians trying to cheer me. I already can't remember why I downloaded Bowling For Soup, but I suspect it had to do with either "1985", "Almost", or I really liked the name of the band. Maybe some things are more memorable than others.

Today, about 15 years from the original purchase, I found Chuck Berry's Greatest Hits. Poor Chuck hadn't seen the inside of a CD player in quite a few years. He came from a time when I could fit all of my CDs in a little grey 12-CD carrying case. He was probably part of my neighbor's BMG purchase, along with Bob Marley, and some early Green Day that I would inherit in those years between popularity stints. I'm sure I ended up with Chuck due to some combination of Oldies 95, the local oldies FM station, Back to The Future (making another appearance this month), and the low low price of $7.95. I was a teenage bargain hunter.

As I listened through the CD, I was struck by how similar the songs sounded to each other. I wondered if maybe that's why it hadn't made the airwaves in a while. There was a song about Delilah, and I wondered what it was about that name that seems to inspire. I searched for "Johnny B. Goode" and found "Maybellene". Why can't she be true? I remembered listening to "Sweet Little Sixteen" and thinking about the girls in my class and listening to "No Particular Place To Go" and wondering how many songs have been recorded about parking. Today, I listened at work and tried to convince myself that all of this wasn't "Too Much Monkey Business"; at least not for this "Brown Eyed Handsome Man".

"...You know that new sound you've been looking for? Well, listen to this..."

"We don't speak very good English, so we'll just sing."
New rule for 2008- I will attend any event that includes a Japanese tribute band.

I didn't even know I wanted to see The Silver Beats, a Japanese Beatles tribute band made famous by those English guys that sent your mom screaming to the record store, but there I was in a sold out club pressed up against friends and strangers anticipating the coming Asian invasion. I couldn't help a little squeal of delight when four mop-topped black-suited Japanese gentlemen launched into "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

Earlier in the evening, my friends and I had played a little game of "guess The Beatles' songs" we'd hear. We got a few of them, but were continually surprised and thrilled with the songs we'd missed. I'm not a Beatles afficianado by any means, so for my purposes the Beats were a thrill. I heard a few songs I'd never heard before, but mostly the crowd and I got to bop and sing along to familiar and lovable songs. At first, everywhere I looked people were smiling with that "Am I on Candid Camera?" grin, but the more we listened and twitched in time to the music, the more genuine the smiles became. (Other theories include: more beer.)

For the encore, The Silver Beats wrapped up with "Hey, Jude." Saying goodbye to new friends that hadn't even spoken, we were happy to sway and bray together in one of those pleasant moments of community.

Then we all pushed toward the exit and tried not to trample anyone; unless he was in the way.

Opening Act
Before seeing the aforementioned Japanese Fab Four, we heard a band with a name I never quite heard. It may have been something like 300 substitutes. I have theorized that they were all substitute teachers during the day. These guys were decked out in ties and untucked dress shirts. They reminded me a bit of Jim Halpert from The Office, even their pint-sized lead singer who jumped around with manic opening band energy, had that vibe. Their songs had Halpert-esque personality too. It was that mixture of confidence and down on their luck charm. All of their songs seemed to be about break-ups, pretty girls that wouldn't pay attention to them, and love gone awry. Basically, it was up my alley, and yet still pretty unremarkable. They were fun, but forgettable. At least they were until their final song. After all of the early angst, they finally managed to package it all together in a fun and honest tune with a chorus of, "Everybody (EVERYBODY!) has somebody to F$&# tonight, but me."

Maybe you had to hear it...

tales of a burrito genie

I wanted high-class urban Tex-Mex. I wanted opaque blue glass and top shelf tequila under low lights and guacamole made at my table. I didn't even need the tequila.

I was overruled.

I ended up in line for Chipotle take-out. Chipotle has its charms, including that Life is Burrito-ful jingle, but I wasn't in the mood for the entire contents of my meal to be wrapped and bagged. A little on the dejected side, I carried my burrito-ful brown paper bag on the Metro and headed home. The crumpled bag hung at my side helping me to balance as my other hand held the railing above. I adopted the classic vacant stare, vaguely aware of my surroundings, but mostly focusing on the disappointing meal I'd have at home. As I stood there, a few stops from mine, I half-heard a young man behind me recount his beer guzzling prowess. The beer had evidently left a unquenched hunger inside him. I knew this because he announced to his friends, "I wish I had a burrito." I was facing one way. He was facing the other.

It took me a moment, but slowly, like a tourist on the escalator, I realized what this young man had uttered. I glanced down at the disappointment crumpled in my hand, raised my arm, and shoved the package over the speaker's shoulder. He looked at me oddly. I smiled encouragingly. I can't know what he was thinking for certain, but he soon came around.

"Are you serious?" he asked.
"I don't want it." I said.
He accepted and a few minutes later hunger and a complete disregard for the law overtook him. I hated to see the law broken, but a hungry young man chowing down on a free burrito was a pleasing sight.

I smiled as my thoughts wandered to the dinner that now awaited me. With only a stop to go, I considered that the smell had influenced him, or by some slim chance he'd seen the bag in my hand, but still what kind of person asks for a burrito on a train with any expectation that they'll receive one? Pleased with my act, I prepared to leave when I heard, "I wish I had a million dollars."

That's Cap'n style to you
I got a new blue J. Crew vest for Christmas. I think it's awesome. It reminds me a little of the vest Marty McFly was wearing in Back to the Future. Today I wore the vest to work and nothing else. Well, at least no coat, because that's the kind of weather we're having here. I decided that I really didn't want to take the vest off, because, well Marty wore one in 1955 and 1985. If it's good enough for Marty as he traveled through time, it's good enough for me trying to get through a Monday.

I find my vest to be extremely hip. My coworkers didn't seem to agree. Finally when asked for the third time if I was cold, I replied, "No. I'm stylish."

I don't know a lot about style, but I think that it's one of those things that if you have to declare it, it might not be true.

Great Scott.

Nike: The Power of Advertising
I've recently watched a few "conversionals" regarding the Nike+. Conversionals appear to be conversation/testimonial/commercial/Internet thingys. Nike+ appears to be an iPod, a shoe, and some tracking information. At one point I was thinking that Nike+ might be a cool thing to have. It might be a nice motivator. It could help me keep track of how far or fast I was running. After watching a few conversionals, I've decided that I'm happy that Nike+ is creating new runners because I think running is a good thing, but I don't identify with these people. Nike advertising has generally been about striving toward something; "Just Do It" was about not making excuses and going after something. It left room for interpretation about what "It" was- Olympic gold or running around the block. These Nike+ conversionals seem to be about the way that Nike+ has turned the unmotivated into motivated. It's the ugly side of Just Do It. It says to me that Nike+ is the only thing keeping these people off the couch. I don't want people to know that a shoe and a pod are the only reasons I can think to run. I want them to think a fire burns inside of me. Forget them, I want to think a fire burns inside of me. I want to Just Do It, I don't want to just barely do it if the right music is playing.

This is branding! And for the time being, it has alienated this potential customer.

(Update: Ok. But the Need Motivation? commercial is pretty cool. Maybe I shouldn't make my decisions based on advertising.)

An incomplete caboodle

- I have work guilt. Today, I had to ask for help to order some cardboard boxes because that process has changed significantly in the last few years. When offered the opportunity to learn how to order the boxes, I rather aggressively declined. My response was something like, "I don't want to learn anything new because then you'll just make me do it." This is either standing up for myself or being a jerk. I haven't decided which, but I think I'm leaning toward the latter.

-The thing I like about my Raspberry Zing tea is that it leaves a little red mark at the bottom of the cup. I like to pretend these are lip prints left by my lover. I'm fairly certain this makes my lover a shriveled bag of tea.

-I went to a real gym today and discovered some things:
1. There's a certain charm to music videos that I had forgotten.
2. Gym owners can add windows, bright lights, and put the gym on the second floor up above the street, but there's a point in the workout when I still feel trapped in a dungeon.
3. I run faster when the little screen attached to my treadmill has women wrestling. I slowed down when they tagged their male partners. I had no idea WWE had coed wrestling or that wrestling was good treadmill viewing material.

Enjoying the movie Enchanted in a few easy steps

-Accept Disney propaganda. Only Disney could sell its soul, girl power, hyper-feminine dresses for little girls, and a hybrid of romance and reality without selling any of it at all.

-Don't watch Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story first. Dewey trained me to laugh at everything by telling me exactly what the jokes were as they were happening. Enchanted didn't do that. It left me wondering whether it was making fun of itself, Snow White, or me. I'm not sure even the writers were certain.

-Go with a laugher. This movie is much better with someone that giggles, chuckles, and even cheers in the event that a big song and dance number takes place.

Version 2008 is released

Last year had some nice moments and worthy achievements. I think I learned some important lessons, but I am quite pleased to toss the old calendars and break out some new ones.

Hello, January 1.

About a month ago, I entered a 5k race just to see how things would feel. I was anticipating the slowest race of my life, but I surprised myself a bit with a decent showing. At one point about halfway through the race I was running with the leaders and feeling pretty good about myself. There was a little course wiggle and I decided to go ahead and exert my dominance. This surge awakened the others around me and from that moment on I watched as the lead pack left me in the dust and my mid-race confidence turned into the aches and pains of six not-so-good training months. I managed to finish fourth with a time of 17:59. I was not displeased, but had to smirk at my foolish mid-race move.

Today, the first day of a new year, I raced again. It was a perfect day for a race. By start time I had shed my stocking cap and my running pants, opting only for shorts and a long underwear top older than some of my competitors. Just before the words "Go," the sun broke through the clouds and I could feel the heat absorbed in my shirt.

I soon found myself moving along with the top 10 or so runners. I pulled into about fifth place as we descended a hill. Up the hill I locked on to the fourth place runner and we began a very pleasant duel. He'd pass me, I'd pass him, we'd run side by side and slowly we creeped up on the second and third place runners. We crossed the mile in about 5:30. Then we overtook one of those ahead of us, and he fell back immediately, but the other was determined to fend us off. I could feel the effort he was exerting to stay in front of us. There's a beautiful mental dance that goes on within a race and this gentleman in second desperately wanted us to settle into his pace. I felt good, but recalling my experience from a month ago, I decided to give in a little and we became three. Our new partner stayed in it for a bit, but just could not quite find his comfort zone and he started to fall back as we made the second loop on the course. My other competitor stayed strong. I held off a little as we were going down the hill again and I tried not to push too hard back up, knowing that I still had a little over a mile to go. On the way up, I started to feel a little distance between us. We'd been in sight of the leader most of this time. He was way out there, but didn't seem out of reach. I felt good that I was even looking in his direction. I also was starting to tire.

As an aside, this time is the time when I both understand the recreational racers adoration of the iPod to block out the pain and the time when I wonder why anyone would want to be with any sound but his or her own thoughts. The internal conversation that goes on when the fun wears off is painfully glorious. I remember a few of my thoughts as I crested the hill and rounded a turn. The first was a gut check, and I used that very phrase. "It's gut check time." My guts were relatively intact. I can't tell for sure if I was making up any time on the leader, but I felt like I was gaining inches on my competitor behind me. He was now "out of touch," that comfortable place where a single move could vault him past me. His efforts would now have to be sustained to defeat me. I tried not to focus on him because I felt that if I could continue with strength I had him beat. So I focused forward, but my lungs, my legs, and my heart were aching. The finish line was coming. My chances to win were growing miniscule. I probably could have cruised in at this point, but 2007 (and races far older than that) would not allow it. "Don't let this race close out like your year. Do NOT sputter to a close. Finish with what you've got."

I didn't tap into all my resources, but I picked up the pace and finished strong in 17:25. We're off to a good start. Happy New Year!