Modern decadence

It feels kind of decadent to come home at 2:30pm and take a three-hour nap. Granted, I've kept myself pretty busy for the last three hours. Folding laundry, vacuuming, cleaning, dinner, and then I cut up two cantaloup and a bunch of bananas and blended it with some cocoa. The first glass was sweet. The second glass is about 40% white chocalate Irish cream.

"Save It"

Don't save it cause the right time is the one we're in
So no more waiting to begin
Open my heart, going to let it sing
Each grain of sand is everything
The truth is never quite so far
We can never walk away from who we are...
- The Planet Smashers, from "Save It"

Battle damage. Darren 1, Winter 0.

I went up to the Handlebar and as I was finishing a pint, thinking no snow-biking tonight, Carl came in looking for a ride. So he an I headed out to Lincoln Park and the Lakefront path, up north to Belmont and then down to Soldier Field. He fucked up something on his rear rim on our second or third time down the hill in front of the Field, so he caught a bus home downtown. Altogether, probably 18-20 miles in the little bit of snow and slush we had. But fun. A blast, really.

I took a tumble in Lincoln Park just east of Armitage, and broke the end of my right pedal and bruised my left ankle pretty well. Battle damage. Darren 1, Winter 0.

Right now, I'm doing a last bit of laundry before shower and bed. There's a small chance, vanishing as a I write, that Laura G. is going to call to go out tonight, so I'm just continuing my ADLs. Tomorrow promises to be a fulfilling day if I'm not overtired as I'm likely to be. But damn, it was worth it. Hopefully tomorrow will be as well.

Too bad there's no way for me to translate the essence of the horn line of the song I'm listening to into text, to title this post with.

So after some tea and some cleaning and some rocking out, I'm feeling better. (Laura W. told me "labile" was a good mood descriptor the other day.) Maybe it's because the sun set and there's still light snow coming down. I don't think it hit the two-inch threshold to declare snow-biking, but I'm going to head over to the Handlebar later to see if anyone's heading out. If not, I'll have a pint and get some snow-biking of my own in. Actually, I'm still drinking the tea, which is about a third irish cream.

Someone's lighting off huge fireworks over the park across the street right now.

I was thinking the other day that a lot of my decision-making is fear-based. Or rather, fully admitted to myself that it is. Granted, a lot of the big decisions that resulted from this have worked out alright anyway. I think I chose Northwestern for its proximity to Chicago - a city I was at least familiar with, considering my reasonably sheltered suburban upbringing - as well as its proximity to my parents - but not too proximal; I still wanted to get the fuck away from them, just not too far away. Same deal with not studying abroad in college - a bit of that was pure laziness on my part, though most of it was fear of the unknown. There're probably many people I never got to know well due to not only to a pretty irrational fear of rejection, but a fear of the active life they lead. In the relatively few cases where I've gone ahead and challenged my fears, the results have overall been positive, and my life has become fuller for it.

I think I've gotten better in the last few years. (This is part of maturity, right?) Still not perfect, by any means, but what is in this world? At least now I recognize the fear component in my compulsive choices, and can disregard it if it's not rational.

Hell, I've decided to practice in the city since I've grown to adore urban life, and want to be surrounded by its vitality and decay (oxymoronic, I know) daily, even though it's considered a less savy economic decision in the practice of orthodontics. Yeah, it's riskier for me and will take more work, and it's kind of a personal boogie-man of mine, but I'm feeling more and more strongly about it daily.

The same with biking. I've grabbed it by the handlebars (yuk, yuk) and taken to it, despite my initial reticence toward getting into traffic. It's a matter of familiarity and comfort - now when I stick to side streets, it's usually safety-motivated due to traffic intensity. Danny comments how when we ride together, he rides in the traditional right side of the road position and I pull the center of the lane.

I think it was really falling in love for the first time that showed me that I enjoy new things and being surprised, that comfort and controlling my environment can sometimes be an insidious trap. Ironically, that same relationship led me to complacency in promoting my own personal development - it was only afterward, when I found myself once again progressing in the task of living and refining a more ethical life for myself that I realized it. But that's a story for another time, if you don't already know it.

Please save me from the super-powers that I don't believe in.

I just woke up from a 30-minute nap on the couch. The kind where you start feeling sleepy while sitting up, and just kind of topple over to the side with your legs still hanging off in sitting position. I'd like to get some reading for my board exam done tonight, but I really don't see much chance of that happening. Who knows, though; I could very well find myself bored and in need of orthodontic stimulation later this evening. First, though, I plan to do some badly needed laundry and light cleaning.

At WNUR last night, I found myself feeling apathetic toward the show. I don't know why, exactly. I mean, when I can do a really good show, I enjoy it. I think maybe I was just too lazy to really pull a good variety of music. It's a toss-up - most of the kids doing the show don't really care enough to really branch out and explore the stuff they normally wouldn't listen to and do a well-rounded show, but I don't want to put in the time to do it all myself. Maybe I'm just too attached to the show. I want to stay involved at the station, but I don't want as much responsibility as I've taken onto my shoulders. Which means a diminution of show quality, most likely.

I remember that four years ago, when I was still dating Sara, we'd both planned on cutting back. The difference then was that I was working my ass off studying with school and had trouble making free time, and there was a pretty good crew on the show: Phil, Terry, Laura W., etc. Then Sara and I broke up and after that Marta and I started dating and I was pulled back in full-time. And when friends departed the city for further pastures after dental school, and Marta broke up with me, DJing gave me something to do and look forward to. Music in general did, really. Of the people there now, Travis is the only one that ever goes to shows - and even then rarely.

Maybe that's what I need to do now - just cut back and not go in every week. Maybe after phonathon in a few weeks, that's what I'll do. It'll be nice to not have an every-Saturday obligation.

I met my dad for brunch in Wicker Park this morning. He told me that my brother seems to be unhappy with life, due partly to his medical conditions, and partly due to his feeling that my parents pushed him too hard without being supportive enough. I told my dad that neither he nor my mom have been very supportive outside the academic/professional realm, and he shrugged it off as them just wanting us to succeed. Regardless, the meal was good. My dad bought me a new scally cap he found for $10 somewhere.

The gray day outside is really affecting my mood. Or should I say "effecting?" Yesterday it was sunny and I was in a good mood; today the sky is sludgy gray and I have no desire to do anything at all, even though I've been out to run a few errands. I think I'm going to make myself some fortified tea and see if life can get back into me.

The WNUR Phonathon all-staff meeting is Wednesday; I think I'll use it as an excuse to ride my bike up to Evanston - and back. That should be fun. Thursday is Ska Night at Delilah's, and Friday is Critical Mass. Both also fun, especially with some winter biking thrown in.

In other news, my calm-the-fuck-down plan seems to be working pretty well. Of course, I can be easily excited and overly optimistic, two traits which lend themselves to disappointment.

I love Braid's "Collect From Clark Kent." Brilliant song.

Current Satiety

Thursday night I went up to Neo to meet Liv and Les and Ryan for New Wave Night. Liv and Les weren't able to make it; they got a call that their pregnant dobie might be going into labor and bailed on the way out. Ryan showed, so we hung out for a while before I came home.

I was planning on going to the winter bike to work rally at Daley Plaza Friday morning, but Thursday's late night induced me to sleep an extra hour and skip it.

I saw Shawn for his retainer delivery yesterday; he was showing me his practice website as well as the place in Lincoln Park his wife interviewed at. He was talking about Schwa Restaurant and damn if he didn't make it sound so fucking good. Hopefully I'll be able to swing by there someday.

Last night Laura W. and I went to the Melting Pot. It was pretty damn good; I hadn't been there since her graduation party. We demolished our food:


We went to the Green Eye for a pint afterwards since some of Alicia's paintings are up on the walls there. We were both pretty tired, so we headed back to my place for tea and watched old episodes of The West Wing until we passed out. She was going to stay at her brother's place, but decided to crash on my couch instead of driving down to Hyde Park. I went to bed while she was still watching TV; when I woke up this morning, she'd already left.

I hustled up to Filter - where Alicia's paintings are also up - to meet her and Alicia and Cari, stuffed my face, got grilled about Laura G. a bit by Alicia and Cari, then headed up to Circuit City to pick up an SD card reader. If I knew the damn thing only cost seven dollars, I would've gone to get one last week.

Despite a temperature in the 20s, the ride was fun and I was sweaty by the time I got home. I think I need to revise my severe cold weather dress; rather than bundling up too much, I should do some quick warmups before getting on the bike to work up my body temp.

The rest of the day will likely be spent cleaning, relaxing, and (hopefully) getting some ABO reading done.

I'm looking forward to seeing Laura G. on Monday...

Look at Danny's dirty ass!

Before I head out to Neo to meet Liv, Les, and Ryan, here's some photos from last weekend. Enjoy!

After my Saturday night plans aborted, I took a bottle of Young's Old Nick out to the park across the street.

I love Chicago.

These are smart pigeons. Eternal flame at Daley Plaza.

Beer Run! Route map to Three Floyds. Note the Picasso is holding a beer stein.

Three Floyds Bike Rack:

Danny after drinking beer.

Darren after drinking beer.

One for the road. The waitress "didn't see me do that."

Danny needs fenders. Look at his dirty ass!

Danny's anxious to leave.

Darren would like to keep drinking beer.

After a piss break in Hyde Park.

After Sunday night's plans aborted, I looked out my window at the city.

Monday I went to the Pickwick with Liv and Les.

Toro (short for Skeletor) is their rescue dobie. He's a little shy.

Bingo is not shy at all.

He likes to get right in your face...

...and cuddle.

Better = Enthused Indifference

Yeah, so after mooching dinner from the AAWD Specialty Night spread and talking with some people, I'm feeling better. I like Persian food. And cookies. I also ate a bag of candy someone left in the lab from our holiday party. Now I'm just tired. Or, to borrow a phrase from Ryan, I'm feeling an enthused indifference toward the world right now. I talked with Siddhi for a few minutes and she put a few things in perspective for me, too, before pinching my face as she is wont to do. Whatever, I'm going home now, to drink beer and read before I crash for the night.

I want a beer. Or five.

I think I'm overtired. Or maybe it's my cold. Regardless, I'm in a shitty mood right now. I want to withdraw and pretend the world doesn't exist. It's actually a bit of a comforting feeling. My horizons are extremely limited at the moment, and I'm extremely pessimistic.

Insult and injury

I've got a bruise on my shin somehow. I can't remember it happening. My right shoulder is having some ligament pain...this happens periodically, and it's positional rather than strain-induced. This, I think, is due to the extensive bike riding and arm support required on Sunday's ride. My left knee was bugging me too, but it's better now.

I've got about two tons of shit to do today; hopefully it'll get done quickly. This morning's presentation went fast; Nyasha and I were done in 15 minutes, and then when no one had questions initially, we got pimped by my department head for a while. But like I told Louie, I'd rather have someone have high expectations of me and fail to meet them than succeed in meeting constantly low expectations.

My 11:30 patient is fifteen minutes late. The one patient I have that I don't get along with. She did call to say she was running late, though. Ugh.

So crisp it feels like it could break

I just got home and finished dinner. The air outside is so crisp it feels like it could break. The city lights are sparkling clear. The north wind bites into my skin, and I was three quarters of the way home before I started to warm up. By the time I rolled up to my door, I could have gone for miles more.

Today I woke up at four fucking thirty in the morning after five goddamn hours of sleep. I couldn't fall asleep. I was actually just getting comfortable in my bed when the alarm went off at 5:30. I still didn't want to get up, since the bed was warm and the apartment was not. Despite that, and several very boring stretches, today was a good day. I feel good, despite the snot guyser that my left nostril has become and the exhaustion inching its way forward from the back of my skull.

Cracklings and toast for dinner tonight. Surprisingly fulfilling. I think I'll have some chamomile with honey when I'm done here. Last night with Liv and Les I ended up having french toast and bacon at the Pick Wick. The waitress commented on the comfort food aspect of my order, and all I could do was laugh.

Check what Laura G. wrote about Noon O Kabab. I told her it's hard to believe she got all that from our meal. I really don't have good justification for my insecurities. I really want to get to know her better and better. Liv, I think it was, made me the good wish that she hopes it takes a long time. I know it sounds kinda pessimistic, but think harder...

To respond to Laura W.'s (fuck, this is starting to get confusing) comment about feminism: it's hard to escape that there are certain physiological differences between men and women. In some respects, women are a separate group with separate concerns than men, on a purely physical level as well as a class of people that has historically been discriminated against.

This isn't a justification for prejudice or discrimination, and doesn't - and shouldn't - mean anything like one is better or worse than the other. It does, however, mean there are some basic natural inequalities which, in a just society, should be accepted or even celebrated as an expression of our humanity - that of both men and women. Regardless, until something like gender equality becomes entrenched in our society, equality is a "women's issue." The other point I'd like to make is that "women's issues" don't just belong to women, they belong to all of us.

I'd love to live in a world where feminism was unnecessary and humanism as a philosophy explicitly and adequately accounted for the human condition of everyone, male and female. Until that happens, though, I'll proudly call myself a feminist.

We're all a bunch of monkeys

I've described myself as a feminist to many people. I read a piece by Gloria Steinem this morning, and although the overall piece pretty much said that bad people are bad people regardless of gender, I think this paragraph is worthy of repetition, since feminism is pretty misunderstood (I have liberal/progressive female friends who don't consider themselves feminists and sometimes even seem to prefer the double-standard - when it's in their favor):

In fact, feminism is just the belief that all people have the full circle of human qualities combined in a unique way in each of us. The simplistic labels of "feminine" and "masculine" are mostly about what society wants us to do: submerge our unique humanity in care giving and reproducing if we're women, and trade our unique humanity for power if we're men.

Waiting for the great leap forwards

It's 6:30 in the morning, I didn't sleep well last night, I think I'm coming down with a cold, and the sky is barely turning blue. It's 20 degrees outside and I'm going to ride my bike to school. I feel great. No idea why. Here's hoping it lasts all day.

Reality calling to the emotion zone

After electronic conversations with Ryan and Laura W. - yes, this is going to get confusing - I'm feeling much more optimistic. And fed up with myself, but that's my own hangup. Hopefully my emotional state will start listening to reality soon. If anyone else wants to positively reinforce me, please feel free.

Laura G. told me she got home from work just dead exhausted last night. I can't argue; I was feeling that way myself.

After spending half the day moping around and feeling physically shitty and sorry for myself, I went out and got some stencils. I thought that spraypaint required ID in Chicago, but the hardware store told me it's illegal to cell in the city limits. Bullshit. Now I gotta pick up some suburban spraypaint somewhere. I think red and black should be fine for beginners.

I picked up some fruit and some groceries, since I was getting low on a few things. Snow had started coming down by then, but I was driving and the weather didn't penetrate my climate-controlled transport cubicle.

This evening I've made some fresh grape juice/slurry in the blender, and installed the external hard drive I got last week. Tomorrow I need to see about getting a cheap card-reader so I can actually upload my photos I've been taking. I'm heading out to meet up with Liv and Les for a little bit tonight before I come home and crash in preparation for tomorrow's early rise.

Of all the CDs I filed Saturday, I can't find my copy of Rancid's Indestructible or the Suicide Machines' A Match and Some Gasoline. Thankfully they were both burned copies and can be recovered from either WNUR, a friend, or if need be, the inter-web.

Yeah, what an exciting day. Tomorrow I've got a 7am lecture, and Wednesday Nyasha and I have to present a pedo-ortho case, which is always a blast. Feh. Looking forward to some sleep.

A metaphor for my day

I just saw a huge snowflake fall to the pavement across the street and melt.

"Let's get this show on the road," said the coma girl to the excitement gang.

Right now I'm sitting in bed listening to the incredibly odd mix of songs my MP3 player seems to be putting out. I like it. From punk to jazz to reggae to folk to whatever. When Alton Ellis's version of "Change of Plan" came on, I had to put down my book and lay back and listen; to my neurotically pessimistic state of mind, some of the lyrics were right fucking on.

I never heard from Laura last night. I tried calling, but no answer. So she didn't come over as previously discussed. Color me disappointed. Truth be told, though, I was so tired I was passing out by 11pm anyway. I woke up at 7:30 this morning, all tired and sore still, but wide awake. Maybe a little hungover, too, but I did most of my sobering up last night, and rehydrated heavily as well. Those ten-point beers sure can knock you back.

The ride yesterday was a blast. I've known Danny for six and a half years, but we never started to become friends until a few months ago. A fair amount of that was my part, I think. But it was good to talk with him and hang out for a while.

I was thinking of the insecurities I have, and how I seem to need constant reinforcement sometimes. When I was younger, I really trusted no one. Yeah, it was lonely, and yeah, it hurt sometimes, but it was a predictable, manageable pain - unlike that inflicted (intentionally or not) by other people.

By the time I hit second grade, I was in my fourth or fifth school since my family had moved around so much. I felt like I was constantly at the low end of the totem pole, and never really caught up with my peers socially, until finally at one point in high school I decided that the game wasn't worth playing and I could create my own world with whoever I wanted to let in.

This plan didn't work that well; when I was eighteen, my dog Rocky was hit by a car and we weren't sure if we were going to have to put him to sleep or not. I remember laying on the floor with him at 1am telling him he was the best friend I had since he never judged and always listened. But at that point the plan was still better than the old plan of trying to follow the trends and catch up with the crowd, especially since I was so inept at it.

My parents had me seeing a child psychologist both when I was seven and then again at eleven. I just thought it was a normal thing that everyone did every Saturday at first; I can't remember when it really occurred to me that not everyone did this.

When I was eleven, my day had switched to Tuesday. I remember after my mom would pick me up, we'd usually get Little Caesar's or Brown's Chicken for dinner. I don't know if it was a ploy to buy me off, but I came cheaply then. The psychologist, Dr. Crockett, bought me off with candy and soda.

Dr. Crockett wanted me to draw a picture once. Being eleven years old, and this being 1989 or '90, I drew a teenage mutant ninja turtle. Of course, since I didn't want to draw anything for this woman, I drew it very shittily and quickly just to get it over with. After she heaped lavish praise on me and my shitty drawing, I didn't trust a thing that came out of her mouth. That, coupled with my wising up to the fact that she would discuss our sessions with my mom afterward, induced me to really not be honest or completely forthcoming with her.

Ironic, isn't it, that seeing a psychologist induced more reticence in me? I don't know why I stopped going; maybe I stopped making "progress," or maybe I was "fixed."

When I was fifteen, my parents wanted to do group therapy with me so I'd relate to them better. (I say "relate to them" since they've never showed any real inclination to relate to me.) I think we had one session with Dr. Kane. I told them if they wanted me to go back, they'd have to physically drag me. I think they offered to pay me a pretty hefty sum, and I told them I didn't want it.

I think it would be interesting to read the notes from those childhood therapy sessions. I have a copy of my pediatrician's records, and there was a note that my dad was concerned I was clinically depressed.

Two years ago, my family was in Keystone, me with my swollen ankle and my brother sick and my parents skiing while I went stir-crazy. My parents and I went to dinner at a restaurant on the top of the mountain, to which we had to take two gondolas. On the way back, they admitted that my brother did play them off against me when we were young, and they unintentionally gave him more attention because of his immune deficiency. I think I changed the subject and then the trip was over soon after that.

I have the two periodic tables from Doug Coupland's Shampoo Planet taped up on my wall; one of the elements, "Oo" is "moodswing." Smokey Robinson's "Tears of a Clown" just came on, and I remember a quote from Billy Bragg saying that he used to think love was like a Smokey Robinson song, until he fell in love. He said he still listens to Smokey Robinson, but tries to write love songs without love.

I think it's time to get up and shower and definitely eat something. Once I've got some food in my belly, it's much easier to shut out the disappointment and work on developing my solo life.

Sometimes the old way of complete lack of trust is very tempting. Two years ago, when Marta told me I was a burden, it seemed to validate every fear I'd had coming of age. There were so many times when I felt things would be easier for everyone if I wasn't around. Sometimes I still feel that way, that my impact is so minimal it doesn't really matter. When she said that to me, it seemed to justify every moment of shutting people out and never letting anyone close or relying on them. I resolved to be that way again; it seemed like the only response that would prevent me from being a burden on others. But then I fell asleep, woke up, and forgave her since I was so in love.

I'm not heading back down that road right now, though. I guess I'm just too much of an optimist, even though sometimes it feels like I crash and burn rather than soar.

Fuck, I really need to eat something.

Headwind; cold rain to break me

I just walked in the door from the Three Floyds Ride. I'm still pretty buzzed, considering 4 beers at the place and one on the road in the bike bottle. All my fat parts are cold - ass, stomach, love handles - whether this is due to the temperature outside or the fact that Danny and I ended up waiting for a few slow-pokes on the windy-ass Lakefront Path, I don't know. I do know that the ride was a blast, and I intend to repeat it next year, since I love bicycling and I love beer.

The ride down was pretty cool - I was getting tired by the time we got there, but I was also sweaty and probably pushing myself. The ride back, however, was all upwind. I was with the group, but then Danny got caught back with one slow rider, and I stopped to wait for him/them, and to take a leak. (Public urination on the return trip is a common byproduct of this ride.) Anyway, we kept with him, despite his need for breaks, until we got downtown, when he and Danny decided to hit a Dunkin' Donuts and I headed for home. It was drizzling slightly by the time I got back, but the "wintry mix" that was forecast never really materialized.

Anyway, the beer was delicious (as was the food) and I need to shower. Laura's supposed to come over later.

Delroy Wilson, the Cool Operator

I just finished cleaning and lubing my bike chain. (The tire pressure was fine.) It actually looks like metal now - instead of black fuzzy grease - which is pretty cool. I put some new wet lube on there, too, in anticipation of tomorrow's likely inclemency.

In case you missed it (or I haven't mentioned it), tomorrow's the 65-mile round trip Three Floyds Ride, from Daley Plaza to the Three Floyds Brewery and Brewpub in Munster, IN. Danny called earlier, and he's not sure if he's going to be able to make it, since he's a little afraid of the weather. I know the forecast calls for snow and rain, but looking at the latest radar maps, it really shouldn't be that bad. I've probably ridden in worse - granted, not for three hours at a time - and I've definitely done some extended periods in rain and such. Really, once we get going, I'm sure the problem will be overheating, especially with the spiffy windbreaker/rainjacket I picked up a few weeks ago. Danny was getting ready to do some bike maintenance anyway, just in case.

I think I rode close to 12-13 miles today, heading to the House of Blues to pick up tix for Naked Raygun and then up to the Metro to pick up tix for Anti-Flag. So that's at least two shows to look forward to. I got home and needed a nap, which I took after showering and cleaning a few things up.

Laura called me this afternoon, and had just found out that her ex-boyfriend from a year or so ago was flying into town for her party tonight. I think she may have been going to ask anyway, but I volunteered to skip the party if that would be easier on her. She said that would be best since he would know everyone there and I would know maybe one other person. Intellectually, I know that I needn't be, but I can't help being a little jealous. I was looking forward to tonight, too, but that's alright; it's her party and I'll stay away if she needs me to. You would stay too if it happened to you. I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night, though, since Laura and I are planning to get together.

I went to Binny's tonight and stocked up on some cerveza; I think I grabbed a pint bottle of every different type of Young's they had. And some Tripel Karmeliet kits w/ glasses, so I can serve my fancy beer in style. I popped a bottle of Young's Old Nick and went to the park across the street, and took what I think is a cool picture of the downtown skyline behind my streetfront. Of course, the fucking connection to my computer isn't working, so until I either go to school or pick up a cardreader, you'll have to take my word for it.

I talked to Dani for half an hour or so, and was able to catch up on things, which is always good. I've always felt I could lay anything out for her I felt like talking about, and it's still comforting to have that, even if I don't need it.

Delroy Wilson is on the speakers right now, and I think the diphenhydramine I took is starting to kick in...

It wasn't until tonight I found out I was right.

I did need to re-fucking-lax. I did. And tonight was great.

I had dinner with Laura and we hung out and talked. And walked her puppy, and kissed her goodnight. Several times.

Ryan, you need to e-mail and tell me what's going on with you.

Up with it came our pain and fear

A strange combination of clarity and exhaustion right now. Maybe I just need to calm the fuck down.

This was the only compensation for waking up at the ass-end of yesterday morning:

Eat your fucking heart out.

I don't know why every post lately has been titled with song lyrics. I think it may be reflective of my lack of good turns of phrase.