I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

There's nothing quite like coming home sweaty from a below-freezing bike ride. I just got home, obviously. Fun night. See below.

I thought I had the winter biking wardrobe issues conquered, and then I overdressed for my ride up to Delilah's last night. I got to the bar and was really sweating, even though I had unzipped my windbreaker and let my one long sleeve shirt hang out in the wind. Then tonight, wearing about the same thing, I froze my fucking dick off during Critical Mass (due to the slow riding pace) and then of course sweated my sack off riding at speed post-Mass.

I met Laura W., Alicia and Alexis at Delilah's last night for Ska Night. The cops were blocking Cortland off again around the Finkl steelworks. I don't know why they do it so frequently. Alicia and Laura showed up at D's later, and I didn't realize they had arrived until Laura rubbed my fuzzy head from behind. Alicia seemed surprised Alexis was there. Alicia asked me to make her some mix CDs - I have the list somewhere, and hopefully I can get to it in a decent period of time. Laura and Alicia didn't realize how late it was and had to leave suddenly, and I ended up with Laura's almost full Duchesse. I moved down the bar and sat and talked with Chuck for a good long while, as usually happens when alone at Ska Night.

Chuck gave me a copy of the new Deal's Gone Bad record. He gave me a copy of the LP dub version of Go Jimmy Go's latest as well, but I had to give it back since I had no way to carry the damn thing home on my bike with no bag.

I really need to start cooking for myself again. It's been a while, aside from frozen gyoza and gourmet sausages. That simple shit doesn't count. I guess part of the problem is that I'm so damn tired, or get fed elsewhere. Yesterday I dined on a half bag of baby carrots, free pizza lunch, and whatever leftover chex mix and pretzels Chuck and I begged from Delilah's at the end of the night.

On the ride home I was singing Lawrence Arms songs so profusely, I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

The topic of friends reading my blog has come up in conversations with several different people this week. I had one friend tell me she felt voyeuristic the few times she's read it, and another tell me she had to pretend she hadn't read it so she didn't ruin some story I was telling - I told her the story wouldn't have been ruined; don't worry, the blog would be hidden and secret if I intended it to be...

Dana called me last night and we talked for a good while. She has a positive outlook on so many things, it's often very refreshing to talk to her. (Sometimes overly optimistic, like the time she told me the girl I'd talked to for one night in Michigan was going to be my future wife. Uh, nope. But the optimism was appreciated at the time.)

I get new mysterious grease stains on everything. How did grease get on my left fucking knee last night? How did it get onto the top surface of my rear bike rack? How did it get onto my nose earlier? The great unknown...

I finished Bill Bryson's A Walk In the Woods last night. I picked it off my shelf since Ryan K. had mentioned he'd read it and really enjoyed it. At the end of it, I was thinking of how Ryan used to walk all over the city late at night, when he wasn't working and was out late a lot. I suppose it can be rather relaxing, the simple physical exertion and repetition of it.

I was telling Alexis last night that biking around the city makes me, or maybe more accurately, lets me see it differently. Every trip I make doesn't have some nondescript "in-between" but rather a constant change of locale at a rate that allows it to be experienced. Plus I'm not encased in a 2,000-pound climate-controlled cage.

I need to superglue my shoes again to make sure the soles stay on.

Last summer, I was wearing my "choose your weapon" shirt, with a bike and tank , at my grandparents' farm town. All the loving Christians in my family loved it (truthfully). Of course, they all still vote for Bush "because he's a good Christian." Puke.

I was handing out the remainder of the Special Export that Kamiar gave me during the Mass tonight. At the end, I was standing out in the middle of Chicago Ave drinking with a bunch of punk kids, who in turn shared their homemade honey wine and invited me down to Happiness House for both more wine and rock music.

They had a huge cooler full of homebrewed honey wine, generously spiced with ginger, and I ended up discussing the nature of revolution and social change with some squatter girl, and how human psychology and lasting change dictate the slow conversion of large numbers of people and progressive cultural change. It was nice to talk with people who see the status quo as something worth changing and improving, and can visualize a different world worth taking action for.


I didn't get any pictures of the first guy to play, but it was some guy with a banjo, and it was a pretty fucking great showing. I have a newfound respect for the banjo, especially when played fast and loud with raw vocals and a great sense of humor. Some disco/dance-punk band played next, and they were pretty fun as well, although the whole band was a one-off for this show I think. They played "Going to Georgia," which made my night.

Right now I'm fucking zonked, and I've got a ton of work to do this weekend for my presentation next Wednesday, especially considering that Dana asked me to go out for her birthday on Tuesday night. I need to shower and sleep.

I like my bike.

The great thing about this warmer weather is my hesitancy to bike is dispersing. I went to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir show at the Empty Bottle tonight, and met Alicia's friend Alexis there, and her friend Romi. The show was OK, but a little short. It was also free, so who am I to complain. The conversation was pretty good too.

The ride home was a blast. Not even long enough for three songs to play, but I was singing at the top of my lungs the whole way, except when I ran out of breath. I'm sure it set dogs to wailing in my passing - my singing voice is not what anyone would call "great."

I'm looking forward to Critical Mass this Friday. I need to make sure I can strap the remainder of that case of Special Ex to the back of my bike to freely distribute.

And hey, I actually got shit done today. Of course, I realized I have more shit to do than I thought, but some emotional momentum was developed...

More laugh out loud...

Again from A Walk In the Woods:

It would be just my luck, of course, to be savaged by an animal with a flea collar and a medical history. I imagined lying on my back, being extravagantly ravaged, inclining my head slightly to read a dangling silver tag that said: "My name is Mr. Bojangles. If found please call Tanya and Vinny at 924-4667."

I think the date was May 9, 2003.

My aunt Susan and uncle Alex used to live in Saddle River, New Jersey, until a year or two ago, when they moved to a penthouse in Fort Lee. A quarter mile from their place was a rather grand garden shop. And by shop, I mean outdoor nursery, complete with ponds, fish, concrete sculptures, plants, etc. You could drive around inside the grounds, it was so big.

Four years ago, I was in town for my cousin Ramin's bachelor party. Ramin is John's older half-brother; his house was maybe a half-mile away from this place. John and I were both staying at Susan and Alex's, his parents' house. The bachelor party was Saturday, but he and I were both in town on Friday, and the things I remember about that day are the way he would be sending email on his Blackberry while driving down busy streets (pretty fucking stupid, in my book) and stopping by this nursery on the way back to his parents' house for some reason I can't remember. Maybe he wanted to buy something for them, who knows.

I hadn't remembered that in all the time since until tonight. The phrase, "Sunfish Pond," in A Walk In the Woods is what brought it to mind, since this nursery had a huge koi pond in the front, which was rather peaceful.

I think the date was May 9, 2003. The next day we played paintball with my uncles and cousins and then had a huge dinner in the basement of some Italian slaughterhouse in Manhattan's old meat district, then to some "gentlemen's club" where I wished I was back in Chicago with my girlfriend at the time. That Sunday was Mother's Day, but my dad had flown back to California, and John had as well. I had a mother's day brunch with my aunts Parvin and Susan, my grandmother, Ramin, Lisa, and Paul. It was gray out, and then I had to fly back to Chicago. Marta and I had a huge fight that week, and she did one of the things which - at that point - I was totally incapable of doing; she didn't give up on our relationship even after I had, and it shocked me in a way I hadn't been before.

Am I becoming an indie rocker?

I've been grooving so much on the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir the last few days. And some of the best records I've been into lately have been by non-punk/post-punk bands. Am I becoming an indie rocker? Is it possible? Well, there's no fucking scene, just a bunch of people standing around.

Who gives a fuck, really? I likes what I likes. When I start pigeon-holing myself is when I start to miss out on the good stuff.

I could really use a good punk record, though. Anthony had Minor Threat and Bad Brains on when we were doing station packing last night, and I was air-guitarring and singing along the whole while.

Fuck.

Fantabulous!

I stole the Alkaline Trio b-sides set Remains from WNUR. It's not like the Rock Show will add the fucking thing anyway. Whether it makes it to the Fast n Loud stacks, we'll see. Half the songs (the best ones) are already there on the various comps they were originally released on.

I'm following a Tripel Karmeliet with Young's Double Chocolate Stout, and for the first time the chocolate grabs me every time I tip my glass up. Fantabulous!

I was just thinking of my tendency to become self-reflectively moody, and what a fucking rut it can put me in. Sometimes being sad is so much easier than being happy. You don't have to worry about becoming more depressed.

Sleep, and the lack thereof.

I've napped an aggregate of two hours today (or more), most recently in the form of a 75 minute nap in the lounge here at school in the quite possibly mistaken belief that I'd get some work done tonight. I've looked at my little to-do list, and I've knocked a fair amount of stuff off it today during the day, but right now apathy is setting in firmly, especially since I have one patient tomorrow and the rest of the day free.

I woke up before the sun again this morning. At least this time, my alarm was set to 5:25am so it wasn't too much earlier, but I need to work through whatever shit in my head is waking me up so early. I did feel like I slept better last night, though. Maybe it's just lingering nervousness from my censure last week.

My 7am craniofacial lecture this morning was on the psychological implications of craniofacial deformities. Aside from the lecturer's voice being audibly nervous (which surprised me, since she's a clinical psychologist), there were several things which struck me despite my struggles to maintain consciousness.

I started thinking about my cousin John and the way he reacted to his illness, and even what I know is mostly inferred from second-hand reports of what he did and said. Depressing thoughts, especially when I'm already feeling tired and a lack of sleep.

Children with congenital disorders are often treated differently by their parents, even siblings - or maybe especially siblings. This rung true with my experience with Kevin and my parents; even my parents admit they treated us differently, with a greater focus on him. The other point that caught my attention was the development of health care anxiety in the kids that are constantly going from one doctor to another for team care of varying problems; I started wondering how much of that Kevin had. Fortunately for him, he was able to have most of his IVs done at home by the same few nurses, and was lucky enough to mostly just visit his pediatrician and immunologist without requiring extensive physical procedures and surgeries. Still, he did occasionally use his predicament as an excuse to lash out against something.

The lecture also mentioned something about kids not knowing how to cope with social problems. No shit. I sure didn't as a kid. Sometimes I still don't, although I think I tend to avoid the preprogrammed responses I see many of my peers make.

Matt was giving me shit about my phone being old today. I told him he's not the first, but planned obsolescence isn't justification for purchasing an unneeded replacement.

Fuck me.

This week is already the longest week ever, and the sun hasn't even come up on Tuesday morning. Fuck me, I don't know how I'm going to get work done.

Laugh out loud...

The best line in the book I'm reading - on Ryan K.'s suggestion - so far:

"You don't let me talk to any women again, of any size, at least until we get out of the Confederacy. These guys have all got guns down here. You promise?"

And it's nonfiction.

This old post has been on my mind the last several hours.

Seems like another wasted day; sometimes I think I think too much.

Sometimes I get so focused on avoiding the repetition of past mistakes/follies/blunders that I create whole new ones that are much more far-reaching than I could imagine. And sometimes I get so comfortable with myself that I lose control of the personality traits I'm not too proud of and get caught up short in multiple situations. I'm still sorting out whether those two sentences are related.

Katie told me she couldn't stand Phil and doesn't know what she's going to do if he comes back in the fall. I told her he just needed to get his radio on and he'd calm down - or something like that.

How come I always realize I'm starving right as I'm getting ready for bed. I had one slice of pizza for dinner. This glass of beer is my goodnight kiss.

I've been listening to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir at home, and the Broadways, Lawrence Arms, and Suicide Machines on the road. On the way home tonight, the Broadways' "Dropjaw" came on. Guess the opening lines...

I'm staring another busy week in the face

It's been a few days, no?

My week has been altogether awesome and shitty at the same time. Well, not at exactly the same time; there were altogether shitty moments and altogether awesome moments.

Awesome moments included a lot of hanging out with Laura G. Late night hang-outs, a fucking kickass dinner we cooked together - really, she did about 90% of the food preparation and kept me busy with other things - several hours of lazing abed, and, oh, the conversation. Very smitten with that girl, I am.

She was touched that I had fresh flowers for our dinner, and she loved the cheapo plastic vase I got at the grocery store four years ago for its character. Even when I pointed out that it was a cheapo plastic vase that I got at the grocery store four years ago, she said at least it wasn't some plain clear glass thing.

Dinner was fucking awesome. She even put together a menu.

I put candles all over my place - I'm out of candles now, by the way - and a lot of old ska, reggae, and soul songs on, and it really made my fucking day, especially since my day was pretty shitty until she came over.

I spent most of my day with her yesterday. She called me up to go get breakfast before I even got out of bed, and afterward we came back to my place for napping and just lazing around. It was a blast. She blows me away.

I was able to meet up with Phil last night. It was fucking great. Stories were told. Laughter was made. Musical discussions were had. Beer was drunk. He met my girlfriend. Seriously, I think he and I were riffing off each other all night long. Phil managed to both irritate and make friends with the WNUR kids. It took us almost 20 minutes of Fast n Loud to get to our second song...

Friday I went to a hardcore show in the basement of Humility Gallery in east Pilsen. None of the bands were that great, but the vibe and the energy were totally worth it. Punk rock is probably the only genre where attitude and energy can get you past the not great music mark. But fuck it was cold. My feet were almost numb from the concrete floor when I left. There was unmelted snow by the door, and a few of the bands were playing with gloves on. The kid working the door mentioned he'd seen me at shows a few times and actually called out my Broadways jacket (which I wasn't wearing that night).

I cut my hair for the first time in a few weeks. It feels good to be short again. I hope Laura G. still rubs it as much as she was yesterday.

Topping out as one of the shittier parts of my week, I was threatened with expulsion from my residency. I was given my first and only written warning for being "intentionally rude to a faculty member." I think my tone may have been off, but what I said was, "Dr. Grubb, let Shana finish." And as Dr. Grubb was rebuking me for my comment, Shana was mouthing, "Thank you," to me as she waited to resume her second case presentation of the day. She thanked me again later. So I don't feel guilty, especially since Dr. Grubb is a politician and egotist who'd already said some publicly demeaning things to and about me. So yeah, I could have said it more nicely, but when someone giving a presentation is thanking me for asking someone else to allow her to continue, I don't feel like I've done much wrong.

As it is, he still hasn't replied to the apology email I sent him, and I've written a much longer draft email reviewing some of the run-ins we've had - I'm going to have one of my classmates read it for tone, since I am definitely not being very objective about this. This episode has made me incredibly keyed up the last four days; I'm not sleeping well, and I'm running through a million bullshit scenarios that I know intellectually aren't going to pass, but good luck convincing my emotions of that. I go to bed feeling ecstatic and wake up with my mind telling me how I'm going to continue being insulted until I react and have my career derailed. I know it sounds ludicrous. It is. But I feel I'm walking very close to the line of what constitutes "unacceptable" behavior, and could easily lose my temper with him again...

Today's been particularly shitty. I woke up feeling like shit again, after sleeping five hours. I sat in bed and read The Lord of the Flies from beginning to end, which is not exactly a pick-me-up either. Anyway, by the time I rolled out of bed I had absolutely no drive to do anything, not eat, not read, not drink. The perfect activity would have been sitting by a fire watching things burn. I can pass hours that way, plus the dry heat is never unwelcome, especially in the winter. But since that wasn't available, I moped around with my brain spinning out scenarios of my career derailing and it started me onto a bit of a despondency. I'm wishing I spent more time bashfully resting my head on Laura G. when she was here yesterday.

Ryan K. and Laura W. have both expressed doubts as to whether it's a good idea for me to be so candid about my insecurities or feelings toward Laura G. since it's very possible she could be reading this after linking from my myspace page. I've considered whether or not it's a good idea myself, but I feel I've worked too long to be able to be this honest with myself to hold back. I don't want to feel I'm repressing something just because it may not place me in the most flattering light...and I have the confidence now that Laura will bring it up with me if there's something written here she doesn't feel good about.

Right now I'm staring another busy week in the face with no progress made on any of the work I'm letting pile up. I've got downloaded music from Lifetime, Bill Haley, and the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir to listen to, though. Who the fuck knows. Nothing's getting done tonight, that's for damn sure. Hopefully I can get some sleep. If not, hopefully it's because Laura decided to come over after work and we hang out until the early morning again.

Stress-Induced Emotional Paralysis

Laying here gripped by inertia
My chest caving in and I can't separate why
Bumbling my way through
What I thought would be so easy
Can't I disengage my mind and coast on through my experiences?
Thinking in terms of endpoints
Trying to refute the dynamic continuity of life
Wondering what I've fucked up and what I can set right
But still my inertia holds me
I fall asleep joyfully
And wake up with twisted guts
And rapidly racing thoughts
I want to escape from the world
And feel selfishly safe

Maybe "Shut up; I'll tell you later," will work.

A few things.

I rode my bike to school this morning, there being only 3-4 inches of snow on the ground. Stupid me, I turned off Ashland, which was relatively clear, and cut south on Paulina, which was a little bit of hard-pack in the tire tracks. Plenty of slipping and sliding, which would have been fun if I wasn't sweaty and late.


I rode my bike to school this morning, there being only 3-4 inches of snow on the ground. Stupid me, I didn't check the weather forecast in the last few days and didn't realize it was supposed to keep snowing for the next 32 hours. I lost my U-pass a few weeks ago, so if I took CTA home I'd have had to both pay and walk my bike in the snow a ways. Luckily, Ryan was able to give me a ride home in his Jeep.

I taught the dental students this afternoon. It was fun. I really enjoy teaching, and it's weird to have them looking at me as if I'm possessed of amazing skills in orthodontia. My, how the tables have turned.

I still haven't told my parents about Laura G. My dad just called to ask me out to dinner with them on Thursday, for his and my mother's day late Valentine's Day date. He also said I could invite someone to come with, and I answered with a noncommital, "I'll see." I think Laura will have to work, but I will ask her. How to explain to my parents? I dunno. Maybe "Shut up; I'll tell you later," will work. I have a pretty severe lack of emotional trust in my parents; I think I've been let down by their lack of support too many times in the past to risk relying on it any more.

I'm still somewhat reticent around Laura. I'm a little intimidated by her confidence and adventurousness. Two things I've never really felt strongly about myself. Don't get me wrong, I think they're great, they make her even more attractive. But I'm discovering I fear she'll find me unexciting and boring.

What the fuck is up with my insecurities? Whenever I'm able to strip away a layer of my shit, there's something new looking up at me. Is this normal?

I've been sharing her watermelon lip gloss, in the fun way.

I realize it's been a bit since I've posted anything, but I've been busy. Right now I'm fucking tired, too. I'm yawning about every fifteen seconds, so I probably won't write too much.

Thursday, Laura G. and I went to Twist for tapas and ate a shitload, drank a bottle of wine, and then headed over to Margie's for sundaes. We sat next to each other and talked and generally enjoyed contact with each other. We fell asleep on my couch until she had to go home.

Friday she ended up not having to work her second job, so we got some food and again fell asleep talking on the couch before she went home and I went to meet Laura W. for the show at the Note. Saturday we played phone tag all day and still managed to talk for over an hour during the course of multiple phone calls. On a related note, I had to get the text message add-on for my cell phone plan. (I still prefer real voices, though.)

Today we hung out all afternoon, even though a good portion of that involved napping again. We went up to Alicia's opening at the Charleston in Bucktown, and then to Swim Cafe for the Big Yes! Yes! Valentine's Day Show, which was pretty damn fun.

Those who know me well know that I'm rarely at a loss for conversation, but I still feel a little self-conscious around her. This is probably because she's much more outgoing than I've ever been, and because I don't want her to feel intimidated like I know other of my friends have felt around me as they got to know me. I'm getting better, though.

I suppose I should take a picture of her sometime so people can know what she looks like, but until then, suck on this, which has absolutely nothing to do with Laura G.

"Drive"

Posted to the bikewinter listserv:

hnk wrote:
> One last comment-- apparently this is "drive like an asshole" week-- I
> must have missed the announcement on the news or wherever

Due to the extreme popularity of the event, they stopped making the announcements and finally decided to simply make EVERY week "drive like an asshole" week. In a striking display of efficiency, they've renamed the now-daily event simply "drive."

I travel around like a sailing swan...

She knocks me down - in the Naked Raygun sense of the word.

No representin'.

One of the things that annoys me about these ass-freezingly cold winter days is when I'm wearing a great fucking shirt and no one else sees it. No one saw the Slackers shirt I wore today, and it looks good, even if it is a few years old. I couldn't represent. Oh, well. I did upset Shana last week with my "Idiot Son of an Asshole" shirt.

I actually got sweaty on my way home today. A new front fender got put on the bike, and I managed to get chain grease all over the white waffle-shirt I was wearing. It looks cool.

I told her I'd probably spend my night drinking beer and listening to music.

Rohini mentioned today that I looked sad; I told her I was feeling maudlin about my prospects for the evening. My date was postponed and I ended up writing - after reading the articles for - two of my reviews due on Thursday, although at the point I spoke with her I was still on the reading phase. I told her I'd probably spend my night drinking beer and listening to music.

I fell asleep on my arm for so long, there was an impression of my ear and stubble in the skin. It reminds me of the mesh impression of my shirt on Laura G.'s face when she got up to leave last Thursday. Thinking of her smile right now almost makes me want to cry, but I'm not sure from what.

The front fender of my bike broke off yesterday; it probably became too brittle from the cold. It snowed today, 2-3 inches. This means that when I came home at 8:45pm, many of the streets were slushy. Combined with the lack of a front fender, this demonstrated the potential to seriously dirty up my legs. Normally I wouldn't give a shit - stains are memories, after all - but I'm wearing nice enough pants for school. I rode home very slowly, and my MP3 player was giving me trouble - probably because I dropped it - so I had no tunes either. This all put me in a pretty bad mood.

I got home and checked the MP3 player; it seems to be working now, so no warrantee run (yet). That cheered me a bit. I heated up the filet mignon - steak and potatoes! - left over from Sunday, and opened the bottle of Three Floyds' Gumballhead Beer I've been eyeing since my trip to the liquor store Saturday evening. And it was good, and I felt better for the most part. I'd rather be taking Laura G. out for drinks like I was excited to do yesterday. Right now I'm spending my night drinking beer and listening to music.

Was it inevitable? I dunno.

I talked to Laura G.; she's going out of town on a retreat tomorrow, so our date got pushed back to Thursday.

Florists have been located. Fingers have been crossed.

Current forecast: ass-cold with a high probability of positive thinking.

I went out to dinner from school tonight, planning to return and grab my bag and shit and ride home, but we got back after the building had hit lock-down. Now, in the past I could always yank one of the doors open past the lock, but they recently replaced that door. Goddamnit! Ryan was nice enough to give me a ride home and pick me up in the morning in time for my 7am lecture, despite it being early for him. "It'll spur me to get some shit done," he said. Nice guy.

Tish Nihill asked me to see if I have any cases she can display on the OSCE exam she has to administer to the dental students, so I need to look into that tomorrow. I was able to get my hands on two of the three articles I need to review for Thursday.

Laura G. and I are supposed to get drinks tomorrow. Or rather, I offered to take her out for drinks, and she told me tomorrow is good. I have a (tiny) nagging suspicion that it'll turn out for nought, though, but I can hold out hope.

Since my bag and shit got left at school, I really have no work to do, even if I wanted to - and I never do at home. So really, nothing much changed, except I didn't have to freeze my snot on the way home tonight or tomorrow morning.

I'm feeling a bit tired, plus I had a 22oz margarita with dinner, so I think I'm gonna hit the shower and bed so I can be rested for my date tomorrow despite getting up an hour or more before dawn. But first check out this piece by David Rovics which was posted to the Chicago Critical Mass listserv.