Oh. My. God. My dancing is horrendous! I have the routine pretty much down but holy shit. I look like a drowning woman flailing my arms in distress. And of course, just as I get all the steps memorized, teach introduces a new routine. And I thought my old moves were bad. The new ones? Wtf?

You know, in the beginning– the way beginning– I was optimistic about hip hop. Now? Screw it. I’m doomed. I was so tired after today’s class, by the time I got home (like five minutes later), I’d totally forgotten the new routine. I remembered the first four steps and after that, total blank. No fucking clue. Not even a smidgen of an inkling. Lame.

And when she showed us the new choreography, there was this, well, I would describe it like a fencing or sword fighting-type of motion. So she was doing it, and everyone was following along and then, teach saw me in the mirror and the women stopped what she was doing and started laughing. Yes! I’m that bad! And the girl next to me had to stop because she was cracking up at me too. So embarrassing. Jesus. How many more sessions are left? Countdown to the end of my weekly humiliation. Gotta make it to mid June. Unbelievable. And to think I even considered enrolling in the summer sessions… way in over my head.

The crappy thing is, if I limit my activities to things I’m good at, that leaves rollerblading and um rollerblading. Yeah, I was ok at bouldering and horseback riding, but those activities are too damn involved. Too many props. Man, I’m screwed.

Oh well, at least I burned off the ice cream and challah bread from earlier today.

Btw, I need to get me some decent sweatpants. I don’t know what it is, but I look like a total schlump in my class. And I’m actually one of the more fit people in there. Tina says my gray sweatpants are way too big: she says they make me look like a fiddle. So tonight I wore my shorts instead, but those turned out to be too damn short, especially when we were bending over doing warm-ups. Ugh. I know, I have issues! Need to take care of this shit before next class. Btw, the class is no longer a safe haven for women. Some dude started coming. The only relief I get out of it is that he moves even more stiffly than I, so at least I’m not TOTAL bottom of the barrel. 🙂

I did hit the local Target tonight for the sweatpants. Who knew this would be such a goddamn chore? Nuthin’ at Target. Not a damn thing. I did manage to try on six non-athletic garments, but they all looked like crap. I nearly walked out of there empty-handed but then I got sucked into the Mother’s Days cards. Papyrus has some beautiful, decorative ones but holy shit: $7 a card! And yes, I bought three of them (one for Noorie James). Well I figure if I’m not going to buy gifts, I might as well splurge on kickass cards. Hate all that mushy language though. Thankfully the ones I bought keep things short and simple.

Damn I’m tired. I’m certainly not one to complain (yeah right) but jesus, sometimes I just feel so fatigued. I returned to the office on Monday fresh after our trip to Maryland, but I felt really stressed– a bit overwhelmed even. Granted, before I left, my boss said he didn’t think there was anything pressing (great… how’s that for job security) but still: I’d been out practically all last week, and my todo list didn’t shrink much.

Then I was a little concerned about how I’d mark the time on my timecard. Was it bereavement? Could I use sick time? Would I have to eat into my vacation (I prefer to stockpile)? All these questions, and then we just got a new general manager so there was some tension associated with that. I know, my boss is as easy as they come, so I really need to just chill with this self-imposed stress. Fortunately, I’m making good progress this week, and in fact today, much to my surprise, HR said I could mark 24 regular hours (paid) for bereavement plus take the remaining 8 hours as sick. What a sympathetic, nice policy. See? Government isn’t all bad, especially not here in Cali. Hehe.

The weather’s been super windy lately. John and I had our third therapy session last night. I swear, I am so irked at the beginning of our sessions. You see, her office building locks after 7pm, so either the previous client is supposed to let us in on her way out (NEVER happens) or we’re supposed to call. So we always arrive right on time, but whenever I call, I go straight to her voice mail. So fucking annoying. Meanwhile, we’re freezing our asses off in gale-force winds. I know, manage the anger, manage the anger. Still. Pisses the shit out of me. Then, I tried to get her to move up our appointment so the doors will still be unlocked when we go, but she’s booked. Fuckin’ A. Well I guess my employee assistance program benefits only cover another three sessions, so either we’ll be done soon (I think we got all our issues resolved now; it’s just a matter of implementing ;)) or I’ll have to suffer through the annoyance another three times. Can you tell I’m so much more patient now? Anyway, Linda seems fairly knowledgeable and book-smart. She teaches me things I don’t know like about the parent, adult, and child that’s supposedly in every person. I appreciate that she is candid and asks tough questions. But I don’t know. The session seems to move so slowly. I want info and solutions– stat!

This week John and I are supposed to compile our list of tasks and then identify/assign the “essentials.” And then I’m supposed to let go of the nonessentials. Whatever. To me, “letting go” just means I’ll do it because really, there’s no reason why it can’t all be completed, especially since we do not have kids. Sigh. The uneven distribution of household labor– when is this ever going to STOP being an issue with couples?

Thank goodness tomorrow is dance class. I hope the teach kicks my ass into gear. I need to sweat all this negative energy out. Regain some bounce. After all, the weekend’s right around the corner and my buddy Pamela is coming to visit next Thursday! Chop, chop. Got to get the house cleaned up.

A couple weeks ago, I skipped hip hop class to check out Odd Couple at the adorable Broadway West Theater. It was a fun night out with Tina and my Fremont peeps, plus I finally got to meet Joe’s woman, Jessica. He’d been yammering on and on about her (remember the Salad Years when everything was so perfect and lovely through those rose-colored glasses?), so it was nice to finally meet Miss Perfect (that’s what John calls her). Unfortunately, I didn’t get to chat with her for long, but she seemed sweet and smart and beautiful… all the things Joe said she was. So cute.

So the following week, I went to dance class. I kept adequate pace since I’d memorized all the steps up to the new ones… but my god, I really suck. I mean, seriously. And to think I used to do ballet and Chinese dance? There isn’t an ounce of cred to my movements. I keep eyeing the teach, watching her every step but my body just does not funk like that, you know? So frustrating. I mean, yes it’s entertaining and I can’t help but laugh, but at the same time, it’s pissing off the OCD side of me. So first there was the wobbly knees-crab movement– two steps to the right, two steps to the left coupled with this hand around the back of the head motion. Then the following week, it was robocop or whatever she calls it: this rocking motion. Shit. I need to download tutorials on YouTube or something. Last time we also did this step thingy with the stomping and slapping but damn… the bottom line is that I really suck. Sigh. How many more classes are left?

John and I are back in Maryland this week. My dear friend’s father passed away… mother and daughter are doing ok, as well as could be expected. His health had declined rapidly in recent years but as with all the other times, we’d expected him to pull through. The funeral was really touching. So many people spoke: they told such vivid and humorous stories. One of his kidney transplant patients even drove down from New Jersey. God. Medicine just touches people in such a profound way. Patients, healthcare… people complain about how it’s turned to shit, shuffling patients through like cattle and wading through all the paperwork but frankly, I don’t think there’s any profession (in its purest form) nobler than practicing medicine.

Boy does life get complicated. This last month’s been all about “big boy stuff,” as Bubbey terms it. Over the last several weeks, he and I had gotten into some really bad fights: same old shit but I guess the drama finally reached a tipping point. We’re in couples counseling now. Say what? I know, right? And I mention it here publicly, because I’m not ashamed to admit we’re seeing a therapist. Fortunately, we’re not to the point of divorce court (yet!) or anything that dire, but apparently we both have “anger management issues.” Yeah, when the therapist gave her initial assessment, I immediately questioned her competency. And actually, John and I both docked off points. I mean hello, was she even listening to us? Anger management is not an issue… there’s no physical violence in the house.

To her credit, she explained, “Anger management isn’t just rage: it’s frustration, impatience, resentment, irritation, annoyance, giving the silent treatment…” Oh, well in that case, hell yeah, we have anger management issues! In fact, I’ve had it my whole damn life then!

So we started seeing Linda three weeks ago… we meet once a week, and then afterwards we have a “date night.” And let me tell you, apparently everyone else is already in on the secret about “date night.” Wtf? Yeah, a friend mentioned having hers on Wednesdays and then two coworkers said they did it too… I suppose we totally missed the boat on that one… Turns out, date night is kinda helpful, because it forces us to connect in a new environment (the therapist suggested trying new restaurants) free from the distractions of home.

During our last counseling session, Linda gave us this anger questionnaire about how our parents handled anger when we were growing up. When I told her I got spanked a lot, she had this child services look of horror on her face. I mean, in retrospect, I totally deserved it. I was a stubborn-ass, unapologetic brat and most times I opted for the belt rather than an apology for my stinging words. Spanking is old school, but I think it’s fine. Then again, I guess it’s a moot point: barren womb forever. So whatever, therapy is working out ok. I’m learning new tools. Guess we’ll be master communicators after this.

Hi folks. I know, my blogging has really trailed off. Lately, or in the year rather, writing has moved to the back burner. Sometimes I just feel like I don’t have the stories I used to. After all, San Mateo is no Shanghai…

Plus, with the job, the extracurricular activities, and Bubbey, there’s just too much other shit going on.

I had my 6-month review on Friday. It was pretty much the same as my 3-month, which is good. I’ve been pretty happy with my contributions to openspace.org (yeah, check it out!). Web work is so stimulating; there are always new tools to learn and try. And just so many people doing amazing shit. Have you heard of mobile activism? The Center for Biological Diversity has this really clever way of building their email/mobile list and of expanding their marketing outreach: endangered species ringtones. Have not yet downloaded my polar bear ringtone (no data service so I have to download then transfer via USB or whatever), but I’m thinking work may just have to hop on the mobile activism bandwagon. Yes, I’m a total poseur.

In other news, my brief trip to New Orleans triggered a new hobby. Late at night, John and I stumbled across America’s Best Dance Crew on MTV. Yes, I was up all frickin’ night watching the marathon. The show is similar to the American Idol (blah!) variety of programs (it is produced or whatever by Randy Jackson) but I gotta say, I’ve always had a fascination with synchronized ANYTHING, be it swimming, step, the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders (years ago they had a reality show on TNT). Anyway, I was amazed watching these peeps move. So the next day, I resolved to look into dance class. Yup. Ready for this? Hip Hop class. I know, are you on the floor laughing?

There is something about being over 30. You know how when you’re a kid (like under 10), you have this invincibility about you? Then you hit the teenage/adolescent years and all that goes to hell. You think middle school is going to fucking be the end of you… Well I’m finally over that shit. And now it’s like, if I wanna take hip hop, I’m gonna take it. Ok, I wasn’t that confident about it… but I was motivated enough to look up dance classes through San Mateo County Parks and Rec. Would you fucking believe that alongside tap and salsa and the waltz, they offer hip hop? So I signed up.

To be honest, I was really nervous about the first class. I mean, the max class size was 50 people!! And were they going to be a bunch of young, cool punks? I had no idea what to expect, but my god, boy was I pleasantly surprised. All around my age. All different shapes and sizes. All levels of fitness. Thank fucking god. I mean, I do still have a tad bit of competitiveness in me, so I didn’t want to be rock bottom. Understandable.

Anyway, the class is awesome. And such the workout. I haven’t sweat like that in ages. Sure, my moves suck. They are totally stiff and android-like. But I just watch the teacher and try to identify her secrets to fluid movement. That, and I try my damnedest to remember all the fucking steps. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. And one…

Whenever I switch to watching myself in the mirror, I just crack up. Cannot help it. Need to just keep my eyes on the teach.

Still, to my credit, I’m actually keeping up with the steps. It’s the movements I need to hone. So it’s a fun new project. It’s works all kinds of new muscles (mostly on the torso). Teach says we can have a performance at the end of our 12 weeks if we want. I think we should wait and see. Just like I obsessed over my Board presentation, I practice A LOT in the privacy of my own home. John tries to give feedback, but what does he know about dance? All he can do is say yea or nay. At least he’s getting some entertainment value out of this. And he’s happy that now he can listen to hip hop when we’re in the car together. Man, I actually have to load that shit to the mp3 player so I can review the moves in my head on the drive into work.

As tourists, John and I had a rather superficial experience of New Orleans. With the French Quarter as our playground, we saw little evidence of Katrina’s destruction. In fact, the downtown area weathered the storm mostly unscathed, suffering only wind damage (according to our airport cabbie).

We noticed lots of vacant rental spaces, but we were told business had been in a slump well before the hurricane. On our visit, shops and restaurants seemed bustling with activity. And Bourbon Street was the same insane debauchery I had remembered from a decade ago.

On our last day, the cabbie drove us through a very nice suburban neighborhood not far from the airport. The homes were beautiful, all-brick structures but two years after the storm, this area still awaited electricity. Watermarks on columns under the overpass showed water levels as high as 7 feet. The water had remained at this level for 6-7 weeks. While the homes were magnificent on the outside, their insides required complete gutting. After being underwater for six weeks, everything had to go– furniture, appliances, utility lines, everything.

Obviously, rebuilding takes time. The sad news is, it’s taking longer than it should. At the conference, we met some of the amazing people credited with helping the community move forward. Among the online resources that have sprouted are Louisiana Rebuilds and NENA (Neighborhood Empowerment Network Association). I hope you’ll consider making a donation.

John and I are in New Orleans… I attended the Nonprofit Technology Conference this week. What a wonderful event. I so love the nonprofit community– these peeps have so much heart. So the conference was cool. Lots of people doing amazing stuff using very cheap or free tools. Saw really moving and engaging videos from Oxfam and Amnesty; powerful email campaigns from Care, and awesome mapping of demographic and CDC data from the Lucile Packard Foundation. Crazy. There is so much to learn.

The keynote speaker was David Pogue from the New York Times. The guy was hilarious: he played all these videos he’s made for his tech column (starring him and his wife). Also, the end of his talk was the best. Apparently, he used to be a conductor for Broadway shows, so they pulled out the baby grand and he started jamming these two jingles, including one ragging on the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America). OMG, was frickin’ cool.

Now I have a ton of new tools to check out: GrandCentral, Google 411, Miro, voice to text services… can’t wait to play around after I get home. In the meantime, I’m stuffing my face with the phenomenal Cajun/Creole foods of Noo Aw’lins. So rich and hearty. Too bad the two pounds I dropped last week are back on (and then some). Oh well, gotta indulge while I can.

Head back on Sunday. Yeah, jet setters like that. 😉

I can’t sleep… this evening we learned that our friend is recovering from drug addiction. We’d been out of touch with him and his wife for several months (they live back east). Just five years ago, they were a happy couple attending our wedding. They married a year or two after us, sent copies of their wedding pictures to us in Shanghai, and I swear it was only a year or two ago when everything seemed great.

Good people with hearts of gold. There was so much patience and thoughtfulness and love in the few simple and quiet gestures I witnessed. They were building a life together, a home. They worked, attended classes: there was a plan.

And then this happened. First it was cocaine, then crack. Depleted shared savings. Theft, break-ins, arrests. In the months following, he went in and out of rehab. He’s been clean for two months. That’s the good news.

But now, so many questions, so much uncertainty. I crumbled when I heard the news. How? Why? God damn this world. God fucking damn it.

Earlier this month, the office staff attended a 2-day workshop on “Influencing Skills.” John jokes that people at my small government agency never actually get shit done. We just hold meetings or attend conferences or trainings or whatever. Pshaw, he’s one to talk. His company holds scavenger hunts and posh “team building” events and then their “business dinners” in Asia consist of getting clients shit faced at strip joints. I should also mention that at the holiday part, a freaking Board member offered $100 cash to the first person to drink the most shots at the bar. Whatev. At least my shit is still professional. For realz.

Anyhow, the training was so-so. Apparently, I’ve been communicating all wrong in my personal life. That could explain the growing-shrinking rift over the last two years. My poor communication skills and/or his workaholic schedule and unreliable promises to be home “normal time.” I suppose like most relationships, ours is a work in progress. Still, in most matters, I’m happy. Work and friends compensate for the sometimes on-off disconnect at home. So honestly, I don’t know if I’m convinced about the skills training. I don’t necessarily agree with the suggested approach. Sounds too much like running a business. Then again, sometimes I’m just rather resistant to personal change. I like how I am. 🙂

John turned 32 this month. For his birthday, I got him a couple really cute stuffed orangutans. That’s our thing now. And we adopted (co-sponsored) a baby orangutan on Orangutan Island. Kesi’s not on the tv show; she’s just a baby. Poor girl got her hand chopped off with a machete. And the fuckers killed her mother. She’s doing well now though at the Center. She’s a super star student, and Orangutan Outreach assembles really cute updates and photos. A nice touch for an NGO. I’m always collecting data points and ideas.

What else. Last weekend, John and I headed into downtown Palo Alto for dinner. Afterwards, we caught the some street performances by two college acapella groups. Totally reminded me of Duke: study breaks at the cafe or on the quad. The guys’ group was rockin’. Midnight Ramblers from the University of Rochester. They were having so much fun– smilin’, groovin’, singing their hearts out. By comparison, the Stanford women’s group was well, lame and lifeless. We left after the guys wrapped up. They put on a great show right under the Borders overhang on University Ave. Something else to research now: local acapella groups.

Regarding my previous post… I spoke way too soon. In the last two weeks, Power Pill’s been crushed to a very fine powder. Let’s see. First, I got sick. Granted, something is still going around the office (and certainly several peeps fell ill for multiple days) but still, obviously, I’m not as tough as I’d thought. Second, I started seeing a chiropractor, partly because I wanted to start using my medical flex spending account but more so because I was getting sick of the android comments. Plus, it would be nice to regain full range of neck motion, right?

My chiro seems good, but then again, I’m a newbie. He could probably hack me up real well, and I still would not even know. I mean, a crack here, a snap there, a jerk there… who the hell really knows what’s going on? Ah well. Blind faith in the medical community…

I do feel some improvement immediately following my visits. The unfortunate thing is though, as soon as I go to bed and awake the next morning, my neck is back to its good ‘ol fucked up self. I’ve tried pillows under the knees, pillows between the knees, sleeping on my side, etc. I’m still trying to break the code.

Of course sleeping on crunchy, formerly dog piss-saturated carpet last weekend didn’t help. John and I were in the OC visiting my sisters-in-law. Susan gave us an air mattress, but it was half-deflated and with my back issues, I opted for the floor. Needless to say, we had crap sleep for two nights. I’m getting too damn old for such slumber party-esque discomfort. Gotta have my Westin bed.

But going back to the chiro… I’ve been focusing hard on improving my posture. Yes, I have re-evaluated my worksplace ergonomic settings and also put an end to internet surfing on the couch. And I walk around like a bonafide prude with a straight back, shoulders back (no slouching!), and surely something stuck up my ass. I’m sure I look totally uptight, but hey, at this point, my body is shutting down and I need to take drastic measures.

In other words, I think I’m getting the shingles again. I know, how is this frickin’ possible? The first time (October 2006) was already an anomaly. After all, shingles mostly affects old people. I’m 31. I can’t believe I may be victimized again. Fucking A.

You see, several weeks ago I developed this rash on my right ribcage. I didn’t think much of it, but the itchiness has persisted. On top of that, I’ve been feeling a bit achy lately… I was previously attributing the discomfort to my neck/back chiro issue but maybe that’s not it. I don’t know. Last time I saw the chiro, he said my traps and upper mid back were the tightest since he first started seeing me in early February. He kept asking me if I was a really high-strung person, if I was under tremendous stress. I was like, uh to be honest, I’m the least stressed I’ve ever been in my life. Honesty, I have no idea what this could be. He looked at me like I was lying. Little does he know, I don’t (can’t) lie.

So now I’m curious and borderline paranoid. What the fuck is going on with my body? Are these manifestations of stress that accumulated over the years? It’s not as if I’m an EMT or ER physician or snow crab fisherman. Wtf? Meanwhile, my knee is starting to itch… fuck man. Shingles twice? I’m calling the derm first thing tomorrow. This ain’t right. I’m 31. Not cool. Gotta figure this mystery out.

Anyway, back to our trip down south. Sorry, for getting off track… Best part was meeting up with my dear friend Pamela. She and the hubby recently moved back to the States from Shanghai (where we met). They’ve only been back a few months, but they appear amazingly well-adjusted to American suburban life. Seeing Pamela was awesome and somewhat therapeutic… it was as if no time had passed. Kindred spirits indeed.

She and Joey took me out for Peruvian food (very tasty… reminded me a bit of Thai actually) and then all of us watched Oscars night and played Taboo. Good times. See, no stress? So why shingles again, why? Ok, maybe I’m jumping the gun. Will know more once I get this shit checked.