"Do You Blog?"

Today I was asked the question, "Do You Blog?"

With the advent of current social media, I suppose that we *all* blog in some way, shape or form. Maybe it's limited to 140 characters in a twitter feed, or a couple of lines in a Facebook update, or, if you're feeling particularly verbose, an actual honest-to-God blog update.

So...the answer was, "Not recently." And tomorrow? The answer would be "Sort of." I suppose it's a step in the right direction.

What Color Do I Feel?

While desperately attempting to avoid doing any real work, I caught up on my pal Emily's blog, I stumbled upon her entry that had a personality profile quiz. I love quizzes because I want life to be as easy as "Do you like me? Check a box, yes or no."

This had a simple quiz - although "game" is probably a better word, but then that would imply some sort of skill. I digress. You're supposed to simply click the box of the color that you feel most "in harmony" with. You continue to click them until there are no more left. Then seconds later, you get a personality profile. Here's mine, I think it's actually kind of accurate.

Name: Leah
Date: 10/13/2009
Colorgenics Number: 15207634

You have always longed for tenderness, love and a sensitivity of feeling into which you would like to blend. You are a very gentle warm person and responsive to 'All things bright and beautiful'. This personifies a caring person, a person who 'needs' and indeed 'needs to be needed'.

You are a fighter and always on the defensive. You always need to be sure that your position is safe and established. When you finally make a decision you will pursue it to the bitter end in spite of all opposition.

There are times of everyone's life when 'compromise' is the name of the game and this is the time, so you have no alternative but to forgo some pleasures for the time being. You are capable of achieving satisfaction through physical activity.

All of the stress and strains resulting from disappointment have led to agitation and anxiety. You have been going out of your way to make a good impression, but you have reservations as to the likelihood of succeeding. You feel that you have a right to accomplish all that you set your mind on but you have become helpless and distressed when circumstances have gone against you. The idea of failure is most upsetting and this can even mean utter dejection. You see yourself as a scapegoat and you feel everyone in your sphere of influence has tried to take undue advantage of you. You are trying to convince yourself that your failure to achieve standing and recognition is not of your making but indeed of those around you.

Since in the recent past all of your hopes and aspirations have been denied you, you are now convinced that the future will hold nothing but anxiety so therefore 'why bother?' You would love to get away from it all, to escape from the trials and tribulations of this mundane existence and fall into a peaceful and harmonious relationship, which will protect you from the lack of appreciation and give you the chance to start afresh.

Want to see your own personality? Take the quiz/game/exercise in hand-eye coordination here.

To Blog, Perchance to Dream

I fully admit that I have been neglecting my Blog. I apologize. It's just that writing and me have kind of an abusive relationship. He wants to, and I don't. It's as simple as that.

But today, I discovered that my friend Jen had a blog called "Live Yer Damn Life Already". From the title, you can tell that it's not your regular blog, but a blog encouraging people to write. Ultimately, it's to write a book, which I don't want to do, but it made me realize that there's a little tiny leprechaun in me that wants to write. Damn him/her.

I've been bogged down by thinking about content, length, contribution...but in this day and age, I have to realize that my blogs can be anything that's too long to fit on Twitter and Facebook, but as "important."

Please stay tuned.

I'm in a New York State of Mind

New York City is a dream. And a bit of a nightmare. It taught me the reality of the phrase “It’s a great place to visit, I wouldn’t want to live there.*” The asterisk is because everyone SHOULD live there at least once in their life...while they can.

Let me qualify that last statement. There are two kinds of people who can live in New York. One is the young, freewheeling type – who are game for anything and think that NYC is an amazing experience. I don’t blame them; I was there once myself. The other is the rich people – who don’t have to think about how much it costs to actually live there!

I started out my life in New York City as the first type of person that I mentioned. I was about a year out of college and had been to NYC a few times on business. The city was...intoxicating...intense...inviting...and all sorts of adjectives that start with a vowel. I was offered a job in NYC, asked a friend to help me find an apartment in NY, and took the first apartment that I saw (I saw two that day). The night I left Maryland to move to New York, my brother offered to buy me a gun. “Just in case.” I declined to take him up on his offer.

I loved New York. The city is everything that you ever hoped it would be. And more. Everything is accessible by public transportation. You can find anything within a three-block walk. There is SO MUCH to do. The city has a “jazz” or a “vibe” that is palpable. I have yet to have met someone who has been to NYC and hasn’t been caught up in that vibe. There’s something about New York that makes you want to stay up and out all night (although in the interest of full disclosure, I have only done that ONCE) and overindulge (“I can just take a cab home”). It’s almost like the city is challenging you. “How little sleep can you go without?”

After a couple of weeks of living in the City that Never Sleeps, you start to learn about the reality of the situation. My typical phrase is “It’s a really tough city to live in.” Unfortunately, the only people who understand that are people who have LIVED there, and learned how tough it is. It’s like a drug. Or an intense-but-bound-to-flame-out relationship. Because technically, it’s both.

You get sucked in by the power of the city. You let it take you over. Before you even know it, you’re hooked. You’re living life minute-to-minute – a “New York Minute,” if you will. It’s addictive for awhile. Makes you feel good. Strong. Powerful. Unstoppable. You need more. Then eventually, you realize, New York is not there for you. You need IT more than it needs you. You chase the dragon. How can you get that same buzz of the city that you got when you first went there? The answer is, you can’t. You can’t recapture it, and honestly...you can’t afford it. Face it, the honeymoon is over. You’re stuck. So, you have two choices. Become a “Slave of New York” (thank you, Tama Janowitz) or formulate an exit plan.

For me, the city got to be too much. People can be intense. The living conditions can be a bit intolerable on a long-term basis. I lived by myself, but my walls and carpet were brown, I had one window (with an air conditioner in it) and I lived next to a parking garage where I could hear the door open and close 24 hours a day. I eventually found comfort in the metallic whir at 3:15am. Others I know had to live with roommate(s). Not advised for the over-23 crowd, especially with the cramped living conditions. I have a suitcase at home that could be rented for $1500/month in New York. Trust me on this one.

Eventually you turn on the locals. The local Chinese place doesn’t deliver fast enough. The local bodega doesn’t get the New York Times early enough. The subway by your apartment is unreliable. The grocery store doesn’t carry the brand of coffee that you like. It’s like realizing that the little quirk that your significant other had at the beginning of your relationship that was so adorable, is now just plain obnoxious. It’s time to bail.

I lucked out. The company I was working for had a position open in the LA office and I went for it. And haven’t looked back. Well, not really.

I miss my friends in New York. The people there are spectacular, amazing and passionate. And the last time I was back in NYC, I had that same thought cross my mind...the same one that I had cross my mind years ago. “I could live here.” The older and wiser person in me laughs and shrugs it off. But that eternal optimist says “But what if....”

What if, indeed.

Right to a Slice

Ah...the mix tape. Such a sentimental old-school practice. A mix tape could symbolize the beginning of a relationship, the end of one, to mark a vacation, to celebrate a word, or for no reason at all. This particular mix tape has a more interesting story behind it.

Many years ago – I would have to say almost twenty five or twenty six at this point – I used to work at a record store in the Georgetown section of Washington, DC. The store closed at midnight every night, so after work, we would head a few blocks away to the best place to be – a club called Poseur’s. We’d dance the night away until closing time.

One particular Friday or Saturday night, Lisa and Tony met me after work and we had one of our typical nights...until we left. We were driving up Canal Road to get to the Beltway so I could drop them off in Rockville on the way back to my home in Bowie. Right out of Georgetown, we came across an accident. A car had careened off the road and into a tree. The driver was alive, but definitely hurt. His friends had been following behind him and had also pulled over to the side of the road, as did we. We recognized them – they had also been at Poseur’s that night. The driver was freaked out and all he could think about was the fact that he had a “piece” in his car (a handgun) and asked for it to be removed from the car and hidden somewhere in the forest so that he could come and retrieve it at a later point. We all waited for the ambulance to arrive and kept talking to the driver and his friends, to make sure they all stayed calm and conscious. The ambulance took him away – several broken bones, if I remember correctly. Somehow, we ended up either driving one of the passengers home, or following their car home – I’m a little sketchy on those details. When we got to their house, the friend pulled a mix tape out of his car and handed it to me, to thank us for being “so cool.” Printed on the Maxell label were the words “RIGHT TO A SLICE”. We listened to the tape that night and thought it was the coolest tape ever.

The tape ended up in my possession and I found it yesterday. I immediately popped it into the cassette player (yes, I still have one) to see what was on it.


And here is the tracklisting. Remember, it was the 80s!!

SIDE A:
1. Some instrumental song with a man with a cockney accent giving directions...”Take Bay Walker Road to Notting Hill Gate...third left around Marble Arch...left again at the bottom of Park Lane...”
2. Some other weird bizarre instrumental.
3. Another instrumental. I write the word “Sorta” next to the tracklisting. (By now I am wondering why this tape has held such a spell over me for all of these years.)
4. Kim Wilde “Can You Hear It”
5. The Smiths “What Difference Does it Make”
6. The Specials “Ghost Town”
7. Lene Lovich “Bird Song”
8. Psychedelic Furs “Heaven”
9. Expression “With Closed Eyes”
10. Talk Talk “Such a Shame”
11. Simple Minds “I Couldn’t Sleep a Wink Last Night”
12. Ministry “The Light Pours Out of me”

SIDE B:
1. Bram Tchaikovsky “Girl of My Dreams”
2. Lyrics are: “I’ve got a secret, I wish I could tell you, I’ve got a secret, you.” I have googled the hell out of this and cannot come up with the artist/title!
3. The Jam “That’s Entertainment”
4. Another song that google is failing me on...lyrics contain “color shades...beating hearts...cheating hearts...”
5. Thompson Twins “No Peace for the Wicked”
6. Language “Touch the Radio Dance”
7. X “We’re Having Much More Fun”
8. Oingo Boingo “Grey Matter”
9. The Surburbs “Love is the Law”
10. Blancmange “That’s Love That it is”
11. The Cure “The Walk”
12. And of course the tape ends with another song that I can’t figure out the title/artist of...and the quality of the tape is so crappy that I can’t barely make out the words...all I have is “flowers they hope they grow...”

Any help that anyone has to help with filling in the holes, especially on Side B, is appreciated.

Ultimately, I think the tape is better in memory than reality. But then again, sometimes isn't life?

Welcome to the Doll House

The LA Derby Doll House, that is. Yup, I’m talkin’ Roller Derby! All-Female Roller Derby!

I was introduced to this culture by my friend Phil, who became a little obsessed with Roller Derby some time in the last year. He’s made it his one-man mission to recruit as many of his friends as possible. Last month, I grumpily accepted his invitation to attend the bout. I had no idea what to expect.

The LA Derby Dolls have their very own roller rink, located downtown, right near Temple and Alvarado. The event was sold out, so we arrived about an hour early to secure our space in the grandstand. I took a wander through the midway – the place where the vendors set up their wares (anything from cookies and pizza to t-shirts, jewelry and crafts) and the band (!) plays during intermission and after the bout. I felt like an alien that had just be dropped into Lollapalooza years ago and wandered around like a little lost deer in the headlights of life. I had no idea that this scene existed...and being attended by a thousand people every month!

I watched the girls warm up on the rink while clutching my program, desperately trying to understand the rules of the game. Joy had tried to explain it to me earlier, utilizing straws to represent skaters. Between the straws and reading the program, I still had no idea how it worked. However, there’s nothing like the actual game to learn pretty quickly! I went from not knowing a thing about Roller Derby to two hours later being able to make comments such as, “No wonder we couldn’t score any points, our jammer couldn’t get past their defenders” and “Good move! She called the jam off!”

Last month, I saw the San Diego Swarm take on the LA Varsity Brawlers. It was a brutal game...and I’m not just talking about the action on the track! The Swarm swarmed all over the Brawlers. Not pretty. But alas, I think I was hooked.

So when the call went out for recruits to the March 28 battle, I was in. The Swarm would be playing again, this time up against LA’s Fight Crew. Phil got a new recruit for the event, Shannon, who joined Joy, Vanessa and me for the big night. She showed up at our meeting place and the first thing I noticed was her choice of footwear - heels. Before my first bout, a few important details were left out by my Derby Dealer. I accosted Shannon, “Did anyone tell you that you’re going to be STANDING all night, right?” While I was leading with the news, I threw in “And you have to pee in a porta-potty.” Two things I wish I had been told...not unmanageable obstacles if adequately prepared.

I had definitely been in Shannon’s shoes before. Well, not her high heels, but not knowing what to expect. Not knowing the rules of the game. And clearly not knowing what was in store. By now, I was a professional. I knew which line to get in. I knew to put a finger on my wrist when they went to “band” me, so that it wouldn’t get too tight. I knew to try and get a spot pretty high up so that we could get a good view of the track. After we found our space, I took Shannon down to the midway. It wasn’t as big as it was last time, so she missed out on some of the cool merch opportunities. But that didn’t lessen her enjoyment at all. All of us soaked it all in. The warm up. The dueling mascots (Giant Bee in a Mexican wrestling mask for the Swarm, and a Lobster for the Fight Crew). The selling of raffle tickets. The great music playing from the DJ. The people watching. The debate about pizza vs. hot dog on a stick. Cookies vs. a banana. These are not easy decisions, people!

Another great part of Roller Derby are the names of the players... Broadzilla, Judy Gloom, Janis Choplin, Tae Kwon Ho, and Mickispeedia play for two of the LA teams...the San Diego team does just as well...with PT Bruiser, Sarkastika and Slamurai. Even the referees and officials are in on it. My favorite was: Thomas Refferson, who wore a tri-cornered hat. A fun game to play during the downtime of the games is to come up with fun Roller Derby names. I decided on “Skatie Holmes” and Joy is trying to decide between “Sioux Sidal” and “Fell-Ani Assault”. Also during the downtime of games, the mascots run around the outside of the track, whipping the crowd into a frenzy, throwing out trinkets. Joy got a flyswatter and a man in a giant lobster suit threw me a beer koozie. Where else but in LA? Of course Phil was there to make jokes about the mascot, “If I was butter, I’d be all over that guy!”

And oh yes...the bout itself. Well, the Fight Crew turned out to be much more formidable opponents for the Swarm than the Varsity Brawlers and the game was at least a game! Unfortunately, in the end, the Swarm left the Fight Crew with a nasty sting. But for two hours, we cheered, hooted, hollered, yelled, stamped our feet, and just really enjoyed ourselves.

So...next bout...April 18th...the Varsity Brawlers vs. the Sirens. Who’s with us??

Jam on!


p.s. As they don't allow cameras into the rink (wahhh!), you'll have to visit the Derby Dolls website to see photos of the girls, the rink and more....all I have is this photo of my koozie.

TSA, Tsk, Tsk

Dear Transportation Security Administration of Sea-Tac Airport:

Thanks so much for your lovely note. I also wanted to thank you for your failure to re-zip up my suitcase after you so lovingly opened it and fished around for whatever items you felt were clearly in violation of the TSA laws...was it a book? Some CDs? A pair of socks covered in dog fur? Hot rollers?

Lastly, I would like to thank you for not returning my TSA lock. Obviously, it was just standing in the way between you and my tiny bottle of shampoo.

Best regards,


Another TSAtisfied Customer