My boyfriend and I decided to go on a nice innocent "little" bike ride this afternoon. Unfortunately, my boyfriend decided we should ride to the destination he goes to with his biking buddies, a place that just happens to be at a far corner of the galaxy...By the time we arrived to this destination, we were pretty much done biking. We relaxed and patted ourselves on the back for biking so far. There was just the small problem of getting back...Short of the humiliating experience of calling someone with an SUV or truck to pick us up, the only way we could think of was the ridiculous idea of biking back. At this point it was getting dark and cold and we no sooner began peddaling than thirty-mile an hour winds hit us like anti-gravity and made our traveling speed shrink to what felt like three miles per hour.

CUT TO: EXT. - BEACH BIKE PATH - NIGHT
A MAN AND WOMAN, DRESSED EACH IN A LIGHT SWEATER, BIKE IN THE BLACK OF NIGHT AGAINST A HOWLING WIND AND SAND STORM. BY THE EXPRESSION ON THE WOMAN'S FACE, IT IS CLEAR THAT SHE IS PEDALING AS HARD AS SHE CAN. HOWEVER, SHE SEEMS TO BE TRAVELING IN SLOW MOTION. HER TEETH CHATTER AND HER BROW IS FURROWED IN AN ANGRY EXPRESSION, AS IF SHE IS BLAMING HER BOYFRIEND FOR THIS AWFUL EXPERIENCE.

GOD DOESN'T REPLY. THIS IS NORMAL. SHE GETS BACK ON HER BIKE AND TRUDGES ALONG AS IF LIFE IS A BIG PAIN IN THE ASS

While this excursion was nothing short of a taste of hell, I was extremelygrateful to have a warm home to come back to.

Just for today, I accept the hells of my own creation.

My office organized a lovely office good-bye party with lots of cake and coke and I am now crashing from a sugar coma. When my friend Deraj gave me the official office going-away card filled with love and generosity, he announced to the group that the collected donation was intended for the latest "MT upgrade" for my blog. It was at this point that everyone looked at he and I as if we were speaking Polish. And that's when I realized that I have entered the inner-circle of web geekdom. So I explained to the group about blogs, and MT (Moveable Type), and evil spammers who delete blogs (which means "web log"), and how I need an upgrade so that people can comments (which is what people do with blogs), and then everyone nodded and smiled (because people like to understand where their hard earned dollars go to when they contribute to the office collection...having given blindly to many donations, I understand).

So, the point is...boy, I am a geek! The point is also, I get an MT upgrade! The point is also that it's nice to have an office good-bye party. Horay!

Just for today, life is bitter sweet.

I'm avoiding my therapist with excuses about shortages of cash when I'm really just so tired of the whole game. I sit there and talk about my feelings and emoticons towards Person X, and then she looks at me intently and says, "I really want to hear about Person X, but what I'd really like to know is...what are your feelings towards me."

And then I think, "Uh...,were we even talking about you? Are you that self-absorbed? Maybe I'm living in a parallel universe, but did you give birth to me and raise me till I was 18?" And then she gives me some speech about how if I work out my stuff it'll somehow carry over to the global dysfunction. And then I say, "Why you gittin' all up in my grill? You're just trying to make me see my own transference and what you really think is that I should break up with my boyfriend and move to Seattle!"

And then she looks at me like Tony Soprano on trial and says, "I never said that..."

Yeah, but that's what you meant, Bi-otch!

Just for today, I'm tired of therapy.

Relationship Status: Temporarily on hold.

Basically, as the dust settles and the dawn begins to emerge from the nuclear fall out and ash, what I am seeing is that I've been caught up in the web of trying to make another person see my point of view. Saying "ouch" or "that hurts" never really cut it in my family of origin. For reasons that I won't go into, whenever I was in physical or emotional pain logic was employed to talk me out of it..."Come on, it's only fire...." or "come on, there's nothing wrong with rabbit teeth..." And when that didn't work, irrationality was fully embraced with a sort of casual apology akin to that given to Iraqui citizens when the US military "accidentally" torches the wrong area of town..."Whoopsie...uh, gee that sucks. Hey, sorry about your house. What? Now you're mad? Geez, we said we were sorry...geez..."

Never underestimate the power of the mini-revolution that precedes the large scale ones. You can't tell me that Ghandi didn't get really pissed at some point. And you can't tell me he wasted his time explaining to people why some things made him happy and some things made him sad.

Just for today, I say enough is enough.

I'm sure my account is on Red Alert at Verizon Wireless. My relationship has been rocky with them as of late, due to some inconsistencies between what they say and what is printed on their little computer screens when I call back later. I know Brian and Gloria are just people working their jobs and are not corporate giants ready to manipulate and destroy me, but sometimes they do feel like Nazi pawns. I've basically haggled them to the point where I've created my own special cell phone plan for those customers willing to spend hours of their lives talking to supervisors and then apologizing for raising their voices. By the time I'm off the phone, I've had full relatioships with these people. They know more about me than most of my closest friends. And why do I spend all this time talking to faceless voices controlling my cell phone fate? Because the sun doesn't go down at 9:00 PM?!!! Nights, as far as I know, begin when it's been dark for at least two hours! If nobody else but me thinks that's crazy then go ahead and wait till 9:00 PM to make dinner plans!

Just for today, I have a cell phone plan that works.

What is Govindas, you ask? It sounds like chocolate, but no. Govindas is a yoga instructor whose real name is Ira. I guess Ira didn't quite sit well with the (now) Govindas. Ira isn't a name for a yoga guru connected with the divine. Ira is a science fiction addict who eats In n' Out french fries in the library. Govindas. Now there's a yoga guru.

Govindas helped me find a spot to lay out my mat where I could compare myself to everyone else in the class. Yes, I know that yoga is not about comparing my flexibility or muscle tone, or ability to find inner peace with anyone else in the class, BUT GET REAL GOVINDAS, THIS IS AMERICA AND I WANT TO WIN! So, I spent a good deal of time staring at the pretty ladies who could do the (INSERT YOGA SANSKRIT WORD) pose without wobbling as much as I do, and feeling like I lost the race to inner peace. The highlight came when Govindas came over and HELPED ME WITH MY POSE! I felt very special, like a cult member who has been chosen to have sex with the leader.

At the end Govindas sang a song and I went into either a deep meditation or sleep, I'm still not sure what it was.

I didn't find God at PowerYoga on second street in Santa Monica, but I did feel like an official resident of Los Angeles, now that I have adapted yet another LA cultural cliche (the first one was getting blond highlights streaked in my hair). I think culture is like air, you just breathe it and then it's inside of you.

Just for today, I like yoga.

Today is the day I'm going to try and find God (for lack of a better word...I actually associate words like "God" and "Freedom" with a deceitful, media-spinning, miliatary state, and body bags, but I don't really have time to make up new corny words for so we'll just pretend that "God" sits well with me)...

ANYWAY!...as you can see, I'm off to a pretty sad start. Finding God...hmmmm, small project really, after I sweep my hallway and stare at the bags under my eyes that emerged from a house guest who snored so loud it sent freight trucks through my REM (not the band, the state of mind that keeps me sane)...Anyway, now I'm sleep deprived, depressed, and I'm going to find God, so that I can leave my apartment.

So far, the only thing that I have found that resemble a "higher power" in my life (I'm going for corny and broke) are my good decisions; to exercise, put away my shoes and books, eat veges, say "please," and "thank-you." But that's not divine, that's like the common sense I was taught in Kindergarten. Maybe my Kindergarten teacher was secretly God?

It's getting kind of desperate now. The cynicism I am experiencing towards my life, my president, country, and building manager is wiping away the last vestiges of childhood faith like the tsunami. I'm worried that my common sense might drive me to ex-patriation (is that even a word?) or to lead a revolution. Shop or revolt? Find God or work on my photo album? As you can see, I'm really in a pinch and it's affecting everything. Because besides non-violence, kindness, respect and the right to say "no," I'm really feeling like an atheist.

Just for today, I appreciate anyone who hung in there with me... (thank you ;-)

Yesterday, I had meltdown No. 407. I felt sad and alienated and like I didn't have a soul in the world I could relate to. Everyone else is so busy with their careers, and their cute outfits, and the back-up on the 405...I knew I had hit a new low when I called MY MOTHER for support. Not that she can't be supportive, but calling my mother when I'm down is like writing about my meltdowns on my blog, they are both indications that I left my pride in 2004.

Just for today, I have no pride.

I'll be leaving my job at the end of the month and will begin the life of a free-lancer. Yesterday, I tested it out by taking the day off work to finish a freelance project. I discovered that time is relative when you stay home all day. So are the times when normal routine activities take place.

The times at which I...

...got out of bed: 11:00 AM
...ate breakfast: 2:30 PM
...began to "seriously" write: 4:00 PM
...brushed my teeth and took a shower: 6:00 PM
...spoke to a human being in person: 8:00 PM
...went to bed: 2:00 AM

Just for today, I welcome the life of a freelancer.

I decided to write in a coffee shop this morning because I wanted to christen my new computer with the computer cafe scene vibe. Anyway, I totally forgot that it was Sunday and that most cafe's are filled with people eating breakfast and talking. So while I pretended to write, I secretly listened to the riveting gossip that was, basically, being broadcasted right into my ear. Two women were eating next to me and one of them shared her fascinating life story; three marriages, Betty Ford, a few daughters, one sex-addict husband who slept with all her friends, and some scandal about him buying his Swiss girlfriend a Saab...wow, am I boring or what? She had the energy of someone who was facing her demons in a very public way (i.e., 12-step programs), and was comfortable with strangers listening to the way the chips of her life fell into a Las Vegas gutter. Her face was a little leathery and all, but she looked like she had lived, like her life might make a good CBS mini-drama. I felt very boring in comparison, my life story wouldn't make a good Dilbert panel. Still, chances are that I might be on a road to happiness....

Just for today, I'm grateful to be boring.

I know I'm a big drama queen, but all my fantasies about living in Seattle or anywhere north of Fresno (or anywhere with seasons, for that matter) are pretty much shot after enduring the last X amount of rain here in (once) sunny Los Angeles...But I am a big drama queen because as I was running in and out of my car this morning getting soaked (for some reason, my umbrella is always in the place I'm rushing to, i.e. house, car, etc.), I actually had illusions of "roughing it." Such grandiose thoughts were popped with a pin of guilt and self-loathing, when the young woman working the cash register at Baja Fresh told me that she walked two miles to work in the rain after taking the bus to drop off her six-month-old baby at the babysitter's house.

Just for today, I feel grateful for my car.

This morning I came to work with eyeliner only on my left eye, a stocking only on my right foot (so as to create symmetry of my craziness), and my hair in a half-blowed dry, half-wet unbrushed state (I'm banking on it settling down in waves but I'm scared to look in a mirror). The last two days I have stood idly by as my Trader Joe's burrito exploded in the office microwave. One time there were even people standing nearby who looked at me like I had just broken wind (such are the connotations of exploding burritos)...

It's my feeling that I am passed the age where dark circles under my eyes, no make-up and exploding burritos can pass as cute or carefree. As I am approaching 33, I feel that I am entering a dignified age without the appropriate dignity. What happend to my f---ing dignity!

It's really hard for me to worry about my petty little obsessions (must only nurture friendships with people who have Verizon Wireless...others can only talk to me on nights and weekends), when I'm reading about the 50,000 children who died in the tusanmis. Not to mention that my president needed three days of silent meditation before he could come up with the idea of (wow) giving aid! Australia, however, quelled the yapping about donations by really doling out the big bucks.

Just for today, I am grateful (and guilty) to be safe and living with my loved ones.

I just spent the last hour getting relationship advice from a sophomore in college whose maturity vastly outshines what I hope to have when I'm 65 (assuming I live that long). She said things like, "He needs to figure things out on his own," and "He's not ready for a commitment at this point in his life..." What? People have points in their lives? You mean life isn't a straight line of chronic frustration between birth and death? I remember being 20 and being way smarter than older people...I don't know what happened when I hit 30? It's like I became permanently 13.

I had to clam my mouth shut when she said that she was tired of being his mother because something like, "...well, get used to men, kiddo," was fighting it's way into the world. But she's too young for that kind of cyncism...in fact, so am I.

Just for today, I can learn from the oh, very young.

Nobody told me about the American tradition of jamming the CostCo parking lot on January 2nd.

Unfortunately, I had an unsuccessful shopping day where I wandered the aisles of TJ Maxx and fretted over my total lack of appetite for shopping and looking at stuff. What's happening to me? If I'm not a consumer, who am I? Will they still let me live in this country? It's like I don't know who I am anymore.

Just for today, I can lose my desire for shopping.