When I don't feel well, everything in my life looks worse. If it's already sucky, then I'm in trouble. I refer to my current condition as Sinus Hell, though, I'm sure there is probably a more official sounding name written in some medical journals...actually, I don't know what it is, but at this point in life, I blame everything on my sinuses. Menstrual cramps? It's my sinuses. Ingrown toe nail? My sinuses. Sad state of my love life? Sinuses. I would also blame my sinuses on my bad childhood and the state of world affairs, but I think there's a chicken and egg thing going on there...

So, last night, after laying my sinus-infection-ridden body down to sleeep, my smoke detector decided to go schizo at 1:00 am in the morning. After stacking books on a step ladder, I took it out. Twenty minutes later, the other one went off. There's something about the piercing sound of smoke detectors randomly going off when you're not feeling well that makes you wonder if God gets off on all His power (Ok, I don't really believe in that kind of God...but I can't think straight when I'm in sinus delirium). I would make a joke about how vulnerable my apartment is to fire and smoke (seeing as it has no functioning detectors), but I'm too superstitious...

On Friday night I accepted Relentless' offer to come over and have a piece of the cake he had just baked. I was bored and lonely, and thus, susceptible to two things he could provide 1) cake and 2) male attention. When I arrived, I entered an apartment that felt like it has leaped straight out of the Pottery Barn catalogue. Spotless. Immaculately decorated.

I know, I know...Baking? Clean, nicely decorated apartment? Great. My one suitor is a closeted homosexual. Damn sinuses.

Just for today, I'm not happy.

I just went over to Young Director of Technology's (is there any other kind?) cube, stuck my empty container of Easy Mac over the wall and asked:

"Why did you tell me it was OK to eat this?"

The wall of the cube reaches my eyeballs so whenever I talk to him, he can only see my eyes (which say it all). Usually, I'm in Professional Stress Case Mode and frantically discussing the State of Fucked-upness (S.O.F) of web sites that are possessed by Evil Code (I'm not naming names). While he stares at his two monitors, I try to guess his answers by his expression of panic ("yes, I know we're fucked!"), or his distracted stare ("I've got more important shit to do" )...he likes to swear when appropriate (always).

"I told you it was toxic sludge," he said while staying focused on his code, or database, or whatever the hell he does.

Granted, it was my choice to open mouth and contaminate my digestive system with radioactive cardboard packaged as noodles and cheese in non-microwavable materials (the container came out of the microwave kind of melted), but he is still the one who claimed that it was at least tasty toxic sludge.

Lately, Evil Flash Programmer has accused me of having a relationship with The Wall next to my cube. I guess he caught me staring at it while thinking of the S.O.F. of my life. He means it literally, whereas, I'm way too English Major-y to not read wedding-cake layers of metaphorical interpretations (Damn, you again Evil Flash Programmer!)...He likes to play dumb, but he knows all about the Brick Walls in my life.

Speaking of Brick Walls, Relentless has lost all interest in me ever since I dared him to take me on a real date. No surprise here, as he is a Salsero. That was the point of suggesting it. Shake him up, make things different. It's not really fun being pursued when the chase is an end in itself. It's like living in a television sit-com. Once everyone sleeps with each other, the shows going to get canceled, anyway. Not that I was ever planning on sleeping with Relentless...I lost interest in that the moment he opened his mouth (and the words "Will you sleep with me?" came out). Ever since then it's been one long, albeit entertaining, road to relationship nowhere....

WARNING: Profound television-like summary of lessons learned:

1) Read the contents of the package.
2) Take responsibility for your choices.
3) Choose cubes over walls.

Just for today, I can find lessons in life.

A few weeks ago I watched "The Secret" and decided that my problem is that I have lived as if I exist in a community with other people. I thought I gave myself enough "me" time, but apparently I need a "me" life. According to "The Secret" (shhhh...it's really "The Power of Positive Thinking" repackaged, but don't tell anyone) I need to view my life as a "catalogue" in which I can order up experiences in my own personalized amusement park (can you tell that I'm being facetious?).

I know people like Oprah subscribe to the "Ask and Receive" philosophy of "The Secret," and, clearly, Oprah has received quite a bit in her life and because she has had to struggle as an African American woman, it is a huge accomplishment. However, the fact remains that were I stranded on a deserted island with my last container of red vines and cup of Peete's coffee...would I really want to break bread (or red vine) with her? Would I want to hang out with her? Can anyone hang out with her? Does she "hang out" when not televised with famous people and impoverished African girls? The point is does Oprah have good relationships? Does "The Secret" really have any insight into creating good relationships in a complicated human world...which is really much more interesting and meaningful to me than a necklace.

Most likely, I would give her some red vines and coffee and ask her to go to the other side of the island where she could talk to the crabs, sea gulls, and her own idolized volleyball about how to make an exfoliant out of crushed sea shells...(believe it or not, I actually like Oprah).

THE POINT IS: Good relationships, in my experience, require more than one party. And, while I know there are "healthy" and "unhealthy" people, I do live in a planet filled with EVERYONE (at least I think I do...maybe I just imagined these billions of people in my own life "catalogue") Am I justified in ignoring the sick, homeless, and persecuted because their vibe is bringing me down (so conveninent)? Can I just order up a experience with another complicated human person without their participation...(unless I hypnotize or drug them...both viable options).

Another annoying thing: "The Secret" espouses the Law of Attraction...but what about the fact that electrons repel each other, opposites attract, Murphy's Law runs my life, and Irony...where would Alanis Morisette be if she practiced "The Secret's" philosophy...?!!!!!

I'm getting very boring.

Just for today, I can criticize The Secret.

Salsa Guru and Evil Flash Programmer are competing for the My Favorite Person Award. Don't feel bad if you're not in the running as the honor seems to require the recipient to possess some sort of anti-social traits guaranteed to annoy the unsuspecting, well-adjusted person. However, since I am not unsuspecting, nor well-adjusted, every time I have a prolonged conversation with either of them, I am forever changed. That is the sign of a special relationship.

Last night Salsa Guru told me that while my salsa dancing has greatly improved, it could stand to be "angrier." Putting aside the fact that I'm not sure what Angry Salsa looks like, I found it an interesting comment because he's about the tenth person in recent years to suggest that I Express My Anger. The irony of this feedback is that it is often given by the same people who would be on the receiving end of my would-be wrath (I'm picturing some Greek God with thunderbolts...). Were I to follow through on their suggestion, chances are they would either have a cow-like tantrum (shaming me to silence) or wilt like abandoned puppies, thus, causing me to feel like the Princess of Darkness. Bound by Chains of Guilt and Fear, I have found it best to communicate via Stuart Smalley-style "I feel, when you..." verbiage with all the power and intimidation of Elmo.

Since my relationship with Salsa Guru is based on a mutual understanding that neither one of us is trying to snow the other with weird manipulations, I trust his feedback. Actually, he later qualified his original statement by saying that "angry" is not the right word. According to SG (I'm too tired to write out his name), it's more about coping an aggressive "salsa attitude" (for more edu-macation, read blog below). Salsa Guru wears a red bandana with a cap to express his personal 'tude. While I'm kind of into the idea of Angry Empowered Salsa, I think the average club is way too hot and crowded for a leather jacket and a Harley...(sigh)...I need a life.

Just for today, I can find ways to express my anger.

According to my friend, Salsa World, as we call it, is a playground for single people with rhythm. It probably goes without saying that it's also the playground for your run-of-the-mill Salsero Player (pronounced "playa"). But I'm going to say it anyway.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. I have many, many, wonderful Salsero dance partners (not all Latino) who I enjoy on the dance floor, but who would hardly make a suitable date in the 'secular world' (as Jewish Salsera calls it). Trust me, I've tried. In a single night I've been told I'm loved and adored by multiple guys who claim to be willing to do anything to spend time with me. Lunch date? Maybe next week...they seem to get busy when it comes to things like daylight and prolonged conversation about life, goals, vital statistics...so boring. What's the point? Why get personal when you've got a Salsa World filled with scantily clad women performing sexual moves...?

Don't get me wrong, not all Salsero men are so flagrantly predatorial and Salsa, while being a creative expression of sexuality, is not necessarily a place to find easy sex. For one thing, the Seasoned Salsera knows the deal and is not easy. By 12th grade, did you really want to date anyone in your class?. Any girl/woman who has developed some mastery of Salsa has survived her fair share of the onslaught of male sexual attention/aggression and she's so over it. As a rule, the best shot a stymied Salsero has at gettin' some play is from the fresh crop of women coming out of the Beginner dance classes. Wide-eyed and intoxicated by the magic and sensuality of salsa, perhaps rebounding from a bad relationship (or maybe that was just me), or just plain bored, beginner dancers will find a slew of charming, friendly men, great dancers, even picky ones, who are more than happy to "teach" them how to dance. Usually, these relationships are akin to any student/teacher relationship sullied by the mutual desire to exploit (sex/learn salsa). The relationship progresses or deteriorates to the extent that such needs are satisfied or not. Egos blow up and deflate. People move on...hey, it's Salsa World...

However, for the experienced, and technically astute Salsera, the chances of having a more mutual, higher quality relationship with a Salsero are far greater, if only on the dance floor. A true Salsera isn't really there to be hit on. She has far better things to do. Salsa is the ultimate Godess sport. In her element, the true Salsera not only knows, but feels that her true power and her beauty come from within. While dancing she's in touch with her deepest sense of herself in the most natural and authentic way.

Only Relentless types (they could be seasoned or they could be beginners) are really going to have the patience to pursue a skilled Salsera and convince her that they aren't like "all the other guys who all say they aren't like all the other guys, even though they are" (Relentless Salsero; 06/21/07).

Not that she cares. She's too focused on dancing. When it's good, it's better than sex. And you don't have to stress about diseases or changing partners.

Just for today, I am a Salsera.

Whenever Salsa Guru bestows a dance upon my "off-beat" self he often tells me that my main problem is that I lack Patience. With all his talent and experience, Salsa Guru is very comfortable standing in judgement of other dancers. In exchange for his mentorship and everything he has taught me, I tolerate his personality, and so our relationship survives. Still, as much as I hate to admit that a 25-year-old has mastered some aspect of the maturity, I have to say that he's right. I'm not patient with salsa and I'm not patient with life. For all his youth, the guy dances with the patience of Yoda pulling the space ship out of the swamp. What I have come to learn is that annoying people usually speak the truth (that's why they're annoying).

Relentless Salsero ("Relentless" for short) left a message on my voice mail last week identifying himself as "Your Future Husband." Ten years ago, I would have gotten chills (just being honest here). Today, I don't put anything past Latino men (just being honest here, again). Still, I admire his persistence and I think I could stand to have some more of that - albeit, directed to more worthy pursuits than getting someone into bed 9he says he wants to marry me, but I'm old enough to identify *#%@ when I hear it...).

Just for today, I can appreciate the qualities of the Salseros in my life.

I got a pedicure on Friday and, as usual, I assumed my pedicurist was chattering on in Vietnamese about my scary feet (for all I know she's talking about her own scary feet...but when you're self-absorbed you assume it's always about you). I always tip well when I get a pedicure because when it comes to my toes I know those ladies are workin'. It was a job before salsa, but now...fugitaboutit. I'll put it this way, one toe nail came off completely while I was sitting in the chair (actually, I pulled it off, but only because I knew she wouldn't...). As usual, it was a bonding experience that ended in a hug...

On Saturday night I experienced yet another wardrobe malfunction. I know it's very unladylike of me not to be bothered with things like tags and full-on bra cup making a showing...but...geez, I guess I just get too busy dancing.

Between the scary feet and wardrobe issues, I have to admit, I have serious issues in Maintenance 101. Was I just born this way?

Just for today, I accept my difficulties with beauty and image maintenance (which sucks when you live in LA).