new year's resolutions

1. to stop being sick
Yes, I am sick AGAIN. What is wrong with me? I have done everything humanly possible that I know about and can deal with to try to kick this sinus thing. Does anyone have any suggestions for me? I am at my wit's end.
2. to keep knitting
Weirdly enough, after years of proclaiming myself the least crafty (as in doing crafts) person around, I've been taught to knit and am actually enjoying it. It is the first useful thing I have ever learned how to do. (you know, useful in a non-reading, computer-using, red-pen wielding kind of way).
3. to take a real vacation
You know, the kind with a beach. I've bought my ticket even and I'm going to Hawaii at the end of the month. If my weird sickness evaporates in Maui, I may be forced to conclude that I am allergic to New Mexico.
4. To clean my office
You would not believe the state of things in here right now. Unless you've ever been in here before, that is.
5. To clean my closet at home
Why do we hold onto things we don't use or need? If you know the answer, do tell.
6. To kick off SFR's city election coverage once the new year hits
Yes, it's that time again.
7. To have fun at Pachanga on New Year's Eve.
Where are you going? This event is going to be FUN.
8. To blog daily
Well, I normally do that actually, but the holidays and the ongoing sinus situation has kind of taken the wind out of my sails. So I'm renewing my commitment to you, dear reader(s). Plus, I want to update this blog's template with new links and such.
9. To stop being angry about my hat
See, I got this new hat that I LOVE and last night left it at St. Francis Hotel after I had a drink there. I went back, maybe an hour later, and the waitress said she'd found it and turned it in at the front desk. The person she turned it into claims to have left it on a desk. But no one can find it. Isn't this infuriating? I mean, if it got turned in, where is it? I will wait until Jan. 1 to stop being angry about this. Right now, I want my freaking hat back.
10. To think about the future
I know this sounds odd (or maybe it doesn't; I don't know how most people function) but I feel as though I'm so much in the here and now, in terms of trying to get everything done in work, life and such, that I can't remember the last time I stopped and thought about where I want to be five years from now. On the one hand, being in the here and now is kind of Zen and not worrying about the future is probably positive, particularly given what a worrywart neurotic I used to be. On the other hand, there's such a thing as too much here and now. You hear me, now?
OK, I'm going to go back to blowing my nose and rubbing my temples. Have a happy, happy New Year. My readers are few(ish), but you are all valued. Writing in this blog in 2005 has been a wonderful diversion, learning process, and I appreciate the feedback and support.

twas the night before xmas vacation

and it came down to one point
in just 2 1/2 hours
we'll be out of this joint
my whole staff was sick
and their coughs could be heard
as they struggled to choke out
just one more smart word
and all I could think
as I squinted at my screen
was: 6 days off? 6 days off?
this must be a dream
(I know screen doesn't rhythme with dream
give me a break; I've been living on coffee
and stale Xmas cake)
and though I'll be in SF
straight on through Xmas day
from work I will at least be set free
and never you worry
'cuz come January
I'm going to Hawaii
(I know free doesn't rhythme with Hawaii;
I'm an editor, not a poet, you know)
and the only thing missing
this holiday time
is a little 'ol Xmas snow.

OK, yes, it's almost over and, yes, I've lost my mind.
If I manage to stay away from this place for the next week, I'll blog you my holiday happenings upon my return. Or, if I get really fancy, I'll log in from my Sidekick.
Until then,
have a happy one and remember: there's no such thing as too many cookies.

ho ho ho

not quite done w/ the paper, but very, very close to getting into the holiday spirit. Or collapsing and having a nervous fit of some sort; it's hard to tell which.

end game

Some time in the last few years, I can't remember exactly when, I was in the pool room at the now-closed Paramount and my friend Emily, who was sitting next to my friend Darius, said she had resolved to have better end game and then noted that I was someone who had good end game.
I am always suspicious that someone is using a sports metaphor that I can't understand (am bitter over the whole sports metaphor thing because as a literary type (won't see what type) I should automatically understand all metaphors, but as a nonsportsy type, sports metaphors, of which there are many, go over my head. (Yes, I know, I've now used a triple paranthetical set up for this digression. In ice-skating, that's called a triple axis). (No it's not)), but in this case I think it just sounded like a sports metaphor ('cuz of the word game).
Ahem. Anyway, end game, as I recall, was a simple way of talking about following through, finishing up. Finishing what one starts, that is. And it's true. I've got a good end game. I've gots no choice in the matter most of the time.
So here we are on a Monday, approaching press run one of the double press run for the double 84 page issue. If you saw the tiny number of people who accomplish this paper year round you might feel less inclined to send me nasty letters (or maybe not. I don't seem to be the kind of person who prompts much sympathy from others for some reason).
My eyes are gritty. My bronchitis is, um, well, full bodied? Donalee and Kirsten dropped off freshly-baked cookies earlier. My friend Megan just got to town and a bunch of us are having dinner tonight although, I must confess, my appetite is at an all-time low.
My boss has apparently ordered air purifiers for the office; the hacking from the editorial chambers all through the house have been, it seems, noted.
I have four invitations for Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, all of them involve leaving my house. Is there any chance it's going to go up to the mid 60s in the next week?
My best friend Sonya comes in from Alaska on Wednesday to stay w/ me. Yay!
I have done no holiday shopping yet and there is a little bit that can't be avoided. That means I will have to enter a store somtime in the next 72 hours or so.
I don't like shopping.
Actually, although I'm not much for ranting against "the man" and "consumerism" I gotta say there's a whole lot of consumerism being pushed by the man these days.
I barely made it out of Target the other day and I was just trying to get some laundry detergent (came perilously close to buying, for no apparent reason, a lifetime supply of multicolored votive candles. You know, for that midnight mass I like to put on at my house).
Oh lord, here come more pages for me to read.

bye bye howard stern

When I was a teenager, in Philadelphia, my morning routine included listening, religiously, to Howard Stern. Even today, despite Stern's two decades of mostly focusing on T & A in his programming, I still remember him as this political, balls-out, morning talk show guy, who used to call up politicians on air and put them on the spot. I guess T & A was a better way for him to get famous (and pretty much when I stopped listening to him; not that I have anything against T & A, but I moved out here and there was no Howard Stern at that point, so...). So now he's off the regular radio and moving to Satellite. Sometimes, like when I read this story, I feel VERY AWARE of the passage of time. I mean, who listens to radio anymore? I mean, really listens to it? We are all plugged in to so much more technology now, ipods, streaming this, digital that and, obviously, I'm right there with the rest of the 21st century gadgetized culture. I love the technology; I like every new thing that comes along. I like to check it out, see if I can figure it out, utilize it. But there are these other days when I remember myself, 16 years old, listening to the radio and typing my sad teenage girl poems on my old typewriter and I feel... what is it? Nostalgic? I mean, it wasn't like it was that long ago in the scheme of things, although I was a teenager in the last century, I guess. It's more just how rapidly information technology has advanced that sort of blows my mind sometimes. Well, bye bye Howard Stern. Embrace progress as you have. What choice is there, really?

lost in space

The whole Virgin Galactic story is reminding me of the movie Total Recall. It just has such a futuristic/absurdistic quality to it and reminds me of the fake commercials Paul Verhoeven uses to such good effect in his movies.
Quite frankly, I might be the first in line to be ejected into space if they were up and running at the moment. It's probably quite quiet and peaceful. I wonder if there are deadlines in space?
The end is definitely in sight. If we can get this next 84 page issue out (which we started working on Wednesday morning, with a night's sleep in between the last issue and this one) I will, really, be off work for almost a week.
Of course, we are all dropping like flies around here. I've passed my hideous illness on to my department. It sounds like a TB ward in here.

suck suck suck

Spent the bulk of the weekend having bed sweats. Went back to ulti-med this a.m. Fever of 102. Still have an ear infection. Need another round of antibiotics.
Need 2 get out of here, go home and lie down. Wait, no, go home, get checkbook, get scripts filled, go home, take them, lie down. Something. Blech. This winter isn't going very well so far on the health front. Boy I am dating made me faux chicken soup last night. It was delicious. But I am still sick.
Went to SFR holiday party. It was fun, except for the fever I ran through the whole thing.
I just want to stop being sick!

tgif redux

Yes, the weekend beckons. It seems very long already. I actually don't feel super fantastic. Just called Ulti-med to see if they would refill my antihistime without me coming in. They said no and sounded a little suspicious. That's probably something meth addicts try to pull but, in this case, I just feel congested. I'll try to soldier through. I have no desire to go back to the doctor and I'm not taking anymore antibiotics. At least not this month.
Last night I went to hear Sun Volt which was OK. I wasn't blown away, which was odd as I usually love all live music. But, again, wasn't feeling totally up to snuff. I did really love Hundred Year Flood. I think they are just an amazing band and Felecia Ford has one of the most incredible female voices I've ever heard.
Tonight I'm going to see Syriana, which I've heard is really good but a bit confusing. Given my brain is firing at almost zero neurotransmitters per second (science girl!) I will probably fall asleep in it.
Tomorrow, the guy I'm dating has suggested we buy a Christmas tree.
Ahem. Tomorrow night is the SFR office party. This would be fun and relaxing, although I do have to go and buy the gifts for all the freelancers sometime before showing up, which means entering some kind of store a few weeks before Christmas.
I should get my nails done. They are a mess; I look like I've been working in a coal mine.
Today I went to a kind of ladies who lunch writing thing. Ladies who write and lunch thing, that is. Lots of great people there. Miriam Sagan, Sharon Niederman, Joan Loghe, Carol Moldaw. Sarah Lovett. It was really nice. I felt happy to be there. Less happy to have to bolt my food and run back here but, hey, this is the life I have chosen. I should stop complaining about it all the time (although I might have considerably less to say if I did; or maybe I'd just have different things to say).
Sunday was supposed to go to The Nutcracker w/ Jen & her twins but we couldn't get five seats together. I used to go to The Nutcracker every year practically when we were kids. At Lincoln Center, even. I had a priviledged childhood in many ways; there is no question. Culturally, for sure. And in other ways. I HAVE NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT. Is this some kind of instant-adulthood setting in? Is it love? Is it the early warning sign that I have another sinus infection? Why do I feel basically fine about everything? Today, Miriam and Sharon and Sarah, who have known me for so long it's getting a little silly, kept asking: "So everything's fine?" And I kept saying, "Yeah. I think it is fine." And then staring back at them with confusion as they stared at me waiting, I imagined, to hear some hint of the existential nauseau that usually marks any conversation with me. Maybe I'm just tired.
Or maybe all is well.
JOY TO THE WORLD.
Just kidding. I haven't gone that far over to the other side. And I'm sure by Monday some new evidence of the abysmality of the human condition will have manifested. My money, of late, is on some kind of garbage-bag scandal—I think it's the only type of scam that hasn't occured in government this year. And, you know, there's still a few weeks in 2005 left!
OK, have a great weekend. I'm going to try to do the same.

self-analysis

Why am I not writing this week? Is it because I'm busy? (Yes, but I'm so sick of hearing myself rationalize things I'm not doing by saying I'm busy it's ridiculous. Question to self: How busy can you be if you're not doing all these things you're supposed to be doing? Other people are just as busy. Stop saying you're busy). Is it because I'm cold? I AM cold. It's freaking freezing outside. I walked the dogs today in fleece pants over flannel pajamas, a wool sweater, a fleace jacket, scarf, gloves and hat. Walk is a slight exageration; I could barely move in all those clothes and the wind cut through my several layers still. Seriously, I'd live somewhere with a real economy if I wanted to deal with bad weather. Am I not writing because I have nothing to say? Au contraire. My brain is on overdrive. I have so many thoughts I can barely keep them in my head. But it's unclear if any of them are of any interest. I certainly don't think so.
Anyway, I'm amusing myself, in between retyping the winning entries from our writing contest for next week's issue (I am now a typist, apparently; or a secretary, since all I do, these days, is type and answer the phone. Which is fine, actually. I like doing clerical work to tell you the truth. It's a nasty little secret of mine) by creating a brief psychological quiz inside my head for, um, myself. OK, here's how it works. I ask you to choose between two things and you choose one. Then score yourself. GO!

Julia's Completely Random Santa Fe Personality Test

1. Albuquerque or Santa Fe?
2. Forest Fire or Drought?
3. Martini or Margarita?
4. American Spirits or Hand-rolled?
5. Villa Linda or DeVargas
6. Quesadilla or Chile Rellenos?
7. Bill Richardson or Gary Johnson?
8. Sex scandal or money scandal?
9. Police notes or obits?
10. Hummer or Hybrid.

1. Two points for SF; one for Albuquerque. Sorry my Duke-City friends. You got the cheaper stuff but we've got better views. Plus, really, if you chose Albuquerque in a Santa Fe personality test you are clearly self-destructive. Actually, give yourself another point just for being bold.
2. One point for Forest Fire; two points for drought. I don't know why. These aren't actually different things. I should have said Drought or Monsoon. But anyone who chooses drought over a monsoon is so scary I don't even want to know about it.
3. Two points for Martini; Three points for Margarita. Because they are less pretentious, that's why.
4. Two points for American Spirits; One point for handrolled. Handrolled makes me think of wet rolling papers. Wet with saliva. Blech.
5. Two points for DeVargas; none for Villa Linda—mostly because it's now called Santa Fe Place which is not, really, very creative. Although it does have Santa Fe in the name. Now, let's think about this, shall we? The downtown mall (downtown seeming to be more Anglofied and ritzy than the southside) still has a mall with a Hispanic name. The former Villa Linda, on th south end where so many of us natives and nonnatives reside, now has an Anglo name. Give yourself an extra point just for reading this pointless and truncated analysis of, for God's sake, the malls in town.
6. Two points for Quesadilla; one for Chile Relleno. Because it seems like it has less cheese, although maybe that's just a cheese illusion. Certainly the relleno is more fattening, what with the deep fry and all.
7. Zero points. I'm kind of sick of politicians right now.
8. Two points for sex; one for money. Why aren't there more local sex scandals? It's all tire stealing and money laundering around here.
9. One point for police notes; two for obits. Everyone reads the police notes. Dare to be different, I say. You can have an extra point if you have been in the police notes anytime in the last month. If you have been in the obits, however, you should really call for a correction.
10. Two points for Hybrid and none for Hummer, you gas-guzzling money-exhibitionist freaks.

16-20 points: You are a certain kinda fun-loving, occasionally kvetching, Santa Fean. You're going to the Sunvolt show tonight and stopping by Whole Foods on the way home from work.
12-15: You've lived here about five years and there are days when you go home, burn my paper in your Kiva fireplace and wonder aloud: Why God, why?
Less than 12: You order your chile on the side at Tomasitas and write anonymous letters to the newspapers. You are counting the minutes until you can get out of this three Starbucks town.

Let it be known; I may not have added up the points very well. Back in the day I always test-scored high on verbal, low on math. I don't think it's that I'm bad at math. I'm just impatient.

I had a fun birthday

thanks y'all for hanging with me in the bowling alley.