• TheBoyfriend™ and I are thinking about getting a membership to the Y and meeting up during the day at lunch to work out. The membership prices are kinda steep, but we just recently got rid of cable TV which cost more than a Y membership. On the other hand, we got rid of cable, largely to save money. Aside from the money, the downsides are that the only time we cold really do it together is during lunchtime. To get a good work out in at lunch I’d probably need to bump my lunch break to 2 hours which I’m fortunate enough to be able to do, but it would mean that on workout days (which would be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday) I’d need to work until 6 instead of getting off at 5. I hate getting home from work and feeling that my evenings already gone, and alot of times an hour can be enough to do that to you. Working out at separate times isn’t really an option, because I’m all to well aware that if I had to motivate myself to do it alone, the membership would go to waste, because I’d never go. Even if I could get motivated to do it, I probably wouldn’t because it’s not really safe to work out alone anyways, and especially when you have no idea what your doing.

  Of course, that brings up the first of the pluses. TheBoyfriend™ used to teach a body-sculpting course at a gym when he lived out in Arizona, so I’d be getting “professional” instruction without having to hire a personal trainer. It’d also mean that TheBoyfriend™ and I would get to spend more time together. Since he took his new job, his hours are largely scheduled per his clients availability. Since his clients are school-aged kids, that means he doesn’t head off to work until about 2 hours before I get home, and typically doesn’t arrive back home til 8 or 9 at night (at least during the school year). We get to spend Tuesday and Thursday nights (when we take our jiu-jitsu class), Saturday evenings (he usually works Sat morning through early afternoon), and most Sundays together, but it would be nice to have a little more time on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays too. Also, having a 2 hour break in which I do something physical may well make the work day go by faster despite tacking an hour on to the end of it. Taking a big break like that kinda makes the day feel like two short days instead of one long day. Last but not least, I’d be getting a healthier (and sexier) me, and a healthier (and sexier) boyfriend. Of course, we’ve got to make the decision and actually do it and we “decided” to get rid of cable about 3 months before we actually did it so we’ll see…

• I think I’m going to officially endorse Barrack Obama for President. The more I think think about, I’ve realized he probably fits my ideal policy positions at least as well as any other candidate running (which is to say not all that well), and the country really needs someone who can somewhat bridge the increasingly deep and wide split in the political population. Now I don’t buy into the notion that there ever was some “united country,” but I think it’s not so much that the gap has gotten deeper, but wider. I’ve read a few people saying “what exactly has Obama done to earn him this ‘uniter’ image.” I guess I’d have to say he probably hasn’t done much of anything, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve heard numerous conservatives say either they wouldn’t mind it too bad if he was president or that they might even vote for him depending on who wins the GOP nomination (at which point I tend to think, ‘have you even looked at what his positions are on the issues??’). It likely comes down to the fact that he’s young and charismatic, and that might not be enough to hold together this perception of a uniter once he’s actually in office, but I’d say his chances of being a uniter are infinitely better than, say, Clinton’s.

• I was thinking the other day: When did my life get so busy? Not more than a year ago, I regularly thought I’d die of boredom. Now I have to stop and remember to breathe every once in awhile. Last weekend, two parties to attend then Monday - I finished a website I was working as a freelance project, last night - jiu-jitsu, tonight - a chiropractor appointment, tomorrow night jiu-jitsu, Friday - get my car inspected (a day late, oops, by the time I called it was their earliest time slot), then Saturday - another party that i don’t know much about and didn’t even know existed until last weekend (TheBoyfriend™ agreed to go without letting me know). I think I like being busy better than being bored, but some days I’m not so sure.

Ok, so now that I’ve typed it, I guess any one of those could have been its own post. Oh well.

I’m not afraid of “heights” per se. I can ride a good rollercoaster up to the very tip top of it’s first hill and feel just fine, so long as I can feel the restraints holding me into the car. No problems with flying, and I can peer straight down (or as close to it as possible) from my (sealed) 10th story office window. Yet in instances in which falling is “possible” however unlikely, the fear can be crippling. I cannot approach a railing even a single story off the ground. What’s worse is that when I simply see others leaning against (or sitting on, oy!!) such a railing, or standing nonchalantly near a deep drop, I get physically nauseous and weak in the knees.

Last fall, several friends, TheBoyfriend™ and I decided to hike to the top of a local mountain. I think I was expecting the top to round and tree-covered, and at least marginally like normal ground with great views through breaks in the trees. I had no idea that the reality was the tip of this mountain was rock and fairly small. No trees to block either the gorgeous view out, or the not so gorgeous view down. We reached the top and somehow (I think out of fear looking like a scared child) I managed to follow them up to the very peak which involved walking a stone “staircase” no more than 2 ft wide with a rock wall on oneside and nothing on the other except a very long drop down (I’m still quite proud of my self for making it up there though). Upon reaching the top, the immediate words out of my mouth were, “OK, I’ve seen it, I’m going back down.” The look on my face must have been quite the sight because TheBoyfriend™ insisted on walking me back down despite my assurance that’d I was ok, and he could stay and enjoy the view. Going down was much worse than going up, because if you wanted to watch your step, which was obviously important, you had to look down. We made it about halfway (from the peak to the wider area of the top, not halfway down the mountain) where there was a little indention in the rock wall just big enough for me and TheBoyfriend™ to sit (we couldnt’ stand in it, it was too small). I wedged myself into the little hole and sat waiting to hopefully gain enough courage to get myself the rest of the way down. Silly as it sounds I swear for a moment I thought, “I’m not going to be able to make myself stand back up so I’m going to die here.”

Finally, I was able to get up and we walked back down to the wider part of the top of the mountains. We sat there together with TheBoyfriend™ likely thinking I was nuts but politely sitting there with me despite my protestations that I didn’t want to ruin his trip and I was fine for him to go up and sit at the top with our friends (despite the fact that the reality is I’m glad he stayed there with me because I honestly was feeling light-headed and panicky). It was fairly miserable because every direction I looked there was somebody casually walking along the edge of some cliff, making me freak out while trying my best to appear to just be casually sitting there taking in the view (as far from any edge as possible). I distinctly remember there being a mother sitting there rocking her baby on a rock that sharply dropped off on the other side. She was mostly safe as I’d guess there was a good four feet between her and the edge, but I still couldn’t even look in her direction.

So to Aunt B. I say,”You’re no more crazy than me.” I’ll leave it to you to decide if that is comforting or not.

It really wasn’t that bad (no dents or anything), she offered to pay for any repair costs, and making her feel bad wouldn’t have accomplished anything (except that it’d have made ME feel bad to have made her feel bad), so I made it out to be no big deal. BUT inside I wanted to cry. I look at this car like it’s my first (though technically it’s not). I drove the old Tercel I had from high school for ages, but it was never technically my car because my parents had purchased it (though from the beginning it was purchased for me) and never gotten around to actually putting it my name. When that “broke down” (actually it wasn’t in bad shape and for a reasonable price I probably could have gotten it fixed, but I was really sick of that car), I did get a Neon (which was technically MY first car), but I only had that for a several months because as the winter months moved it, it was discovered that the little flap that either opens to allow heat into the car or closes to keep it out was broken and in the closed position (meaning no heat). A simple problem, but an expensive one if only because reaching it required removing the entire dash from the car, and about the same time this problem showed itself, my current car showed up on the lot. I was able to sell the Neon for only $200 less than I purchased it for, despite the heating problem which was fully disclosed to the buyer (they were buying it as a starter car for their daughter’s high school graduation, and I heard that she totaled it a week after receiving it). But that gave me all the money I needed to get my Camry.

Now, it’s not new (it’s a ‘98), but I love that car (and actually I much prefer the body style of my Camry to the newer ones). It’s got a sunroof, wood-grain interior, leather seats, a two-tone paint job and even it’s power locks and windows were a big deal to me when I got it as those were not a feature of the old Tercel nor the Neon. It’s sporty enough to be “hip” and yet mature enough not to make me look like a spoiled frat boy.

Anyways, despite all the mourning, I looked at it in the light this morning and it doesn’t look to bad. I was able to get most of the apparent “damage” off last night with a wet wash cloth. Yet there still is one long but shallow scratch that I think I can buff out on my own and a couple of small digs into the paint that I’ll probably have to pay to have fixed. Anybody know how much it usually costs to get smaller scratches repaired?

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For one, he was young. I think that has a little to do with it. It’s not pleasant to hear that anyone has died, but when it comes to something feeling like a “tragedy,” 28 beats 82. Younger deaths can leave a feeling of “missing out.” Certainly that’s true with Heath, whose career, despite being notable on it’s own, was really just beginning. They also remind us that tomorrow isn’t promised for anybody. For some of us that is scary because it reminds us of our own mortality. For other because it reminds us of the mortality of loved ones (whom we wouldn’t want to live without?).

Tragic as a young death is, there’s more to it than that. Would the death of 26 year old Brittany Spears stirred as much sadness? It perhaps would stir up more talk, but I suspect alot of that would revolve around crass jokes about her passing, and even mournful posts would likely mourn less about her death and more about the life that led her there. Heath wasn’t a “bad boy.” We tend to not mind as much when a “bad boy (or girl)” dies because it’s easy for us to, for lack of a better word, “blame” them. It’s a self-defense mechanism and the same things that causes some folks to blame victims of rape. We like to think, “That couldn’t happen to me, because I don’t live that way.” While the details of his death aren’t 100% clear in this case, it doesn’t ultimately matter. The perception that most have of Heath Ledger is that he more or less had his life together. He wasn’t a Hollywood wild child (at least not to my knowledge). He performed in his films, flashed a smile at various events, but more or less kept himself out of the lime-light.

On the other hand, if suspicions about a drug over-dose pan out, and in amounts that cast doubts on his family’s assertion that his death was accidental, then the most likely explanation is suicide (I don’t really know for sure, but I’ve never heard of sleeping medications as a recreational drug). Perhaps that even worse than seeing a “good boy” just accidentally die because it’s a grim reminder that nobody has it “all together” and even those that seem happy and well-adjusted might be struggling with some monstrous demons right below that smiling exterior.

Of course, lest my dime-store variety psychology (take it or leave it) makes it sound as if I think the reaction to Ledger’s death has more to do with everyone else than it does with Heath himself, let me add this: Heath was one of the few great young actors out there. Modern Hollywood is full of pretty faces with mediocre talent. Heath Ledger was not one of those. We’ve lost a rare talent and we’ve lost the future characters that could have been brought so vibrantly to life by that talent. That’s worth mourning in and of itself.