Jogger's Revenge

I have always enjoyed working out and being physically active. Gymnastics as a kid; leaping, bounding and hiding from the cops as a teenager; aerobics classes as an undergrad to bump me up to full-time student status; impromptu living room dance parties; committing hours of my life to the elliptical in my late 20's and subsequently losing 25 pounds and a big giant ass because of it in my 30's. But I have never really enjoyed running distances or running at all. Boring, painful, utterly loathsome. Hard landings from gymnastics messed up my ankles, shins and knees and the elliptical is a very forgiving machine for my dysfunctional bones and joints, but unlike when I lived in Richmond, I don't have a free gym 2 blocks away anymore. And the idea of running as opposed to the smooth glide of the elliptical sounded about as fun as plucking my pubic hair while drinking spoiled milk.

But I moved to Pittsburgh, just blocks from the amazing gem known as Frick Park (insert your favorite Frick'n joke here) and I have found that with the right shoes (thanks, Jeremy) and the right attitude (thanks, Colton) or the right amount of guilt for being a Glee-loving, Catan-playing, email obsessed computer/couch potato (thanks, society), that I have discovered how to jog, in fact, after a few miles into it and a warmed up body, I have discovered how to run.

Today, for instance, I jogged 4.5 miles with my Wilson in tow and walked an additional 1.5 for a total distance of 6 miles. It took just over 70 minutes. If you average the walk + run time, I'm doing about 11.66 minutes for every mile. That's not too bad, really. Okay, it's slow. I'd be the last person puffing and barfing at the end of a marathon or race, but I'm not so worried about that as of yet. Right now, the goal is to conquer my hatred of running/jogging and embrace the effects of cardiovascular fitness, increased energy, fresh air, beautiful scenery and let's face it, a hot looking body.

I've uploaded an app to my iPhone that tracks my distance and pace, so even if I cheat and walk a little bit, which I did today on the grueling uphill battlefield portion of my pathway, all is calculated and forgiven. The fact that after staying up until 3 am last night, tooling around the house, wasting time on my computer, not writing my dissertation and drinking beer, I awoke today, ate a solid breakfast, drank a ton of water, geared up and headed out the door with a very excited dog.

Other tricks that help me. Wear clothes you can sweat in, cotton undies and socks. Don't bring house keys. Do bring extra poop bags for Wilson. Running makes him shit. Do load up iTunes with extra crappy pop music like Lady Gaga because if there's one thing I've learned from all those hours invested in the elliptical, it's that a steady beat and dancy music keeps my body moving and makes time fly by - a true blessing. I also push myself further, move faster and if another great dance song comes on, like say Gaga's "Just Dance," well, then I just have to keep running, don't I? In fact, I'd like to give a big motherfucking shout out to that crazy bitch Lady Gaga, because without her I don't think I'd be running at all. And guess what happened post-run? I vacuumed my entire house, including the furniture, with a goddamned smile on my face and spring in my step.

Friends, don't fear for me. This change of pace, if you will, does not interrupt my steady diet of cheeseburgers, cheap red wine, and good music consumption. But I am happy to say that I certainly smoke far fewer cigarettes than ever before. Which is another tale for another time. Indeed, it is the happy balance of the best of all worlds that dictates this delicious harmony of my life.

Gonna Be OKAY - Just Dance!!!

What's up in my periphery? Earthquakes in Detroit (and Toronto), Kwame handed 19 federal indictments (yes, I voted for him, but only his first time running, when he PROMISED SOOOO much for our city, I voted Freeman Hendrix in round two and lost), torrential downpours in Pittsburgh, a slow and silent and solo night at the homestead with the kids, a little thunder and lighting to keep Wilson and I on our toes, cats lurking in the shadows. There's a whirlwind of great change afoot, I can feel it. The tectonic plates are shifting, justice is being served, but it continues to rain in my dining room, so as much as things change and heave and bob and weave, they also stay the same.

Such as it is, with crashing booms and equally powerful yet non-descript moments of quiet reflective bouncing around and dancing and singing with no one here to see or judge or care, I find myself oscillating like the $20 Home Depot fan in my sweet light purple cave of a bedroom, between one side of love, one side of life, one side from here to there and back again with every subject and facet of life's strange adventures and unpredictable variances with a well-oiled ease. Moving smoothly, flawlessly perhaps, from having real love and a real relationship to the exact opposite, from having a friend who is a friend and not a lover to the exact opposite, from having a lover who isn't even a friend to the exact opposite. From being unemployed to employed overwhelmingly, from being re-charged into my phd work to suddenly underwhelmed by its presence in my life at the very critical moment I think I'm finally ready to jump through another hoop and knock it all out with a 1-2 KT punch. Nope, the fan keeps moving, keeps shifting from side to side, blowing my wits and bits off guard. I may not have felt the quake in PGH, but I feel it every day in my heart and my mind. Just dance.

It's also too hot to go for a run, which I'd love to do, though I'm slow and don't jog more than a few+ miles, but I go go go, hustle, and I blast my Gaga along the way. So instead I'll work on my web presence, rebuilding the site taken down long ago when the petty little twerp I spent five years with deactivated the website I spent a year building. It's okay, the fan blows that away too. When that gets boring, what I have control over right now is the way I sway, shake my hips and shoulders, the volume of the shitty dance pop music I'm blasting, the dishes in the sink that I can't wait to wash, the dirt on my face and hands, the dirtyness of my insatiable appetites left to deal with later. The whirlwind of change is here, it's now, and I know I can also, always control the speed of the fan with which the winds blow about me. I can also turn the fan off.

Baby Old Lady Kitty came home and I remember being 16

My little 17 years young old lady cat, a respectable if not a totally smelly pillar of yucky mucous, sophistication and adventure, took off last week Wednesday and was returned home this Monday evening by 3 sweet and kind little girls up the street. I want to kiss and hug these kids so bad right now. After days of searching, posting ads on Craigslist, putting flyers up around the neighborhood and overall prayers to the universe, Britches, aka Dragon Toes, Britchy, Stinky Britches, Grandma, Bwitch, is safe at home, and wearing a collar with her name and my phone number on it. The veranda from where she escaped is barricaded in an ugly way, but cat-proofed nonetheless. I want to make sure this 6 lb feline equipped with full-on liver failure and fearlessness holds on to what I'm certain is likely the last life she has in her tattered bag that once held 9.

Now, I'm not quite sure if Britches is 17 -- I actually think she is older since I have no idea her date of birth or from whence she came. I suspect she came from Long's Farm, which was right next to our subdivision in Commerce Township, where I lived from 16 until 19 with my then very drunken father, who said one day "Who's ugly grey cat is that?" My sister Katherine and I replied that we didn't know, and he said, "Well, she's yours now, I've been feeding her for weeks."

And that's how simple it was and it came to be that Britches would live a life of romance, recklessness, adventure, drama and happiness and travel along my side. From the farms of Commerce, to the indoor day-spa of dad's house, to the shithole apartments in Detroit, to the nice places in Detroit too, to Richmond and now on to Pittsburgh, Britches and I were only apart for one year in all this time, during which time sister Katherine, who lived next door, housed Britchy with Fifi as I felt I needed some time to be cat-free in my tiny studio apartment.. No less than 6 months later, I find Iago, twinkie-sized and scared shitless, screaming, hungry, he fit in the palm of my hand, in a nasty dumpster on Prentis and then 2 weeks later I adopted little teeny Jupiter, who is now a bully and a pig-cat, weighing in at kitty-sumo level of 21 lbs. And for all his love for humans, he is the alpha-male, he is the cat version of Eric Cartman. So, I brought Britchy back home with home and it's where she's been ever since. The boys, 12 this summer, know she is the Queen of the Castle.

Britches is also a friend to Wilson as much as she is a friend to humans and cats alike. As opposed to Iago and Jupiter, she likes Wilson, I dare say she loves him. It's part of her fearlessness, her friendliness, her willingness to accept and be part of the pack that makes her so special to me. He likes her too, he's not afraid of her like he is Jupiter, she doesn't taunt him, attack him, back him into corners, box his nose with her paws. She doesn't mind sharing space on my bed with him. (One mean look from Jupiter sends Wilson cowering, but don't tell anyone what a puss he is when it comes to pussy).

Her absence was heartbreaking. At worst I thought she'd run away to die - this liver failure is real, her senility is real, her craziness is real, death seems real. At best, I figured someone might have mistaken her for a kitten and decided to keep her. My ads were very clear, she is not a kitten! She is an old lady, the Betty White of cats! But in this absence I began to think of things I might have carried with me in my life as long or longer than her.

My name, for one. Some photos. A Stephen King book or two. And a pair of black Converse All-Stars I wore in high school and still have and that actually don't smell bad. What do you have from 17 years ago? From the time you were 16? It's a strange way to think about life, and death, and loss of not only the things and materials you love, but the living, breathing, loving creatures that grace us with their presence. I've spent half my life with this animal, this harbinger of sweetness and effection, and snot rockets the size of rockets, the color of electric green algae. I've spent what, thousands? of dollars on her food, litter, health care - including 2 surgeries to have her rotten teeth removed, which rendered her desensitized to treats, tuna juice, cheese, or any other delicacies other than her constant need for bowls full of her one and only culinary delight in this world -- original blue bag Purina Cat Chow.

Britches is my girl in my life filled with boys. Of all the boys and things and places and pieces of myself that I've loved and lost and changed and grown out of along the way, Britches has been with me, sleeping on my head, purring in my ear, looking at me with her beautiful huge green eyes, her Pixie Bob petiteness, with a devotion and care that keeps me humble, happy and human.

Welcome home little old crazy lady cat. I love you so much.

A Friday Toast

Jameson Irish Whiskey is delicious, but did you know it is even more so with Pellegrino? As I sip on the last of the economy-sized gallon bottle of whiskey I bought just in case I go broke, feet up on the lovely veranda in my rustic-urban, shabby-chic flat, a gorgeous Friday evening in June winds down as do the pennies I've scraped up over the years and the student loan funds I have to start paying back in August. Yes, my tastes are refined, my palate luxurious on Irish booze and Italian water, but my accounts are empty. Thankfully I have my professional babysitting skills to rely upon!

So cheers, let's toast this Friday evening, a night of KT hanging in PGH, a rare Friday night off from aforementioned second career path, reflecting because that seems to be the theme of the day, to only celebratory occasions with class, sexiness and true joie de vivre!

I passed my comps, ahem, high passed.
Two essays + 3 days + 32 pages of writing and bibliography = One crazy lady.

Vacationed in Detroit. Except for Heather, I spent more time with more friends and family than all of last summer? The list: Heather, Greg, Zoe, Susan, Peter, Hernan, Natalia, their 3 cool NYC friends, Colton, Marianne, Leia, Klipper, Vaupel, Spivak and Spivak, Selmin, Carlson and Brandy, the regulars at Jumbo's, Allan, Beth, Sandy, Dave, Faina, Bridget, Jenny, the Cass folk at Beth's BBQ, Mom, Buddy, Katherine, Grant, Tobie, Kim and TC, Dad, Nancy, Winsome, Parker, Gunther, Matt, Meshawn, The Detroit Tigers, and host of familiar faces and places and smells and spells. Awesome.

Next, it was Slim and Kim, Episode Number 2. This time no spinning couches, but Greg having to get tough with a guy named Christy (for real) who wouldn't stop hitting on me at Brillobox. My lady-crush from the InSeams was there with pomped out bangs. I think I have a crush on her not because she's all hot, but because she sings in a fun band and plays guitar, and does so with such a calm cuteness and mellow ass-kicking-ness -- I think it's more of an admiration than a crush -- touching on my dreams of being in a similar band but settling for karaoke.

I have a new housemate too! Tim! After months of deliberation, hemming and hawing so much in that 2nd bedroom that I never got a fucking thing done in that 2nd bedroom, I made the decision to rent the second bedroom. The 101 Dalmations room. I moved all my shit out of there - all 1000 books, 200 records, 4 bookcases, huge Ikea desk and million other boxes of my life into different areas of the house -- by myself!!! Oh holy soreness the next day! Looks amazing, a complete transformation of my living/working space, with room to spare. Then on a whim I looked on the rooms/housing wanted section of CR and found an ad that I liked from someone who sounded not only like fun, but responsible, professional and easy-going and MALE, wrote my own ad and sent it to this person. Why male: because chicks are crazy. Then we met for coffee and lunch and hit it off really well. How well do you ask? Well, Wilson humped his leg and he didn't freak out! So Tim moved in last week sans furniture, which unbelievably still hasn't arrived. Making the best of it all, he's got a cozy space on my couch, covered nightly in cat-love and dog visits, until his life magically appears at our doorstop, date as yet unknown. But the 101 Dalmations are history, the room painted Midday Mocha with Chocolate trim -- a real man zone! Even inspired me to put a fresh coat of paint on both sides of the bowling lane length hallway in our railcar apartment. Place feels like home.

So while the Jameson thins out and the dining room window leaks something most foul, putrid and awful and some bill somewhere is late, pending, hounding me, I fondly toast again to Pittsburgh. I discard those few ugly moments when I regret moving. I don't blame Pittsburgh, I don't blame anyone for the weird rut and fact is, I love it here. We love it here, myself and my 4 kids. I live in a beautiful neighborhood, I can catch the bus anywhere, I am solo and single and there are many prospects, thanks to friends like Kathryn and Jeremy and my own strengths and marketability. Not to mention the least of which being I simply finish my PhD. Simply. Finish. My PhD. Simple.

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

LCD Soundsystem is on repeat in my head (new album, yes!!!) in combat with the soundtrack to The Sound of Music. How strange!!! While I figure out my life here in Pittsburgh I also take great pleasure in the solid and confirmed fact that I am a constant lover, a master of the faux pas, socially a bit awkward, somewhat of a do-nothing recluse and a professional babysitter. So much is up in the air with my academic career and I'm juggling, ridiculously. 2nd set of comps for PhD in 2 weeks -- not ready. Final stretch of my first semester at PPU, maybe my last? Maybe the beginning of full-time? I've got some other apps out, still have no idea where I stand in terms of the FINAL FOUR outcome at PPU. I'm keeping on with my professional career-oriented self though, I love the Cinema & Digital Arts program and the way it works, the faculty, the entire premise, set-up and execution. Feels good here, want to stay but beyond my control.

Good news as always, I think I'll be tutoring Final Cut and filmmaking to a 14 year old girl this spring/summer. How fun!!! I can't wait. This takes my passion for teaching and interest in like-minded youngsters to an entirely different level and I can't wait to help her craft her narratives and hone her knowledge as a writer, shooter, editor. Maybe she's an Oscar winner and I get a big thanks! I imagine what it would have been like if I'd had a mentor or someone who knew and cared about my creative ideas at that age -- someone who wasn't my parents or my friends or their sympathetic parents who felt sorry for me and the neglect they saw. Nope. Just someone older who knew something outside of my world and gave a shit about me finding my artistic self through my preferred medium. I'd probably be a better artist/thinker/writer/researcher/maker today if I'd had such a thing. Though for a high-school drop-out, I'd say I'm doing okay...

Maybe I'm Fraulein Maria. Maybe this is why I've rented The Sound of Music and I'm taking my sweet ass time watching this film, I simply can't let myself finish it or let it go. Maybe I'm that governess I always wanted and needed. Kids take to me. I take to them.
There's freedom in this kindred spiritedness!!! Kids of all ages, young and old, Austrian or not! I love to laugh, I can acclimate to moods, I love to share, make, do, play, listen, learn, teach. I go above and beyond. I'll make play clothing out of draperies and talk back to Captain Von Trapp if need be! And ohhhh, Christopher Plumber is incredibly handsome in this film! Especially when he's wooing the Baroness Schrader, but especially when he joins the children singing Maria's song and she sees him through the doorway, soaked from the overturned boat, just fired after he mistakenly calls her "Captain" and not "Fraulein", and she watches him from the afar and knows she's changed their lives for good even if it means her demise as governess (which of course, it doesn't, it's the beginning of her growing love for The Captian and the beginning of the narrative, really). The Baroness looks stunning, but she's no match for the demure, strong, confident, fair and kind Fraulein. Maybe this is why I feel so much like Maria. How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

Not only that, I sing every song from the bottom of my non-smoking lungs at top volume. DO a Deer, a female deer. RA -- a drop of golden sun!!!! "When you know the note to sing, you can sing most anything!" I'm so pissed at that little nasty traitor Raulf. I want to kick his ass and hug Liesl and remind her to follow her dreams, no matter what. Her heartache is a true thing though. One I've felt more times than I like to remember.

With that...The Sound of Music might likely be the best musical ever. Can you name all seven Von Trapp children? The Salzburg dancing montage makes me weep with happiness. The irony of the nuns singing in the Abbey about Maria and her singing when there's no singing in the Abbey isn't lost on me. Wait, I also love Hedwig!!! See, conflict abounds in this life. At all times, in all ways.

Final thoughts -- Congrats to B with the Pitt interview and I hope Figg and Mc (McFigg?) also make it back here on a more permanent level. I could live the life of a pauper one more year if my nearest and dearest friends were here.

that "to do" list looks mean

Oh Angry To-Do list, why do you stare at me so? Unassuming little yellow post-it, easily movable from place to place, never really sticking, but always lingering. Loitering. Burning holes in my flesh! Yes, I see you. Covered in my own handwriting, waiting for items to be crossed off, deleted, eliminated. You are waiting for the moment when I crumple you up and put you in the garbage can. This is your destiny and you are destroying me in your process of self-actualization!

*Application to Chapman
*Application to Asian University for Women
*Application to Interlochen
*Edit short video for second competency
*Work on reading list


Simple enough, right? Except the applications each involve compiling so much data including portfolio, personal statements, transcripts, vita, writing samples, etc.

Short video means going through all the footage I hate from Hungary and salvaging some kind of short little film together that represents my skills as a video editor.

Reading list? 40+ books to knock out by the end of April.

Dear lord! Grant me the strength! The courage, the wisdom! Or any of these three things!

Wilson and I are going to go for a run and then...I should have cleared some head space to make some headway. Or so I hope.

cut your nails short - you can type faster!

It's already April? What happened to winter? Spring is here and Pittsburgh looks beautiful. Just walking through my neighborhood with Wilson is a treat, the light downtown on the buildings around 5 pm takes my breath away and today it was 80 degrees. I've done some work on the awesome enclosed front porch of my apartment, the "randy verandy" I like to call it. Throwing the big arched french doors open every morning expands the length of my already incredibly looooooong apartment, brings sunshine and fresh air all through the house and reminds me that I truly love it here -- not just the city, but home. My home, being at home, being in this space, this place, this time. I don't think I've ever been happier living anywhere than where I am right now. 3+ months in Pittsburgh...3+ months on my own, regaining my strength, my self, rooting and growing slowly at my own self-celebrating snails pace.

March came and went like a blink. Some failures and successes along the way, of which end of the spectrum they fall upon, I have really yet to decidedly decide. The big milestone was my interview at Point Park University for the tenure track faculty position for Editing/Post-Production. Out a fairly large pool of applicants, I made it into the 8 called back for interviews (mine in person, as I am already on staff there as Adjunct faculty). From that 8, it was narrowed down to 4, and I made it into the Final Four (NCAA reference not totally lost on me). The interview was daunting, harrowing, difficult, horrible really. Not because I think I performed poorly, but simply for the stressful factors of being put under a microscope for an extended period of time by people you already work with and know. I made it out, not unscathed, but wiser and with an experience I think I needed to experience. This was only my second job interview in my entire life! And I practiced, researched, struggled, ad-libbed. One thing's for sure, I looked pretty great! I do clean up nicely sometimes. The results are yet to be determined and frankly, completely out of my hands. Whatever happens, I know I was in the top 90% of their selection pool, that whether or not I land this gig doesn't define me or change who I am or what I've worked my whole life accomplishing. It'd be sweet, no doubt, but a vote either way won't shake my solid foundation. The only variable with jobs is the kind of building, structure, I'll put on top of this core. A facade, really. It doesn't matter where or what I teach, I'm a pretty awesome instructor and I know I bring knowledge, motivation and promise to my students.

That behind me, I've amped up my level of work on completing a bunch of my PhD requirements. Looks like 2nd set of comps will be done in early May. I also need to edit together a short video of my Hungary footage which scares me, but I can do it, I think. The challenge is welcome -- well, it's not unwelcome, per se. I also hired a woman to design my new website, I've done a shit load of work on my academic writing with Deb and Lynn (for forthcoming publication and conference presentation!) and I've spent a lot of time the past few weeks getting my life organized. Only a dent made in this, but progress nonetheless.

And I started jogging! Slow, not a lot of distance so far, but I'm building up some stamina and I love the way my body aches afterwards. Nothing quite like the exquisite torture of a most stunning and painful run through Frick Park.

It's been a really productive and long day and I am going to indulge in a healthy sized glass of wine. Only 2 things left on todays "to do" list, neither of which require the operating of heavy machinary or too much conversation. One thing I am sad about, this sudden slump with a dear friend who I miss and yet can't stand the rollercoaster ride with. We'll see how that all works out.