confession #294

I miss you.

... Never Done...

I never finish anything I start or put my mind to. I have a closet full of half-finished projects, a list of projects to start probably never, and a notebook full of plans and ideas for a novel or poems that I'll never actually develop.

Promises I make to myself last a short time if at all. I'm passionate, but only for a little while. It always peters out. Always.

I'm a jack of all trades, but an expert at nothing, unless you count abandoning and giving up.

[Write more about why you feel this way here.] 

Day 290: Stop. Focus. Click... On Life's Little Pleasures

One word: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. (Yes, those are rose petals! Never tried that before, but my skin came out soft and nice-smelling!)

Day 288: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... It Would Be 5 O'Clock Everywhere

"No, mom, you can call me then because it'll only be 10 o'clock here... Yes, I know you always forget..."

I hate daylight savings time almost as much as I hate different time zones. Sure, now that we've set the clocks ahead, we're not going to work in the dark and coming home after it gets dark again, but it never fails that just when my internal clock gets used to getting up at 6:50 a.m. every morning, the time changes so it's like I'm forcing my body to get up at 5:50 a.m. because of course I can't fall asleep earlier than my usual bedtime.

But the central time zone brings with it many more headaches, mostly because everyone I talk to over the phone is in a different time zone. All my friends and family not to mention everyone I deal with at my second job are in the eastern time zone, and I work at a company that has international customers, so I'm constantly having to calculate out the different time zones so I can figure out when to call people based on when to best get ahold of them. 

In Lichtenstein, the country is small enough that everyone would be in the same time zone. And as of right now, I'd move the clocks back a half an hour and leave it there for good. When it's 5 o'clock in Lichtenstein, it's 5 o'clock everywhere. See you for happy hour food specials.

Day 283: Stop. Focus. Click... On Ridiculousness, Part III

It's time for a third season of "Ridiculous," which is my place to vent about the ridiculousness of this world. (Read about the first Ridiculous and the second Ridiculous.)

This "bike" - one without a seat, tires, chain, or handlebars - was chained to a fence with a bike chain. Normally, a bike chain is used to secure a bike so it's not stolen. My question is, "Who would want to go through the trouble of stealing this?"

There are limited seats on the train going from downtown Chicago to the suburbs, and nothing infuriates me more than these horribly rude people who take up two seats so they can sleep more comfortably. While I have no issues asking them to move if it's the only seat available, and I want to sit down for the 45-minute ride, I see others stand so as not to disturb them.

One of my biggest pet peeves is people taking up more room than is needed, and just being an ass about it. Yes, I'm talking about you, Porsche owner who takes up the two spots nearest the store so no one parks too close to you. The same thing goes for you, red truck owner. You own a truck, and it's a large vehicle. But it's not so large as to take up FOUR (yes, four) parking spaces. Or even two.

Day 281: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... Eat When You're Hungry and Sleep When You're Tired

When I was in collage, I had a friend who said he wished he could do just three things whenever he wanted: "eat, sleep, and screw."

While they are all arguably basic needs - without reproduction, the human race would die out - I have to say that if I had to pick two I would go with the two that have to do with the very basic human needs: eat and sleep.


I am most grumpy when I'm tired, and fairly unpleasant to be around when I'm hungry. It's because I'm uncomfortable when I'm either.


Therefore, if I ruled Lichtenstein, I would ensure these two needs are satisfied as best as I can. If workers need a siesta in the middle of the day, they'd be allowed to sleep if they wanted to make up the hours later in the day. If they were hungry, they could help themselves to the healthy snacks that employers would be required to provide their employees at all times. And meetings during the lunch hour will strictly be banned, with the exception being only a meeting where the employer agrees to buy lunch.


Productivity would be up, and workers would be happier. And all it would take is allowing them to get enough shut-eye along with snacks.

Day 279: Never Have I Ever... Learned The Proper Technique To Break Someone's Arm Two Different Ways

"Is it weird that I've had the song 'Kung Fu Fighting' in my head all day?" I asked my colleague when we were on our way to Song's Kung Fu Academy so I could try out martial arts for the first time.

"No, that's the ringtone I have set for the people in class," my friend laughed.

Even though I felt like I had the basics regarding what to expect -- bow after I walk in the front door, immediately take off my shoes, stand in the back by the door, call everyone wearing a black belt, 'sir' -- nothing my friend could have told me would have prepared me for the 90-minutes of floundering I did in that class.

My friend did tell me that he wasn't able to let me know ahead of time what to expect because every day in this class is different. What he failed to tell me was that this is an advanced martial arts class. Half of the class, including my friend, were wearing black belts.

This explains why we were taking turns doing roundhouse kicks - you know, where you do a 360 spin in the air and kick at a target at the end - within the first five minutes.

You're kidding me, I thought, as I was watching the rest of the class dive over a pole into a somersault on a mat, including my friend, who amazed me throughout the class with his martial arts skills.

"Yeah I'm just going to crawl underneath it," I said to the instructor, who stopped me the next time it was my turn and told me to do the exercise correctly, but slow by just doing a kind of standing somersault.

After the crazy cardio exercises, we lined up in two lines, one in front of the other. The front line, which consisted of the most advanced students, then faced the back line so we could practice some moves and tweak our technique.

The guy in front of me who I just noticed at this point then became my partner. He was so nice and patient in teaching me the difficult techniques that it was hard not to immediately like the kid. And it wasn't until he kept reminding me to look at his face when I was throwing punches that I realized just how attractive he was.

"But I don't want to punch you in the face," I told him, as I was directing my punches just to the right of his head. I am not going to be the one to mess up that gorgeous face. Those dimples are really adorable, I thought.

And it just got worse from there, as I felt more and more distracted by this guy's charm, even though the moves we were doing were complicated, and we were practicing them up to the point where one of us had to tap the other to signal that it hurt too much.

"No, don't do that. You don't want me behind you," he said when I tried twisting out of a move with my back to him.

Oh I don't know about that, I thought. Ack, get your head out of the gutter. But the thoughts only got worse from there.

"Try this. Take my arm and pull it into your chest," he said, trying to teach me one of the two ways we learned to break someone's arm.

Babe you don't have to tell me twice... Ugh! Erika! Concentrate... No, not on those dimples! On the technique. "OK, like this?" I asked him, trying my hardest to pull his arm toward me while figuring out how to wrap my other arm around it and, after placing three fingers reminiscent of a mantis on his forearm, simulate bending it unnaturally so it'd break.

"There you go! Let's do it again," he replied.

And even though I felt like I barely treaded water and my thighs were screaming at me from sweeps (where you drop to the floor and sweep your leg out in front of you with the goal to knock your opponent to the ground), the sifu teaching the class told me "good job for keeping up," at the end of the class.

"So are you going to sign up for a class?" my friend asked as I was inhaling Mediterranean food from the restaurant across from the school. 

"Uh," I said, thinking about how uncomfortable I felt trying to keep up with those who are masters of this art. "I think maybe I'll try a beginner's class next time."