Early last week or perhaps the week before I was in a mood. A no good, very bad mood over a variety of things all of which were money oriented. All of which stemming from irresponsibility and/or a month of cross country travel that left me feeling destitute. I walked into my coworker’s office, plopped down in a chair and made a HRMPH type noise. Like “Dear God, life is so hard. With the living and the having to choose between having money and a trip to Martha’s Vineyard”. COME ON everyone needs R&R and I was on that cusp of needing to get to get out. To go somewhere. To breathe something other than badly circulated air conditioning. I needed to smell salt water and eat fresh clams.

And I walked into my coworker’s office and told her just that.

“All I want to do is vacay and I can’t vacay because I have to work and let’s face it, I cannot afford to vacay. Fuck my life”

She cocked her head to the side.

“I want five minutes of peace and quiet. There’s also a dress I’ve been eying but more importantly THE BEACH and I haven’t been to the Vineyard all year. WHY IS MY LIFE SO HARD?”

Her head moved a little more to the left and she smirked. And with that I knew what she was thinking.

My head stayed straight ahead as I closed my eyes and repeated everything that had just spewed from my mouth in my head. The complaints about vacation and Martha’s Vineyard and why I had to spend a week in Seattle eating raw oysters and drinking French 75. Feel free to slap the shit out of me and my agony.

I rolled my eyes at myself and was ready to shut up and returned to my own office. The office where I sat among piles of papers with layoff and attrition projections. Dollars lost were staring me in the face. In the background played a debate on the Senate floor on the extension of Unemployment Insurance. I vaguely heard Mitch McConnell mention something about the unemployed needing to pick themselves up by the boot straps and find a damn job already (I’m paraphrasing here). For clearly that was the reason for trillions in deficit; all of those people who were sitting on their ass watching the Real Housewives instead of working. Of course.

Then more eye rolling and general head between my knees-ness over email upon email as to why it had become such a Herculean effort to keep teachers employed. There was a discussion of offsets so as not to contribute to the deficit and where the offsets should come from so as not to piss off that group or this one. But even if it was paid for someone had to have a problem because again, WHY CAN’T THESE PEOPLE JUST FIND A JOB?! Never mind that pesky recession. People just aren’t trying hard enough. People didn’t want it enough. Parents didn’t want to take care of their children. Dad’s didn’t get those bags under their eyes from sleepless nights after realizing that no bacon would be brought home. Moms didn’t fret about giving their children enough to eat. They just didn’t care and that’s why they didn’t get jobs and another “bailout” wouldn’t get them off their Bon Bon eating asses.

No one should have to go through that. No one should have to worry about how to care for their children or themselves. It’s so very liberal of me, I am aware but it is also the human side of me that doesn’t like to see people in excrutiating pain and awaiting foreclosure because of jobs lost. I cannot imagine being that terrified day to day and having the fate of my job in the hands of people who have never and could never be there. How can you help when you don’t know what it’s like to spend each day surrounded by worry. Will there be a job or won’t there? I don’t like What If and that’s on things that don’t matter like what if I can’t buy wine tomorrow or what if I can’t buy that new MacBook Pro?

I know that things are relative and we look at our circumstances and pain as individuals and not in relation to the world around us. It’s hard to see past our own problems – however small – to realize that there are those who are spend each day in a state of perpetual fear. That’s what made me feel like That Asshole; the one who couldn’t afford that trip to a beach house and didn’t want to work or just wanted a nap dammit! I turned into that person but what makes me less of an asshole – and probably you as well – is realizing that things are good. Relatively speaking. As long as I keep trying and I did keep trying and tomorrow there is a vote in the House to prove that I worked my ass off and that the gray hairs of stress were worth it.

I’m not a complete jerk. And what makes me less of an asshole is that I made myself aware. And I hope that for five seconds you can realize as well. Realize that as I type, others are in the absolute worst of situations and that vacation or no, we are some of the lucky ones.

This gives me chills. Even better, I wrote it and it gives me chills which is narcissism at it’s finest. I can’t believe it’s been a year. It feels like longer and less all at the same time. You all keep asking me how I feel about what’s been going on politically and that is a far longer piece of writing. One that requires a bit of soul searching and coming to grips with the reality of democracy. One the one hand I am a bit angry and perplexed by some of the behavior and on the other I cannot say that it’s not nice to live in a country where we are able to speak out and speak freely. It’s interesting to say the least. I’ll save the rest for later but for now read about that one day in November.

While on vacation I had dinner with my friend KG one evening. For the record ‘KG’ isn’t some pseudonym or something for her, it’s just that I have pet names for all of my friends. Usually I keep them in my head or they are in my phone as the way I refer to them in my mind. Like my friend Sarah is in my phone with her entire name and that is how I refer to her. Again. IN MY HEAD. So KG is KG at all times whether she knows is and/or likes it. The very first time I met KG, Alice introduced me to her and Alice kept talking to me and I was too busy all up in KG’s grill harassing her and she accepted it and likes me despite myself. She also looks like she belongs in a J.Crew catalog which adds to her general precious self.

And wow, I just hit my ass kissing quota of the day.  But seriously, if you met her you’d be all “I love you. Be my friend?” too.

It’s kind of hard to come up with really! great! stories from Martha’s Vineyard because it is so the opposite of hyperbole and extremes. Martha’s Vineyard is sitting on your butt all day in your bathing suit only moving if – and only if – the sun happens to scald your shoulders. Crossing the Nantucket sound is like an hour of Vinyasa yoga. You feel all zen and chill and all your cares are whisked away.

Upon returning our friend Danny wanted to know how our meeting went. To which I replied that it went swell and all but dude, she can’t chug a beer. And that concerns me because my #7 quality for a friend is “Must excel at flip cup”. It’s just above “Must accept overuse of ‘fuck’” and right under “Trustworthy”. So color me appalled when we were getting ready to leave and I finish my beer in one gulp and there’s KG, delicately sipping away. I swear she even had her pinky up.

But what I really wanted to tell Danny was this story:

We’re sitting at dinner and KG’s husband wants to know all the spectacular details of my life. Normally I sit there and look mildly confused but since I had the gift of Sam Adams summer ale inside of me I gave him the quick and dirty rundown. Her eight year old son was sitting across from me engrossed in Harry Potter and stopped reading to listen to my very exciting life which did not involve Tom Riddle. Instead of being disappointed in my abilities to scare off Deatheaters, he then exclaimed, “Wow! You’ve had a big life”.

“Wait, how old are you?” he said after a brief pause.

“25…” And as I waited for him to ask me to whip out my AARP card he suddenly said, “AND YOU’RE ONLY 25!” Like genuine shock that at 25 I’ve actually done stuff. And God willing I’ll do more, like, stuff.

But because I was writing Danny back from my phone while lying in the fetal position, I didn’t tell him this story. I also didn’t mention the part where The Eight Year Old asked for a pony and I gave him one and then I offered up 50 bucks if he’d come live with me and be my personal self-esteem booster.

The Eight Year Old spent the rest of the evening quizzing me on Harry Potter knowledge and then we saw some fireworks that made me feel vomitous, deaf and blind. And then we had beers and then KG drank her pale ale with her pinky up.

And that, kids, pretty much sums up my vacation.

KG thinks I should write like a book or something. I’m assuming that at some point she’ll read this post and my attempt at ‘story-telling’, her eyes will bulge out of their sockets and she’ll say out loud, “Holy hell. Stick to your day job, honey”. I mean, I’m totally guessing here but my God, that was not my best work.

“Everyone who has run knows that its most important value is in removing tension and allowing a release from whatever other cares the day may bring.”  ~Jimmy Carter

WARNING: EXTREME NARCISSISM AHEAD.

Poor planning on my part is what led to three 5Ks in three weeks. It also led to a reduction in my Spongebob Squarepants body shape and an ability to breathe while wearing pants again. It did nothing for the tear inducing foot pain but it I did end up shaving 6 minutes and 7 seconds off of my overall time. I’m nowhere near my personal best and I fear that by announcing this to the public at large my friend Bill, the super marathoner, will woo me with GSM and then be all, “By the way, after you finish that bottle, we’re running 7.5 mils in the morning!” and then he might be missing an important appendage.

I honestly couldn’t have gotten through dragging my large ass up some mini-hills without music. Music is what fills the soul. Music is what people turn to when there aren’t enough words. Music is also good at preventing me from dick punching* those assholes who finish the 5K in 18 minutes and then decide the taunt the rest of us by running back through the course. Music saves lives.

Here are my most favorite songs to run to and I’m about to download Rump Shaker because if someone telling you, “I’m feelin’ manly and your shaker’s comin’ in handy” doesn’t get your ass moving then I don’t know what will:

1) Groove is in the Heart – Deee Lite

2) Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Can See – Busta Rhymes

3) Don’t Stop Me Now – Queen

4) It’s Me Bitches – Swizz Beatz

5) Ms. New Booty – Bubba Sparxx

6) Temperature – Sean Paul

7) Tambourine – Eve

Single Ladies – Beyonce

9) Mr. Brightside – The Killers

10) Boom Boom Pow – Black Eyed Peas

*I got that phrase from Linda. She makes my potty mouth that much more vulgar.

About seven or so people tagged me for that Twenty Five things meme on Facebook. I figured that I’d cheat and use it as a blog post instead because I am lazy. Actually “I think that indolence is an acquired skill and a good one to have at that” should’ve been number one on this list. But it’s not.

1. I have a serious hair phobia. If there is a hair that isn’t mine on anything that I own, I freak out and have to find a tissue to remove it. Then I wash my hand repeatedly.
2. Every single day, I think I am a terrible writer. I say this not for you to coddle me but because everyone has those moments.
3. I am a typical Scorpio.
4. I had no friends in Middle School. Those who I thought were my friends actually called me names behind my back.
5. One of those ‘friends’ ended up dying a few years ago. He was only 20. It still broke my heart.
6. I can be very mean and vindictive. It’s awful but the antithesis is that I am fiercely loyal.
7. Don’t tell my parents, but I think they are the greatest fucking people on this planet.
8. My family is very religious. I believe in God. But I also believe that God is a forgiving and loving God that only cares about whether or not you are a good person and that you tried your best while on this earth.
9. I am apathetic towards dating. So I just don’t.
10. Because of this one of my best friends once told me that I am asexual.
11. Trust me, it’s not that.
12. I have no self confidence so I spend a lot of time wishing that I could write better.
13. My last year in DC I found out that I have a Bipolar II disorder.
14. Which sucks because I should have routine in my life and I suppose ‘routine’ doesn’t include including time in my schedule for TSA searches.
15. I have baby names picked out. Exactly seven people know what they are and they are all sworn to secrecy. I love the names and if my future spouse hates them then tough shit.
16. I am addicted to C-SPAN. I watch it all day while other people are on Pandora or LastFM. There I am watching Jeff Sessions get all angry and red faced.
17. The other day I asked my congressman what they do on the floor between debates. You know how in baseball you see them on the bases chatting? I always wonder what they’re talking about too.
18. I got my dream job by accident when I was 23.
19. I had a plan and now my plan is destroyed so I’m having a bit of a crisis because WHAT DO I DO NOW??
20. I used to read all the time, including in the bathroom and in the shower. I stopped when reading became mandatory and only textbooks. I just purchased my first fiction novel in about five years.
21. I play the clarinet. I’m actually really good at it. I also play the bassoon and bass clarinet
22. I also throw the shotput and discus.
23. I met the president before he was the president. He asked me where I was from (Albany) and then he told me that it’s cold there. To which I said, “Dude, aren’t you like from Chicago?” He laughed.
24. I have a bedtime routine that involves half a melatonin, Johnson & Johnson nighttime baby lotion and an episode of 30 Rock.
25. I talk to Susan, Metalia, Sarah and Stara more often than I talk to so-called ‘real’ friends. They are my real friends. Four of my closest friends. And they’re ok with me being a lush who equates the J. Crew site to porn.

There are very few words that can relay just how painful this past year has been. Self-inflicted strife and heartache would touch the very tip of that iceberg but nothing to account for the number of times I felt my heart churning around in my gut and the times I sat laid in bed for hours longer than it should be legal, only to use a sick day because everything physically hurt based on a mental condition. I won’t miss the dull ache of the past twelve months and knowing that if one second, minute or phrase had been changed, if I had missed a train because of snow or if I had replied differently…my God…this year would have been far better than one of Soul Sucking Hell Fire and Doom.

2008 I will not miss you. You, wily bastard* shit head of perpetual disdain and sadness, go the fuck away.

And that’s the ‘family friendly’ version of what I’d like to say about this year. But it’s the end that counts…those last few days and weeks that prep you for the twelve months to come. The emails and notes of a different tune. The pep talks and ‘you can do it’ from 3,000 miles away. The difference between this year and the last is that while yes, I am in control of my actions but I’m not starting 2009 with dread, fear and this overwhelming guilt that bogs me down and forces me to live like I’m perpetually treading water. In the end, my legs aren’t tired, my arms aren’t sore and my head is above. This year, I won’t be gasping for air.

Here are my favorite posts of the past year. Posts that have made me smile and laugh, recoil and remember:

January: The 50MM Story

February: Filler, redux

March: Water into Wine

April: Pain and Understanding

May: La Madre

June: Fight and Flight

July: Just in time for vacation

August: What the good ones are made of

September: The rules of engagement

October: A lesson before 25

November: One day in November

December: There’s the tiniest sliver of hope at the end of this tunnel

*I borrowed that phrase from Metalia.

Last night Metalia and I discussed my sudden need to vlog and this afternoon* I decided to go forth and do so…despite a perpetual cold and looking like I stuck my head out the window while driving to work and that look you see there? With my eyes looking all pitiful and shit? It’s not because I was trying to be sullen and pathetic it’s just that the cold/exhaustion combo has my puffy eyed and crappy tailed. To give you a glimpse into my suffering: I woke up at 3 AM yesterday morning after two hours of sleep and a bottle and a half of wine while traipsing through Gallery Place. Proof and PS 7′s is a good idea 99.9% of the time. But that .1% is because my taste in good food and good wine over powers any ounce of wisdom I might have. It’s like the option to drink Tempranillio is far more important than being able to function at any point. I’d rather be drifting on thoughts of Spain than be able to walk and blink my eyes at the same time.

*You have to click on the link because I am so displeased by the way I look that I figure that the extra step will deter people from viewing. In other news: I have body/face image issues.

Metalia was on a very important conference call this morning, during which she decided to make my dreams come true. In friendship, it’s important to have a friend who knows your flaws and yet loves you just the same. Which means that all you people about to tell me how Eli Manning is a pussy ass cry baby, can suck it and I probably didn’t like you that much in the first place.

I’m about to forward this photo along to my father who thinks that Archie Manning (and spawn) should be shoved into the Mississippi River. So when he finally disowns me, he’ll have real evidence. Something a little more tangible than his refusal to get over that one time I peed in the back of his Volvo.

Happy Weekend, y’all.

For the amount that I whinge (on and on and on) about my life, you’d think I lived a terribly boring and miserable existence where all I did was spend a lot of time alone, possibly with a cat and an excessive amount of wine. Oh, wait…. 

These are only three tiny moments of my life. Which, for the record, is a pretty kick ass one. There, I’ve said it; I like my life. I think I shall keep it for awhile.  

*photos from 30 Tiny Moments; a Flickr group that the ever lovely Jessica of Kerflop started a few weeks ago. I’ve already shown that I’m a misanthrope, crazy-cat-lady, so your moments really can’t be that much worse.  

Do you ever have one of those weeks where there are just too many words? It’s like I’m drowning in letters and every time I think I can come up for air, there’s the word ‘myopic’ kicking me in the face.

Do you ever hone one of those weeks where you know that you’re coming down with the flu or scurvy or PMS and you want to just keel over and curl up in the fetal position but you can’t because there is table side prepared guacamole and pomegranate margaritas in your future? And really, what is more important: Health or patron? Think about it.

As such, I’m going to be that shitty blogger who says, “I’m not here but you can find me in these 17 other places!” My favorite being the exchange between myself and HRH Greeblemonkey.

Oh! Totally forgot to mention the part where I ran into the wall. Twice. Head first. Many of you are saying “No shit, I thought that probably happened to you ages ago” but alas not, it was yesterday and then again today.

And apropos of nothing else what is the first thought that comes to mind when you hear the name “Amani”? Atonement Review at MamaPop! (Some times they let me kick it over there)

Have I mentioned that I’m black and female and neither has any bearing on my decision on who to vote for? At BlogHer. (Some times they pay me to kick it over there) (And by ‘some times’ I mean monthly because how else do I afford the patron??)

And this gem right here. But read down to the end because the most important part isn’t about how I spend my money, it’s the fact that I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue. Seriously.