Email

Have you taken a look in your spam folder recently? Perhaps you should. You really might get a kick out of what you find there. I happen to get a lot of spam. I'm not sure why. I don't go to pornographic web sites. I know that's what you're thinking, so let's just nip that one in the bud, shall we? But seriously, I get a lot of spam, and some of it is just ridiculous. I used to get these messages about growing giant blueberries. I never opened them, obviously, because who knows what kind of computer-destroying or identity-stealing viruses might have awaited me inside? But I could tell from the subject line what the message was about, because it would say "Grow Giant Blueberries" or "Increase the Size of your Blueberries Tenfold!" or some other ludicrous thing. Who the hell is trying to grow giant blueberries? Well, apparently someone. I mean, how else do they get that "World's Largest Blueberry" and similar attractions? I don't know if there really is a world's largest blueberry. I mean, obviously, there is, somewhere, but I'm not sure if it is an attraction. But you get the picture.
Anyway, I can understand why blueberries and male enhancement drugs end up in my spam folder...but why do messages from myself? That's right. I email myself a message...from myself...and it ends up in my spam folder. And not at the top either, sometimes. It quite often ends up a few items down in the folder. How's that work? My spam filter is evidently pretty strict, seeing as it catches not only spam, but also messages that could not possibly be spam. Way to go, email. I have Yahoo mail. I've heard Gmail has better spam filters, so that messages about giant blueberries and giant sex organs will not end up anywhere, not even in your spam folder. However, when I attempted to open a Gmail account, and succeeded, I elected to have email forwarding from my Yahoo account, and the forwarding stopped after a little while and has not resumed since. This is probably somehow my fault, but until I figure out how, I will not admit it. And I know Gmail is part of Google, which runs this blog, but I have to be honest with my readers here. I hope that once I do get my Gmail account up and running, I will not be receiving messages about how to grow radishes that will break free of their roots and form a mafia to take out unwanted pests and neighbors. Although that would be far more interesting than giant blueberries or penile enlargements. Or penile enlargements for your giant blueberries. Why do your blueberries have penises? What are you asking me for? How should I know?

We're all human...here's to being self-aware

So, I was thinking the other day about something I find interesting. There's a vague statement. Allow me to elaborate. I was listening to a long, boring, far-too-detailed voice message someone had left on my machine, getting irritated, sighing, exhaling forcefully, you know, the usual response. After that, I had to make a call, and had to leave a message, and about a minute or so into it, I realized I was doing the exact same thing I had just privately criticized and cursed someone else for--leaving a long, drawn-out, minutia-laden message. I laughed to myself, called to my fiance to tell her how funny it was that I had just caught myself doing this, couldn't get her attention, had to yell for her to turn off the hair dryer, had to yell two more times before she did, finally told her, as I laughed some more. Her response? "That's great, babe. Why don't you hang up now." I had totally forgotten that I was still connected. That message was going on three minutes. Far longer than the message the other person had left me. It's good to be self-aware.
I've become more self-aware about quite a few things recently. Question: How many times can you check your watch or the time on your cell phone and still have no idea what time it is? I've definitely done it at least three times on multiple occasions. What does that tell me? I have horrible short-term memory. No, it tells me I'm not paying attention. I'm distracted, thinking about the long message I just left someone, or trying to remember if I checked my apartment door enough times (at least three) to make sure it was locked before walking away.
It's funny how when there are too many things going on in your head at once, it appears to others that there is nothing going on in your head.
But why does this happen? Why are we so distracted so often? I think part of the problem is over-stimulation. Think of the sheer volume of media and advertisements to which we are exposed on a daily basis, from numerous sources. How could we be anything but distracted? The answer is: By developing filters in our minds which retain what we need and let slip through what we don't. It's easy to let all this visual and auditory stimulation wash over you, and, to be honest, a lot of it does just go in one ear or one eye and out the other, but when you really stop and think, there is a lot of it that stays with us. I can at least speak for myself when I say that I will see or hear an advertisement relating to my career or my interests or something I've been meaning to do, and I will think about it extensively. And then I'll hear or see another, and think about that one, and so on. I think this is especially true for ambitious people and chronic multi-taskers, both of which I am.
When our minds become over-stimulated and flooded with all these thoughts and "notes to self," we need to find a way to clear the air and become focused again. There are many ways to do this, but I feel one of the best is meditation. Pop on some headphones if you like and listen to some relaxing music, do some deep breathing, and try to think about nothing. Believe me, it's harder than you think. But it will help you to feel less stressed, less overwhelmed, and more focused. I think you will find that you can actually accomplish more by thinking less.
Meditation can also provide the cure for what I believe to be the other main cause of distraction today: The breakneck pace of modern living. Especially in urban environments but also in the suburbs, we live life in the fast lane. We tell ourselves that we need to slow down, but we sometimes can't seem to escape the race. Set aside time for yourself to do nothing but sit or lie down, breathe and free your mind. You'll probably find that a lot of the things you thought were so important to do right now can either wait or be dismissed from your agenda altogether. I believe you will find it a very liberating experience, and you will probably lead a more relaxed and rewarding life. Many people say, "I don't have time to meditate!" But therein lies the problem: If we are too focused on time, we cannot make time to let go of time. It is in the absence of time that we find peace.

WAFFLE CRISP is highly addictive

Are you familiar with the cereal Waffle Crisp? It is sweet and delicious and composed of tiny little waffles soaked in syrup. I used to love it as a child, and then it disappeared for years, YEARS, and then the unthinkable happened...I found it again, in an A&P grocery store in Hastings-on-Hudson, New York, my new home. I bought a box, and consumed it in a single day. A matter of a few hours, really. I just couldn't get enough of it. So I went back a couple days later and bought another box, which I proceeded to consume again in a single day. Hmmm...that's interesting. Again, as soon as the sweet taste of syrup-soaked waffle in cold milk hit my tongue, a sensation so divine and delightful shot through the sensory receptors in my brain and I felt pure happiness. I bought another box. And then another. I have not been able to make a box of Waffle Crisp cereal last longer than two days since I found it again here in New York. I can only conclude that Waffle Crisp...must be laced with cocaine. They should call it Waffle-cane. Or Waffle-ocaine Crisp. I'm just kidding. Now you can't sue me, Post Cereals. And if you did, I would no longer buy your cereal. Well, I would TRY not to buy it. But, addictions can be hard to break...

Chocolate Massage

What's the deal with a chocolate massage, anyway? So you get chocolate rubbed all over you by someone you don't know, and then what? You're just supposed to wash it off? Well what good is that? Waste of chocolate. Why use something as tasty as chocolate if you're not going to eat it? Why not use something else with the same consistency and feel, but not the sweetness? Unless someone is going to be licking that chocolate off of you, I don't see the point in having it put on in the first place.

Another thing to worry about....

Well, summer is here, and so is swamp-ass. But luckily, we have air-conditioning! Well, some of us do. Not to rub it in for those who don't. But, those of you who don't, this topic still should be of concern to you. For I am not about to discuss the use of air conditioners--but rather, the hazard they present. I first thought about this as I was walking to work in Manhattan one day, on the sidewalk, and happened to look up at a very tall building and see many air conditioners hanging out of windows, as they tend to do. And I thought to myself, with all these people walking this sidewalk every day, and all the sidewalks of New York City, and all the air conditioners hanging out of all the windows, what are the odds that one air conditioner--AT LEAST ONE--will fall from its perch, its supports broken or improperly installed by a careless individual, and smash into the head of one of the passersby, killing them instantly. Is it a morbid thought? Yes. But couldn't it happen? Yes, of course. Is it worth worrying about excessively? Probably not, for the average person. But do I take care to walk on the edge of the sidewalk, as far from the potential arc of a falling air conditioner as I possibly can, just in case? Yes I do. And does this make me more likely to be hit by a swerving vehicle driven by one of the thousands of nuts in the Big Apple? Well, we can't worry about everything. But wouldn't you rather be hit by a car than crushed by an air conditioner? You decide.

How to Stand Out in the Crowd

A helping hand, people. When you don't know what a word means, just don't look it up, don't ask anyone, and simply interpret it any way you please, however totally incorrect. Just take a guess. It just may get you noticed. It did for me. And look where I am now. I did that with the word 'swanky,' which was the announced attire for an awards ceremony for our college theatre group, Stage Troupe. Everyone else--and I mean, every single other person--who attended wore either a suit or a dress. I wore a black hefty trash bag with armholes cut out, and sunglasses. I just could not believe I was the only one who had interpreted the attire more...loosely? Creatively? Stupidly? So, the moral is, don't think you won't be the only one. Don't think, Oh I'm sure someone else will wear this, someone else will do this, because you might turn out to be terribly wrong. Some ideas--like about forty-five percent of mine--sound great in your head but lose a little something in reality, when you're sitting in a huge plastic bag surrounded by people dressed to the hilt in red-carpet style. That may have been a wake-up call for me, because it certainly deterred me from ever doing that again, even though I did receive several compliments on my wardrobe.

Laundry (revisited)

So here's a fun fact, or I guess an opinion really, because some may disagree (for incomprehensible reasons). If you run out of underwear, it's not a good idea to wear your bathing suit for three days under a pair of jeans. It's not all that comfortable. It bunches up a lot in all the wrong places, and if you think a normal wedgie is bad, try a nylon/mesh wedgie, intensified by said bunching. It feels like a fisherman has caught you by the butt with his net and is trying to pull you in. You're better off going commando, even in jeans. Or you could just do your laundry, but maybe you have no choice, at least for today. I wore that bathing suit and jeans combo for three days straight. I've only felt more disgusting a few other times in my life. My buddy and I actually started a Facebook group called 'The Victims of Underwear Shortage' in honor and support of all those college students who temporarily at a very bad time have found themselves unable to fit laundry into their schedules or budgets. It's a support group. Real people. Real stories. Real underwear. Check it out and join if you're brave enough to share your story with us.