jenrock

I'm still here, I assure you, you whoever may be checking this blog. So here's a recap of what happened after the Mexico hiatus:

1) I came home and was promptly laid off.

So for someone who's getting it together, this came as a bit of a monkey wrench. I wasn't entirely surprised, work was slow, I had little to do and was being lectured to something about it (hint: there was nothing I could do about it). Truth be told, I'm relieved, especially in retrospect. Of course, at the time, I cried my eyes out, was really scared, and generally didn't leave the house for two weeks. But at the end of two weeks, I picked myself up, went outside, hit the gym and the library and got it the heck together again. I got myself on unemployment, took a good look at the job market, and started networking.

2) I started up a garden and honed my cooking skills.

I had a ton of free time and got sick and tired of sitting around. Instead, I went over to Home Depot with my roomie and her fantastic car, loaded up on supplies while I still had money, and built up a fantastic roof garden. My friend Kate proposed we blog about our mutual love of gardening this year, which lead us to start up Kate & Jen's Urban Garden, which in turn lead me to some networking attempts, which in turn has lead to interest from Better Homes & Gardens, the NY Daily News, and a local youth group, which we will be teaching a series of gardening classes to this summer.
On the cooking front, I finally cut out all of my favorite recipes from Food & Wine Magazine, started cooking up daily meals, learned to make bread and cheese from scratch (an absolute must try, go to http://www.cheesemaking.com to learn how you can too). I came across a local cooking contest, entered a recipe of mine, and now I'm a finalist on the up and coming contest. See what happens when you follow your passions?

3) I went to California.

Specifically, I visited San Francisco for a week. Job searching had started to get really tiresome, and I had a free plane ticket to anywhere in the US, and I have friends in San Francisco, one in particular who could put me up for free and take me around the town (she's retired, a good friend of the family, and a lovely woman), so I got the heck outta dodge and went West. It was exactly the pick me up I needed, too, sort of a week long healing of the soul. Every morning I woke up, my host left warm tea in the kitchen, and a note that said "I'm so glad you're here!" If you ever have the chance to do this for someone, I suggest you do so, it feels so wonderful to be treated this way, especially when you're down on your luck. I also learned how to shoot guns while I was there, and yes, I do mean plural. I even got to try my hand at skeet shooting and found I was something of a natural at it. That pretty much did it for draining me of my troubles and worries. I was at peace in California.

4) I decided to go back to school.

While in California, my host handed me a book called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver (its an amazing book, I suggest you all read it!). As I was reading it, I began to realize that there was a career within the realms of food and gardening, and I might want to be a part of it. So by June, I found myself enrolled in school, taking my first prerequisite to apply to Grad School for a Masters in Nutrition. My dream school? Colombia Teachers College. My goal is to walk through the doors in January '10. Wait and see...

The next two weeks will be entry free, I'm afraid, while I enjoy some much needed vacation time fun in the sun. In the mean time, please enjoy these recommendations to occupy yourself with:

Books I'm Reading:

Eat, Pray, Love - Ok technically I'm not reading this at the moment, but its my #1 go to book for people in relationship flux.

If the Buddha Dated - A fantastic self help book that examines relationships through the philosophies of Buddhism.

Maus - A two part graphic novel by Art Spiegelman detailing his father's survival of the Holocaust, and his attempt at reconciling his own past with that of his parents. Its dark reading, but very well written and I am finding I can't put it down.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - OK, so I'm the last person on earth to read this, but that's generally how I absorb all pop culture - years after it peaked. And come on, who doesn't love a good escape into the realm of fantasy?

Movies I'm Seeing:

Coraline - NOT directed by Tim Burton, but instead directed by the genius behind The Nightmare Before Christmas which Burton slapped his John Hancock all over but only "produced." I look forward to seeing this project done almost entirely with the now "old fashioned" technique of stop motion animation.

Grand Torino - If you haven't seen this already, you should. Its still lingering in a few theaters and hearkens back to Eastwood's Dirty Harry days, a film near and dear to my heart.

9 - An animated short that can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=964QHmjLqa0
Its now being made into a motion picture chock full of celebrity voices, but I don't think it'll be able to hold a candle to the original animated short.

Music I'm Listening To:

"Womanizer" by Britney Spears - OK, we all have our guilty pleasures...for some reason mine revolve around Britney Spears singles. Why? I don't know, but I can't deny it...sort of how gourmets sometimes can't resist eating at McDonalds.

"Shut Up And Let Me Go" by The Ting Tings - Fun, sarcastic, dance-able, cute blond chick kicking butt, what's not to love about this track?

"Kings Crossing" by Elliott Smith - One of the darkest of his songs, released posthumously, it speaks volumes of the singer/songwriter's mindset toward the end of his life and you feel like he's just shared an innermost secret once you listen to it.

"All These Things I've Done" by The Killers - an epic garage/alternative/indie rock track complete with a fantastic music video combining Faster Pussy Cat, Kill Kill with the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. With that description, do I need to really say more?

See you in 2 weeks!

Jen Gets It Together, Part 5
A weekly series about losing your way and finding yourself.

When I’m freshly out of a relationship, I get somewhat repulsed by the thought of moving on to another involvement. Some people are the rebound type, and that’s fine if it works for them, I don’t judge. I’m more of the “if you come near me I’ll stab you with this sharpie in my purse” kind of breakupee. Breakups, and to a lesser extent, relationships, really sap my energy. When I’m freshly hurt and trying to heal, the last thing I want to worry about is a guy freaking out at me because I agreed to let him buy me a drink and then didn’t give him my number. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy a good platonic conversation with a male counterpart. But sometimes I just want to be left alone to be my odd quirky self, having my own odd quirky adventures without anyone to answer to. I find alone time is essential for healing.

So the question is, in a city of nine million, where do you go to be left alone? Every bar and bistro can easily turn you into target practice for not only the well intending, but also the oily, sleazy, and desperate. So here are a few tips for where to go when you’re looking for alone time but want out of the house:

Tip #1 – Clearing Your Head:
I like to get outside, even on cold days, when I’m feeling confused, trapped, or otherwise muddled. Therapists (at least the more creative ones) will encourage patients to get outside to unknown territory, get lost even. Finding your way back from getting lost gets your mind focused on other things rather than the circular patterns of thought, which bog you down and depress you. In addition to that, you might discover some new parts of your neighborhood or town you didn’t know exist. Bring a camera, document your journey, get creative. Need a few ideas on where to go? I’m always a fan of gardens. Community gardens, botanic gardens, even vegetable gardens. They provide interesting plants to photograph, are less likely to have children who could potentially break a peaceful silence, and you’d be hard pressed to find a sleazy womanizer lurking around, bugging to buy you a drink.

Tip #2 – Venting Your Aggression:
Some people like to punch pillows. Some people like to scream into pillows. Frankly, pillows never did it for me. I need to throw things, make loud noises, thrash about violently, etc. After all, life dealt you lemons, and not just regular lemons, rotten, moldy, nasty lemons that burn you if you try to make lemonade from them. Are you going to sit there, smile weakly and thank life for those lemons? Or are you going to get angry and vent your frustrations about life treating you in unsavory ways that you, the good person you are, don’t deserve? Now, I’m not saying its time to get medieval on that coworker you’ve never liked. Its essential one find healthy outlets, I do not endorse hurting others.
I was recently recommended signing up for a martial art. Martial arts are largely built upon the foundations of discipline and brother- (or sister-) hood. Not only are you getting a good workout and learning to defend yourself, you’re building confidence along with the loyal companionship of your peers. Added bonus: you can scream and punch as much as you want. Take that, pillow.
Want to live dangerously? Try out a rifle course at a local gun range. Rifle courses usually don’t require you to apply for a gun license (although this may vary from state to state, so check your local laws). And don’t worry about the stigma of hunting and hurting others a gun comes with, you’re firing at inanimate targets. Feel the power! And make sure to use your power for good.
Pacifist? Guns not your thing? Get on out to your local sports complex or batting range and crack a few balls in the cage. Nothing says “venting your emotions” like thrashing a big club around while things fly at your head (please wear a helmet, I don’t want to hear stories of you doing your best Happy Gilmore impression).

Tip #3 – Get Lost In A Crowd:
If you prefer the company of others but don’t want to be spotted by someone you know or singled out, its time to get touristy. Locate the nearest hot sight seeing destination and tag along with an unassuming tour group. Something I’ve always wanted to try, but never have, is hopping on one of the unsightly double-decker tour buses that circulate through the streets of New York. There’s no way in hell I’d run into someone I knew there, I’d just sit back and ride, and maybe I’d learn a thing or two about the Big Apple. It never hurts to get to know your city better, even the more touristy parts.

Finally, if you’re in the New York Metropolitan area, here are a few places you can go it alone, and the optimum times to be there, courtesy of Time Out NY:

Where: Governors Island, optimal time: Saturday, 11 AM
Why: Accessible only by ferry or water taxi, populated sparsely by old barracks and centuries of history, free concerts on Saturdays in the summer.

Where: Lotus Garden (W 97th btw Broadway and West End Ave., optimal time: Sunday, 1 PM
Why: Hidden on top of a parking garage on the UWS, two koi ponds, no radios, pets, parties, or sunbathing allowed in order to keep the quiet.

Where: Minetta Street (between Bleeker St. and Minetta Ln.)
Why: No businesses, no sidewalk traffic, ust a picturesque lane with a hairpin turn.

Where: General Theology Seminary, optimal time: Wednesday, 4 PM
Why: All religions (or none at all) welcome, home of “the Close,” a 180-year-old religious academy’s tranquil garden courtyard. No entrance fees, just a quad like inner campus with plenty of seating.

Where: Inwood Hill Park, optimal times: Saturday, 8 AM/Tuesday 11:30 AM
Why: 196 acres of the only remaining true natural forest in Manhattan, wildflowers, bald eagles, the last remaining salt marsh in the Big Apple, and a glimpse of how NYC looked before it was settled.

Jen Gets It Together Part 4
A weekly series about losing your way and finding yourself.

Let me paint a scenario for you: You find yourself suddenly single. Ok that was a little harsh…lets try this again. You, the beautiful person that you are, had the misfortune of dating someone who didn’t realize how amazing you really are and even though you clearly were too good for them, you’re stuck in the situation you were dealt. The time you’d devoted solely to your significant other is abruptly freed up and you’re shocked to see just how much of your daily life you devoted to them without realizing it. Now there’s a hole. Where do you go from here? There’s only so much couch surfing one can tolerate before the waves give out and your cushioned surfboard stands still in an open sea of blasé infomercials about things called Snuggies and ShamWows.

Getting back into a groove is a difficult task when you’ve previously devoted the top spots in your schedule to “date nighst” and counted on spontaneous rendez-vous for your excitement injections each week. When trysts are no longer an option, its time to restructure and reschedule.

I’m a firm believer that keeping busy is the key to moving through a break up smoothly. Following my last breakup, I first sought to fill the “holes” in my life. I needed something to look forward to so I wasn’t constantly focused on what I wasn’t doing with certain someones who were no longer there.

Step 1: I found myself a transitional object. For those not in the psychological know (read: everyone not currently studying psychology or pretentiously picking up terminology such as myself), a transitional object in the context of an ending relationship is something, such as a book or a band, that bears ties to your past relationship, that you can focus on. Subconsciously this object provides a familiar comfort through its attachments to old memories, consciously, its something to hold your focus outside of past pained memories that might be annoyingly buzzing around your mind, picking on you. In the past my transitional objects have usually been musical influences introduced to me by the boys in my life. This go around it was a series of books, which my latest ex introduced me to that I’ve devoured hungrily. Eventually the passion for the transitional object wears off and you find yourself letting go of the past along with your latest craze.

Step 2: I poured through every remotely interesting website and lifestyle magazine, searching out anything connected to my personal interests. Using this newfangled source, the “internet” I began to compile a schedule of events to keep myself busy for the next, oh, say, three months (and counting). I started with upcoming events at all the film centers around me. For example, I compiled a list of films I’ve been wanting to see. For all you NYC cinephiles, I highly recommend investigating the IFC Center, the Landmark Sunshine Theater, and the Anjelika Film Center for a vast variety of theme events and rare films hard to find elsewhere. Joining meet up groups is also a great way to fill gaps in your schedule. Meetup.com is a fantastic resource in finding people near you who organize groups for every imaginable interest from local Foodies to sports enthusiasts, to Elvis Appreciation Societies. Meetup.com also conveniently spans the entire country, so for you out of towners out there, try searching out something local for yourself. Don’t see a group you’re looking for? Start one! It doesn’t hurt to try and attract like minded individuals. You never know who you’ll meet!

Step 3: Fall back on the company of friends. In my last entry I talked about how your friends can’t always handle advising on the hardships one faces in a tough break up. But that doesn’t mean you should avoid them or think they won’t be great company and a comfort when you’re feeling lonely. It definitely doesn’t hurt to call on your friends for a night out. It gets you out of the house and into the presence of people who you can surround yourself with, safe people who know you and your needs. And a good friend is always willing to help mock the shortcomings of your departed relationship, or, if they never knew them, they’re always happy to help invent stories about them that never happened, just to make you laugh. You’re a lot less likely to have a regrettable rebound with a good friend, and when you’re hurt and vulnerable, you need to surround yourself with people who would rather jump in front of a bus than bring harm to you.

Jen Gets It Together, Part 3
A weekly series about losing your way and finding yourself.

The greatest enemy in the aftermath of a breakup is one’s own mind. It picks on you, it plays tricks on you, its downright mean. Sometimes it simply tells you you’re a failure. Sometimes it convinces you that getting up off the couch isn’t worth it. Sometimes it just won’t stay quiet, especially when you’re trying to fall asleep.

When I find myself in a dark place, lacking the motivation to get myself active and undertaking things to keep my mind occupied, a feedback loop coming dangerously close to resembling depression can crop up. Elizabeth Gilbert personifies these feelings best in her book, Eat Pray Love, when she finds herself face to face with her two personal thugs, Depression and Loneliness:

They come upon me all silent and menacing like Pinkerton Detectives, and they flank me - Depression on my left, Loneliness on my right. They don't need to show me their badges. I know these guys very well…

Then they frisk me. They empty my pockets of any joy I had been carrying there. Depression even confiscates my identity; but he always does that. Then Loneliness starts interrogating me, which I dread because it always goes on for hours. He's polite but relentless, and he always trips me up eventually. He asks if I have any reason to be happy that I know of. He asks why I am all by myself tonight, yet again. He asks (though we've been through this line of questioning hundreds of times already) why I can't keep a relationship going, why I ruined my marriage, why I messed things up with David, why I messed things up with every man I've ever been with...He asks why I can't get my act together and why I'm not at home living in a nice house and raising nice children like any respectable woman my age should be. He asks why, exactly, I think I deserve a vacation in Rome when I've made such a rubble of my life. He asks me why I think that running away to Italy like a college kid will make me happy. He asks where I think I'll end up on my old age, if I keep living this way.”

For the record, I think every woman who has experienced heartache should read this book, especially if they’re currently experiencing.

For all the times I’ve tried to put a pillow over my head and silence my over-productive mind, I never found a solution that brought me peace of mind. It was during one of these feedback loops that I finally picked myself up, dusted myself off, and sought help. I just couldn’t do it alone anymore. I picked up the phone, and called a therapist. This brings me to my first tip:

Tip #1: When times are tough, do not be afraid to seek help.
It’s taken me a while to learn this, but friends can’t and don’t want to always help you through the hard times. This doesn’t make them terrible friends, it doesn’t make them particularly selfish, it just means that what’s troubling you is too big for them to shoulder. Therapy, unfortunately, carries a negative stigma. Many people feel that admitting you need therapy is tantamount to admitting you’re insane, that therapists are only in it for the money, that they’ll just put you on drugs instead helping you, or that everyone will judge you or worse, avoid you. I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t have to be that way. But, you have to be careful. Just like any other profession, there are good therapists and there are not so good therapists. You have to shop around. It’s also good to have an idea of what you want in a therapist. There are therapists who stress medicating patients, there are therapists who aren’t qualified to write prescriptions (I happen to favor these therapists because they tend to think outside the box), there are art therapists who have you express yourself creatively to reveal your psyche, there are therapists who use hypnosis to help free up your subconscious, there are therapists who work with you energetically, there are therapists who just listen while you do all the talking, and there are therapists who specialize in any and every aspect of life you can think of, from those who focus on pet loss, to sex counselors. There is a different flavor of therapist for everyone; find one that suits your specific needs. The right kind of therapist can change your life for the better. Can't afford therapy? Think again. There are therapy groups that will charge you based on a sliding scale and if you live near a college, you can often find a free or low priced therapist through a practicing psychology student. These students need to build a patient base and often the college organizes a low price/free facility for them to see patients.

Tip #2: Hypnosis – not just for high school assemblies anymore.
Hypnosis is another misunderstood tool of mental healing that has taboos attached to it. However, it can be an extremely powerful tool in healing. There are several different hypnosis techniques but I am going to focus on Eriksonian hypnosis. Eriksonian hypnosis is unique in that you remain conscious throughout the entire process. The patient sits comfortably in a chair while the hypnotist talks in a calm voice, using metaphors to guide the patient’s into a conscious trance, where the subconscious learns to associate with therapeutic techniques. The will usually remember all that is said by the hypnotist as well as maintain an ability to react to events and stimuli around them. I recall my mind, having a rather chatty conversation with itself, wondering if I was entering a trance or not, then telling itself to shush or I’d never get into a trance state and finally deciding hypnosis was futile to an over-thinker such as myself. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Eriksonian hypnosis is ideal for those caught up in their head. While the conscious mind is distracted, the subconscious sneaks out to play, absorbing new therapeutic strategies. Is it for everyone? Probably not, but following my first hypnosis experience I felt I could hug everyone. It was a dramatic improvement from my previous state of mind, even in the face of a particularly stressful period of life.

Tip #3: Open your mind to energy healing.
The world of energy healing is ridiculously vast. Some techniques are more dramatically effective than others, but it’s all worth doing a little research. I personally recommend seeking out either Reiki or Reflexology. Reiki, a technique born out of Japan is exceptionally helpful in reducing stress and releasing anxiety. The best part of working with a Reiki master is, once you have your first session, you are able to perform Reiki on yourself. This has come in handy multiple times while I’m lying wide awake at night and need help relaxing. Just a few minutes of performing Reiki on myself and I’m ready to pass out.
Reflexology is a little less theoretical for you skeptics out there. The technique involves working with pressure points throughout the body, focusing on the feet foremost, and the hands and head secondarily. Reflexology can help with a wide range of issues including physical as well as mental ailments. I’ve seen it used to help everything from anxiety by focusing on pressure points pertaining to the nervous system to increasing circulation in an atrophied hand by focusing on pressure points of the circulatory system. A well trained reflexologist can also recommend pressure points you can work on in your own time, giving the patient their own therapeutic knowledge.

I know by now at least a few of you are wondering if I’ve turned into a tree hugging hippy and whether I plan on moving to a commune and making my own soap any time soon. But I tell you, when you’re like me and are no fan of relying on pharmaceuticals and are tired of feeling like the bottom of someone’s shoe, you start looking for effective alternatives. I’ve sampled a wide range of alternative healing methods, much in thanks to my mother’s own searching, and I will swear here and now, the tips I’m listing work. I’ve even born witness to some of the hardest skeptics soften to these methods. You never know until you try…

I've been experiencing quite a bit of creative energy, possibly inspired by newly found free time in singledom, so I've begun an ambitious set of projects and new found interests to keep busy.

As I'm sure you've noticed if you're reading this, I've started an advice column series through various blog postings. I've always enjoyed writing and have a ridiculous amount of useless tips and knowledge so I figured I'd put them out for the general public to digest. At the very least its been a good personal exercise.

A friend turned me on to Bryan Lee O'Mally's Scott Pilgrim series of indie comics and I'm absolutely hooked. Its amazing how a simple comical story of hipsters, relationships, and Toronto can be so highly addicting. Its inspired some fan art on occasion and I'm working on my drawing technique thanks to the new inspiration. Its also kicked off an interest in comics in general and I'm attending my first Comic Con this year. Meanwhile I've delved into a little bit of Alan Moore and Daniel Clowes to brush up on some of the modern comic classics. This in turn has revealed two fun facts: it turns out quite a few of my friends are as awesomely nerdy as I am, and a friend of a friend of mine seems to be what Kevin Bacon is to movie stars. In other words, every time I start to follow an artist/writer in the comic world, they seem to invariably lead back to a writer and photographer I know commonly as Xtop, a man I've never met but feel weirdly familiar with since I first heard of him through an old mutual acquaintance.

I booked my first audio engineering freelance gig in almost two years, and its the first I booked on my own. Its for a short comedy/horror film and I start work tomorrow! It'll be good to stretch my legs in the audio realm and get creative again. I look forward to the journey.

Jen Gets It Together, Part 2
A weekly series about losing your way and finding yourself.

When I go through a break up, my first instinct is to forego all preening and beautifying routines in lieu of comfy pajamas and fatty food. All those snacks on the job that I’d usually snub my nose at suddenly were being given pardons for their societal contributions of distracting my distraught mind. Pizza bagel bites become medicinal in my time of need. I think we deserve at least a little indulgence when we’re feeling heartbroken. It’s not just the eating that I let slide, either. When I don’t have someone to impress, I stop taking care of myself. I let my skin dry out and wither, I stop long overwrought bathroom ceremonies involving good smelling creams and soaps, I abandon my razor and tweezers, sometimes, dare I say it, I skip showers! Terrible, I know. Maybe it’s laziness, maybe depression, or maybe its revenge for what I put myself through over a guy who ultimately didn’t stick around. For whatever reason, it happens.

The thing is, you can’t let this go on for too long without starting to feel and see the effects. That is, unless you’re one of those lucky people who can eat whatever you want, when you want, in which case, can I borrow some of your genes? No? Ok, it was worth a shot.

But I’ve always been one who responds well to taking on projects, especially when my mind needs distraction. I figured the easiest project I could take on was myself. Step 1? Look as damn good as I possibly can. No one should need someone else in their life as an excuse to take care of their self. We as a society constantly fear the ego involved in self love. We’re terrified of appearing selfish. But those that spend their lives fearing this are generally the kinds of people who aren’t given to selfishness. Their hearts are already in the right place. Furthermore, human beings by nature are selfish. If we spent all our time worrying about the feelings of others, when would we have the time to feel happy? Being selfish doesn’t mean we have to hurt others in the process. It just means we take the time to care for ourselves.

I singled out a set of physical issues I could improve without making myself miserable: body tone and weight loss, skin care, renewing my look. I love good food and while I generally eat healthy, I have never been good with dieting. Pizza bagel bites still show up at work and rather than punish myself by denying myself a handful, I’ve sought out alternatives that allow me indulgences. After all, I’m doing this to keep me busy and happy, not to make me miserable with restrictions and rules.

Tip #1: Join a gym. You don’t have to eat salads every day for six months to lose weight. But you do have to do something to account for your caloric, fat, and sugar, intake. Regular exercise is the best way to lose weight and tone the body. If you’re concerned about cost, I’m here to tell you, its not that bad. I joined Lucille Roberts for $20/month after shopping around and examining my options. Seek out gyms that have join up specials, see if they can cut you a deal, and make sure you know about every package they offer, you might be surprised how low the membership fee is. No gyms around you? Look for YMCAs or YWCAs. They offer a variety of classes, pool access, and a traditional gym, along with day care facilities for you moms out there. A change in routine like this can be a bit of a nuisance at first, but once you get into the routine, I guarantee you won’t find it a hassle. Your best bet is a combination of cardio and weight training. Get creative, take dance classes, try out the scary looking weight machine in the corner. Just make sure to ask an employee at the gym to show you how to use it, lets not rip our arms off in the pursuit of sexier biceps.

Tip #2: The two best diet tips that don’t involve dieting are flax seed oil and apple cider vinegar. Uncooked, flax seeds are the best kept secret in looking and feeling good. Thanks to its abundance of omega-3 fatty acids (also found in certain foods such as salmon), a tablespoon a day will help you with everything from lowering cholesterol to hypertension, asthma, arthritis, clears up acne, softens chapped lips, fights breast cancer, and helps relieve depression. It can be mixed into anything (its flavorless), just make sure you don’t cook it, as that ruins its health benefits.
Apple cider vinegar helps regulate the “environment” in your stomach. Much of one’s health is regulated by the digestive system so if you take care of that, the rest of your body follows. It helps prevent acid reflux, lowers cholesterol, reduces candida yeast, helps with allergies, speeds up metabolism, and may possibly do your taxes for you.
I take a tablespoon of each of these per day and its done wonders for improving my health.

Tip #3: Mud and salt are the secret to perfect skin. There are thousands of skin products out there and if you’re like me with unbearably sensitive skin, you go through a lot of misery trying to find something that won’t end up peeling off your face or drying it out. Luckily, I finally found a few things that have helped add a little luster to my evil combo nightmare skin.
Seaora purifying mud mask is a god sent in facial cleansing. In addition to sucking out the impurities on your face, it returns nutrients to it while moisturizing, so you don’t get that dried out feeling once it washes off. Its made mostly from natural oils and ingredients and it doesn’t burn sensitive skin.
Trillium Organics body polish is the best exfoliant I’ve ever found. It’s a mixture of salt and natural oils that you rub into your skin either dry or in the shower. The rough sea salt scratches away dead skin but also acts as an antiseptic and therapeutic mineral for the new skin beneath. The natural oils all have different functions from moisturizing to working as antioxidants. Using it leaves my skin soft to the touch and flake free in the coldest weather.

Tip #4: Get yourself done up. When I’m feeling particularly self deprecating, I make an appointment at the neighborhood salon. I’m not usually one for particularly girly ventures, but it really puts me in better spirits to head to a salon where the hairdresser knows my name and my relationship history and is all too happy to hand me a complimentary glass of champagne on the house. If you’re in the New York City area, I highly recommend heading to Lift Hair Studio and ask for Asia. For the upscale Manhattan chic touch, try out one of the Vidal Sassoon locations.

Now go out and give yourself some love!

Jen Gets It Together, Part 1
A weekly series about losing your way and finding yourself.

Break ups are terrible. They never seem to sting any less, no matter how miserable you try to make yourself before the words “We need to talk…” ever leave your or your partner’s lips. In high school, such rituals could be so debilitating to me, I’d be found three days later, curled in the fetal position, repeating some meaningful phrase such as “You did the best you can…” over and over under my breath.
Graduating into adulthood, it’s my inner child that’s panicked and whimpering in the darker depths of my heart. Outwardly, after a day or two, I can at least function as a dry-eyed, productive member of society. Inwardly I’m filled with the same doubts every time. “What if I never find someone again?” or “What if I never feel this way about someone again?” or “I wasn’t good enough to date him, will I ever be good enough to date anyone?”

Putting myself on trial is generally necessary to shake these accusations. My inner District Attorney prosecutes my fears, demanding evidence that I was in fact the reason the relationship ended, and to what degree I was a party to the crime of a broken heart. I usually win these trials, but its taxing to be taken to court, so shaken by being put on the stand, made to relive the dramatic turn of events that brought me there.

So while my inner psyche is busy organizing and building its case, I’ve learned to keep my consciousness occupied. Trial proceedings, after all, can be extremely boring, so its better to keep busy than wait it out, right?

Well, for all intents and purposes, the correct answer for this exercise is “Right.”

So while my subconscious goes to court in the landmark case of People v. Jen’s Innermost Fears and Depression, I’d like to talk about how I’m getting my life back together.

I think one of the worst parts of a break up is how your routines are completely disrupted. You no longer have dates to look forward to, that person waiting for you at the end of the week, nor the possibility of a spontaneous tryst mid-week. Nothing exists where so many hopes and plans used to be. And as you sail slowly through the week, you are continuously reminded that come Friday night, no one’s taking you out to see that movie you wanted to see or visit that museum you always wanted to go to.

Some people are glad they can finally sleep in and spend some alone time. But if you’re not one of those people, don’t worry about celebrating the sudden burst of you-time you’ve gained. If you’re feeling a void, it doesn’t matter how much good is gained. We forget we have a right to grieve for as long as we need. There’s no wrong way to go about healing, it’s only important that you let yourself heal.

This is where important things like keeping busy come in. At a point, you have to leave the trial to your subconscious and take care of yourself. When you lose a partner, you lose the person who reflected care, or even love, back at you. For some, this creates the illusion that you are not lovable, or that you do not deserve love. Obviously, you, me, and most decent people out there, deserve love and its most abundant source should be from the self. So to make up from the sudden shock of the loss of one who reflects the love you deserve, its important to give yourself a little extra time and care. Get it together, so to speak, and get yourself functioning as the shining person you know you ought to be. Learn to enjoy life again.

In the coming weeks, I’m going to write about how I’m getting it together. A year has passed since “the big one” ended, and yet I found myself in the exact same place come New Years. Heartache and loneliness are no way to go through life, my friends, and I’m pretty sick and tired of it. Since “the hurt” never seems to get any easier, my weapons to fight it need to improve. I think I’m getting better (though I’m certainly still learning) at going through “the hurt.” So I figured, if I’m going on a journey of self-discovery such as getting it back together, I might as well bring a few friends with me. So if you’re game, tune in next week and I’ll start spilling my secrets on getting it together.

I had an exceptional Saturday, better than most, making me realize how much this city really does have to offer:

1) Discount Halloween shopping - I met my good friends for a collective bargain hunt of discount Halloween clothes for our group costume project, in the Union Square area. In addition to bargain superstores such as Filene's Basement and Forever 21, there are some great Halloween shops, including Ricky's, your friendly neighborhood chain holiday junk shop, and Halloween Adventure, a Halloween superstore providing costumes, wigs, props, accessories, and a scale model Han Solo frozen in carbonite (my favorite!).

2) Zombiecon - My friends were late to meet me due to there being a zombie congestion in the subways. Zombiecon is a gathering of the area's zombies to march peacefully in the name of performance art and brains. They march from 34th Street, Penn Station, down to Union Square, where I spotted them parading through the Greenmarket. Later on at Halloween Adventure, we were blocked from the door due to the zombie invasion pouring through the doorway onto the sidewalk. My coworker was partaking in the event, and when he exited the door I flagged him down. He broke character to report on the festivities thus far, then gave me a kiss on the cheek goodbye, effectively covering my face with sticky fake blood. My first zombie attack! Hooray!

3) Good Food - Off I raced to Chez Josephine to meet MR and his parentals for an early pre-theater meal. Chez Josephine, named for French icon Josephine Baker, offers the best in French comfort food to the gourmet diner on the go. They specialize in rushing their customers in and out in time for their matinees and shows. I helped myself to fried oysters and rack of lamb, a kir royale and strawberry-rhubarb crepe cake before skipping off to the show.

4) Broadway - I will always have a soft spot for a good Broadway show. Saturday I had the pleasure of seeing Spring Awakening, a coming of age rock musical following German youths of the late 1800s living under a stifling conservative-religious adult reign, discovering themselves as sexual, emotional, curious and growing individuals. The music is some of the best I've ever heard in a rock/pop musical, at times so incredibly moving that I was at one point brought to tears. The young cast so completely and honestly brings out their youthful characters, so well acted with so much depth that I was fixated and fascinated from start to finish. Truly deserving of the seven Tonys won.

5) Late Night Art Openings - After the show, I raced down to 33rd between 10th and 11th Aves. to Last Rites Gallery to see the illustrious Carrie Ann Baade debut her beautiful new painting, All Hail Queen Bitch. I am a huge fan of Carrie's art, as well as much of the art that accompanies the shows she's a part of. Carrie is a beautiful person with immense talent and wisdom to share, and though our visit was brief, I felt rejuvenated and joyful as I kissed the midnight air of New York City.

The forecast for Sunday was high 60s and sunny. So you can imagine my dismay when I awoke at 5 AM the day of the MS Ride to find it was drizzling, cold, and miserable. But as I slipped into my spandex and exited, I couldn't help but feel the buzz of excitement behind this ride, building in me. The drizzle was pretty light, so I pressed on, arriving to the start line around 6:30 AM.

As I was exiting the subway to walk across town to the West Side Highway, the rain started to pick up. By the time I entered the MS Ride encampment, it was outright pouring. I had thankfully grabbed my cycling jacket, which provided some protection from the wind and rain, but I was still decked out in shorts and shoes not built for keeping water out. By the time I had traded in for my MVP bib, and stepped up to the start line, I was soaked. And then we waited.

About 45 minutes later, I had chomped down my complimentary bagel and apple breakfast, cursed the weather about ten times, rubbed my arms about twenty times, and had begun to obsessively shake the water off my helmet, which came off in sheets. At some point during this shaky dance of mine, I managed to pull a muscle in my shoulder. So while a representative of Crunch Fitness warmed us all up for the ride, I did my best to work out my kinks while praying stiffly for the rain to end.
I lucked out in that since I was going for the 60-mile ride, I was allowed to line up in the front of the 4,0000-5,000 rider pack. And because I arrived to early, I was right up, maybe second or third from the front. I chatted a bit with the people around me. When you're in a miserable situation voluntarily, it becomes really easy to make friends because everyone is happily sharing this nasty experience along with you. The feeling is the opposite of alone.

After what seemed like an eternity of back patting, star spangled banners, opening ceremonies, thankings of everyone from Bloomberg to the department of transportation, we were finally off. Everyone set off in unison. No one cut anyone else off, no one (for the most part) fell, no one pushed, shoved, or yelled. We all moved like one beast, totally in sync with one another. When the front slowed, a relay of shouts followed the crowd back, as we all applied our brakes evenly. We all turned at the same moment, we all quickened equally, and as we sailed through the Brooklyn-Battery tunnel, a chorus of whoops and shouts arose and reverberated out from either side.

Being a medium rider, I have a slight advantage, in that the fast reckless riders will take off and leave me behind, and the slow riders I can easily outrun. What I end up with is my own stretch of road, without much fear of being overcrowded or pushed into the lane with too much scree, or over the deep pot hole. So for much of the ride up the FDR drive, I was able to take my time, never getting sucked back into the slow group, nor catching up with the fast group, enjoying the scenery as it rapidly changed before me. At one point, as I was sidling up to the left lane of the highway, an oncoming car in the neighboring lane raced through what must have been the mother of all puddles. I veritable tidal wave washed over me, soaking whatever possible dry patch that might have existed before. The wash was so epic, it prompted, "Are you ok?" commentary from several riders. But I shook it off and continued on, shouting "YEAH!" in response.

As we neared Randall's Island, we began to come across walkers for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, a weekend of fund raising racers taking on an equally, if not greater cause. They began cheering for us cyclists as we passed and we in turn shouted praise toward them. I imagined my roommate, MN might be somewhere in the fray, as she works for Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, and I imagined myself cheering her on as she did the same.

Rest Stop #1 lay at the very top of Manhattan, in Inwood's vast park territory. There, they greeted us with power bars and promotional water and energy drinks. None too exciting, and after 20 miles, I was ready to keep on going, so I paused briefly for a photo op before joining the growing group of cyclists being held for the next leg. Because we are allowed to ride on the open highway, free of cars, the police halt the bicycle traffic until a specific time pre-arranged with the city. We were just a bit early, so we all lined up and waited together, much like at the start line. Once they let us go we were off and racing towards the West Side highway.

A beautiful moment found me racing out from tree cover, a down hill stretch of highway, whose view opens up suddenly to reveal all of Manhattan before you. The rain had ceased and the clouds were now light and shining, an Autumn sun thinly veiled behind them. The city was still very much at peace at this early hour, and as my wheels picked up speed, I felt such freedom. All I could think was, "This is where I belong."

As I rounded off mile 30, the route took me to a line waiting to be let in to the Lincoln Tunnel. Up until this point, I had been wondering if I should cut my journey short and head in to the warm awaiting arms of base camp. After all, my soaking wet frozen feet were almost void of feeling, and I wasn't feeling all too warm on much of the 30-mile circuit around Manhattan. But could I really say no to the ride through the Lincoln Tunnel? How often do I get an opportunity like that?

So onward I pressed. Just before the gaping mouth of the tunnel, an elderly gentleman stopped us to let us know that they would not tolerate us crashing and dying, so no horsing around! Then off we shot. I was warned to make sure I picked up momentum in the tunnel, because the far side's climb was no picnick. But as I pedaled to pick up speed, I realized my efforts were useless. I had topped a speed so fast that any additional pedaling had no affect on spinning my wheels. You don't realize how bowed the Lincoln Tunnel is until you're riding through it on pure momentum and muscle power. The climb, while unpleasant, wasn't the impossible feat I thought it would be, and I emerged unscathed, in New Jersey.

A quick left, left, and I was nestled in to Rest Stop #2. Vendor booths hocked the latest in protein bar technology, and I daringly sampled a peanut butter and jelly graham cracker bar - I do NOT recommend these things. I borrowed a few napkins to help dry out my saddle bag, which at this point had soaked clean through and was washing down my camera and phone in ways I had hoped it wouldn't. Luckily, the technology was unscathed, damp as it was.

Heading forward, I began riding up through NJ into Englewood Cliffs. At the top of the first challenging hill, we made a hard right, bringing us through the Palisades - an Interstate Park lining the cliffs looking down into the Hudson. The ride was beautiful to be sure, but I was unable to photograph much of anything due to the fact that the Palisades are home to the most difficult hills I've ever climbed in my life. I found myself cheering myself on between huffing and puffing like an out of shape jogger. "You can do it Jen, almost there, just a little more..." and then I'd be at the top and congratulating myself as I flew down the other side, only to climb once again. The final hill of the Palisades is an evil 1.8 mile climb upward. Steep, menacing, painful, I at one point became so unsure of my knees' ability to continue, I dismounted and began walking. I was not the only rider with this brilliant idea. After some time, I began to hear the traffic of 9W, remounted and drove myself up the rest of the way, ecstatic when finally I reached the top.

Not far after that, the final rest stop welcomed me with open arms. I was so thoroughly worked from this leg that I was famished. I spotted a container of sandwiches with a sign reading "100 Mile" under it. But looking at the fare offered us 60 milers - power bars, orange slices - I made a quick grab for a turkey sandwich and shoved it quickly into my mouth. Its not like we're marked for mileage but I was convinced at any moment a chaperone would approach me and demand I return the sandwich.

Satiated and rested, I pulled out of Rest Stop #3 - appropriated named Alpine Kiku - and began the return journey. The ride back wasn't nearly as evil. We had a relatively flat run, riding the shoulder of 9W, while cars passed us confused at the sight of these strange people in spandex riding through auto country. Our route took a strange detour through residential neighborhoods of epic proportions. I joked with a fellow rider that this was the portion of the ride sponsored by the local NJ real estate market, as it was nothing but enormous McMansions by the dozen, placed I'd love to live, if I had a zillion (give or take a few) dollars. Then again, you can't beat the location, so close to the GWB.

The final leg took us sailing over the George Washington Bridge, using the pedestrian walkway. I snagged a few last snapshots of Manhattan before racing over and down, finally arriving back at base camp to the cheers and encouragement of the staff (so nice a thing to return to).

Because I'd raised so much for the MS Society, I was rewarded with entry to the MVP lounge. I had to laugh a bit under my breath, the differences between MVP and regular were so vast that it was almost comical. In the lounge I was treated to white leather couches, gourmet sandwiches, and even a chocolate fountain complete with all manor of dipping choices from fruit to pretzels. In contrast, the regular rider area consisted of a large swatch of AstroTurf, with snacks scattered around a vendor fair. I lived it up with a glass of Trader Joe's wine, before calling it a day. I could've stayed indefinitely, waiting for my turn with a masseuse, but I had grown so exhausted from the ride that I feared I might be asleep on a couch by the time a slot opened up. Better to call it a day while I was still alert and able.

This was definitely the ride of the year for me. The overwhelming feelings of accomplishment, self fulfillment, appreciation, and ability have left me feeling so warm and wonderful. The support my friends and family gave me from the beginning to the end of my fund raising and ride journey was been overwhelming, and a reminder of how my life is filled with loving caring wonderful people. The gifts this experience has given me are wonderful and I can't thank everyone involved enough. It was an experience of a lifetime.

Goodness gracious, where did the whole of September go??

I've been terrible with my training. I admit it. The weeks have been flying by and one thing after the next has crept up in the way. This week I'm switching into supergirl mode, hitting the gym every night, eating well, sleeping well, not partying like its 1999...you know, the usual.

I finally managed to get a training ride in today, despite the muggy dampness and occasional periods of drizzle that permeated throughout. I was doing fine until I attempted to get over the George Washington Bridge. How the hell do you get on there?? I must have circled the thing five times and found no on ramp, no clear sign, NOTHING. I know its there, people, why are you making it so difficult?
Aw it doesn't even matter. I'll be sailing over it coming in from NJ on ride day. I'll show them all!
After my long detour lost throughout Riverside Park (I wound up finding Grant's Tomb, which I never knew the whereabouts of nor what it looked like), Riverside Drive, and parts of the Colombia College campus, I shook off the loss and headed over to the West Side Highway and began my return trip home. Unfortunately, around 132nd Street, I began to hear a hissing sound, stopped, and extracted a chunk of glass from my front tire. Damn. I raced through the drive to its brief detour over 12th Ave. to 125th St., took stock of my surroundings, cursed my lack of preparedness in not bringing a spare tube with me despite the fact that I have one, and set to jumping on the 1 train.

Luckily, having been an employee of Metro Bicycles for two years, I had a mental map of all of their convenient locations embedded in my mind, one of which was right off the 1 subway stop on 96th St. In I burst and...recognized no one. I had no cash on me and was silently cringing at being one of those people requesting a front flat change when I had a plethora of memories mocking those who knew nothing of tire changing. But I wanted to get up and go as fast as possible so I bit the bullet and approached the mechanic's area. But yes! A familiar face in the eldest mechanic! I asked if they were busy, he shook his head no and I requested a customer tune up and pointed out my front flat issue. He was a veteran of the 14th Street shop and we chatted a bit about new and old employees, what I've been doing since I left the Metro family, my 60 mile endeavor next week, anything that came to mind. I struck up a conversation with one of the new recruits to the Metro family, who took an interest in my work in post production. He concluded there was, in fact, hope for all us part time retail bicycle shop employees.
Meanwhile, my orange monster was knocked back into shape, with a new tube firmly inflated to carry me away, and the mechanic even gave me a break and sent me on my way for free, tire change included in the tune up. I love those people, they're good to the core.

After that, it was a hop through Central Park, a skip over 59th Street, and a jump across the Queensborough Bridge and I was back at home, a bit covered in street grime and damn from the rain, but safe and sound. I had a scare early on in this ride, fishtailing for the first time in my biking history. I don't know how it happened or how I managed to safely come to a stop when it happened. Fishtailing on a two wheel vehicle is NOT something I'd recommend.

I'm finding myself not the mess of out of shape laziness I thought I was. I suppose my muscles remember the long rides I've been putting them through and adapt accordingly. I'm finding hills are easier to conquer, and my understanding of gear shifting for optimal performance has expanded profoundly. I think I will be OK when it comes to ride day.

All I need to do now is make sure I don't wake up with bronchitis on Saturday...again.

Oh, and one more thing...I'm $104.75 away from hitting one thousand dollars!!!

This is shaping up to be an amazing October already...

And here is the honor roll!

In case you managed to avoid the e-mails, the Facebook messages, the notes, AND my status update which changed every five minutes or so, I reached my goal today! I really can't express how thankful I am to everyone who has participated in my first fund raising attempt. I'm shocked that I was able to reach such a seemingly unattainable goal in so short a period of time. But I underestimated you, my friends, and family. You came out and supported me in droves.

So, in celebration of reaching my goal, I've done the most sensible thing: raise it. The bar now rests at $700, and should a miracle happen and I reach that goal, I'll raise it again. I hope no one takes this as an insult after they came so willingly to support me, this is in no way meant to make petty what has already been generously given. I just don't believe in giving up just yet. I think more good can be done, more help can be given, and I promise not to simply give up once I reach the first rest stop.

On the training front, I still haven't been on a bicycle since my ride in August. Yeah yeah, I know, lazy Jen, but I've been busy, I swear! I plan on changing this come the weekend, with a cycling trip to Red Hook, where I hope to sample the famous dumplings at Good Fork while on my run. Oh yes, I have plans.

In other news, I plan on sending out care packages and/or buying drinks to the top five people who donate, so tell your friends and family, there's cookies and booze to be won!

Look! A fun little thermometer to show how far along I've come!

I've just passed the 40% mark now, inching my way towards 50%, and all because of you, dear reader!

I have decided I feel awkward and insecure raising money. I believe in the cause, for sure, and a year of being a telemarketer should have made me more comfortable with asking people for money, but no. I'm feeling awkward and overbearing. Its a fine line between thoroughly covering my bases and reaching out, and spamming the hell out of my friends and family.

But I've enlisted the help of a good friend, SW, and she's really helped further the cause. Not only did she put her creative writing to good use in gathering her friends for support, but she created facebook group in my name and since she's done that, I've received 6 donations as a result. She gets a care package when this is all over.
I'm still keeping my fingers crossed to hit the big $500!

The regimen for the week calls for a trip to the gym before sailing off to Delaware for my father's wedding. At least I'll be in shape to fit into my dress! Hopefully, in the following weekend, I'll be able to take a training ride. I'm hoping for Redhook, since I haven't visited there yet and I'm still hoping to get in another staycation goal or two. To top it off I'll probably take another shot down to Coney, to see the forever closed Astroland in its ghost town glory.

We shall see what the future brings...

Alright, I've passed the $100 hump. That was the one I was really worried about, because if it wasn't reached by September 19th, I'd have to do some actual work and walk my donations down by hand to the National MS Society's office here. And I'm far too lazy for such outings.
But now that's taken care of. I keep scouring the website wondering if I was supposed to send them some sort of signal that I was there, and to please send me my riding materials post haste or I might explode, but it doesn't look that way, so now I wait.

I finally got back to the gym this weekend, to start working up my cardio again. I found that trips to the gym, especially the day before I'd do a long ride, always helped to keep me from aching and running out of steam too quickly.
However, I've been on gym hiatus since my Northfork excursion. Because of my sickness, then a quick vacation to Maine, and generally busyness, I haven't had time nor motivation to return to my workout haven. I also haven't touched the bike since Northfork. All of this is cause for concern. But we all have to crawl before we walk, so back to the gym I went. I decided to try a new setting on the elyptical machine. "Random" seemed to be an appealing challenge to my workout. But what I didn't realize is that "Random" causes you to jump from a nice easy level like 4, to a level I didn't know existed. How can they put a level 18 on an exercise machine!? What purpose does it serve? I could not move the freaking levers to operate a full rotation! The machine had bested me that day.

I'm generally alarmed to find that my cardio ability has depleted substantially in the last two weeks. It took me about three months to build up muscle and cardio and just two weeks and I'm back to weak little defenseless jenrock. How did this happen!? Even more alarming was that my lungs were generally tight and resistant to any sort of deep breathing. I think they're still mad at me for putting them through Northfork in their condition.

Luckily, by day two of the gym, my body seems to have accepted the fact that it is required to stop being a lazy sod and get some exercise. So I'm not quite so panicked that I might start off on this ride and keel over at mile 10.

I'm a bit nervous about this ride. At 60 miles, its roughly 12 miles shorter than the monster I tackled for my first ride. However, Northfork is generally flat. This ride takes me out of the Manhattan comfort zone, through the Lincoln Tunnel, and up New Jersey for a bit. According to the ride description, the hills are steep. This is fine when I'm cruising downhill, but I am NOT looking forward to the climbs. I've always hated climbs, they stress my knees and generally take away any laziness I could maintain on a long bike ride. So for this, I'm going to have to up the ante on workouts and training. We'll see what happens...

I woke up at 3 AM. There are very few reasons I would ever wake up at 3 AM. A restless night. An early flight, maybe, although I try to avoid them. But usually, waking up at 3 AM is not a time I ever want to find myself awake. Even going to bed at 3 AM is a rarity for me.
But Saturday night I attempted to go to sleep at 7:30 PM and after some tossing and turning, was up immediately at 3 AM.

My throat was scratchy and my voice was gone. I knew it was coming, I didn't feel great Friday, woke up hoarse Saturday, and knew something was gone. But I'd been looking forward to this ride for weeks now. People doubted me. They didn't believe I could do 66 miles. I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted to prove it to myself.

So at 4:10 AM I found myself in spandex, standing on the southwest corner of Madison Square Garden, watching a drunk woman throw up into a planter box. And a homeless man with one arm, carrying a beer by its plastic cartilage over one shoulder, yelling at a rider who, it turned out, was a friend of my friend, meeting up for the bus ride out to Northfork, Long Island.

But I should go back. About a month and a half prior, a coworker of mine started to rally up excitement about a 66-mile bike ride out in wine country in Long Island. I thought to myself, "I could do this." I also thought I needed to go out with a bang this summer. So I signed up along with two coworkers and a client.

I've never done a long distance ride of any sort. I trained by kicking up my cardio at the gym, and by taking weekend rides to various destinations. But I only squeezed in two weekend rides by the time Northfork finally rolled around: one up the West Side Highway to Inwood, and one down to Coney Island. The longest I managed was 36 miles. In short, I wasn't sure I could handle the 66 miles. But I wanted to try and give it my all.

Unfortunately, the odds started to stack against me. Friday before the ride, I was feeling sick and woke up with all the symptoms of bronchitis the next day. I knew I was sick, I knew it'd be a bad idea to ride, but I did it anyway.

I was maintaining reasonably decent health, all things considered, as we rolled into the parking lot of the starting line. I approached my coworkers and croaked a good morning to them. They were shocked I had showed up. They kept asking me if I was sure I wanted to do this but I was without a doubt.

We rolled out around 8:30. My coworkers quickly set a brisk pace that had my face glowing red by mile 5. I kept up with them for about 15 miles, but lost them as we began rolling past back country vineyards. But I was never too far back. By rest stop #1, I was a mere five minutes lagging.

About halfway through I got slightly lost. I missed a turn at some point and continued to barrel forward. I was wondering why the route seemed so long with no markers, and the thought of turning around was painful. I was already aching. But then a miracle happened and I was spit out into the route again. However, I had missed rest stop #2 and my coworkers. I stopped and gave them a call, where they informed me I had missed the world's best pie. They told me to go on ahead and they'd catch me up. About half an hour later, they did.

I wasn't really doing well, my chest was tight and I was tiring, but I kept going. Despite missing the rest stop, I was thrown a bone when the route took us to an ice cream shop offering free ice cream to anyone with a ride wristband. I helped myself to chocolate soft serve in a cone, while I stretched my legs using a table. Then, back to the grind. This leg of the route was unfortunately about ten miles longer than the other two legs. I was cursing the people who pulled ahead of me in my thoughts. This kind of ride makes you go kind of crazy. You start thinking things like "Oooh, look at you and your $5,000 bike, oooh you can go so fast because it weights 2 lbs." and you begin to silently hate everyone faster than you. At one point, I noticed a turn off that cyclists were taking, coming from the other direction. As I went on I began to see all manor of participants returning from the other direction and as I trekked on, I began to be dismayed at how much ground I'd have to recover. And still I went on.

Finally I reached a goal: a state park at the end of which rest stop #3, the final rest stop. Two miles after that, I finally dismounted and walked straight for the food. I didn't see my coworkers, but didn't expect them either. But as I drew closer I heard someone yell my name and my coworker PD came running back from the beach where he had met up with his family. They were all there, had been spending some time resting up with their families before finishing the final 11 miles back to the start line. They were shocked I had made it. More than shocked, they had been placing bets I wouldn't make it, that I had taken that turn off I'd spotted miles before. But there I was. I received many high fives and fist bumps. PD's brother in law, who had been riding with us, offered me his asthma inhaler to help with my breathing.

The final rest stop had a wine tasting along with the usual fare of carb-boosters, foccacia bread, little packets of hummus, power bars, bananas, fresh picked strawberries, Gatorade, pound cake, Nutella, power shots. It was impressively bountiful. I had no appetite the entire ride, but kept feeding myself with goodies along the way knowing damn well I needed it. It was nice to have such a variety, though. I have a new found love of bananas.

I had my coworkers go along without me, as I needed a bit more time of rest. The ride back was grueling, I faced a headwind and found myself slowing drastically. I pressed on, though, resting when the aches in my joints became too much, and around 3 PM, pulled into the parking lot of the start/finish line. I was exhausted and not up for the BBQ going on to welcome the riders. I leaned against a van in the shade with my coworkers and knocked back a quarter of a beer offered to me by them before hopping back on the bus to get home as fast as possible.

I was ecstatic about finished and quickly called my family to tell them about it. But I grew weary quickly and then I felt the beginnings of fever. This turned into a hellish night of chills and fever, throwing up, coughing, painfully sore throat. I was so sick that I called a friend for help, needing them to pick up medicine from the drugstore. But when none of the medicine took affect, I knew I needed some help. So I called a car and took it to the emergency room where my chest was x-rayed and I was given some heavy medicine to help me heal.

In a few days I was back to work and back to almost-normal.

I wanted to do another, and a coworker suggested a new ride coming this October. This one is a little different, in that I get to do some good along with challenging myself. I'm currently raising money for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society of New York, which goes to aiding people living with MS as well as fund research into a cure. If you want to check out the ride, or my donation page, you can find links here:

2008 Bike MS

My Fund Raising Page

If you have some time to stop by and check it out, I'd be much appreciative. Its a good cause and I'm very excited.

I am quickly becoming completely enamored by Jenny Lewis, solo albums, work in Rilo Kiley, and all things in between. This "Hee Haw" inspired video was a good way to start the morning, with a smile and a wink.

By now, a lot of you have probably heard Duffy's single "Mercy," as it makes its rounds on the top 40 radio stations as well as its feature as a dance number on TV's "So You Think You Can Dance." Duffy brings to the table '60s throwback soul, not unlike Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black." However there's a certain beautiful refinement to Duffy's work. She sings with fragile emotion, with little electric flourishes masterfully intertwined with wall of sound-esque inspiration, reminiscent of Lulu in her heyday. "Mercy" is infectiously catchy, however her other songs I've been able to sample from upcoming Rockferry are a little more mellow, somber, and full of heartbreak, loss, and hope for the thereafter.

In less than a week, I will be on my way out to wine country on North Fork, Long Island, for a 66 mile trek by bike. I join my coworkers on this excursion, a somewhat impulsive decision on my part. However, I very much wanted to be able to say I accomplished something great this year, and this will be it.
In preparation, I've been incorporating long rides into my staycation plans. First came a ride up the West Side Highway Greenway, landing me in Inwood. The 26 mile round trip was a bit much for my still green legs but it wasn't long before I grew restless and planned out another training trek, this time a 35.5 mile jaunt down to Coney Island and back. I was amazed to find that in the two years since I've ridden much of Brooklyn and Queens, there has been a remarkable boom in road striping for bike lanes. I think I may have ridden a total of 1 mile round trip off lane, in fact. Most of the road was well paved, and much of my trip involved straight shots south, the longest stretch being Ocean Parkway, a long highway-like bit of road finishing off the journey with a craggy Greenway. I recommend that if you have sensitive road tires you don't try to go full speed on this part, as I was awarded with a front flat once I reached my destination. Luckily I had had the foresight to pack the right tools and a spare in my bag before I took off.
Coney Island is by far one of my most favorite places in New York. The smiling stretch of beach adjacent to the boardwalk beckons visitors to its water, while Astroland drones with the sounds of laughing kids and the rowdy young-at-hearts.
It was unfortunate that I had made this journey alone, as I was unable to truly partake of the thrill rides and carnival games, my bike being a burden. I'm unwilling to lock it up anymore, for fear that my baby would be stolen if I did so. But I was content to stroll along the boardwalk, taking in the familiar and comforting sights of Coney.
I figured, while I was there, I needed to christen my summer with a helping of boardwalk food. As I perused the various booths for something appealing, among the fried clams and shrimp, the funnel cakes, the Italian ices, the soft serve ice cream, I came across Nathan's Famous hot dogs. I thought it only proper I commemorate such a trip with one of the most New York meals one can acquire: a well cooked hot dog. However, I'm still a bit wary of hot dogs on their own, so I decided to go with a safer bet that I knew I'd respond better to: a corn dog. And boy what a corn dog it was. Nathan's does something incredibly right with their boardwalk food. The hot dog is flavorful, meaty, everything a hot dog should be but so rarely isn't. It was coated in a generous but not too thick layer of corn bread, which, to my surprise, lacked the sickening sweetness I expected. Combined with a generous helping of mustard, it was exactly what I wanted in a corn dog, and more. It was delicious and satisfying, and I was better for the experience. Coupling that with a Nathan's lemonade, and I was all set for the ride back. After snapping a few more pictures, discovering my flat front tire, changing it out, and dusting myself off, I was ready to return home. The trek went smoothly, and I landed back home in the early evening, wishing I could've spent more time with Coney. But heck, its only a train (or bike) ride away.

A few weeks ago, as I walked along the most polluted and desolate part of Astoria Blvd., I noticed a tiny black kitten, huddled and not moving next to a step of an abandoned building. Fresh off of the loss of Spider, I immediately decided I needed to save the animal. It was extremely small and weak, initially darting in a panic back and forth between my hands as I scooped it up. I clutched her to my stomach and started toward my vet's office. She settled into my arms in a slump, sort of seeming to give up and accept what was happening to her. She sometimes licked my arms and hands and squirmed a bit, but for the most part, sat still.
The vet was closed, so I decided to take her home. I placed her in my bath tub, grabbed some towels, food, litter, and tried to clean her up. Brown poured off her as I washed her in the sink. One of her eyes was almost sealed shut due to a head cold. She barely moved, crawled into the small litter box I provided and didn't get up. It was then that I noticed the insects crawling along her skin, between the fur. Then I noticed several fleas had hopped into the tub. I panicked. I had no idea what to do. I picked the animal up in the litter box, and placed her back outside, just outside my building. I had no idea what to do. I felt horrible. But I didn't have much of a choice at 10 at night, other than risk infestation or let it go. So I did.
The next day, my neighbor knocked on my door, asking if I had any numbers for the Humane Society or other shelters. I asked if he'd found the kitten, and he had. Now, my neighbors happen to have a back porch with high walls, something my apartment lacks. So where I warned them about the kitten's buggy state, he assured me they'd taken care of it.
Later on in the week, the neighbor explained that no one would take the poor thing. However, he'd found something of a crazy cat lady, a woman who spent much of her time rescuing cats off the street, and had won several awards for it. The woman showed my neighbors how to de-flea the animal, and even provided a free blood transfusion. It turned out that all the brown I had washed from the kitten, was actually dried blood, and she had been suffering massive blood loss from all the flea bites.
Several weeks passed and I didn't hear anything about the kitten. I wasn't sure if the kitten was even alive. Most who had seen her, including the crazy cat lady, didn't expect her to live out the week.
But tonight, I found out what happened to her. After many rounds of cold medicine, de-worming medicine, and various inoculations, the little fighter pulled through and is a happy healthy babe. She's gained considerable weight, with a nice round belly, her eyes have opened up wide, her fur is nice as soft, and I'm told she's been playing tons with my neighbor's other two kittens.

Well now its time to find her a home. My neighbors love her, but they already have two and three is just one two many (though they expect their boys will miss her when she's gone). I'm not sure I'm ready for another kitten in my life at this point. So I'm passing the word on to everyone else. She's a sweet animal and a tough fighter. She's very quiet and not mean tempered at all. My neighbors are willing to let her go for the price of all the medical bills that they spent to resuscitate her. I don't know how much that is but I'd be happy to inquire.

They named her Asha, which means "full of life." Asha needs a home.