If I feel inspired to acquire a new skill, I will learn the basics, but I only go so far. I took guitar lessons for awhile. I could plunk out a tune if the chords were basic, but when it started getting difficult, when the dreaded F chord and Bm reared their heads, I more or less gave it up. Every once in awhile I pull out the guitar and play the simple songs I learned at the beginning, sometimes I look for some other tabs to try, but I don’t stretch myself. I don’t make the effort. It’s hard.

I taught myself to knit about ten years ago. Yet I still haven’t attempted anything really complex. I’ve never tried to knit a sweater. I can make scarves and blankets and hats and leg warmers, but I’ve never made the effort to create something that required taking measurements, making gauge swatches and working from a complex pattern. I just want to get on with it! But when I rush I just end up disappointed with mediocre results. And who wants that?

I also do yoga. (Though I haven’t done it much lately). Yet again, I do my basic poses, my familiar routine, but I don’t challenge myself to try difficult poses very often. When I’m in a phase of doing it regularly, I feel the improvements in my body, in my flexiblity and strength. But I don’t go beyond a certain level. Part of it is fearing I will hurt myself, but most of it is just fear of failure.

All of this is fear of failure. It’s not being able to have patience with myself while I make mistakes. It’s a lack of commitment to the time needed to advance a skill.

I’m not saying this to whine, it’s more just trying to define what the problem is, and why I can be sort of good at some things, but not REALLY good at anything in particular. I need to get over the idea that I need to be awesome at something right out of the gate or it’s not worth doing. It’s making skill-improvement a priority, and not saying, “I don’t have time” when I seem to find plenty of time to spend buried in nonsense on the internet.

What I really wish for, more than just about anything, is an obsession-level dedication to pursuing one thing. I want the desire to know how to play a musical instrument, or learn a particular art or craft to be so compelling that I have to do it every day. And I haven’t figured out what that thing is yet.

But I HATE HATE HATE the idea of having to watch what I eat and exercise. It’s an idea front-loaded with failure and disappointment and denial and lots of other unpleasantness. It’s been a lifelong struggle for me, and the idea of saying, “Okay I’m going to try this again,” just makes me FURIOUS. Fuck you, health, why do I have to do this? Why is it so hard for me and not for other people? Of course I naturally assume any formal attempt at weight loss will eventually lead to gaining back whatever I might lose, because it’s always been that way. Then I scold myself for being so negative, and calling it failure before I’ve even begun, and of course I will fail if I have such a poor attitude. Then I tell my Pollyanna inner voice to go fuck off. Anger is running the show in my head right now, obviously. Being angry lets me off the hook for doing anything right now. I can reject any hopeful statements or encouraging words because it’s all bullshit and it won’t work for me.

One thing I am adamant about: I refuse to go on anything called a “diet.” I’m not buying any books, or joining any programs or ordering special food or joining a health club or anything that costs me money. I’ve done it all, it doesn’t work in the long run and I’m not doing it again. The only way I will make any permanent changes is within my own head. Otherwise it will only be temporary, like it always has been.

Over the last year or so, I’ve done my best to embrace the idea of “body positivity.” I want to be happy with who I am and not base my worth on my clothing size or what I weigh or how I think I look. I try not to participate in conversations with other women that center around how fat we are or are not, or how awful something looks on someone, or any kind of body-bashing. (I also get pissed off by the whole “real women have curves” dogma. So skinny women aren’t real? Fuck that.) I’ve also done enough Photoshop work to know that even models don’t look as perfect in real life as they do on the page. We’ve all been sold a really damaging bill of goods by the fashion industry, and has it helped anyone? NO.

I think I’ve made some headway on the acceptance thing. My body is what it is. I can dress pretty well when I want to. I don’t actively HATE MYSELF every time I look in the mirror. If my weight was steady, I would probably be okay with it. But it’s slowly creeping up, and I know it’s going to continue creeping up if I don’t make some changes. I’m not at my highest weight ever. That’s still about 20 pounds away, but I’d prefer not to get there again.

So, yeah. Eat right. Exercise. This is where I am. I look at those words and I want to punch something, or someone. The food I eat is really not that bad, I just tend to eat too much of it. I love food. I love it too much.

As much as I love food, I hate exercising. The only exercise I really enjoy is yoga, and the kind of yoga I do is not the calorie-burning kind. I need cardio, and I am COMPLETELY FUCKING LAZY. Minimally, I need half an hour a day. I really should probably do more than that, but 30 minutes is the least I should do. And that’s nothing, right? I can find half an hour, right? Surely I can give up half an hour of whatever nothing I’m doing after work, right? Right.

God, I fucking HATE reading all my bullshit and knowing I’d just rather get my endorphins from inhaling a bag of Doritos instead of walking or yoga.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I guess the first thing I have to do is get over myself. When will I ever get over this? I drag this anvil around and complain about how heavy it is. Well guess what? Let go of it.

I may add more thoughts here as they coalesce in my head. I get very emotional and kind of incoherent when I write about this.

I SWEAR TO ANY AND ALL GODS, IF ANYONE POSTS A COMMENT WITH ANY DIET OR EXERCISE ADVICE, SO HELP ME I WILL SNAP.

Read:
American Tabloid by James Ellroy (I think this was the most hard-boiled book I’ve ever read.)
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson
The Haçienda: How Not To Run A Club by Peter Hook
Libra by Don DeLillo (I liked this Kennedy assassination novel much better than American Tabloid.)
Walking Man by Tim W. Brown (I finished it, but I could hardly give a crap about any of these characters. If it was any longer I probably wouldn’t have bothered.)
The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker
Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martell
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (re-read)
My Booky Wook: A Memoir of Sex, Drugs & Stand-Up by Russell Brand
The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson
South: The Endurance Expedition by Ernest Shackleton
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
Safe Area Gorazde: The War in Eastern Bosnia, 1992-95 by Joe Sacco
Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff
Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling
Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
American Eve: Evelyn Nesbit, Stanford White, The Birth of the “It” Girl and the Crime of the Century by Paula Uruburu (sheesh, so many books have a mile-long subtitle now, it’s getting out of hand.)
The Fucking Epic Twitter Quest of @MayorEmanuel by Dan Sinker
Brief Interviews With Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace
Oscar Wilde by Richard Hellman
Role Models by John Waters
Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield
Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain
Bossypants by Tina Fey
Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

It’s classic Duran Duran in so many ways — with the emphasis on glamour, decadence, and an abundance of scantily-clad women, it hearkens back to earlier videos like “Girls on Film” and “The Chauffeur.” There’s a subtle sense of humor in this one too, shown in the answers the models-as-Duran give to the interview questions. Cindy Crawford as John Taylor makes a wisecrack about “never really knowing who’s going to show up” as a nod to their frequently-changing guitarists. Helena Christensen as Roger Taylor says, “I don’t hang out with the rest of the guys, they’re a bad influence,” while in other scenes she’s seen guzzling champagne from the bottle and taking polaroids of the passed-out girls in her hotel room. Eva Herzigova was the standout, providing very opaque non-answers to questions posed by the actual Nick Rhodes. Yasmin Le Bon (wife of Simon), plays the unnamed “Guitarist,” which some people seemed to feel was kind of a slam to their current guitarist Dom Brown, who’s been with them for about five years now, but I thought it was all in good fun, and Dom himself always maintains (as did Yasmin in character), “I’m not a member of Duran Duran.” Naomi Campbell plays Simon Le Bon, and does so with some real poignance, I think. I wonder how much each band member scripted the responses for the women, because they did seem to really reflect the personalities that we know as Duran Duran.

I have to say, it’s a relief to see age-appropriate models in the featured roles. Even though there are piles (literally in some scenes) of young models all throughout this video, the band members aren’t really interacting with them, so it avoids the ick factor I felt about their video for “Falling Down.” In that video from 2007, the band members play doctors in white coats supervising a rehab center/mental institution populated with very young ladies in various stages of undress. I’m sure this attraction to the young ladies is mostly the Nick Rhodes influence at work — see also his photographs for the album cover of Red Carpet Massacre. The “Girl Panic” video could’ve easily gone in the same creepy direction, but manages to avoid it by keeping the middle-aged band members in cameo roles. Though I think it could have been just as good without the dozens of girls dressed in black lace, patent leather bodysuits and garter belts. Even the camera crew for this fake documentary is played by girls who look like they’d be more at home in a bondage club.

And I know, that’s the point. It’s excess to the nth degree, a callback to their 80s past, when they made luxurious big-budget videos in a time of economic austerity, thumbing their noses at the dourness of modern culture. But I watch this video and I wonder, “Who did they make this for?” They are fully aware that the large majority of their fan base is women. Yes, they have male fans, but let’s be honest, it’s the women who pay their bills. I’m one of those women. And you know what I’d love to see in a Duran Duran video? Duran Duran. I have no objection to looking at pretty women in pretty clothes, but when it’s a Duran Duran video, guess who I’d prefer to watch? They still look fantastic and can dress well when they put their minds to it, so why do they persist in overpopulating their videos with babes? Is it just because having pretty girls around is more fun for them when they have to spend a couple days shooting a video? Their last video, for “All You Need is Now,” was, in my mind, pretty close to perfect. Just the band, playing in a room lined with aluminum foil, and various shots of them walking the streets of London. Simple, lovely to watch, no naked women required. Was that just too boring for them? Oh well.

I realize I’m thinking too hard about this. It’s pop music, it’s the thing you’re supposed to use to escape from all the miserable stuff in the world. Am I criticizing a bon bon because it’s not a salad? Probably. And clearly a lot of people are loving this video, because since it was posted on November 8, it has (as of this writing) over 3.4 million views on YouTube. A lot of people are watching it, and it’s gotten a lot of press. So they obviously did something right. In contrast, the video for “All You Need Is Now” has just over 1.2 million views, and it’s been on YouTube for almost a year.

Please don’t get me wrong, I don’t come anywhere close to hating this video. I think it’s a really fun idea, and if it had just been executed in a slightly different way I would be ready to put it near the top of my list. The song itself is definitely one of my favorites from this album. But when you buy into the Duran Duran universe (as I obviously have), you know this kind of awkward excess is part of the deal, and you keep loving them anyway.

*****

All videos referenced above are linked here:

"Girl Panic" by Duran Duran

"Falling Down" by Duran Duran

"All You Need Is Now" by Duran Duran

"Girls on Film" by Duran Duran

"The Chauffeur" by Duran Duran

Then I got Crohn’s Disease. Actually, I probably had it for a long time, but then it became something that could no longer be ignored. The idea of “autoimmune” diseases is fascinating to me — when the body turns on itself. Knowing my lifelong attitude towards my body, it doesn’t really surprise me that this is the road I’ve gone down. Not that I believe my brain and my attitude are solely responsible for my condition, I’m sure there are other physical things at work here, and/or environmental factors. I don’t buy the power of positive thinking as the only way to true healing. That’s bullshit. But I’m sure it would help if I had some.

The Crohn’s has been under control for almost two years, and I’ve been feeling really good as far as that goes.

But now my joints are hurting. I’m 44 years old, so I’ve had the random ache and pain that comes from being middle-aged, but this is different. Elbows, shoulders, knees, finger joints all hurting at the same time in various combinations. Some joints have been swollen, and I have tingly feelings in one of my pinky fingers. A visit to the doctor was kind of inconclusive (of course). Blood tests were indicative of Rheumatoid Arthritis — but I’m not experiencing all the symptoms that usually come with it. Sometimes this kind of joint pain can be related to Crohn’s, but is that what this is? I don’t know. As part of my Crohn’s regimen I take a Humira injection every other week, which is also often prescribed for Rheumatoid Arthritis. Clearly it’s not helping me in that respect.

I took a week-long round of steroids and the pain lessened. But now I’m off the steroids and it’s back again. I have an appointment with my gastroenterologist in a couple weeks, and I’m in the process of getting a referral to a rheumatologist.

In the meantime, I feel like someone dragged me around by my arms. It’s kind of like that feeling when you have the flu, like you got hit by a bus —- everything hurts and all you want to do is sleep. Getting dressed hurts. If I push a button the wrong way, or grab something too tightly my fingers protest strongly. If I’ve been sitting for awhile, when I get up I creak around like an old lady for a few minutes until I walk out the stiffness in my knees. Because of the Crohn’s, my GI doctor doesn’t want me to take Advil or Aleve. So my OTC painkiller of choice is Tylenol for Arthritis Pain, which is about as powerful as not taking anything. At least I can still type.

Without really knowing what this is, I’m trying to avoid my worst-case-scenario speculations, and being reasonably successful I think. But if this is another case of my body attacking itself, what do I do with that? What is happening inside me that my own body wants to cripple itself, if not one way, then another?

(This post is not a solicitation for medical advice. I’ll delete any comments that offer it.)

Read:
American Tabloid by James Ellroy (I think this was the most hard-boiled book I’ve ever read.)
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson
The Haçienda: How Not To Run A Club by Peter Hook
Libra by Don DeLillo (I liked this Kennedy assassination novel much better than American Tabloid.)
Walking Man by Tim W. Brown (I finished it, but I could hardly give a crap about any of these characters. If it was any longer I probably wouldn’t have bothered.)
The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker
Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martell
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (re-read)
My Booky Wook: A Memoir of Sex, Drugs & Stand-Up by Russell Brand
The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson
South: The Endurance Expedition by Ernest Shackleton
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
Safe Area Gorazde: The War in Eastern Bosnia, 1992-95 by Joe Sacco
Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff
Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling
Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
American Eve: Evelyn Nesbit, Stanford White, The Birth of the “It” Girl and the Crime of the Century by Paula Uruburu (sheesh, so many books have a mile-long subtitle now, it’s getting out of hand.)
The Fucking Epic Twitter Quest of @MayorEmanuel by Dan Sinker
Brief Interviews With Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace
Oscar Wilde by Richard Hellman
Role Models by John Waters
Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield
Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain

Person 1: Oh my God, that was crazy! I was scared!
Person 2: Big deal, that happens here all the time! You’re such a wimp!

Wherever you live, if you’ve lived there for more than a few years, you’re better equipped to handle certain weather situations more than others: northerners laugh when the south shuts down after they get an inch of snow. Southerners laugh when we in the north complain about it being 100 degrees once in awhile. People on the east coast mock the west coast for shivering in 50-degree weather. And the west coasters shrugged when everyone on the east coast flipped out about the recent earthquake. Some hurricane veterans scoffed at the eastern seaboard’s fear of the approaching Irene. “Oh, it’s only a category 1, that’s like a bad rainstorm.” Well, maybe not. Ask Vermont.

Is this a tribal thing — the need to believe that your group of people is superior because you’ve survived a certain kind of hardship more often than others? That you’re stronger because an earthquake/hurricane/flood/tornado doesn’t scare you? I guess it’s human nature to need to feel superior, but don’t get too cocky about it, because Mother Nature’s probably got something up her sleeve that will make YOU pee your pants one day.

Read:
American Tabloid by James Ellroy (I think this was the most hard-boiled book I’ve ever read.)
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson
The Haçienda: How Not To Run A Club by Peter Hook
Libra by Don DeLillo (I liked this Kennedy assassination novel much better than American Tabloid.)
Walking Man by Tim W. Brown (I finished it, but I could hardly give a crap about any of these characters. If it was any longer I probably wouldn’t have bothered.)
The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker
Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martell
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (re-read)
My Booky Wook: A Memoir of Sex, Drugs & Stand-Up by Russell Brand
The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson
South: The Endurance Expedition by Ernest Shackleton
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
Safe Area Gorazde: The War in Eastern Bosnia, 1992-95 by Joe Sacco
Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff
Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling
Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman

From the Chicago Tribune (bold emphasis mine):

Ducks rescued on Lake Shore Drive
June 29, 2011|Staff report

A daring rescue operation on Lake Shore Drive saved the lives of a mother duck and her five ducklings Tuesday night.

All it took was the coordinated efforts of some Good Samaritans, police and firefighters and Chicago Streets and Sanitation.

It all started about 7:30 p.m. when Jamie Holbrook was leaving work and was going to her car on the fifth floor of a Streeterville parking garage when she spotted the duck family there.

“It took three hours, (but) I led her out of the garage,” with her ducklings following in tow, Holbrook said. She left them to a small park area near East Pearson Street, where she thought they would be safe.

She returned to the garage, got her car but when she got onto Lake Shore Drive she saw the ducks trying to cross the roadway with Good Samaritan Joseph Daley stopping traffic and guiding cars around the ducks.

Holbrook stopped and scooped up some of the ducklings in a large plastic container.

But two of the ducklings couldn’t be caught before they fell through the grate of a storm drain.

“One got out,” Daley said, but the other had fallen too far into the basin.

As police were protecting the rescuers from traffic, firefighters attempted to pry the grate off with metal stakes. When that effort proved unsuccessful, a Streets and San truck attached a chain to the grate and pulled it off.

Another Good Samaritan reached down and scooped out the trapped duckling in his hat.

Through it all, the mother duck was waiting patiently by, said Holbrook, who was trying to contact a bird rescue organization to take care of the family.

Read:
American Tabloid by James Ellroy (I think this was the most hard-boiled book I’ve ever read.)
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson
The Haçienda: How Not To Run A Club by Peter Hook
Libra by Don DeLillo (I liked this Kennedy assassination novel much better than American Tabloid.)
Walking Man by Tim W. Brown (I finished it, but I could hardly give a crap about any of these characters. If it was any longer I probably wouldn’t have bothered.)
The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker
Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martell
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (re-read)
My Booky Wook: A Memoir of Sex, Drugs & Stand-Up by Russell Brand
The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson
South: The Endurance Expedition by Ernest Shackleton
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
Safe Area Gorazde: The War in Eastern Bosnia, 1992-95 by Joe Sacco