Be a friend.

As a rule, I do not participate in public grief over celebrities. The way I see it, I did not know the person. I will say a silent prayer for anyone who is called Home, but that’s just me– death and grief are very private for me. It always has been. I’m not good at funerals. I’m not good in hospitals. I could go one and on…but today’s passing of Robin Williams reminds of this moment in our history captured on video. I always remember it because Billy Crystal is genuinely happy for his friend. You can see it when Crystal fights his tears; you can feel it when Crystal rushes Robin Williams after his speech; you can see Williams, overwhelmed with love and excitement and the pure joy of sharing that moment with his friend. I like to think I take my friendships pretty seriously. Today reminded me of my friends who have survived rough patches in life, hard financial times, cancer, consequences of poor choices and a lot of other things. I have survived things, too, but things nearly as tough as others. Today reminded me to a better job of reaching out to those people who laugh and live in denial. I respect someone’s NO, but I think today reminds me to try a little harder with people, even when I do not have the energy or the ganas to do it.  I am so lucky to be surrounded by so much love every single day. I am going to share the love I have with someone who needs it – even of he or she says they don’t. AND I KNOW: depression takes many people, not just celebrities. This is my opinion, and I think a moment in time where people everywhere seem to be on the same page: Help other people. Why? Because you can.

Write.

I am going to write a book.

I’m not sure what I’ll write yet, but if I don’t write a book, someone else will.  Someone who does not write as well as I do, someone who cranks out a formula, someone who is not I.  And that would annoy me more than I am annoyed right now.

I read a short article recently that said the best thing an actor right out of grad school can do for a career is produce original work. I get it. I had a professor once tell me that I would never know if I was a good writer until I started writing for the public.  That’s why I started writing, really. I just felt writing was easy – but I had no benchmark to determine whether it was any good or not.

The thing about writing and me is that writing comes very naturally for me. I do not dare call it easy because it is not. But I definitely have a knack for it. I write fast. I write well. I write correctly. And I always get a little anxiety in my chest when I break the rules, like I did a few sentences earlier by starting the sentence with the word but.

I am very aware of writing and the magical rules – all of them. Grammar, Linguistics, Verse, Meter – they all flow through my veins, like my plasma is made of letters, subjects and verbs.

Believe me, I wish I did anything else as easily. I wish I could box like a champ. I wish I could act like movie star. I wish I could build like a carpenter. But I can not.

I can write. It’s what I do. It’s what makes my way in this world.

Yet…I attempt everything else in the world. I search for happiness everywhere else except the one place I always seem to find it: at my keyboard.

There a few demands about writing that cramp my style, really. For one, you have to turn off the television and read. I love reading, but I love watching television more. I especially love reality television. I live for drama. Another thing, you have to be quiet. I believe this to be true about writers. I talk too much. I talk entirely too much. I say everything I should be writing. I feel it. I know it.  And it makes me sad sometimes because I really, really like talking and being social.

Writers have to be anti-social; it’s the hallmark of production: solitude. A writer has to write, and writing takes time.  A writer has to be alone to write, to think, to try things, to speak a character’s voice out loud, to erase, to curse, to cuss, to celebrate, to cry, to write. I do not like to be alone at all.

Still, the point of this post is writing. I have no more excuses inside of me. I’m not really happy, not at peace. I seem to have lost some creativity along the way these past few years. My priorities are a bit mixed up. I feel wrong in some ways – some things just need righting. And that comes from writing.

So here it goes. I’m not sure what the book will be, or if I am ready for rejection letters, or of I am prepared for success. I have nothing to lose except myself. And since I feel lost right now, I know that I always seem to find myself when I start to do what I do best: write.

Water.

When I quit caffeine three weeks ago, I knew drinking anything interesting would be a challenge. My long days had been filled with tasty Diet Dr. Peppers and Texas iced teas.  What would I drink?  Water?  That’s boring.

And it is.

I started drinking water and only water on that day.  I could have made the choice to drink demi-water, like lame Crystal Light and such, but I decided to go cold turkey.  It was not hard, but it was boring.  Water has no flavor.  Water contains no fun bubbles.  And the only water I like is Fiji water, which costs about $10 a liter – seriously silica?

But then something very interesting started to happen.  The bloat completely disappeared.  The bloat in my midsection, that always seemed to make my dress shirts shorter then that they should have been, evaporated.  Then another thing happened: I grew a neck.  All of a sudden my neck was independent of my jaw line. That’s something new for me.

Then more strange things started to happen.  For instance, my bladder expanded to the size of one that belongs in a horse.  I can sing the alphabet now when I am at the urinal, as well as Britney’s “Womanizer” and Cher’s “Believe.”  It’s pretty crazy.  I also started CRAVING water.  I drink it all the time.  All day long.  And nothing else.  Then my sista friend Philip turned me on to the Brita water bottle and it was ON! I fill this up about ten times during my day.  The water tastes clean – much better then than what gushes from the fountain.

I complained that the lack of caffeine did not do anything to improve my body, my urinary system or my overall general mood.  I am still cranky.  I believe I always will be.  But what DID enhance, improve and boost all of the above is the WATER!  I love it.  And now I feel like my body is flushing toxins like crazy.  I lost seven pounds right away – like in ten days.  Really.  And it has stayed off.  I have allowed myself caffeine if I really need it, for an early morning meeting or a speaking engagement, but so far I’ve been good without it.

I prefer cool water to room temperature water.  I have become a water bottle recycling snob = I like to drink from reusable containers.  I do not like to stir in flavor packets.  Water is not the easiest thing to order a restaurant – servers usually roll their eyes.  It happens.  Believe it.

Still, I am happily surprised how the water makes me feel. I am happy and energized, not sluggish and tired.

The best thing about water? It’s LOVELY with bourbon.

I'll try anything. I'll try a triathlon!

Last Friday night I decided I would begin training for my first triathlon. I’m really excited. I feel like I should be really nervous, but I’m really not.  Earlier at the gym, I told someone I was nervous – in fact, I said it twice. But about 20 minutes later, I realized that nerves turn into adrenaline and energy. I’m actually extremely happy about my decision.

First, some background - I always wanted to compete in a triathlon. Here’s why: When I was in my late teens, working at the YMCA behind the front desk with a gaggle of geese and geeks who made up my social circle, I met several members who trained for triathlons. Members trained for marathons and other competitive events all the time. They would be in line for the pool at the crack of dawn and usually finishing one last rep in the weight room as we were turning off the lights. They were dedicated. They looked absolutely gross. They sweat, and they smelled foul. But they won. They beat personal bests day after day, running farther, running faster, swimming longer. It was awesome to hear stories of their races in other states.  I was genuinely happy for them and for their successes.

But they are not my inspiration. My inspiration is one guy we’ll call Dude. I don’t remember his name – I can’t even say I ever knew his name – but Dude was actually really cool. He spoke to the front desk staff like we were his friends. He spent just as much time at the gym as we did, but he did it for free. I mean I love the YMCA, but I don’t want to hang out there.

Dude announced to all of us that he was training for a triathlon. We all encouraged him. Okay, not really. He was just another member trying to make conversation about his fitness goals, you know those people who put it out into the universe for some sense of accountability. (Yes, I see feel the irony draping around me like a Snuggie.)

Anyway, one day after his workout, he walked up to the front desk at the same time that Domino’s pizza showed up at the front door. Apparently, he was STARVING. He set the pizza down on the counter and attacked it.  Naïve as I was, I thought: He will most certainly share with me. No, he did not. In face, he ate the whole pizza in a matter of minutes. I watched him in awe. I could not believe my new hero was standing right in front of me.

I think the conversation went something like this…

Me: “Dude, that was AWESOME. You killed that pizza.”

Dude: “Dude, I can eat anything I want now. I’m burning so many calories working out, I’m actually LOSING weight.”

Me: “Dude, no way?! Are you serious?!”

Dude: “Dude, yes. The other day I ate a whole box of cereal after a workout. Didn’t gain a pound.”

Wow. Yes. Now. Sign. Me. Up!

And that’s why I want to do a triathlon. Seriously. Fat, selfish reasoning in three separate sports tied up into one fun race.

Believe it or not, I enjoy working out and exercising – quite a bit. If you remember my last post, you’ll recall that I don’t enjoy being rushed and feeling tired, both side effects of spending time beating your body, but the physical activity I enjoy.  I am looking forward to the training and to setting some goals and reaching those goals.

I have nine weeks to prepare. I am little fearful of the bike, but some experienced cyclists have agreed to help me.  My doctor – the best in town – has agreed to help me in the weeks leading up to the race.  I have actually been cheating on my self-imposed January OFF month by running a few miles here and there. (I am doing a run this Saturday, so I figured I would warm up the legs.)

I’m not sure if I’ll post more about this race, or the training. I don’t want to be redundant. But if I get through the next two months successfully, you can find me at B&J’s Pizza on the afternoon of March 30^th.

Just don’t ask me to share my pie.

I quit caffeine.

Today makes seven complete days without caffeine. I know – I think I am insane, too. But I have my reason. Yes, only one.

I decided to quit caffeine because I want my skin to look hydrated. Now, I am sure you are either rolling your eyes or thinking I am ultra gay, but I’m completely serious.  I stopped drinking caffeine and replaced almost every beverage this week with WATER.  I splurged on two 7-Ups and one root beer. I also tried a Passion Tea from Starbucks, which tasted like decaffeinated, pink sugar water. Other than that, I only drank good old H2O.

I love my skin, but I’m almost 40. I’m farther away from it than some of my friends (HA!), but I’ll be there in less than three seasons of “Dancing with the Stars,” so all of my anti-aging efforts have recently kicked into overdrive.  I purchased some extremely expensive eye cream – which I LOVE – and I have started a face cleansing-moisturizing-protecting regimen, which I now follow daily. I used to wash my face and that seemed to be enough. Now, I’m not so sure.

So where does nixing the caffeine factor here? Well, here’s my logic: When I was in my late teens I worked as bank teller. It was a great job. It remains the easiest thing I have ever done, and the hours proved few and very fun. I worked with a girl named “Kelly” who drank about three full gallons of water a day. She would fill up her gallon mug from the Texas Star convenience store three times during the day with water.  She would say that water was the only thing she would drink. She would brag that the doctor would tell her that her skin “was the healthiest and most hydrated skin he had ever seen.”

And it was. Her skin looked like milk. Her skin was so flawless; her pores were so invisible – her skin actually looked plump. I would get really close to her face and I would examine it all the time. No blemishes. No Rosacea. No wrinkles.

At first, I did not believe that she only drank water – but every teller on the line confirmed it: She was really a camel.

I always remember Kelly because I enjoyed being her co-worker very much. I remembered her skin last week and just like that, I became a Water Baby Omar.

The first two days were easy. Advice and tips flooded my Facebook Inbox when I announced my strategy online.  Days three and four pounded my head with ferociously painful withdrawal headaches.  Days five, six and seven I hardly remember because I usually fell asleep by, oh, six o’clock in the evening.

I gave myself one week to make it. I told myself that if I could make it one solid week, I would keep at it. I only wanted to cave once. Last night I put on a tuxedo and hopped over the Junior League’s Fairy Tale Ball. I drank alcohol.  A lot of it.  And I almost allowed myself to caffeinate for the evening. I admit – I have been sluggish all week, and my co-workers have told me that I have also been grouchy, blunt and near mean.

But I did not give up! I drank alcohol with water. No caffeine. Not even this morning during the nursing phase of the hangover! I felt so good when I realized that I had reached Day Seven, I thought, “I bet I could quit sugar, too!”

Then I came to delayed, decaffeinated senses.

January is spelled OFF.

I decided to take January OFF in terms of any kind of exercise and I have learned the following things:

1. I was always in pain.
2. I was always miserably tired and jacked up on caffeine.
3. I miss my working out friends.
4. Since I've stopped, I've lost about 7 lbs. 5. I'm ready for February to come back because the lack of discipline in my life is rather annoying.

 About two years ago, I started running pretty seriously. I fell in love with it. I became obsessed with it. I ran any free minute of the day: morning, lunch, evening, late at night. (Late at night, I always ran across the street from the cemetery...not on the sidewalk that bordered it.) I felt great. I looked great. But I also realized the change I felt existed completely INSIDE of me. I looked great, but I really looked exactly the same. I felt great, but I only lost about ten pounds over the course of a year – if that. 

The funny thing about running is that just one day of it improves me completely. After a long break, it’s tough to get back. It is. But then the first time I really hit the street for a few miles, my body instantly responds. I become more flexible. I sleep better. I am happier. My pants fit (better). Today I was tempted to run. I was home early enough. I cooked dinner early enough. I had all the fixings of a great workout, but I made myself stay home. I forced the time off because as much as I miss the physical benefits and the “good” that routine does for my soul, I know that running also takes over my life.

 I know that I will always be on the run, so to speak. I will be packing socks and shoes and shorts and shirts into my work satchel – the one that’s meant for work.

I will be a slave to a strict eating schedule to make sure I can run the minute I am free. I will add headphones and music to my OCD list of things I check before I leave the house: keys, phone #1, phone #2, dog in, doors locked – it goes on and on… I will always be cracking some joint on my body, anywhere and everywhere the mood strikes me. I release my hip in the hallways. I crack my neck in line at Jason’s Deli. I pop my back in the Barbie section of Wal-Mart. (Don’t ask.)

 I know it will be my life again soon, and I am very grateful for it. I thank God everyday that my body still works. I am big guy. Big. And my knees are fine. My feet are fine. My vision and hearing are fine. I’m not sure if I’ll make it to February. I bought the adult equivalent of Zips the other day. I’m itching to use them.

 Until the running muse returns, I’ll keep loafing around, reading, heading to bed early and eating in the middle of the night. There’s something to be said about waking up at 7 a.m., hours after my typical run would have started. I guess the thing to be said is this: As much as I love running, this break ain’t bad at all.

Saying 'I Love You' is easy.

Everyday I realize more and more that saying 'I Love You' is one of the easiest things in the world. If you are lucky enough to have an amazing nephew in your life, the words 'I Love You' flow freely from your lips every second you are with the child. If you are blessed enough to have someone with whom to walk this life's journey, then it comes out of you and heals like a safe embrace. If you have a child, I'm sure it's the first and last thing you say everyday. I hope I can experience that one day.
I find it strange that some people make a big deal about saying 'I Love You.' When you're dating, it's always such a benchmark identifier and qualifier for the relationship. Who says it first? Don't say it back. How do you know when it's okay to say it?
With family, somehow it becomes too affectionate to say "I Love You' as one matures. As children we are showered with words of encouragement and affirmation, then as young adults we are supposed to grow and excel without words of kindness or support. It doesn't make sense to me.
I say "I Love You' to a lot of people,a lot of the time. I genuinely mean it. For me Love means respect, admiration and appreciation. It also means character, integrity and ingenuity. It means creativity, talent and generosity. It means that you do something so altruistic and humble that it stops me in my tracks and I am grateful for your existence.
Don't get me wrong - if I Like you, I'll say I really Like you - a lot. But if I say I Like You, it's usually because I have not had the pleasure of really knowing you yet. I believe in people. I believe in Christianity. I believe in a spiritual and human connectedness. I believe that everyone counts.
And although sometimes it's challenging, (sometimes VERY difficult!), I can honestly say I love everyday. I love someone everyday. And I tell them.
People need to know you love them. People need to hear you say that you love them when you do. Say it. I encourage it. I am a fan of it. I practice it.
I lost a dear friend today. And I am so grateful to God that I always said, "I Love You, Susan," every time we parted. And she said it back. And I know she really meant it. And I know she knew that I meant it, too.
Love people in your life. Mean it. Enjoy it. Share it. And say it. It's the easiest thing to do.